Loving It in Lubbock

The road trip has begun. I left Houston on Thursday and trekked up highway 36 to Lubbock, where I met my brother Kuhrt and his wife Lindsey. Only an hour into my adventure, I took a detour to visit Blue Bell Creameries in Brenham, TX. Who could resist the lure of fresh-made ice cream (other than my brother, who mysteriously does not like ice cream all that much)? It's nearly a sin that I've lived in Houston for six years and never visited the creamery.

You'd think everyone on the tour was six year old, the way we were instantly fascinated by the fast-moving assembly lines. Ice cream sandwiches, rainbow bars, and carton after carton of oh-so-creamy ice cream, all put together and packaged before our eyes. The free scoop of ice cream at the end didn't hurt either. I'd say it was altogether worth the five dollar admission price.

Tummy happy, I was on my way. It's a beautiful drive—maybe not the most beautiful in the world, but amazing just the same. Blue skies and green expanses made me feel that I really had escaped the doldrums of my life in Houston. I'm really doing this. I popped in some Clarissa Pinkola Estes, and nourished my spirit in daydreams I can't remember.

During the last hour, lightning struck very near my car more than once. Stealth lightning that hit without thunder came before any raindrops. Luckily, I made it to my brother's house before the larger part of the storm hit.

It’s amazing what seeing a brother will do. The relationship between a brother and sister is a special thing—a jewel that varies from one brother/sister pair to another. My younger brother and I have always gotten along. Aside from occasionally terrorizing each other as children, we got along peacefully.

Because we never attended the same school at the same time, we didn't have to deal with much sibling rivalry. Sure, it probably annoyed him that my name preceded his in middle school and high school. But one conversation with Kuhrt removed any preconceptions anyone might have of him. Happily, we are very different people. Whereas I tend to be uptight, obsessive, and anxious, Kuhrt tends to be laid back, practical, and jovial. People like Kuhrt immediately, and he's one of my favorite people in the world to be around. He's absolutely a joy to talk to.  I've always been happy I have a brother—and that I have this particular brother.

Needless to say, I feel taken care of here in Lubbock. I leave for Santa Fe tomorrow, and I definitely want to hold onto the feelings of belonging I have here. My trip definitely has an introspective focus, but it's nice to temper that with connection and high-value relationships. I tend to undervalue my relationships, but more and more, I know that I cannot live without them. My touchstones on this trip will sustain me for the solitary, introspective days in between.

What's more, I played at D'Vine Wine last night. Despite another crazy storm, I had a wonderful time. People I haven't seen in ages came out to support me, and it was fun to play three hours worth of music and work on new material. Thank you so much, Vikee Clark, for the hook up!  I can't wait to come through and play again.

For now, I'm luxuriating in the fact that I am loved and that I love others. My darkest moments come when I feel most disconnected. People ground me in reality. I need my alone time to gather my inner strength and to listen to the wisdom that only comes from the soul.  And I need other people to expand my awareness and to give and receive love. Without both pieces of live, I cannot thrive. 

This trip already rocks!

Projectile Sharing

Sometimes, when I don’t share something that’s been burning on my heart—when I suppress it and refuse to speak it to another person for a long period of time—that something eventually comes out on its own. It will be shared… and often with the wrong people.

A friend and I were discussing this a few weeks ago, and she suggested I blog about it. The night before our discussion, she had laid out her heart for a group of people (not just an individual person) she didn’t know very well.  Yes, a little alcohol was involved, but not much. Sometimes, it doesn’t take much. When we need to share, we share.

When we go through hard times, we are hard wired to connect with others and pour some of those feelings and experiences out. We can’t hold them all alone. Unfortunately, it seems that many of us are hardwired to suppress the impulse to share. Why?  Perhaps saving face or feeling competent and in control are more valuable to us than feeling better. We do many things that prevent us from healing because our self esteem matters more.

It’s our self esteem we’re talking about here—not a small thing. We want to protect our self esteem, and it drives us to hide things that have caused us shame. This sometimes means that we go for long periods without talking about the heaviest things on our minds. And when those thoughts and feelings get too heavy, they come bursting out, all over people who may not be safe to share with.

Of course, some people don’t have this issue. They understand relationships intuitively. Bravo for them—for you if you fall into that category! Maybe I’ll get there one day. For now, however, I have to work to reach out and open myself up to perceived disgrace or rejection. I forget that people will more than likely embrace me when I share something difficult. I forget that I often leave the situation with more self esteem, because the other person validates my feelings or accepts me, regardless of what I’ve done or experienced.

It’s best to share when you know you need to. Listen to your heart, and when it aches, don’t wait. Call someone. Even when you’re not sure if you’re ready to share, you can get on the phone and tell someone that you have something you want to talk about. You can leave it at that, or maybe you will realize that you are ready to open up. The important thing is to let someone know that a secret burns within you, that you a have a burden that needs lifting, or that you have something wonderful to say. Speaking this truth starts a positive, active flow. If you don’t share, you’re damming the flow and possibly causing feelings of stagnation or depression.

