Embracing Limitations: Or, What I Learned at Polycon

You don’t get to choose your parents, your metamours, or your triggers. Triggers? Those are the people, the situations, the news, the events that cause you to become irrationally angry, jealous, scared. Triggers cause minor or major panic attacks, and often inspire me to lunge for the Xanax.

Some triggers you are aware of. You know when to expect their arrival. When he spends the night at her house; when everyone goes out together on the night I work; getting cut off on the highway; or, mentally calculating the best price on vitamin brands at the grocery while two over-tired children scream at each other, attracting the attention of everyone within a 10 ft. radius. (Not that I’ve ever experienced that before …)

Then there are the times when triggers sneak up on you. Surprise! It’s not okay for you to wear the dress I bought you on a date with him. Surprise! Roses? My stupid crazy ex-boyfriend used to buy me roses! How could you? Surprise! I’m okay with you dating girls but not guys!

Some might call these weaknesses, but instead, I’ve upgraded their status to “limitations”. Limitations are the boundaries (permanent or temporary) within which we can work effectively. Trying to work outside our limitations only brings negative consequences. For example, a food allergy can be a personal limitation. Sure that cake, ice cream, garbage pail full of everything you want to engorge on looks great. But indulging in your personal limitation will only bring undesired consequences. It is the same with relationship limitations.

Working With Limitations

Does this mean it is impossible to move beyond your limitations? Sometimes. There are some limitations you can work on, become better at, adapt strategies for. You can be gentler, more approachable, more intelligible, more knowledgeable. But then there are some limitations you just have to respect.

All my life I have struggled with meeting new people and going to unfamiliar places. When I was younger, my strategy was to avoid them.  As you can imagine, I was lonely and eventually my desire to change was stronger than my fear of the unknown. Recently, I was reading about a condition known as Avoidant Personality Disorder. While I do not claim to have said disorder, I do identify with some of its components.

For Avoidants, being in certain social situations, or even just around strangers, or in public at all, causes stress which produces a chemical reaction in the body. Some become paralyzed with fear, anxiety, or even panic to the point where they cannot bring themselves to go to work or the grocery store. There are different degrees of the disorder. And the goal is to work on strategies which allow the individual to perform the necessary tasks despite the chemical imbalance.

I feel this stress even just thinking about new venues and people. Sometimes the chemical reaction begins before I even get there. In many ways, I have been able to overcome some of these obstacles in no small part with the help of TheLordofDarkness.

But even now, in social situations with people I don’t know, I can feel the panic rising in my chest. Cognitively, I know there is no reason to panic, but I still feel it. And I know I’ve reached my limit when strangers (or people I’ve only just met) infiltrate my personal space bubble. It’s more than I am able to handle. This is my limitation and this is the time for me to walk away.

I’m furious with myself of course.

This past weekend, TheLordofDarkness and I attended BeyondThe Love polycon. I observed how easily he navigates through what seems to me an obstacle course of

anxiety. Him and others make friends, new partners, hookups look easy. Fun, even.  Damn, them.

Someday, with practice and lots of support from partners and friends, I may be able to work past this limitation. But for now, I know this is my stop and I get off the bus.

Embracing Limits

It’s easy to beat myself up over what I can’t do. Instead, I consciously choose to see my limitations as the other side of my strengths, the things I love about myself. I am very sensitive and take things way too personally some of the time. It is also my sensitivity that gives me a deep level of empathy for others, especially those I’m close to. 

It is my sensitivity which causes my relationships with partners and close friends to be deep, meaningful, and life-long partnerships regardless of how the structure of the relationship changes. I love this about myself. I desire and cherish these relationships. And I would never change it.

Punishing myself for not being what others are or what others expect me to be, accomplishes nothing. Forcing myself beyond what I am reasonably comfortable with only makes me miserable.

It is by embracing my limitations, and affirming them as strengths that I create space to grow. Loving and compassionate people inspire us to learn and grow. Negativity and condemnation only cause us to clam up, hide, and give up. Why shouldn’t we treat ourselves, our limitations, with kindness?

