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.

Miss Independent

What happens when a woman, surrounded by reminders of her strength as an individual and who highly values her sense of independence, realizes that she doesn’t want to be quite so independent anymore?

Answer: A wrestling match.

Two sides of me are wrestling, battling it out. Although independence is one thing everyone can depend on me for, I want something else. I want to share, too. I don’t want to lose my individuality, but I want to experience the joys of merging more with the people I care about. I want to feel engrained in the lives of others, or at least one other person, and for them to feel a part of mine. Perspectives broaden when moments are shared, when visions are exchanged, when authenticity reigns supreme.

I want more of that joy, yet I want to grow in my own way. I don’t want to get caught up solely in the interests of another human being or for people to cling to me and ride my coat tails. I want to branch out freely according to my own path and let my deepest seed spring to life.

But I also want to experience that kind of growth with someone else. I want to get a little wrapped up in the cares and concerns of someone else. I want to tell someone about my journey and hear about hers or his, too. That would broaden me.

So I wrestle. I try to hang on to my free time and try to do things that stretch me while holding the deep desire to be with someone else and participate in life with him or her. I spend time with other people while making sure to assert my own opinions and ask if we can together share the growth experiences I could engage in solo.

Until I find a balance, I’ll feel the tension. There must be tension to build up new parts of me. Until harmony is achieved, I’ll simply be grateful to experience something I haven’t ever really had in my life.

I suddenly want to share my life, in a genuine, actionable way. The notion of sharing a life is no longer, for me, a hypothetical exercise. I honestly desire a kind of merge. I don’t want to jump into foolhardy codependency, but neither do I want to remain at arm’s length. I’ve experienced much of the world alone. What would it be like to experience it with a second set of eyes, or at least with someone to tell the story to at the end of the day?

Energy Use and Disappointment

Some people come into my life, use my energy, and don’t understand that it takes time for me to recover. I need reboot time, and other people seem to be either better at recharging or in less need of it. I wish more people were sensitive to the fact that I need a significant amount of downtime to rest, think my own thoughts, and then reenter the world with a full tank of creative energy.

Right now, I need to focus on embracing my need for rest and not feeling guilty when I have to (or simply want to) turn down social invitations in favor of introspective time. When I am unable to do things I enjoy because my mood or physical condition leads me toward something else I enjoy, I feel guilty. I feel guilty for missing out on personal growth opportunities or fun experiences. And I feel doubly guilty if someone may have been let down by my decision.

This smells a lot like people pleasing to me. I’m trying to please imaginary “perfect Michelle” and everyone else around me instead of listening to my heart, mind, and body. It’s time to give up and be honest with people, admitting what I want and how I feel. I have no choice at this point. I can only be me. I tried for so long to be someone else, but this is, in fact, who I am.

Although I love going out and having a good time, I also need a lot of quiet. Additionally, I want to consciously forgive those who seem to steal my energy so that I can start drawing better boundaries for myself based on what I know I can or want to handle.

It’s a process. When I focus on not “missing out” or not disappointing anyone, I run myself into the ground with constant activity—emotional or physical. After a few complete burnouts, I get the message. It’s time to recharge and reassess my own desires and limits.

Speaking Our Minds

How do we balance the expression of our authentic selves with the desire to be kind to other people? Honesty must be tempered with thoughtfulness if we are to live truly satisfying lives. Sure, I would love to run around saying anything and everything on my mind, but I also value the people around me, especially my friends.

If we err too much in one direction, we say nothing at all or fall into people pleasing. We may say things we don’t mean because we think we know what the other person wants to hear. If we can’t determine what the “appropriate” response should be, then we say nothing at all. I’d say that most people who are out of balance fall into this category. Human beings are built for community and often seek to preserve it even at personal cost.

This can be good. Sometimes, it serves no benefit to irk another person just because we have a differing opinion or we notice something that might irritate that person. But many times, valuable points of view are suppressed out of politeness or fear of rocking the boat or embarrassment. We all have to learn, at some point in our lives, that our individual voices matter. We must step out and say what we are thinking. We must risk hurting another to be honest.

We have to do these things or our personal feelings will stay bottled up inside until there is no room for any more repression. That’s when negative physical and mental conditions surface. It may take psychotherapy or another transformative experience (usually a combination) to move us into a healthier means of expression, where we assert our voices without deliberating too much on the repercussions of others. We can only sweep our side of the road. We cannot control the thoughts or feelings of others. It’s time to speak for ourselves.

However, oftentimes, after that transformative moment when we start learning new ways of expressing ourselves, the formerly repressed person can err too much in the other direction, where we can thoughtlessly speak our minds and ignore the consequences. Of course, there are people who naturally start out at this other end of spectrum, too.

At this end, we say what we feel in the midst of whatever company might be around. We believe in the value of our speech. Healthy self esteem can be at play here, but there is a point at which we can alienate or unintentionally hurt someone else. We may also spend too much time talking without reserving space to hear other perspectives.

Because the power that lies within each human being is a fascinating and exhilarating thing, especially when discovered inside oneself, people can become someone addicted to the rush of adding personal opinions to every conversation. If emerging from a repressed state, self-expression can require such a concerted effort and feel so foreign that an individual may still doubt s/he is expressing her/himself enough, even if that person is really going overboard. Because of this doubt, some cross the line into offense.

