The past few years have been a roller coaster for me. I’ve had to use all the coping skills that I teach people every day to remain grounded and stay in awareness with varied success. It amuses me at times that my clients think I “have it all together.” I am pretty willing to share my weaknesses and mistakes with them, because then I can share my healing. Just like my clients, sometimes I have to be reminded by my supports to use my coping skills and force myself to show up for my self-care activities. There are blips now and then but I have learned to pick myself up and start over.
A common exercise in therapy is to create a safe space in our heads of a place where we feel safe and relaxed. My co-therapist recently used this in a group and I was instantly taken to the spot I sit right now, the porch of my grandparents cabin in the mountains. I was not always aware of the healing qualities of this space but it has always been here for me and is the perfect spot to go to in my head when I need to reset.
When I moved back to Tennessee last year I was feeling courageous, brave and broken all at the same time. I knew I was making a good choice, but it was also a hard one that came with many challenges. I needed time and space to heal but I also needed to support myself and move forward. The desire to curl up in a ball and quit was strong. For the first time in my life I REALLY needed support and help from others, both practically and emotionally.
Because of the work I had done with some amazing teachers (many of them my clients) over the past 3 years I had learned how to ask for help and even more importantly, accept help. For many years I had dealt with a difficult situation in unhealthy ways, mostly by shutting down emotions and being “strong” (see The Landfall Didn’t Get Me Down). As with all maladaptive coping skills there came a day when this didn’t work anymore. I wanted to experience joy again and I found out that when I opened up to positive emotions the negative ones were impossible to ignore anymore. This meant I had to deal with some old problems in new ways.
Being able to take a day trip or weekend up to the mountains and listen to the river, smell the mountain air, cook in my grandmothers kitchen and care take this special place I love has been a great part of my healing.
When I was a teenager I spent a lot of time here sleeping all day and letting my grandmother treat me like a little girl. It was my escape from the overly grown up problems my high school years brought me. Someone recently accused me of being “cool” in high school and I realized that many would see it that way but at the time I was hustling hard to hide my weaknesses and having a safe place to hide probably got me through it.
As a young mother I was able to come and share my childhood with my children here and enjoy watching their lips turn blue in the cold water, their first swim across to “the rock” and when they discovered the crawdaddy’s hiding under the rocks. (There was a lot of fun in that but not much relaxation!)
After my grandmother died there was a time that grief kept me from being able to find peace or joy here. Too many memories and our family struggled a bit to figure out how to manage the care taking of this cabin without the matriarch’s instructions (and in fear of doing it the wrong way.) I missed having a safe place almost as much as I missed her. So I showed up anyway and let it works itself out.
Today, we have found some balance in the care taking and continue to try to find ways for people to use their strengths to pitch in and keep bugs and varmints out, leaks fixed, electricity running and things clean in the middle of the damp woods. We have had to let some things go and let new technology in. I think we have all realized that memories are in our hearts and the most important things are not “things” at all.
Over the past year I have been reminded of how healing this place can be and how it allows my body to relax and my mind to let go of control. (that is once I get the walks swept and the chairs on the beach.) I have come here with friends, family, alone, in quiet and also in celebration. I have cried, smiled, laughed, loved and regenerated. My new trick is to practice mindfulness here both literally and figuratively.
Literally, I spend a bit of time just lying on a raft in the river or on a yoga mat on the front porch paying attention to my breath, the nature around me and letting go. Figuratively I have learned to pay attention to my intentions and do the work or things that “I want to do” not what I think others want or to please others. If I want to sleep late, I sleep late. If I want to cook, I cook. If I want to do a cheesy tourist thing, I do (although this rarely happens.) I have broken a few of my grandmother’s rules and learned to let go of the guilt that comes along with that. I have also chosen to stick to some of my grandmother’s old habits and it brings me comfort. So no dogs in the house – forget it. But, walks swept every morning and dishes done by hand –yes.
I am grateful for the foresight my grandparents had when they first bought this little spot of heaven and for all the time I have had here. I am especially grateful for the ability to recognize all the places, people and things that help me learn to be the person I am.