Thoughts on The Game that Detects a Cheating Spouse

I realize I have been ignoring the religion part of this blog lately. And I was all set to give you another installment of My Favorite Bible Stories. Until this story caught my eye.

It’s a fictional story about a man who successfully maintains a “respectable” job and family life, while sneaking off with a girlfriend a couple times a year. This cliché continues until the development of an app which detects the brain’s instinctual recognition response, something to do with P300. Read more about the P300. In the story, the app is called The Game that Detects a Cheating Spouse.

The point Bruce Kasanoff is making involves easily accessible technology which is able to instantly and accurately tell when you're lying. While there is an obvious connection with relationships and cheating, Kasanoff remarks that such technology concepts could also be applied to situations such as lying at work, or anywhere else you find it easy to be economical with the truth.  Kasanoff says, “What will life be like when the truth becomes inescapable?”

Well said.

But I want to take this beyond obvious lies; cheating, stealing, willful deception. Not a human on earth would deny having told at least a few “white lies” in their lifetime. In fact, I would venture to guess, most of us tell white lies several times a day. We lie to keep from hurting someone’s feelings, such as That is the world’s most god-awful lipstick. A world where you can’t successfully lie about your boss's new plaid blazer would be different indeed.

Then there are the lies we tell, the carefully plotted deceptions we construct, to keep others from seeing our

weaknesses, our insecurities. Like when we laugh at a joke because everyone else is laughing, even though we don’t really get it. Or, we nod along, even when we have no idea what someone is talking about. 

The scarier deceptions come when we’re hurt by someone or something, but we can’t bring ourselves to talk about it. So we pretend it doesn't exist. This may preserve our feelings for a little while, but it’s still lying. And like any lie, you have to keep lying in order to keep it hidden. And keeping anything hidden, never feels good for long.

Even though the story is about cheating, what I’m talking about is self-actualization, fulfilling your mental needs and reaching your full potential. What this story brought to my attention was … how much I don’t lie anymore. To anyone, about anything.

It’s not just about having open and honest poly relationships. Though that’s part of it. I also see how I have finally come to a place where I am comfortable with my weaknesses and my insecurities. I have on occasion taken them out and laid them on the table where anyone who cared could see them. Not for pity, but merely because I had nothing to hide. Here they are! I know they’re stupid, childish, petty, maybe even unnecessary. I acknowledge them. I embrace them. And I don’t expect anyone but myself to deal with them. Though I’m not above assistance every now and then.

Recently, while in the process of making a fool out of myself, someone told me: “I’m not laughing with you, I’m laughing at you.” But here’s the problem with that. As long as I own my foolishness, as long as I think it’s just as foolish as you think it is, as long as I’m laughing too, I cannot be laughed at. When my weaknesses are revealed, intentionally or accidentally, the way I see it, you have only two choices. You can laugh along with me, because I find my stupidity to be endlessly amusing. Or, you can choose not laugh. And neither choice will bother me.

I literally have nothing to lose because I have nothing to hide. Even if I were to lose the people and the things that are important to me, I still have the knowledge that I have nothing to hide. I don’t feel the need to lie about my insecurities or blunders to win someone’s affections. Such people aren't worth my time anyway. And though my opinions about how others dress, or speak, or conduct themselves might hurt someone's feelings, I am not ashamed of them. I do my best to conceal these truths for their sake. But I have no fear of them being revealed.

Are you Liar, Liar, pants on fire! ?

All of this freedom, to not have to lie about my opinions, my feelings, my truly most embarrassing moments … all of this I attribute to the secure sensation of absolute happiness I've had of late. I have nothing to fear, and so the world is my playground.

What insecurities are you hiding? What would happen if you revealed them?

Why I Love Wildflowers: And Why You Won't Find Them on OKCupid

Janapnese Meadow Rue
Spiraea japonica

I'm a sucker for wildflowers. In fact, just know, if you are hiking with me: THIS HIKER MAKES FREQUENT STOPS. Classifying wildflowers is one of my favorite reasons to hike. Once identified, I loudly pronounce its name at every occurrence, mostly so I won't forget it. Wood-Sorrel. Rattlesnake Hawkweed. Rue-Anemone. Also, to annoy you.

