The letting go inspiration box

Faith is taking the first step even when you can't see the whole staircase.
- Martin Luther King Jr.

Those are exactly the words I need today.

Letting go Toolbox

The letting go toolbox is an attempt to put together some stuff that can help the endeavor.

I have found this short technique effective and would find it more so if I remembered to do it more often. A friend who is a psychologist and runs parenting groups first introduced me to it. This is how it goes (in my clumsy paraphrased way)…

Start with something that is bothering you. It could be anything – physical pain, sadness, or the person next to you talking way too loudly.

Step one: Ask yourself if what is bothering you is true.

Step two: Ask yourself again if it is indeed a hundred percent true.

Step three: Notice how this makes you feel inside your body. Notice where you hold the feeling or emotion in your body.

Step four: Now imagine how it would feel to be free of this feeling – even for the briefest moment.

I confess I have not done this as often as I would like to. But the breath of fresh air it provides can be exhilarating. And each time, I have been surprised at how easy it can be. True the bothersome matter may return and with it the reaction to it. But respite from it for even the briefest moment is refreshing.

Note: The name of the book for this escapes my mind. Will put the source in soon.

Letting go of… the peel of pressure around something good

Last night I felt a sudden knot in my stomach. What in the world had I signed myself up for here? A year-long blog! Was I simply crazy? Didn’t I used to have a blog that I hardly ever blogged into?

When asked if I was a writer, hadn’t I told people, “yes I’m a writer who hardly ever writes”? Wasn’t my life crazy and full already? With the possibility of an upcoming surgery, didn’t uncertainty loom everywhere?

Why then was I embarking on something new? On something quite unnecessary? On something that didn’t make complete sense -- even to me? On something that was heading wherever it was – without any particular sense of direction...

And then I stopped. I watched my thoughts spin and spiral till they quietly slowed down. And I let go of all pressure. I had started this blog simply because I wanted to.  Simply because it seemed like the right thing to do. Not because it was the right time for it. Or because I had some grand message to give to the world.  But simply because it seemed right and meaningful to me.

And then I let go of all pressure related to it and started breathing again. And the sweetness and freshness and freedom of the blog sprung up again.

Want to try and do the same today? Find something sweet and fresh in your life, and remove the peel of pressure around it and smell it, enjoy it, savor it – simply for what it is.

Letting go of… all of life’s overwhelm… for only a moment

Yesterday was a very emotional day for me. Coming to terms with a surgery I have tried to avoid for the past several years is not easy. But that is little reason to being grumpy all the way to the pre-surgery appointment, dabbing your eyes during appointments, or grabbing tissues one after another when the nurse is talking to you.

I remembered when as a child, my sisters would call me Meena Kumari (a Bollywood tragedy queen of yore). This would be one time when my melancholic being was truly worthy of the title.

Appointments, blood draws, paperwork… as I stood at a counter, a sign caught my eye. “Thank you for your SMILE. Your smile has helped my day”.

So I looked at the lady behind the counter (who thankfully was not the overly cheerful kind) and I smiled. I gave her the best from-the-heart smile I could muster. Probably for the first time in the day and probably for the last.

It was sheer fresh air. It was like opening a window and realizing that the flowers, trees and mountains were still there. A sigh later, I probably shut that window again. But the memory of the momentary relief lingered with me.

Today I think back of its power. Maybe that’s all we need. A few moments of an open window without any attempt at keeping the window open forever. No matter how brief. No matter how quick. Maybe one quick glance at the azure can put all the clouds into perspective.  

Letting go of... holding it together

As long as I can remember, I have always been one to hold it together. Hardly any tantrums as a child, no turbulent teens to speak of, I was always the “good girl”. (This is of course till Snappy the Dragon Lady made her entry a few years ago. Remember Snappy?)

Yes, I’ve walked away from many a fight, politely exited an argument and have maintained my quiet when caustic comments came my way. I always imagined this was me taking the higher road. Perhaps it was.
But if so, why am I bitter about unkind words and actions that I quietly withstood. What would be the difference between them and I - was the ideal I maintained. Why then do I not feel any peace or pride when I look back at such instances?

And in difficult situations, I lifted my chin and held it together. There was no reason to make a big fuss about things. I could deal with it. I could deal with anything. In the course of my illness, countless people have told me that they never suspected that I was sick. Probably because I refused to allow myself to fall apart. For after all, that was what I had trained myself to do.

This post sounds bitter and maybe it is. But I do want to question our need to hold it together so much and if it is truly worth it. Is it truly a noble or brave act, if it causes pain on the inside, even when the shell outside remains shinny, chipper and cheerful?

I wonder if all this makes for some really bad advice. It probably does. So if in a difficult situation you are able to hold it together, please do so. I’m sure the world will be better for it.

But if holding it together is wearing you down, seems exhausting, and is not serving any purpose, then simply be yourself. For in my opinion, this whole business is quite overrated. I for one don’t want to do it anymore and the mere thought of not having to do so anymore is liberating.

