Showing posts with label mindfulness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mindfulness. Show all posts

Thursday, 13 June 2013

Leaves On A Stream

Hello there! I am linking up this old post for Life This Week. The one where I took the piss out of being mindful. Then I got cancer and suddenly shit got real and I had to start taking this stuff seriously... But that's another story.

Anyway here are my rantings from 2013. Enjoy.

As a general rule I am usually quite placid and easy going. Consequently it does take rather a lot to really piss me off. So therefore I knew I was going to find this topic extremely difficult. Not much truly riles me. I am languid and sedate. Especially now, as I am slowly becoming proficient at this whole mindfulness marlarkey, you see. So even that barking dog next door, barely ruffles a reaction in me. I am focused in the present moment with impartial non-judgement. I won’t let it bother me. Nope. No way. It’s just a dog barking. ENDLESSLY. Big deal, right?

Similarly, that mountain of lego that seems to multiply and spread to every corner of the house, is just lego. Silly old lego. EVERYWHERE. I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve trodden on it.  The hours that it takes to painstakingly make sure every single last piece of the crap, erm.. I mean, the lego, is off the floor before you can vacuum, is just another part of life. Impartial non-judgement. Yep, that’s me these days. I get it.  It’s neither good nor bad. It just is. Doesn’t bother me AT ALL.  If I miss a few pieces and therefore inadvertently vacuum them up, so what? It only means the vacuum cleaner will become blocked LOSE SUCTION AND I HAVE TO FUCK AROUND TAKING IT OUTSIDE AND TAKING IT APART TO SEE WHERE THE PIECE IS STUCK…but, oops, why am I shouting?  Sorry.  Back to the mindfulness. Breathe. It’s no big deal. This mindfulness is really the SHIZZ. Totally works.

If I slave over a hot stove cooking a wonderful meal for my family only to serve it up to three ungrateful bastards lovely boys who recoil in horror as if I had served them dog shit on toast, why should I let it get to me?  Especially if, at that precise moment, Micky Blue Eyes decides to talk to me about something accountant like and tedious important, saying something like “Blah blah blah spreadsheet, blah blah blah profit margins blah blah something blah blah”(or at least that’s what I hear), it doesn’t make me want to poke my own eyeballs out. No way. I’m too calm and centred for that.

I can sit down to have a cakie and it doesn’t annoy me that it’s bad for me, while boring old broccoli is extremely good for me. Because I’m eating mindfully, so that means I’ll be able to stop after a few mouthfuls. Somehow the whole cake is gone with those few mindful mouthfuls, though. Ahem. Details. 

I am totally grounded and centred in the moment. NOTHING bothers me anymore. Now that I am mindful the following things simply never annoy me AT ALL:

·       Waiting in queues.

·       Vague Facebook status updates.

·       Sales assistants who are nowhere to be seen when you need them, but fling the curtains back to the change rooms while hollering “How are you going in there?” when you are half naked.

·       My boys endless fascination with Spiderman and all superheroes.

·       Ditto their Harry Potter fascination.

·       The Voice judges and all of their phoney gushing over the contestants. When Ricky Martin says “you took me to another place” I no longer think, well why don’t you go to that place and stay there, Ricky? Nope. No way.

·       Having to share a computer.

·       Making a doctor’s appointment and STILL having to wait.

·       Making a doctor’s appointment at 8am for the first appointment to avoid the previously mentioned waiting and STILL WAITING.

·       The gross unfairness of male grooming and maintenance versus female grooming and maintenance.

·       Telemarketers.

·       Bra’s.

Yep, mindfulness has cured me of all of all that annoyance. What a relief Sigh.

