Arrival
We approached the border, my heart raced. My hands trembled as I picked up my bag, digging for our passports. We drove up to the gate where I saw a camera flash and heard an alarm sound. "Is that for us?" We approached the sensor line for the rail to lift and nothing happened. Heart pounding, passports in hand. Cuauhtemoc moved the car an inch further, the light turned green and the rail lifted to let us in.
We continued into Mexico. The roads became strange and unforgiving. The first large speed bump crunched against the bottom of the car. "Sorrio Volvo!" Traffic was a tense situation, streets merged with uncertain proceeding. The maimed and poor walked the middle of the streets with cars zipping around them.
My map was automatically unhelpful and the street names held no resemblance to those of our directions. Thank God for modern technology and that Cuauhtemoc's data was still good, GPS saved us from having to ask directions. Normally I wouldn't mind but that day in that way was anything other than normal.
My lovely husband felt moved to compassion with every beggar and I felt compelled to keep the windows up and the money away. 'Please let us just get to the hotel.' This was my begging at the moment. Cuauhtemoc drove on, though in his heart he was passing out US $ to all in need. God bless him for his pure intent.
We finally saw our hotel, our gated little sanctuary. Walking in was respite to my weary pregnant body, hyper-alert from hours in the car and the stress of surpassing the unknown.
Medical
I told him I was going to eat and go back to bed. I told him that I wouldn't be bored or in want of distraction because I would sleep, wash laundry, read my books, and work on dance. I told him, but it must have been a lie. I did eat. I came back to our room and sent him a message on Google Hangout- Llegaste? He didn't respond, maybe his data didn't work anymore? Maybe he didn't have time to respond as the shuttle was late getting to the hotel that morning.
I laid down on the bed, watched videos on Facebook about protesting police brutality toward black Americans by kneeling during the National Anthem and another about a Holocaust survivor who embraced her authority to forgive. I read some e-mails from family. Then I lay there on the bed holding tight to the shirt he wore the day before, squeezing it as he had my hand before sleeping.
He left only an hour and 15 minutes ago. This will be an exhausting wait.
.
.
.
.
This referred to the entire moment of Juarez. That moment of Medical was a glimpse of the wait I would have today, Friday, Interview day.
Thursday passed as the calm before the storm. We exercised, we washed our clothes, we went to the fingerprint appointment, we ate, and went to a movie. It was a day of preparation, like nesting before the magnificent trauma of birth.
We argued about things to say, about how to respond to certain questions. We fell silent. I felt many things of anger, doubt, fear, and a little hopelessness. But not so much to take away my power to act on the bright glimmer still beaming inside my mind's eye. So I pulled him to me, I held him, and maybe gently slapped the back of his head. We were meant to be together on that night, not torn apart. And so we prayed. I blessed his mind and body and called for angels to go before his face, fill his mouth, and the ears of the official with the words of a Visa secured.
And we slept.
This morning he rose, bathed, dressed. We dedicated this day, this interview in prayer to the sanctification of and receipt of the Visa. I walked him downstairs where he boarded the shuttle, then walked back to our room. That walk, my sleep moments before, are a memorial. Though I slept, I knew every minute of that night. As I walked, I felt every solid piece of ground under my feet. Now, as I type I feel the weight of my being in this space. But there are moments between then and now that must be shared.
I entered the room and began to supplicate the involvement of all I know. We need you. I wrote to them all: "Cuauhtemoc's on his way to the Consulate. I've pleaded for angels to surround him and to speak for him. Now I'm pleading for the officials questions to be worded in a way that Cuauhtemoc can answer with confidence and surety."
Knowing that action to be wanting, I began to speak. I spoke to Father, Mother, Earth, Space, Distance, Jesus Christ and all things good within the reach of my movement. I let my lips plead our case, I let the air in my throat flow out forcefully. I wanted nothing more than to act, to move in some way that will push ongoing power to my husband in his moment of solitude. We will be able to accomplish more in the world from having residency in the United States, my argument. We will be a source of goodness and warriors of truth and light, I bribed. I reasoned that our intentions have always been to amplify our influence of goodness with this process of immigration, that it isn't a selfish inward motion but rather complies for the wholeness of all. I begged, let us go home with a Visa!
In all of that speaking, I was confiding in sources that I held confidence were on my side. Yet I began to shrink when I stopped speaking. I stopped because I felt faint, I was exhausted. I wanted to sleep, I felt the need to distract or to restore the energy. I began to curl up on the bed and felt fear put a blanket over me. I wrote: "Are you there? Tell me how perfect love leading will open my air ways. Tell me how to cast out fear. I am exhausted. I feel that I know why the disciples slept while Christ suffered. Could they have known the extent of the anguish, no. But they may very well have spent themselves praying for him. I am receiving constant messages of hope and Faith and petitions to the highest power yet I am weeping in my solitude because of his. I can do nothing for him but what is already done. Did I do enough?"
It was a question to myself, that strong part of me that I knew would not allow me to shun the fight. Because I knew she was still fighting within me to relinquish fear, I actually sent it to my sister. I wept waiting for her reply, waiting for myself to be personified in her because we are allowed to be one. As was my hope with all whom I spoke my power to, I was waiting for the echo to come back to me.
I wept and I tried to keep my body spread out across the bed. That strong part of me was not going to allow me to become small in the space I could affect. It must have given me courage to open that way, because I sat up and said aloud, "I will not allow fear to rob me of any strength or power that I might send to Cuauhtemoc in this moment!" Then the thought came, Que Firmes Cimientos is his favorite song. Listen to it. So I did, and it gave me power. How Firm a Foundation
Then the echo came back to me, my sister called. In all that was said, in all that was given, myself was speaking to me. She said, "You are more powerful now as a body in pain and suffering than you ever were as a spirit of light and intelligence. You knew things but you had no power to live." That is what I heard. You are living, she said. I am fighting. I am a warrior and I am sending forth power with my word.
The movement of my breath, the vibrations of my words, will push forth from rock to air, to tree and sea. The God of heaven and earth, Mother and Father, Christ, my family present on earth and in heaven, the Holy Ghost, all are working together for the good of our family. And I accept their sacrifices and their labor.
I accept the pain that comes with the birthing of a child. Immigration has been carried in our lives for seven years. Like a the baby within me will soon do, it outgrew its circumstances. I will not be able to supply life and nutrients to this child in my womb for much longer. Immigration can no longer be sustained in our hands. It is painful to push it out into the hands of someone else, but it is necessary.
It's been three weeks.
I finished typing that Friday at 10:29 am. Though I didn't consciously feel the shift in wind, or the tremble of the ground beneath me, the molecules of my body suddenly burst with energy. Their vibrations moved within me and I said allowed, "It's all finished now, he's coming, our Visa is coming."
The call I sent out returned more swiftly then I knew possible. They excited and calmed me instantaneously. And with this knowledge of success sitting on my heart, I had only two things to do: I sent my gratitude forth on the wind, through the Earth, into space, and on wings of prayer. Then again, I waited.
Around 11:10am, Cuauhtémoc knocked on the door. I looked out the peep hole to see him standing with a giant grin on his face. He had finished around 10:25am.
We celebrated. We rejoiced. We were humbled.
The wait for his packet to come, with his passport and Visa, felt eternal. We just wanted to get home and hold our children close. Yet here we are at home, three weeks from that Friday. That place seems distant now, as though it happened years ago. The anxiety attacks that used to wake me in my sleep, are now non-existent. I still wake up constantly, caused by waiting for the baby to come- heartburn, bathroom runs, getting constantly uncomfortable.
The place I'm in is no longer dependent on a physical space. In this place, there is breath, life, freedom. It is familiar, like it was always there but for fear and time, I couldn't see it. Moments in which this place quietly revealed itself to me along the way, I call those moments hope.
I can't wait to see what is held for us in this place.
Showing posts with label overcome anxiety. Show all posts
Showing posts with label overcome anxiety. Show all posts
24 January 2018
24 June 2017
Creation
I'm in the middle of the very beginning of fulfilling some artistic dreams and right now I'm super excited. I think creation is all our life is meant to be. We create relationships on all levels, we create ways to live and journey through life together. So, this I will remember when darkness creeps on my mind, I just have to create a way to get to the light and turn it on.
28 January 2017
...
I've decided that my current perception of depression and anxiety are very much like ellipsis. Not that they are skipped over but rather encompass a set of ellipsis. That set of ellipsis represents a multitude of thoughts and emotions that pulse through me as I transition between waves of anxiety and depression. It is in these ellipsis that I fail or triumph and learn.