To be able to speak one’s mind, the constant worry about other people’s feelings needs to be lessened—but not eliminated. Self-expression should not be restricted simply because we fear we might offend someone. We have no way of knowing what might offend other people. But I believe that there are situations in which we can make educated guesses. The key is slowing down.

I must admit that I am quite familiar with the route from tight-lipped people pleaser to quick tongued attention seeker. I enjoy expressing myself and value my own opinion, but I have to balance this with an appreciation of other people’s expressions and a respect for their points of view. I am likely to say something shocking for mere entertainment value without considering the wounds it could cause in certain members of my audience.

I will never encourage someone to stifle their thoughts and not speak up when they feel like it. But I do advocate slowing down before responding and asking one to three questions before opening one’s mouth:
1. Will what I’m saying probably hurt someone?
2. Will I probably be hurt more by not saying this?
3. Is there a way to say this that will lessen the hurt for both me and the person (or people) this could hurt?

Notice that number one does not read, “Could what I’m saying hurt someone?” Anything could hurt anyone at anytime without us knowing it. People who tend toward quietness often overthink the likelihood that they will hurt someone else, almost always concluding that their words could hurt. Yes, they could. But the first question above asks if it would probably hurt—and that does not mean offend, but truly hurt. We can all distinguish this in most cases. Most of the time, what we say probably won’t hurt, and we can speak freely. On the other hand, we’ve all been in situations where we know that something we want to say requires a second look. That’s when we move to question two.

There are times when I will hurt more by not speaking up than the other person will hurt if I speak. If someone else needs to hear what I have to say, even if it hurts them at first, I can speak. I do not have to live knowing that I kept silent when I could have brought something important to light. Think of all the people who have written articles or made speeches that they knew would offend others (such as many vocal speakers in civil rights movements). Yes, they offended some people. But the need to say the things on their minds outweighed the hurt that may have occurred.

We can also reduce this to smaller issues. Do I really need to tell so-and-so that her lipstick color is completely inappropriate for the occasion and does not flatter her skin tone? I may take great pride in knowing the best color combinations and being at the height of fashion. So-and-so may need to know this to avoid future embarrassment. Some people wouldn’t mind having an on-the-spot consultation. But we all know people who would be crushed to know that they don’t look as beautiful as they thought. Even in seemingly casual things, we need to take the other person into account. Just because we might not care if someone told us something like that doesn’t mean that our more sensitive friends might not be crushed in that moment. We have to take into account the situation (party or private dinner, crowd or one-on-one) and the person (Do they need this information for the future, and can I even determine if they do?).

If it seems like the person would be significantly hurt by what I have to say, but I still feel a drive to say it, I can move to question three. Can I rephrase my thoughts? I don’t have to spout of the first line that comes to my head. I can mitigate the hurt. I can even see where my statement might be taken incorrectly and figure out a way to say it that will make my true meaning more apparent.

Personally, my first inclination is often to say the most shocking, bluntest thing. Being frank often garners the most attention, and that’s what I want if I feel that what I have to say is important.

However, there are times to smooth the edges. If I am honest with myself, I can often see that the bluntest way of saying something could be misread a million different ways. If I can simply be clearer, I can avoid hurting those I care about…and even those I don’t.

As my mom likes to say, “There’s a fine line between being honest and being a bitch.”

Anyway, not everyone needs this advice. Many people are completely capable of balancing their own need for expression with the needs of others. For some of us, though, we need some coaching before we can naturally feel out situations. I know that with email especially, sentences can be combed over a dozen times and the virtue of hitting the send button can be contemplated ad nauseam. Sometimes, words can be sent as-is, without another thought. Other times, those words may need some reworking. And in many instances, the send button can be avoided altogether.

Good luck in your eternal pursuit of balance. I’m working on mine for sure!

Safely Connected

Human beings are all connected as one. We all came from the same stuff, and we will all return to it. Yet we exist in separate bodies; to some extent, we are independent creatures.

But it fascinates me how useless many of us feel when the things we do are not visible to other people. I have a need inside of me to show other people the things I create, the acts I perform, and even the thoughts in my head. I want to share and be understood, even though both of those things are sometimes impossible.

Perhaps we are all aware of each other’s secret acts to some degree, but not consciously. And so we feel disconnected. For me, when I feel set too far apart, I start trying to connect by calling people and sharing feelings, by getting out and being around people, or by doing or making something for someone else. I try to put myself in the same space as others or in a place that will be connected to them at some point so that I feel less alone.

What happens when life limits my abilities? What happens when I start relying on fewer and fewer social outlets? Suddenly, I’m highly dependent on one or two people for support of many kinds. This feels dangerous to me. I don’t trust anyone enough to limit the extent of my trust to a single person.

The desire for a broad social net seems healthy to me. It must be best to maintain a chorus of different voices in my life, rather than one lone tone. I don’t need the same perspective every time I need to share something. I need a variety of opinions and ways of being to keep me better-rounded. There is no one right way to be. There are many, and I need regular exposure to them.

But what if I’m tired? What if I can’t seem to reach out to anyone except a couple of people? I feel scared in those times. I wonder if others are forgetting about me or if I’m wise to trust the few people I have let in. I wonder when I will feel energetic enough to get out there and broaden the circle again. I worry about it.

