The Month of September

Below is a post from September 2016. It is 11 years since our car accident, and this September also proves heavy. This entire month I have been dealing with the decline of my dear father. He has been hospitalized and now in a TCU (transitional care unit). It is why I have not been writing as much here, and why I thought I’d reshare this post. The lesson on love, death, change continues to deepen and unfold.

fall

Once, many years ago, while going through a particularly difficult time I got this idea in my head I would die on September 16 (0f that particular year). I was reminded of this today, September 16, on my walk. Suddenly, I smelled something foul. I looked to my right and there was a dead racoon in the grass. Several steps later, once I arrived in the woods near my house, a dead squirrel on the path. The bodies were still fresh. Was this a sign?

I thought: death is all around us. I remembered all the death that has surrounded my family and myself since December. On December 11, just as my kids and I were about to watch A Christmas Story, my dad called. He was not himself. He said, Mary Lou died. Mary Lou was my step-mother. Then, in January my husband’s last grandmother passed away. It snowed in April when Price died alone in his elevator. June took Uncle Mel and then, his wife, my beloved Aunt on September 6.

September 6 is now shared with September 24, my father’s birthday, when my best friend from Kindergarten died in a car accident when she was only 27 years old. Along with September 11 and September 29. On September 29th, 2011 I was driving my white Toyota Matrix on a Los Angeles freeway. My mother and 11-year old daughter were in the backseat, my 19-year old daughter in the front seat with me. We were listening to Enya and playing the alphabet game. Suddenly, a large truck with glaring headlights was in my rear view mirror. Before I could finish my sentence about what I saw, that large truck hit my car. The car flew and flipped through the air several times until it finally landed on its side. I remember wondering, am I going to die?

car

The Toyota Matrix

I have told and written this story many times, and this year, five years later, I notice the story no longer holds the emotions and trauma it once had.  Now, what seems to be unfolding are the lessons and awakenings from that day that changed everything. Death is all around us.

But, what does this mean exactly? And, is it death or just change? Here’s what is becoming clear for me— life. I think I have been so afraid of death and that impending shoe drop (in my case a tow truck that comes out of nowhere) that life has been cumbersome. I noticed this heaviness after I returned from my aunt’s funeral. Prior to her funeral, I sat with her for four days while she went through the process of death, of change. I had never been this close to the death of another human being or for so long.

flo

Me and Aunt Flo

Before I entered her home, I was afraid of what I might see. But, all my fear went away when she opened her eyes and smiled at me (and my dad and daughter). All I felt was love. I knew I loved her, but those four days I felt my love for her. I was able to tell her she mattered. This experience is invaluable to me now.  But there is a physical, mental and emotional price, at least for me, when going through something like this. That price felt heavy. It felt exhausted. It felt sad.

After the car accident, I carried heavy, exhausted and sad for nearly 5 years.

I feel lighter now. Life is becoming more clear, but not because I have figured anything out. But because I’m not taking it all so seriously and maybe because the desire to live life finally outweighs the fear of living life. I am moving, once again, toward curiosity, beauty, wonder and listening. Listening, as I did on my walk today, that I needed to get grounded. This looked like me stopping in the middle of the forest doing tree pose and volcano breath. This means committing to creating a life that will match my desire to stay in harmony with my higher self and nature, and not the day-to-day grind of this current culture.

I also intend to move more toward what my aunt taught me—love. And, believe me, I am a newbie to love. It’s always been inside of me, but it’s the emotion or state of being that I resist the most. At the least, it makes me feel awkward. At the most, it frightens me as if I might be swallowed by it. But, while my aunt was in  hospice I had a new experience with love. As I stroked her hair, held her hand and kissed her forehead as I said goodbye and I love you, love comforted me.

Love is a comfort, not a burden I need to protect myself from. So yes, death, the unexpected, change surrounds us—not to stop us or scare us or burden us, although it can, but to notice it, wonder about it, learn from it and let it guide us to more clarity of life, comfort of love and truth of being.

The Soul Reporter

Devotion

What’s underneath this madness? Devotion?

I cant see a future without him now that I’m standing at our death door. It was fun to play with the idea of leaving when I was still in a familiar hallway.

