WARNING: I keep forgetting what “EMDR” stands for and I have to look it up every time I write about it (like here and here).
George gave me an important warning, yesterday, in our therapy session. He warned that I give myself this warning way too much:
I have to hyper-vigilantly protect myself against the world’s incompetence, ignorance, hostility, lack of understanding, ambivalence, negligence, etc., in order to get my needs met and to survive.
WARNING: I write important warnings down so I can remember them.
George warned me that these constant warnings are probably bad for my health. He suggested I tell myself this instead:
I am safe. I have everything I need.
Do you see any warnings in my photos from yesterday?
WARNING: If children scare you, be warned that The Warning is a hard-rock band of three young sisters from Monterey, Mexico. Here‘s The Warning’s TED talk (and play):
WARNING: This writer loves comments on her posts, which you can leave below.
WARNING: I have everything I need, here and now, thanks to all who helped me create this post with warnings and — of course! — to YOU.
Yesterday, I returned to the quiet home of my EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) therapist George after a long, disquieting absence. George and I talked quietly about how difficult it’s been for me to find a quiet home after the multiple traumas of open heart surgery, my pacemaker getting recalled, complications with the pacemaker replacement surgery, all the noise around the U.S. election, the loudness of my mechanical heart valve at night, and the fear and discomfort I’ve been experiencing internally and externally. During my quiet time with George, I realized I could create a quiet home wherever I am, by focusing on whatever helps quiet my mind and my soul.
Soon after that quieting session, I saw this:
I’d love a quiet home, too. How about you?
Can you see any quiet homes in my other photos from yesterday?
Yesterday, after facilitating a therapy group I loved at work, I went to see my lovely Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR) therapist, George. I love EMDR, because it has helped me reduce my anxiety about very unlovely experiences I had in the hospital when I was a child.
Because I’m having open heart surgery at the Mayo Clinic next Wednesday, I loved the opportunity to work with George in reducing my anxiety about that. George and I tried several lovely images to use when I’m going into surgery on September 21, including floating on the top of lovely water or being held by loving hands. I love that I came up with this idea at the end of the session: I said to George, “I shall just see the love in everything.” George loved that, too.
I love reporting to you that after the session, I saw the love in everything and everybody. I love that next week I shall also see the love in:
the lovely Deb, who will drive us to the airport in her lovely Honda Fit,
the security personnel at the airport,
the plane that takes my boyfriend Michael and me to Minneapolis,
the shuttle that transports us to Rochester,
the hotel where we’ll be staying across the street from the hospital before my admission,
all the staff at the Mayo Clinic,
all the tests they’ll give me,
the needles and other things they’ll poke me with,
the questions they’ll ask me,
the operating room,
the hands of my surgeon,
the cardiac care unit,
the machines I’ll be attached to,
the medications they’ll give me,
the tubes going in and out of my body, and
everything and everybody else during my recovery.
Do you see the love in everything I photographed yesterday?
I see the love in those cats named Stormcloud and Peaches, who are being adopted together by some lovely family today.
I see the love in this lovely tune, which my late father sang with love to my late mother at an anniversary celebration.
I will see the love in everything you leave in a comment.
I see the love in all who helped me create this post and in you, here and now.
Four day ago, I wrote a post called “Positions” in which I took a negative position about being positioned next to medical machines at night. As I positioned in that post, my negative position about medical machines is positioned by (1) past experiences when I was a child positioned next to cardiac monitors in the hospital and (2) recent experiences positioned next to CPAP and BiPAP machines for sleep apnea.
If you position your cursor to read that previous “Positions” post, you’ll discover the position that my being positioned in a side position is a good-enough treatment for my positional sleep apnea. WordPress reader Maureen was kind and helpful enough to position a comment after that post, suggesting that I position a side-positioning pillow next to me.
Because I respect my readers’ positions, I ordered and received one of those pillows yesterday. I’m glad I’m in a position, through this blog, to thank Maureen for her help in positioning me for a better night’s sleep.
Thanks, Maureen!
Yesterday, Chris — who has been positioned before in posts including this one and this one (and who is usually positioned in the Bay Area of California ) — got into this position very close to where I hold a position as a group therapist:
Now, you might position an assumption that I asked Chris to take that position, in order to position today’s post. Actually, Chris assumed that side-plank position (also known as the yoga Vasisthasana position) on his own. He took that position spontaneously as I positioned him in front of some chrysanthemums to take that photo. Chris takes the position that mums position themselves everywhere in New England during the fall, so we both wanted to position Chris with mums in the picture.
While I was in the position of teacher and Chris was in the position of student when we first met at Boston University in the 1980s, I am now in a position to learn from Chris. Yesterday, he taught me that “asana” means “position” (or “how you sit”) in yoga.
Also, both Chris and I positioned a pun as a possible caption to that photo of him, positioned above. What caption might you position there? I’ll position our pun, later, in a comment positioned below this post.
After I saw Chris, I positioned myself, several times, to take more photos. During the afternoon, the Pat Metheny tune “Afternoon” (which has already been positioned in this previous post) positioned itself in my earphones.
After I took that last photo (which shows a position I share with William James), I positioned myself in a room with my EMDR therapist, George, to discuss repositioning my present reactions to old and difficult experiences (especially those I had when positioned in the hospital as a little girl). EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) Therapy uses lights to position your eyes, with a machine like this:
While we didn’t use that eye-positioning machine in yesterday’s EMDR session, here’s an important position George and I discussed:
Sometimes it’s difficult for people (especially women) to be in a position to connect with their personal power. I am positioning myself — through therapy, this blog, and the work that I do — to discover, own, develop, and position what power I have.
What position might you take about any position taken in this post? I hope you know where you can position a comment.
I can’t position enough thanks here for Maureen, Chris, George, Pat Metheny, and all the other people — including you! — who position themselves along my personal journey of discovery and growth.
He and I were revisiting a very upsetting incident when I was young and left alone with a lot of pain in a hospital room (which I’ve written about here). The assignment was this:
Make a list of people — real and fictional — you can imagine protecting and fighting for you. Next time we meet, we’ll bring them into that hospital room with you.
I asked George, “How many people can I bring in to that hospital room with me? I don’t think they’ll all fit.” George told me I could bring as many people as I want.
Now, I’m really looking forward to next week’s EMDR session.
Let’s see if I have any recent photos on my iPhone of some people I might bring with me, into that hospital room of so long ago.
That’s a very good start.
What music might I bring in, from YouTube? I thought of the chorus of this song (although many of the lyrics don’t fit):
Finally, I’m bringing in two photos I took yesterday, before my meeting with George and after a therapy group I facilitated at work:
Now I’d like to bring in thanks to George, Bruno Mars, Buffalo Tom Peabody, the Four Seasons, all the people imagined and real in today’s post, and — of course! — you, for bringing yourself in, today.
The Year(s) of Living Non-Judgmentally 