If we zoomed into the ellipsis of my mind, like scientific movies zoom in on cells, we would find a monumental battle ensuing. I have had quite a few people ask me how I over came my depression, because I have felt so much better in these last couple of months and it is almost palpable.
BUT, I always answer that it isn't over and we ought not be deceived into thinking the condition has passed. The thing is that many people continue having attacks flung on them, even though they smile. For me personally, the storms of depression are still a magnitude like unto any that contributed to keeping me in bed an entire day, or turning me into a monster toward my children and husband. It's still very much real and very painful.
BUT, I have come to a point of eureka. I have found it, that moment so microscopic that it literally took me months to even fathom a "pause" between thought and reaction. I couldn't see it, when Therapists would mention pausing, or breathing, or even recognizing an erroneous thought, I repeatedly asked, "HOW?!"
So I was taught to work backward from the situations I found myself in. Starting with negating the shame that came about every time I hurt someone or sent normal situations flying to crazy in .02 seconds. I came to understand that the feeling of shame fed my next entertainment of the adversaries thoughts that flooded my mind in the aftermath of negative reactions.
I then found it possible to find a pause mid reaction. I became as familiar as possible with the tool I was given and tried to breathe them into my being. My reactions began to be shortened and with each cut, each pause, I heard a little voice of reason asking, "Is this an appropriate response to the matter at hand?" The more I listened to that tiny profound voice, the sooner I craved it and the sooner it delivered.
You see, depression is a very overwhelming feeling. It is hard to describe, but when it is prevalent, I think your entire being craves something as powerful, anything other than that doom. Which, in my theory, is why anxiety easily couples depression. Anxiety feeds secondary emotions, giving them strength to lash out. In my case, that secondary was often anger. No, wrath. My ignorance of this entire realm of depression allowed my anger to become a beast, not just an inclination. The process of battling, then breaking and calming that beast to a trained tool is still a goal, not a complete success.
Now, I have found that point of being able to ask if my response will be appropriate before it comes out of me.
BUT, that is not to say the urge and the attack don't entice me, that they don't win sometimes. Because they do, some days I simply lose grip of my reigns and I have to fight my way back to getting them in hand again.
I can smile more now, and choose to do so in spite of the gloom because, for the most part, I have found that I can control my reactions. It's hard and often takes all mental and physical stamina. Just like retraining a muscle after atrophy, the joy of having full use and ability of your limbs is undeniable.
Please, keep fighting, I know you're tired and sometimes don't know how to battle effectively. I know it's hard to find allies, but please don't stop searching for those who will help you succeed and teach you the way through the battlefield. There will be a time when you too will exlaim, Eureka!
Con mucho amor,
~Anna K. Morales
If we zoomed into the ellipsis of my mind, like scientific movies zoom in on cells, we would find a monumental battle ensuing. I have had quite a few people ask me how I over came my depression, because I have felt so much better in these last couple of months and it is almost palpable.
BUT, I always answer that it isn't over and we ought not be deceived into thinking the condition has passed. The thing is that many people continue having attacks flung on them, even though they smile. For me personally, the storms of depression are still a magnitude like unto any that contributed to keeping me in bed an entire day, or turning me into a monster toward my children and husband. It's still very much real and very painful.
BUT, I have come to a point of eureka. I have found it, that moment so microscopic that it literally took me months to even fathom a "pause" between thought and reaction. I couldn't see it, when Therapists would mention pausing, or breathing, or even recognizing an erroneous thought, I repeatedly asked, "HOW?!"
So I was taught to work backward from the situations I found myself in. Starting with negating the shame that came about every time I hurt someone or sent normal situations flying to crazy in .02 seconds. I came to understand that the feeling of shame fed my next entertainment of the adversaries thoughts that flooded my mind in the aftermath of negative reactions.
I then found it possible to find a pause mid reaction. I became as familiar as possible with the tool I was given and tried to breathe them into my being. My reactions began to be shortened and with each cut, each pause, I heard a little voice of reason asking, "Is this an appropriate response to the matter at hand?" The more I listened to that tiny profound voice, the sooner I craved it and the sooner it delivered.
You see, depression is a very overwhelming feeling. It is hard to describe, but when it is prevalent, I think your entire being craves something as powerful, anything other than that doom. Which, in my theory, is why anxiety easily couples depression. Anxiety feeds secondary emotions, giving them strength to lash out. In my case, that secondary was often anger. No, wrath. My ignorance of this entire realm of depression allowed my anger to become a beast, not just an inclination. The process of battling, then breaking and calming that beast to a trained tool is still a goal, not a complete success.
Now, I have found that point of being able to ask if my response will be appropriate before it comes out of me.
BUT, that is not to say the urge and the attack don't entice me, that they don't win sometimes. Because they do, some days I simply lose grip of my reigns and I have to fight my way back to getting them in hand again.
I can smile more now, and choose to do so in spite of the gloom because, for the most part, I have found that I can control my reactions. It's hard and often takes all mental and physical stamina. Just like retraining a muscle after atrophy, the joy of having full use and ability of your limbs is undeniable.
Please, keep fighting, I know you're tired and sometimes don't know how to battle effectively. I know it's hard to find allies, but please don't stop searching for those who will help you succeed and teach you the way through the battlefield. There will be a time when you too will exlaim, Eureka!
Con mucho amor,
~Anna K. Morales
27 October 2016
Epiphany
A thought: maybe we need to redefine the course. Our goal pathway usually focuses on how we will trod and when we want to arrive. Maybe it's time that we all recognize that the pathways we choose also include unforeseeable terrain, monsters/demons/and other travelers. It also might not always supply us with provisions the path. Maybe we need to start knowing that there will be unexpected stops because of hardship or insurmounted beauty to withstand. So when we are forced to stop progressing on the path we can know that it's still progression in the journey. To move forward on the path again is not a matter of overcoming shame or guilt or incapability, but rather wisdom to know it's time the journey continue down the path.
Con mucho amor,
~Anna K. Morales
Con mucho amor,
~Anna K. Morales
03 October 2016
Remembering the Promises
I've been thinking about faith, because of the things discussed in the General Women's Session. (The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints holds a General Conference Semi-annually).
I discussed with my good friend, Jane, how I might trust God in a way that recognizes my fears (realistic or not) and allows my faith to lead my fears to the Lord. She reminded me that Heavenly Father not only hears my petitions for my family but loves me enough to desire my same desires for my family.
Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf taught that "[faith] cannot violate another person's agency....[nor] force our will upon God."
What do I want from Life and God? Specifically, at this moment, I want our vehicles to sell so that we can pay off some debt and not go into more debt to pay the $585 and $85 fees that we need to turn in with our 601-A application. And, I want this application to be approved. Both rely on decisions made by other people. I questioned if my faith that these things could happen might be erroneous. That perhaps I should not have faith in something that is up to the chances of people's choices.
I respectfully negate that question because I know that there are good people in all aspects of life. What I ask is that those be the people whose eyes see or ears hear of our ads to sell the cars. I ask that the good people working in Immigration will be those that receive, review, and approve our application.
I thought about what my faith is based in; 1- Jesus Christ makes Life, Progression, and Change possible. 2- My ability to become the me I currently can't see. 3- That there is a law, an eternal law, that with no beginning exists: All things will work together for my good because I love and serve God.
That reminded me of a post I wrote a few years ago that I'd like to share part of with you.
I discussed with my good friend, Jane, how I might trust God in a way that recognizes my fears (realistic or not) and allows my faith to lead my fears to the Lord. She reminded me that Heavenly Father not only hears my petitions for my family but loves me enough to desire my same desires for my family.
Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf taught that "[faith] cannot violate another person's agency....[nor] force our will upon God."
What do I want from Life and God? Specifically, at this moment, I want our vehicles to sell so that we can pay off some debt and not go into more debt to pay the $585 and $85 fees that we need to turn in with our 601-A application. And, I want this application to be approved. Both rely on decisions made by other people. I questioned if my faith that these things could happen might be erroneous. That perhaps I should not have faith in something that is up to the chances of people's choices.
I respectfully negate that question because I know that there are good people in all aspects of life. What I ask is that those be the people whose eyes see or ears hear of our ads to sell the cars. I ask that the good people working in Immigration will be those that receive, review, and approve our application.
I thought about what my faith is based in; 1- Jesus Christ makes Life, Progression, and Change possible. 2- My ability to become the me I currently can't see. 3- That there is a law, an eternal law, that with no beginning exists: All things will work together for my good because I love and serve God.
That reminded me of a post I wrote a few years ago that I'd like to share part of with you.
