What I Realized About "What I Really Meant to Say on Facebook"

I realized something the other night, the night of the Super Moon actually. I was thinking about the blog entry I'd recently posted about being sick of assholes and also about how much it sometimes bugs me when people are unresponsive. Please note, these two things don't necessarily go together. I think some people who read my blog thought I might be saying that they do. But they don't. My brother, for example, sometimes takes a week to get back to me, but he is one of the last people on earth I would ever think of as an asshole. I don't even think it's possible for him! I just kind of lumped it all together the other day, so forgive me if that wasn't clear. But back to my realization:

I was thinking about assholes and unresponsiveness. I was thinking about people's bullshit beliefs and excuses, including my own. I was thinking about a lack of being acknowledged. I was thinking about a lack of my words being acknowledged. I was thinking about inconsideration. Ugh, I know this is really about me! And my ego. So why does this stuff bother me so much!?

And suddenly it hit me. Kyle. It all goes back to him. Not just back to me (although ultimately, yes, it does, but let's ignore that for now). It all goes back to that night in the car when he wouldn't listen to me yelling at him to slow down or stop the car. It all goes back to my sense of safety, to my life being threatened and messed with. His lack of hearing me, of acknowledging me, of considering me, of listening to me, of responding to me led directly to that fateful accident that resulted in so much damage. I don't care that there was something wrong with the car too, that the car was, as he put it "unresponsive;" the fact is that he was unresponsive. Plain and simple.

Now, I do recognize that it's not all about that night; it's not really all about Kyle. Surely I've got some childhood issues there around attention (or lack thereof) and/or social rejection. BUT, this thing about Kyle and the car accident felt HUGE! And with it came a sense of lightness, relief, and a curiosity if now I won't get so triggered, if now this unresponsiveness thing won't be a pet peeve. Because it's not like I'm in danger if someone ignores a text message or doesn't reply to an email, right? Right. It's not going to lead to my body being assaulted and violated, right? Right. It's over. I'm safe now.

It's become quite fascinating to me how that night in the car, the experience of the ride itself, of my screams and pleas being ignored, along with the impact itself, the injuries, and all the stuff that was done to me in the hospital has permeated all of these various aspects of my life. I didn't get it before; I didn't understand that this all could be affecting my relationships with people, including with myself. To some extent, I got it. For sure. I even thought I'd worked through most of it. Thought I could just let it go and that I had let most of it go. I thought it was as simple as a choice, an attitude, deprogramming and reprogramming on my own without the help of a professional, but no. Not so plain and simple.

I also didn't want to ask for help. I wanted to believe I didn't need any. But with all of my own self-study and self-inquiry and self-help and bodywork and embodiment practices and this and that and the other thing, I certainly understood and learned and healed a lot, but there were these deeper levels remaining. I was in denial for so many years about the depth and extent of damage; I didn't want to identify as damaged. But I was. Absolutely. Undeniably. I was damaged.  And then I healed, and am still healing.

Shortly after moving to Austin, I realized this pattern of denial and vowed to face the truth even more than ever before. I was sick of the ways in which I'd been an asshole to myself, and I was tired of my own bullshit.

The timing was divine, realizing it was time to go deeper, to uncover some hidden truths, to grieve deeply, to ask for help, and then meeting someone whose opinion I respected and trusted and who suggested EMDR. It's never too late to process unprocessed trauma. And the insights, as well as physiological changes taking place, it's a trip. One I am happy to be on.

And that leads me back to Kyle. I kind of hope he doesn't see this; I cringe at the thought of it actually. But I do tend to think of him as an asshole in general, even though we talked it out years ago and I know he didn't intentionally hurt me, and something like forgiveness was expressed. I can't help it; I still think of him as an asshole; perhaps the EMDR will change that, but perhaps the EMDR is actually what helps me admit to it and be ok with it, to not feel the need to not think of him that way, and to not feel the need to apologize to him or anyone else for what I've written and am still planning to write.

The other side of this coin though is that I also often feel so incredibly grateful to Kyle. Like I'm sitting here glowing, smiling, as I type that, as I think of him. Sometimes I want to call him up and thank him for not listening to me. Sometimes I just wanna hug the guy and laugh over how crazy life is. But sometimes I still wanna give him a little shove and verbally beat him to a pulp. It's a strange gratitude/hate type of thing, something I'm still wrapping my head around. And so perhaps it's premature to express it here. It certainly is an incomplete expression. But one day, in the near future, it will be more completely expressed in one of those books-in-progress of mine.

And that's all I have to say about all of that for now.

