It's the Little Things, really...

It's the little things, really. Except when it's the big things. The monumental things. Or at least the things that feel monumental. It's the little things like matzo ball soup and warm buttered bread. It's the big things, like that moment when I realize I'm entering new territory, and I'm going to meet the challenge rather than shrink back from it. Little thing: free bread with my soup. Big thing: letting go and trusting what someone says to me. Taking it at face value rather than listening to my emotion mind and letting it dictate my feelings. The quote "I am the master of my fate" comes to mind. It's an interesting feeling. Certainly I'm calm about it now, because there is no immediate crisis, so I'm not desperate for the assistance of loved ones. But I'm enjoying it. I don't know how long it'll last so I need to soak it in. Slowly and mindfully. But in the meantime, I can read over the rest of the passage, and really feel it. It's from Invictus by William Ernest Henley and I have DEFINITELY heard it before, somewhere. I can't remember where. But the words are very familiar.
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/invictus/

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul. 

I like it. I should probably get it framed and put it on my wall somewhere. Speaking of being the captain of my soul, I feel like I'm regaining all sorts of parts of myself. It's silly, because they didn't go anywhere. They were just dormant. But it's like stretching after a loooooong hibernation. What else can I compare it to...
Say you're working a certain part of a muscle. Say you're doing a bicep curl. A standing bicep curl. But instead of starting with your curled fist resting on your leg, you're starting with it waist-level. And for a really long time, say, 10 years, you're curling that 90 degrees. So you go up in weight because you think "hey I got this", and you think you're improving somewhat. Then one day, someone walks over and suggests that you aim for the full range of motion. They say it strengthens the muscle, and you're not using it to the best of its ability. In fact, you're doing the muscle a grave disservice, working it like that. You try it and suddenly your standing bicep curls feel completely different! Unfamiliar. You feel silly doing curls like that but something about it seems right.
That's me with my range of emotions. I cannot express to you how almost traumatic it was for me to experience elation for the first time, again. Seemingly limitless joy. Thrill and excitement that shot through my stomach with butterflies. A level of danger and threat coupled with a surrendering to the need for me to trust my instinct. A sense of gratitude for others in my life that brings a tearful smile to my face. A challenged but unwavering bravery (compared to what it was before) in standing as I am, without covering or shrinking or shying. I know I look awkward experiencing these things. Certainly if someone had a camera trained on me in my car, or in the stall of the ladies room at work (where I have many of my 'aha!' moments), or at my computer at work, they would probably think I had passed gas and it was painful. This hasn't stopped me. If I come across a new emotion, or a new/different level of an emotion, depending on what it is, I face it and look at it curiously, and think "huh. so that's how that feels. interesting." and I nod as if I'm running psychotherapy group for one and I'm the therapist and the one.
Maybe it's because I work with emotions (and trying to understand them and a human's relationship with his/her emotions) for a living. Maybe it's because I have a vagina and that automatically makes emotions a relevant part of my life. Maybe it's because despite the noise around me and in my ears, I'm more in tune with how I'm feeling and how others might be feeling around me, and I feel the need to talk about it. Maybe it's a combo. Who knows. All I know is, on the happy<---->unhappy continuum, I spend most of my time closer to the happy side. I still visit my family with tired eyes and purple half-circles above my cheeks, but I smile underneath that tiredness that's going on with the top half of my face. It's very strange. It never feels forced. I end up keeping happy things to myself instead of keeping sad things to myself. I look forward to things I otherwise would've been too nervous about, with the anxious excitement of treating each "little thing" as a new test or challenge, and so far I have to say, I really like it. I'm learning new things about myself on a somewhat regular basis.
Take for example, working with clients in therapy. I was driving to the diner to do my crisis line shift, and I realized that I view each client's experience/issues/symptoms like a super complex puzzle that they need help figuring out pieces to. In elementary school I was in something called Quest and we would do puzzles. Tangrams, and these puzzles with these boxes and you had to figure out which person and which job based on the clues, etc. I LOVED those things, I was such a sucker for them. I loved that sense of having a place for each piece, and getting it. A sense of accomplishment, and satisfaction that I figured it out. I don't think I felt like a very smart kid growing up, so being able to figure those things out brought about a positive feeling for myself. I've heard people argue that volunteering is selfish, because it's designed often to make the person doing the volunteering feel good about themselves, not just the simple fact of doing good for others. There's a gain. The same can be said for all of the service professions, including mental health counseling. I can honestly say, it makes me feel good when I think I've helped a client of mine work through a particularly difficult somethingorother. I can't say that's the whole reason why I'm doing it, but I'm sure it's one of the things that keeps me going. It can be pretty overwhelming sometimes, so the idea that I'm reinforced by that feeling that I'm doing good probably has validity. Anyway, I digressed. :). One of the reasons why I like doing psychotherapy with clients is because part of my brain approaches each interaction like someone might approach a really difficult crossword puzzle, or a really dense piece of literature. Except it's someone's life, and sometimes they've just come back from a very dark place (or they are still there). So I treat it much more gingerly than a crossword puzzle or a book.
And I get to points like this where I just sit quietly, soaking up my surroundings, which right now happens to be my crisis shift time at the local diner, enjoying the simplicity of the matzo ball soup and bread, while contemplating the gravity of having a second interview yesterday to work part time with individual clients in a capacity that is almost completely new to me. It's pretty amazing. To me anyway.
Whatever it is that you're doing right now, whatever sense is engaged, focus as much of your attention on it as possible. Take a slow, deep breath that fills your belly. Hold it for a few seconds. And slowly let it go.
Hopefully you have or had moments today that you can enjoy. I know I did.
Sleep tight, people.
Love,
Audrey (8-10)