To battle this, I must return again and again to the notion of living in the present. I only know this moment, now. And perhaps, now, I feel tired and need rest. Now, I have certain people in my life, and now, I will love them as best I can. I will love others as they venture in and out of my spectrum. I am safe with one hundred friends, with five, and with none. I am safe. Whether I know it or not, I’m connected to everyone and can tap into that power whenever I want to.

The main thing is to live in faith, not fear, and to love those I can. That’s it. If my life constructs a certain group of people around me, I can accept it and move within that, even changing it if necessary. But I do it slowly, moment by moment, as I am able.

Never think your social circle is less or more than it should be. Just concentrate on the individual relationships and how you would like them to grow or fade right now. Everything else is overwhelming and results from worry about the future or about what other people think. If we nurture what we have and what we are interested in, things will fall into place, and we will feel loved. I believe that and wish it for all of you.

Safe Love

Where does love meet self-preservation? When does a relationship become too much for me? How do I balance my desire to help another with my own needs?

Some call it loving with limits. But for a romantic like me, who prefers a limitless view of love, it’s easier for me to call it loving safely.

Thinking about true love as a safe love helps me to not put up too-thick barriers of self-protection. I don’t have to be in defense mode all the time, on guard against all the people that could potentially hurt me. Relationships are complicated and difficult. I’m going to get hurt occasionally. I don’t want to hang myself up on that reality and block myself off from deep connection in an attempt to ward off pain.

Instead of living a mistrustful life and avoiding any potential complications, I can enter into relationships with open eyes and make decisions based on the safety of everyone involved. If I start realizing that I don’t have the internal or external resources to deal with the issues someone else brings into my life, I need to back off and/or tell the other person that it has become too much for me. I have to be even more in touch with myself than with the other person.

When I think about my relationship choices in terms of safety, backing off, breaking up, or having difficult conversations seem like less hurtful actions. I’m not blaming; I’m not running scared. I’m not being inconsiderate or self centered. I’m doing what’s best for everyone involved. I’m trying to love in the best way I know how, and that could take the form of limiting the amount or nature of contact I have with someone.

A relationship is never worth spiraling myself into peril. Facing fears is different than putting myself in danger, and communication is often the key to deciphering which category a particular situation falls into. I can acknowledge my fears or doubts and even discuss them with the other person most of the time before making any rash decisions. If I think that things we are doing or habits we have with each other are putting one or both of us in potential jeopardy, I can say so. I don’t have to keep my mouth shut to preserve positive feelings.

When I have engaged people I care about in these difficult kinds of conversations, one or both of the following usually occurs: 1) the relationship grows more intimate; or 2) I learn something meaningful about myself and humanity. Number two is a guaranteed result, as long as I’m paying attention. Number one is a bonus. Other relationships have to end or change in significant ways.

For today, I am listening to my friends’ problems, hearing their joys, and staying involved as much as I can. But I am also honoring my need for rest, for introspective time alone, and for safe distance from potentially harmful behavior. My goal is safety, my shield is awareness, and my sword is honesty. May I fight the honorable and loving fight.

Swap the Thought

Advice. There are few things I react more strongly to than the advice of others. I never want to take it! I instantly think I know better and assume the person could not see things from my complex point of view. It’s especially insulting when the advice-giving party offers suggestions I’ve already considered myself. Does s/he not think I’m smart enough to figure this out on my own?

Of course, this completely backfires when I find myself in situations I am not at all smart enough to figure out. Countless times, I find, to my dismay, that I am not strong or knowledgeable enough to accomplish a task set before me. Questions confuse me. I am physically unable to move an object or get to a certain place. I may simply lack knowledge of a location or subject. All of these circumstances require that I ask for help. My tendency to put off asking for help until the last, most dire moment, has made for more than one stressful evening.

Can I let my armor down? Can I trust the goodness of people? This is the challenge. I can no longer look simply at my instantaneous, almost unconscious rejection of help when it is offered. I can no longer sit and puzzle over why I would beg for help in my prayers and in my home alone and then deny the need for it when with other people. I must examine my mistrust of human beings in general.

In the past, people let me down fairly regularly. Indeed, I have dealt with many individuals who were not as smart, responsible, or creative as I am. Unfortunately, those interactions made more of an impression on me than the times I received extraordinary help or met people whose intelligence, strength, awareness, and artistry exceeded mine. I want to recall more of the satisfying, uplifting interpersonal encounters in my life.

This is the new project: Meditate on the best social interactions I’ve had in my life. Examine what made them so great. A large portion of those memories involve me receiving help. Oftentimes, I’m simultaneously giving help without even knowing it, but I want to concentrate on the gifts I’ve received rather than what I give. By filling my thoughts with and directing my focus toward the positive traits of others, I’m more likely to tap into the positive qualities of the people I know today. If I can more easily recall times when people have come through for me, the instinct to reject others lessens.

At least, this is the theory. I base it on the fact that I know a vast number of wise, creative, street smart, genuinely helpful people. None of them think I’m stupid, but all of them would assist me if I needed it and they were available. Seeing the truth of the goodness and capableness of people in this world makes my belief that people aren’t to be trusted seem ridiculous. Sure, there are a lot of nincompoops out there, but even they have something to offer and will offer it when the need arises. It’s just true. Even if a person can’t offer one thing, they may be able to offer another.

