It's now been about 3.5 months since I moved to San Francisco so the space is emerging for me to reflect on the (unexpected) shock of landing on the West Coast.
When Ilya and I decided to move it all happened fast...we packed up our lives in six weeks. I thought we'd just transplant and I'd continue my life and business where I left off. No problem.
Instead I arrived in California and woke up the next morning feeling so disoriented that I wanted to jump out of my body.
Looking through the stacks of boxes I could see life outside my window. People going to work... cars zooming by. The day was sunny and I felt mocked by its beauty. I felt like double crap...because everything else seemed to shine.
There was no food in the fridge. Seamless in San Francisco isn't as seamless as it is in New York (uhhh, delivery charge and it takes an hour!). I was hungry. And I had to go out for food. I had to face streets unknown, grocery aisles anew, and people from a different land.
I thought to myself, "Stella, step out, explore! Find a new place to eat." And then, I thought, "Fuck you. I don't want to explore. Why is this feeling so difficult. Shouldn't this be exciting?!"
I spotted a taco place that looked cool. It was lunch time. I walked in and it was buzzing. Mexican women authoritatively commanded one to report their order fast. Start-up dudes waited in line, elbowing each other, laughing, talking about selling their third business for lots of zeros. Sports were on one tv, news on the other. It seemed so loud, so busy (hellooo, spoken from a woman who lived 6 blocks from Times Square). Everyone seemed in on a way of being that I was not.
Suddenly I felt like the new girl. I felt like I was 9 again, and just moved to New Jersey from Texas. Everyone and everything felt intimidating. I didn't know what kind of tacos I wanted! I didn't want to sit by myself! I didn't want to watch sports!
"What's happening to me?" I panicked. "Come on Stella - are you seriously afraid to sit down here? Who are you Stella? What's wrong with you?" I turned around and left quickly. I got some takeout next door and practically ran home to cry.
That instance wasn't about the taco shop, it wasn't about California, it wasn't about my confidence. It was about being in the process of releasing all that I knew and saying, "welcome," to the unknown packaged in way I would have never consciously asked for but actually had been asking for all along. I was experiencing pure creation and at the beginning of a new adventure.
To be continued...
Showing posts with label loss. Show all posts
Showing posts with label loss. Show all posts
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Friday, January 14, 2011
For Penis People, Too
In the book, The Heroine's Journey, Maureen Murdoch describes women's process to rediscovering and owning their Feminine. I'm not talking wearing mascara here, I'm talking being hard-core in touch with what makes females different from those with a penis.
The book is a bit much for me at times, but usually when that happens, I know there's some wisdom. One of the biggest take-away's I got from this book was language to describe the intangible process of growth - and the uncertainty, discomfort, and all-that-jazz that comes with it.
Sometimes, the most profound or liberating experience is not the experience itself, but discovering the words to that experience. This means what our subconscious knows, pops to the forefront into our conscious in a rational way, in a code we can understand. It's "AHA! That's what was going on." Having language for something not only helps one integrate one's own stuff, but it also makes it easier for us to empathize with others, relate, and help them unlock the truth of their journey as well.
The language that clicked for me when reading Murdoch's books is: Hold the tension.
Hold the tension means you are courageously standing in a state of in-between. You are on your way towards something new and better but meanwhile, may be in the dark, shivering, chilled to the bone.
Hold the tension means you trust that beyond the point where you can see, there is growth and greatness.
Hold the tension means that you don't just "get over it" or "ignore" your current reality, you let it massage you until a new you is released.
Hold the tension is not passive in the least - it's active acceptance of the NOW.
Hold the tension is that annoying state that people often describe as "you gotta be uncomfortable to grow."
Holding the tension is also about patience and healing without judging. Right now I have a cold. I can't sleep. Sure, it sucks. Sure, I'm doing what I can, but I'm also relinquishing to my body to do what it's got to do. I'm not judging or bitching (fine, maybe just a few grumbles to myself)
While holding the tension can feel a bit tortuous, it's for your long term good. It's like the discomfort of doing a detox cleanse, or navigating the terrain of a budding relationship, or not eating that chocolate cake despite every cell in your body saying "I want you."
Therefore, Hold the tension applies to transformational growth in addition to the mundane.
Hold the tension is a brave surrender to "everything will be okay." Even though right now things feel uncertain, uncomfortable, painful, or whatever.
Here's the final kicker - whether you want to do it or not, holding the tension is something you can't avoid. Sure you might be in denial, avoiding, regressing to old patterns or whatever for now - but whether you want to or not - experiences will most likely continue to surface demanding this state from you, demanding you to be a better you.
Here's to all you courageous people!
Best
S
The book is a bit much for me at times, but usually when that happens, I know there's some wisdom. One of the biggest take-away's I got from this book was language to describe the intangible process of growth - and the uncertainty, discomfort, and all-that-jazz that comes with it.