Now I am numb again. Familiar only to my pain, and not ours.

But it will return.

Rumi says, keep digging your well, water is there somewhere.

Is it devotion?

~Nikki, The Soul Reporter

Coveted

I feel coveted and
sometimes admired, but nothing else, 
never held. 

I also don't hold, just space and frequencies, 
probably, also responsibilities
but not hands or faces or 
give hugs and kisses. 

I've a lot to learn 
A lot to give
A lot to receive. 


~Nikki, The Soul Reporter
Photo by Raphael Brasileiro on Pexels.com

Tell Me Everything

A poem.

Tell me how much you love him

Tell me how much you want to leave him

Tell me how he hurts you

Tell me how he loves you

Tell me why you’re afraid to stay

Tell me why you’re afraid to leave

Tell me why you fear you’ve been replaced

Tell me what you still want with him

Tell me how hard this has been

Tell me how this love affair began

Tell me how he holds you back

Tell me how he lets you drown

Tell me how you hold yourself back

Tell me how you let yourself drown

Tell me how you suffer

Tell me everything until there’s nothing left to tell

Tell me everything so we both understand and can move on.

~Nikki, The Soul Reporter

Fear of Adults

Did adults teach love or fear?

A few mornings ago, a deeply rooted fear approached the surface of my awareness— it may be a major source of my anxiety— the fear of adults.

Adults— these taller, authoritative and not always welcoming figures who literally, and often figuratively, look down on us when we are small. I guess it is one reason why it has been weird to be one and why, in many cases, especially in parenting, I got it wrong.

Who taught me to adult, and how was I taught?

I tried QNRT (Quantum Neuro Reset Therapy) recently and the practitioner asked— what happened between ages 9-11? Searching, mostly I came up blank, as though this entire span of my life I blacked out. However, what I do recall, an image that also came up in an EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) therapy session: little me is standing in line outside Ms. Odegard’s 3rd grade classroom. This image of my small self, being towered over by Odegard, folds inside of itself head first, as if choosing at that moment to go some place no one else would see me— EVER. Odegard was a mean, witchy-looking woman (more witch of the west, not south). She scared me, and away, inside myself, I went and stayed. Early experiences of bullying only solidified my existence there, with the added compounding affect of: I’m ugly and weird. I’m too much and I bother people just by being me. But it wasn’t me— I mean maybe the vulnerability of me likely made me a target, but it was also what I wore.

My mom gave love through buying me expensive things. She didn’t have a lot of money, just credit and expensive taste. Let’s just say I was the first person in 6th grade to have Guess jeans— the infamous triangle on the back pocket I exposed by keeping one part of my shirt tucked in at the back. Every bullying event was around something I wore from the barrettes that were pulled out of my hair and stomped on by dirty blonde-haired Allison, to the pink hat that matched an entire pink outfit that was snatched off my head by Jessica. The next day she gave it back to me in a brown paper bag. My hat was in the bag and a big clump of dog shit was in my hat.

Said pink hat and the outfit to match

I easily learned it is not okay to “show off— ” as if that is what I was doing. I was wearing what I had and loving it, until that happened.

I understand that these stories aren’t about the scary adults, but about mean kids, likely acting out because of the scary adults in their lives. Which brings me back to them, and what they mean to us when we are little.

The source of (pretty much) everything is in these young, developing years, and all around us are adults, these taller people that are supposed to know more than we do. So, we listen to them. We watch everything they do and because we are so spongy during this time we absorb a lot. In a way, we absorb them.

We can absorb their unprocessed and unregulated emotions. We can absorb the actions, behaviors and words that are done and told to us. Therefore, depending on what we are absorbing, we can believe that we are good, bad, worthy or unworthy, not enough or too much….And we can learn patterns of behaviors and thought that protect us and then as adults, harm us.

When there is a problem, there is not something to do, there is something to know.

Dr. Raymond Charles Barker

Many seem to be returning to this childhood time, realizing this is the source of the pain, the repetitive and protective patterns and habits, the suffering. Once understood, which is a process, the more pure, real parts of ourselves can risk showing up and we welcome in a new experience of adulthood. One where, instead of feeling tight and constricted within ourselves, we feel more spacious and free. It is from this spaciousness that we present as an adult that won’t scare and shame away the smaller people.

❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

Thanks for showing up,

~Nikki, The Soul Reporter

A throw back

My husband just airdropped this to me. Turns out in 2012 I used to write posts like this, and share them to subscribers. The reminder makes me wonder why I don’t really write anymore and that makes me sad. So since I’ve no new material, here’s something old and still relevant.

What is it in you that attracted you to (fill in the blank)- for me it was a guy.

The Volk, Fall 2019

I don’t feel comfortable being away from him. Like now, we are apart. I’m waiting for him to call so I know what I am doing. That’s sick. I’m sick. I’m fucking angry as hell at myself. I just want to say fuck it and learn to be happy with myself. But then again, I want to work this relationship out. Everything I am doing; I’m just hurting myself. It’s gonna take so much to get out of where I’m at.

Personal Journal Entry, June 1990, 18 y/0

This person I was in a relationship with punched me in the chest and knocked the wind out of me. I don’t recall what I did immediately after this, but I know I stayed with him for a while longer. I also remember telling my dad he hit me. I wanted my Italian father to pretend “he knew some people” and go after him. But instead, my dad asked me this: what is it in you that attracted you to him? 

This is not what I wanted to hear. However, his question changed everything for me. It took the focus off the abuser and onto me, where at some level, felt I deserved it. Now, I know this isn’t popular and some may see it as blaming the victim. Further, I am not here to say that my situation is like all others. Mine is mine and my father’s question helped me to begin a journey that allowed me to explore what I bring to a relationship. When we take responsibility for our part in all of our experiences, we have the opportunity to understand and grow from what we learn about ourselves. 

The words of my 18-year-old self were right on: It’s gonna take so much to get out of where I’m at. It has been almost 30 years since I wrote that sentence, and just this past year I finally feel like I am out. Although this one article cannot hold what I experienced and learned about myself these past 30 years, here are a few lessons I’d like to summarize: 

  • The root of psychological suffering in relationships is unworthiness. 

According to Melody Beattie, who wrote the book Codependent No More, said “..our low self-worth or self-hatred is tied into all aspects of our codependency.” I am not a huge fan of labels, but I would consider myself a codependent who is in recovery. Melody’s definition of a codependent is: “…one who has let another person’s behavior affect him or her, and is obsessed with controlling that person’s behavior.” 

We often try and control who and what we fear and what we don’t understand. We can spend years, and sadly, our entire lives, doing this. I learned that my controlling behaviors were both a sign and a symptom of something deeper happening within me and served as a distraction from going deeper. The deeper issue I was avoiding was my feeling and belief about being unworthy. An experience of unworthiness is quite common and often originates from childhood neglect and trauma. 

  • Relationships are a vehicle to help us grow. 

I posed this question on social media recently: Is it true we must leave certain relationships in order to grow? Or is that we use this more than we should because our discomfort about facing ourselves and our own dysfunction in a relationship scares us? 

My answer is: both are true. According to the Imago Relationship Therapy model, developed by Dr. Harville Hendrix and Dr. Helen LaKelly Hunt, we attract partners who carry psychological and emotional patterns from our childhoods. As we move deeper into relationships, these patterns are exposed, and often erupt. The relationship dynamic itself is a vehicle in which we have the opportunity to uncover, and therefore understand and heal from our childhood traumas. Therefore, it is important to investigate the reasons for leaving a relationship that makes us uncomfortable or we may find the same kind of relationship, only with a different face. Also note, I am not at all saying, in the case of an abusive relationship, we stay in order to learn and grow. This article does not address the specifics and dynamics of domestic violence. 

  • The fear is emptiness. The gift is self-love. 

When they are away, it is the emptiness I feel.  It is this emptiness that makes me do crazy things and act in crazy ways.  It is this emptiness I must embrace, but I am afraid to be with it, to be with myself. I don’t want to use them to fill the emptiness that is within me. I need to fill that myself so I can be secure within myself. 

