January 17, 2001
In which I unexpectedly make two
new year’s resolutions
Last night I went to see Janet, my
therapist. I have been seeing her off and on for the last three years, with a break of
about 8 months during 1999. Oh, and we take summers off, too. I go once every two or three
weeks for an hour session, which seems to be about right for me at this moment in my life.
I used to go just about once a month, but since the miscarriage it has been a little more
regular and frequent.
A short digression: there was a time when
I could not have imagined going to therapy less frequently than once a week. When I first
started seeing a counselor, back in college, we were doing the kind of tough work that
absolutely requires frequent meetings. The kind where you schedule the sessions for after
all your classes, because at the end of it you're completely exhausted. It was very good,
but very hard. When I started seeing Janet on this every-other-week schedule back in 1998,
I was pretty skeptical about how much good it would do. In retrospect, I have to say it’s
definitely been beneficial, but in a different way from before. I feel a lot more in
control of what we do in therapy than I did when my life was a big mess. It’s like
therapy has become a tool for me to use to figure stuff out, rather than being my
salvation. That’s a good shift.
Anyway, a couple of weeks ago we were
talking about how my stress of late has been manifesting itself physically, and I
mentioned that I would like to learn more relaxation techniques to deal with it myself. I
have been suffering from all kinds of problems that I suspect are more related to my
mental stress than to any physical cause. Everything from severe headaches (caused by a
jaw clenched like a vise) to a sore elbow. I’m working on the problems that cause the
stress, but I also thought it would be a good idea to address the physical manifestation
of it as well. So last night I worked on achieving the relaxation
response.
I
sit in a chair with my eyes closed, and concentrate on my breathing. I slowly become
conscious of my body, the space it occupies in the room, the way the air passes in and out
of my lungs. I breathe deeply, allowing my abdomen to expand with every breath. After a
few minutes, as I breathe in, I begin to imagine the air entering my body and filling it,
past my lungs, past my belly, down my legs, into my feet and toes. As I exhale, I imagine
the air flowing back through my body and out my mouth. Then, as I continue to breathe, I
focus my attention on the different parts of my body, relaxing them one by one. I begin
with my feet and work slowly up my body to my head and face. I scan my body, looking for
places where tension is gathering in my muscles or causing discomfort. I consciously
direct my body to relax, part by part. Now, when I focus on my breathing, my arms and legs
become very heavy and my hands and feet tingle. I become very aware of gravity holding me
down. It feels very safe.
Once I began to experience the relaxation
response, I allowed my mind to wander to a safe place. I found myself focusing on a place
I have seen only in a photograph, a field of lavender in France. I imagined myself there,
under a tree, with my green blanket, listening to the insects buzzing in the summer
stillness.
 I lie on the ground beneath a tree in a lavender field.
My blanket feels smooth and worn beneath my hands, but it protects me from the hardy
stalks of the lavender bushes. The field almost shimmers with the heat and energy of sun.
The bright, hot field makes a sharp contrast to the dark coolness under the tree. Distant
birdsong and the humming of bees are the only sounds. I continue to breathe deeply,
noticing the faint, sharp taste of lavender in my mouth as I inhale.
It’s interesting to me
that the subconscious is so well-equipped to provide comfort, if we can only access it. A
few years ago, when I did this same type of exercise with another therapist, I traveled in
my mind to a house I had known all my life.  At the time, it did not seem significant that my mind chose that
house as a relaxation tool. It was clearly a place I felt comfortable, where I had spent
countless happy hours as a child. Now I realize that it was particularly appropriate for
my situation: I was seeing a therapist to deal with my overwhelming fears about moving
from Pennsylvania to Connecticut. I had been nearly paralyzed by my fears about what would
happen when I moved to a new state. Looking back, I understand better why my mind fixed on
the image of this well-loved house to ease me past the fears of moving to yet another new
home.
I have read that when one is in practice,
the relaxation response can be achieved very quickly with just a few deep breaths and the
mental repetition of a trigger word. I am making this my goal over the next few months.
My natural state seems to be one of
clutter. I forget, sometimes, that not everyone is like this, until I visit someone else’s
house or office and see that every surface is empty of piles and papers. I am always
amazed -- and envious -- that people manage to live like that. Where's all the stuff?
I have a very strong suspicion that the
clutter in my house and life is a reflection of my mental clutter, my tendency towards
fragmentation. So, I wonder if doing something about my cluttered house would help me
learn to focus mentally. Or whether getting more mental focus would help me unclutter my
house?
On the other hand, I quite like some
aspects of my “cluttered” lifestyle. I enjoy having a lot of people in my life,
very different people who don’t all necessarily fit together. I like having a lot of
projects going at once, because I enjoy the variety and the challenge. The problem is,
when there’s too much going on, I don’t always get things accomplished.
Several months ago, when I was moaning
about the clutter in my house, Maria suggested to me that I take the house room by room,
and spend a fixed amount of time on clearing the clutter each day. I did it for awhile,
and it definitely helped. Then I got busy, or pregnant, or something, and the clutter
project fell off my list.
It was a great idea, though. And I think
it would really work.
So I am making this my other goal for the
next few months: to set aside time each day to attack the clutter. Twenty minutes a day
should make quite a dent. And I will keep a written record of where I work on
uncluttering, so I can see how well it works.
And I thought I wasn’t really making
any resolutions this year. Huh. Shows what I know. |
