Mindfulness

[Hopalong]

Thank you!
And weirdly, I just bought fresh ginger root, which I seldom do.
Will try it soon.

My drying rack (obsession alert) IS slim, even in use. Remarkly small footprint for something that easily dries a full load.

What a ridiculous pleasure. Loaded it again today. Just feeling happy and enjoying doing it. You're right that it feels like walking meditation. But...loading-laundry-rack meditation...

Silly. Silly. But good. I'm happy for good moments!

xo
Hops

[lighter]

Hops:

The smell of fresh ground coffee made me so happy this morning.

Joy lives in the small simple things, IME.

Your posts about your drying rack are lovely.

Lighter

[lighter]

OK, so I wanted to write this out, for myself, that not all amygdala hijackings are alike.... here's a ramble.  I repeat things, I know, bc that's how I learn.  Apparently: /

Bessel Van Der Kolk (I really like him) says that helplessness, when trauma happens to us, is a different animal than when we have the ability to act in a traumatic situation.... like a car wreck, for instance, if a husband can get OUT of the car, and act, and the wife is trapped, and unable to move.... the wife's trauma will be different, harder to deal with and overcome.  It's more difficult to re engage the frontal lobe, creative/logical mind IF we're unable to help ourselves.

I'm just blathering, paraphrasing loosely... but Bessel stresses re framing our trauma so we can move INTO feeling we have some power... which helps us re engage our frontal lobes, and creative/problem solving abilities necessary to healing, and overcoming the initial trauma. 

Another example he gave was about a world class bike rider... hit by a car... dragged a good distance under the vehicle, destroying his legs... crippled him badly....... couldn't bike anymore, was depressed, and traumatized beyond his ability to cope. 

IN one particular session this biker re framed his situation..... revisiting exactly happened during the accident... in his own words, talking himself through it. 

The driver, who hit the cyclist, didn't realize he was dragging him UNDER the car, btw.  It went on and on and on, for a very long time.  Terrible.   

The biker talked it through.... for himself....
he'd been dragged, and bc of his tremendous upper body strength, he'd kept his pelvis from being dragged... his legs had been dragged, and destroyed, but his pelvis... so important to his quality of life..... everything shifted with this realization. 

His LOSS OF HIS CAREER AND PASSION, what he'd lost.....
shifted into what he hadn't lost that day....
bc of his action in the situation..
bc of his strength, and ability to act.....
shifted everything for him.   There was excitement at his discovery, HE felt excitement, and pride, and amazement that he'd DONE this thing that kept him out of a wheel chair the rest of his life.  What an amazing thing to be able to have the life he had!  Bessel guided him.... helped him re frame what happened to him....there was loss and devastation, but there was also triumph, and he'd done that for himself.  He'd acted,  and he'd saved himself too. 

This concept, of feeling we're not helpless.. of calming stress in the brain by increments, and situationally, and regarding long term default pathways we're not aware of but must identify in order to develop choice, merges well with the LEAP brain integration work.   

I want to say, if I haven't said before, that the brain integration program was suggested by oldest dd's therapist, who didn't know HOW brain integration works.

She only knew that she and her children were helped by it, and that it really  helped clients move more quickly, and effectively through sessions with her, which was our experience. 

When we're tied up in shameful knots, experiencing fear, or dread... we're not able to engage our frontal lobes.  We're unable to utilize creative problem solving skills necessary to solve basic problems, much less ones involving trauma, old well worn default pathways, and anything that sounds alarm bells for superfast amygdala.... motion, sound, our brains automatically go through stored memories ALL THE TIME, to find context for everything we see, hear, and smell.... and when alarm is raised, the amygdala shuts down the pathways to our frontal lobe, and then we're wondering why we're handling certain situations differently/poorly/angrily/fearfully in ways that don't serve us, and we identify as things we need and want to change.

Simply identifying these things isn't enough.  Wanting to change them isn't enough.  Sometimes these old pathways serve us in ways that our lower survival brains are perfectly comfortable with.  These patterns have kept us alive, and breathing, which is what lower brain cares about. 

Mid brain is more social, and higher brain more concerned about context... how was it taught in class... the lower brain wants to have sex.  The mid brain wants to have sex with a particular woman at a party, now....
the higher brain identifies that woman as the wife of the boss, and quickly dismisses the option, turning instead to creative solutions that aren't CL... career limiting.