I want to put my preconceived notions about people to the side so that I can smile and accept it when someone comes along beside me and offers to help with a project. Right now, a wall immediately comes up, and I put off an “I am perfectly capable—I certainly don’t need you” vibe. I can’t stop that from happening simply through willpower. I have to start filling my head with thoughts that will counter the negative beliefs I have about human beings in general.

This approach has worked in other areas. Time and time again, telling myself to not binge or not be anxious or not freak out about the cleanliness of my apartment has no effect. Only by replacing those thoughts with others—such as images of eating grand meals that ended with me feeling happy and full, memories of times when troublesome situations worked out without me doing a thing, and recollections of all the times I have not been ill or suffered any negative consequences after forgetting to clean the bathroom—can I develop new patterns of behavior.

Now, I am replacing the memories of people’s unreliability and stupidity with reflections on certain individuals’ conscientiousness and brilliance. Soon, those images will outnumber the negative ones, and my instinctive rejection of help will hopefully diminish. I want to be open and honest with people, but how will I get the chance if everyone is afraid to approach me in the first place?

We’ll see if this thought-replacement exercise works as well now as it has in the past. I encourage you to test it for yourself. It’s not a quick fix, but I have high hopes.

Reach Out

Sometimes, I forget that one of the cures for any kind of troublesome thinking is simply opening up to someone else about what is happening or what is on my mind. No matter how trivial or ridiculous it seems, if I share my feelings or thoughts with someone, through ANY means—email, phone, in person, letter-writing, singing a song, crying when there are no words—the load lightens. I have to get the jumble of ideas or emotions out. And when I’m able to share details, it feels even better. Somehow, sharing really matters.

So obvious, and yet I forget that! Lies enter my head, like (and this is in no particular order):
1. It’s not that big a deal.
2. This is too huge/incomprehensible to deal with.
3. I’ve dealt with this a thousand times. Let’s just ride this one out.
4. I can handle this myself—or I SHOULD be able to handle this myself.
5. That person won’t be able to respond in a helpful or satisfying way.
6. I don’t want to bother someone else with this.
7. There’s no way to express this in an adequate or understandable way.

The key is replacing those lies with the following truths:
1. If I feel it, it matters. If this is an issue for me, it deserves attention.
2. Once I express something to someone either by speaking or writing, it becomes less of a monster. I can think through the thing and see it for what it is. If I am dealing with a long list of worries, stresses, or to-dos, looking at them written down makes the thoughts less repetitive and more contained. The mountain in my head is usually smaller than I think.
3. If I am dealing with an issue again, there is more to investigate. It still deserves attention. I will learn something new this time or more deeply cement truths I have not fully grasped.
4. I probably can handle this myself, but it will be much easier, lighter, and faster to ask for help. Simply getting a new perspective can mean the world when life gets confusing or overwhelming.
5. I have been surprised time and time again by people’s reactions. Often, the act of getting something out is all I need, regardless of the response, but by sharing, I at least present myself with the opportunity to receive a new gift. Also, if I don’t think one person can give me what I need, I probably know someone else out there who can. Reach out to that person.
6. I am never bothered when a true friend reaches out for help. I like hearing other people’s stories and want to be there for them. It deepens relationships. The person I try to contact does not have to pick up the phone or reply to my note if s/he does not feel like interacting. My friends value me and will be there however they can be. The main benefit for me is simply trying to communicate what I’m holding inside.
7. I can express this thought or emotion in any way I can. There are no rules. No method or means of expression is inferior. If I have to draw someone a picture or just dial a number and start sobbing, that is good enough. If the extent of my willingness or abilities enables me to send only a tiny email or IM that says, “I’m hurting,” that’s fine. When I can’t offer a big explanation, leave the house, or speak on the phone, there are smaller means of reaching out. If all I can do is send a letter that won’t get to the recipient for days, I can still write it. Trash the overtures and immediate reciprocity. I don’t have to have something to give in return for their time. An opportunity will rise to return the favor later. For now, let the monster loose!

I rarely have to suffer alone. Even if I can only seem to reach out to the same individual for a period of time, at least I reach out. The person might ask for some space after a while, but the process of choosing who to open up to usually follows a natural course. My perception is generally the only thing making me believe I’m “too much.”

Don’t bottle things up, my friends. Even little issues need airing, or they will fester and grow into infectious beasts. It’s amazing what a little word to a friend will do. Even if I have to start out doing nothing more than asking about the other person’s day, that form of outreach is good enough.

The main thing: Human beings are connected. We are made to share joys and sorrows. Everyone needs a chance to do what they are built to do. Reach out, regardless of how it looks!

Properly Nourished

It amazes me when, after frittering about for many hours, engaging in my interests or accomplishing necessary tasks, I sit down, become still, and feel a wave of sadness or fear. Did those feelings just appear, or was I blocking them with my activity? At that point, I begin to decipher exactly why I feel that sad or fearful.

Even more amazing is that the answer is almost always the same: I have not adequately nourished myself. Sometimes, I’m honestly hungry after performing all of those activities. A nice meal can sometimes be the cure for the blues. Most of the time, though, I’m missing a sense of security or am feeling disconnected from the world. I was so wrapped up in whatever I was doing that everything else fell by the wayside.

Sometimes, I’ll insist, “It’s not a question of nourishment. I just spent the last few hours doing things that interest me, things I like, and things I feel good about doing. Surely I can’t need more nourishment than that. I should want to go out and face the world now. I should be ready to party or help someone.” It goes on and on, and I’m missing the point.