Why do I love them so much? Probably for the same reason I like polyamory (and variety in general). Wildflowers are amazing because they are unexpected. There I am hiking along, tired, sweaty, thirsty. I come around a switchback and suddenly a hillside full of Brook Meadowrue takes my breath away. Meadowrues are my particular favorite.

I record the flowers I've met in my field guide, as well as the time of year and trail where I saw them. Some flowers I have seen hundreds of times. Thyme-Leaved Bluets are everywhere. Even out of season, I can recognize the wildflowers I've previously identified. In fact, it's hard for me not to see them. Because I'm looking for them.

Relationships can be this way too. (Oh, yeah, I'm also a sucker for metaphors.) What makes a finding a relationship so wonderful is when you don't really expect it. Whether it's that "friend" you've had forever who suddenly notices you, or that cute guy at work, or the ever-so-rare OKCupid matchup (does this ever really happen?!) it feels miraculous. "Wait, you feel the same way I do?"

Then there are those days, usually when it's raining, where it feels like I've hiked for miles and not spotted anything noteworthy. Hunting for the proverbial unicorn, if you will. There are many plants in my field guide that I have never and may never see.

Green Dragon
Arisaema dracontium

This makes me think of the countless hours you can spend on OKCupid and still come up with nothing. Sure, it can be frustrating, but then, most things in life happen this way. The more you look for something, the harder it seems it is to find it. Additionally, you're not going to improve your chances by making your ideal romantic partner the ever elusive Green Dragon (see photo). How I would love to see one of those some day.

Does that mean I cease hiking through the woods? If I do then my chances of spotting the Green Dragon are zero or worse. Whether hunting for plants or partners, you press on. You continue to hike, to search, to tweak your profile to attract just the right mate. And regardless of the results, keep putting one squashy wet boot in front of the other like the happy hiker you are.

What's been bending my ear lately (and I realize this is not a new problem) is the constant complaining (I think it's complaining anyway) on all forums poly about How do I find someone? Where do I meet people? Why doesn't OKCupid work? 

How do you meet someone? That's easy, go out and talk to people! Where? Anywhere that people are. They're not hard to find, shockingly. But they're probably not poly. They won't want to date me. Is this all that people are to you? Potential dates? People are like plants, there are many of them and oftentimes there are far too many of the status quo. (Damn ferns!) But that's what makes wildflowers so beautiful! They stand out. And these people, the ones who stand out, are worth meeting, whether they are potential mates or not. These are the people who challenge you and change you. They are worth endless days of hiking just to catch a glimpse of because they are so rare and beautiful.

When you are lucky enough to find that rare and beautiful flower, do you scoop it up quickly and run away into the night, laughing manically (... clearly I've been watching too much kid's television). Poaching is a real crime that state and national parks deal with, sadly. Besides depriving the plant of it's chosen environment, poachers also deprive the rest of us of their beauty. Even worse than that, in my opinion, is how relocating a wildflower converts it to a domestic flower, essentially detracting the very thing that makes it so extraordinary in the first place. The fact that it's survival does not depend on humanity at all. That it is wild.

Poaching is a dangerous habit with lovers too. Not only will the thing you desire begin to lose its desirable qualities, but, in the end, you will end up hurting the very thing you are trying to love. You will destroy it.

Which brings me to the second reason wildflowers are so beautiful. They aren't controlled, or shouldn't be. They exist for their own sake. If others receive pleasure from seeing or being with them, what a great bonus! But it's not necessary for their survival. In other words, people, the worthwhile ones anyway, are independent of others. They don't need partners and they certainly don't need you. If they allow you to tag along for a while, then count your blessings.

