Mindfulness

“Bloom”

Peggy Rice9 Comments
I took a 7-question survey to determine my Word for the New Year. My word is “Bloom.” In fact, I didn’t like that word, so I took the survey again, answering the questions slightly differently, and I got the word “Abide.” Now curious to see if I could discover other key words, I took the survey two more times, slightly different answers again each time, and got “Bloom” again, and “Gather.”

 

I guess my word is “Bloom.”

I’m not particularly thrilled with that word. It makes me think of the quote “Bloom where you are planted,” which I’m not especially fond of. So I discussed it with my husband.

To me, that phrase refers to now- ness, accepting where I am without longing for someplace I was previously, or something more that I want, and instead accepting my current situation and thriving here. Not all bad, right? Except to me, there’s an element of settling, giving in, surrendering, capitulating. It has a mild negative connotation.

Upon further discussion, maybe it means being “all in,” or being mindful in the current moment. My husband said the word reminds him of roots that grow, of springtime and newness. He’s picturing a new plant; I’m visualizing an established flower. I think I like his interpretation better.

“Bloom where you are planted.” Give life your best in your current circumstances.

If I take that idiom apart a little bit, I can see that where I am is where God has me right now. It’s a place on the journey we’re traveling together, where He’s leading me and this is one of the stops along the way.

Maybe it refers to this season of my life. How can I bloom – or how should I abide – here and now? What can I do to bring Him glory in my current situation?

All the words the survey revealed – Bloom (2x), Abide, Gather – could all be applied to flowers. Flowers have to abide – stay deep in the soil – to gather the nutrients they need to bloom. And blooms are often gathered to make a bouquet, full of bright colors and fragrant aromas.

So maybe I’m a flower. I’m to abide – stay close to Christ – so I can bloom and produce a fragrant offering to Him. And I can be gathered with other flowers – other people in my life – to manifest His beauty from our lives. Our lives of blooming where we’re planted. Right here. Right now.

 

Flat

Peggy Rice8 Comments

In depression, between descending into the dark or coming up into the light, there is flat.

Flat affect. Flat enthusiasm (an oxymoron). Flat attitude. Flat outlook. Flat energy.

For me, it usually happens when the meds aren’t quite right.

A month ago, I had been on the edge of a depressive episode, so the psych doc and I increased one med and I’ve been using my blue light. He said that I’d feel better in 7 to 10 days.

It’s been a month. I don’t feel better. I don’t feel worse, either. I feel flat.

Flat is a lot like depression – indeed, it’s part of it, but I tend to feel it more distinctly – as its own symptom – on the way out of depression. Even though the effects are similar, depression has a downward pull, where flat is flat, not down.

Like I could take it or leave it. All of it. Nothing really matters. I don’t have strong feelings of sadness or anxiety, nor do I feel excitement or joy. I don’t really want to do anything. I eat because I’m supposed to; I’m not usually hungry. I’m able to do the things I need to do, be around the people I need to be with, can even overcome the apathy to run errands or attend the ladies’ Bible study. I don’t really want to, but I will.

In depression, the desire to stay home in my pajamas, is so strong! In flat, I can go out and do. In all truthfulness, I go out and do during depression, too. But it’s way harder; I really have to fight myself. In flat, there’s just the barest speck of desire to go and do, so it’s just a hint easier. I can hardly tell the difference myself.

Last week, I accompanied my husband on a business trip, and got to hang out with my kids while he worked. I wanted to go, but wasn’t overly excited like I’d think I would be normally.  I trusted that I would have fun once I got there. And I had a wonderful visit with my kids – was able to live in and enjoy the moments. Our entire family laughed a lot, especially on a relaxed Friday night. But those feelings didn’t stay with me, nor can I reach back to retrieve them. They simply were. And now they’re not.

This flatness happens on my journey up and down with depression. It’s often a first indicator that something is wrong, that depression is threatening to return and wreak its havoc. That’s flatness with a downward pull.  And it comes back when I’m recovering, emerging from the darkness and into God’s light of hope and expectancy.

Usually a tweak in meds will do the trick, and I can bounce the rest of the way up. So I’ll tell my psych doc on Friday that I’m not where I thought I’d be in my recovery, and see if a small adjustment will fix it.