28 September 2013
" a Fear not to do b good, my sons, for whatsoever ye c sow, that shall ye also reap; therefore, if ye sow d good ye shall also reap good for your e reward." Doctrine and Covenants 6:33.
I find that when I do good things, however small, the greatest blessing I have is contentedness. I find myself to be more joyful. I am able to recognize the good things that others do, however small. The good things they do bring gladness to my life, hope when thinking of my children's future, and opportunity to resolve to be a better me.
Don't be afraid to speak the kind thoughts. Don't fear the kind gesture or good intent, the Lord will make everything alright.
The promises of these scriptures are real and it moves me to hope, to trust that Heavenly Father will take all things that affect my life and He will orchestrate a grand symphony. He will not dismiss my righteous desires and I will not dismiss His ability to turn fear, anxiety, depression, worry, and heartbreak into a life more beautiful than I can imagine.
Con mucho amor,
~Anna K. Morales
27 September 2016
Making Space
You know, sometimes the anxiety I feel makes my brain want to explode and projects a false identity of space for my life.
When my house starts looking like the picture above, I can guarantee that my mind is in a similar state. I create spaces in my home for creation only when I take the focus off of the anxiety.
Please understand, my home is by no means ever really clean. My children are master storm debris creators, we are working on the aftermath clean-up pros part. But the thing is that when my mind is calm and has space to think things through logically, I am more motivated to create a space in my home, my family, and my life for the creation (new and adventurous things).
I am learning to hear the anxiety, recognize its voice and then move on. I want to move on because the anxiety is usually based on things that are not true or blown out of proportion. Sometimes anxiety comes up with a lot of what if's that are meant to scare me out of doing something I love, something that soulfills me, or neglect inviting my children to do something soulfilling. I'm glad I'm recognizing this and am able to enlarge my sphere. Imagine yourself in a sphere, like a very elastic bubble, anxiety wants to shrink that bubble around you until the point that you are in the fetal position. You take up the least amount of positive space that way. The immense amount of negative space surrounding you feels very heavy this way, breathing even feels like too much strain on your little space.
As I learn not to give heed to the anxiety, not to let it dictate my life, I am able to stretch this sphere of space as far as I want and am seeing that the larger I make it the more it can withstand. The space of breath and creation is so needed for me to feel complete and it is controlled by my will, not by circumstance.
I took what felt like a huge step toward creating more space to be me over the weekend. I auditioned for a local artist's original ballet, A King is Born. Not only that, I signed my girls up as well! I was both amazed and sore afterward. I was shocked at what my body could still do, longs to do. I was also very aware of the amount of work I have to do in the next few months, but I did it. I will have 3 roles in the work and my girls are so excited to be dancing with mommy!!!
I am nervous and have a lot of body image, capacity, concerns. I recognize those concerns and am taking measures to make sure I do the best I am capable of doing through exercise and technique practice. However, I am more excited about being part of this beautiful work than I am concerned about failing.
Con mucho amor,
~Anna K. Morales
09 September 2016
Uninspired
I feel like junk, mostly, I think. I've noticed that I write when I'm seeing light at the end of the tunnel. I write to try and share some of the inspirations that give me momentum to keep trying.
Most days are not made up of that. I mean, things happen, good and bad, every day. Today my friend Nicole called me out of the blue because she had some air time and chose to spend it on me! Did it brighten my heart and give me warm fuzzies? Yes. Did I go back to trying to exercise with my brood of children and start feeling junky again? Yes. But that little act of love is now in me and will be drawn upon when I am about to drown.
Yesterday I was so grouchy. My son had a Dr. appointment and after grumpily getting everyone there safely and yelled at, I tried to distract myself in the office by picking up a book. Know what I found?
Most days are not made up of that. I mean, things happen, good and bad, every day. Today my friend Nicole called me out of the blue because she had some air time and chose to spend it on me! Did it brighten my heart and give me warm fuzzies? Yes. Did I go back to trying to exercise with my brood of children and start feeling junky again? Yes. But that little act of love is now in me and will be drawn upon when I am about to drown.
Yesterday I was so grouchy. My son had a Dr. appointment and after grumpily getting everyone there safely and yelled at, I tried to distract myself in the office by picking up a book. Know what I found?
The girls and I laughed at the funny pictures of all the animals and recognized ourselves in them. The girls said that I was like the Warthog... uh, yep.
The day before that I had probably dealt out one (or ten) too many spankings. When I am in a bad place, I spank. My kids sometimes put a hand up in defense if I'm getting upset. This makes me lose it with myself even more.
I have followed enough blogs, read tons of material, and talked to enough women and therapists to know I am not alone in this fight. If you can relate to anything I'm writing, please get help. I love therapy because it gives me the tools to fight the ravenous person that takes me over when I'm anxious or depressed. Before getting therapy there was no hesitation before acting, to reflect on the weight of what I was about to say, scream, or hurt into my children. Now there is, I don't always heed that moment and have cause to repent daily, habit is hard to break. But the fact that reason is coming back into my being on a more usual basis means progress.
**If you have not experienced these things, please have compassion for us who do. It is a very real fight. I can't count how many times people tell me, "just stop it." Well, it's a high speed train carrying tons of weight and won't stop on a dime. I am doing it. I have invoked the all encompassing powers of the Atonement and am being trained to stop and choose a better course of action.
It is hard and sometimes I wonder if I have made any real change. Overall, I know I have. Some days I am tired of the effort. But those are the days, like today and yesterday and the day before that I just have to bite the bullet and tell myself that I can slow down on my check list and that the most important thing is that my kids and I make it through the day having successfully navigated my and their emotional needs for that day.
This is real. This is why I blog about depression and anxiety. This is not a how-to during the post depression period. I'm in the thick of it. And I am telling you that I'm going to make it out alright, it's just that right now. It's a very real, very hard uphill battle.
As a side note, I have not slept well for a week and a half. Illnesses, teething and insomnia. I think there is a huge correlation there.
Con mucho amor,
~Anna K. Morales
25 August 2016
Bedtime & Me Time
I deep breathe myself into a calm and relaxed state before bed. It's something I've been focusing more on this week to try reverse insomnia. I was visiting family last week and discussed with my sister not being able to sleep. At that time I resolved to get into a bedtime routine.
1- My kids also don't sleep enough.
2- I've got a kindergartner on my hands starting Monday, I need her to wake up rested and happy.
3- I feel I need a chance to wind down before getting in bed and lights out.
My kids usually hang out around me, on top of me or very close by until they drift off and go to sleep, then they magically appear in their beds, heehee. I can't wait for them to figure out that the magic is mommy carrying them to bed. Then again, if I stay on this course maybe they won't need to appear in their beds. Monday night was the first night of really sticking to the routine, on my part. The kids listened but with hesitancy. Last night was awesome. Dinner, free time, park or reading, bath, brush teeth, song/prayers, bed. My oldest longs for the structure and is settling into this very gracefully. My second is not about this at all. She longs for touching and holding and sleeping on me every night. But she sleeps in her toddler bed in my room so I tuck her in then start folding laundry or tidying up so she sees me. Three nights in a row she has fallen asleep by or before 9:00 pm! That's a 2-3 hour difference from usual! I think my sister helped them cause she tucked them in on our visit and just kept sending them back to bed if they got up. They aren't fighting it as much as times past when I tried to implement a bed time.
I have felt really good about doing this. It's better for all of our health. We're still working on the early rising time of, ahem, 7:00 am. 6:30 for me. Today they actually were a bit groggy but soon were giggling and playing together.
For many this all might sound like a simple mommy discipline issue. In part, but really anxiety and depression keep you from doing even the simplest of things. I have often felt like a failure because one part of bed time went awry and it would literally unhinge me. So many nights my husband and kids were asking me not to yell at everyone that I took it to the other extreme and didn't expect anything of anyone.
'Bed time' was non-existent. My kids weren't falling asleep in a calm state, they would just chat and move or cry until they completely zoned out. There was nothing peaceful about it. The whole thing just sounded like cries for help. But the thoughts in my mind were that if I tried I would just end up screaming and that would be worse than unrest.
Anxiety just lies to you, repeating one undesirable option, one possible outcome, over and over again until you believe it is the only thing, that it is truth.
Taking time to deep breathe purposefully each morning and night has really given me scope. It also has become a calm time, if I am breathing and my kids need me, instead of yelling the girls have just come up and quietly said, "Mami."
So to recap, breathe, sleep, and believe that you can author new outcomes in your home.
Con mucho amor,
~Anna K. Morales
1- My kids also don't sleep enough.
2- I've got a kindergartner on my hands starting Monday, I need her to wake up rested and happy.