Letting go of… Snappy the Dragon Lady

My life overwhelms me. Not particularly happy about several aspects of my life and illness, I believe I have turned into Snappy the Dragon Lady.  

My family will rapidly recount stories of what happens when you fall in the path of fire breathing Snappy the Dragon lady. Why I can’t recognize myself either when I don this dragon avatar.

So this week’s intention is to let go of the fire that Snappy breathes.

If Snappy is frustrated or disappointed, maybe she can try and cool her dragon tail before interacting with the family. Or maybe Snappy could do some breathing techniques (the non-fire breathing kind) till she becomes zen-dragon. Okay, somewhat zen-dragon will work too. For there is no need for my stress, pain and fears to affect my interactions with my family. Especially given the terrible guilt and remorse I feel later. Sigh…dragons have hearts too.

Snappy has been around for a while now and getting rid of her is going to be difficult. She believes she has earned her right to be here given how hard things can be for her. So it seems unlikely that Snappy the dragon will turn into a soft purring kitty overnight. But simply noticing her when her she raises her dragon head, soothing the same fierce head and gently leading her to the door may be a good start.

Staying firm, compassionate and determined and not giving in to the dragon within may be the only way for me to train this dragon...

How will you train your dragon?

Letting go of... forcing my values down someone else’s throat…

Yet another birthday party for our precocious now eight-year-old. As always, there was much excitement around the party. And as always, there was one thing that bothered me – gifts.
I think it an imposition for guests to get gifts and I always feel overwhelmed by the gifts at the end of the party.

I love the idea of donations to a charity instead of gifts, or even a book exchange. And for the past several years, I have suggested it to my daughter. But it is always met with resistance. “No gifts Mom! That would be terrible,” her face is crestfallen. She loves the feeling of surprise that opening a gift holds. And she just can’t imagine how a birthday can be complete without gifts.

So by now, she senses when I am about to broach the topic and her tiny antennae spring up. Even before I could present my entire case this year, her body language and then her little self doled out a flat “No”.

I sighed. But I also made my peace with it. I realized that my wanting a no-gifts birthday was part of my value system. And imposing my values on her was simply not the way to go about it.

Charitable thoughts and feelings have to come from within. And I know they will for her too when the time is right. Or maybe she will find other ways to do good in the world. But forcing her to feel a certain way was really not doing any good – to her, to me or to the world. For it is important that her values are her own - not those passed down or forced down on her.

So I simply let it go. Maybe I won’t even bring up the topic next year. Yeah right… I’m just about as stubborn as any mule could possibly be… So I’m quite sure it will come up. But I will accept her answer without any reaction, without any reservations.

 For I will know that there is plenty of time for her to figure out her values and beliefs – many of which will be stellar and sound – whether or not they involve gifts.

Letting go…of not allowing myself to feel pain and discomfort

I have spent a good chunk of the past few years in pain. Most people with chronic illness do so. Pain like this assumes a life of its own. It grows, transforms and even metamorphoses into emotions, feelings, frustrations you never knew you could hold. It seems to assume colors, shapes and even a personality of it’s own.

And as it makes a space for itself in your being, you start to react to it. Frustration, annoyance, anger, irritation, helplessness… Till (as in my case), I try to control the situation. And how have I controlled such a situation? Simply by numbing myself to it.

As I reflected over the course of my illness, I was stunned at what I had been doing. I remembered all the physical pain I used to experience at the beginning. But for the past several years, I have hardly complained of physical pain to my doctor. And I simply stare blankly at nurses and doctors when asked to rate my pain scale. 

So if the illness has worsened as I am told, where has all the pain gone? I simply don’t allow myself to feel to feel it as much – except when it catches me off-guard. Or if there is a new source of pain – even the smallest.

And though it may sound brave, I think it has been an act of cowardice. For has this bravado helped me? Quite the contrary, I think. For numbing myself to it, hasn’t made it go away. And since it can’t go away, it has simply manifested in other ways. Countless times that I’ve shouted at my child, snapped at my spouse, or completely zoned out whilst in company – truly I have been a joy to live with.

Maybe I was tired, maybe I didn’t have the strength to face it, maybe it didn’t make me feel good about myself. Whatever the reason, the realization brought me pain and for once I allowed myself to feel it.

Till I realized that I had done it to some degree all my life. Many of us do. And you don’t have to have a big chronic pain to do so. Many of us find ways to not feel the discomfort of a situation. I have often distracted myself with a frenzy of activities rather than slow down and face the discomfort. For facing it takes courage. Acceptance is hard. Annoyance is easy. And distraction is speedy.

So what is the solution then? Feel the ache, complain about it all the time? Again, I will be a true joy to be around, right?  

Perhaps the answer lies in acceptance and a certain compassion towards the pain and towards ourselves as we hold it. A certain courage to face it, no matter how uncomfortable it makes us feel.  For fighting it will not make it go away. Pretending it doesn’t exist, will not make it go away. So why not try befriending it no matter how ugly it seems or how ugly it makes us feel…

Letting go of… micromanaging stuff that that doesn’t even matter…Cupcakes and Control

As part of our annual tradition for my daughter’s birthday party, we baked and baked and baked. Egg whites peaked, soft frosting rose in the blender, we inhaled flour, sneezed out sugar, and one small stealthy hand sneakily stuffed chocolate chips into her mouth.

