Time Out, Tune In, Turn On

Balboa Press

Contents

About the Author................................................ixPreface.........................................................xiChapter 1: Am I Normal?.........................................1Chapter 2: Dawning..............................................11Chapter 3: Taking Space.........................................17Chapter 4: Letting Out and Letting Go...........................21Chapter 5: Connecting Within....................................27Chapter 6: Surviving............................................31Chapter 7: Learning, Healing, and Growing.......................49Chapter 8: Versatility..........................................65Chapter 9: Embracing Change.....................................77Heart-of-the-Moment Learning Resource...........................93Chapter 10: Introduction........................................95Chapter 11: Reader's Guide......................................99Chapter 12: `Bean' in the Moment................................117Chapter 13: Breaking Free and Becoming..........................135Chapter 14: From Centre Stage to Background.....................153Chapter 15: Sneaky Source of Pain...............................169Chapter 16: Magic Mop...........................................187Chapter 17: Lighter Living......................................207Chapter 18: Smoother Sailing....................................221Chapter 19: Flowing and Fulfilment..............................237Summary.........................................................251Conclusion......................................................253A Quiz for You..................................................257Acknowledgements................................................259Resources.......................................................261

Chapter One

I took great pride in being organised on school mornings. I had finished the lunches, the dishwasher was on, and the clothes were spinning in the machine. I only had to finish a few little things so I said in an upbeat tone, "Let's put our clothes on, polish our teeth, pack our bags, and off we go!" I thought to myself, it is nice when everything flows!

We were so close to making it through the door on time. I cannot recall what happened. Somehow, I found myself sitting at the dining room table, sipping plunger coffee—not because it was hot, but because I was making the most of what I had at the time, even if my coffee was cold! I knew on some level that the caffeine would do the trick!

In all honesty, feeling better afterward had more to do with getting out what I really had to say! This was my journal entry:

Oh, my gosh! Am I normal? The hardest thing I have done in my life is parent and try to do it well!

I thought birth was the hardest thing I would ever have to do as a parent!

I surrendered myself to the universe—if I came through, it was meant to be.

I thought I was going to have a home birth, with every detail etched and a grand visualisation of overall calm and relaxation. Wow, when I look back, we didn't even get the oil burner on! Birth was just full-on entrapment and surrender. Although it felt like eternity, it was only momentary. On the upside, my dire exhaustion was relieved with surgical intervention, and I could rest assured that I only have to go through the birthing experience again if I have another baby!

In giving birth, there was certainly no sagging and swaying of the ups and downs that go on in parenting, fluctuating day-by-day, hour-by-hour, and even minute-by-minute sometimes. This rocky ride is breaking me and I'm exhausted.

There are the good times and great moments—usually fits of laughter or overwhelming tears of joy when an unexpected, heart-warming moment occurs like, "Mummy, I just love you so much!" However, sneaky, creepy, sticky webs of entrapment keep finding their way into my life and causing strife!

I feel like retreating, curling up in a tiny cupboard as an attempt to hide and make the pain go away. However, when I am brave enough to venture out, the icky, sticky threads will still be there and I will have to pick my way through them with fine composure, so they do not constrict and trap me again.

The more I resist or try to reclaim control of my life, the more those threads thicken and multiply. Like twining three spun fibres into a yarn—singularly they pull apart with ease, yet together they hold firm and strong. Only a fully intended, divisive invention will cut them clean.

Perhaps antidepressants might do the trick—flat-line the bottoms and take the edge off the steep, sudden, plummeting valleys of my emotions; maybe even leave a little light on in the room. But would they take the edge off the thrilling highs, the complete joy, and the utter glee that comes from dancing naked to daggy tunes on the keyboard? Or singing full throttle with all sorts of screams as my little one flies off the lounge chair into a nest of cushions on the floor? Would they have nullified the in-the-moment adrenaline rush whilst wiping clean all prior recollections of pain?

I breathe and sigh, gather my will, and gently tease my way out through the web that looms outside the door. At any moment, self-doubt and self-pity make the fibres intensify and block out the light. In darkness there is no nurturing embrace, just silent suffocation. I know I have a strong desire to embrace life so I plead, "It's got to get easier than this!"

My eyes shut tight, teeth clench, and hands clasp my face. I breathe in with restriction and force the air out as I say to myself, "Back I go, back to, back on, back up, and back through." A bit like self-talk, mustering the courage to take the next step. Slowly, I soften and see a dim flicker of light beneath the tiring overlays of my pain. It gives me hope and I decide to make a change—to step up and step out, but not step back this time. I was sure of that.

As waves of light caress me with their gentle, warm glow, I feel support for my desire to create something different. "No, I'm not going back. I just can't do the pain again!" I state out loud, telling the world. It's a gratifying feeling to stand up and say no to this habitual pattern of pain. I am so glad I am here now, realising this and getting it off my chest.