3- I feel I need a chance to wind down before getting in bed and lights out.
My kids usually hang out around me, on top of me or very close by until they drift off and go to sleep, then they magically appear in their beds, heehee. I can't wait for them to figure out that the magic is mommy carrying them to bed. Then again, if I stay on this course maybe they won't need to appear in their beds. Monday night was the first night of really sticking to the routine, on my part. The kids listened but with hesitancy. Last night was awesome. Dinner, free time, park or reading, bath, brush teeth, song/prayers, bed. My oldest longs for the structure and is settling into this very gracefully. My second is not about this at all. She longs for touching and holding and sleeping on me every night. But she sleeps in her toddler bed in my room so I tuck her in then start folding laundry or tidying up so she sees me. Three nights in a row she has fallen asleep by or before 9:00 pm! That's a 2-3 hour difference from usual! I think my sister helped them cause she tucked them in on our visit and just kept sending them back to bed if they got up. They aren't fighting it as much as times past when I tried to implement a bed time.
I have felt really good about doing this. It's better for all of our health. We're still working on the early rising time of, ahem, 7:00 am. 6:30 for me. Today they actually were a bit groggy but soon were giggling and playing together.
For many this all might sound like a simple mommy discipline issue. In part, but really anxiety and depression keep you from doing even the simplest of things. I have often felt like a failure because one part of bed time went awry and it would literally unhinge me. So many nights my husband and kids were asking me not to yell at everyone that I took it to the other extreme and didn't expect anything of anyone.
'Bed time' was non-existent. My kids weren't falling asleep in a calm state, they would just chat and move or cry until they completely zoned out. There was nothing peaceful about it. The whole thing just sounded like cries for help. But the thoughts in my mind were that if I tried I would just end up screaming and that would be worse than unrest.
Anxiety just lies to you, repeating one undesirable option, one possible outcome, over and over again until you believe it is the only thing, that it is truth.
Taking time to deep breathe purposefully each morning and night has really given me scope. It also has become a calm time, if I am breathing and my kids need me, instead of yelling the girls have just come up and quietly said, "Mami."
So to recap, breathe, sleep, and believe that you can author new outcomes in your home.
Con mucho amor,
~Anna K. Morales
10 August 2016
AnnaK Designs
Here's a fun new project I'm working on!
Be inspired, then inspire!
Con mucho amor,
~Anna K. Morales
04 August 2016
Mandalas, Children, Immigration, and Answers
This post will feel a bit scrambled, but that is how I feel most of the time. :)
When do you feel you receive revelation or insight into your own life?
I feel so much joy and peace over the insights I've had today. Yes, I said JOY! I haven't felt that for a while.
A friend of mine posted the call for someone to paint a large Mandala on their wall at The Loft. I automatically felt drawn to the project and began doodling. I doodled 6 different ideas in two days. I love art, so liberating. I could get lost in creating these beautiful circles, they are like your soul is pouring itself out on paper.
When do you feel you receive revelation or insight into your own life?
I feel so much joy and peace over the insights I've had today. Yes, I said JOY! I haven't felt that for a while.
A friend of mine posted the call for someone to paint a large Mandala on their wall at The Loft. I automatically felt drawn to the project and began doodling. I doodled 6 different ideas in two days. I love art, so liberating. I could get lost in creating these beautiful circles, they are like your soul is pouring itself out on paper.
mandala by: Kristen Hinz
I've been breathing deeply as I doodle and meditating on the motion of my designs. I guess I've just felt grounded by them.
Today I saw a question posted by a peer in a discussion forum I participate in. She asked if anyone could relate to the shame talk and guilt she felt over a decision to work while she still has young kids. I answered out of intuition and ended up with some revealing advice to myself about my children and the daily struggles I have with mothering them. Here's my response to her-
I am learning this: Your children won't be children forever. But not in the way you might think. My children need to know two things- Mommy and Daddy love them and Heavenly Parents love them. There is a multitude of ways to learn that. Your children are going to grow up and follow their own path. At the end, I believe that we will be asked if we learned to love them no matter what and if we learned to love ourselves, as God does. That means, did you develop yourself as a Goddess? Or do we simply bury our talents while we raise children? There is a multitude of ways to do this as well, but I don't want to digress. Yes, I have felt the sting of shame talk, whether generated by my overactive imagination or guided by cultural undertones, that shame can feel so real. But it isn't who you are. Your children will learn so much from you when you love them and are true to who you are. Part of who you are may be developed or emphasized through work. I am much more patient with my kids when I am working. Something about spending time problem solving in adult settings makes it easier to break that down for them at home.
I seriously get so caught up in meeting my own standard of parenthood, doing everything "by the book" to ensure that my kids are compassionate, strong-willed, intelligent, seekers of good, etc.
***News Flash***
There is no book to go by. I responded to her and then sat re-reading the response and realized that I may be getting in my own way. Sometimes my kids probably don't know that I love them when I'm a hot mess because I didn't discipline as I 'should have' or when I get mad at myself for spending time drawing a mandala instead of making dinner. The rage/anger/anxiety that flows from me when I didn't do what I 'should have' done is palpable and I'm sure pushes sentiments of love out the window. Do my kids starve? No. Did we eat dinner late? Yes.
I want to allow the peace and calm I felt while drawing exude any other feeling. My kids want to know why I spent time doing that if I was just going to be angry afterward. The next day while I drew, I got them paper too. Sofia stayed and drew a story. When she was hungry, she let me know and we both put down our pencils and ate something. So I learned something, I could allow my joys, talents, and hobbies describe me organically rather than feel shame because I don't fit the perceived mold for moms. I could be true to myself and still be a good mom.
Huh, go figure.
In other news, we have an appointment Saturday to review our 601A application with our Consultant before submitting again. I could be taking time to finalize all the last details, but I decided that the true me needed to outlet on social media and on my blog.
Be true to you- you, your family, and society depend on it.
Con mucho amor,
~Anna K. Morales
27 July 2016
Conjuring Calm
Yesterday I received a letter from a past clinician for immigration evidence. I never asked them my diagnosis, I just tried to comply with assignments and do my best to become the outcome they said could be from certain methods and practices. The letter states the dates of service and the diagnosis of Major Depression Disorder. I won't lie, seeing depression in my family has made me afraid of those words in connection with me. But it isn't who I am, it is what I have been experiencing.
I spoke to a young family friend just prior to a crisis that put her in the hospital a few days. She was asking for my encouragement, seeking someone to pull her from her depression. I don't think that is possible when you're standing in the same plain. As I spoke to her, I smiled and tried to show love. At one point she very bluntly asked, "How can you smile? How come I see you as a happy person when you are obviously experiencing similar things as me?" To what extent we experience depression similarly, I don't know. But that question, wow. At the time I told her it was a mask, to cover the ugly of what I was really feeling.
Now, I realize how complex we are. Do I experience happiness every time I smile, no. I have felt hypocritical in my emotional portrayal of me so many days through this experience. In fact my moods are often so up and down my anxiety begins rising every time positive moods rise--anticipating the next negative plummet.
I get so angry with myself when I do begin to feel the anxiety and then the dark covering feelings of despair and depression. But here's where breath comes in. If I can calm my worrying heart on the rises, it is more likely that my negative feelings will be manageable. It amazes me the shallow breathing, such as done when nervous or anxious, allows for such profound impacts in emotional sway. I found this information on Livestrong interesting:
I spoke to a young family friend just prior to a crisis that put her in the hospital a few days. She was asking for my encouragement, seeking someone to pull her from her depression. I don't think that is possible when you're standing in the same plain. As I spoke to her, I smiled and tried to show love. At one point she very bluntly asked, "How can you smile? How come I see you as a happy person when you are obviously experiencing similar things as me?" To what extent we experience depression similarly, I don't know. But that question, wow. At the time I told her it was a mask, to cover the ugly of what I was really feeling.
Now, I realize how complex we are. Do I experience happiness every time I smile, no. I have felt hypocritical in my emotional portrayal of me so many days through this experience. In fact my moods are often so up and down my anxiety begins rising every time positive moods rise--anticipating the next negative plummet.
I get so angry with myself when I do begin to feel the anxiety and then the dark covering feelings of despair and depression. But here's where breath comes in. If I can calm my worrying heart on the rises, it is more likely that my negative feelings will be manageable. It amazes me the shallow breathing, such as done when nervous or anxious, allows for such profound impacts in emotional sway. I found this information on Livestrong interesting:
"The limbic system is located centrally and deep in the brain, consisting of several small structures called the hippocampus, the amygdala, the thalamus and the hypothalamus. The limbic system is involved in emotional memory and mood control. While the limbic system is involved with feelings, which are often thought of as spontaneous, the control of feelings and emotions requires high-level cognitive skills and interaction of the limbic system with the other parts of the brain involved in thinking."