© 2013 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

Under the Willow Tree

Most of the following was written last September:

I'm going to miss it here, under the willow tree in my parents' back yard. The sound of the breeze in the leaves. The sound of the waves lapping up against the shore. The bald eagles that sometimes perch nearby. The view of Mt. Rainier, when the clouds aren't hiding it. The sunset.

But let's face it. How many days out of the year is it even this nice here? As nice as it is today? How many days out of the year can I nap outside? Write outside? Spend the majority of the day outside? And not be cold.

With smart wool and blankets, more than you'd think. But that's just the seduction of summer in Seattle trying to lure me back in, before I've even left.

Seven more nights. Or something like that. And then I hit the road. Drive to Austin. Finish out 2012 there, focusing on writing and Sheng Zhen Gong. Maybe stay longer.

The timing's just right. This has been the year for all kinds of dreams coming true. And some of those dreams were conjured up and clarified under this willow tree, or at least nearby it.

Memories of Twiggy come back to me now. She was the Boston Terrier I picked out. Her name was Precious when she first joined the family. But soon we realized we had to change her name. And we changed it to Twiggy because she loved chewing on fallen twigs from the willow tree. Perhaps it's time to release her ashes. They've been in my closet for 10 years. Or more? Yep. Now's the time....

I never did release those ashes. Perhaps I will soon. Funny finding this blog draft now as I'm just a couple of weeks away from visiting this willow tree. And it was memories of lying in the grass beneath it that recently led me to cancel my road trip plans and buy a plane ticket instead. 8 hours rountrip rather than 80 hours means much more time for sprawling out in my parents' back yard. Had a dream last night too about being back there, and about extending my stay into late September. And since my dreams have been known to come true before, I'm curious now about this one. Time will tell; it always does. 

There are so many more little snapshots of memories that come back to me as I sit here now thinking about being "under the willow tree." But I think I'll wait and see what, if any, inspiration comes to write more, while actually under the willow tree next month. 

It's also interesting to see here that I'd thought I'd spend much more time outside by moving to Austin. Not so sure that's been the case, especially this summer. But perhaps more on that another time....



© 2013 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

From Grumpy to Giddy and Happy as a Clam ~ a "Sheng Zhen in Daily Life" Story

the following was written back in May! saved it to edit and, well, time passed....
 
Yesterday morning I woke up grumpy and groggy in my friend's guest room. I hadn't slept well, at least partially because I was feeling disturbed by a couple of interactions between us the previous night. Mostly our time together was great! And I was grateful to have a place to stay instead of driving home so late at night. But a combination of sadness and anger and lack of good sleep was weighing me down in the morning. I didn't really want to have to talk about it, and there was really no good time to talk about it, as by the time I was awake enough to, my friend was rushing off to work.

I, on the other hand, had decided not to rush off to anywhere. I spent some time reading and writing in my journal. Washing dishes, as a meditation of sorts. And while washing the dishes, although I was feeling displeased in many ways, I was also thinking about what was good, what did please me. So I decided to leave a thank you note. A thank you spelled out with those little glass balls that you can put in the bottom of a vase. It was pretty. And then I listed out on a post-it note what I was thankful for, such as the laughter and the food and the bed.

But then I took a step back and felt like although all this was an authentic expression of gratitude, I was creating a false impression since I was also feeling pissed. So I took out another post-it note and expressed this other side of what I was feeling. But what I wrote didn't sit right with me, especially as something to write on a post-it note of all things. So I re-wrote it. And re-wrote it again. And then I went out to my car to go to a Sheng Zhen class.

On my way out, something happened that made me laugh, and when I got in my car, I was thinking about the note I'd just written and how silly the whole thing was-- not just what I'd done but even how upset I'd been. Who cares? And I was thinking about Sheng Zhen, about compassion, Unconditional Love, no worries. I suddenly felt a lightness, this sadness and anger dissipating. So I went back into the house and re-wrote the note again, still feeling compelled to at least acknowledge that I felt a bit pissed off and sad, but without the heaviness or references to why. And then I left.

On my way to class, my mood just kept improving. I stopped off at Central Market and saw a fellow Sheng Zhen practitioner walking down the road. I got out of my car and ran after her to surprise her with a hug. It felt so good, for both of us. And then I went to AOMA. I arrived between classes and went into Master Li's office. He asked me where I was in the morning, since usually I'm there earlier. I told him that I hadn't slept well, and not wanting to get into the details, I just said that I had some problem with a friend too and needed to spend some time reading and journaling and writing my friend a note.

"I was actually having a Sheng Zhen in daily life experience," I said, and when I told him what had happened with writing a note that was really emotionally charged, and then my re-writes, and then the final re-write thanks to Sheng Zhen, he totally lit up.

