Funneling Exercise: Admired and Called

Compassionate Creative Brave Love Smart

February 23rd on Facebook, friend and poet extraordinaire Ra Avis shared this funneling exercise that helps when you feel pulled in many directions:

  • Write the names of five people you admire most.
  • For each, write eight one-word descriptors that define why you admire them.
  • Circle words that appear more than once.
  • Put in order of how often they appear (most to least).
  • Top three are character traits you’re being called to focus on.

My Results

The people I admired were Ra Avis, Sarah Fader, my husband, my mother, and my son.

Attributes

  • Compassionate (3)
  • Creative (3)
  • Brave (3)
  • Love (3)
  • Smart (3)

After doing the exercise, I realized that I live the attributes I admire. Yay!

Memory: A Poem

Not too good with time -- Past, Present, Future. My mind erases what is not in front of me. Too many other thoughts and concerns competing for my attention. --Kitt O'Malley

Hypomanic: Something Had to Break

Something Had to Break

Hypomanic

Irritable

On verge of tears

Over-stimulated

Over-scheduled

Too many demands

Too many changes

Too soon

Must scale back

Spoke to psychologist

Contacted psychiatrist

In bed

Resting

Now

 

Creative Writing Prompt: Rainstorm

Irainstorm

Prompt for first creative writing class: RAINSTORM

Rainstorm

The torrential rain kept her awake. She couldn’t sleep. Wasn’t rain supposed to be relaxing? What was it that disturbed her? Why could she not sleep? The rain didn’t lull her, it irritated her. Reminded her that all was not well. The hills may slide. The mud carrying all away. But she was safe. Wasn’t she?

Was it anxiety? Was it caffeine? Was it simply the din amplified by hypomania? Yes, when in this state any noise irritated her. What the hell did she think she was doing this week? Starting to rewrite her book, take a creative writing class, and work out with a personal trainer on the same week her son began college.

He wasn’t away for college. Oh, no. He was attending the local community college and didn’t yet drive. So, on top of everything else, she remained his chauffeur. Fuck. He was getting better. He was more independent than before, but he still relied on her to drive him to classes and to doctors’ appointments. He still didn’t prepare his own breakfast and lunch. He’d just eat a protein bar and banana. At six feet tall and 125 pounds, he needed to eat more.

Caring for him, worrying about him, wore on her. She had hoped that he’d be eating more by now, that he’d make a sandwich or eat a bowl of cereal. She had hoped that he’d feel ready to take his DMV written test, so he could learn to drive.

Though, really, the time that they spent in the car was their special time. Often he wore his headset and cut her off from him. But, there were times when they talked, when they laughed, when he shared his thoughts with her

Back to the storm. Crap transition, but the rainstorm felt like her life. Stormy, but cleansing.