Tag: self love

My Path of Healing

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When did I stop saying that I was in self improvement mode? Self improvement gradually morphed into self growth mode, then has now transformed into a path of healing.

To say that we’re on a path of healing acknowledges that there first has to be something broken, something ill, something not well. It’s an act of vulnerability indicating we are not perfect and we are seeking to repair and recover ourselves to become whole again.

It’s a recognition that something happened to me and a recognition that as an outcome of what happened, that I am not expressing my true Self.

How do I know? I see it in the hesitation and the perseverating of decisions, in feelings of guilt when I choose to help myself before I help others, the stifled feelings in my chest when I do things to help my mother at the expense of taking care of myself.

I tend to dismiss the impact of traumatic events that have happened to me, dismissing them as being merely difficult, equalizing my experience as being common with everyone else’s experience, as though it means very little even to me. In effect, I minimize my life by doing this, making it small before it can get big, making it disappear before I can even make impression. It is as though I half expect someone else to want to do that to me, to judge me and my life as inconsequential. So before anyone else can judge me, I take myself out of the running. I default before I even fail. The problem of course is that I also take away the potential of ever succeeding.

Happy Galentine’s Day

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That’s what my sister toasted to me on Valentine’s Day. That was the first time, I’ve heard of that rewording. Truth be told, I kept thinking she was garbling her words as she repeated it to me. But I like it. I wonder if there’s a male equivalent, “Guylentine’s” though I highly doubt it. Galentine’s Day is more about showing love and appreciation for gal pals, besties, sisters in life, ourselves. I don’t see guys gathering doing pedicures and manicures and drinking champagne like my sister and I did last year. But then again a night of self care and bonding in a guy’s world might be hanging out to play board games, drinking beer, and having it labeled as simply a guy’s night out.

It’s been a long time since I haven’t been partnered up or not dating anyone on Valentine’s Day. It feels slightly foreign to me.

During the afternoon, I walked around Oakland passing pedestrians carrying bouquets or boxes of flowers to be delivered to their beloved. Arizmendi’s special Valentines’ pastries were almost sold out by noon. I triumphantly managed to score one of the last. Floral shops were buzzing with energy as customers flocked around the grand masters as they did their artistry with flowers. Driving through Berkeley, seeing young kids (ok, they were probably college kids) with bouquets in hand, tugged at my heart. Somehow their youth made it seem especially poignant and sweet, that they cared or hadn’t yet become cynical about love.

But then Valentine’s Day isn’t just about romantic love, it’s also about extending platonic love and affection to our friends and even our family. We knew this in elementary school as we passed Valentine cards to each other, among boys and girls alike. It was all very democratic in a way, and I remember doing an inventory at the end of the school day counting my Valentine cards and my candy hearts like I did at Halloween after treat or treating. It was fun and lighthearted. Yet somehow as adults our view of Valentine’s Day has narrowed as we grew older and our capacity to share love beyond our intimate relationships seemed to have gotten smaller and smaller. Similar to other holidays that have been commercialized like Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, Valentine’s seems to have its own niche audience. Most attention is directed towards romantic partners and lovers and there is little space for singles. No wonder, we lose sight of the most neglected love of all on this holiday – self love.

As Oscar Wilde once said, “To love oneself is the beginning of a life long romance.” How we love ourselves is how we teach others to love us – gently with loving kindness, compassion, and without judgement. For some of us, it’s innate. For others like me, it takes a lot of unlearning to start learning the right way. This year, I embraced Galentine’s Day and bought flowers for myself and I got exactly what I wanted. That was kind of an awesome feeling.

2023 – New Year, New Start

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Jan 3, 2023

A year has flown by. After my mom fell in June of 2022, time seem to pass in spurts marked by a new challenge presenting itself almost every day, except that they weren’t actually new. They were long standing conflicts, resentment and bitterness buried in shallow graves only to be unearthed by the slightest unsettling of the status quo. It was my mom’s fall that started everything, brought everyone back, brought siblings talking to each other again.

We had a plan for our mother, believing that the best situation for her and for her children was to place her in a home. She of course had other plans. Every step towards our plan was thwarted. For someone who is as physically impaired as my mother, my mother does an impressive job of maintaining her agency. She is still making her own decisions, whether or not it benefits the rest of us, be damned.

You have to respect my mom. She’s a survivor. She’s got resilience. She has determination. But just because I respect her doesn’t mean I have to be an active participant in her life. She can make decisions about her life and I will make decisions about mine.

This year will be about me. Does that sound self centered? I certainly hope so.

Being happy

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To be happy, to enjoy life does not mean that our lives is free of troubles. In fact, it is in knowing grief and sadness, that I’ve come to have a deeper understanding of the meaning of happiness.

As an adult, being happy is an intentional act of bravery. We are trusting ourselves to make the correct choice for ourselves and for others. It means that we must choose ourselves first, we must decide that our life is worthy of taking care of, worthy of nurturing, worthy of loving. When we decide that we are important, we decide where to focus our attention and manage our energy.

The words self care is in the vernacular a lot these days since the pandemic started. Having spent time during the pandemic, mostly in seclusion and sometimes with a select few, our “pod”, managing the energy in our relationships to each other, and to ourselves has become more intentional. How we make ourselves available or not to others has become weighty decisions usually made after much consideration.

