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Posts Tagged ‘acceptance’

What to do with an empty nest

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on August 8, 2013| 5 Comments »

Downed trees

Trees and power lines downed by storm

During the last two weeks, a lot of things have exited my life. Dysfunction and old age took the office photocopier, a storm took several huge trees, maturity took our son to a new life in California, said son took his dog with him, and, at my request, my husband took two La-Z-Boy recliners to Habitat for Humanity.

Emptiness has been appearing around my life. Book cases have been cleared; drawers, too! All of that cabinet space reserved for dog food, shampoo, leashes, and treats … empty! Need I mention Britain’s room and his entire closet?

Most of the change has been thrust upon me, and I’ve been grieving the losses quite deeply. Solitude, tears, and a little wine. Long walks, extended periods of silence, and journaling at the cottage about my fears.

I tried to put a positive spin on things as I wrote about all this space opening up. Cheerily I scribbled the words, “It’s creating space for new things to come in!” And then a radical new thought. As if in someone else’s hand, my pen wrote: NO!

No?

NO!

Here’s what that wise hand wrote: “Don’t fill up that space! Don’t buy a new copier, or start looking for a puppy, or plant an orchard of fruit trees! Just don’t do it! Instead, feel the loss. Feel the empty. Be with it. Move into it. Become comfortable with it. Then … learn to LOVE it!”

Common wisdom says, “Replace what’s been lost so you don’t feel the pain. Fill the space with things that make you smile.”

But if I change myself inside … if I shift the way I look at my circumstances …  if I choose to truly accept what is and take the bold step to LOVE it as though I chose it for myself … well, then, it’s not about empty space that needs to be filled.

It’s about empty space where I can begin to spread my own wings!

Bird takes flight

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A Time to Heal

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , on April 18, 2013| 15 Comments »

I was feeling a little confused at the cottage this morning. I’ve been so unmotivated, so tired, so content to just sit and stare. That’s just not me. And, yet, it has been me for a while now. Where is my energy? Where is my inspiration? After all, it’s Dannie who’s going through radiation therapy. It’s normal for him to feel tired and listless right now, not me. So what gives?

I was directing my questions to The Universe and fully anticipating some enlightening answer when I heard a THUMP. Something had hit the glass of the French door. I looked out to see a wren lying dazed on the front deck. I swooped up the tiny creature just before my cat pounced on it. I shooed the cat away and took the bird inside.

House Wren

Such a little creature and perfect in every way.

I sat in my rocking chair, cuddling the delicate thing in my hands. I looked at its beauty, watched it breathe, and wondered what would become of it. I decided that for the moment, it didn’t matter. I would simply hold it, rock in the chair, and appreciate the rare gift of holding a tiny bird in my hands.

After a while, it squirmed a little and then hopped onto my shoulder. From there, it hopped to my knee and then flew toward the window. I gently picked it up, opened the door, and threw it high into the air. I watched until it flew out of sight.

Back in the cottage, I thanked the Universe for such an amazing experience. And then I heard the message, “You are like that little bird, a bit dazed but basically okay. I will hold you safe in my hands until you are ready to fly again. Just rest here for a while and let me enjoy the miracle that is you.”

Okay … who could argue with that?

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I am not THAT!

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , on March 15, 2013| 12 Comments »

A couple of weeks ago I received an email requesting artwork for a silent auction fundraiser for a local non-profit agency. The subject line began “Call to Artists ….”

My first reaction: “I am NOT an artist!” I deleted the email.

Within a few minutes, I searched my trash and undeleted the email so I could send it to some local artist friends. Afterward, I deleted it.

The next day, I was back rummaging through my trash. Clearly I was disturbed by this email! I began thinking, “Maybe … just MAYBE … I’ll contribute something.”

And then: “Oh, no! I can’t.” I decidedly punched DELETE.

At my art lesson, I told my teacher about the email, emphatic about my decision not to participate.

“Why not?” she asked. “You could do something. You’re ready.”

