Time Out, Tune In, Turn On

Balboa Press

Contents

About the Author................................................ixPreface.........................................................xiChapter 1: Am I Normal?.........................................1Chapter 2: Dawning..............................................11Chapter 3: Taking Space.........................................17Chapter 4: Letting Out and Letting Go...........................21Chapter 5: Connecting Within....................................27Chapter 6: Surviving............................................31Chapter 7: Learning, Healing, and Growing.......................49Chapter 8: Versatility..........................................65Chapter 9: Embracing Change.....................................77Heart-of-the-Moment Learning Resource...........................93Chapter 10: Introduction........................................95Chapter 11: Reader's Guide......................................99Chapter 12: `Bean' in the Moment................................117Chapter 13: Breaking Free and Becoming..........................135Chapter 14: From Centre Stage to Background.....................153Chapter 15: Sneaky Source of Pain...............................169Chapter 16: Magic Mop...........................................187Chapter 17: Lighter Living......................................207Chapter 18: Smoother Sailing....................................221Chapter 19: Flowing and Fulfilment..............................237Summary.........................................................251Conclusion......................................................253A Quiz for You..................................................257Acknowledgements................................................259Resources.......................................................261

Chapter One

I took great pride in being organised on school mornings. I had finished the lunches, the dishwasher was on, and the clothes were spinning in the machine. I only had to finish a few little things so I said in an upbeat tone, "Let's put our clothes on, polish our teeth, pack our bags, and off we go!" I thought to myself, it is nice when everything flows!

We were so close to making it through the door on time. I cannot recall what happened. Somehow, I found myself sitting at the dining room table, sipping plunger coffee—not because it was hot, but because I was making the most of what I had at the time, even if my coffee was cold! I knew on some level that the caffeine would do the trick!

In all honesty, feeling better afterward had more to do with getting out what I really had to say! This was my journal entry:

Oh, my gosh! Am I normal? The hardest thing I have done in my life is parent and try to do it well!

I thought birth was the hardest thing I would ever have to do as a parent!

I surrendered myself to the universe—if I came through, it was meant to be.

I thought I was going to have a home birth, with every detail etched and a grand visualisation of overall calm and relaxation. Wow, when I look back, we didn't even get the oil burner on! Birth was just full-on entrapment and surrender. Although it felt like eternity, it was only momentary. On the upside, my dire exhaustion was relieved with surgical intervention, and I could rest assured that I only have to go through the birthing experience again if I have another baby!

In giving birth, there was certainly no sagging and swaying of the ups and downs that go on in parenting, fluctuating day-by-day, hour-by-hour, and even minute-by-minute sometimes. This rocky ride is breaking me and I'm exhausted.

There are the good times and great moments—usually fits of laughter or overwhelming tears of joy when an unexpected, heart-warming moment occurs like, "Mummy, I just love you so much!" However, sneaky, creepy, sticky webs of entrapment keep finding their way into my life and causing strife!

I feel like retreating, curling up in a tiny cupboard as an attempt to hide and make the pain go away. However, when I am brave enough to venture out, the icky, sticky threads will still be there and I will have to pick my way through them with fine composure, so they do not constrict and trap me again.

The more I resist or try to reclaim control of my life, the more those threads thicken and multiply. Like twining three spun fibres into a yarn—singularly they pull apart with ease, yet together they hold firm and strong. Only a fully intended, divisive invention will cut them clean.

Perhaps antidepressants might do the trick—flat-line the bottoms and take the edge off the steep, sudden, plummeting valleys of my emotions; maybe even leave a little light on in the room. But would they take the edge off the thrilling highs, the complete joy, and the utter glee that comes from dancing naked to daggy tunes on the keyboard? Or singing full throttle with all sorts of screams as my little one flies off the lounge chair into a nest of cushions on the floor? Would they have nullified the in-the-moment adrenaline rush whilst wiping clean all prior recollections of pain?

I breathe and sigh, gather my will, and gently tease my way out through the web that looms outside the door. At any moment, self-doubt and self-pity make the fibres intensify and block out the light. In darkness there is no nurturing embrace, just silent suffocation. I know I have a strong desire to embrace life so I plead, "It's got to get easier than this!"

My eyes shut tight, teeth clench, and hands clasp my face. I breathe in with restriction and force the air out as I say to myself, "Back I go, back to, back on, back up, and back through." A bit like self-talk, mustering the courage to take the next step. Slowly, I soften and see a dim flicker of light beneath the tiring overlays of my pain. It gives me hope and I decide to make a change—to step up and step out, but not step back this time. I was sure of that.

As waves of light caress me with their gentle, warm glow, I feel support for my desire to create something different. "No, I'm not going back. I just can't do the pain again!" I state out loud, telling the world. It's a gratifying feeling to stand up and say no to this habitual pattern of pain. I am so glad I am here now, realising this and getting it off my chest.

Wise words from the voice of my heart speak with truth and simplicity: "There is another way." I look to the door and the web is gone. I feel myself taking a gentle breath like a soft piece of tissue catching the breeze. This is a nice change!

This moment has finally resolved—it was tricky at first, but now I am at ease. I thought I was living when I focused on industrious goals and achieved them, like studying full-time for eight years, while juggling various part-time jobs—quite often two at a time, or building a private clinical practice from the ground up.

The financial and material wows of my life are dormant at present, a polite way to say, "In dire despair." Yet, I am alive, and that I know! The simplest spark brings immense pleasure, like when my son says, "Brush my teeth, Mummy. No, I'll do it!" Or, "Mummy, I love you, and I forgive you!" even when I'm crouched over in child's pose, cheeks salty from tears, when there was no way out but to cry.

I hadn't laughed so much, so fully from my belly or reshaped so much in my body in the course of four years, until I reached...