Awkward, Not Awful

“What would it take,” she asked me, “to be comfortable there?”

She was referring to an awkward and complex relationship I’m in.

I think it’s obvious, the work will have to be internal. I can’t expect the people around me to change. Not everyone thinks like I do, or communicates in the same way or likes the same level and color of light in a room or has the same beliefs or interests as I. No one even agrees on what to eat . I can’t expect the world out there to micro-adjust to suit me. No way. If I want to be comfortable, I have to be able to adapt.

So what would it take?

I’d have to find reliable ways to ground and center myself. As it is now it is easy to throw me off balance. The work has to be done inside my own skin.

I need to be agile enough to adapt to different physiological and psychological states. I need to know that no matter which side of my toast I butter, I am still a whole human who has a right to exist regardless of what is going on. (I won’t complicate this by bringing up the fact that we probably can’t be ourselves without interacting with others)

But I need to validate my existence independent of what others think of me.

That means I have to trust my ability to interpret cues from the environment and reject the things that threaten my core values while accepting the things that nurture me. So if so and so says, “Try this Fire Sauce on your vegan eggs” and I don’t like it, I don’t have to worry that the sky will fall. I need to speak up for myself without trying to push my values onto another person.

That means, of course, that I have to know what my core values are.

I’d need to go deep into the part of myself that simply hums I am and figure out what matters to me. That way I won’t be teetering back and forth, buffetted by the changing opinions of others lke a like a wobbling Weeble.

And I’d have to remember that no matter how centered and balanced I am in one moment I may be thrown off in the next and that it’s no big deal. In time I’ll recover; wth practice, I’ll recover faster.

Right now I don’t handle change well, nor do I accept spoken or unspoken criticism without feeling like a total loser and giving up. But thanks to my friend’s insightful question, I know how to work on the lines of communication, at least I know what my own strengths and weakness are and I’m willing to believe there is a better way to be in relationship with others.

I proceed with hopeful caution, one step at a time.


Turmoil surrounds you like a mote around a castle.

I can’t get close.

Permission to speak freely?

I don’t think so.

Not on the shaky bridge between us.

I lose my footing.

And I’ve lost my voice.

What did you lose?

What devastating loss caused you to dig a mote in the first place and then fill it up with tears?

Come To My Senses

I am choosing to get out of my head and come back to my senses.

What are my senses telling me? What messages are overrided because I think I already know all there is to know about a thing, or even about myself?

Of course I can’t dismiss the cranial processing of what my senses gather, but very often there is a short circuit between what I see, feel, smell, touch, and taste and what I think about the information and experiences I gather from my interactions with the environment.

So, today, at least for a little while I am going to come to my senses with an open mind and let curiosity rather than expediency guide the interpretations of all the sensory data I gather as I go about my day.

For example, right now there is cramping in my thighs because I’ve been sitting in a awkward, toes curled under position while I write. I’m wondering if a nice stretch is in order before I charge off to a new task. And my coffee tastes as good as it smelled while it was brewing; I think I’ll have another cup.

What will my day be like with fully engaged senses?

What sense will I make of it all?