For me, I’m a natural introvert. I enjoy getting to know people individually or in small groups and chatting with strangers is not unusual for me but spending time at parties where I know few is where I feel most ill at ease. The pandemic gave me a reprieve from being socially awkward by giving me a socially acceptable justification for declining invitations to gatherings. I didn’t have to feel guilty for saying no, didn’t have to feel like I disappointed anyone. Most importantly, it gave me a reason to not make my monthly trips down to see my mother. It provided me space from my mother that I didn’t know I even needed.

The idea of giving ourselves love and care took me while to get used to. Initially, it seemed self centered and even selfish to take time and care for myself. I grew up taking care of my siblings and my mother and somehow along the way, I came to expect myself to do it. I took on responsibilities that no other siblings took and I came to think that it was my responsibility to compensate for the lack of that I perceived from my siblings. As time went on, my siblings were happy to relinquish their involvement to me and my mom reinforced my behavior boosting me to a favored position in the family hierarchy. And now many years later, I realize how backward I’ve been when I thought I was so smart. I wasn’t smart. I was just feeling righteous and judging others for taking care of themselves.

I had no idea what I wanted. I just followed my mom and anyone who had a stronger voice. I was a people pleaser to the max. It was a lot easier than figuring out what I wanted but over time, this wore away my spirit. I began to feel something was lacking but I couldn’t figure out what. But luckily, along the way, I started deciphering what I knew what I didn’t want. I knew I didn’t want to be in the shadow of my partner – I wanted to shine in my own light. I knew that I would be unhappy having a life that was centered around taking care of my mom, knew I was unhappy being verbally abused by her. I was finally able to name it for what it was rather than rationalize her treatment of me was acceptable.

I am learning to cultivate a loving relationship with myself, being kind to myself when I fail, giving myself grace when I unwittingly hurt others, holding myself to the highest ideals, knowing that I am committed to being a work in progress and forgiving myself for being imperfect.

I realized that others only treated me the same way I was treating myself. I never expected anything more than what I received.

Each one of us must make a choice as to whether our life is worth living, a life that follows our values, one that we believe in. Life is too short to live someone else’s dreams or to delay living my own dreams because someone thinks that they don’t follow their agenda.

Being happy happens when my values and my actions align and I know by my gut feelings when I’m off the path. The beauty is in paying attention.

The Practical Side of Caring for Aging Parents

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It’s a horrible and terribly mundane title of this entry.

I once read a story of family of four who lost three members in the span of minutes. A dog ran into the surf at the beach. The young boy ran into the water to save it and was swept away by the current. The horrified father and mother, seeing their youngest child drowning ran into the water to save him. They too were pulled away by the same riptide. The oldest child, their teenage daughter watched from shore and was the only one who survived.

The dog chose to run into the surf. The young boy chose to run to save it. The parents chose to jump in to save their son. All choices that ultimately resulted in their deaths and all deaths were preventable.

I’m the daughter standing ashore seeing how there is something in the water that her family members can’t control. I’m not getting into the water and testing whether I have the wherewithal to handle a force of nature.

My mother is that current. I entered the water with the best of intentions to “save” her. I found myself sucked into the vortex that is beyond normal human control and with the last vestiges of my rational mind, suddenly find myself trying to save myself.

I give up. I can say that now. I tried. I tried really hard, not just since my mom fell but for most of my life to be there for my mom and my siblings.

And I got confused and nearly lost myself.

I’m throwing money at the problem now. I’m stepping away. My mom is better cared for by strangers, strangers who don’t have their own history of emotional and mental abuse, strangers who will feel pity and tolerance for her overbearing and manipulative ways. To best care for her is to remove myself from the position of receiving abuse at the hands of my mom and her agent. I’ve always known it. It’s why I moved away. It’s why I chose such a reliable and trustworthy partner to create my own safe space. My mom is not safe for me. Not sure if she ever was.

And my karmic debt to my mother? Paid in full.

My Filial Piety

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What exactly is my perspective on filial piety? In short, I no longer believe in it. I believed in it before I understood the true nature of my mom, before I fully believed in myself.

I think it’s an archaic idea and serves only the parents. Dogma works when people mindlessly live their lives without a sense of consequence for their actions. Everyone needs a moral code to live by and some will follow what has come before them and adopt it without challenging the ideas while others, the minority, work at a model that fits them, that makes sense, that they have thoughtfully decided with conviction and intention.

When I am aging and no longer able to care for myself, perhaps there will be someone to take me in and care for me. I would hope that they do it out of love and not a sense of duty. Guilt only takes you so far before one is buried in resentment and bitterness. I would not want my loved one to live their life that way. But love, love will take you beyond what is physically capable. Love is the activity of the source, the divine energy of nature. And when you can no longer make decisions out of love, it is time to look at alternatives.

If there is no one to take me in, I hope I have the means to take care of myself, preferably in my own home enjoying my own company and those of others if I so chose. And if I no longer have the means to take care of myself, I would prefer my life end peacefully rather be a burden to others. If I forget this resolution, I hope someone would remind me to read these words of my younger self.