And I’ll remind myself, yet again, that God is with me through my depression. He has not abandoned me, even when I descend into the dark thoughts of depression.  He’s with me in the flat.  And He rejoices with me when I emerge on the other side. He’s my constant companion – I am never alone.

New versus old

Peggy Rice1 Comment

I met with a therapist today, on the recommendation of my psych doc. It was just intake, so it’s hard to judge how we’ll get along.

I miss my old therapist. The one who knows me better than I know myself. I want to talk to him and have him explain the thoughts in my head that I don’t understand, the thoughts that I don’t even realize I’m having. The thoughts that come with depression but I don’t recognize. I was with him for eight years – to say he understands me is a gross understatement.

I miss my other therapist – the woman who loved Jesus and let that flow from her onto me. The counselor who always gave Godly counsel, who pointed me to Christ each time we met. I only worked with her for a year, but she, too, was a huge help as I went through the transition of moving to Florida, and then a depressive episode.

I don’t want to start over with someone new. I don’t want to go through this depression with a stranger.

I had a phone call from a friend today, and she gave good advice to not compare. Not compare what I have here with what I had before. We were talking about churches, but the same probably applies to everything in my current life. I need to live in the present, and simply be grateful for the past, instead of constantly measuring everything by what used to be.

That’s so hard to do. I don’t have much in the way of friends here – one, really – though I’ve lived here for over a year now. I didn’t connect with women in Bible Study last Spring, but I’m going to try it again. Not having a church home is very distressing – leaves a huge hole in my life. I haven’t been in any kind of leadership role for over two years now – I really miss facilitating a small group.

So I look back at my friendships with longing. I miss my old churches. My old jobs. My old activity level. I don’t need to be going a thousand miles an hour, but anything is better than hours alone, which is what I face now.

I feel like these posts keep saying the same thing, so I can tell I’m processing this idea of living mindfully. Fully invested in here and now. So so hard to do!

Connecting to the beach

Peggy Rice8 Comments

Connecting to the beach…

We have to cross the boardwalk.

I want to walk barefoot, but usually have to wear sandals to protect the soles of my feet on the heated wood. Once we get to that beach, I kick them off and sink my toes into the sand. We trudge through the broken shells to the best spot for the next couple of hours, set up our chairs, and head into the water to cool off. Then I sit mindfully and listen to the sound of the waves as they come up on the shore.  After a while, we walk along the edge of the water and find unbroken shells for our ever-growing collection back home.

The beach is my favorite part of living in Florida.

 

Thinking about nothing

Peggy Rice3 Comments

I find myself staring out the sliding glass door. I’m not sure that’s it’s daydreaming, really, because I’m not thinking about anything. At first glance out the window, I watch the trees waving in the breeze. I see the varied shades of green from palms to pines to bushes to grasses to lawn. I see the blue sky and the fluffy clouds. And then I “zone out” – my mind is wandering but to nothing in particular. I’m not mulling anything over, but if I feel a lingering thought, I might turn it towards God, into prayer.

I have a favorite spot in my house. It’s right here on the left end of the couch. This furthest cushion. The end table is next to me. There’s a lamp and box of tissues and coasters on the corner. I also have my journals – my daily one and my gratitude notebook. There’s plenty of room for my iPad and a snack. The end table is a few steps from the sliding door to the patio.

I have no idea how long I’ve been turned to the door and the outside beyond it. Time has stopped and I am frozen in this place: legs in front of me with my feet on the coffee table, pillow on my lap with this Chromebook on top, my hands on the keyboard but not typing. Shoulders down and relaxed. Head turned to the left, eyes on the distance. Jaw dropped, not clenched. Relaxed.

When I “come to,” I have no idea what I was thinking. But I’ve never believed it’s possible to not think. My mind is always planning or pondering or ruminating. I understand from books and presentations and confirming with the guys in my family (husband, son) that men have a “nothing box” – where they can mentally go and truly think about nothing. I wonder what that would be like to shut off my thoughts. Maybe I just did it.

I don’t count this as mindfulness exactly. I’m not aware of my thoughts, or even of the scenery after the first look. I’m not aware of time passing or sounds I might hear. I just sit and stare into the distance, not seeing. Here on the couch, with my gaze toward the palms, is the closest I come to the nothing box. It’s nice.