According to my therapist deep breathing allows more oxygen to flow to those 'other parts' of the brain, resulting in higher potential control of feelings and emotions. I say potential because I am learning to train my logic as well. For so long, logic has been controlled by my emotions, meaning I really had no sound logic represented in my decision making. It has affected me on so many levels and affected those closest to me, especially my children.
Earlier this month I read a post by Joanna Gaines on Facebook, it was about planting seeds for our children. She had planted a bush outside of her child's window to purposely attract butterflies and hummingbirds for future enjoyment. Then, she forgot about it, until one day she witnessed her daughter watching for her hummingbird, letting her mom know she watched for him daily.
This story has brought up so many desires in me and also revealed another fear to shake hands with. I think it is connected to my deepest unspoken fear of family separation. I fear that I am carelessly planting seeds of bitterness and resent in my children, of anger and poor emotional logic. So as I breath and am mindful, I decide to be purposeful. I want to react and act with intention. I want to calmly calculate my approaches, with a healthy portion of reckless abandon to be sure. But I want my children to see me working towards this as well. I need them to see me honestly in the pit of the fire, as they do every day, and see me taking measured action to get out of the illness that would consume my mind.
Part of the action I am taking to accomplish this, aside from breathing and exercise (which is a way to force me to breathe deeply, haha), is to create an image of myself being calm. I am to focus on this and know that it is a reality that can be mine. I am no longer going to pretend to be happy or ashamed if I am happy in the midst of this battle, rather I am going to breathe them in, soaking in them when they come and beckoning them when they are distant. Just as I will do when I am balanced in logical and emotional thinking.
Months ago, I couldn't even wake up calmly, but it is slowly coming. I have experienced serenity in those first moments of waking, something that was elusive much of my life. So I pray and breathe, repeat, and conjure the person in me that is calm and invite her to sit and stay awhile.
Con mucho amor,
~Anna K. Morales
13 July 2016
Exercise
My therapist encouraged me to add one more day/week of exercise to help enhance my mental health for the better. Well, I decided it could be good to do this with my kids, it was physical and mental exercise.
All day I have been struggling not to yell at them. Sofia even said, "Mom, you're forgetting to breath." She admitted to me that when she takes a bath she practices my breathing technique and names things in the room softly so as not to make a lot of noise. Love her.
I decided to try ending our before dinner time cheerfully by exercising with them. Here's to the Day 1's of our lives, onward and upward.
All day I have been struggling not to yell at them. Sofia even said, "Mom, you're forgetting to breath." She admitted to me that when she takes a bath she practices my breathing technique and names things in the room softly so as not to make a lot of noise. Love her.
I decided to try ending our before dinner time cheerfully by exercising with them. Here's to the Day 1's of our lives, onward and upward.
Con mucho amor,
~Anna K. Morales
30 June 2016
Shaking Hands
A very good friend of mine suggested the following, "You must 'confront' the bull head-on. You must reach down deeper, face to face with that beast, and yank it away. This shouldn't be with anger, violence or bursts/feats of yelling and hauling things across the planet. On the contrary, it would only require a calm meditative willingness to shake hands with the truth of what's actually bothering you."
I came to this. I want me to matter, my eternal me. I want it to matter to me. You see, I believe that we are eternal beings who have chosen to experience mortal life as an accelerator for progression. Part of the process is forgetting who we were prior to coming, therefore making it possible to declare who we are here at our discretion.
I have had glimpses, visions, revelations about things that have eternal importance to me. These things, understandings, make up my soul.
You don't see that as a problem, do you? Well it isn't the beast. I think today- thanks to therapy, deep breathing, family, and the inspiring Emily Meyers (The Freckled Fox)- I am ready to shake hands with the beast, my Unspoken, because it is devouring my life.
I want to start by quoting Emily's profile blurb, she says, "Hello, I'm Emily, a lucky wife and mama to 5 little ones, who's always striving to live life to the fullest. My goal is to uplift and inspire as I share that life with you." Emily had to say goodbye to her husband this month after he lost his battle with Cancer. As I looked at photos of the funeral, tears and the beasty truth arose.
My beast is my fear, my anxiety, over losing family to any kind of separation. I fear history could repeat itself and it all but snuffs my eternal being's efforts to live life to the fullest.
My dad was in an accident when I was just turning 12. He now lives with extreme short-term memory loss, and a broken body that hardly lets him walk properly- let alone run, skip, or try his gymnastic tricks I remember him doing as a child. In result, shortly after the accident, my parents divorced. For all gracious attempts by my parents to make that smooth and keep our family strong, it was traumatizing. Over the years, extended family have, separated themselves from our family, or passed on from mortality and I have gently folded those experiences and tucked them into my heart.
When my husband and I met, I almost immediately asked if he was documented (I know, pushy right?) He said no, but for all the horror stories, I also knew plenty of people in that situation who were able to file and apply on their own. Frankly, it didn't worry me at all. However, with the passing of time and the ever changing Immigration opportunities, I began to fear. Over the years tragic circumstances within our family and those of dear friends have fed my fears with cold, and at times, grotesque realities.
We have actively pursued my husband's visa for five years. A series of political decisions led us to apply for the I601a inadmissibility waiver, a hardship waiver allowing my husband to stay in the US during the process rather than have to return to Mexico. We were denied in 2014 for lack of sufficient evidence. Now with more experience, understanding and sadly much more evidence of hardship, we will be applying again.
My anxiety level= basket-case, I am through the roof, scare my children, out of my mind anxious. Anxiety and fear have taken my imagination off the charts on what could potentially happen to our family. Without this waiver, the government offers us two choices: separation- my husband returns to Mexico to await pardon and to be granted a visa through the I 601 waiver; or relocation- our entire family heads to Mexico for the latter mentioned process. Potentially, everything could go fine with those options, but if you get a glimpse of the news in Mexico you'll understand. We are personally affected by the murders and unlawful distress that is Mexico.
****Deep Breath**** Exhale****
Here is the thing, I now am willing to shake hands with that fear. It has never allowed me to be completely present for the here and now. I am missing creating a full, head-on, beautiful life with my family. This fear and anxiety have been constantly presenting a 'virtual reality' for me. Causing me to live by reactionary, compulsive behavior.
I am tired. I see the truth of my current situation as beautiful yet allow blinding to make me act as though it isn't. I see this and instead of fixing my lens, anxiety leads me to shame myself. Fear tells me I'm too broken and messed up to change.
BUT, today, I heard myself, the real eternal me that I'm choosing to be. Do you know what I said?
I choose what I have always chosen, Life! I chose Christ in pre-mortal life because He represented a life worth living. Prior to that, I chose to follow Heavenly Father's plan for a trial of mortality because it allows me to choose and create the eternal life worth living.
Hello fear, let us make peace and part ways because I am choosing to live my current life to the fullest. My family deserves to know the real me now, this is when it counts. I cannot allow the uncertainty of my future dictate my present any longer. I know you are not easy to loose from the grasp you have on my mind, but I choose to believe those that give me tools to leave you behind. Adieu.
Is it time to shake hands with your beast?
Con mucho amor,
~Anna K. Morales
I came to this. I want me to matter, my eternal me. I want it to matter to me. You see, I believe that we are eternal beings who have chosen to experience mortal life as an accelerator for progression. Part of the process is forgetting who we were prior to coming, therefore making it possible to declare who we are here at our discretion.
I have had glimpses, visions, revelations about things that have eternal importance to me. These things, understandings, make up my soul.
You don't see that as a problem, do you? Well it isn't the beast. I think today- thanks to therapy, deep breathing, family, and the inspiring Emily Meyers (The Freckled Fox)- I am ready to shake hands with the beast, my Unspoken, because it is devouring my life.
I want to start by quoting Emily's profile blurb, she says, "Hello, I'm Emily, a lucky wife and mama to 5 little ones, who's always striving to live life to the fullest. My goal is to uplift and inspire as I share that life with you." Emily had to say goodbye to her husband this month after he lost his battle with Cancer. As I looked at photos of the funeral, tears and the beasty truth arose.
My beast is my fear, my anxiety, over losing family to any kind of separation. I fear history could repeat itself and it all but snuffs my eternal being's efforts to live life to the fullest.
