Alexis Rose's Blog, page 9

Comfortably Uncomfortable

I am comfortably uncomfortable in this place of “knowing.”

Listening to the certainty that after a year of stasis, positive change is happening.

Trusting; comfortably uncomfortable resting in trust.

Pressing the pause button so I slowed down.  Uncomfortable as that is.

After stepping into a vortex of pushing beyond what’s healthy for me, hearing the words of lifelong friends truthfully saying to me, “you know your limitations and it’s okay.”

Knowing that it takes a long time to practice acceptance and self-compassion. That each day that I uncomfortably go there, I rewire my active lizard brain, contracted muscles, and tattered soul.

Mindfully taking the time to be active, to rest, to play, to listen, or to just be with no judgment.

I have developed a great amount of patience. I welcome the reality that right now I really do trust that all will be okay, and the season of stasis is coming to an end. And in that trust, while waiting, I am comfortably uncomfortable.

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Photo by Marc-Antoine Dépelteau on Unsplash


Thank you for reading my books:  If I Could Tell You How It Feels , and Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph      

The angel who rests in the arms of the tree

Frozen in place by the chill of the night

the snow angel rests in the arms of the tree.

Gazing at her I wondered

Is she cold like me?

Are her insides in knots?

Does she worry if the sun will release her so she can fly away free?

Then I noticed that she was relaxed

trusting in the strength of the tree.

She lay there, face open, aimed at the sky

soaking in the beams of the sun.

I internalized how mindfully this angel rests

knowing she is protected

by the deer, the fox, and the tiger

protective and kind

gentle yet fierce.

In an awakened instant

I understood

that although she is frozen by the chill of the night

this is her time to rest.

I knew that just like the intense springtime sun

relief is actively occurring

melting my gridlocked existence of powerlessness away.

I hear in the depth of my soul, “All will be okay, soon!”

Walking away I knew that the time to trust is now

that the freedom to fly is just a snow-melt away.

Turning back to the angel who rests in the arms of the tree

I thanked her

for the gift of hope

a moment of peace

of unveiled clarity.

I think I saw the light shine brighter on her upturned face…

or was it the light shining brighter on me?

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©Alexis Rose, photo: Janet Rosauer

Thank you for reading my books: If I Could Tell You How It Feels, and Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph      

Her Present Needed Her Past

The door heaved open

exposing the dark, dusty gloom of the past.

Walking into each room

the light began to pour in

from all the love she feels in the present.

The past and the present began to live together.

Sometimes contentious, but with a newly learned respect.

Intuitively, she knew her present needed her past

so she could learn, change and grow.

As a new season begins

she holds hands with her past, lives in the present, and rests.

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©Alexis Rose, photographer: Janet Rosauer

Thank you for reading my books: If I Could Tell You How It Feels, and Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph      

 

“We Got This!”

“We got this,” were the most important, comforting and powerful words I have heard in a long time.  Right before they were spoken to me, I was feeling panicked. Wondering how I was going to have the strength, to get through the next moment, let alone the next day. I didn’t know how I was going to muster up the courage to face the pain of an original wound, while at the same time deciding if it’s safe for me to break the code of silence that is still deeply ingrained in my psyche.

On that cold and snowy afternoon,  as I was getting ready to leave my therapist’s office, a sense of panic overwhelmed me. Not only panic of what I was facing but the panic of attachment. I feared I would be too much for her, that she would bail, that she would panic and become frightened by what she was hearing. But then something completely unexpected happened. In a calm and reassuring voice, my therapist said, “We Got This!” Those words landed layers deep and made all the negative self-talk dissipate. Those three little words hit me with the softness of the kindest hug and the safety of the bravest shield and I believed her the moment she said them to me.

I still feel like I have to fight for my life, my mental health, and for the freedom from the skeleton hands of the past that keep trying to pull me down. I understand that the hard work of healing happens when I get home; between therapy sessions. Processing what was talked about, incorporating the tools for distress tolerance, trying to feel safe enough to just-sit with it all, while also managing my symptoms of PTSD often feels like a full-time job. That’s okay! I’m more than willing to do the things I need to do so I can live the life I want to live.

Since that day, I have been able to trust that I can handle this new step on my journey. Even though I feel like the ground beneath me is a bit wobbly, I can walk with my head up, eyes forward. I know if I stumble, panic, or feel the sour breath of the monsters, that, with help, I will keep moving forward.

I don’t know what sort of challenges I will be facing as I work to heal this wound that’s ready to be acknowledged. But I do know that with acceptance, self-compassion, and support, I will be able to work through whatever is next. How do I know? Because “We Got This!”

