yeah, i admit it.

May 19, 2008

I miss weed.

 

I admit, about 4 years ago, I was a serious pot-head.  A college graduate, a waitress, a creative person, and a pot head.

I felt more creative when I was high.  I felt so relaxed and invincible when I was high.  Sure I had some paranoia on occasion, and when I was sad, weed made that sadness even stronger.  But it was great.  Listening and playing music was great.  Reading books and watching movies was great.

I miss it.

 

I do realize however, it was a total crutch and I smoked weed to escape from dealing with things.
Perhaps being such an avid pot-head for so many years in a row has left me with little practice in dealing with emotions and memories.  The last 4 years without weed has been hard.  Many times I find myself wishing to escape to my sanctuary of a couple of tokes and a trippy movie like “A Bug’s Life”  (which by the way, if you smoke weed, you should check that one out- their eyes and skin texture is what got me)…

I felt more alive, and more connected to my spiritual self.

Yoga is helping me with that, though it seems to be much more subtle and harder to achieve than smoking and taking a hike in nature.  But it seems like it’s healthier, and my lungs are happier, and I am much more clear headed when the session is over, unlike the lethargic fuzzy mind after smoking too much pot.

 

Why did I stop, you say?  It was getting to the point where it didnt feel that great to smoke.  I felt burnt out, dead to the world, tired of hiding it, tired of not answering the phone when I was high, or answering the phone and acting all weird and freaked out trying to sound normal, tired of unsure drug tests at work, tired of not really wanting to do anything at all. 

Other than that, it was great.       Ha…

 

Just needed to vent, I think my day job would be so interesting if I were high.

 

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un-zen

May 14, 2008

I took another yoga class last night, another spine opening relaxing, restorative class.

Much like last week, last night’s class was inner-peace inducing glory.

I did not, however, have such a strong vision.  Why, you ask?  Was I unable to calm the chatter in my head?  Was I thinking about what I would blog about today as I avoid any action that would minutely be classified as work?

Nope.  

I did learn one thing though, and that is to not position myself so close to the bathroom door.  When someone in your class has un-zen digestion issues and repeatedly gets up during class and walks to the restroom door (talking 4 or 5 times in the hour) and walks back to their mat in a wake of distracting (foul) aromas, it is the hardest thing to concentrate on your breath – not what your breath is breathing, but the breath itself.

I realize meditation takes practice, and distractions will come at you like flies to poop, but this one threw me for a loop.  

Luckily it didn’t linger too long, and wafted to the other side of the room, yogis passing out in it’s trail.
The only thing to keep me from spiritual bliss and the world of distractions was myself…

…and the guy behind me with itchy feet.  shwoo shwoo shwoo

what the-?

shwoo shwoo shwoo

scratch scratch scratch

The light that had begun to trickle down the top of my head suddenly gave way to imagining Itchy Foot Guy scratching his hairy feet, rubbing them on the carpet, scratching them again, rubbing them against each other.

**shudder**

 

yoga is good

May 7, 2008

 

Last night I went to my yoga class to calm both my mind and lower back.

Nice relaxing restorative yoga class,
Oh how I love thee.

The final pose, Savasana, is where you lay flat on your back, with your knees bent and supported by blankets. We then go into a meditative state and concentrate on how different our body feels from the beginning of class, and concentrate on breathing.

Here is where I went:

I could feel light coming down on my face from above, even with my eyes closed. Slowly lifting my head, I opened my eyes and found myself in a carved red rock cave (see picture) all alone, quiet. I felt a presence there, something/someone larger than I, yet part of me as well. As I looked up into the light, feeling it cascade around my shoulders and down my arms, I felt calm (calm and complete).

I wished that feeling would last forever.

 

 

I also wish I could take that yoga class every evening.  If only the day was longer, yoga was cheaper, and closer to my home.

 

 

one of those days

May 5, 2008

I started my day really not wanting to get up.

But I did.

And now I am crying and doubting I will ever be able to make it working on my own.
I don’t think I will ever be able to not work for someone else, or be happy at a job.

Hell, I’m not even happy working on my own, with my own clients.

There is a sinking sensation in my center, right where my yoga instructor had me concentrate.  Right where I felt confident and peaceful for a moment.  

Now it is sinking, and I just don’t want to be here.

 

Sometimes I just want to die. 

 

I am sore

April 28, 2008

Namaste!

 

So I took my first yoga class last night.