My daughter and I love to bake together. But each time I stand in our sticky upheaval of flour and butter, I question my sanity and why I involve her in the baking. Clouds of flour form in the kitchen, whipped egg whites take flight, counters get so sticky that I sometimes imagine our waif-like baker stuck to them!

 

But the enthusiasm of one sweet little baker makes it all seem worthwhile. When I taught her to coat chocolate chips with flour before putting them in the batter, she felt she had acquired the greatest trade secret. “I will teach my kid that”, she solemnly declared. “And I’ll tell my kid my mom taught me so.”

Agreed there is much sweetness in this memory. But for most part, when I’m surrounded in the ooey-gooey mess, I try to start controlling the situation.  And as always, I heard myself say, “that’s way too many sprinkles”, “you’ll bruise the cupcake if you press the frosting spatula so hard”, “don’t wave the spatula in the air”, “if you put so many sprinkles, how can anyone even taste the frosting?”

With my every criticism, one sweet baker’s face grew smaller.

A glance at her crestfallen face made me ask myself why I wanted to bake with her. This is what memories are made of, I told myself. And I do want her to teach “her kid” how to roll chocolate chips in flour. And I do want to be in their kitchen if only in the form of a memory. This mess of flour, butter, eggs and sugar was my bond with her and it mattered to me. It was sweeter than any treat our kitchen churned out.

Suddenly, it was easier for me to stop micromanaging. Maybe understanding what we do want, makes it easy to let go of what we don’t need.

And then I decided to let go. I let go of trying to control how many sprinkles she put on each cupcake, how many sprinkles ended on the floor, how sticky the floor was getting and I almost let go of her licking her sprinkle-filled fingers. Okay I did make her go wash her hands after I saw her licking her fingers. “How would you like if a restaurant chef licked his fingers while preparing your food?” was the question that took the unwilling child begrudgingly to the sink. But it almost brought a smile, rather than a creased forehead.

As I watched her lick the spatulas and other mixing devices beyond clean, and pulled some sprinkles out of her hair, I hoped we would have many more such sweet, sticky memories. And that with each one, I hope I will learn to let go a little more and simply enjoy her company and constant chatter.

The letting go experiment...the experiment begins...

A few weeks ago, right about bedtime, a meltdown began in our household. From a small lapping wave, our seven-year old’s meltdown gained momentum and grew and grew into an angry tidal wave devouring in its path any shreds of patience, calm, reason her “wise” parents had to offer.  As I watched the child scream and weep, an image of a determined dog refusing to let go of a bone came to my mind. The child simply could not let go of what she wanted.

“But you had said”, “this is not fair”, “just this one time”, “you guys are so mean”, “you don’t love me”, the words tumbled out of a red and teary faced-soul. I sighed and heaved and was ready to throw in the towel. I could see an image of the sweet child blissfully asleep beneath cool sheets and peace pervading in our home. But the parent in me decided her demand was not reasonable and we could not give in each time she threw a fit. So we valiantly battled on.

More tears, more coaxing, more raised voices – hers and our later, the storm finally calmed down. Then it was time for me to go into advice mode. I gave her my best spiel on how she was hurting herself by not letting go. With analogies of dark clouds accumulating inside her sunny self, I tried explaining how holding on to something that was unlikely to happen was making her so unhappy and angry inside. She seemed to nod in agreement. But again that may have been due to sheer exhaustion.

I tossed and turned that night. Wondering why I was so upset, I suddenly realized that I was exactly the same way. I too had a hard time letting go. I too was that dog refusing to let go of the bone. This reality was sobering. I needed a good chunk of that wisdom I had poured on the tired seven-year old. The many occasions I had made myself unhappy simply by refusing to let go flashed before my eye.

My daughter had evidently picked the wrong gene from me. Or was she modeling after me I wondered with horror. Or was she simply being a seven-year old? I mulled it over for days. Was my inability to let go coming in the way of my happiness and freedom, I wondered. And since I couldn’t “let go” of the idea (the beauty of irony, huh?), I decided to turn it into an exploration, an experiment in learning to do so. 

And that is what this blog is about. A year-long experiment in letting go. Big stuff, small stuff, important stuff, not-so-important stuff. A year’s worth of personal experiences, attempts, inspirations, and musings on the topic. Drawing inspiration, testing theories, reviewing research, making intentions… the attempt becomes more conscious, more real as I chronicle it here.

So will I be completely zen by the end of the year? Or will this blog merely crumble away like my many other intentions? That of course, remains to be seen.

But planting this seed of intent to let go makes me feel better. And while there are no guarantees of enlightenment or zenhood (if that is a word) by the end of the year, I hope I will have learned at least on occasion to let go, that my jaw will clench less, my shoulders will tighten less, the knots in my stomach will relax, and I will breathe free and happy. This is the experiment to let go of all that holds me back and holds the promise to set me free.