We all need many different kinds of nourishment. Sometimes, we need to be alone to rejuvenate. Sometimes, we need a bath, a meal, a hug, a conversation, a walk, a bit of time outside, or a good night of sleep. There are many different kinds of needs.

I may enjoy writing, but spending a few hours doing it is still draining. It may seem self-indulgent to want a long, hot shower after doing something I love, but maybe I need that. Just because I nourished one part of me for a long period of time does not mean the rest of my needs have been fed. You can hold and cuddle a baby all day long, but she won’t stop crying if what she really needs is a diaper change. I have to nourish EACH part of me (and that includes getting out myself occasionally and filling my desire to be of service to others).

I can even convince myself that a phone call to a beloved friend is unwarranted after spending an hour responding to emails. While I may have filled my need for deep connectedness via letter-writing, I am missing a sense of immediate closeness. I may even need to go to a friend’s house to experience the physical presence of another person.

I can talk myself out of any kind of nourishing behavior just as easily as I can abuse another kind of behavior. I can put off simple acts of self care in the name of completing a home improvement project or preparing a gift for a friend. I can even put of certain forms of self-care in favor of other, “better” forms. For instance, I might insist that I read a spiritual or self-help book instead of a novel. Or I’ll try to make myself finish a song I’m working on when I really just need to play music without thinking.

I feel SO nourished when I simply allow myself to feel and go where I need to go. There are places I may not need to visit because they do not nourish me. There are certain friends that I only like to see after I feel completely physically and emotionally nourished because their homes are uncomfortable to be in or they do not connect with me on an emotional level. There are people I go to solely for companionship who may take more from me than they give. It doesn’t mean I like them less. It just means that our relationship works in a certain way, and I have to be aware that just because “visiting a friend” is one of my tools for feeling more grounded does not mean visiting CERTAIN friends is as beneficial as doing other things that make me feel connected.

If you’re looking for ways to feel more balanced in your life, you could try this little exercise (which I intend to do for myself). List out all the different ways that you feel nourished or loved. The list can contain things you like to do, people you enjoy being with, places you like to go, how you like your surroundings to be, types of physical touch that feel good, even work or volunteer service activities—anything that nourishes you physically, emotionally, intellectually, or spiritually.

Once you list the main things that make you feel good, think about each one and how often you use that item to feel nourished. Are there ones you use far more than others? Some you rarely use at all? Which ones do you want to incorporate more into your life?

If there are some that you use almost to the exclusion of others, you might want to consider whether you truly feel balanced. Are you nourishing your physical self when you really need to attend to your spirit? Are you nourishing your sense of connectedness with others while disregarding your intellectual needs?

I have puzzled a few times over friendships that seemed nourishing but that I had no interest in. I couldn’t figure out why I wouldn’t want to spend time with such perfectly all right people. After some inspection, I discovered that some of those relationships nourished me purely by providing an outlet for my caretaking side. I was able to care for these people and do things for them, but they weren’t capable of providing me with similar care. If I give and give and don’t receive intellectual stimulation, emotional support, or even physical care from a person, of course I will stop feeling compelled to spend time with him or her.

I had to let go of my guilt and take those relationships for what they were. It’s fine for me to continue to help them and hang out with them (although some relationships like that do need to end). But I need to realize that only the caretaker in me feels nourished by those relationships, so other needs will be left unmet. I have to make sure that I feel fully nourished before spending much time with people who cannot meet my needs.

Conversely, I have wondered why I was getting nothing out of certain friendships. I wanted to be friends, and it just wasn’t working. Well, I had to realize that I could not give what they needed. I did all the things for them that I do well, trying to nourish the friendship, but things never gelled. They didn’t feel compelled to grow closer to me because I could not provide the kind of care they needed.

That can be hard to accept, but being aware of what I am giving and what others need (and vice versa) has enlightened my friendships. This does not mean that I am inadequate or that the other people in my life need to shape up. We all simply have different things to give. Relationship dynamics are built on the compatibility of the ways we each receive and give love and support.

So – for today, I am exploring all the different ways I nourish myself, seeing if I’m neglecting any areas. I’m also examining the ways I relate with and nourish others. How do I need to stretch myself, and what parts of me do I need to accept? There are certain things that I can give right now and certain things I cannot. Can I accept these things and use this knowledge to make wise choices and grow? That’s the goal.

A Dozen Roses

I think many of us have pondered the notion of flowers as gifts. On some level, giving a flower says, “Here is a beautiful object. Now, you have to take care of it, but even if you do, it will still shrivel up and die. Oh, here’s a tiny packet of magic powder that will make it last a couple more days at least!” If this is a metaphor for love, who wants it?

Well, I’ve decided that maybe I do. Sure, eternal love is a nice thought, but until I reach that level with someone, I’m okay with a flower-like love—beautiful, fragrant, gentle, and when it fades, it fades. Put some effort and sparkle into it, and it might last a little longer.

I mean, I almost feel like a fraud telling someone I’ll love him or her forever. Is that possible? Can I really say that? The cynic in me emerges when I hear other couples exchange vows of unending love and rapture. It’s not that I don’t believe that they currently feel that way. I simple know the truth of what I’ve observed. Forever love is possible, but it’s certainly not the norm.