Thyme-Leaved Bluets
Houstonia serpyllifolia

Of course, maybe you're not cruising OKCupid for wildflowers. You'll just take any willing plant that comes along, or that fucks well. (Hmmm ... plants fucking? Evidently, I need to rethink this metaphor.) I will tell you the secret to finding wildflowers, though it only refers to people, not plants. Still trying to concoct a formula for the plants. The secret is to be a wildflower yourself. Be independent. Be the kind of person you are wanting to meet. And be satisfied to sit on a sunny hillside and wait for that determined hiker to come along. There's no guarantee how long you will have to wait, but the more beautiful you are, the harder you will be to miss.

Another secret, once you learn to spot wildflowers, you find them everywhere. Like Thyme-Leaved Bluets.

Philosophy of Love: Am I Doing It Wrong?

Ludwig Wittgenstein

A few weeks ago, The Guardian posted a story written by Giles Fraser, a British priest and journalist. The title really says it all, so here it is in it's entirety: How Ludwig Wittgenstein Helped Me Get Over My Teenage Angst. Needless to say, the title caught my eye.

Wittgenstein, being a cherished philosopher from my undergrad years. Words are a function within a larger system, and all that jazz. Bertrand Russell described him as "passionate, profound, intense and dominating". For me, it was love at first sight! Though, I admit, I have not read much of him since, and at this point he is more fantasy than anything.

In the article mentioned above, Giles details how my dreamy, handsome philosopher actually turned him toward religion. Yes, there are many faulty arguments (if you can call them that) in this article. A hot-bed for atheist bloggers. But one particular section gave me pause:

Moreover, there is no need first to develop a coherent philosophy of something in order to go on and do it. Apropos ... you don't need a philosophy of love in order to be in love.

Say what?!

Let's take that second statement first. Everyone has a philosophy of love, whether or not they realize it. No matter their orientation, kink, number of partners, age, lack of sexuality, etc. EVERYONE has one. It would be impossible to be human and not have a structure of how you approach, analyze, and ultimately behave concerning love.

The word "philosophy" may be a bit off-putting for the uninitiated. But don't run screaming just yet. From the time you were born, you were interacting with the world, developing beliefs about it, and reacting to it. As you got older and could understand language, you may have had particular worldviews and opinions thrust upon you without your knowledge. Religion would be one such worldview. Hopefully, as you became older, you used your knowledge about the world, as well as your own experiences to form a worldview, a philosophy, about what life is, how it functions, and the best way of getting along in it. This is your philosophy, most likely terribly flawed, as everyone's is, but a philosophy nonetheless.

Giles even agrees with this:

Philosophy is ... creating better intellectual maps that reflect what people are doing when they say the things they do.

In other words, there are reasons for your actions. They don't just happen randomly, even if you don't know what those reasons are. Your beliefs, values, and ideals are at the root of all your actions. 

Now let's apply this to the experience of love, whether that be the way you love your partner or the way you love your new car. (I'm looking at you, LordofDarkenss!!!) Every person has some idea of the experience of love, though our ideas about the

experience may differ extensively. We call this a universal experience because it happens to everyone, in all cultures, time periods, across the scales of skill or intelligence levels. To love is part of what it means to be human.

The first time you fell "in love", kissed someone you were attracted to, or had someone profess their love for you, you had a profound feeling, an experience.

And from that moment, you associated this experience with the concept of love. You began developing ideas about what love meant, how you were supposed to act, and ultimately what you wanted your "love life" to look like, even if that means you wanted nothing to do with it at all. This is your philosophy of love.

Giles stated that we don't need a philosophy of love in order to be in love. But human beings cannot help forming a philosophy of love, even if unintentionally. A human's ability to reason ensures that some kind of philosophy will form for all experiences. Therefore, since everyone experiences love (universal experience), everyone must have a philosophy of love. And this happens even if you don't know it's going on.

The second problem with Giles's statement is that he claims you don't "need" the philosophy to be in love. His implication, I believe, is that human beings experience love naturally without needing any rational activity taking place. Falling in love, he's saying, is not like deciding how or if or when to start a business. However, it is naive to think that you can do something well, or that your plans will turn out well, without a solid philosophy about them.

