Sleeping With Bread

Anger.

Sad.

Fear.

Joy.

Those were the four 'feelings' I got to choose from during the three day training that I attended.  Every morning we were asked to 'check in',  choosing only from those four feeling words to sorta 'inform' others how we were feeling/doing.
I was thrilled, of course.
Thrilled to be doing the training.
Thrilled to be 'checking in' with others that I'm unfamiliar with.
Thrilled to be driving 3 hours at times when deer most like to wander across the road to see what's on the other side.
And thrilled to be getting to do all this--with bronchitis working it's way into the acute stage.
Utterly and completely thrilled.
(Yes, I'm dripping with sarcasm here........)

Every morning I checked in with my 'feelings'......Anger and fear.
Every morning someone tried to 'make it all better'.
Every morning I assured them that they were 'just feelings', that they were 'mine', and that they weren't 'responsible to make it all better' cuz that job is all mine to do.

Every evening someone would look at me and voice confusion on how I could be angry and fearful--and still appear to be having a good time.

*laughing*
(One cannot expect me to be where I'm NOT on one pot of coffee.  Don't get between me and the carafe of coffee and things will get different without any personal damage to YOU.  And second--)
Someone taught me long ago that 'feelings' weren't 'facts', that I could feel what I feel and still be a competent, capable, responsible human being.......in fact they demanded I be.
I wasn't keen on the 'demanding' part, but ah well.......
With lots of time and LOTS of practice--I discovered they were right.
'Feelings' don't get to dictate my actions or become my excuse.
They're 'just feelings'.
And I'm practiced enough to know -- I get to choose.

I did NOT choose joy when I 'checked in'.
It's that simple.

Coulda!
Didn't.

The training was actually very validating and enjoyable.
The people attending were nice enough--eager to learn and very entertaining.
The drive there and back--gorgeous.......brilliant spectrum of colours filling the sky as the sun rose and set.  And I was taken good care of.  Deer crossed unharmed.
The bronchitis edged itself into what it was--cuz that's what bronchitis does.

And 'feelings' change any time I decide to change them.
Feelings aren't 'fact'.

I came out of the training in one piece.
Truth is, I was a bit concerned how I'd handle the training--even though I'd been insistent in wanting to attend.  All of my staff are trained and while I had an introduction and investigated the curriculum,  I'd not personally been trained to provide it--which meant actually participating in the curriculum.

And while all of the above things were true--the deer, the 'check in', the fact that I'm not civil until I hit my third pot of coffee--the DUC (D.eep U.nderlying C.ause) of the matter is I protect me.
It's a survivor's skill.
I set a groundwork for boundaries verbally, and emotionally.
Verbally I set the limits--and emotionally I help the other person waffle and second guess themselves about whether or not they reallllly want to cross them.
I make it very hard for others, at that moment in time, to see me as 'approachable'--and that in turn buys me time and the physical space to plan my next method to protect me.

Yes, it's manipulative and dishonest.  I inventoried that the first night of the training.  I've spent a lifetime doing it in varying degrees.
I said as much to the trainers.  I shared that with the participants.
And then I advocated for others-- because that's what I do.


So of all things, during a week of great joys and wonderful moments (cuz wow......there were mountains of those!)-- why is this the 'bread' that I'm holding on to?

Because it's sustained me for a lifetime and kept me protected from real/imagined danger. It's bought me enough time to go DUC (D.eep U.nderlying C.auses) hunting--feelings aren't 'fact'--so I can be truthful with me and others, cuz that's the right thing to do even if it's not always the most comfortable thing to do.
I'd also like to think it's given me the privilege to be effective in working with others which, in turn, continues to nourish my soul.

It's one of my greatest consolations--
I continually stand in awe that horrid, awful, seemingly unbearable yuck could be used for the good not just once but over and over and over and over again.
And that, for me, is doing more than surviving--it provides me with the freedom to really live.