I think about all the bone headed things I've witnessed, and done, and connect the dots.  WHAT part of my brain was operating when I did A, B and C?

tbc

[lighter]

What part of the contractor's brain was engaged when he screamed at me, threatened to cut off my fingers, and appeared as an out of control mad man?  I don't know for sure, but I'm guess his frontal lobe wasn't in charge.  I'm guessing he had an adrenaline dump, a feeling, an old memory sweep his brain into mid or lower brain function, and his actions seemed like the right thing to do.  SEEMED to be what he needed to do to get empathy, care, connection with me, which is the absolute opposite of what he achieved.  He drove the final wedge, and assured that part of his life, the most important part at that time, fell apart, degraded, and brought shame, humiliation... he was ejected by a very large man who didn't accept his dramatic antics, or threats, and would have humiliated him further by physically dominating him if he'd resisted.

Just terrible. 

THAT isn't what he wanted. 

I returned to the island, after my father's memorial service, feeling empathy for the C... feeling I would try to help him learn to help himself control his emotions....   I'd do balances on him, relieve stress on his brain, show him how to do it himself, and help him notice changes, if any, and support his journey to getting more of what he wanted, which looking back wasn't congruent to what I wanted.

It wasn't realistic, bc he couldn't respect boundaries or space..... but my goodness..... that man really needs help, and it's impossible not to identify how it would improve his life. That's not my problem, even though he would have been a fascinating case study.... I digress.

 I couldn't stand being in his space, or 15 feet away from him, and I underestimated my ability to tolerate being in his space... it shut me down.... I avoided him... worked with intense focus, which drove him nuts, and things deteriorated predictably.  What was going on in my life that lead to that particular crisis?

My father died while I was at the cottage working.  The contractor was pressuring me/throwing tantrums/making demands I go back to the cottage, even while I was planning the service, and trying to handle regular cottage business, and his emotions... overwhelming on the best of days, and there had been  violence, which always shuts me down, and switches me to survival mode... shaking, unable to eat, hyper alert.

I wasn't thinking clearly.  My sister, who got along well with the contractor, wasn't thinking clearly either, bc memorial service.  Planning.  Mourning.  My getting tormented affected her.  She should have gone back to the cottage.... I shouldn't have gone, bc what happened was predictable IF we were thinking clearly, which we weren't. 

On reflection, it's not just needing help that shuts me down.  There's usually other moving parts involved, crisis, trauma, things out of my control.... fear.... unrelenting pressure..... having no down time to recover, etc.  It's always a combination, and it's not correct to say it's simply when I need help, or have to ask for help, or have no control.  And social anxiety.  And fear of failure.  Lots of things go into a very complex chain of events... it's never just one thing.  Never.  I need to identify those things, tease them apart, understand them, then learn to identify them, get back to center, THEN deal with them, and the situation from a position of strength, rather than reactivity, and negative emotional looping.

So... what is the magical combination of having a touchstone... a friend in our lives to help steady us, feel Doc or Lionel or safe lovely friend IN our chests, with us.... helping us calm our brains and find our centers when overwhelmed.... and how does having that connection to "other" fit into calming our brains/engaging sympathetic nervous system?

It's like falling off a shelf.... dropping off the frontal lobe, down into mid brain, maybe right into lower brain.  The touchstone is at the edge, and can help us steady ourselves.  IS CENTERING.  Reminds us we have strengths, and ability, when fear and doubt threaten to sweep us away.  We know we can trust them, and they see US, our flaws, but most importantly they see our skills, and we see ourselves through their eyes, bc we're not alone, and left to our own devices... left to fall, and flail.

IF I could go back, what would I change about the scheduling woman at the Re Store?  I wouldn't have let her fluster me with dramatic, raised voice accusations I KNEW weren't true.  It was so humiliating to be accused like that.  I would have produced my receipt, calmly found the place I paid for delivery, along with the date scheduled, and she wouldn't have continued to escalate, bc I was calmly stating the facts, which was a challenge to her, which shut me down more. 

Her SEEING the receipt, correctly, would have been all it took to shut her down, get an apology, and new delivery date.  Honestly, it served me to have a later delivery date.  I COULD have benefited from that interaction, felt great about, and not carried all this negativing around with me all this time.  In fact, just identifying a way to turn that INTO a positive,and understanding it was within my ability all along, helps me release the desire to (correctly) name call her a bitch. 