I understand the fear of becoming a person that shares profusely, all the time, with inappropriate people. I am not advocating projectile sharing. Listen to your heart, and it will tell you when you need to open up and will often guide you to safe people with which to share. I’m trying to save you from the uncontrollable sharing that happens when thoughts and feelings lie dormant for too long. Stay in touch with yourself.

Those are my two cents. Don’t let the need to share build up to the point where it could spew out on anyone. If you are so concerned about what other people will think, wouldn’t it be best to share it with the people who are least likely to look down on you for it? Now is the time.

The Deepest Desire

It’s not just that I want to be known.

For a long time, I thought that what I most deeply wanted was for another human being to see and appreciate everything about me. Most people want this at some level, and I experienced angst every time something reminded me that absolute knowing is, in fact, impossible. One person can know another for eons and still never peel back every layer.

I pained and hurt and struggled with this—and the idea that I was not allowing people in, that I did not allow people to know me. What was I doing to block their advances? Why would I do such a thing? The cure seemed to lie in me laying down my defenses and learning how to open up about myself in a clear, authentic way. I needed to do this more often. Practice would bring me my desire—or something as close to full-knowing as I could get. So I practiced and tried and worked.

One evening, I bent over the sink, washing a skillet, when the notion of a hypothetical someone breaking into my heart entered my mind. I chose to pause there and keep the thought, as it had been a repeated visitor over the years. I had written songs about it, longed for it, cried on my floor, begging the universe to send someone into my home—into my life—who would break down the walls and catch me at my most vulnerable point. I deeply desired that someone would infiltrate my most heavily guarded space.

There, as I scratched at a piece of cooked-on dinner, an especially frank thought rose to accompany my old friend: “They wouldn’t have to break in if you would open the door.”

At first, it struck me as achingly profound. Of course, just open the door. How simple! “Cling to this thought,” I told myself. “This is something to remember.” But the comfort I expected to flood my heart as a result of the remembering never came. Why did this dramatic solution leave me empty?

Because it was the same answer I’d given myself dozens if not hundreds or thousands of times: Just let people in, open up more readily, live life more honestly, take more chances, and expose yourself regularly. I’d done all of that. I was trying to do it more and more… and still, no one could ever completely know me. No one could see every region.

My scrubbing slowed even further. “Is that what I really want?” I asked myself. “Is my deepest desire really to be known?”

Partly. No one could deny that. This preoccupation had not lingered for so long without gaining my interest. The momentum it provided me to reach new levels of self-actualization was no accident.

However, I had overlooked its partner desire, which takes me back to the original thought in the kitchen: I wanted someone to break in. I didn’t yearn only to be known. I longed for someone to want to know me.

I wanted someone to beat down the door, to go to extraordinary lengths, to be so captivated by me that they would risk even my affections to see my soul.

The desire was two-part: (1) I wanted to be known (2) by someone who wanted to know me.

This key realization has moved something within me. The pressure—at least some of the time—has lifted. The burden is no longer completely on me to open up and bare my soul to the light of day. Yes, I still work on revealing my authentic self more often. Yes, I want to open the door a little further and show the world more of who I am.

But the completion of my desire to be known is not in my hands. No matter how much I open up or give, it is up to the universe and to the people in it to bring someone to my door who will go to any means to break through it.

I can rest, understanding that if I do not satisfy my craving to be known by someone, my life has not been lived in vain. All I can do is to take on the role of my ideal, interested person for others, which will hopefully help me leave the door unlocked for people who decide to persistently pursue more knowledge about me.

Peace in Chaos

Chaos. Christmas = chaos. But for the moment, the chaos is outside of me and does not invade my personal space of peace. Last night, however, I felt chaotic inside.

I’ve been thinking quite a bit lately about chaos. Daily, I’m assaulted by thoughts – tons, sometimes repetitive. Many would suggest that this condition could be remedied with medication. In fact, I am finally to the point where I am considering it. I have done so much self-exploration and practice many techniques, but the sheet number and repetitive/distracting nature of the thoughts is bothersome beyond compare.

Christmas festivities in my family typically usher in a reign of chaos. One of my primary objectives during the holidays is to maintain a state of peace within, even though I am usually surrounded by a flurry of activity and distraction. This year, the holidays truly reflect what I have been feeling inside.

I'm longing for a place to relax and settle, to give my full attention to the things I’m interested in. I have so many thoughts, so many creative ideas, but I seem to lack the ability to focus enough to turn those thoughts into anything fruitful. This is the current challenge.

I want to live in the moment, but it’s tiring to be dragged from one thought to the next. I want to grip one idea long enough to follow it through.