 So when I went to see a shrink, riddled with crippling anxiety and she suggested this mindfulness crap technique and gave me a cd, which I listened to and some dude implored me in a flat monotone to just let my thoughts drift past like leaves on a stream, it didn’t totally annoy me that I paid $150 bucks an hour for this ABSOLUTE FUCKING CRAP!!! LEAVES ON A FUCKING STREAM!! I’M MORE LIKELY TO IMAGINE MYSELF THROWING THE FUCKING CD AT YOU!!  FUCKING MINDFULNESS!! GIVE ME SOME FUCKING VALIUM AND SHUT THE FUCK UP!!  YOU TOO, YOU FUCKING STUPID BARKING DOG!! FUCKING SHUUT UUUUUUUUUUUP!


Good lord. Where did that come from? Oh dear. Right then, I’m off to practice watching my thoughts drift past like leaves on a stream. Or, to kick something. One or the other.

What are your pet peeves? Do you 'get' mindfulness?

Friday, 17 May 2013

Fifty Shades Of Purple And The C Word

On Tuesday I attended a group called Fifty Shades Of Purple at the Women’s Health Centre here in Boganville. I was most nervous upon leaving the house, and  barely awake as I was expected to be there at the indecent hour of 9.30am. The idea that a busy mother of 3 should be awake and functioning at this time is preposterous. Ahem.  I mean that’s what ABC kids is for, right? So I can sleep in.  Never mind that they have to be at school before 9.20am. Ridiculous .

To make matters worse there appeared to be no reserved car space for me directly out the front with a sign saying RESERVED FOR VANESSA CONNOR. Rude, I tell you. I had to circle the surrounding streets for a full 10 minutes with some arsehole tailgating me, frantically looking for a spot.  There wasn’t one to be found, so I was reduced to parking several streets away in the RSL car park. I reflected that it was odd that we were not members of the local RSL. Our bogan cred is in question.

Breathlessly, I finally arrived at the centre, late of course and was ushered into a room FULL of scary people.  There was at least four of them!! As well as the group leader/coordinator, who is also my counsellor.  Oh and there was a cute little dog, belonging to one of the ladies.  He was some sort of guide dog for PTSD victims which I thought was a smashing idea. And, yes, I should really stop reading Enid Blyton books at my age. 

Anyhoo, we all introduced ourselves  then the session went on to discussing negative self-talk. Apparently I am not the only person who has some crazy bitch talking shit to me constantly in my head. Who knew?

I also realised that I do ALL OF THESE THINGS:

·         Catastrophising

·         Exaggerating the negative and discounting the positive

·         Mind-reading

·         The ‘shoulds’

I have come to strongly dislike the word should and frankly find it most unhelpful in life.  Honestly that negative Nelly in my head with her catastrophic  crap and should, should, should all the bloody time just needs to SHUT RIGHT UP.

After we pondered on all this it was time for some morning tea, which involved coffee and biscuits which was  nearly as good as cake. Not  quite, mind you but the budget probably doesn’t stretch to cakies so I’ve made a mental note: bring cake. Mind you if I actually bake any cake to take with me it will probably be a miracle. (I actually did bake muffins and jam drops, but they have already been eaten. Oops.)

Then, just as I was beginning  to relax into the group, relieved that there would in fact be no bondage involved  in a group named Fifty Shades Of Purple, came the dreaded C word.


I quit Playgroup partly because I was so traumatised by craft. I never wanted to hear the ominous C word again.

We had to make a ‘Kind Card’ for ourselves.  I drew a dodgy flower on the front, then wrote BE KIND TO YOURSELF inside it and coloured in one side with crayons. Clearly I am an artistic genius who has somehow been over looked. The fact that Mr 4 could draw something MUCH better is irrelevant.

The strange thing was that I did find it oddly calming. So perhaps there is something to this craft caper after all. I survived it without feeling like chaining myself up to be whipped would actually be less painful.

Soon after this, the group was finished for the day and I filed out to wait for my next appointment. One of the other ladies was waiting for a taxi and we chatted and discovered we only live a couple of streets away so I offered her a lift for next week. There are six more weeks. I’m looking forward to it.

Yes, even the craft. (Shut up Randa and Poss).

Do you attend any groups? Enjoy craft? Do you also have a crazy bitch in your head telling you shit?