Choosing the Right Connections

Stressed out people often have an unmet hunger for connection, and may go looking for connection in inappropriate places. Sometimes, it's all about availability. Other times, we are not making wise choices. Who knows all the reasons we settle for relationships that do not satisfy our need for trust and authenticity?

Here are some signs to look out for:

1. If you keep asking yourself, "Am I crazy or is this inappropriate/wrong, etc.?" Find trusted advisors for a reality check, but chances are, if you are feeling crazy, someone may be gaslighting you. (Gaslighting - when someone persistently puts forth a false narrative so that you will doubt your own perceptions.)

2. If you feel "not enough." None of us are enough; we are not supposed to be enough. We are fully human. If other people keep sending you the message that you are not enough, you need new peeps! Who are our people? People who see our flaws, weaknesses and insecurities and love us because of them! Our people are the ones who do not expect us to "meet expectations." Our people are not in denial, they are just not demanding. Find your people!!

3. If you are sad. Sadness is the canary in the tunnel we watch out for. Sadness is the signal that we need to reach out and grab a hand for support.

4. If you are filled with rage. Rage is telling us to pay attention. Instead of using it for evil, find people who can help you use it for fuel to create safety and security for yourself or others.

The Body Remembers But so Does the Soul

A month or so ago I went looking on Facebook for a young man by the name of Andy Higgins. He was on my mind; I do not know why. I found him but his page was scanty. I wondered how he was and I so wished that he had found an amazing life as an artist or inventor or solver-of-complex-problems that the rest of the world ignored. I taught him in preschool when he was four years old. He stole my heart. I've got a thing, evidently, for folks who do not conform to norms.

Andy was one of those kids. He loved art AND only used black paint. He was intensely focused which meant I had to have an eye in the back of my head when he was at the easel. If I didn't pay attention, Andy in his zone would paint his paper, then the easel and move onto the floor - he was so entranced with the idea that a good coat of black paint can turn any object into art. He was not a fan of groups or singing silly preschool songs. Together we learned he could tolerate story time so long as he was allowed to listen from underneath the piano. I think Andy tolerated a lot in his little preschool body, putting up with the rest of us who did not see the world exactly as he could.

Yesterday, at the age of 43, my beloved "little guy" passed away from a heart attack. I had not seen him since he was a kid, but he is stuck to my heart by gorilla glue. And I am so deeply, profoundly sad at his passing. I felt guilty for feeling so sad for the loss of a life I had not interacted with in over 20 years. His family suffers and that makes sense. Do I have any right to share in the sadness? My sad body, our sad bodies, are doing nothing wrong. They are remembering things lost. When sadness rolls in like a mighty tsunami, consider this mindset: to mourn what is lost we must first have appreciated its presence. And it's ok to not super spiritualize the experience of our memories or judge the validity of our response or even put a statute of limitations on how long we have to love someone to mourn them. We can just be sad.

Complicated grief, getting stuck in sad, is uncomfortable for both the sufferer and those who love them. Eventually, some day, no rush...but eventually our soul can provide us a pathway through our sadness. It does not eliminate the sadness for me, but it informs it. We're going to talk about that this month, sort of.