My dad was in an accident when I was just turning 12. He now lives with extreme short-term memory loss, and a broken body that hardly lets him walk properly- let alone run, skip, or try his gymnastic tricks I remember him doing as a child. In result, shortly after the accident, my parents divorced. For all gracious attempts by my parents to make that smooth and keep our family strong, it was traumatizing. Over the years, extended family have, separated themselves from our family, or passed on from mortality and I have gently folded those experiences and tucked them into my heart.
When my husband and I met, I almost immediately asked if he was documented (I know, pushy right?) He said no, but for all the horror stories, I also knew plenty of people in that situation who were able to file and apply on their own. Frankly, it didn't worry me at all. However, with the passing of time and the ever changing Immigration opportunities, I began to fear. Over the years tragic circumstances within our family and those of dear friends have fed my fears with cold, and at times, grotesque realities.
We have actively pursued my husband's visa for five years. A series of political decisions led us to apply for the I601a inadmissibility waiver, a hardship waiver allowing my husband to stay in the US during the process rather than have to return to Mexico. We were denied in 2014 for lack of sufficient evidence. Now with more experience, understanding and sadly much more evidence of hardship, we will be applying again.
My anxiety level= basket-case, I am through the roof, scare my children, out of my mind anxious. Anxiety and fear have taken my imagination off the charts on what could potentially happen to our family. Without this waiver, the government offers us two choices: separation- my husband returns to Mexico to await pardon and to be granted a visa through the I 601 waiver; or relocation- our entire family heads to Mexico for the latter mentioned process. Potentially, everything could go fine with those options, but if you get a glimpse of the news in Mexico you'll understand. We are personally affected by the murders and unlawful distress that is Mexico.
****Deep Breath**** Exhale****
Here is the thing, I now am willing to shake hands with that fear. It has never allowed me to be completely present for the here and now. I am missing creating a full, head-on, beautiful life with my family. This fear and anxiety have been constantly presenting a 'virtual reality' for me. Causing me to live by reactionary, compulsive behavior.
I am tired. I see the truth of my current situation as beautiful yet allow blinding to make me act as though it isn't. I see this and instead of fixing my lens, anxiety leads me to shame myself. Fear tells me I'm too broken and messed up to change.
BUT, today, I heard myself, the real eternal me that I'm choosing to be. Do you know what I said?
I choose what I have always chosen, Life! I chose Christ in pre-mortal life because He represented a life worth living. Prior to that, I chose to follow Heavenly Father's plan for a trial of mortality because it allows me to choose and create the eternal life worth living.
Hello fear, let us make peace and part ways because I am choosing to live my current life to the fullest. My family deserves to know the real me now, this is when it counts. I cannot allow the uncertainty of my future dictate my present any longer. I know you are not easy to loose from the grasp you have on my mind, but I choose to believe those that give me tools to leave you behind. Adieu.
Is it time to shake hands with your beast?
Con mucho amor,
~Anna K. Morales
21 June 2016
Back to the Basics
"When difficult things occur in our lives, what is our immediate response? Is it confusion or doubt or spiritual withdrawal? Is it a blow to our faith? Do we blame God or others for our circumstances? Or is our first response to remember who we are—that we are children of a loving God? Is that coupled with an absolute trust that He allows some earthly suffering because He knows it will bless us, like a refiner’s fire, to become like Him and to gain our eternal inheritance?" - Elder Donald L. Hallstrom
As I've lacked uninterrupted access to a keyboard, I have subsequently stopped updating my blog. Not sharing my thoughts is like carrying rocks in a basket. All of these things add up and I feel my basket will burst if I don't share. So, I'm typing on my phone, a thing I hate to do. Wish me luck.
If I could ever sum up all of my experiences with anxiety and conversations in the last month and a half, the quote above might capture the most oft asked question to myself. Do I trust my Father?
Now, I don't want anyone to assume that this question means, we don't have enough faith, or that anxiety and depression simply are a matter of faith. Please don't shame yourself for these things. I do not suggest, nor will I ever, that we simply can choose our way out of this with one giant leap of faith. I don't believe that. I believe that our minds are intricate and delicate yet just like the intricate muscles of our hands, we can learn to exercise things that will reshape our thinking and outlook.
The reason I bring trust into the conversation is this: I know that there is a stigma out there about therapy and therapists. I had a good experience on my first go round, so I should have no reason to doubt I can have it again, right? Well, I do doubt. So my question is, would I rather continue all of my life experiences in anxiety or fear? Or do I trust that the Lord is going to provide people in my life who are capable of teaching me a new approach?
I have good friends that I have spoken with in the last month and I plan to continue to seek them out. But for all the testimony and buoying up, I still feel the void of professional help. What I mean is, I recognize and value the knowledge and mapping a social worker can provide. I have yet to meet a clinician that only listens and provides no guidance. Though I have only seen a therapist once, I have worked with a few and my sister is a Social Worker.
It is my belief that their apt for compassion and learning about the workings of mental health are gifts, talents, both innate to them and given by God. So, do I trust Him that I am worth the investment? I am able to learn and change my understanding about anxieties. I am capable of being assertive and finding resources to guide me as I step forward in faith. Part of the resources I need is to speak out all of my cluttered thoughts and have them labeled with an approach to process it all.
So, I'm stepping up to the challenge and will use all of my resources. I'm looking to start therapy again this week. What resources have you used and how have they shaped your outlook?
Con mucho amor,
~Anna K. Morales
12 April 2016
What is the Purpose of Anxiety?
Lately I've been wondering if I need to change the lens I look through to view anxiety. I seen it as unnecessary worry based on fallacies of thought. Something that moves me toward self-fulfilled prophecies of self-destruction and melt downs.
I was reading something that quoted D&C 58:27, "Verily I say, men should be anxiously engaged in a good cause, and do many things of their own free will, and bring to pass much righteousness;"
It caused me to wonder why I should be anxiously engaged in good. Why doesn't it say deliberately engaged or excitedly engaged?
I began to look at other scripture that cites anxiety. Some made me feel yearning, some hope, some sorrow with a desire for hope. Overall, this short study made me question what the purpose of anxiety is.
I am still reflecting on it. Do I engage in good causes despite anxiety or because of it? Do I harness the energy of my anxiety to action or in-action? I currently feel that anxiety propels me to actions based in fear, shame and irrational thinking. So what needs to change? Is my perspective of anxiety and its purpose just completely off?
D&C 58:27- "For the power is in them, wherein they are agents unto themselves."
Con mucho amor,
~Anna K. Morales
I was reading something that quoted D&C 58:27, "Verily I say, men should be anxiously engaged in a good cause, and do many things of their own free will, and bring to pass much righteousness;"
It caused me to wonder why I should be anxiously engaged in good. Why doesn't it say deliberately engaged or excitedly engaged?
I began to look at other scripture that cites anxiety. Some made me feel yearning, some hope, some sorrow with a desire for hope. Overall, this short study made me question what the purpose of anxiety is.
I am still reflecting on it. Do I engage in good causes despite anxiety or because of it? Do I harness the energy of my anxiety to action or in-action? I currently feel that anxiety propels me to actions based in fear, shame and irrational thinking. So what needs to change? Is my perspective of anxiety and its purpose just completely off?
D&C 58:27- "For the power is in them, wherein they are agents unto themselves."
Con mucho amor,
~Anna K. Morales
28 March 2016
Shame talk vs. Guilt talk
Two weeks ago I listened to a book by Brene Brown called The Gifts of Imperfect Parenting. Yes, I reference her often.
She gave examples of times she tried to teach her children by word but they caught her teaching differently by example. In recognizing this, she would address it with her kids.
I've tried to implement some of what I heard, even though my kids are small, or maybe Because they are small.
I know that I am imperfect, but why do I think my parenting should be perfect?
One thing that I have noticed about my responses to my children's errors is they are based in shame. It doesn't even have to be what I say, usually "Sofia!" or "Lilly!" But the weight of the shame I spread on those names is palpable. When I realized it I decided that I could say something more like, "Uh-oh, could you keep the food on the table?" Or "This is something we would need to clean up right away please." My mom has always told me to teach with positive phrasing, I just barely am grasping that concept though.
Well, I decided to change it, but boy is that hard. Right now I'm onto "SOFia...!" Backtrack..."Uh-oh. will you please not draw there?" So it's coming as a tag-a-long to my original, less shame sounding, response.
The fact of the matter is that we are all learning. I do not have to shame myself for not knowing how to do something. Rather, I can recognize that results aren't what I would like them to be and research. As I implement and learn, I cannot walk away because I'm not perfect at it yet. To finish I want to leave you with a meme that I saw, simple but profound.
She gave examples of times she tried to teach her children by word but they caught her teaching differently by example. In recognizing this, she would address it with her kids.
