From Oct 24, 2008

I’m getting better at interpreting my anxiety for what it is.

Before now, I would interpret it as something being wrong with my body or my car.  It would freak me out more and I would spiral into feeling afraid and numb.

Over the last six months, I’ve been working on identifying the triggers, which helps me to acknowledge that when I’m feeling fearful, it is my anxiety– not my body or car that is causing me to feel this way.

It’s been one helluva trek.

I decided today that when I acknowledge that I’m feeling anxious or fearful, I’m going to say to myself, “Calm up” instead of “Calm down.”

First of all, self talk is HUGE.  Humans are gullible.  They’ll believe anything they want– or don’t want, depending on the emotion they have attached to the belief.  If they think the source of the belief is reliable, the belief becomes fact.  The reason self talk is so important is that generally our self talk reflects our core beliefs!  Therefore, I find it completely and absolutely necessary to tell myself something to calm my nerves.

Second, fear is a negative emotion.  When I feel afraid, it’s on the down turn of the continuum.  I’ve decided that instead of calming “down,” I should be lifting my mood and calming “up.”

So, there you have it.  Repeat to yourself: “Calm up, Ash, calm up.”

From Jun 30, 2008

Somehow the words escape me.  I just wrote two short blogs, one after another, trying to convey this thankfulness.

It is the darkest part of life that defines the contrast between darkness (sadness, fear, anger, violence) and light (love, laughter, joy, happiness).

As much as I’ve not personally experienced much darkness, I can still bear witness to the most horrific places on the dark end of the spectrum.  I know how bad it can be.  Naively and blessedly, I am forever grateful that this lifetime of mine falls more upon the light side of this spectrum.  I have always had a knack for silver linings.

From Jun 1, 2008

Two things about yard work:

a) For me, it cures the blues.

b) Anyone who does not like yard work has never used a weed whacker.

Seriously, it’s the coolest tool almost in the entire planet.  And, I’m like, uuuuber macho and plugged it in and stuff and USED it.

I even broke the string and had to pull it out twice.  No wonder guys like yard work.  Seriously, this toy is the shit.

I’ve been vedddy busy this weekend.

I finished an article summary, planted my garden, hand watered the lawn, cleaned up dog poop, cleaned the cat box, done all the laundry, vacuumed the upstairs and kids bedrooms, taken out the trash, mowed the front lawn, weed whacked the back yard, and…

Yep, sunshine is like speed for me.  I should do it more often.

From May 18, 2008

I had a reminder today… about how beautiful my life is.

I love those sorts of reminders.

Just like I’ve been saying: it’s the contrast that makes the good things great!

From May 18, 2008

What’s the opposite of dying? Thriving, maybe?

I feel like I’m waking up. This is what Springtime is for me. A re-awakening. My senses are turned on again: suddenly I am overwhelmed with the smell of fresh cut grass, blooming choke cherries, and the natural scents of the tree bark. I am reminded to observe smell. The spectrum of colors is awake again, and I can’t help but stop in awe of the varieties of colors found within such a tiny little planet. Amazing. I am drawn to touch the new growth, berries and stickers and soft bodies of freshly budding plants; my movements more excited… My routines are more fruitful and my music is turned up just a little louder. Amazing how a (my) human body can lie dormant just like a rosebush. I feed off of my plants doing well. I feed off of tulips and daffodils. I feed off of observing weeds grow six inches in a matter of days. It reminds me to grow, to thrive.

I was dancing in my kitchen this morning. I hadn’t even had my coffee yet. Just shake shake shakin it, Jameson the Dane looking at me with distrust, his head cocked.

Part of my peculiarity is that I appreciate the absurd. As I wake up, I’m more prone to play jokes on the expectations we have. Hence the dancing by myself in the kitchen. Hence the listening to classical piano while riding the bus. Hence the quitting smoking during a difficult time. I’m aroused by the absurd. Or perhaps, when aroused, I am absurd. *chuckle*

I love having the windows open. I love the music playing. I love nag champa burning. Bells from the neighbor’s wind chime float in on the breeze right through my window, and they dance with my houseplants. I love this season. I love remembering to wake up. I can’t wait for my partner to be home so I can share this with him.