Scheduled Smiles

Posted on by stilllearning2b
smiles

It’s all too easy to believe that happiness is fixed. Unchangeable. Set in place by internal or external factors that feel beyond our control.

We may not control all of the strings on the marionette of our lives, but we do have the ability to manipulate the ones that produce a grin.

And all it takes is a calendar. Some intention. And some follow through.

Studies consistently show that our happiness increases when we are anticipating a trip or other exciting, planned event. We experience this. We revel in its gleeful power and, then, we all too often face a symmetrical slump on the far side of the vacation.

I used to see this pattern – up echoed by down – as inevitable.

Until my divorce.

He left days before an anticipated trip to the coast. That trip was my motivator and smile generator all summer.

And then it disappeared, a mirage replaced by hell.

For those first several weeks, I simply struggled to survive. Any smiles were spontaneous, fleeting whispers of joy teasing my lips.

One night, I opened a calendar. The only entries were for legal proceedings and work related deadlines. I knew I was looking at a tough year ahead and the calendar certainly confirmed it.

And then I got angry. I felt like he stole the one little vacation from my year.

Yet I was the one that had allowed him to erase all of the entries of happiness.

Over the next few weeks, I got busy.

I started with the big things – scheduling a trip to San Antonio over Christmas and to Seattle over spring break. I also planned one more big-ticket item – a 3 day meditation and yoga retreat for that fall.

My wallet was empty at that point, but my heart felt a little more full as I saw those plans printed on the page.

But I wasn’t done.

I penciled in hikes for weekends that should have good weather. I looked up festivals and wrote them down. I visited the websites of local bands and marked down their concert dates. I followed with release dates for books and movies and museum openings. I researched gluten free friendly restaurants and marked them down on the page as well. No event was too small.

Related: Goal Post

The timing of some of the events was dictated by necessity, but others I intentionally placed just before or after events I was dreading.

Sometimes, we chaff at the idea of having to schedule pleasantries. Think of the advice for busy couples to schedule a regular date night or regular sex. We feel like we shouldn’t have to plan it, that it should just happen.

But then we get busy.

And it doesn’t happen.

If it’s important, plan it.

Of course, I still enjoyed the unexpected smiles. I made a commitment that year to say yes to every invitation, to every query of, “Do you want to…?” I loved those spontaneous smiles. They created some of my best memories. But they lack the guiding power of anticipation.

Even though I am no longer in hell, I still make sure my calendar is heavy with scheduled smiles. Instead of feeling let down at the end of the wedding week, I am looking forward to meeting a blog buddy for the first time, going to see Lewis Black, an annual Octoberfest weekend with friends and an upcoming visit with a childhood friend that I haven’t seen in 15 years. I don’t have time to be morose.

My life used to be cluttered with to-do lists. Notations of what tasks needed to be accomplished and what responsibilities needed tending.

They’re still there. After all, stuff still needs to get done.

But now, I make sure that two more important lists are more prominent:

The gratitude list that reminds me of all that I have to be thankful for (I love that I had to shrink the font on this one to get it to fit on the page!) and

The calendar that lists the upcoming smiles.

And that makes me happy:)

My challenge to you today – open up that calendar. Find a week with nothing fun planned and find something to add that you can anticipate. Bonus points if it also involves bringing anticipation to another.

And then enjoy the little happiness boost that comes from scheduling a smile.

 

 

 

It Doesn’t Matter How You Got Here

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Wow.

What a week.

The wedding was simple, personal and beautiful.

The weather cooperated.

The venue cooperated.

The dog did not. He seemed to have trouble understanding the concept of standing still on a woodland path. Instead of turning his gaze towards the camera, he kept looking wistfully at the trail. That’s okay’ we love him anyway:)

We ended up getting married beside a mossy creek on the Ely’s Mill property at the base of the Roaring Forks Loop. It was a magical location, even better than the original – locked up tight behind the national park shutdowns- site.

Change can be good.

We enjoyed a few quiet and scheduleless days in a cabin outside Gatlinburg.

And then we came home and celebrated. A roving and riotous party that spanned from afternoon until morning. Our home, “our” restaurant and finally, “our” downtown filled with the smiles and laughter of our friends. What an amazing night. What a precious gift.

 

I usually take about four naps in the span of a year.

Yesterday, I took two.

I could have used another today.

 

 

I have so many thoughts scratching at the inside of my head, begging to be written. But only one is fighting through the fatigue tonight:

 

The actual ceremony consisted of pretty traditional vows and was led by a pastor that we only met minutes before. I don’t know if he looked at the marriage license and chose his words based upon our not-exactly-super-young ages (36 and 40) or my prior marriage, but one sentence he shared hit us both hard.

