Day 5...I had been hoping to write today about old relationships, burying the hatchet, the impact of how protecting your own hurt can have on others...but I'm going to wait for another day, since the final act didn't commence as expected.
Instead, I'm reminding myself of a few things. I've been sharing the last couple of days here and with friends the calm freedom that's been washing over me after Wednesdays near meltdown. Lo and behold, driving home from feeding the horses this evening, due to not packing either a cleanse or a juice my old friend intense hunger came for a visit...and it wasn't 3 minutes before I was back to the old wheel...but fortunately, before I came home, I realized hunger was with me, for a very good reason, and all I needed to find something to drink. But I mean the good kind! A cleanse or juicing...couldn't help but smile knowing this particular episode lasted minutes vs. hours from Wednesday, but I did remind myself just how easily I can fall right back in to it, and I damn well better be more prudent about having some water nearby. Reminder #1.
The second thought came after a great conversation with a friend of mine. We spent an hour and twenty minutes talking, first about me and this 30 day journey and all the tangents involved, then even better discussing some really cool Landmark Education material...In a nutshell, we covered what it means to create a story. When we're kids, some event (usually one that impacts us greatly, either real or imagined) befalls us...and after the event, in our little 8 or 12 year old mind, we create a story around it...and it comes as a result of trying to protect ourselves. All of us do it, more than once too, and those stories have a huge effect on shaping our personalities growing up...For example, in my case, when I was 10 or so, my parents forgot to organize a baby sitter for me as they were going to a cocktail party...and left me home alone. Not necessarily a big deal, really. But we had been robbed the year before, and seeing as it was the first time home alone at night, I got scared. So like any kid with a pony in the field, I went out and laid on my ponys back waiting for the folks to get home. I was alright actually, except I fell asleep on my ponys back, and woke up to hearing my Dad yelling in the house CHIP CHIP, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!?! My plan to make it back to the house before my folks failed, so when I got to the house, both Mom and Dad were a tad upset...and of course I had to explain where I was, and worst of all, had to confess I was scared. The very thing I wanted to hide. Tears flowed like a flood, and Dad being the kind guy he was in moments of angst and upset decided he'd yell at me for being scared...So naturally, as a result of that night, I had to come up with something in defense of my poor wounded little heart. What did I come up with? Ahh, my clever little mind constructed a story that I simply don't care what you think. And over the years I came to perfect this nice little fantasy of my 10 year old mind, eventually arriving at a place where I firmly believed I really don't give a shit what you think...to this day I still implement my defense mechanism when someone pierces my little 10 year old heart, but what Landmark showed me is that while the story can in fact help you out, can lead you successfully, it is still nothing more than a story...and the downside to the story is how it prevents intimacy with others, most definitely including my Dad. And when you can see it as nothing more than a story I am responsible for, one created 29 years ago, eventually with enough practice you can choose to put it down and not let it run the show. Doesn't mean you're not going to have the impulse to use from time to time, and it certainly doesn't mean the defense mechanism isn't going to kick in from time to time...but if you begin the work of seeing it for what it is, you can begin to choose not to use it. Not caring what others think has been at times a most beneficial part of my makeup; it's allowed me to ride races the way I know they should be ridden despite criticism (and jockeys are always criticized, part of the job description), it's led me to skipping down the street just to make someone laugh, whether with me or at me. It's allowed me to have a lot of freedom. The bummer is just how much intimacy it's cost me over the years. The cost has been hard to quantify, but I know it's been great. And it's a work in progress. I keep trying to see my mind at work, catch my defense mechanism before they can act, apologize for them if I don't catch them til after...believe me, it's a whole lot easier to apologize for a story then it is for what I think is a part of me. Practice practice practice.
Which leads me back to my friend. We talked about this in her life, and I tried to help her deconstruct one of her own stories. Time will tell whether any of it takes root, but she freely admitted giving her plenty to think about, and if nothing else it cemented our friendship being able to spend our time talking about something that really and truly matters. I sit here and know I got to spend an hour and twenty minutes in friendship and intimacy. And I'm grateful. Grateful for trying to help, grateful to have a friend willing to go places not normally visited. Just grateful. I like that.
Maybe more later, but I'm going back to Moon for more water with my buddy Jim, probably more practice of one kind or another...hug the monster, right?