Wise words from the voice of my heart speak with truth and simplicity: "There is another way." I look to the door and the web is gone. I feel myself taking a gentle breath like a soft piece of tissue catching the breeze. This is a nice change!

This moment has finally resolved—it was tricky at first, but now I am at ease. I thought I was living when I focused on industrious goals and achieved them, like studying full-time for eight years, while juggling various part-time jobs—quite often two at a time, or building a private clinical practice from the ground up.

The financial and material wows of my life are dormant at present, a polite way to say, "In dire despair." Yet, I am alive, and that I know! The simplest spark brings immense pleasure, like when my son says, "Brush my teeth, Mummy. No, I'll do it!" Or, "Mummy, I love you, and I forgive you!" even when I'm crouched over in child's pose, cheeks salty from tears, when there was no way out but to cry.

I hadn't laughed so much, so fully from my belly or reshaped so much in my body in the course of four years, until I reached motherhood. Yet, I am being stretched again, to reconsider what I want in my life. Why is parenting so hard at times? What is a meaningful occupation at this stage life for me?

I know deep down in my heart that parenting is for me, no matter how trying it can be, and re-evaluating where I want to be is okay. I am happy with my family, home, and garden, and will continue to make the most of what I have.

I have reached a humble realisation and affirmation, that parenting is a true, good, loving work role. I do get weak and doubtful though. I am learning to develop my self-assurance and acceptance that parenting is indeed, an essential and important role, even if only for my family and me.

After writing at the table with my cold coffee, the house was quiet and still. I closed my journal and soaked up the sound and sensation of the little "click" as I gently pressed the snap-lock button. I felt much better, left my journal on the table, and moved into a new cycle in my everyday life.

I packed the bags, picked up the keys, kissed our puppy goodbye, and greeted the children with a soothing smile. Changing my son out of his pyjamas and polishing his teeth were no longer a necessity. His big sister was ready. I closed the front door. We meandered along the garden path, out through the gate, and settled into the car. Not a single word was spoken—we were peaceful and content.

When I came home later that day, I saw my journal on the table and instead of placing it back onto the shelf in the dining room, where it once sat collecting dust, I moved it to my bedroom. I placed it up high on a shelf to hide well away from easy reach. My body let out a sigh and for a moment, I closed my eyes. I stood still and wondered, what happened to me this morning? This question had me beat and I was glad the ordeal was over. I shook my head and slowly walked away. A little voice tiptoed behind me whispering, "Am I normal? Do I need some kind of help?"

Chapter Two

Sitting at the table and writing, while sipping my cold coffee, was a quick way to cool-off from the heat of an explosive situation. The relief was not as immediate as jumping into a pool or spritzing my face, but it was very effective and deeply significant. I returned to my life refreshed and the events in my life thereafter, flowed. There was no nagging, pleading, pushing, or overdoing. This was a welcome change. When we were all in the car and I was about to set the gear in reverse, I decided that I was going to sit down and write more often, whenever I felt I needed to.

I seemed to be waiting for my life to eventually smooth out, yet every day was greeting me with chaos and stress. Many small, yet volatile events were landing on my plate, ready to burn in any direction I turned. I was frustrated with constantly having to face challenges and heated situations. I felt depleted and could no longer push on. I was consuming so much energy by trying to keep my life and myself together.

A number of months had passed since I had written my journal entry, "Am I Normal?" I was writing more and did not realise that I was feeling better overall. One afternoon, my husband reached out and whisked me into his arms. He nuzzled into my neck and warmly whispered, "I can see you're changing. I like it and it's helping our family harmony." His generous, tender compliment softened my body and caressed my soul. I had forgotten how much I had evolved.

Upon receiving his gentle reassurance, I felt the sparkle of a happier, more confident me. The excitement about my change bubbled away freely and I suddenly burst out loud, "Would you like to read some of my writing since it is having such good effect on me?" Soon after, my fizzy freedom smoothed out and I wished I had kept a grip on my excitement as part of me wanted to contain my deep, dormant self-revelations. This was a side of my personality that I did not want my husband did not see!

With an air of apprehension, I handed my journal to my husband that night and I could not let him or my book of secrets out of sight. I busied myself whilst casting a careful eye in his direction. He made no comments or noticeable expressions. When my husband was finished reading, he said simply and honestly, in a tone flecked with surprise, "Your writing is a skill I haven't recognised!" He elaborated, "You should share what you write more often."

I felt a lifting sensation from the base of my brain, just as you pry a weed from the ground—initially, a short firm tug and then a sturdy, gentle, persuasive pull to ensure the network of capillary roots release their sturdy hold. My weed of shame was free. Sunshine tickled the vacant space and hinted at a new possibility—if another person was interested in my writing and could identify with what I was writing about, then perhaps I was normal after all!