I've tried to implement some of what I heard, even though my kids are small, or maybe Because they are small.
I know that I am imperfect, but why do I think my parenting should be perfect?
One thing that I have noticed about my responses to my children's errors is they are based in shame. It doesn't even have to be what I say, usually "Sofia!" or "Lilly!" But the weight of the shame I spread on those names is palpable. When I realized it I decided that I could say something more like, "Uh-oh, could you keep the food on the table?" Or "This is something we would need to clean up right away please." My mom has always told me to teach with positive phrasing, I just barely am grasping that concept though.
Well, I decided to change it, but boy is that hard. Right now I'm onto "SOFia...!" Backtrack..."Uh-oh. will you please not draw there?" So it's coming as a tag-a-long to my original, less shame sounding, response.
The fact of the matter is that we are all learning. I do not have to shame myself for not knowing how to do something. Rather, I can recognize that results aren't what I would like them to be and research. As I implement and learn, I cannot walk away because I'm not perfect at it yet. To finish I want to leave you with a meme that I saw, simple but profound.
Con mucho amor,
Anna K. Morales
16 March 2016
Triggers
Meditation is a practice ground for the real world. It is a tool that you use to begin to know your mind and your being in all senses. In doing so you practice patience and love toward whoever your being is. This is the guide/training ground for how you would like to handle your triggers.
Triggers are those things that easily beset you. Today I would like to tell you what some of my triggers are and possibly embarrass myself. But vulnerability leads to better understanding and courage.
******SIGH******
Deep Breath, let it out. Breathe in, 1. Breathe out, 2. I have discovered that I am anxious because I want to be in control of my life. Completely. But who learns to swim with one foot still on the ground?
Areas in my life that easily beset me are finding babysitters for my children, being late, and not having a successful bedtime regimen. These may sound silly but they are also all intertwined. If we don't sleep well at night, I'm late getting up which then explodes in massive domino effect. So then if something goes awry with, let's say, babysitting, I am left with basically two seconds to figure it out. Nigh impossible.
These stressors cause so much havoc in my life. I work for various reasons. It gives me time to think and act like a grown up without children, gives them a chance to see that other people may or may not also be crazy, it currently is helping me pay off debt, and it allows opportunity for me to grow as a creative outlet. However, it nearly undoes me to feel that my efforts are for not.
As I've meditated I've come to realize that those are my triggers and are the moments that I lose any sense of reason. I yell, cry, sob, because I am angry that I have lost control of something that wasn't really mine to control in the first place - like other peoples lives/time. But then, almost as instantly as my tantrum begins, it turns into a tantrum based in shame. I am deeply ashamed that I do not control myself, my emotions, and my reactions to bedtime, being late, and child care. And because shame is not a motivator as guilt could be, I spiral into raging fits of belittling myself and/or my children.
Brene Brown teaches that shame says, You aren't worthy. You aren't good enough. You aren't, you aren't, you aren't. While guilt says, Oh, I made a mistake or a bad decision. I am going to fix it.
Do you see that? Not only does the motivation change, but the speaker. It went from Second person to first person. So rather than listen to someone else dictate my thought process while triggers are pulled, I am learning through meditation to call the shots. Today was a success.
For several reasons, all three of my triggers were pulled. In the middle of my panic attack, I was able to kindly redirect myself. Usually automatic thoughts come flying from my mouth or just permeate my body until all sense or kindness leaves me. Today, I said, "We are ok. We can be a little late. We have babysitting figured out. Heavenly Father showed us He provides. We are ok." Sofia noticed right away that I was creating a difference and she said it with me, We are ok.
It wasn't the cleanest or gentlest redirect but I did it!
Con mucho amor,
~Anna K. Morales
Triggers are those things that easily beset you. Today I would like to tell you what some of my triggers are and possibly embarrass myself. But vulnerability leads to better understanding and courage.
******SIGH******
Deep Breath, let it out. Breathe in, 1. Breathe out, 2. I have discovered that I am anxious because I want to be in control of my life. Completely. But who learns to swim with one foot still on the ground?
Areas in my life that easily beset me are finding babysitters for my children, being late, and not having a successful bedtime regimen. These may sound silly but they are also all intertwined. If we don't sleep well at night, I'm late getting up which then explodes in massive domino effect. So then if something goes awry with, let's say, babysitting, I am left with basically two seconds to figure it out. Nigh impossible.
These stressors cause so much havoc in my life. I work for various reasons. It gives me time to think and act like a grown up without children, gives them a chance to see that other people may or may not also be crazy, it currently is helping me pay off debt, and it allows opportunity for me to grow as a creative outlet. However, it nearly undoes me to feel that my efforts are for not.
As I've meditated I've come to realize that those are my triggers and are the moments that I lose any sense of reason. I yell, cry, sob, because I am angry that I have lost control of something that wasn't really mine to control in the first place - like other peoples lives/time. But then, almost as instantly as my tantrum begins, it turns into a tantrum based in shame. I am deeply ashamed that I do not control myself, my emotions, and my reactions to bedtime, being late, and child care. And because shame is not a motivator as guilt could be, I spiral into raging fits of belittling myself and/or my children.
Brene Brown teaches that shame says, You aren't worthy. You aren't good enough. You aren't, you aren't, you aren't. While guilt says, Oh, I made a mistake or a bad decision. I am going to fix it.
Do you see that? Not only does the motivation change, but the speaker. It went from Second person to first person. So rather than listen to someone else dictate my thought process while triggers are pulled, I am learning through meditation to call the shots. Today was a success.
For several reasons, all three of my triggers were pulled. In the middle of my panic attack, I was able to kindly redirect myself. Usually automatic thoughts come flying from my mouth or just permeate my body until all sense or kindness leaves me. Today, I said, "We are ok. We can be a little late. We have babysitting figured out. Heavenly Father showed us He provides. We are ok." Sofia noticed right away that I was creating a difference and she said it with me, We are ok.
It wasn't the cleanest or gentlest redirect but I did it!
Con mucho amor,
~Anna K. Morales
07 March 2016
The Radio is Always ON
I learned a new term today, mind chatter. It has been stirring in my mind since I left my therapy session. We were talking about getting out of the worry rut, acting once we recognize the possibility of falling into a sink hole. I asked, "So what do you do when you go out to, say, exercise? How do you keep the thoughts at bay? I could be teaching a new choreography and spouting out instruction all the while having a back conversation in my mind."
This my friends, is called mind chatter, or like a radio is on 24/7. So the problem is that I have been paying a lot of attention to the voices of the radio lately. Lately? Maybe I've become more and more attentive as years have passed. The good thing is that now I am recognizing that it doesn't just play my voice. But how did I even get to the point of losing me in the false advertising and shame game show?
I am developing a theory, or is a hypothesis? ;)
Here's where the lately comes in. Lately, I have had extremely harmful thoughts enter my mind of their own accord. Luckily, I noticed how harmful their potential was if acted upon. The more I have dissected my therapy sessions, and the time leading up to getting therapy, I have seen these thoughts present for a while. So why didn't I do something about it earlier? Why had I not labeled the thoughts as invaders?
Commonplace.
Do you listen to music a lot? In your car, from your devices? Watch movies, T.V.? Scroll through online media? What happens when you turn it off? Sometimes I still hear the last song echo in my mind, or see the light of the screen when I close my eyes. When I first learned to drive turning on music was a No-no. It would be a distraction that created higher probability of poor judgment while handling a vehicle. Now, the radio is on, oh AC needs adjusted, phone call, GPS, check for cars, is my mirror crooked (children), etc. Wow, that is a lot going on in a moving vehicle, did the probability for harm lessen? No. But slowly overtime, each of those things became commonplace. Second-nature.
Satan is working hard to do the same thing with my mind. It wasn't always so invasive. But I believe that little by little he's adding flaxen cords.
The harmful thoughts that have entered my mind most likely started as something third party. Something that wasn't tangible or even "thinkable" to be part of my life. Just a very sad something that had happened to other people, something I couldn't fathom.
Just like the radio, the cell phone, and the online media, those passive thoughts became common. Common enough that I started paying attention and then forgot that they weren't generated by me. They never felt like me, never made my soul ring, and the first time the thought was so vivid that it became actively first person, I cried. I cried because the weight of it's intention was too heavy for my soul. That's when I got help.
There is someone who needs to hear me speak about this. Why am I having glimpses of horrible that other people deal with always? I don't know, but the falsity has been too real lately and I am a Warrior, I will not continue to allow the voices of evil be the only ones heard. Never stop fighting, never lose touch with your soul, with what you really have to say. It's your talk show, be heard.