It takes away a point of pain, that heightened the pain of the boss's son's death... he was my friend.  I have one of his lovely wooden bowls... he was an artist, and he was sweet, and kind, and we got along very well.  Chatted all the time, bc I was there all the time for a while.  Now there's just that knot of loss, combined with lovely memories of the time we had, and the scheduling lady doesn't land on top of that with all the emotions it used to evoke. 

Hmmm..... centered. 

Now, I'm going to do that with regard to the contractor, which won't be quite so easy.  More personalities involved.  More being pushed to do things I didn't want to do, by many people, and a lot of not honoring myself/speaking my mind/enforcing boundaries, and asserting myself in ways I wanted to, and that's the beginning. 

I'm pretty good at putting boundaries in place.  I'm not great at enforcing them. It's a pattern.

I'm going to skip the obvious answer of NOT dealing with him at all, bc he really was calm, and acting normal, and had a lovely gf, which to me, meant he wasn't going to be pushing for relationship again.  That problem seemed solved.   

I think the contractor could have been held in check, his behavior kept in check,if I'd been dealing with him myself.  My sister's involvement mean I was talked into allowing certain behaviors I wouldn't normally put up with. This tipped the scale, along with my father's death, and I lost my ability to cope, and navigate the eggshell walking mine field. 

Contractor was a standard boundary trouncer... couldn't stand them.  Gray rock, working hard, patting him on the head for jobs well done, and there were SO many..... worked for a while, though I was hyper sensitive to his immature, whiney complaining... I was coping.

Add the unrelenting heat.  His failure to put together lists, so I didn't have to go back and forth to the other island to the hardware store.... in that heat..... and the whining... and my father's stroke... my sister convincing me to go along to keep the peace, when it was part of the slide into madness.... MY doing, not hers.... I get that too.....
on the final day I told my sister to STOP placating him!  I'm not letting anything slide going forward.  I'm done!  And I was.  At that point I told him I'd never comply bc he threatened me with violence or behaved badly....

his response....

"Oh, reaaaaally?"

Me:  Ya.  Really. With conviction. Without fear.  Without second guessing myself.  I was back in the zone.  Centered.  Sure of what would happen next. I was done walking on eggshells... eggshells suck.  Come what may.... put him on a plane with his tools... done.

And then my sister flipped out, and demanded I fire him, and have him escorted off the job, which flipped me out all over again. 

And I DID that.  I didn't do it my way.  I didn't get a chance to center myself, and think it through.  I sent a text..... then several more, then he KNEW he was fired, and headed right to the house, to the place where he hid a key, where I'd just frantically found and pocketed it a minute ahead of him, and he hung up on my sister..... "SHE TOOK THE KEY" and she began calling me like crazy, while I freaked out wondering where my renter was, bc now I'm afraid contractor is going to physically assault me at this point.... I'm peeking out the side door, to get renter's attention in his cottage, and the contractor pops into my view.... I jump, and scream, bc hyperalert at this point, and the contractor walks towards me with purpose, and malice.... the renter walks out his door, and between the contractor and me. 

Contractor wants ME to leave my property.... renter gets very quickly that this isn't going to be how this goes.  I've already started getting tools together, finding hardware for hurricane shutters, bits, and such... making sure the things I bought are hidden... his notebook with expenses and what he's owed.... hidden...... and then contractor getting his tools together.... upset he can't fit all into his big tool box so he looks me in the eye, and throw/empties the box onto the tile floor..... malice coming out of his pores.... renter standing there, watching without emotion....... I'm frantic, at least on the inside... I think I probably looked pretty steady... I've had lots of practice having to. 

At that point, contractor shifts... uses a little small helpless voice, asks renter if he can help him lift his heavy tool boxes... .gets renter busy on porch and RUNS BACK TO ME LIKE A LITTLE DEMON< shoves his chest into mine BLECK and makes squealing pig noises while telling me I'll have to move, he's going to run and my children out of our home, and make sure we have to sell the cottage, and I push him off me,  with some force, and walk outside to where the renter is.

Contactor being sly, pretending to wish the best for me TO the renter... saying he wanted renter to help me finish project.... very sly.  Very smart.  Capable of control, at times.   Informed me that he wasn't a nut..... he was calculating, and the crazy behaviors were about controlling me.  I shouldn't have let him cross that first boundary, and that first boundary was crossed the day we were leaving. 

I wanted to add a stop.  I rented a trailer large enough to accomodate a golf cart.  My brother had one, offered it that morning... was preparing to meet me, so I didn't have to go out of the way AND THEN THE CONTRACTOR FLIPPED OUT, bc he wanted to go somewhere on the way to the Port of Miami, which wasn't what I had planned. 

