Look! Understandable Reactions…

Are you holding a grudge? About?

I’m not proud of the grudge I held onto for too many years. I’m sort of embarrassed, but I didn’t know, what I didn’t know.

That must be how grudges get started in the first place. Now, with more understanding, I let the past settle where it belongs, in the long ago past.

I used to wish things were different. I was often mad that I didn’t get what it felt like everyone else got. I hated being reminded that I didn’t. Life seemed completely unfair, like I was an innocent victim, I felt like I didn’t have any choice but to be mad and to rage against the shear unfairness and loss and all the implications that followed me.

When I realized that life doesn’t just seem unfair, it truly IS unfair, and accepted that, things began to change for me. I’m not the only one. Things happen to everybody in every stage of life. Trauma is part of what happens here on planet earth and we humans can only do our best to regulate. That’s what we did as children and it’s what we continue to do, but when understanding flows in, a light is turned on.

Understandable reactions to things. I tell myself this all the time. It was the only way I thought there was to react, so that’s why. Learning I have choices makes a huge difference for me.

Someone will say the wrong thing, I will say the wrong thing. I won’t mean to, but it happens. I don’t know why I thought I could prevent things from happening. I wasted many years trying or avoiding having to try. Yeah, hiding out wasn’t my best plan either.

Acceptance. I did rage against that for sure. Who wants a terrible cup of coffee? No one. But if one is served to me I have some choices. I don’t have to drink it or take it with me. I don’t have to complain or whine or let it ruin my day. Oh, I can do any of those things, including never ordering coffee again. I could switch to tea! Or I could leave it or toss it and go find a better cup somewhere else. It might cause me to explore a new area or try my own version. I never know what one experience will hold. The one thing that I now know that needs to be accepted, is the one fact. I was served a cup of coffee. What comes of it is up to me.

I do better accepting everything and everyone for what is. It’s not always easy. I may not ever completely understand, I now know that its okay when I don’t prefer this or that. Someone else might find that coffee to their liking. It’s okay that I don’t. I can try to understand or I can just let it be and move on. Always, I know to take the best care of me. Not deciding that there’s anything wrong with me or them or the coffee, is a choice. Being offended is also a choice. Staying in any state is a choice I used to not know I was making. I like knowing I can change my state.

I like knowing that I have some choices. I like knowing that the most important thing is that I look after myself. I like knowing I can take a moment or several moments to feel how Im feeling and then decide how I want to proceed. I like knowing about choice and actually, Im glad to be lead in different directions.

I’m less afraid as I learn to trust myself. For so long, I wanted the world and everything around me to change for the better. Now I see that what is, is less important then my response to it.

Fun Re-regulating Ideas

It’s important that I pay attention to the moments I spend in regulation so that when I fall out, I have ideas.

Morning and evening walks have been amazing. The weather is beautiful, the beaches are charming. Pink skies. Little breezes to cool off balmy nights.

Walking, I find to be very regulating. Whether I’m alone or with friends or loved ones. Mornings, afternoons or at sunset, walking can always help me to get into a good state or stay in one.

Even thinking back on good moments is helpful. Cutting flowers, stopping at farm stands, flea market finds, discovering a coffee shop, a new yoga studio, I have enjoyed exploring the whole area. I’ve been enjoying setting up my new work space, refinishing my table, arranging things. I’ve enjoyed swimming and all the little east coast beach alcoves.

Eating tasty wholesome foods. Fresh tomatoes sun warmed from the garden. Green beans and corn from a farm stand. A ham and cheese croissant from our new favorite coffee place. Even just a walk down to the dock to put my feet in the water.

I never knew I had so much control over my own state.

True, I’ve been enjoying the head space a good yoga class puts me in. I go visit my kids when I need a boost in spirits. I’ve been known to make tea and toast for myself when I’m in a low mood.

But I guess it just occurred to me that I had the power of my own intention to actually guide myself into a more comfortable regulated state. I thought it was random and subject to time and happenings. I actually felt a little guilty for taking a moment to comfort myself into regulation.

I’ve decided to let that idea go and all the silly guilt I didn’t need to feel with it!

Can you see the tiny fish?

