There seem to be an abundance of great retreats being hosted at the moment, and it makes my heart sing to see women sitting in more and more circles, connecting and awakening to the depth of their own souls.
My longtime medicine teacher gathers a group in the mountains once a year and I've missed the last few. So this time, dearest husband stayed five minutes from camp (thanks to Amazing Diane) and I was able to participate while he and the wees explored mountain tops nearby. Isn't it so good to have deep friends and rich nature all in one weekend? *happy sigh*
These are the times when I put myself on the hook to try to find the hang ups that prevent me from creating peace in my life. Between the dreams, readings, healings, drumming, dancing, yoga, meditation, and time spent alone in the woods, it's impossible not to go into deep reflection. This is what I love about retreat, the renewal and enlivenment of spirit that one can come home with.
What came up for me, as I was flitting between activities and opting out of others in favor of getting outside to breathe the air of my favorite pines, is that... I am addicted to overwhelm. {stomach heave}
Here's what it looks like:
I tend to run myself a little bit late, and then I am flustered when I get to where I'm going. I fill my calendar just a little too full, spread myself to those in need a bit too thin, and therefore operate under a pattern of stress with all of the nasty sidecars: suppressed immunity, few emotional reserves, able to go short distances but wear out when endurance is needed. I can seriously make any easy task into a tragedy if I'm unaware. It's not easy to admit this because now I have to do something about it. Shit!
Having children has made this pattern seem justifiable. Friends say things like, "You're under rested, you're a new mom! Of course you're only operating on half a brain!" Implying that the reddish-black circles under my eyes are all perfectly normal. The truth is that this was going on long before kids came into my life, but I was able to collapse for three days at a time if needed, or be sick, etc., stealthily hiding my *habit* a bit.
Being addicted to overwhelm feels victimy to me when I hold it up to the light. (There's that message again). I don't feel that I'm proficient about making decisions that are grounded in self care. I'm determined to find a way to turn it around. I feel a responsibility, not only to myself, to be able to teach Miles and Ivy how to honor and take care of themselves.
These are my lessons. All mixed up in a big soup with my joy, my love and my offerings to you.