Contractor whined and cried, and raged, and I didn't understand that he wanted to go to his "friend's" house to chill ax, and hang for a couple days.  I had all that cargo going to the island...  it was a solid plan to include the golf cart in that chaos, and we needed it..... it was the right thing to do, but contracter was refusing to go, and also in control of the electrictian. 

I should have just let him quit, bc he would have laughed, pretended it was a joke, and fallen in line.  I would have a golf cart on the island, and not have been firmly on the path of watching my boundaries get stomped, one after the other, at least not in the way I set up through that action.

And I feel much better about it all right now. 

Finally enforcing boundaries was necessary... even though I hated it, and didn't do it quite my way... it had to happen.  I wish I hand't allowed that first boundary transgression.  I wish I'd have gray rocked better, at every moment, and selected my battles more carefully. 

The first big problem on the island was over laundry.... a 10 minute walk to the marina, in 100 degree weather, carrying dirty laundry, the contractor dogging my every step, every day, every where I went.... I wanted to get the laundry into the machines and keep moving.  HE wanted his laundry separate from thngs he considered icky... rugs, for instance.  I should have let him figure out what went in which machine... what did I care?  I cared.  I put a rug in with his things, and he took it out and threw it at my head and face... hit me pretty hard, but what he did next was worse.  He stomped out of the laundry center, whining, and fuming, and started texting me....
he was quitting.   He was leaving the island.  He was done.  He had to go. 

I texted back that I'd moved the laundry around... he was right... I figured out how to sort the laundry more efficiently, and wished he'd stayed to help, blah blah... no big deal.  I would be back with clean laundry soon.... carry it myself in the heat.... laugh it off, no problem.... hitting me with the rug was no big deal... didn't notice... martial artist so I didn't even register it, blah blah... talked him out of his tree, as they say.

He wanted to go snorkeling WITH me, and was preparing to do it.  The helper, who was contractor's lacky, and whipping boy, was very upset about C's upset, and trying to make peace... chatting me up like a little monkey out of nerves... he'd made C promise not to DO this, on pain of leaving the island if C made trouble like this, and then C began pacing around us.... I should have sensed he was building up to take center stage...again. 

The next thing you know he's picking a fight with sweet unicorn hippy helper, pushes him into a post, hard, then grabs him by the throat, chokes him and has a death grip on his chin hairs.... I took a hammer OUT of C's hand during the struggle.... I remember screaming at him to let go..... I didn't  strike him.  It didn't ocur to me to strike him.  He let go.  Helper very angry... shouting C crazy.... he left and went to the other island.... I'm alone with C who's now crying he fucked up... hurt the only person he cares about blah blah.... and then he decides it's not really HIS fault at all. 

"It's MY fault", he begins whining....... 

I DO that TO him.   It's MY fault... he sees it clearly now. 
I should have gone snorkeling THEN, when he wanted, bc the tide was just right (bullshit) and he's not taking any responsibility at this point.   
The truth was he wasn't getting attention, was jealous for 5 minutes, and decided he was going to PUNISH me and the helper, and was entitled to punish us.  I suspect the punishment would have been the same for a minute transgression or 5 minute transgression... he wanted to make things OK after hitting me with the rug.  He wanted to seal the deal where he was off the hook, and could feel OK again.  THAT was his goal.   

He says he's leaving the island... has to go.... I agree, and want to make that reservation... I think.  I'd have done it,  if he'd really asked.... it was so terrible..... I remember talking about what we were building... a place for both our families to go and make memories, an amazing feat.... and he calmed down, and agreed to stay after crying quite a bit.  He cried a lot, now that I think about it.  Not just that day.  I went to my room, and when I came back out the next morning the chin hairs were all cleaned off the floor, and drunken helper was asleep on the sofa, safe. 

Unicorn helper was quiet for days, but stayed.  Eventually he shifted back into his placating posture with C, but he stayed away from me like I had the plague.  I was the problem, of course I was.  C killed the unicorn,  is how it felt.  I think I was talking about tye dyed socks, and a t shirt I liked when C decided to go full nutjob on us.  In any case,   I didn't deserve it.  The unicorn didn't deserve it, but I wasn't so wise about choosing my battle that day.  I wasn't so wise about being proactive with C regarding something he had his heart set on, and would have gotten everything back on track for the day.

In the end, I surprised C by filing for the TPO... he didn't think I would, and sneered and jeered about my making threats... he texted "the best you can do is kill me..."  crazy.