Personal Journal Entry, July 1990

The emptiness many of us fear is an unknown experience for most of us, yet we fear it anyway.  Why else do we fill ourselves up with information, activities, noise and addictions of all sorts. There are two experiences of emptiness I have found: one that we run from and resist and one where we finally settle into it and find everything we are looking for. 

When I was younger and working through my codependency, I feared I was only my dysfunction and scarier, who would I be without it? Empty. Nothing. But this is far from true. The gift we receive from self-discovery and understanding is self-love. We begin little by little to be self-contained and self-reliant. We seek what fulfills us from a greater sense of self-value and clarity, and a foundation is built on worth, not unworthiness. 

I would love to hear your thoughts, questions, struggles and experiences in relationships. If you’d like to expand and deepen understanding here are a list of resources: 

  • Codependent No More by Melody Beattie
  • ImagoRelationships.org
  • Codependents Anonymous, CoDa.org

My Toxic Relationship with Trump

I made a mistake, and I’m probably not alone. I paid too much attention to Trump. It was fun to laugh at him. I was proud to get on my soapbox about him. And, if I needed a drama/adrenaline boost I could count on him to push my buttons. He was a captivating character who made me curious and also terrified. No matter how I tried I could not wrap my head around how this man got as far as he did on a campaign the pretty much divided many groups of people by making them feel like the “other” that they already felt so well.

My mistake in one way makes sense. It is a reasonable response for those of us who care about our country to pay attention to the candidates. But, Trump was no regular candidate as most of us know, and what really captured my attention was something far more unconscious and yet, oh, so familiar. I was entering into another toxic relationship with someone who is emotionally unavailable.

In order to discover this I had to endure the crushing blow of our break up last night and not for the reasons you might think. As I sat down for the long election night the anxiety set in. Florida. Florida. Florida. I needed some licorice to chew on. I wished I could knit. I wanted to go back to smoking cigarettes. I was not emotionally regulated. Then California was called and Hillary took the lead. I could breathe. No longer did I wish to knit and eat licorice.

Then Florida was called. He won it, and it looked like he would win many other key states. I imploded and when I go on emotional overload, I shut down— all the way down. Now I was numb. Numbness helped me take the final blow when Hill conceded. Then, the fear hit like a five-ton truck. Goodbye women’s right to choose. Goodbye Planned Parenthood. Goodbye Universal Health Care and Free college tuition. Goodbye Earth. Goodbye rainbow lit white house. Goodbye diversity in politics. All of what is progress going, going, gone. If this weren’t enough, then fear showed me the violence that could come upon my multi-racial family.

Three hours of sleep later, I was resigned. Bitter. Depressed. But, Hillary spoke and then spoke right to me and my daughter as we both sat there and listened. She opened up my woman soul and it hurt. It hurt so bad. I felt slammed by the patriarchal structure. Then Wolf Blitzer went in for the kill and said, “Hillary Clinton: Very, very emotional speech. You saw her holding back, choking back those tears. She is, uh, well known for being very, very emotional at these kinds of moments. Clearly, a sad moment for her.” I grieved. Why don’t we understand and care for the female soul?

So, now what?

For one, I have broken up with Trump, officially. I have decided I will not watch the inauguration. I will not watch any state of the union. I have deleted my news apps. I will turn down the volume when I hear his voice on the radio or turn the channel when I see his face. I won’t add President in front of his name. And, I won’t worry about my patriotism in regard to any of these choices.

Here’s what I also won’t do anymore because of these actions— take care of him emotionally or be his moral center. Why did I take this on?  Because I sensed he had no emotional IQ or moral center so I assumed the role as many women do and made up for it within my own self. I became his moral center. I took on his lack of emotional depth and fed him mine, even if it was hate and anger. Trump didn’t care what emotion I gave him because he fed off it. It invigorated him. Considering the results we know it wasn’t just my energy and emotion that invigorated him. Many of us gave him our energy and emotion and right now it is all he has. Without it, he fades into the darkness. We, my women, and I’m sure men, have kept him in the light. And, this is extremely unhealthy for us and essentially for him.

We do this with our fathers as young girls. We do this with our husbands as young women. We do this with our children, I am sure especially our sons, but I can’t truly speak to that because I have daughters. We take care of the emotions people can’t take care of for themselves. We give morals and character, even if we just hope for it or bitch about it, to people that don’t seem to have them. It’s deep.