Throughout all aspects my life, the temporary nature of most things comforts me. In the midst of my eating disorder especially, every decision seemed so weighty, every feeling so insurmountable, every challenge so unending. Nowadays, I can face feelings and know that they will end. I may feel sad now, but I may not tomorrow—or even in as little as an hour. Feelings are fleeting.

Situations are temporary, too. A heinous roommate, a broken-down car, an electrical outage—they are all situations that can be moved out of or changed. Most illnesses even fall into this category. Most of the time, we just need to keep taking steps, any steps, and we will get out of the muck much faster than if we lay down and cry because our options appear nonexistent. (Of course, lying down and doing nothing can be entirely appropriate, but doing nothing can be considered a step in itself. Life is contradiction. Deal with it.)

Knowing that things will change and move with or without my effort takes a weight off of my shoulders. If I don’t like the bouquet life has given me, it will die pretty soon anyway. I can even throw it away before it dies if I want to! Sometimes, I have to wait for things to change on their own; other times, I can help speed the process. The bottom line is, I’m never stuck. Things are always moving, and there’s always an opportunity for growth and a place for newness to slip in.

Now that I’ve defended a cynical disbelief in eternal love, I’ll turn to the small percent of love that verges on deserving the adjective “forever.” It seems to me that the love that lasts a lifetime is really a series of different loves strung together and evolving in and out of one another. Other languages have dozens of words for love, an idea for which the English language is sadly lacking. Those other languages explicitly recognize what we all know: There are many different kinds of love.

And I need different kinds of love. I don’t always need the kind of love that gives me things all the time. Sometimes, I need a love that shows me how to deal with not having what I want. Sometimes, I need admirers; other times, I need peers or even pity. Sometimes, a mother love is best, then a father love, then a friend love, then a romantic love.

Of course, emotional love is important, but so is love that takes action and does things that say, “I love you.” Some kinds of love are less actionable but no less deep. Some loves baby us, and other loves tell us to buck up and move on. Some love accepts us exactly as we are, and another love might encourage us to change. All of these kinds of love, and more, cycle in upon each other and take turns.

There may be times in a relationship when two people treat each other more as friends, then more as lovers, then more as colleagues. The pros at this learn to integrate all kinds of love. They appreciate the diverse methods of love-showing instead of getting stuck in a single idea of love. And most importantly, I think, forever lovers remain open to the idea that love could change, and they embrace that change and love in whatever way they are capable of at the time.

No love is perfect, or maybe that means it’s all perfect.

Anyway, my final conclusion is that flowers are, in fact, an entirely appropriate representation of love. As if it even needed to be said…

Give What You Want to Get

A short reminder for everyone: Give what you want to get. It works!

I often feel that I work so hard to reach out to people and stay connected only to receive nothing in return. Sometimes it seems as if I give and give and am still left with days devoid of anyone reaching out to me. I want to feel connected with people, but I even more deeply desire for that connection to be initiated by someone else. I don’t want to have to call or go visit. I want to be invited.

Well, such is not life most of the time, at least for me. I have to reach out first, and then, more often than not, I receive a flood of phone calls and maybe a couple of invitations, reminding me that I am reached out to when I take that first, difficult step of getting outside my own head and calling out into the world. Usually, a simple phone call to a person I think will appreciate it starts the ball rolling.

Perhaps the human life is, ultimately, a lonely one. Mine certainly feels that way much of the time. But that loneliness can spur us on to give to others and seek connection. I seem to prefer alone time more than most people, but I do not want to wither away without deeply knowing other people or being equally known by others. This longing draws me out, even when I think, “I’ve certainly made enough effort in the last two weeks to invite people places, call them, or give them things. Why does no one call me on the spur of the moment? I’m going to wait it out until someone calls.” Eventually, I realize that I have, in fact, received many a spur-of-the-moment call. I am invited a great many places, although oftentimes, they are not invitations I feel inclined to accept.

The fact is, I already have the love I seek within me. When I call someone, even when I think I’ve already made plenty of gestures that should warrant some incoming affection, I undoubtedly experience a shift in thinking. When the other person answers and starts telling me about his or her life, the world opens up. Suddenly, there is more to life than me; other people are having fun and struggling in different ways than I am.

And strangely, after hanging up after what is usually a most satisfying conversation (if it’s not, I typically call someone else), I’ll start getting those invitations and phone calls I craved. It may not be until the next day, but I take note of the influx of communication that appears to result from a small release on my part.

To many of you, this is probably obvious, but I seem to be a bit of a dunce with social things sometimes. Making phone calls can be difficult. Nowadays, it’s easier and easier, and I love the people around me more and more. But I can still get down and start feeling that everyone gets much more attention than me or that no one ever thinks of me like I think of them. Because of the newfound connectedness in my life (and a few enlightening pearls of wisdom from my mother), I now see that everyone feels that way at times.

So, when I started feeling less loved than everyone else in the world this weekend, I reminded myself that there are probably other people in my life feeling unloved now, too. So I called one. Who knows if she was feeling unloved at the time, but she definitely wanted to talk. And I am incredibly grateful for that. We ended up going out and having a good time. And today, well, let’s just say I’m feeling the love—and also feeling incredibly productive. I have accomplished a lot today!

Turns out, I already had the love I wanted, but it took giving some away to see it. Plus, I gained even more. Hooray for the principle of giving what you want to get.

Happy giving!

