The train of thought below was written on Monday, August 5th, to a dear friend who has been patiently awaiting my readiness to enjoy time, together since I arrived on the coast—
Ever since Thursday, July 25th when Will and I drove from the desert to the coast with Ravi in tow (where we three celebrated Ray’s eighth birthday with extended family), time spent alone is what I’ve craved most. Why? I’d stretched much too far mentally, emotionally and physically during the three weeks that Steven had need of me to take care of our four year old grand daughter in the aftermath of his house flood, and ever since he and Celina (both of whom joined us on the coast several days later) drove back to the desert on Sunday, August 3rd, with Ravi in tow, I’ve listened seriously to my mind, body and spirit’s deeply personal need for peace and quiet. As to why Ravi came with us, everyone in the family, including me, wanted her to be on the coast in time to enjoy her cousin Ray’s eighth birthday party (celebrated on Saturday), and Steven couldn’t leave the desert till Sunday. So I, loving how close knit my family proves to be, repeatedly, chose to stretch my exhaustion—again.
During this past week, while my three sons enjoyed each other and their families at the time share resort where our whole family eagerly convenes, every summer, I made good use of the self assertive portion of my voice, and as everyone observed and respected my exhaustion, I chose to spend most of my time alone. Craving time alone when my family is together is very new to me. But respecting that inner need is necessary. Though everyone is always undergoing some stage of personal transition (for better or worse) I, feeling myself moving through an active state of mental change, have not yet identified which self debasing character trait I may be in the process of shedding.
Though this unidentified change taking place inside my head feels somehow distressing, growth spurts experienced in the past encourage me to take a leap of faith toward believing that as challenging as this period of transition proves to be, my fully recharged mental strengths will land on both feet in a place that feels as intuitively natural as would a well practiced Olympiad gymnast, having challenged her/himself to achieve a quadruple spiral through the air.
While undergoing this mentally challenging change, I am early to bed, late to arise. I feel resistant to talking and am writing much less than usual. In fact—I’m cocooning.
Makes me wonder if shedding old wings before sprouting a wider wing span at each stage of life is as painful for adults as it is for a baby cutting molars, which will wiggle around, bleed, and fall out before wisdom teeth come in ...
Actually, while expressing all of this to you, I’ve just clarified a lot for myself concerning what's taking place that I can feel but not see inside my think tank's cocoon. In fact, I wonder if it’s too much to hope that a conglomeration of tensely compressed, deeply repressed emotional reactions stemming from a host of steamy, long lasting frustrations, each of which proves way beyond my control to repair, is in the process of morphing from compressed complacency toward realistic combustibility while my defense system's rebelliousness readies itself to accept that which I cannot change so that, as unprocessed angst emerges all at once (like a pot of stew boiling over while the blind, leading the blind, continue to turn up the burner on the stove, notch by notch, time must pass before this geyser-like, subconscious release can be accurately assessed as to the depths of my fury (concerning each frustration) by the conscious portion of my naturally intuitive brain (Aha! here comes my imagination, thinking wishfully that with emergence, the whole stormy lot will evaporate into thin air. Gosh! Wishful thinking aside, wouldn’t a release of deeply repressed, utterly congealed angst prove to be a wholesome change, indeed, for a mind as active as mine, which proves in need of relaxing by consciously offering itself more down time to rest if I am head off episodes of PTSD before I pass exhaustion's point of no return. Then, I signed the text with an emoji heart preceding my name.
Hmmm—I sure hope that most of the text (paraphrased above) is not wishful thinking—oh wait! I just spotted My Fixer reaching for my sunscreen while readying herself to slip into my bathing suit so as to head out to the hot tub overlooking the resort's serene ocean view! Sounds good, right? In fact, I’m about to pull today’s train of thought into a rest station so that the sum of my parts can slide wholly into the water that’s bubbling up in a most inviting way as though warmly welcoming my decision to stop writing in favor of relaxing—
Hey!
Hold the presses!
Tis light bulb flashing time inside my mind!