If my philosophy of love is that I am the center of the universe and everyone I "love" has to do what I say, well, it's obvious I am going to fail miserably at my relationships. (Unless of course I meet a really kinky submissive.) That's an extreme example. Let's look at one that's more frequent, and since this is a blog about poly (sometimes, anyway), let's make it a poly example.

I was raised to believe that the only choice for love was a long-lasting monogamous marriage with my soul mate. This was a faulty philosophy given to me by my mother about love. Why is it faulty? For one thing, I do have a choice. Monogamy is not the only choice. Having multiple, simultaneous partners is a choice. Having no partners is a choice. The truth is, if you can conceive it, it's a choice. I didn't know that. For another thing, the word "soulmate" is an invented concept, perpetuated by Hollywood. Letting go of the dream of finding that one perfect person just for us can be brutal. It's a seductive fantasy. There's probably a host of other reasons this philosophy is flawed, but we'll move on. 

Getting married, then, based on this faulty monogamous philosophy created all kinds of problems for me. I wasn't happy being with just one person. And, my "soulmate" didn't turn out to be "perfect". It's unreasonable to think any partner could be. You can guess, no doubt, this made for some pretty shitty "love". If I had chosen to continue within this faulty framework, I could have gotten divorced and looked for a new "soulmate". And so, the cycle would continue.

When real life doesn't fit our philosophy, we have the option to change it. By adopting a new philosophy, I could make decisions that made me, and everyone around me, much happier. Taking time to research (a fancy word for gaining more knowledge about a subject) and rationalize and do some serious introspection led me to a different philosophy about love. My new philosophy fit the poly lifestyle quite nicely. I was even able to short-cut many poly relationship pitfalls due to my poly Fore-Sisters and Brothers, who made the mistakes for me and kindly blogged them on the internet! (I cannot thank you enough, Fore-Sisters and Brothers. And I could never list you all. Just know that I'm grateful.)

So, to review, a faulty philosophy of love caused me to make decisions which led me to a very unhappy situation. However, a well thought out, introspective philosophy led me to a life where I am happier than I

YOU'RE DOING IT WRONG!

have ever dreamed. So, yes, Giles, you can fall in love without a solid philosophy, but if you do YOU'RE DOING IT WRONG. If you want your love life to be worth anything, you're going to have to put some thought into it. And a lack of knowledge about your personal philosophy (even if you say you don't need one) will cause needless heartache for you and your loved ones.

[A]ttention is properly directed on what one does, how meaning is indexed to behaviour. Neither [psychology nor philosophy] is about the clever answers one can provide under cross-examination. Which is just as well – because I don't have them.

A naive worldview, indeed. Whether or not you like it, Life will throw hard questions at you, and sometimes you will have to address them with "cross-examination" speed. You may not have the "right" answers every time, but if you have a well-thought-out philosophy of life and love, you will have a head start. Life does not accept "I don't know" as an answer. Life deals out consequences anyway. In this case, accumulating as much knowledge as possible about yourself and your experiences will better equip you for Life's obstacle course.

Who Am I?: Major Depressive Disorder and Identity

Major Depressive Disorder is the result of brain functioning which produces (or fails to produce) sufficient chemicals. It is a disorder I have struggled with all my life. At some point I should probably post an entry detailing my particular journey through personal madness. But for now, it suffices to say that I cannot remember a time when I did not view the world through an angry grey lens. As a child, I assumed everyone experienced the world the way I did. And at 17, I was (voluntarily) admitted to the nut house and began the long road to recovery.

Of course you never really "recover" from your brain's faulty chemistry. But neither does choking down a lottery of medical cocktails solve all your problems. I had to do some of the work too. And that's what I want to address today. Who is this "I"? 

Thanks to (being dragged kicking and screaming* to) read Richard Carrier's Sense and Goodness Without God, I have been better able to clarify just what it is that I believe makes up the "self". The "self", or the individual, is composed of a unique set of desires, thoughts, decisions, values, abilities, and all of those are (directly or indirectly) the result of the brain's functioning. 