Note: This idea apparently applies to almost everything else, too. If you want respect, give it. If you want time, give it. If you want enthusiasm, give it. If you want dedication, loyalty, structure, cleanliness, hugs, or support, give some away. All you need is already yours. Now, we get to the work of truly believing that…

Help? How Dare You!?

I get angry when people offer me help. I can cry all day long for someone to come help me, but that doesn’t stop me from instinctively shoving the help away when it finally comes. This pattern has truly been a conundrum for me throughout the past few years. I’ll take a look at it, work on it a bit, get distracted, and then be reminded of it much later. Well, a few recent instances have alerted me to how my natural tendency to push help away has inhibited me in many aspects of life.

To fully uproot this issue, I will need to look into family of origin issues and many things from my past, but here, I would like to discuss a few possible reasons for my seemingly insane reaction to the kindness of others.

Number one, I perceive an offering of help as an implication of my own inadequacy. The questions that flood my mind go something like this: “Why would I need help with this? Why do you think I need help? Do you think I’m not capable or responsible?”

Most of the time, I do actually need help. Yes, many tasks would be easier if I would allow someone to assist me. However, something in me never wants to be weak. I want to prove to the world that I can make it on my own when, in reality, no one makes it alone.

Secondly, if someone offers help, I think, “Does he believe he is better than me? Does she think I’m stupid? I need to prove everyone wrong. I can do this! How dare you insinuate otherwise?”

Obviously, some people know more about certain things than others. Many tasks simply require more than one person to accomplish them, and observant people recognize this and are willing to help. It’s pretty arrogant of me to assert that I can accomplish the impossible alone.

Other times, when people come and offer help, I wonder if I have accidentally revealed my vulnerability. I panic and try to figure out how a person was able to see that I was struggling or needed help. I like to think I’m good at putting on masks and pretending everything is fine. When I am proven that my façade is not quite as opaque as I’d hoped, I feel I’ve failed and immediately try to assert that I don't need a thing. I desperately want whoever has seen through me to go away. "Don't remind me of my weakness!" I cry.

I would like to change my thinking. It’s okay to fail at pretending to be strong. It’s okay for people to see through my veneer. The true me is strong but also needs help.

A final issue I have with the helpers of the world: I don’t want to be told that something is wrong with me. Something in me believes that if I need help, there must be something off, something that needs fixing, about me. I want to be accepted and loved just as I am, and if someone offers help, I construe that to mean that they don’t love me as I am. And all I really want is to be loved exactly as I am. If I think that someone does not accept me, I determine to drive them away.

In recent years, I have discovered that peace is not a static place; it’s an ever-shifting journey. Extremes naturally pull at each other and create tension inside. This is the universal process of homeostasis. I am always SEEKING it. The work is never done; I will never reach a completely blank place. Peace is feeling the tension and knowing that it is okay. Therefore, I am learning to accept all sides of me – light and dark, confused and focused, kind and malicious, trusting and skeptical, happy and sad.

Not everyone understands that both parts can exist simultaneously. When those people offer advice, they are trying to fix something that does not need to be fixed. I loathe it when I admit to feeling sad, and listeners insist on providing dozens of ways to be happy (as if I haven't already thought of them) rather than just allowing me to be sad and feeling that sadness with me.

Regardless of the less emotionally intelligent among us, some people are honestly trying to help, not fix me. Those individuals love me and just want to make life a little easier. What’s so bad about that? I regret that I have rejected such offerings. Does every moment have to be hard to have meaning? No. Life is meant to be lived in community, however much or little of it I need at any given time. I enjoy helping others. Why balk when the same outpouring of love is offered to me?

In any case, these notions have yet to be fully explored. A lot of ideas live within this single issue. For now, though, I’m recognizing that I don’t want to be told that I’m “messed up” and need fixing. Because of that deeply entrenched desire, I need to take a little time to pause when people offer assistance so that I can appreciate moments when I do need help and fully love those souls who want to give it.

Despite my continual prayers for superpowers, I am not Superwoman. I’m still holding out hope for the power of flight, though…

A Blog in Parts

What if I systematically removed person after person from my life? What if I chose not to associate with one person at a time, until the only one left was me? Could I then eliminate myself?

I wouldn't choose that. I sometimes fear that I'll choose it, but the true Michelle never would. She reaches out and loves but also retreats into a quiet space at times. I'll let the universe choose the ebb and flow of people in my life.

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I want to live inside music. Nowhere else feels safe in the same way. The outside world melts away, and everything I do is permissible -- glorious even.

Perhaps the truth is that I already do live inside music. I come alive in my music. When I share it with others, I hope they can see a little bit of what I am like fully alive, fully free, liberated, and happy. Alone, I enjoy; I curl up in comfort. I regain something every time I lose myself in a song.

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I would also like to live inside a giant pile of clothes fresh from the dryer... if it were possible to breathe inside the mound ;)

A New Project: Sharing Emotions...without thinking them away

I miss the boat. It takes me quite a while to connect with people, and I always feel that I miss numerous chances to take relationships to that infamous “next level.” Up to now, I have blazed a trail of mostly shallow friendships that I don’t discover are shallow until well after I assume I’ve opened up and connected “adequately.” Luckily, at this point, I am better able to gauge the true depths of my friendships and enjoy a few truly wonderful, strong connections. For the longest time, however, I remained puzzled as to why so many of my relationships stayed on the surface, leaving me unsatisfied.