I needed validation and was happy to leave our intimate experience of sharing at that. I was not yet convinced that my writing was worthy of public sharing and I had not yet considered, that sharing my writing could be in my destiny. Writing was natural but sharing was new.

The dazzling exchange with my husband that evening ignited a strange, new feeling within me. I was now curious about how I evolved and how my life change began to unfold. Therefore, I decided to read my writing to see if it would reveal what was going on inside me. This was new territory.

At the time of writing, I had not intended to return to read. My intention was to write as I felt I needed to, at the time, and leave it at that. Journal writing for me was about getting it out and letting it be, putting it away and eventually, throwing it away someday.

When read "Am I Normal?" I witnessed myself embark on, and complete, a complex inner journey. I was thankful that I recorded my experience that day so truthfully. I knew that I needed to take my time to reflect on this event more deeply.

I did not like reading my written material initially—it was a little bit dark and scary. I felt embarrassed about rambling and was ashamed about the existence and nature my pain. I needed time to accept my honest reality. I was surprised with my ability to transform my inner turmoil and emerge centred, peaceful, and refreshed. This turn around had me intrigued—something was going on whilst I was writing, that was helping me.

Over the next few weeks, I reflected upon this revealing event and wondered: How did this experience bring about a change in my everyday life?

A dull, firm drumbeat looming in the distance was beginning to intensify. As I contemplated this question, my answer was not yet complete—it was only dawning.

Chapter Three

When I found myself suddenly caught in an escalating, heated situation, I decided to take solo space. I removed myself from the situation and found a place to be alone. I walked into the dining room as it was close by and sat down at the table. I did not have to go behind closed doors for privacy—somehow there was an air of mutual respect for one-another's space. The environment around me was still and calm. I was not even interrupted by our dog wanting to play ball.

I unplugged from the stress and left the chaos behind. I changed an old habit of pushing through tough times. I did not unleash or contribute to the fireworks, or linger for a scolding. By removing myself from the heated situation, I took time out.

Time out is not a new concept for most people. It is a normal act and healthy strategy. Most of us take time out from time-to-time. Some of us take time out often and some of us do not take time out for ourselves at all. Taking time out from a heated situation, fuelled by escalating stress, chaos, and explosive reactivity however, is a new healthy concept for me.

In heated situations, I have usually tried to "survive the heat" by persisting and by putting up a shield to deflect harsh outbursts and protect my inner vulnerability. I thought this was all that I could do, and that it was important to stay grounded in this troublesome space if I was to contribute to resolution.

I denied the obvious—persisting and shielding were unhealthy habits. I settled for the belief that, I had to maintain composure, even if I would feel uneasy and put myself under pressure to do so. Therefore, I supressed my survival instincts and endured the consequences of many, varied tests. I would try to maintain composure and impose an illusion of control with a domineering voice and firm words. But, my cloak of composure would eventually rip at the seams from the intensity of my uncontrollable emotional outburst.

Taking time out this particular day was something that just happened. It was a quick, easy, and effective step. I was not fully aware of what I was doing, as this was not something that I had planned to do. Leaving the heated situation was like reaching for a helping hand with a ray of hope that I would experience a better feeling in doing something new.

I left the heart of a heated situation and took the first step in a new direction. I did not realise in this instance, that time out would become the first step of my survival strategy.

By taking time out, I removed myself from an unhealthy situation. I gave myself time and space to experience a new way.

Chapter Four

In a quiet, private space, I reached for my journal and let out all that I needed to say. I let my inner voice speak freely as my writing ran wild. My unfiltered thoughts poured out—I had so much to say. I could not put my feelings into words at the time. I was not able to label my emotions or even able to acknowledge that I was experiencing pain.

I found myself embarking on a vivid, visual tour of my painful feelings in action, guided through my own sense of what I needed to do. I instinctively used imagery to describe the nature and pattern of my pain and the hold it had on me. I was bound in a sneaky, creepy, sticky web.

Whilst I was sitting at the table writing, my visualisation experience slowly uncovered my pain. I saw myself crouching in a cupboard. I was not able to admit how entrapped my inner feelings were but I was able to describe how I felt physically: "My eyes shut tight, teeth clench, and hands clasp my face. I breathe in with restriction and force the air out." Somehow, the visual description of my constricting body was enough to trigger release and create a shift in my painful reality. I felt my tension dissolve and my physical body soften. I also saw my body relax and release in my visual scene. I no longer had to contain the anguish and turmoil of my pain. Stillness filtered through my being and aligned with my calm surround. This was a blissful experience!

By expressing my thoughts and experiencing my pain, I let out all that I needed to, privately, in a way that was natural for me. By revealing my painful, raw inner reality, I let go and experienced immediate relief. Everything I wanted to say, experience, and acknowledge was vented completely, honestly, and privately.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Time Out, Tune In, Turn Onby LEENY THOMAS Copyright © 2012 by Leeny Thomas. Excerpted by permission of Balboa Press. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.