We continued discussing it, and I won't recount the conversation, but I just started laughing and laughing and couldn't stop. I don't think he'd ever seen me in this state. And he was so excited about this Sheng Zhen in daily life story, saying I should share it in a television interview. And then I said "Now I feel like there's not even any need for the note I left! Maybe I should go back and remove it!" I was sort of joking about going back. But Master Li said, "Yes, go back! It's ok to miss class. Just go."

I sat with the idea for a moment, wondering if that would just be crazy. And if it would be authentic or if I was just high from all the laughter and smiling and being too influenced by Master Li's suggestion. A clear answer didn't arise, so I decided not to question it and to just go. Plus, I was no longer upset at all and knew my friend had a long day and coming home to my note might feel stressful despite the beautiful thank you's accompanying it.

But to my surprise, when I went back to remove the note, my friend had returned home for a lunch break and had already seen it! I still sensed some tension in the air, but not on my part; I was giddy as could be. So I explained why I'd returned, what I'd realized, and then went back to class, laughing all along the way. Happy as a clam. What does that even mean-- happy as a clam?

Just Googled it: "The full phrase is "happy as a clam at high tide." Clams can only be dug up at low tides, so at high tide a clam is safer and secure, so therefore, happy." Interesting.... I'd say that tapping into that happiness at the core leads to feeling safer and more secure, rather than the other way around. But I still like the sound of "happy as a clam," cuz that's what I am. ;)


© 2013 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

What I Really Meant to Say on Facebook

Here's what I really wanted to say in my update:

I'm sick of assholes, and I have no interest in superficial bullshit. I just don't have the time or the tolerance for it. And are people really so overwhelmed and busy these days that they can't take less than 20 seconds to reply to a text or email with a "thnx" or a "yes" or a "no" or a "maybe," or do they just not care? I just don't even understand this phenomenon of a general lack of consideration, lack of responsiveness and lack of communication skills. I've had it. I am fed up.

But since I can't stand it when people bitch and moan in FB status updates-- in fact, when I see someone complaining, I almost always go straight to settings and hide that person from my newsfeed. Do I care about you hating your cold that you've had for 7 days? No. Try asking for some healing vibes or something instead. Do you think saying "I hate this, I hate that" is gonna do any good? No. 

And now I feel like a hypocrite, cuz so far writing this negative bitch and moan blog entry feels pretty damn good. It's true. It does feel good to complain and spew anger and frustration every once in a while. But earlier, I just didn't want to go there. I just couldn't stand the thought of being someone who writes "I'm sick of assholes" as her status update, even though it is absolutely TRUE.

But it's not even what I'd originally planned on. In fact, I was sort of going to praise the assholes of my past. You see, I had sat down at my desk to work on my book, but allowed myself to get sucked into the vortext of Facebook instead. I was just going to take a few minutes to post this picture:

 And I was just gonna comment on that although I like that quote, I don't really believe in should's and if it weren't for all the poor behavior of others (and myself at times), I wouldn't have such juicy stories to write. But then that led me to thinking about assholes and all the tough and painful lessons I've attracted over the years, which eventually led me to thinking about what it is I'd prefer to attract instead.


So? Instead I posted this status update about what I want in my life rather than what I don't want in my life. Although part of being a Truth-seeker and a Truth-teller is facing the shadow and being honest about negativity, I do believe in putting more emphasis on the light and the positivity, both in a public forum and in one's own mind. Words have power. So here's how I turned it around: 

I welcome those who treat themselves and others with kindness, Love, and respect. I welcome those who show up, who do what they say they're going to do, who know how to prioritize, and who know when to say "no" as well as when to say "yes." I welcome those who communicate well with directness and clarity and kindness all at the same time. I welcome those who can handle hearing the Truth as well as speaking it. I welcome those who know and practice the power of forgiveness. I welcome those who face fears and challenges with courage, humility, and grace. I welcome those who strive for authenticity and transparency. I welcome those who have an abundance mentality and are solution-oriented. I welcome those who can be both honest and gentle with themselves and others when not living up to these ideals. I welcome those who, by example as well as through Love and acceptance, help me continue to be one of these people I welcome.

 And although that's all nice and true, and I do believe it will work some necessary magic, right now, after reading that here, the truth is that it actually feels better to just laugh it all off and say, "I'm sick of assholes! And I'm tired of bullshit." 

That's all folks! Peace out.


© 2013 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

Floating in the Pool

Floating in the pool, I think back to last summer in the Bahamas. I shut my eyes and send a message to Coral and Cayla, my dolphin friends. It's not a message of words, just of connection. And then I see them here with me, nudging me with their healing nudges, looking at me with their loving eyes, speaking to me in various ways. I smile.