Well, a revolution this week has enlightened my situation somewhat: I don’t admit my vulnerability. Of course, I am a strong woman who can care for herself, but that does not mean I am without needs and desires that I would rather not fulfill on my own. I need help so much of the time. I feel alone. I feel afraid. I feel confused. I long to be really known and to know others. Can others sense this about me? Do I ever admit to any of that?

I have been doing so well with feeling my emotions, and I’m even better at working through them, rationalizing them in a positive way. I, in a sense, “therapize” myself. I work through my feelings and learn from them. Nonetheless, something has been missing in my emotional journey.

I tend to express the emotion to myself, crying for hours or beating up pillows in anger. But rarely do I ever tell anyone about what happened. It’s hard to imagine that I would call someone and admit to sobbing for half a day. By that time, I’ve usually already “worked through” the issue and disregard the need to share my raw emotion with someone else.

In the same vein, I hesitate or don’t even think to call someone and ask for help when I’m just at the beginning of feeling something difficult. I devalue working on my emotions with someone. I devalue the mere expression of emotion in front of someone’s face, talking about the honest emotion I’m having without mitigating it with all the reasons or explanations I’ve already come up with.

I realized I was missing this crucial step of expression to others when I pinpointed a deep desire. Many times, I simply want people to let me feel feelings. I don’t want the feelings “fixed,” and I don’t want them ignored. I just want to be allowed to feel. And I long for someone to see me emoting and allow it. Despite this desire, I almost never get to the point of sharing an emotion without quickly following my share up with my nice, neat therapized package. I don’t want to overwhelm anyone with negativity. Life is fun and positive! Shouldn’t I ensure that the positive spin takes center stage rather than the darkness of my original feeling?

No. The explanations and background surrounding my emotions are valuable, but not at the expense of giving the feeling itself credence. By hiding the depth of what I’m feeling, I miss out on a connection with the world I’m meant to have.

By not admitting my frailty, I separate myself. I think I want that separation, that it makes me strong. And for whatever reason, I think that once I’ve worked through a feeling, it’s a sign of weakness to return to it in its raw form to share my experience with another person.

Well, time to stop this. I am deciding t make a concerted effort to share more of the difficult feelings I have with others and to abandon my fear of being seen as weak. Someone who feels things as deeply as I do cannot be weak. But I am human. And I want others to know that. It’s difficult to feel connection with a “perfect” or “invincible” person, and I try to come off as both of those things, despite the fact that I am neither.

I treasure it when someone is willing to share with me a true emotional moment. I am impressed and honored when someone entrusts me with their true feelings, without explaining them away.

This new way of working with feelings and other people will take a while, but it will be worth the journey. I’ve already begun experimenting with this, resulting in some embarrassment, but also incredibly revelatory moments with others and a deeper sense of connection. Ultimately, this exercise is simply an extension of me not covering anything up and being authentic wherever I am. No need to perform… unless I’m playing on stage ;)

Deeper Connectedness

I like seeing different parts of who I am. I like seeing different parts of other people. People are endless mysteries, labyrinths whose depths have yet to be fully explored. Ten lifetimes probably aren't enough to scope the vastness of the soul.

I like giving people a chance. I like asking people odd questions and noting their responses. Each new day opens up new channels of discovery. When I spend more time with a person, I usually find more and more things to like, more similarities, and more interesting differences.

I've long been uninterested in knowing only people who seem "like me" because, in the end, everyone is both like me and unlike me. The first things I see about a person may disguise untold-of connections between us. I like the intricacies within that framework. I'm interested in how we form connections with people and how we deepen those bonds.

Sometimes, however, it's difficult to find other people willing to explore those depths with me. I think that almost everyone would profess to want to get to know their friends in deeper ways, but when certain inner areas are probed, many people jerk back, afraid, or they leap forward and put on a show, pretending to reveal in an attempt to cover the truth. I'm searching for more people willing to honestly probe the depths and do their best to be thoroughly authentic.

I'm slower to cut people out of my life now, too. I am noting snap judgments when I make them but not necessarily moving out of the friendship because of those initial sentiments. Often, my resistance stems from an insecurity within myself, although sometimes resistance is an intuitive force that should be given credence.

All this to say that I am learning to be open to all kinds of people and to be brave enough to open up and seek openness from anyone who presents him or herself as willing to reciprocate. I am uncovering treasures EVERYWHERE, in everyone, even the most unlikely. I hope to continue this journey.

Following this mindset has strengthened my family relationships and enhanced the other connections in my life. I am becoming more and more curious about people.

One concern remains, though: I pray that my naturally inquisitive nature doesn't prevent me from opening up myself. I hope to give at the rate I receive. My tendency to play the observer can separate me from others in that, while I may feel more connected to them, they feel a distance from me. I hope to truly be authentic and honest about myself and lay aside the mediator or investigator hat from time to time.

People are amazing. Pity that I can forget that, run into fear, and then hide within myself occasionally. Although those hidden times are valuable, moments when I reach out and act on a willingness to be involved with other people take me to new heights. Inter-relational life is so new to me! I want to uncover all the riches within the people I know and love.

Thanks to all those who have reached out to me. The first step is the hardest for me to make, but once I take a couple of steps toward connecting with someone, I'll run with it. Thank you to those who know I need that initial push.