I kept our union going by resisting his ways. By bitching about his lack of emotional depth. By feeling hate and anger for him and fear of him. And, here’s what made this union even more toxic— the man is unstable. He is unpredictable. He is insecure. Oh, what hell for women when we find this in a partner. What hell for a nation when we elect this kind of president. But, it could not be helped. DT is “their” Barack. He’s their change master, the Savior. And, we know how powerful that is.

But guess what’s going to happen, in my opinion? His people are going to abandon him, just like I feel I did, and probably countless others did, to Barack once we elected him. I went to bed on those two election nights with a smile on my face and a happy tear in my eye and woke up the next morning and did my safe, secure life.

Trump will also be abandoned by many others who didn’t want him as the president, who like me won’t give him that title. The big T will be left all alone. Alone with everything and everyone that is our nation and he will do this alone with not only little, to no experience in our political establishment, but also without sound character, emotional stability and mental fortitude. Holy. Friggin.’ Cow. At least Barack, where he lacked in experience, he more than made up for with character, stability, fortitude and a healthy dose of grace and cool.

I am grateful, though, that I invested in this relationship with Trump. It has changed me for the better. It has made me care more for the poorly called “others” that were brutally brought to attention by his campaign. It has clarified what I really want for our nation, for our earth. And, it has brought me back to a core learning: never emotionally engage with an unstable, unpredictable, insensitive, insecure person.

If any of you are feeling “crazy” consider you did what I did. Consider you made it your job to give him what he doesn’t have. Consider you protected him emotionally by giving him your emotions. Consider you got too emotionally involved and attached. It happens to the best of us. In fact, I think it only happens to the best of us because we want so much for people and we expect so much from ourselves. Now expect yourself to get free of it, and not just with Trump, but in any or all relationships where this is occurring.

We too easily become emotional surrogates for others, often without knowing. It will and does drag us down. I think many of us became Trump’s emotional surrogates. I really do. We took care of what he couldn’t. Now, let’s not do it for him as President. He wanted this and now like good old tough love (and right now I use the word love lightly) it’s time to let him go and see what he can do with the power and the shoes he wanted to fill. There’s no excuse with a Republican majority.

Now, we can breathe better. We have space in our souls. We aren’t taking this on anymore. We can self-care and start to heal and mend. As we feel stronger we will get back to the business at hand, whatever that is for us and what we care about. As long as we remember we are not here to take care of anyone emotionally. We are not here to protect grown people from their lack of character and integrity. We are here to do our part, run our race. We get back to our core, our center because this helps everyone, even those inept emotionally. And when we lose perspective and get drained by this news and whatever is to come, we might step outside and look at the stars or feel the sun on our face and know we are a part of something larger than what goes on down here. As much as what happens here matters, its a blip on the totality of what is the Universe. When we touch back down to earth and then to our country, in this case, the United States, and we realize this presidential decision did in fact happen, we can realize it is a part of a larger framework that we are a part of, but that we don’t fully control.

The only thing we are in charge of is our mind. This is our domain, and responsibility to do the upkeep inside this domain is ours alone. We must work to keep it as clean and clear as possible and this is NOT an easy task. But, the rewards are plentiful. A clear mind is an open mind and we need this now. An open mind gives a clear pathway to our heart and we crave this connection now. With this connection we see with both heart and mind and come to understand this is the only protection we need, especially from forming toxic, unhealthy relationships. And we need protection now.

A clean, clear, open mind and an awakened heart is our only direction, and we need direction now— so let’s get moving.

Nikki.

 

You Belong. You Exist.

You belong. You exist.

This is important to say. You belong. You exist. Exist means: to have actual being.

Very often we don’t receive these messages as children. You belong. You exist. The yearning to belong and exist is deep, deep within us. I might argue this yearning creates everything we have experienced in our lives so far. There comes a point, if we are reaching for it, where we realize we actually do belong, we do exist. This occurrence happens even if our experiences have shown us the opposite.