It was a mellow class to “open up the spine”

I must admit I felt 2 inches taller after class, and the throbbing in my back was significantly decreased.

Mentally too, it was good.  I feel less depressed today, and the pain in my muscles makes me feel like I did something constructive.
I was a little uncomfortable at first, it being my first class, not knowing anyone, learning something completely new.  The instructor went around in a circle and asked about our body concerns and current events.  Most people talked about their lower back, upper back etc.  When it came to my turn, I just blurted out that my back went out 2 weeks ago.  I felt stupid because I started out class with a total lie.  What was the reasoning for that?  Sure my back has been bothering me for a couple of weeks, but it certainly has not gone out, not since last year.  Did I want sympathy?  Extra attention?  shock value? 

Dont know.

 But class went on, even with my Karma reducing lie that may or may not have been discovered by the instructor.  (it did still stick in my mind throughout class, and still does today) 

I signed up for a 10 class deal (so I guess I have to go back 9 times) and I can tell my back really needs it.

Today,  I am sore.  Muscles I never knew  existed have been stretched and tested and now they protest.  I was probably the least flexable in class, a little discerning when I was the only one sitting vertical when everyone else bends over their legs and touches their forheads to their knees.  

I suppose we all have to start somewhere…

 

need?

April 24, 2008

So I heard back yesterday from “jo” at samaritans.org and it got me thinking (forgive me if I go WAY off on tangents…)

Definately was good to write all the stuff that was bothering me in an email and send it off to some stranger who is halfway across the world.  It was a bit releasing, like writing in this blog, but even more so.

The weird part was the response/questions I received back.  They seems a bit robotic at first.  Like the stereotypical  psychologist response: “and how does that make you feel”

Not having gone to therapy sessions, I guess I was just not used to this turn around and come back on me.  What did I expect?  I guess part of me expected the person to say that everything was going to be okay, that the best thing for me is to stick with what I am doing, go to my yoga classes, be thankful for what I have, yadda yadda yadda…

But I guess not.  So I wrote back, trying to answer the questions they came back with, and trying to be honest with myself.  One issue that came up:

My mother
(cue dramatic music here)

In writing to “Jo” I realized that I don’t have the support of my mom.  She loves me, yes. She wants me to succeed, but I think because she never took chances in life, (and I have, unsuccessfully at times) she doesn’t think that doing things outside the box will turn out ok.  Like my freelance work- HUGE for me to be out there like this- super insecure about myself and my work, and well, my last 2 clients hate me!  One won’t even return my emails.  This is not a good boost to my confidence, and makes that little mom voice in my head say, “you should settle down as a secretary at a large secure company and start a long career”

um… no. Even if the idea of being a secretary didn’t make me want to find sharp objects and hurl them in the air over my head, things don’t work like that, like the way they did in the 50’s, where you find a job, work hard, maybe become manager, work at that same company with yearly raises, bonuses until your 65, then retire with a fat pension and take the motorhome around the country for a few years until you end up on your recliner complaining about the nonsense Judge Wapner has to put up with.

Things just don’t work like that, and well, even if they did, I don’t think I would make it at a job like that til 65.  I would snap, and someone would get hurt.

So exposing myself and risking loosing my pride/sanity/hopes/whatlittleconfidanceididhave for doing some freelance work was so risky for me, and terrified me, and I haven’t gone forward with my self promotion stuff/business cards yet because these last two clients (who where undecided in what they wanted and big pains in the arse) are freaking me out.

 What if I can’t do this?

Am I going to burst out crying in frustration and be all pissed off everytime I work on a project?

Am I going to go to bed sobbing every night because I can’t do what people want me to do for their project?  Is this going to ruin my relationship with my BF?

AARGH

so, to get back onto the subject of samaritans.org, they did respond to my response, and are asking some provocative questions that are very useful in untangling the webs in my brain.  One question that has been rattling around in my head since I read it is ” do you really need your mom’s support for this”

wow.  I feel like I don’t have her support, and always felt like I wanted it, but do I really need it?
I need to think about that one for a bit.  (do I need it to succeed?  do I reaaaally need it?)

 

I suggest, even if you aren’t suicidal (which I don’t think I really am, but could picture myself being in the future…) if you just need some anonymous outsider comments that could help you figure things out, give them a try, email is so much easier than calling (at least for me)

Heck, you could even email me (or leave a comment) and we could share our woes and support each other…

 

(did that seem like a pathetic attempt to find friendship?)