“It doesn’t matter how you got here; what matters is here and now.”

He’s right.

And, I’m happy to say, that it is more than just words to me now. I felt at complete peace with my past the entire week. Random memories popped up on occasion (more to do with Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge than wedding stuff), but they passed through easily with no emotion.

I was married before.

It doesn’t matter.

I was left behind.

It doesn’t matter.

I was betrayed.

It doesn’t matter.

None of those things have any bearing on today if I choose not to let them have any bearing on today.

What matters is here and now.

 

When I was unpacking and sorting after the trip, I came across three prescription bottles. They contained the leftovers of the medications that I took that first year to help me sleep and eat and function. I started weaning myself off the medications the day after the divorce and haven’t taken any in well over three years.

But I held onto the remaining pills for all this time.

What if I couldn’t sleep again? What if my appetite vanished again? What if the fear and the pain and the anxiety crippled me again?

Much of the time, I forgot that I even had the vials. But, when I would happen across them, I would always hesitate and then place them back in their bin. I wasn’t ready.

But last week, when I recognized those orange bottles even though the labels had faded to white, I did not hesitate.

I released them.

They are relics of my past.

And they don’t matter.

What matters is here and now.

 

On a totally random side note that gave me a bit of a chuckle, for those of you who wonder how someone can commit bigamy (Getting Away With Bigamy), it’s still pretty easy. I carried an original copy of my divorce decree into the courthouse, thinking I would need it. Nope, I just needed to give them the date the divorce was final. Pretty scary. Kinda makes you wonder how common it actually is…

 

 

 

 

 

I Leave You With…

Posted on by stilllearning2b

The wedding is just a few short days away.

We won’t be stopped by the government shutdown (even though we have had to create a backup plan to the original national park location). Nor will tropical storm Karen put a damper on our plans even if she makes us damp (here’s the one time I’m not happy about wedding dresses being white!).

As we all know, those are little things, speed bumps, but not stop signs.

We have been through much more stringent challenges to get here.

And now we’re ready.

I’m ready.

photo-75

I tried on my dress the other night for the first time since I bought it a year ago. The sight made the upcoming marriage feel real. Tangible. I looked at my reflection and reflected on the last time I wore white, 14 years ago. I am no longer that woman. I am more awake, mindful of all that is. I am more aware of both the good and the potential for pain. I am more grateful for everything after losing everything. And, dare I say it, I am more excited. My first marriage felt like the inevitable conclusion to a good relationship. This marriage feels like a hard-won victory after years of facing struggle. The triumph of love over loss. Trust over betrayal. And peace over pain.

And that’s something to celebrate.

And celebrate I shall. I will be taking a hiatus from the blog and its associated platforms for the next week or so. I want to focus on my new husband. My family. And my friends.

And maybe even sneak in a nap:)

I want to spend a week celebrating where I am with no thought as to how I got here.

Even though this is certainly a case where the ends justify the means.

Love Doesn't End

I’m not locking the door of the blog; please feel free to poke around and maybe even stay for awhile. There are well over 600 hundred posts here, so there’s no need to get bored:)

Please keep commenting and sharing. I’ll pick up when I get back.

But I also want to leave you with something.

Hope.

Hope that no matter how bad the pain is now, it can get better.

Hope that no matter how much you have lost, you can regain even more.

Hope that no matter how piercing the betrayal, you can learn how to trust again.

Hope that breaks heal and make you stronger than before.

Hope that you can build a new family and a new life.

Hope that you are not damaged beyond repair and that you can love and be loved.

Hope that you can be happy. Really and truly happy.

your story

Your happy ending may look different than mine.

But picture the happy ending you want. The finish line that says you’ve completed your divorce journey.

And then walk towards it. One step at a time.

See you all soon:)

Lisa

photo-66

Hamstrung

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I have runner’s legs.

That’s not necessarily a good thing.

My hamstrings, hips and IT bands are perpetually tight, pulled taut from a combination of balled muscle and stuck fascia. Not only does it hinder my ability to touch my toes, it also leads to biomechanical issues and pain, especially as I get older.

Prior to this fall and its associated craziness, I was making good progress on my legs. I had committed to 30 minutes or more of yoga daily, with an emphasis on loosening the lower body. I was looser. Freer. My body learned to work together as the binds began to unravel.

And then the move happened.

And yoga didn’t.

So now I have runner’s legs.

And mover’s back.

The tension spread when I wasn’t watching, migrating up from the hips, along the spine to settle between the shoulder blades and around the neck.

It’s all connected. I turn my head to the side and I feel the pull all the way down to my hip.

So back to yoga I go.

Hamstring work has always been a challenge for me. They resist. They struggle. When we engage in a battle of wills, they always win.

