Finished with the past
"You may be finished with the past, but the past isn’t finished with you."Have you heard this adage?The exhibition, Stories I’m Telling Myself, is finished. It exists online—as a collection of images and brief written reflections and a series of audio recordings I'm so proud of. As far as my thesis committee and degree granting body are concerned, I can move on.
Finished. Or not...
The work is finished. I celebrate this milestone and my participation in recovery that made the work possible. But I also circle back. I mull over the fraught past that precipitated the work. I commit to continued personal growth and healing. This is not unlike my response to the news of the election outcome. Because yes, the work is finished as far as who is the next leader of the country. I’m celebrating so BIG! But to move on with integrity means acknowledging that the work is not finished. Consider with me in dreadful awe how many people in our country—neighbors, family, coworkers—prefer the current administration and support it.
Holding my Breath
This week was one of holding my breath. As I write, my body lets go with a long exhale. For now. The lead up to Tuesday and the long pause to count every vote (because they all matter) triggered me. The uncertainty plunged me back to childhood. As a ten-year-old, I knew the distress and tension of waiting and wondering. Worried about how an event or series of events would unfold. Would there be impatience, scolding, disconnection? Would there be calm but measured punishment? Or, would luck rescue me? Would someone else eclipse my disappointing action, would something else take the focus away from my shortcoming? Words don't always work to convey a feeling or meaning. So I channeled those memories into making.[gallery type="slideshow" size="large" ids="8413,8412,8409,8405,8407,8406,8404,8403,8400,8411,8398,8397,8396,8401"]Sometimes called Breathing Lessons, or also simply Lessons (Louise Bourgeois named and renamed her work, so I can too), the series examines my relationship with anxiety, distrust, distress conveyed through breathing. As you look at the forms and the materials, what words come to mind for you? I really want to know.This sense of holding my breath comes up even now. I am sideswiped by bad faith where I’ve shown up wholeheartedly. Or my character is questioned, not by a stranger, but by a familiar. Suddenly, I am ten years old; I forget what is my work and what is not. I feel responsible for regulating the emotions of someone else. It is my job to manage their expectations and feelings. I hold my breath, wondering when the other shoe will drop. The lingering wound: They don’t trust me; how can I trust me?
The Relief of Exhale
The relief of the long, slow exhale—both corporeal and emotional—is hard won. So many messages and beliefs were sewn in my mind and grew into the survival strategy of holding my breath—aka holding dread, fear, self-doubt. Thank goodness for skilled therapists and the work of Brené Brown!My therapists and Brown’s books and podcast Unlocking Us (highly recommend) give me vocabulary and emotional strength. I need these to talk about and look into the face of self-loathing and it’s twin, self-distrust that grew with the dread belief that I'm here to manage 1) what others think of me, 2) how they feel about the ways I move through the world.
Respiration
The cycle of respiration is magnificent in its simultaneous simplicity and sophistication. Breathe in. Breathe out. We're born knowing how. Then shit happens and we begin holding our breath. We need breathing lessons.With mindful intention, I move from distrust (sucking in and holding air) to trust (letting it go, gently taking it in). Trust of self. Trust of another. Yes, there are times to step away. Times for caution. Boundaries are wonderful! Breathing is easier with boundaries. My point is: I don’t wish to hold my breath any longer—in doubt of myself or in suspicion and fear of another.Listen to Brené’s Anatomy of Trust. She illustrates how trust of others and trust of self are woven together. Worth your time.
Move On
We are finished with this election. As a country we can move on. But the past isn’t finished with us. We can hold our breath, or we can hyperventilate. But I suggest we can find a way to engage, and do the work: Breathe in. Breathe out.I argue that we can move on and hold the past. We can practice hope, and recognize despair. A new administrative team just won the election. As we have daily proof, systemic racism is alive and there are many invested in its continuation. We've voted out the administration overtly invested in this system. Now the new one has a lot of hope to live up to.Oh so many folks feel cheated or angry about the election. I can curate suspicion and distance myself from those people, in my own brand of divisiveness and isolation. Or, I can trust that each of us really is doing the best we can with what we’ve got. In her book Rising Strong, Brown argues the value of this approach in a chapter called “Sewer Rats and Scofflaws”. It may piss you off, but it will make you think.Choosing to trust that we’re each doing the best we can, I’m excited to introduce my current work entitled Who Is My Neighbor? My self- appointed goal: talk with my neighbors. Listen to their stories. It is not my job to fix how they feel, or change how they think. But I believe that in listening to one story at a time there is hope, even if only a shadow (hat-tip: Austin Channing Brown). My desire: to see them, hear them, and maybe come to know the loves and fears that enliven them. More on this project in future entries. For now—Breathe in. Breathe out.