Learning…

I can’t say, for all my natural curiosity, that I always like learning new things. In fact, I might even say that I DON’T like being new to something that I really want to do well. Today I found myself at a yoga class that was different then anything I’ve ever done before. I was corrected repeatedly. For two straight hours. I couldn’t even fold a blanket correctly. At one point the whole class was trying to help. I think I went through every emotion listed in my book about breathing through feelings, and then some. Oh man. Blogging, setting up a website, navigating a new location, figuring out how to do life somewhere not my home, whew! Humbling and humiliating are not my ususal go to’s but I have stumbled through, and expect to continue to experience more of the same. I don’t love that nobody knows me. I mean, I can do yoga. I can do a lot of stuff actually, but that doesnt matter in the face of all that I dont know and can’t do.

What I need, is to stay open, keep my sence of humor, and relax into that ‘beginners mind’ you always hear about. Plus, I know I need to be extra nice to myself, breathe some kindness, understanding and extra patience in. Have a cool beverage, a good meal, some fun experiences here and there.

I need to stay on top of my inner regulation. Be vigilant.

I cant help thinking of all the kids back at school, learning new things every day, some against their will. Its hard to learn. Its good to. In the end it feels better to learn than not to, but initially, there might be some dysregulation for some kids. I salute all the teachers out there making classrooms safe, happy places for kiddos to learn new things. Some of us students look a little hopeless (blanket folding and all), but with time, we will get it. I remember learning to read late. I really hadnt mastered it until probably third or fourth grade (I probably havent mentioned my stuborn side), but when I got it, when reading became a voice in my head, when it stopped feeling like disiphering code, I became a vorocious reader. I love reading to this day. I’m going to keep trying to be a patient learner. Cheers to all the patient teachers who have taught me and are teaching me and are out there teaching others!

T r a v e l

When I was a kid, I went to eight different schools. We moved from eastern Canada to west. Then back and forth from California a few times. I wonder if moving made me a bit of a homebody.

For someone without a current home, I dearly, truly, love all the trappings of home. Before I knew about dysregulation, I looked no further then my own bed for comfort. Tucked in with a good book, I could re-regulate myself fairly quickly. Sometimes I’d find comfort in my kitchen. I ground my own flour and baked bread or cookies or made a delicious meal, or even just toast and tea.

So how I wound up in Africa, and then Ireland, France and Rome in a single summer, is a little interesting.

That same summer I was back and forth from NY, here ( CT) and California. My best friend was in a cancer trial in NY (she needed a companion to stay with her there). My husband and I were remodeling a house near his parents and I was finishing up yoga training at home in California.

At my training, I met a friend who introduced me to the cofounder of @kidsforpeace , a nonprofit organization that was building a school in Kenya. She needed artists to paint murals so I signed up.

I didn’t even know how my early years of devouring my monthly National Geographic magizine had seeped into my bones. How my obsession with Born Free and love of other books about Africa would cause me such a visceral reaction. I had no idea how travel would change me.

I think it’s worth mentioning that, not one member of my family wanted me to go. Most were quite opposed actually. They weren’t up for me living in NYC either. Sweet to be cared and worried about, but I got myself there anyway.

I loved all of it. The town where the school was being built was tiny. I think the whole town hung out with us while we were there, particularly the children. Even the teenagers. I think they loved the art part the most. Several sat around me drawing while I painted. When I needed a ladder, someone MADE me one and the kids showed me how easy it was to go up and down. I had less than a week to plan, find paint and complete the mural. We didn’t know the size before we arrived so I didn’t have as much time as I would have liked. We had brought art supplies for the school, but there was such little time to demonstrate how to use them. Scissors we’re included and some of us thought since they hadn’t ever seen scissors before they were not a good idea. I had taught little American kiddos who couldn’t use scissors before, so I was sure they would be fine but I had to prove it. I sat down with a handful of boys and showed them once. All of them respectfully took a turn and of course had no problem. The director and I joked later that these were kids who used machetes, our school scissors would be fine.

When we were saying goodbye, I asked the teenagers what they might want from America if I could come back and bring them something. Everyone I asked said the same thing.

A book.

A BOOK?! Oh my heart. I mentioned that to our group on the way to our next location and many had heard this themselves. Right away we all started scheming ways to bring books to the children. Which we did when we went back the next year.

