I Feel What I Feel When I Feel It

via Wikipedia

Recently, along with a lot of other folks, I felt caught up in exultation and "justice served, at last!" at the overwhelmingly "Guilty verdict" passed on child molester Jerry Sandusky.

Reading some of the message boards, I was struck by one commenter, who didn't "get" why so many people were rejoicing, and that made me take a closer look at myself.

I am not, and never have been, a prepubescent boy. True, I also experienced an incident of molestation when I was 12 (in central Pennsylvania, no less). However, without ever requiring my testimony or the cops even talking to me at all, the perp did did go to jail, where, rumor has it, he ended up dying an agonizing, long-drawn-out death of cancer several decades ago.

Karma wins - which is not always the case.

And while what happened to me was highly unpleasant, it wasn't the worst thing that ever happened to me; it wasn't something that ruined my life or haunted me.

As the saying goes, I "had no dog in this fight."

So why am/was I following the Sandusky case so closely? Why did it stir me up so much?

Was it because I related to the victims? To the struggling single mothers who thought that contact with a coach willing to act as a father figure would be good for them? Do I feel guilty as a former resident of Pennsylvania?

I don't fully know. I may never know.

What I do know, is that it's okay to feel what I feel. When I feel it. Maybe I want to sit down and pick that feeling apart, maybe I just want to notice it. You know, the whole Zen thing, sitting by the side of the stream, watching the stream, the leaves and twigs floating in it.  There's a feeling; how interesting.

I don't have to come up with a reason why I feel what I feel - not to myself, not to anybody else. I don't have to limit myself to only feeling certain emotions.

via Project Adventure

 There were years when, as a child, I was expected to suppress what I felt.

There were many years when I didn't allow myself to have certain feelings, at all, because it wasn't safe. I lost my mother to breast cancer when I was ten, but didn't begin serious grief work until I was 30 years old, and *I* was ready and felt safe enough to do so.

There were years living with my OCPD b-f when I was often told, if I expressed certain feelings, that they were wrong, and instructed as to what I "should" feel instead. I have had (former) friends try to do the same thing, tell me I was wrong/silly/unjustified in feeling a particular emotion.

I am SO done with that. I am done with anyone (outside of a trusted mental health professional) telling me that my feelings are over- or underdone; that they are inappropriate or wrong, somehow.

 I'm letting myself feel what I feel, when I feel it. Period.

How about you?

Have you ever been told you "shouldn't" feel a particular way?
Did you rejoice in the Sandusky verdicts?

A-Z: Zen - Much Like Obscenity

I find the idea of the Zen mind, of "Zen" in general, to be a lot like obscenity. It's hard to describe, but I know it when I see it.

This is a Zen thought, for example.

Source: weheartit.com via Pinterest

Too often we churn over the past, playing the game of "If only I had done/said this," beating ourselves up for whatever mistake we believe we've made. To what end? We didn't do or say that other thing. And if it was truly a mistake, certainly, let's take steps to repair any hurt we caused to others, but we can't undo the past.

(Mind you, it's not okay to keep hurting another person in the same way, and then using the excuse, "Hey, let's not linger on the past." If we truly can't stop continually hurting someone in a particular way, because of mental illness or bad habits or anything else, we need to get help.)

One way to "be Zen": To connect with a Higher Entity: Buddha, Jesus, God, Allah, Mary...

One thought: "Being Zen refers to meditating, reaching a peaceful state; to be one with the world around you and yourself."

In this video clip, there's reference to the stream. The idea of being Zen is to not be swirled up in the stream (of thoughts and emotions), but to be sitting peacefully beside it. "Look, there's a leaf, how interesting." To be a calm observer, who mindfully decides what, if any, actions or speeches to make.

Let's say someone says something to you that is terribly insulting, and your immediate feeling is hurt and/or anger.

If you are operating "in a Zen way," you don't immediately respond. You examine the feeling ("Oh, I feel very, very angry," or "Oh, I feel terribly hurt,") and then, after carefully observing and understanding the feeling, choose what action you want to take.

• You may let the insult slide past, like water off a duck's back.
• You may punch the other person in the nose.
• You may tell the other person how angry you feel.
• You may cry.
• You may ask the other person for clarification, "What you said sounded very insulting, but I know, given the kind of person you are, you wouldn't deliberately insult me. Could you explain what you meant?"
• You may turn your back and walk away.
• You may calmly tell the other person how hurt you feel, and why.
• You may do any number of things. Point being, you are deliberately, thoughtfully choosing what you want to do, not simply reacting without thinking.

I'm working on trying to "be more Zen," but I'm thinking, it's the work of a lifetime.

***

So, we've made it, from Anosognosia to Zen. Phew! Next week, May 8, we'll return to Too Perfect Tuesdays and the regular blog posts.

My A-Z theme is Issues related to Mental Health or Mental Illness.

Do you have comments on the idea of being Zen?

Is there a subject you'd like to see on this blog in the coming months?

Did you have a favorite post for the A-Z posts here?

How the Buddha Girl Got Cracked

As I was decorating my new apartment last year, I saw a photo of this small Buddha woman/girl in one of my many catalogs and fell in love with her. (FYI, I was once the catalog queen of the West Coast, though I have cut down substantially) She radiated peace, tranquility, compassion. I decided I must have her, that she would help me keep focused on being Zen, letting go, breathing.

Eventually, as things settled down, I decided she belonged in my bathroom. Bought a couple of white floating shelves - but she didn't look good on a white shelf. Bought a dark shelf, and gave the white ones to a friend.

She looked awesome.

But... she's fairly substantial, weighing about four pounds. And I live in SoCal. Earthquake country.

So of course, the next project was finding museum wax to secure her on the shelf, in case of earthquake, so she wouldn't come flying off the shelf and brain me in the head as I was seated on my white porcelain meditating spot. Should said earthquake occur while I was *ahem* Taking Care of Business.

Done. Now, here's where the fleas come in. *scratching*   I could have put a single daub of museum wax on the bottom center, and she would probably have been just fine. But, being accustomed to OCPD-think, I decided to place three daubs of museum wax under her, one at each corner, and really press her down on the shelf, hard. Better overdoing than doing just enough, right?

Photo via mksystem at Flickr
Fleas, or just a good healthy scratch?

Buddha Girl was fine for one night, then she cracked.

At first I was really distraught.  Thought about throwing her away, and getting a new, uncracked one.  or perhaps using wood stain (or my cheap and easy go-to, colored markers) to minimize the appearance of said crack.

Then I realized, Buddha Girl is even better now.  She's my reminder that overdoing doesn't always work out for the best.  A reminder to check for fleas.  A reminder that sometimes flawed and cracked is better than perfect.

Now I look at her (several times a day, depending on my water consumption) and smile.

She's cracked and flawed.  I'm cracked and flawed.

And we're both perfect, just the way we are.

Do you have a talisman, picture, or some reminder 
that being flawed is perfectly okay?

Your thoughts?