The harder I push, the more they grip, the golgi bodies responding out of fear to protect the delicate tendons beneath.

There are tricks in hamstring work, techniques to encourage the muscle to relax and lengthen.

These same tricks work for our minds.

Much like the golgi bodies buried within our muscles send signals to protect the surrounding tissue from overstretching, our minds respond to too much pressure by sending out panic signals that encourage gripping. Holding on to whatever is causing the pain.

Constriction.

Status quo.

We can stay there or we can learn how to outsmart those signals and encourage letting go.

Breathe

Any effective hamstring work has to start with the breath. When your breath is restricted, tight, your body receives a signal to hold on. To everything. When the breath is full and complete, the body and mind relax and feel safe releasing a bit more with each exhale, trusting that the next inhale will come. Everything is connected. You can soften your hamstrings or calm your mind with nothing more than a few moments of mindful breath.

Face, But Don’t Force

When I first started doing yoga, I couldn’t find the right balance to use. I would either back off in difficult poses, afraid of facing the pain or I would meet it head on and engage in a game of chicken.

Neither works.

In order to let go of the pain, you have to face it. Acknowledge it. Greet it. But greet it gently. Just like you don’t respond well to a stranger running up to you, your discomfort won’t like a harsh welcome.

It will hide.

Instead, recognize it. Accept that it is there in whatever form it takes today. And then allow it to soften.

Be Patient

My hamstrings and I have a different perception of time. To me, a few seconds in a forward fold is plenty. To my legs, however, that’s just the first note of an entire concert. I’ve had to learn to operate on their schedule in order to see any progress.

Even when that means holding a single pose for 10+ minutes.

It’s amazing what the mind will kick up when I’m holding a pose.

It throws up excuses.

Reasons to hold onto the pain.

The trick is not to listen.

And breathe.

Releasing mental anguish is no different. We want it to be pulled from our lives in one great swoop, a magician drawing a scarf from a hat.

It takes time. Instead of the magician, picture playing Operation, a steady and careful hand patiently removing each offending piece, careful not to trigger the alarms.

It seems crazy that our minds and bodies want to hold on to what is causing us harm.

But they do.

You see, that’s a known pain. It becomes comfortable.

Whereas letting go risks the unknown.

And that is the scary part.

Consistency

This one hamstrung me this month. I stopped my daily practice and the pain crept back in. It’s subtle, so you don’t notice at first as you acclimate to the ever-increasing amplitude.

Until you do notice.

It’s so easy to think we’re done. Healed. All offending tissues have been softened and all issues resolved. But much as AA teaches that an addict is an addict for life, we are all healers for life.

It’s a daily process to remind ourselves to let go.

That it’s okay to feel suffering and it’s okay to release it.

It’s alright if you forget. Just acknowledge where you are today and breathe.

And begin again.

 

The Bathroom Drawer

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I was giving a tour of the new home.

“And this is Brock’s bathroom.”

“He gets the master bath?” my friend inquired, surprised.

“Yup. In this case, it’s a key to marital bliss. That way my blind self doesn’t trip over his detritus and I don’t wake him up when I get ready at the crack of dawn,” I explained.

She nodded, understanding.

“I am envious of these drawers, though,” my hand already beginning to open one of the six drawers built into the cabinet.

As my arm began to pull, my brain stuttered. I realized that I had no idea at all what was contained within that drawer. I hoped that it was nothing that would be embarrassing to reveal.

Luckily, the drawer only contained the usual bathroom items (along with a couple remnants of the paining work we had done).

But it also contained a lesson for me.

In my old life and my old home, I knew (or, more accurately, thought I knew) what resided behind every closed drawer. I thought I knew everything about my ex husband, that there was no uncharted territory. I believed there were no secrets, even of the unintentional kind.

And so, whenever a drawer (both real and metaphorical) was opened, I saw what I expected to see.

It’s never been that way with Brock. Perhaps because of my background or maybe because we’re coming together in mid-life after living separate lives for many years, he remains at least somewhat mysterious to me. Even though we share stories of our pasts, they are just samples, not the entire spread. Although we share space, we each have out own territory and I don’t feel the need to be an explorer on an expedition to his office.

I don’t think I know what he is going to say.

So I listen.

I don’t have any expectations of what I will see.

So I look.

At first, this felt a bit scary to me. I wondered if I would ever feel like I knew him as well as I knew my ex.

But then I realized, I only thought I knew my ex.

The comfort in that was the wool over my eyes.

I like the dash of mystery.

The reminder that he is Brock before he is my husband.

A reminder to listen. To see.

Rather than assume.

And also a reminder not to open drawers in fron of someone without verifying its contents first:)