Month: September 2015

Curiosity Killed The Cat

It’s happening now.

Wave after wave of fear, grief, and hopelessness.  I tried to make them stop, slow them down, change them. I even turned on Comedy Central’s roast of Justin Bieber. Nothing. I can’t catch my breath.

I am told not to try to change it. Instead, observe it, non-judgmentally, with curiosity, blah, blah, blah.

Curiosity killed the cat. I like cats.

What choice do I have? If I continue this life, seeking escape from my despair, I will constantly seek escape. I may be sober from alcohol, drugs, binging/purging/starving/acting-out – I could still run away, play hours of online solitaire, watch marathons of Law and Order, or binge shop on imperishable consumables like toilet paper.  But I am paying someone 100 dollars a week to help me be more curious about my suffering. I tell him that I have intense desires to disappear, and he will say “Isn’t that fascinating!” and I reply “F-you.” It’s a reluctant “F-you” because I want his help.

I desire life, even just a little sometimes, but it’s an enduring desire.

On Facebook I saw an ad for Udemy; they are offering a “Learn The Freedom To Choose Something Different” workshop by Pema Chodron.  If I could choose something different, I would. It seems I am supposed to feel this in order to heal. Choosing healing is something different than running away. This advertisement features a quote by Pema: “Fear is a natural reaction to moving closer to the truth.” I must be moving closer to the truth.

There is a saying in AA – This Too Shall Pass. Everything passes. Then it comes around again, and leaves. Like in-laws, or clouds, or ice cream. It all happens in a moment that I can not hold.  Time will not be held, and ice cream will melt.

My brain hurts.  My body wants to go to the floor and curl under the floorboards, be part of the earth, my tears her fertilizer.  That last part is a bit…histrionic.

I know this evening will move on, and I will be grateful that I lived it. This is key to survival – understanding and accepting the impermanence of life. Yes, it means death – my greatest fear – eventually. But it also means the sensations of anxiety, grief, and hopelessness will not stay in the foreground forever. Impermanence means hope. I don’t mean hope in an afterlife, but hope in this life.

I am aware of my privilege. I get to experience the sorrow of living. I get to know my fears. I get to grieve the loss of the innocence I never felt.

I am here.

And cats have nine lives.

Maybe I should look into that workshop…

Much Love,

Erliss

Who is Erliss, The Monkey Whisperer?

I was born in the year of the monkey. This should make me an upbeat, happy-go-lucky sort of gal. I am grateful – I have been clean and sober since age 16. I work a couple of 12 step programs, have a Masters degree in music performance and a Master of Divinity degree. I am  ordained. I love people, I love silliness, I love laughter. I will do anything to make a child giggle.

But I have depression, post traumatic stress disorder, anxiety and other issues that make it difficult to experience joy, or to feel…my self. From ages 13 to 25 I was hospitalized 10 times for suicide attempts, drug and alcohol abuse, eating disorders, and just losing my mind. I have never been quite “right.”  Every day I still wander close to the borderlands.

For the sake of clarity, I am committed to life. I do not write this blog so that you can read my downhill decline to the depths of Sheol, never to return.  I write this to give voice to the suffering, for those who struggle every day to choose life. I write in memory and honor of the girls and boys, men and women, whose choices were taken from them, who could not feel the life force breathing through them anymore, whose pain and fear were too heavy a burden.

And I write for myself. I am anonymous so I can be honest. I am attempting to feel the moments – the stabbing pains of grief, the sensations of losing my breath, the urges to self-injure or will myself dead, and the wondering if I am maybe already…gone. I am told our traumas often live (and re-live) in our bodies; I hope that my body will process what it needs to be…well, to be.

I know there are others who experience similar pangs. I encourage you to be curious about your self, even your suffering. Hold your pain like a screaming newborn. And when she is too heavy, too loud, let someone you trust take over. If a newborn baby doesn’t work for you, how about a kitten or a puppy or…a newborn monkey.  They are cute even when they misbehave, and everyone loves them.

Much love,

Erliss, The Monkey Whisperer