Insight has just spotlighted this probability—
My first thought (about cocooning while shedding a self-debasing trait) was not my best thought, because rather than shedding a self-debasing trait, the conscious portion of my mind has just landed upon this reality: One of my positively focused traits has been actively gaining strength, and the name of this high self esteeming, self confident trait is my self assertive voice, which in the past could not say no to certain loved ones, because I’d felt that their needs had preempted mine—namely my three sons. However now that each has grown to full-fledged manhood—my vision of my mothering self (which has actively been in flux for quite some time), can clearly see that I’ve been shedding my think tank's idealistic attitude concerning motherhood in favor of expanding my processor's wingspan!
Without a shadow of doubt based in undeserved guilt, ‘tis my time in life to expand my wings so as to offer my spirit the freedom to soar, not above the classic dramas of family life, but high enough to enjoy and re-energize my good health by inspiring my think tank to wholly accept my need to retire The Fixer as well as my Control Freak, who has long been pounding away at my neo Cortex, begging my intelligence to ready itself to admit to need for subconscious release. And as today’s sense of clarity glances reflectively over the past several decades of my life, I come to see that these two traits have comprised my Thing One and Thing Two, who, left on their own, had overwhelmed my peace of mind by sweeping my think tank into the eye of one gritty sandstorm after another, most of which had not been mine to clean up, over most of my life!
In short, as Oliver Livingston Seagull had need to learn—I've consciously known it unnecessary for me to lead the flock; however, subconsciously that's not what I'd felt—leaving my peace of mind torn in two. In fact, I had to exhaust, several times, in order to feel that tis way past time for my middle aged wings relax and fall back within the formation, knowing full well, that as hard as the winds blow, the minds of my three sons, each heading his own flock, are as well rooted in family values as their spirits have been free to scout out the great unknown that lies ahead of each of us as well as our family's flock as a whole. And thus does today's intuitive train of thought spotlight the string of insights, which, given time to process and absorb the monumental restructuring of this change for the better in my attitude, will refocus my think tank toward more consciously and consistently upon relaxing my mind before exhaustion sucker punches my mental strengths, freeing PTSD to entrap and swallow my intellect's hold on logic into that little house of horrors, where three year old me had mistakenly held my positively focused smile accountable for empowering everyone I'd encountered to join in my mission to overcome their dark sides without doing a whit of internal work necessary to achieve the universal nature of one of life's most arduous tasks. If knowledge is power, and if seeking knowledge concerning the complexity of the human brain is my advocation, then where did I go wrong?
I'm as naive as the next person, who remembers that the exploration of the human brain is in its infancy. I have not studied neuropsychology. I studied communication skills—and I thank my lucky stars for that, because otherwise, the bright side of my brain may never have grown so intuitive as to communicate openly and honestly with the dark side of my imagination.
As to whether the probability penned above will prove to be a factuality—time will tell. As for now, my need to cocoon while surrounded by my beloved family makes sense! And since today's thought process has made its way through yet another foggy segment of emotional combustion within my brain space so as to spotlight common sense beckoning my think tank to come in for a soft landing, followed by a hug, peace of mind has been naturally restored—at least momentarily.
Seriously—up until today, I’d had no conscious clue that, over this past year, I’ve been working to expand my mindset (wingspan) so as to develop the ability to state (simply, clearly, self confidently and graciously) that respecting my needs as I age is as important to me as satisfying my adult sons’ need of me. I mean what devoted mother says that aloud? The answer to that last question is—a mother who, though devoted to every member of her family, intuitively comes to see that she cannot expect anyone to respect her needs unless she can calmly, patiently and with good nature intact—assertively clarify her needs to one and all—including me—especially my need to recognize when to replenish my energy source, which, with every birthday, runs out of steam more quickly while demanding more downtime to refuel. Speaking from experience, even the white whiskered Energizer Bunny (which had once-upon-a-time twinned with me) has need to be replaced or restored to full capacity upon morphing into a rechargeable variety—and that’s the truth.
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