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Thank you for reading my books: If I Could Tell You How It Feels, and Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph      

Pondering at 3 a.m.

At 3 a.m. this morning I was pondering the following…

Sitting at a crossroads. Your world has just crashed down around you. When the dust settles there has emerged two big shards that resemble paths. Each one reveals a choice.

One shard shines brightly in the middle to far distance. It offers a promise of a life well lived. Growth, change, showing up as your true authentic self. Vulnerable but with solid boundaries.

Although bright, those shards are extremely sharp, full of splinters and require conscious navigation. To pick that one requires hard work. Knowing with that commitment to do the work you will feel suffering. It’s painful as you look at things head-on and then do what is required to live the life you want to live. To be the person you want to be.

The other shard is smoother. Worn down to a pleasant sheen, some rough splinters, but they are easy to spot. That path entices you with the status quo. The worn out cushion and pillow that provides the comfort of sameness. The only work it requires if you choose it is that you’ll experience life as you know it. That can also be painful because you have chosen to commit to the way things are in your life.  You choose this because your habits, even if destructive at times can be comforting, even if the comfort is only for a moment.

Change can be scary. For some its that fear that keeps them comfortable in staying the course. Not easy, but comfortable. The habits of the mind, body, and soul are hard to break.

But, maybe behind you in the distance, a third shard has fallen and the crossroads has now offered another choice. Maybe there is a grayer, hazier choice. It has both the sharp shards of change to navigate and the rounder smoother call of status quo. Perhaps a middle way.

Could that be a possibility?  Maybe that’s the path that is more realistic and recognizes the personness in all of us? Perhaps, in reality, that is the path most of us are on. Weaving in and out of the need to change and the pull of status quo.

Maybe we don’t need to pick one or the other. Perhaps we pick all three of them. Take the time to rest on each one, to recognize our growth and reassess what and if we need to change.

I don’t know the answers…after all, it’s 3 a.m. and I probably should be sleeping.

When you experience your crossroads, which path do you choose? Or are you a traveler in life who can navigate all three?

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image source: Pexels

Thank you for reading my books: If I Could Tell You How It Feels, and Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph      

Just do your best; You’ll find your how!

Change is a fact of life. Our bodies change, as do our cognitive abilities. Sometimes we embrace change, but sometimes change can be frightening. The fear of the unknown and the anticipation of what might be can be paralyzing; the feeling of vulnerability can prevent us from moving forward.

A few of my friends, including myself, have been going through significant grief, loss, and change the past year. Loss of many kinds, including illness, financial upheaval, deaths of loved ones, and watching how a progressive illness affects a family. We are also navigating aging in a society where becoming a woman of a certain age can make you feel irrelevant. Big.Tough.Stuff!

As I was talking with a friend yesterday, who was extremely distressed, I found the best thing I could do was to silently offer myself as her mirror. The grief and fear she is experiencing are (appropriately) palpable, but she is also doing some wonderful things both for herself and the community. Personal growth, and being of service to others is one of the constants in this person’s day-to-day life.

Sometimes, in the muck and mire of what life throws at us, we forget to see, and often don’t acknowledge that what we do, and who we are matters.

I go through feelings of irrelevance and self-doubt a lot. Especially when I can feel I am on the cusp of change. Right now, I have hit the pause button on many outside activities in my life. As I work to reconnect with myself; my center, I notice that my interests are heading in a different direction than they have been the past few years. That’s a natural progression for me, as I learn and grow. But, it’s also a bit scary. Although I still could be quite satisfied with the path I have been on, I’m also anxious to listen to what it is I may want to do next.

I find right now, that I am feeling the wind of change calling to me. Just as I was purposefully trying to be a mirror for my friend yesterday, I find I’m also seeking out the mirrors in my life. The ones who reflect back who I am without any masks. The person I have been working hard to become, without feeling shame, the need for perfection or control, but who can also firmly set personal boundaries.

As my friend and I were talking, she was describing to me an intensive class she will soon be taking. I started to think about the things I’m willing to let go of now, and the absolute openness of what will come next. Both of us began to get a bit stressed and animated over the, “how are we going to get through this?”

As my friend got up to grab some water, out of my mouth, from somewhere in that wise-mind of mine, I heard myself say the words, “Just do your best – You’ll find the how!”

I really believe those words were just a random thought that was passing by, but the words came out. We stared at each other in silence, stunned into the connectedness of knowing that it will be okay.