Then he's in court, and I'm in court, and he has the unicorn by his side, and a very uncomfortable real estate attorney who knows nothing about being in front of a Judge.  He sits with C and unicorn, instead of joining the other attorneys at the front tables. 

I'm alone, and my attorney pops in close to lunch, about the time the Judge calls our case.  The rest doesn't matter.  I'm in my element then.   I'm protected.   I have support, my attorney is smart about separating us, so the stress is gone.  I'm in a room two floors down.... there are deputies, and I'm pretty sure I'd win if C actually tried to hurt me.... I've been ready to defend myself.  I wouldn't hesitate.  C would be surprised.  That would be a mistake. 

So I'm dealing with the situation without fear, I have confidence, my frontal lobe is fully engaged, and I'm getting the deal I want, and I also get the TPO..... I don't have to go back in front of the Judge.... C does, and he almost blows it.  His attorney knows enough to step in, speak for C, and get the deal done.  I haven't heard a word from C since his "friend" who owns the place we stopped in at for a couple days at the beginning of that safari, has had words and eyes on C.

I know C showed his friend all the texts, which C, up to that point felt were PROOF of my vileness, and reason to harm me.... his friend saw them, saw his freind, heard his friend, and C never texted, called, or showed up again.  His friend, who I happen to like, and know is a very stable sane fellow, talked him into understanding how serious the situation was, bc that was the end of that.

I will say this.... C's group of he man woman hater drinkingbuddies, one of which was his attorney that day in court, all believe that I deserved to be threatened with a knife, bc I wasn't "giving C enough empathy" for an injured finger.  My attorney understood the level of crazy we were dealing with after she heard that.  After she showed them all the e mails I'd copied, and provided, she showed the other attorney how little fun he'd have if he actually took any of this to court. 

Now,  I get to worry about the C sabotaging my vehicles, my home, my children, and dog.... I get to wonder if any strange chemical odors I notice are about him, or the In Laws, or something the girls are up to, or just my imagination.

This is what I get to do... I get to notice my internal world, assess it, calm myself down if necessary, make sure my problem solving skills are accessible, and talk myself out of my trees as needed.

THAT'S what I get to do. 

::NOD::.

That's my job. 

Having many tools in my centering toolbox is my job. 

Remembering to use them, and stop DOING when I can't get back to center...  is my job.

Figuring out how to protect myself, when I'm off center, is my job.

Asking for space and time is my job, bc I'm not powerless.  I'm not without skills, and awareness.  Not anymore.

Whew... I'm holding my breath a lot.  Must remember to breath.

It's that first boundary transgression you have to catch.. I have to catch.  The very first one.  Allowing the second is the mistake that leads to misery, IME. 

Lighter

[lighter]

I'm not engaged in my life right now.  I'm not happy or sad, or struggling.... well... it's sometimes a struggle to remain non judgemental.  It sometimes knocks me off my pegs, and I have to catch it quick, put my finger on it, and watch it recede. 

Another note:
I try not to share my history.   I've learned, it's best not to, but I did last week, and the gal texted the next morning to call her.  I did.  She was up all night, thinking of the book she wants to write about my story.  She wants to help women, and children with it, and can't I see that with her?

This was call for intense discomfort, and I know how words get screwed around, and it's not easy to SAY how something really was.  It's one of the most difficult things I've ever done, frankly, and I want to say that I haven't told my story in a very long while, and maybe never quite like that, bc of experience, and wisdom.... less emotion, more knowing what was important, and especially keying into the pieces that this gal had experienced during her nightmare divorce, with a child in the middle.  She wants me to record it... more discomfort, just the thought of it. 

We had a lot in common regarding litigation, unfortunately.  She got it.   I think I hurt her feelings when I didn't jump in,  with both feet, and get excited, but I didn't.  I don't think she's a writer, and I don't think I can write that book.   

I think she wants to be a writer.

I think she has a vision for helping others, which I GET,  but I have that thin uncomfortable feeling about it.   

I have lots of decisions coming up.  Things I'm not particularly good at.  The idea of writing a book actually looks kind of OK, when I think about these other things, and that worries me.  I'd hate to choose anything, bc I hate the alternatives so much.   I'm not doing anything right now, in any case.  I'm just paying attention.

Lighter

 

[Hopalong]

That "thin, uncomfortable feeling...."

Trust it.

Hops

[lighter]

Hi Hops:

The writer gal just shared the chapter of her book, written during her stay on the island. 