“Oh, no!” I blurted. “I’m not an artist! I can’t paint on command. I’m just playing around. I’m just learning. I haven’t a clue what I’m doing!”

I was so adamant, so sure. My heels were dug in, and I wasn’t moving!

My art teacher (who is also a talented art therapist) gently encouraged me to look a little deeper at what was going on. Before my lesson-turned-session was over, I began recognizing the extent of my resistance.

For the next 24 hours I was deep in process, but I couldn’t quite figure out the emotions of it all.

Then I watched Session 1 of an online webinar: “The Power of Vulnerability,” by Brené Brown.

As Brené talked about people trying their hardest to fit in, to be accepted, to be liked, I began to understand. She said that when we try our hardest and then fail to be accepted, the result is shame. We think, “I did everything I knew how to do! There must be something wrong with me!”

I realized there was some part of me that needed to try her hardest to create a painting that people would like. Deep inside I knew that if no one bought it, I would probably never allow myself to paint again. I had tapped into something that shamed me when I was six years old (and I didn’t paint again for 50 years!)

When I saw it, I was free to make an enlightened, self-honoring choice.

Over the next several days, I created a painting that I liked. I matted it. I framed it. I’m going to donate it. If no one bids on it, it doesn’t matter because the painting is authentically ME. I created it to please ME. I had fun doing it, and I like it. That’s all that matters.

And the idea of calling myself an artist is actually growing on me. I think I’m ready to try on “Beginner Artist.” After all, I obviously have the “temperamental” part down pat!

My painting will be on display April 18, 2013 during Charleston’s ArtWalk from 5-8 PM at Romano & Associates, 230 Capitol Street, Suite 200, Charleston, WV.

My painting will be on display April 18, 2013 during Charleston’s ArtWalk from 5-8 PM at Romano & Associates, 230 Capitol Street, Suite 200, Charleston, WV.

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When Life Gets Stormy

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , on March 7, 2013| 9 Comments »

Acrylic painting

I painted this picture to remind myself of the beauty that lies just beyond the darkness

Lately I’ve been feeling off, down, exhausted, sad. Usually, I’m not much of a crier, but this morning at the cottage, I wept. It’s a safe, nurturing place. No one asks me what’s wrong. No one tells me how to feel better. It’s quiet. It’s warm. There’s coffee. And sometimes I cry.

If a coaching client came to me feeling like this, what would I say? I would say, “Tell me about the sadness, tell me about the tears.”

There’s so much going on right now! Dannie’s cancer, Debbie’s death, Britain’s escalating interviews with the Army recruiters (for Special Forces, no less!) My sister-cousin is struggling with SAD. My close friends are talking about moving to Florida. My laptop won’t connect to the network, and my car is leaking antifreeze.

But the work of life goes on. Payrolls need to be processed, bills must to be paid, groceries bought, food prepared, dishes washed, rugs vacuumed. I have a full life that right now feels full of “have-to’s” instead of “want-to’s.” I paste a lame smile on my face, and when people say, “How are you doing?” I say, “Okay,” which is a bit of a stretch, but accurate enough not to be a lie. “Fine” would be a lie. “Okay” makes the cut.

The exhaustion comes from holding back the tears, I think. And from holding back the scary thoughts, from keeping my mouth shut when I want to scream, from summoning that damn smile.

At the cottage, I stop holding things back, and the tears erupt in a cloudburst, accompanied by thunder and lightning. It feels like it will rain forever. Buckets of rain. Waterfalls off the hillsides. Puddles in the streets.

But then it lets up and it feels good. It feels “sleep-after-insomnia” good … “shower-after-grubby” good … “spring-after-long-winter” good.

Gradually my ordinary life, challenges and all, feels satisfying once again, and the warming rays of gratitude begin to brighten the corners of my life.

Sometimes it just takes a good downpour to lighten the weight of the clouds, clear the air, and prepare the ground for new growth.

Oh, and that smile on my face … it’s the real thing now.

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