In the Moment

It was cold again today. I washed my hair, which is always somewhat of an adventure in really cold weather. It always feels kind of like one solid thing when it's wet. That's always really interesting to me. I love it when my body does things it doesn't normally do, well you know, within reason. I don't like it when my body bleeds uncontrollably or gets cancer.

I was reading an article today about a woman who was apologizing to her body for all the punishing and shaming things she does to it. At one point, she talked about how her body does all these amazing things like let her see and touch and feel, and yet she constantly stays angry at it for not being perfect. It was an interesting perspective, though I felt perhaps she was a bit too down on herself, basically blaming her mind instead of her body at one point. Still, I got the idea. This body is part of me and does a lot of really great things for me. I should respect that and love it.

In therapy, I work a lot on mindfulness and understanding how to connect with the NOW and with who I am in the moment. It's not always easy. In fact, it's usually not easy at all because my mind would rather be anywhere else other than in the moment. A few weeks ago, we worked on this thing where I had to write down as many of my thoughts as I could in three minutes. They were everywhere, jumbled impressions of things, questions about those impressions, mental notes to myself, and so many other things besides what was going on with the connection between my mind and my body.

Being mindful of your surroundings is very useful. If you are aware of what is really happening, you'll be able to note when  things begin to go wrong. "Oh, I got nervous because . . ." or "I started binge eating because  . . ." When you see the triggers, you can learn to avoid them, or at least process them in a more positive manner. At least, in theory.

So what am I experiencing right now? Well, clearly the sound and feel of my keyboard. It's probably one of the things I experience most in my life. Now I'm thinking about how funny it is that I learned to type, not because of a typing class (even though I took one), but because of chatting to other people. I can also hear my oxygen machine and feel the slight pressure of the cannula in my nose. There is also a slight pressure on my leg, because one of my cats is sitting on it. The lower half of my body is warm, the upper half is okay, aside from my fingers, which are cold. Probably because of this keyboard.

Of course, tons of other things are going on as well, but I can't type fast enough to snap all of them. Oh, the cat just bit me. This happens more often than I'd like.