I'm shocked, truthfully.
 She leads with imagery.   
Lots and lots of imagery....
 about trash. 

Trash on the beach near my place. 

Trash on the beach in front of my cottage.   

 Trash on in the yard, in tree roots, under larger trash. 

I finally had to laugh...
so.. much... trash.
 For a second, I thought she might be joking, honestly.

And about the time I started laughing, she connected the trash on the beach to the trash found around her father's body, after coon hunters discover him, after he's washed up on the bank of the river he fell into after shooting himself in the head.  She writes that the trash, on the island, and on the bank of that river, look identical to her.

There was a flip flop, in particular, she refers to through the chapter. It could have been her father's flip flop. One he wore. One by his body.  One on the beach that perhaps he wore IF he had escaped his fate, moved to the island and lived without her. She wishes she could find him, an old man now, like Hemingway, and forgive him for leaving her.  Tell him it's OK that he found an escape, even if it meant he couldn't be with her.  Talk to him, then slap him for leaving her.  She's conflicted, and it's heartbreaking to read. 

I forgot about the trash for a minute, it was so sad.

 Then, on the final pages, she brings it back to trash. 

This time she's describing "beautiful garbage" she's found at the "abandoned shack" down the beach from the cottage.  It's interesting garbage, I admit, since I always ignore the cottage, and the squatter.  Lawn mowers under a rusted out fridge, next to burned pots, juxtaposed against the turquoise waters of the Atlantic..... she's snapping away, taking pictures, loving everything about this,  when the squatter, I swear I told her about weeks before her trip, makes his appearance, startling her and her friend quite badly.


At this point, in the chapter, she stopped writing, which was frustrating, bc I KNOW what happens next.  I'm curious how she's going to write about it.  Really.
 
The long and the short of it, was the guy tried to tell her she had something in her teeth.... he tried to use his finger to get it OFF her teeth, like a child might, and his finger was in her mouth before she could react.  Action IS faster than reaction, always has been.

::nodding::.

When she finally tells me the story, we were standing in her kitchen enjoying a glass of wine while dinner's cooking.  I'd waited for 2 weeks to hear this story, btw.  She'd texted the first morning she was at the cottage.... "the squatter had tried to touch her friend, then had touched her."

Then she went black ops.  NOTHING more.   She leaves me hanging with only those words. 

So, she's telling this story in her kitchen, stops talking, and starts acting out what happens after he pops up, and focuses ON HER.  She lifts her land, as though it's HIS hand, and moves it toward her face.  She's moving really slowly, btw.... so slowly I'm shocked when she points one finger at her open mouth, and continues slowly heading that way..... and then it hits me!  He puts his finger INTO her mouth, and this seems so funny to me!

My knees give out, and I'm trying not to pee myself on her kitchen floor in fit of giggles. 

HOW... did he manage to get... his fingers IN... and I look up, try to ask... How? and off we go on another round of giggles.  Over and over again. 

Now... I don't understand WHY this happened TO her.   I do understand it happened, and it strikes me as hysterically funny, bc it happened at this super slow pace.   While the guy was chattering away like a monkey at her... about what he was doing.  Trying to DO something.  In her mouth. 

I was worried he touched her sexually, or violently, but this slow, gentle movement INTO her mouth... with one finger, like a baby trained to touch things with "one finger" which is what my mother trained all her Grandchildren to do.....
just... very childlike... the way she was portraying it.... and so darned slow, and non threatening.


Turns out she had a big hunk of lipstick between her front teeth, and he was trying to help her.  She figured it out when she saw herself in the mirror at the marina, where the dock master explained the squatter wasn't a dangerous guy... he was just a guy who chose to squat in a shack with a million dollar view.   He has family who bring him food, would provide housing for him, and a nice bed. 

So, once we get over the giggles, find our wine glasses, and move ourselves in front of the fire to call my sister, share the story, and giggle again, SHE TELLS ME HER FRIEND ARMED HERSELF WITH A BIG BOARD and prepared to bash the squatter in the back of the head IF he moved in an aggressive manner.

This is such a familiar place.... me worrying about things I have no control over, but feel responsible for.  I mean... I give a wide birth to that shack, with the squatter, and his whistling animal noises as I pass.  How can I control what Airbnb renters do, or don't do?  Or what the squatter does, for that matter? I can't.