I open my eyes as I float into the shade, looking up at the tree branches, soaking in the greenery. I need more of this. I've been spending so much time inside these days, both to escape the Texas heat and to focus on my writing. And my healing. And to sleep.

I've been sleeping more than usual during the past few weeks. And staying up later, sleeping in later, napping. Whatever I need, whenever I need it. Totally in my own rhythm. What a luxury. One I can afford due to tragedy, as well as to blessings and generosity. Destiny.

In addition to all that's been coming up through EMDR, processing all that unprocessed trauma from so long ago, the Summer Solstice shined its light on some things that I'd been denying. And I was told that week that I'd pretty much need to be pushed over the edge to grieve what needed to be grieved, and then voila! Pushed I was.

So in addition to doing a ton of writing over the past few weeks, I've also been doing a ton of grieving. Allowing myself to feel some really old stuff coming up so that I can release it. And this requires the time and space to just simply be. To make minimal commitments to others. To just commit to me. To not hold anything in. To let the tears flow. To let the laughter flow. To let the words flow. To write. To work. To play. And then to sleep, and sleep some more. Integrating. Clarifying. Healing.

Word out in the akasha, the cosmos, the aether, is that I was in that car accident for a few reasons. One of those reasons was to be defined, at least temporarily, as "someone who needs to heal." As a teenager, after the accident, that was the last thing I wanted to define myself as. It was the last thing I wanted to admit to. I was in denial. I wanted to focus on the positive. I wanted to be "normal," not someone who needed to heal. Somehow I feared that by seeking certain types of help or healing, it would actually create more problems, as if identifying as "someone who needs to heal" would be the equivalent to saying "there's something wrong with me." And the truth is, there's nothing wrong with me, but there is more healing to do. Or maybe there is "something wrong," but there's nothing wrong with that, and it will get better. And so I'm doing what needs to be done. Letting it out instead of holding it in. Admitting instead of denying. And it actually feels really good. I've never been so happy during what some might call a "depressive" phase.

And I wouldn't say I'm depressed. I'd say I'm finally listening. I'd say I'm finally not getting in my own way. I'd say I'm right on track. For nearly 3 weeks now I've cried at least a little, if not a lot, nearly every day. And it is such a gift! It's a precious, tender, beautiful time for me. Emotional cleansing like never before. Letting go where I am holding. Unfolding where I am folded. Transformation in the works. Looking forward to what's emerging.



© 2013 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

Mopping the Floor

I had a dream I mopped the floor. If only that were enough.

I don't mop. At least not the old fashioned way.

And that's the one definitive "I don't ____" statement I've heard myself make over the years, at least the only one I can think of. And yet it needs to be done.

And as I write "it needs to be done," I realize it only needs to be done because I think it should be done. It also occurs to me that I could hire somebody to do it. But that almost feels like too much work. And a waste of money since it'll only take me 5 to 10 minutes. Perhaps I'll just mop the floor.

I'm house-sitting and promised the place would be cleaner than how they left it. Apparently they don't mop either, or maybe just didn't have time this time. So I thought this would be something nice to do, to surprise them with super clean floors.

So although I don't mop, I went out and bought one. Not the kind that requires a bucket. I absolutely do not do that.

Maybe I just never learned the proper technique, but it always seemed to me I was making the floor dirtier, just pushing around dirty water. So I bought a steam mop instead. It's been lying on the floor by the front door, still in its package, for about 10 days now. I look at it and wonder what my resistance is. Just take it out of the package and mop the fucking floor. I've even used a steam mop before; I know it's easy. But I don't want to do it. Maybe now that I've admitted to that, I will. Maybe tomorrow I'll write about how I either ruined the hardwood floors with this mop, or laughed at myself for putting it off for so long.

I don't really know why I'm writing about this.

Perhaps just to get myself blogging again. Or perhaps because there's something deeper at play here. Something about taking on a task I don't really want to take on? Something about taking on a task I do really want to take on? Something about sometimes just wishing that my dreams or thoughts would manifest just like that, without the necessary effort or discomfort? For example, I've written numerous books in my head, while driving, lying in bed, going for walks. But those books don't really get written unless I sit down and write.  So although this thought this morning about dreaming I mopped and wishing it were enough may not seem important, or worthy of writing about, and may not have any place in a book, taking this time to sit down and write it out is part of my practice of being the writer that I am.  To not evaluate a topic's worth. To not just think about writing. To not just want to be a writer. But to be one. Even if it means posting a seemingly meaningless blog entry about mopping the floor.


© 2013 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.