It's interesting to be in the middle of a thousand things and still be able to find some sense of peace. My mind likes to second guess it at first, a short and messy mindfulness practice when I can get to it or prioritize it. The parts of ourselves that like to keep a running list of things that aren't done yet, of phones calls we've been putting off making, of the dishes in the sink.

But mindfulness, in the moment, can include those things as long as we place them on a little cloud and watch them float away in the mind's eye. I rely on nature to bring me back to the present, because its beauty calls me inward - reflecting something perhaps.

Today, as I sat quietly on my porch it was the deep, bright blue of the sky. The lush green of the leaves on the trees after a few days of rain. The warbling of the wrens and the faint tinkering of the wind chimes behind me. Nature is not always quiet, but it knows how to quiet our thoughts and pull us into the present. For that, I'm grateful.

...

It’s not gone. It’s just quieter, I think as I take a second bite of the salmon. I’m still often weighing the effects of different foods on my body. I am still often reminding myself with first or third bites that what I’m ingesting is not going to have adverse affects. Sometimes I know it will and am willing to take the risks (sugar) and other times it’s enough to stop me mid-bite and reassess the whole situation. I’ll eat around the offending piece. I’ll slyly slip the dog some morsels so it isn’t wasted. 

OCD isn’t gone. It’s managed and settled. It’s livable.

I don’t really want to go anywhere.

Not sure how much covid is a reason or an excuse.

I am taking many good, long, hard looks in the mirror--especially after disagreements about exposures and decisions. 

The dark night of the soul, they call it. But I had that years ago. I only get glimpses now and am able to acknowledge and work with what...

I’m continually referring back to my teachers--the ones I want to be like, emulate their ability to stay centered amid chaos. I’m better at it myself these days, one of the benefits I guess of a world wide pandemic is that on the other side of sheer panic is a choice to surrender.

I take mindfulness classes. And remember to look in front of me and around me and see the beauty. The stubble of my teenage son’s face reminding me of the passage of time, and the sound of laughter as he and his sisters play another round of rummikub. 

I have all that I need. I am lucky. There is food, shelter, and love. What else on earth do I need?

Suddenly, I feel stripped of the need to strive for something grand. I have always wanted to do big things, and at the root never understood that it was because I wanted to feel important. Like I meant something to the world around me.

 July 19, 2020

But I’m learning, too, that that is a given. I AM enough. I am already...

I’ve written a lot about how it all started--the foods slowly removed, one by one, as my belly ached or the news report of another e.coli or salmonella outbreak. Red meat. Lettuce. My beloved ranch dressing. 

I’ve written about how, over the span of a few months, my weight dropped and my handwashing went up exponentially. Hotter water. More soap. Do it again.

What I haven’t written about is the lingering anxiety that rears its head in certain situations, generally social, when there is less knowledge about ingredients and more probability of cross contamination with others’ hands or breath.

OCD isn’t gone. It’s settled and re-related to. Exposures help, as does a really good support system.

And now, 13 years since severe onset, 10 years since official diagnosis, and 8 years since beginning Cognitive Behavior Therapy and winning a bunch of anxiety wins, we are living in a new era where a lot of people around me are carrying hand sanitizer,...

It's getting closer. I am doing and saying all the things I know need to be done and said, but I am scared. Petrified, actually. 

I know I am so damn lucky to live in a place and be in a profession that has covid vaccines available. My partner just got his second one this week, and my dad got his first. Oh goodness, to be able to be with my parents again. It will be a sweet dream come true. 

But I don't want it. 

No, I'm not an anti-vaxxer. My kids are all up to date and I got a tetanus shot two years ago (you can find that fun video story in my FB history). I believe in the miracles of modern science (in addition to the spiritual science of all things!). 

But I just don't want it in me. No shots. No medicines. 

I get migraines that last three days and I'm only willing to take Tylenol.

I barely take my multivitamin, not because I don't remember, but because I pretend to forget.

Phobias, OCD, anxiety--whatever you want to call it. My mind swirls with refusals...