This is a very familiar feeling... trying to control things that aren't within my control.  I can't control the squatter, or Airbnb renters, or their response to the squatter, who's harmless, but appears unwashed, and odd... particularly if he pops out unexpectedly, or whistles from the shadows of the shack as you pass while shell seeking your way down the beach, children in tow, or if the renters seek him out, or if he seeks them out.

I know everyone is thinking SELL THE PLACE!  Go!  Run... NOWWWWWWW! 

And my feelings around that are.... not positive, timeline wise.  I know I won't enjoy it, and it won't be over quickly, but that's the plan, to enter into an agreement with a crooked realtor, who jerks me around terribly, gives me lists of things to do, then blames me when it doesn't sell in a timely manner, and offers to give it away to one of her friends, who offers to take it off my hands for half what it's worth, which is what I did with the condo on Beech Mountain.  God, I hated that place, very hard to find workers and get materials to that job site too.  I will put the cottage on the market, while trying not to upset my island renter, perhaps offering him money to help show the place, and more if he finds the buyer, or helps get it sold, but....

I feel like my embracing my inability to control  this, or anything, would be helpful.  Releasing the desire to know what comes next, would be helpful.  Accepting that all worldly material things are meaningless, and this too shall pass... would be helpful.

Thoughts?

Lighter 

[Twoapenny]

Wow, Lighter, you have such a colourful life!  Wow.  So much going on.

I'm very out of my depth with real estate/financial matters so I'm not sure my thoughts on the situation will be of any help.  But - for what it's worth -

Is the squatter on your land or just somewhere nearby? If he's on your land then it will likely be an issue but if he isn't then it's really no different to trying to control what their meal is like in a nearby restaurant or whether or not the weather is nice when they stay.

Personally I value quiet, calm, drama free, stress free living over material possessions all day long - but I don't know how to suggest that is cultivated in other people.  I don't know, maybe you could try putting a price on the stress and hassle and time that something causes you and see if that makes it still seem valuable?  Like how much money would feel like enough to make the stress worthwhile, or the time involved sorting everything out and so on?  I don't know if that makes sense - I might have misunderstood what you said about accepting wordly things are meaningless means you want to get rid of the place?

And do you mean you're definitely selling or thinking about doing it?  Have you got someone staying in it at the minute or is it empty?  Personally I'm a fan of streamlining and simplifying, whichever form that takes.  I think you deserve some peace and quiet in your life, Lighter.  And some fun!  For no other reason than it's fun xx

[lighter]

Tupp: 

There's a squatter living a ways down the beach, in a shack, between my cottage and the marina.  It appears abandoned, but it's not.  Anyone walking by is drawn to look at it... it's interesting, but the squatter will engage if given a chance.  That makes me feel bad to write, but he told my sister and her dd that he owned the marina AND wanted to do some kissin with my niece. 

::shaking head::.  Nothing aggressive, but... kissing? He's unwashed, and rather wild in appearance.  Think castaway with heavy dirt caked dreadlocks.... and you have it.

I think you're right about putting a price on the trouble and chaos this place brings to my life.  That's a good way to approach a sales price.

I have a local living in the guest house, and he's employed elsewhere, handling security, meeting workers, hiring workers, and overseeing some of the work.  He meets visitors when he can, and I'm trying to get him involved in handling housekeeping. He already handles opening up the storm shutters, and handing off keys, and does a good job with that.  I have a yearly contract with him so he can't claim squatter's rights, which was a consideration.

Maybe I'll put a long term renter in the cottage, and pay them to show it to possible buyers.  That way there'll be consistent dollars coming in, someone THERE all the time, and no worries about pubic hairs, dead bugs, and dusty baseboards with Airbnb renter reviews.  I wonder if I could rent out ONE of the bedrooms, and still have family use it when they want.  Honestly... it sounds like more chaos.   It IS more chaos. 

About the excitement.... I long for tranquility, and peace.  This kind of excitement creates anxiety. 

My girls are doing OK right now.  Oldest dd just had a rough patch... I didn't know what it was, and struggled to listen, and be present without trying to fix, or name it.  As the days went on, I pulled back, told her trusted her, she should trust her instincts, and I'd support her in any way she felt she needed.  Amazingly, she flipped back to her old self, and now I'm focused on doing things WITH her when I try to speak to her, side by side.  One day it was designing functional pugwear.  We made a duct tape form of her chubby little body... SO CUTE!  That's the kind of excitement I'm up for; )

Today I paid attention to how music affected interaction with her.  It was very helpful, and dd agreed music is a social lubricant.... if only bc it's a distraction.  If you read the article you'll see it's much more than that, and I tend to agree. 