For now, though, my main objective is to nurture the peace inside myself. Lots of activity, lots of holiday love, but it can leave me lost. I have to take breaks to stand outside, get some quiet, tap into what I want, and assert my wants and needs. I cannot be embarrassed to do what is right for me, even if it is not like what everyone else is doing. If I need alone time, I need to take it. If I need to exercise, I can. If I need to sit still and rest, I can. I can sleep as late as I need, stay home if I need to skip out on a group activity, or work on things that are important to me even if I think people will call me strange. Usually, no one cares, and everyone is following their own yens, too. It’s up to me to keep the peace inside.

Even here, with my family, without a proper bedroom, on a weekend when I might rather be home, I am doing well. I have been listening to the truths I know and allowing my own leanings today. Yesterday was a different story. I felt trapped and unsure. Events triggered memories of holidays past and brought up anger and anxiety that I didn’t even recognize. Instead of listening to myself and seeing what was happening, I ate to get through the evening. I used food as a distraction and a crutch to make my way through Christmas Eve activities.

Today, I got up and made a new choice. I took time to check in with myself last night and woke up this morning more centered and aware of what I want. I can appreciate the love and enjoy myself without automatically linking celebration to getting what I want food-wise. I have to consciously make the effort.

Today, because I’m more aware of what I want and have taken steps to get it, I can embrace the love around me so much more. I am much more present and able to focus in the midst of the craziness that is my family holiday.

I’m enjoying Christmas now, and I’m also practicing the focused attention I’ve been longing for. Despite rapid-fire thoughts and constant activity around me, I am writing this blog. That’s a feat in itself.

And as an apology for not having posted in many weeks, I’m including a recent recording. Chris Longwood and I were in the studio at Sugar Hill last weekend, where I did several piano recordings along with some more on the guitar. I’m continuing to tweak and am glad to finally share my songs with a larger audience. More gigs to come! And more peace…

Here I Am
http://sites.google.com/site/michellecowandownloads/downloadables/04HereIAm.mp3?attredirects=0&d=1

How I Speak

I speak through food. Yes, I express myself in MANY other ways, discovering more and more as I grow in eating disorder recovery, but I still speak through food. When I can find no other voice, I use food. I use the cooking of it, the consuming of it, the way I prepare it, the place I go to get it, the time and speed of the process, the specific foods that I select (and do not select), and much more to say the unsayable.

Right now, I am also using food to prevent myself from saying something, to prevent myself from feeling emotions I am afraid to feel. I don’t want to admit that I am anxious about one of my relationships. I don’t want to admit how much I enjoy this relationship and want it to continue. At the same time, I’m embarrassed that I can’t commit 100 percent.

I can’t seem to divorce myself completely from the eating disorder—that and all the other activities and people in my life take up a lot of space that I don’t want to give up, even for something as wonderful as what I currently have with this particular person. It would be nice to have a relationship in which I feel complete abandon—to the extent that I would abandon everything else for it. There’s exuberance and freedom in that. But I have yet to experience that.

The desire to preserve myself and my way of life is healthy. Nonetheless, the part of me that wants to go crazy and run blind, headlong into inticing activities or relationships, is whining a little more than I’m used to. I really wish I could let go this time, but I'm following a familiar pattern.

When I allow my emotions to run wild, two things seem to happen. 1) I do ridiculous things and behave in silly ways, complete with emotions that bewilder me. 2) I find myself eating more frequently, taking more care when ordering food to get EXACTLY what I want, and possibly bingeing in my trademark, methodical way. If I cannot control my emotions, then I must feel in control somewhere else. The default choice is food. When I allow myself freedom in one area, I grip the other (food) more tightly.

But it need not be! I have uncovered the pattern and gained awareness. I don’t need food to make me feel special. I can feel special in a relationship and in other activities. Food is not the only avenue to satisfaction. Realtionships do not mean I have to give up food or my means of expression. I have many ways of communicating my needs. Just because I live in relationship with others does not mean that I discard my desires for theirs. My feelings and needs are equally legitimate and deserving of respect and attention, and I can express them through multiple means, even when food is not an available option. I am a grown-up who needs not fear losing her voice or herself.

I have learned many ways to speak my truth over the years. The fears I have of drowning and enmeshing in another person are unfounded. I demonstrate discernment and self-awareness on a daily basis.

The key is to open my mouth. I have decided to start thinking aloud more often. Sure, this could result in weird looks and confusion, but in more cases, it has already led to greater understanding and connection between me and the people I’m near. If others can hear the thought process that their comments or the situation catalyzes, they can understand where my responses come from.

Often, I think aloud after the fact. I try to explain what I was feeling I behaved a certain way by describing the process that went on inside of me. As the other person hears my story, I become less of a mystery and much more accessible and welcoming toward feedback. I feel much less insane when others indicate that they have felt exactly the same way or done the same things. I’m not so alone in my craziness. I’m closer to normal than I realize.

And when I voice my inner turmoil, I need not speak through the cryptic language of food. Of course, there are times when cooking, eating, ordering, or giving food serve as appropriate expressions of love and other feelings. There is space for that in my life, no doubt. But I don’t have to use food all the time. It need not be my go-to for every issue. I can say what I feel.

It’s time to think aloud. It's time to speak with words, not food.