Sometimes, the most profound or liberating experience is not the experience itself, but discovering the words to that experience. This means what our subconscious knows, pops to the forefront into our conscious in a rational way, in a code we can understand. It's "AHA! That's what was going on." Having language for something not only helps one integrate one's own stuff, but it also makes it easier for us to empathize with others, relate, and help them unlock the truth of their journey as well.
The language that clicked for me when reading Murdoch's books is: Hold the tension.
Hold the tension means you are courageously standing in a state of in-between. You are on your way towards something new and better but meanwhile, may be in the dark, shivering, chilled to the bone.
Hold the tension means you trust that beyond the point where you can see, there is growth and greatness.
Hold the tension means that you don't just "get over it" or "ignore" your current reality, you let it massage you until a new you is released.
Hold the tension is not passive in the least - it's active acceptance of the NOW.
Hold the tension is that annoying state that people often describe as "you gotta be uncomfortable to grow."
Holding the tension is also about patience and healing without judging. Right now I have a cold. I can't sleep. Sure, it sucks. Sure, I'm doing what I can, but I'm also relinquishing to my body to do what it's got to do. I'm not judging or bitching (fine, maybe just a few grumbles to myself)
While holding the tension can feel a bit tortuous, it's for your long term good. It's like the discomfort of doing a detox cleanse, or navigating the terrain of a budding relationship, or not eating that chocolate cake despite every cell in your body saying "I want you."
Therefore, Hold the tension applies to transformational growth in addition to the mundane.
Hold the tension is a brave surrender to "everything will be okay." Even though right now things feel uncertain, uncomfortable, painful, or whatever.
Here's the final kicker - whether you want to do it or not, holding the tension is something you can't avoid. Sure you might be in denial, avoiding, regressing to old patterns or whatever for now - but whether you want to or not - experiences will most likely continue to surface demanding this state from you, demanding you to be a better you.
Here's to all you courageous people!
Best
S
Monday, December 27, 2010
How Relaxation is like Grief (Don't worry, it's all good)
If there is one thing that 2010 has taught me, it's how to respect the rest. How to honor the process of relaxation. This lesson comes on the heels of 2009, a year that was all about loss (a few relationships, some financial investments, and my vision of what I'd be by 30 (I'm still not 30)). Of course, all happens for the best, and both these challenging years have catapulted my growth as a human being unlike any other. Interestingly, I've realized that both relaxation and loss have a lot in common (at least for me).
Bear with me here...I haven't totally worked all the logic. But here are some parallels and some intersections I've noticed between the two.
1. In the most positive sense, loss is about letting go (again, I'm only speaking from my personal experience, so some of this may not feel right for you, esp if you're in the midst of it). Most of the time we don't choose to lose because it's painful.
2. But, in the end, in loss, we grow. Be it through its lessons, or the space it creates for newness, we are usually not less, but more because of our loss.
3. Relaxation, literally, is about releasing. It's about letting go. For me personally, my journey to really relax (and I mean beyond a massage) but to relax so I feel every cell in my body dance with ease, joy, lightness, looseness - this type of relaxation, getting there, is messy. Think about when you go on vacation, it usually takes a few days to get into a different rhythm right?
4. When we are relaxed, we are open, we are positive, and this yields growth. When we are stressed we're in fight or flight. This means our focus is narrowed, we are less likely to take on challenges, we are less social, and so on. Relaxation means we're in flow with the universe and can find treasures in the second.
Not sure I'm making sense but will continue...
This year was a biggie for me. Lots of things I'm proud of...lots that kept me busy...such as: finishing my masters, creating one of the largest conferences for women entrepreneurs, and moving into a new home in NYC. All this kept me plenty tense and taking time to chill actually felt bad. Even though I knew it was good for me. It got a little ugly.
If I were to paint a picture of Stella trying (in process to) relaxing it would be a flurry of stuff: I'd be wrestling a force, blindfolded, unable to see, tumbling around in a room that looks like home but is completely unfamiliar to me. I'd be hot and cold. I'd be uncomfortable. I'd be guilty and lustful, pure and clear. I'd be fidgety and still. I'd be bouncing between Heaven and Hell. I'd be black and white. I'd be depicted as confused and disoriented, yet in the perfect place. I'd be wriggling around, like a round peg in a round hole thinking it's a square. Not very relaxing is it?
But what I learned this year, and just realized about 15 minutes ago, is that achieving relaxation (especially during intense times) take time. On Saturday mornings, for example, when considering my day blocked off for nothingness, I'd begin to feel panic or guilt about all the things I could be doing, should be doing, people I could be with - I'd go through a process similar to the stages of grief- until, at last, with time, and through the journey, kicking and screaming, and with the coaxing of good friends, I'd achieve acceptance, release, and stillness.
Five Stages Of Grief (source: MHMatters) and Maybe Relaxation
1. Denial and Isolation.
-At first, we tend to deny the loss has taken place, and may withdraw from our usual social contacts. This stage may last a few moments, or longer.
-At first, I tend to deny that I'm as stressed as I am or that I really need to chill. I also, at the same time, feel the need to isolate. Hide under the covers. And turn off all communication devices.