Thanks again for advice on putting a price on troubles with property.  VERY helpful!

Lighter

[Twoapenny]

That's nice that DD pulled herself back without mum having to tell her what to do   You've taught her well, Lighter

Maybe brainstorm all possible scenarios for the beach house.  I work much better with everything on paper, in front of me.  When big stuff is going on I have mind maps all over the wall; it helps me think and helps me see connections and work out potential problems.  So maybe work through all the possible scenarios and see what comes out as best for you - you personally, not the kids, other family members, financial matters, history, work already done and so on, but just what would be easiest and simplest for you.  And it might be that option isn't a practical one but at least it will give you an idea of what you really need and want at the moment and maybe you can then find an option that doesn't take you too far off that path? I don't know what (if any) legal or financial ramifications there might be with any of it but I do think you deserve some peace and relaxation rather than another problem to keep solving so I hope there is a way for the situation to become an easier one for you xx

[lighter]

Mind maps!  For ME, not everyone else! 

That looks wrong, to read it, but it also looks like relief.

Thanks for that, Tupp.

Very helpful.

Lighter

[Hopalong]

Tupp,
I don't want to write you such long things these days that it feels like work to respond. Really. I totally hear you about the depth of fatigue you're trying to relieve, and would rather you were napping than answering my questions. So this is just to say, I am so here, so glad you're here, and so interested.

If you just write "Got it, Hops" I'm totally content.

love
Hops

[lighter]

Hi Tupp:

I'm glad you're excavating fear.  Old fear. Present fear. 

What's real,

What's relevant. 

What's not.

Time to refile it.

Yup.

It's time.

Lighter

[lighter]

I'm really really hungry lately.  I mean, I used to get the afternoon/evening hungries, but now..... it's more often.  More extreme.

Last night I sat down with oldest dd and mentioned it in passing. 

DD's response....

"There's a pig in your head." 

I was intrigued, and asked her to go on.   

She said it was from our hunger gatherer days.... brains programed to reward us for maximizing grazing opportunities, which no longer serve bc food's everywhere now. 

I understood that before the pig comment, but the pig comment really drove the point home.... thinking of it as something OTHER than ME, driving me to eat things that aren't good for me, when I'm not hungry, makes it easier to skip the shame, and guilt, IME. 

Hops, I'm really enjoying how flat my sheets come off the drying rack.  Clothes too.  There's something special about not having to pull clean dry clothing out of crumpled balls, and try to fold them.

I was purchasing organic dish washing machine soap for a while, and made it halfway through the bottle before my glasses were so milky/cruddy I feared the machine was on the fritze.

I purchased the Cascade Actionpacs, with 16X the cleaning power, and glasses are crystal clear again.   

I've been flushing the toilet with brown water from the bathwater, which is also very satisfying.

The moss is amazing, and thick.  I'm looking forward to having more fun playing in it this Spring.   It's windy today.  And chilly. 

Oldest dd will spend the weekend with friends at their college.  That's a six hour drive to drop her, and a six hour drive to pick her up.  I'm looking forward to touring the campus, then splitting.   Youngest has a very full schedule, so will be busy at home.  Her newly formed band is playing PAINT IT BLACK at a club Saturday night, then I'm back in the car on Sunday.  I'll let you guys know how the gig goes; )

Lighter

   

[Hopalong]

[moved this over from Tupp's Dark Side thread]

I'm really glad you decided to be loving to your Aunt, Lighter. Kindness never backfires, and sacrificing some bully-bonding with Uncle is so worth it.

I think you've had to deal with a lot in life through warrior forcefulness. Yet it sounds as though your Aunt was just feeling sad and overlooked. The teasing and jabs and jibes aren't her language. She's way overpowered. Yet there's nothing condescending about kindness. Your Uncle may be smarter and sharper. But perhaps there's a deeper heart than you've been noticing in her. Maybe all in all, her vulnerability doesn't make her a lesser person. Just someone who needs more cherishing.

We all do. And you deserve it too. Not because you can out-strategize, outwit, out-lead or out-fight others. Just because you're you, and you deserve real love. Not confusing toxic stuff. The real thing. You don't have to earn it, win it, or know a secret brain formula for how to get it. You can have it right now if you give it to yourself. You will. One day you'll wake up with gentle compassion and affection for yourself, the little girl within you, suffusing your whole self. It'll be beautiful

Hugs
Hops