My boyfriend, a martial artist, posted this on his Facebook the other day:
BJJ (Brazilian Ju Jitsu) has taught me something very valuable lately about life. If you do not like the position that you are in then MOVE YOU and stop trying to move your opponent. You can not deal with that lock or choke by pushing your opponent away. You have to get your *** out of the way.
So, if you are not happy with your life then change what you are doing and stop worrying about changing what others in your life are doing to you. Only you can decide what your life will be.
My teacher was the end of my marriage; his is the mat. But, many of the lessons are the same.
These lessons are everywhere if we are willing to see them with open eyes, approach them with an open mind, and embrace them with an open heart.
You make me happy. I used to say those words to my husband on a frequent basis. At that time, if you had asked me what I meant by those four words, I would would have replied that I was saying that I loved him and that I was happy being with him. I meant those words as a compliment, an endearment, an expression of love.
I don’t use those words anymore.
Let me be clear, I am very happy in my current relationship. But he doesn’t make me happy; rather, I am happy with him. Slight change in words, but a huge shift in meaning.
I began to realize that by telling him that he made me happy, I was putting all of the responsibility for my own well-being on his shoulders. That is a huge burden to carry and one that was unfair to him. I had given him the power to make me happy. Which means he also had the power to make me unhappy.
If I had left that power in his hands, he would have packed up my happiness with the rest of his belongings when he walked out the door. I snatched it back from him, determined to find a way to regain ownership of my well-being.
I now take responsibility for my own happiness. I can choose how I respond and how I approach. I can choose to be happy with or happy in spite of. That is my responsibility.
What? You didn’t think that my ruminations on my monkey mind were going away just because I completed the 28 day challenge, did you? Of course not; this monkey demands attention and gets ornery if he’s ignored for too long.
First, a disclaimer: No monkeys were harmed or experimented on in the making of this post. You can go ahead and back off now, PETA.
When I undertook this meditation challenge, I was most concerned about staying with daily practice. In the past, I had slid out of the habit faster than my work clothes at the end of a hard day. But, that hasn’t been the case on the go-round. I dutifully meditate every day for at least a few focused minutes. I do it without thinking. It has become habit.
Get it?
For some reason, this bothers me a bit. Maybe I’m overthinking this (totally possible given my analytical nature), but it seems like I should be mindful about mindfulness. Intentional. For a time, I was experimenting with different guided meditations, various chants, and assorted music. I did walking meditations and silent meditations. I feel like I’ve turned it over to autopilot recently. I tend to go for the same chant generated by the same app, plug in the same headphones, lie on the same spot, and just go.
Is this good? I am practicing, after all. I can’t help but feel like I’m slighting my monkey; however. If I don’t actively pursue different options and continue to read about meditation, am I stunting my monkey’s growth? Or, by reading and studying, am I distracting myself from what is really important; focusing too much on the “doing” rather than “being”? Maybe my discomfort with the status quo is arising from the fact that I am still learning to BE.
Do you ever feel as though you are stuck in an endless loop, replaying your past a la Groundhog Day, in your mind? It is all too easy to become stuck on a mental Möbius strip, an endless loop with only side. In this pattern, you are revisiting the past, perhaps assigning blame or experiencing guilt, but achieving no outcomes, no benefits. We play the “what if” game as if we are living within a choose your own adventure novel where we can simply go back and choose another path to follow.
How do we get off the never-ending ride of the Möbius mind? The first step is to recognize that you are stuck on an endless feedback loop, acknowledge your mental playback. Next, look at your patterns; where are you focusing? What triggers your thoughts? What events are central to this repeat performance? The reason this replays in your mind is that you have not yet gone deep enough into your feelings surrounding the event. You have not learned the lessons central to the story, so your mind is replaying it again and again hoping that the repetition will allow you to learn. Yes, the mind is a relentless teacher.
Go where it is uncomfortable. Acknowledge your responsibility. Your pain. Your shame. Your anger. Your fear. Learn from it. And then let it go. When you face the emotions triggered by the past head-on and then release them, you will find that your Möbius strip unravels and allows you to move on and continue your adventure.
When I first felt the raw, unwashed trauma of my divorce, I would direct anger and indignation towards anyone who blithely told me that time heals all wounds. How foolish they must be, I thought. They must have never been through any challenges. How could the mere rotation of a clock hand soften the shock and pain of being utterly betrayed from the inside out? I scoffed at the notion.
Luckily for me, time continued on, ignorant of my harsh view of it.
The changes were so subtle at first, I did not notice them. The improvement from one hour to the next too small to be measured. But it was there nonetheless.
A clock made in Revolutionary France, showing the 10-hour metric clock. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
As time continued its relentless linear path, my pain followed suit in an inverse relationship, although in a much more randomized pattern. I became accustomed to the things causing my discomfort, and so I was not as aware of them. The pain, once so alien, became familiar and no longer needed attention. Anniversaries came and went and I survived. I layered memories, replacing painful ones with fresher happier ones. The hardest times occurred with diminishing frequency and lessening intensity.
I still dismiss the notion that time will heal all wounds; time is no surgeon, ready to excise the malignant past. However, time does dull the knife’s edge of past traumas, lessening their ability to cause that searing pain, that sharp intake of breath when the blade pierces your heart. The pain becomes duller, more distant, more manageable. It’s as though its initial razor edge is dulled by time dragging it through the rocks lining the river of life, new experiences whittling away the once-sharp edge.
While waiting for the blade of your trauma to dull, carry lots of bandages and always be wary of the edge.
Lessons From the End of a Marriage 