2. Anger.
-The grieving person may then be furious at the person who inflicted the hurt (even if she's dead), or at the world, for letting it happen. He may be angry with himself for letting the event take place, even if, realistically, nothing could have stopped it.
-Yep, I'm usually angry at myself for letting myself get to this state. Stella, why don't you take steps to prevent this? You shouldn't be working so hard.
3. Bargaining.
-Now the grieving person may make bargains with God, asking, "If I do this, will you take away the loss?"
-"God, please help me. I'm exhausted! But I have so much to do. So I'll just take this time to chill because a) I deserve it and b)I promise to be more productive tomorrow."
4. Depression.
-The person feels numb, although anger and sadness may remain underneath.
-"Shit. Isn't this supposed to feel good and fun? I'm bored. Why am I spending this time debating whether what I'm doing is what I should be doing or rewarding enough?"
5. Acceptance.
-This is when the anger, sadness and mourning have tapered off. The person simply accepts the reality of the loss.
-"Okay, I'm feeling the blood come back to my soul. Ahhh, yes. This is what it feels like. Normal. Balanced. I just needed time."
Hope some that of made sense. And that it was positive.
Happy New Year!
S
Bear with me here...I haven't totally worked all the logic. But here are some parallels and some intersections I've noticed between the two.
1. In the most positive sense, loss is about letting go (again, I'm only speaking from my personal experience, so some of this may not feel right for you, esp if you're in the midst of it). Most of the time we don't choose to lose because it's painful.
2. But, in the end, in loss, we grow. Be it through its lessons, or the space it creates for newness, we are usually not less, but more because of our loss.
3. Relaxation, literally, is about releasing. It's about letting go. For me personally, my journey to really relax (and I mean beyond a massage) but to relax so I feel every cell in my body dance with ease, joy, lightness, looseness - this type of relaxation, getting there, is messy. Think about when you go on vacation, it usually takes a few days to get into a different rhythm right?
4. When we are relaxed, we are open, we are positive, and this yields growth. When we are stressed we're in fight or flight. This means our focus is narrowed, we are less likely to take on challenges, we are less social, and so on. Relaxation means we're in flow with the universe and can find treasures in the second.
Not sure I'm making sense but will continue...
This year was a biggie for me. Lots of things I'm proud of...lots that kept me busy...such as: finishing my masters, creating one of the largest conferences for women entrepreneurs, and moving into a new home in NYC. All this kept me plenty tense and taking time to chill actually felt bad. Even though I knew it was good for me. It got a little ugly.
If I were to paint a picture of Stella trying (in process to) relaxing it would be a flurry of stuff: I'd be wrestling a force, blindfolded, unable to see, tumbling around in a room that looks like home but is completely unfamiliar to me. I'd be hot and cold. I'd be uncomfortable. I'd be guilty and lustful, pure and clear. I'd be fidgety and still. I'd be bouncing between Heaven and Hell. I'd be black and white. I'd be depicted as confused and disoriented, yet in the perfect place. I'd be wriggling around, like a round peg in a round hole thinking it's a square. Not very relaxing is it?
But what I learned this year, and just realized about 15 minutes ago, is that achieving relaxation (especially during intense times) take time. On Saturday mornings, for example, when considering my day blocked off for nothingness, I'd begin to feel panic or guilt about all the things I could be doing, should be doing, people I could be with - I'd go through a process similar to the stages of grief- until, at last, with time, and through the journey, kicking and screaming, and with the coaxing of good friends, I'd achieve acceptance, release, and stillness.
Five Stages Of Grief (source: MHMatters) and Maybe Relaxation
1. Denial and Isolation.
-At first, we tend to deny the loss has taken place, and may withdraw from our usual social contacts. This stage may last a few moments, or longer.
-At first, I tend to deny that I'm as stressed as I am or that I really need to chill. I also, at the same time, feel the need to isolate. Hide under the covers. And turn off all communication devices.
2. Anger.
-The grieving person may then be furious at the person who inflicted the hurt (even if she's dead), or at the world, for letting it happen. He may be angry with himself for letting the event take place, even if, realistically, nothing could have stopped it.
-Yep, I'm usually angry at myself for letting myself get to this state. Stella, why don't you take steps to prevent this? You shouldn't be working so hard.
3. Bargaining.
-Now the grieving person may make bargains with God, asking, "If I do this, will you take away the loss?"
-"God, please help me. I'm exhausted! But I have so much to do. So I'll just take this time to chill because a) I deserve it and b)I promise to be more productive tomorrow."
4. Depression.
-The person feels numb, although anger and sadness may remain underneath.
-"Shit. Isn't this supposed to feel good and fun? I'm bored. Why am I spending this time debating whether what I'm doing is what I should be doing or rewarding enough?"
5. Acceptance.
-This is when the anger, sadness and mourning have tapered off. The person simply accepts the reality of the loss.
-"Okay, I'm feeling the blood come back to my soul. Ahhh, yes. This is what it feels like. Normal. Balanced. I just needed time."
Hope some that of made sense. And that it was positive.
Happy New Year!
S
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