I just had this experience. I was listening to Day 5 of Deepak & Oprah’s 21-Day Meditation, Experiencing, Creating Peace from the Inside Out. Oprah said, “If it is intimacy and connection you resist, it is love you crave most.” This struck a chord and is a theme that’s been surfacing lately.

Moving into the meditation, the centering thought for Day 5 was, I only feel a need to connect. Instead of closing my eyes as I normally would, I looked up at a picture of me, probably 4 or 5 years of age, sitting at on a chair at my grandmother’s house. I’m wearing light bluish-green pants, a dark blue-green turtle neck and what look like Buster Brown shoes. My hands are folded in my lap, my shoulders are hunched over and my head is slightly tilted to the side. My eyes are bright, yet distant, I have a soft smile and I envy my thick, wavy hair. I think: this little girl only feels a need to connect.

I cannot hold back what’s inside of me. Pain and hurt for the yearning of this little girl. I began to speak to her. You are not rejected. You aren’t rejectable. You are sacred. You are connected. You are loved. You are safe.

I cried throughout the meditation and continued to speak to her. I imagined myself holding her to my heart, giving her a kiss on that thick, wavy head of hair. After the meditation I picked up the framed picture and kissed her face and held her image to my chest and said, “You belong. You exist.”

The word exist felt like truth ringing inside of my being. I made the connection to my pattern of hiding to this fear I don’t exist. I keep this pattern going by continuing to hide. But, now, I know~

littlenikkiI do belong. I do exist. I don’t need to hide anymore.

I look at her now, and smile.

Namaste,

The Soul Reporter

Seeking the Warmth

image

Today was a sad and contemplative day. It was also a little stressful. My computer was acting funny so instead of doing homework as planned I went to the Mac store. Fortunatley my old 2007 is still going to get me through for a while. I had my bike in the car so I went to a lake, but I couldn’t yank my bike from the back.  I was getting pissed, which means I am going to break something and make it worse. Instead I took a deep breath and took off the front wheel. When I finally got it out of the car and the wheel back on my anticipated quiet ride was infilatrated by something that went clickety, click from somemthing I probably broke.

Six miles of clickety-click I put the bike back in my car. I grabbed the blanket from my backseat and walked to a massive tree by the lake. I stretched out my blanket, bunched up my sweatshirt for a pillow, put my hands on my belly and moved my face toward the soon-to-be-setting sun. And there it was— something familiar—warmth. In the warmth of the sun, my body cooled. Whatever I was irritated by calmed. What I’d been angry about vanished. But, there were tears. This warmth I was feeling— I determined is love.

There was a man and his dog sitting on the bench nearby. I didn’t pay him too much attention until he got up and started walking toward me. At first I was uncomfortable. I would have rather been left alone. But, he stopped and asked, “Are you doing alright,” as if we were old, dear friends. I didn’t answer truthfully, of course. I said, “Yes, I’m doing alright.” He replied, “Well unfortnatley for me my bike tire is flat.” I empathized and we agreed on what a beautiful day it was (despite his flat tire and my tears). Then, he was gone. My previous tears turned to sobs. I sat there until it passed.

When I get home, after I dinner I opened up to where I left off in Glennon Doyle Melton’s book, Love Warrior. She is talking about drinking whiskey. She says, “The whiskey warmth starts in my mouth, travels down my throat, pools in my belly, and now my insides are also wrapped in a blanket, hushed, quieted, rocked gently to sleep.” I realize I had the very same experience as Glennon, but not with whiskey, with the sun, and that man. How often does someone ask us geunuinely, are we alright? I think we are all seeking the warmth.

I recall all the warm spots I have found. I found it with my dad as a kid when I’d stay at his house and drink warm tea and sit down next to the big heater that blew out warm air. I found it snuggling up to my husband on a cold, winter’s night. I found it when my dad rubbed my temples when I was young girl with a headache. I found it in the smiling eyes of my aunt when I walked through her front door. I found it in books. I even found it with my mother (who I often don’t feel nutured by) when I was sick and she snuggled me up in a blanket on the couch and handed me her famous pb & j with the big chunks of butter. I found it at the sunny spot by the lake. I found it in the question of a stranger.

Once I find it my insides are quieted. My mind is calm. I know I am loved. I am restored.

The Soul Reporter