I will never forget those sweet respectful teenagers. They wanted me to have their drawings. Many of them were quite talented. The next year, I got to go back and teach both the teachers and the kids. I brought art books and they LOVED them.

Art can be a unifying force. I loved seeing that. The following year we brought a steel band along and watched how music (also art) unifies as well. We were a band of traveling artists and it was super fun for ALL of us, Kenyans and Americans alike. I have such fond memories, but what happened for me I think is that I saw myself differently. I didn’t HAVE to stay home, I learned, to feel calm and confident, I can take the Andie show on the road too.

With my growing tool kit of regulating tactics, I was good then, and I’m even better now. I like knowing that CPTSD is a thing, but it doesn’t have to get in the way of my life. Travel taught me that. That weird summer taught me that. Some things are nice to know.

Curating a Good Life

It’s been a whirlwind of a month and I have been busy every day with things I don’t usually do.

Today is the day after Labor Day. A fitting time to get a routine started. I loved my life in California, I miss all my family and friends terribly. I also miss the rhythm of my days there. I miss my house. I miss having a place for everything and knowing what’s next. I miss my old routine!

I guess I will have to create a new one. It will include yoga and walking and work that I love. There will be art, new friends, and a new home. Some of these things I will need to be patient for, but some I can start today.

I remember my mother creating new routines after all of our moves growing up. We made some big ones as a family but my mother would establish order quickly and with efficiency. Supper would be made in make shift kitchens as she found what she needed while unpacking boxes. School lunches were made and we were off to school, returning to a more put together home. My mother loved routine and confidently worked to establish it. She taught me to bathe my babies at the same time every day because babies respond well to routine. She told me that bath time was the biggest happening in an infant’s day in the beginning so they would organize themselves around it. I’m pretty sure I did as well.

I hope to follow her example and find all of what I need to get myself on a schedule of sorts. I will be designing and curating the best life I can, one daily activity at a time.

Home

What does your ideal home look like?

I’m still a stranger in a strange land. And quite between homes, missing mine and everything that used to be familiar, completely. Now I just have too many questions and I don’t understand most of the answers.

Aesthetically I’m lost. Function trumps form, (I’ve been reminded of this repeatedly, hence the questioning), yet the architecture here is so charming. Why the plastic white pvc? There is a reason but don’t ask me. I tend to lean way into form and usually struggle to be practical, but in my defense I prefer functional over decorative.

My ideal home is beautiful. It has high ceilings and spaciousness. It has a strong minimalist vibe with very carefully placed art and antiques. There are fresh cut hydrangeas and white roses, white enamel pitchers, old crates or old metal. There are plants.

The kitchen is open and welcoming. There are custom European inspired cabinets and open shelving. Antique and wooden bowls that are used and loved. Hand crafted plates and platters.There is an antique brass rail with S hooks to hang pots and utensils. Hand made tile for the back splash. A turned leg island with a bottom shelf. Nothing is trending or trendy. It’s all old world, French inspired with clean lines

The exterior is welcoming and pleasing to my eye. The porch is inviting and lovely. Landscaping is simple, tidy but abundant with flowers and foliage.

When anyone walks in they feel at home. Comfort is key. Luxurious throws and neutral colored soft woven pillows, simplicity and soft music (probably Frank Sinatra or Ella Fitzgerald) playing quietly in the back ground. Baking and roasting, only the most delicious smells. Essential oils, cleanliness.

A large studio, beautiful bedrooms for guests. Pure white simple cotton, linen and utter comfort. My own bedroom will have a fireplace, French doors and a balcony with a view. More comfort and beauty of course. My bathroom will have a separate tub and bright walk in shower. A large walk in closet with enough space for it to look like a high end store. My ideal home is peaceful and lovely and regulating. It is a wonderful place to write and paint and create.

Past Regulated

Life can be surprising. I’ve spent days worried or trying not to worry. I’m all about doing big and little things to get myself into a regulated state whenever I fall out. Regulating is a life skill I wish I’d learned in elementary school.

Better late then never. I’m so glad I have tools now. Im glad to feel calm and confident on a more regular basis. Even better are the many more days I now spend enjoying my life. I think of it as going past regulated and all the way to fun.