What this means is that, when it comes to depression or moodiness, my brain fails to function like most other brains. So I say to myself, "Self, how can this be you? How can you be a person who loathes yourself? Are you really this person who unfairly compares yourself to others? Finding faults in others to feel better about yourself? Being angry with anyone who is 'prettier', 'smarter', or 'more successful'?" I mean, is this who I am?

Truth is, I like to think of "myself" as the person I am when my cocktail has supplied me with the necessary chemicals. I'm thoughtful, confident, and gracious. I help others to the best of my ability. And I find I have unlimited stores of patience with myself and others.

When I'm feeling poorly, I'm self conscious around people whom I don't trust not to judge me, who might think, 'Well, that's just who she is, negative, argumentative, and lazy." But I don't really see myself as "that" person. I prefer to assign those attributes to the disorder. I aspire to keep my dark side from interfering with my behavior and relationships. The depressed person is not really me. I am this other person who is happy, and compassionate, and patient and generous.

But this, of course, isn't true. I am that depressed person. That person is me. As much as I don't like it. 

One funny thing about medication (which they don't tell you about initially) is that it doesn't last forever. By that I mean, your body builds up a tolerance to it. This is true of all medications (as far as I know) not just antidepressants or psychiatric medications. So, it came to pass, on the eighth year of my second brand of happiness-in-a-pill, that my mood, energy, empathy, and ability to feel pleasure plummeted. It was time for a new med.

Changing medications which alter one's mood is a bit like playing Russian Roulette. The effects could be minimal, the switch could be easy. And the first time I changed meds, this was my experience. However, back to reality, this time around it has been a bit more difficult. Among other unpleasant side effects, I have noticed a sudden inability to tolerate criticism in any form. (A quality whose reverse--the ability to accept and effectively utilize criticism--I take great pride in, when I'm feeling "myself".)

A stranger passes me on the street, I smile as I normally would, he looks away, a neutral expression, no smile. And my thoughts run rampant. It's like opening the Pamplona bull gate! I start jumping to all kinds of conclusions that I know aren't true, and running for my life before one of those bulls gores me. He hates me. I'm ugly. I'm worthless. Everyone hates me. There's no point to living. I am pitifully out numbered.

Thankfully, years of meditation and Cognitive Behavioral Therapy have enabled me to nab these thoughts right out of the gate, wrestle them to the ground and strangle them outright. (That's right, bull fighting, baby!) But that can't stop the emotions and tears that inevitably follow.

TheLordofDarkness and I have been fighting more often than usual during this Great Transition, and, I suspect, in large part because of it. Every problem he tries to express to me I hear as criticism, and it's all I can do to keep those pesky, terrifying thoughts at bay. I have no energy or mental aptitude left to address the actual problem. Is this who I really am?

The answer is "yes" (as discussed above), but that is not all. I am also the person who decides I don't want to be this way. I am the person who tackles the terrible thoughts, and refuses to let them control my behavior. I am the person who calls the doctor and I am the person who has the courage to say, "No, I am not okay. I need a change. I need some help." This is me too. 

Don't get me wrong, the most terrifying experience a person can have is when her own brain is trying to kill itself. When the self is trying to kill the self. Suicide is a alluring and deceptive mistress. Yep, this is still me. But not all of me. Because, while I have one voice that says suicide is easier than dealing with pain, there is another voice telling me that it doesn't have to be painful, and I can make it through, and I should ask for help. And I can always make the choice. Ultimately, this defines who I am: my choices.

*Have we not yet created a tongue-in-cheek font? I'd use it here if there was one. Can someone please get on that?!

As a personal side note, you may be sick of reading mental health stories like mine and roll your eyes at things like what I'm about to say. And if that is the case, feel free to stop reading. I give you a free pass. For everyone else, if you suspect you or someone you care about is suffering from a mental illness, PLEASE ASK FOR HELP! Do not let anyone tell you how you are feeling or what you need, except a mental health professional. The worst that can happen is that you suffer a small amount of embarrassment being told there is nothing really wrong with you. If you do have a mental disorder and you choose not to seek help, the best you can ever hope for is a miserable, unhappy life. The worst, is no life at all.