What happened next? We sat quietly next to each other, understanding that with change comes uncertainty. But that uncertainty only requires us to do our best, and trust that the how will reveal itself in its own perfect timing.

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Photo by Mārtiņš Zemlickis on Unsplash

 

Thank you for reading my books: If I Could Tell You How It Feels, and Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph      

 

 

Plasticine Arms and Butterfly Wings

Made of wire

covered by plasticine

she moves through the world

with awkward grace.

For decades, inside the sturdy sculpture

sits the child; head down, hands wrapped around her knees

she begins to awaken.

The scar tissue that solidly formed

and held her in place

weakens and gives way.

Lifting her head

she unfurls her arms from her knees

and sees that translucent butterfly wings

have taken the place of limbs

that atrophied long ago.

On wobbly legs, the child stands

and breaks all but one of the sinewy tendrils that were holding her down.

Moving to the edge of the wire

she calls and gently flaps her wings

capturing the attention of the figure

made of wire.

Plasticine arms instintively

touch the spot where the dormant child

lived in dark solitude.

Both fear, and confusion begin to emanate

off the plastic arms and beautiful wings.

A sense of hope further weakens the wire

fueling the possibility of

wholeness, worthiness, and love.

Can the two become one?

Can the wire and plastic melt

into the flesh of humanness?

The child held down by that

last remaining chain

quietly sighs.

But, something has changed

There is a shift

and both the fearless child butterfly

and the awkwardly graceful plasticine adult

know that it is only a matter of time

before they are transformed and become one.

Like a phoenix, they will sit upon their tiger

let the hot sun melt away even more of yesterday’s pain

and live harmoniously, seamlessly, together as one.

[image error]©Alexis Rose, image source: Pixabay

Thank you for reading my books: If I Could Tell You How It Feels, and Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph    

 

She Dances the Steps of Innocence

As she dances the steps

of beauty and innocence

even the waves and birds

stop and watch in awe. 

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©collaboration, Of Earth and Sky: Alexis Rose, Photographer: Shelley Bauer

Thank you for reading my books: If I Could Tell You How It Feels, and Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph    

 

 

My PTSD – A Poem

Like so many others who live with PTSD or other chronic illness, people often ask me, “What does it feel like?”

My PTSD 

It doesn’t matter if it’s cold, hot, sunny, snowing  or raining

There is no telling when it’s going to strike.

Are they alive or dead?

Is that pain real or echoes from pain long ago that

Resurface with a memory?

It’s like being held hostage by your mind

Thinking that today would be the day I am free.

I look like everyone else

I know the difference between right and wrong.

Yet in my head, I sometimes can’t remember

The last ten minutes of my life, or what day, year or time it is.

Are those smells real or is that a smell from a place and time

when I was being held against my will.

Am I really hearing the sounds of helicopters, planes, cicadas or birds

Or it that the sound coming from a place that no longer exists and

Should never be talked about?

I want so much to be like everyone else.

So I will keep pulling myself up the rope,

Out of the clutches of PTSD and all the skeleton hands of the past that

Keep trying to pull me down.

I am like everyone else only my job is to live so I can live.

For now, that’s all I can ask of myself if I am going to have a future.

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©Alexis Rose, photo: pixabay

Thank you for reading my books: If I Could Tell You How It Feels, and Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph    

 

Where Do You Get Your Oxygen From?

She is the embodiment

of the questions we pondered

on a sunny afternoon.

Knowing the hype of the

newest workshop and buzzwords

would all have their moment in time

we asked each other, What Comes Next?

What is…

The driver of contentment?

The reason to try one more day?

The song we sing to our inner-self?

With quiet wisdom, and wonderous curiosity

she asked, “Where Do We Get Our Oxygen From?”

Today I danced as if it was warm and sunny outside

As if the world can someday be just, fair and peaceful for All

Believing that alone and collectively we make a difference

to ourselves, our neighbors, and our world.

Smiling huge and with a nod to the snowbirds

soaring above me on this winter’s day

my thoughts went to my teacher, my friend

I thought back to that moment when she asked

“Where do we get our Oxygen from?”

And I answered aloud to that clear blue sky

I get my oxygen from

Love

Health

Family

Friendship

Kindness

Hope

Trust

Honesty

Laughter

Dance

Breath…Life

And I know without a doubt that my friend, my teacher

would look at all who reads/or hears this poem

and ask

“Where Do You Get Your Oxygen From?”

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©Where do you get your Oxygen From, (A poem for Rosy) by Alexis Rose