I’m not settled in, I can’t find things I need. I’m over due for a pedicure. I have yet to figure out a routine or the WiFi. I could go on, but I still enjoyed a full fun day exploring the area. I’m so glad I went with the flow and didn’t miss any of it.

Even when things are not ideal, I’m still open to good moments. I still end up having some fun. As a friend of mine once suggested, I try to make the good moments bigger and the not so good ones, smaller. I do this when I think or talk about them.

Life can take some twists and turns. I’m glad to not be afraid of how I’ll do when things are not ideal. I’m glad I’m not trying to control or fix circumstances anymore. Its easier to just take care of myself.

I like when being in a regulated state leads me to be in the flow, and then being in the flow leads me to fun. That what happened yesterday!”

Why

Why do I blog?

Hmmm

I personally am constantly asking why. It’s probably my most asked question, followed by how. I was born curious. Answering that question and explaining myself is something else entirely. I suppose I might as well turn my curiosity on myself for a change.

I started blogging for one reason, but keep doing it for another.

I do these art projects. I love a good project. They get me up in the morning, give me purpose and help direct me. When I’m engaged in a creative endeavor, I seem to navigate life better. I can overlook or sidestep less appealing aspects and concentrate on something bigger than my day to day life.

Blogging was suggested to me as part of launching my latest project. Ten blog posts. A website. An online presence. These steps seemed and still seem pretty daunting compared to writing and illustrating, but I was up for the challenge.

Thirty blog posts and one scrambled, yet existing, website later, I’m definitely challenged, but it is helping me define why I wrote both my books. Also why I’m still engaged. With art shows, I create a bunch of paintings around a theme, have a fun opening night, hopefully sell some and that’s it. Or I spend a few months working on a commission then deliver it. Or I complete the mural, class, kitchen remodel, home stage etc and it’s over. Creating a book is different.

Books seem to be their own slow moving evolution. From idea to rough draft through editing. Its a process. Illustrations are another undertaking, separate, messy, also time consuming. Uploading it all, formatting and more editing. It’s a lot of steps already, but then I need to find a way to send it out into the world. There is a reason and a purpose for doing so and I need to keep getting clearer and clearer about it. Why is it important for me to share with a wide audience? What prompted me to write in the first place? Who are my books for?

This is the second part of why I’m blogging. I am fine tuning these answers as I write. Im talking to myself. I’m remembering. I’m revisiting old art, recalling memories. mining my childhood for understanding.

The CPTSD is something I’m just becoming educated about. Trauma is a topic everyone seems to be learning about lately. Becoming trauma informed can be added to counselors and therapist’s titles after a certified training.

My personal experience with trauma comes from personal experiences. I didn’t know as much as I do now, when I wrote ‘Peaceful Hearts’ but it’s origin came out of a school shooting I was in. It wasn’t well known that a new trauma can bring up an old one, but I felt something was off with the intensity and length of my reaction.

What helped me was what my book suggests. Let feelings come up, and breathe slowly through them Long, deep breaths do in fact calm our physiology , and consequently our brains. It’s a proven fact. It worked for me. Years later after Sandy Hook, I was resigned. The book was getting completed no matter what. I wanted to alleviate suffering. That was my first and biggest motivation. Can it be done through the circulation of one short picture book?

I don’t know. I thought if any or all kids could learn this early on, it would be helpful. I know it would have helped me. It does now. I have some good stories of moms who did read my book every night and kids who started without prompting to use slow conscience breathing. I taught art to kids for years. I know they are smarter than some people realize. I know a three and five year old who would sit down together and breathe when they started to fight with each other.

Now that I’m familiar with the term dis- regulated, I see how disregulation affects anyone, old or young. After the lock down I witnessed a lot of attempts at regulation by many different people. Even dogs struggled. I came up with the idea of butterfly-breathing in response to all of us emerging from our own ‘cocoons’ after social distancing. I saw kindergartners the first day their masks came off. Sweet and heartbreaking, they faired better than the teens I knew, at least they regulated faster.

I see how important being regulated is in my own life. I want everyone to have access to a simple self regulation tool. A calm confident state makes everything better.

That’s why I’m blogging.