Packing Up My History: How Personal Narratives Can Hold You Back

For the first week since February, I have failed to make a post. Circumstances have made it suddenly obligatory that TheLordofDarkness and I clean out the basement of our former house, which we had been using for storage. And said project monopolized all of my physical and mental energy for the week. Sadly, I have a few more weeks yet to go. 

So I descend to the cellar of my personal history and sort through all of the stuff I have accumulated in my adulthood, but don't actually use. Why do I keep this stuff? I suspect it has something to do with using physical objects to anchor my non-physical identity.

I am thinking of  "identity" as my personal narrative, the collection of my individual experiences, what makes me me and not you. These solid objects -- books, Strawberry Shortcake dolls I played with as a kid, my daughter's baby clothes, a picture that is too ugly to hang on the wall -- all of these are what make me special, unique. They point to an individual who is most definitely here.

And if I lose these "things" that make me me ... what will happen to me? Will I cease to exist? Of course not. But I feel this pulling (mine is in my stomach) when I hand over my "treasures" because there just isn't any room for them any more.

Things I Have Held On To

1. Dance clothes. These are the leotard, tights and shoes I danced in during undergrad. I took a ballet class partly for exercise and partly for nostalgia, remembering my long hours of dance class at the performing arts school I attended.
2. Grandfather's shirts. My grandfather had a particular style of dress from which he never varied: jeans, a long-sleeved flannel, cowboy boots and a large shinny belt buckle, donning the seal of the state of North Dakota. Nothing quite like sinking into his lap, his chuckle and the aroma of Lucky Strikes. 
3. Gymnastics uniform. Ah, yes. This is probably where the greatest pride of my youth lies. Tumbling, swinging, flying, chin high, sticking your flat chest out, proud as a peacock. This is my proudest me at my proudest moment.
4. Childhood Winnie-the-Pooh lamp. Somehow, hanging on to this feels like being that child again. Reading bedtime stories with my dad. Dreaming that I could be anything I wanted to be. When I look at this lamp, I think I would like to be that child again.
5. Religious artwork handmade by my aunt. This is a tough one. I feel bad giving it away as my aunt is a professional artist, and a particularly good one. But I will never hang it up in my house. I can't give it to another family member as they all have one exactly like it. Giving it away feels like betraying my family. So, it collects dust.
6. Textbooks. Containing a good portion of the knowledge I have accumulated, some of which I have rejected but am grateful to have learned nonetheless. I have fooled myself into thinking I will look at them again someday. 
   

   

   Damn those cute baby girl clothes!

7. Children's clothing. I have not yet given up on the idea of blessing humanity with yet another of my gorgeous offspring. However, truth be told, there are some baby clothes, like that pink baby dress with the lacy ruffles, that I will probably still hold onto long after the rest have been hauled off to Goodwill. I have dreams of my Dementia-ed self spending my nursing home days clinging to such relics, and gazing longingly over pictures of my angels. And, repeating it again the next day, as I will have forgotten the entire previous day.

So, I pack each of these pieces of myself away in boxes, and rent a storage unit to hold them until I can afford a residence capable of housing "all" of me.

I wonder if these bits of myself are holding me back from being the me that I right now. Am I fully able to let go of these narratives of myself? Some individuals are so attached to their material possessions, extensions of themselves, they could not possibly live without them. Am I like this? Am I enough right now, without all these trinkets?

A popular Zen teaching is that you have everything you need to be happy at this very moment, you only have to realize it. This teaching is sometimes illustrated using Magic Eye artwork. At first glance, the page is merely covered in seemingly random patches of color, shapes and lines, but once your eyes adjust, you see a 3D image of a whale, or a beach house, or a space ship. The 3D image was there even when you couldn't see it. It just took an adjustment of perspective. 

An adjustment of perspective, not a change of circumstances, is what I needed to see that I can be happy in this moment without anything extra. Without all my stuff. Just me is enough.