Con mucho amor,
~Anna K. Morales
This my friends, is called mind chatter, or like a radio is on 24/7. So the problem is that I have been paying a lot of attention to the voices of the radio lately. Lately? Maybe I've become more and more attentive as years have passed. The good thing is that now I am recognizing that it doesn't just play my voice. But how did I even get to the point of losing me in the false advertising and shame game show?
I am developing a theory, or is a hypothesis? ;)
Here's where the lately comes in. Lately, I have had extremely harmful thoughts enter my mind of their own accord. Luckily, I noticed how harmful their potential was if acted upon. The more I have dissected my therapy sessions, and the time leading up to getting therapy, I have seen these thoughts present for a while. So why didn't I do something about it earlier? Why had I not labeled the thoughts as invaders?
Commonplace.
Do you listen to music a lot? In your car, from your devices? Watch movies, T.V.? Scroll through online media? What happens when you turn it off? Sometimes I still hear the last song echo in my mind, or see the light of the screen when I close my eyes. When I first learned to drive turning on music was a No-no. It would be a distraction that created higher probability of poor judgment while handling a vehicle. Now, the radio is on, oh AC needs adjusted, phone call, GPS, check for cars, is my mirror crooked (children), etc. Wow, that is a lot going on in a moving vehicle, did the probability for harm lessen? No. But slowly overtime, each of those things became commonplace. Second-nature.
Satan is working hard to do the same thing with my mind. It wasn't always so invasive. But I believe that little by little he's adding flaxen cords.
 |
| source |
The harmful thoughts that have entered my mind most likely started as something third party. Something that wasn't tangible or even "thinkable" to be part of my life. Just a very sad something that had happened to other people, something I couldn't fathom.
Just like the radio, the cell phone, and the online media, those passive thoughts became common. Common enough that I started paying attention and then forgot that they weren't generated by me. They never felt like me, never made my soul ring, and the first time the thought was so vivid that it became actively first person, I cried. I cried because the weight of it's intention was too heavy for my soul. That's when I got help.
There is someone who needs to hear me speak about this. Why am I having glimpses of horrible that other people deal with always? I don't know, but the falsity has been too real lately and I am a Warrior, I will not continue to allow the voices of evil be the only ones heard. Never stop fighting, never lose touch with your soul, with what you really have to say. It's your talk show, be heard.
Con mucho amor,
~Anna K. Morales
02 March 2016
In the Midst of Silence
I have had laryngitis for three days now. It has caused deep reflection on what I say to my children, my husband, and how I say it.
The anxiety I have felt in my life has reflected itself in various ways over the years. When I was a teenager and had experienced some life altering hardships, I hyperventilated often. At first, it was the only thing my body could do to exude EVERYTHING that was happening inside of my mind and emotions. It was just all too much. After a while though, when I felt I was beginning to get a handle on things but would still hyperventilate, I think I feared the pain and helplessness of the panic attack more than anything. Which of course only made the episode come on much faster and last longer. It hurts you know, your lungs feel like they will explode, your muscles like they will snap, and your skin like you've been stuck with needles in every pore.
During that time doctors had me take a lot of tests: iron levels, sugar levels, etc. But they also had me do survey type things to see if I was depressed. Depression never was the conclusion.
Other times in my life, I felt like I had a lot of control over me and my situations- i.e. college. I didn't hyperventilate, or have panic attacks as often and life seemed to blossom. I had a lot of classes that forced me to look at my life objectively and analyze it. After my mission, I didn't panic at all. I felt so much freedom and capability. Though I would say my anxiety still showed through in small ways at the time. In dance classes I was often critiqued as never fully releasing- "Let your head go, release your neck! Release the energy." You have to have a certain balance of centering/core and release in dance. If everything is tight you will seize up and it makes ongoing turns impossible and your leaps just don't seem as gravity defying because your holding that final upward breath back.
Now my anxiety is vividly returning by way of anger, impatience and silent fears. I experienced Postpartum Depression and it unlocked that hidden box of anxiety. I always used to say that if I was upset, sad or stressed it was ok to feel the emotion. But I never really experienced it in a healthy way. I would lock things into boxes and then they would explode out of me when they surpassed their limits.
I am currently seeing the difference between anxiety and depression. Shortly after my son's birth I felt like a black cloud lived in my being. How do you shoo it away without shooing yourself away? I thought I couldn't. It infuriated me that I was out of control. I often felt like I was having out of body experiences as I found myself screaming at my children, scaring them. Afterward I plagued myself with shame. How could I do this to my children? Why can't I control my emotions? Well, it is because anxiety reigns in my head.
I am currently learning the art of Meditating. As mentioned in my previous post my paradigm is shifting. I am practicing allowing thoughts to float by like clouds. Or fall like leaves to the ground, and if they are malicious I watch them fall into a creek and float away (harder said than done).
Well, this has been magnified these last few days. My biggest struggle in an anxious state is that when I am feeling it strongly I tend to clam up while thoughts yell in my head, or I simply do not filter any thoughts and they come shooting out in raucous yelling and anger. Because I am unable to yell or hardly speak at this time, I feel like my mind is winding into a silence I have never known.
The anxiety has allowed anger, frustration, and impatience to have its way. But it hurts too much to try to yell. So I haven't. I take a deep breath and look at my approach. Does what I have to say need to be yelled? Most likely not. I find myself yelling when the girls fight, but they need a breath. They need a role model, do I have to be perfect? No. But I do have to take the time to catch the appropriate thoughts as they fall and let anything else float by.
Con mucho amor,
~Anna K. Morales
The anxiety I have felt in my life has reflected itself in various ways over the years. When I was a teenager and had experienced some life altering hardships, I hyperventilated often. At first, it was the only thing my body could do to exude EVERYTHING that was happening inside of my mind and emotions. It was just all too much. After a while though, when I felt I was beginning to get a handle on things but would still hyperventilate, I think I feared the pain and helplessness of the panic attack more than anything. Which of course only made the episode come on much faster and last longer. It hurts you know, your lungs feel like they will explode, your muscles like they will snap, and your skin like you've been stuck with needles in every pore.
During that time doctors had me take a lot of tests: iron levels, sugar levels, etc. But they also had me do survey type things to see if I was depressed. Depression never was the conclusion.
Other times in my life, I felt like I had a lot of control over me and my situations- i.e. college. I didn't hyperventilate, or have panic attacks as often and life seemed to blossom. I had a lot of classes that forced me to look at my life objectively and analyze it. After my mission, I didn't panic at all. I felt so much freedom and capability. Though I would say my anxiety still showed through in small ways at the time. In dance classes I was often critiqued as never fully releasing- "Let your head go, release your neck! Release the energy." You have to have a certain balance of centering/core and release in dance. If everything is tight you will seize up and it makes ongoing turns impossible and your leaps just don't seem as gravity defying because your holding that final upward breath back.
Now my anxiety is vividly returning by way of anger, impatience and silent fears. I experienced Postpartum Depression and it unlocked that hidden box of anxiety. I always used to say that if I was upset, sad or stressed it was ok to feel the emotion. But I never really experienced it in a healthy way. I would lock things into boxes and then they would explode out of me when they surpassed their limits.
I am currently seeing the difference between anxiety and depression. Shortly after my son's birth I felt like a black cloud lived in my being. How do you shoo it away without shooing yourself away? I thought I couldn't. It infuriated me that I was out of control. I often felt like I was having out of body experiences as I found myself screaming at my children, scaring them. Afterward I plagued myself with shame. How could I do this to my children? Why can't I control my emotions? Well, it is because anxiety reigns in my head.
I am currently learning the art of Meditating. As mentioned in my previous post my paradigm is shifting. I am practicing allowing thoughts to float by like clouds. Or fall like leaves to the ground, and if they are malicious I watch them fall into a creek and float away (harder said than done).
Well, this has been magnified these last few days. My biggest struggle in an anxious state is that when I am feeling it strongly I tend to clam up while thoughts yell in my head, or I simply do not filter any thoughts and they come shooting out in raucous yelling and anger. Because I am unable to yell or hardly speak at this time, I feel like my mind is winding into a silence I have never known.
The anxiety has allowed anger, frustration, and impatience to have its way. But it hurts too much to try to yell. So I haven't. I take a deep breath and look at my approach. Does what I have to say need to be yelled? Most likely not. I find myself yelling when the girls fight, but they need a breath. They need a role model, do I have to be perfect? No. But I do have to take the time to catch the appropriate thoughts as they fall and let anything else float by.
Con mucho amor,
~Anna K. Morales
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