Ending the Nightmares

I recently started reading When Things Fall Apart, Heart Advice for Difficult Times by Pema Chödrön. In one chapter she recounts a story of her best friend who began having nightmares in which she was being chased by monsters – running away from something scary and unfamiliar. Pema asked her if she’d ever turned around to look at them, to see them, to face them. She said no and Pema suggested in the next nightmare to turn around and run towards them rather than away. Her friend did just that and the nightmares ended.

The fascinating part of this story for me is that one even has the ability to control themselves within a dream. I always believed dreams were part of our subconscious and we simply had no influence on them. Yes, I know you can eat certain foods or do activities near bed time that could affect your dreams, but I didn’t know you could decide to perform a specific action and then actually do it.

Beyond that, it reminded me of the nightmares I had as a child. I don’t remember the number of years I had them but in addition to bad dreams, I experienced night terrors that included sleep walking. I don’t remember much about them, which I’ve heard is normal. I’ve been told most of the time when they happen, the person doesn’t even know they woke up the night before.

My mom told me in one instance I moved a chair or stool to the refrigerator to get a pair of scissors from the top. After I got them, I found a book and shredded it. Another story she told me was that I began to walk down the stairs in our house. A few steps down, I turned around and said to her “Mommy, this could be dangerous,” and then I continued going down. I’ve been told numerous times by friends and my father that I would often get up during the night and talk to the stove.

The only detail I actually remember about the experiences is that when I would sleepwalk, the room seemed as though it was infinitely large. It was solid white all around, pristine white floors and walls, and no matter how long or far I walked, I could never reach the wall.

When I read the passage in Chödrön’s book about her friend’s nightmares ending once she changed the narrative, it reminded me of when my nightmares and night terrors ended. It wasn’t exactly the same but it did involve making a conscious, concrete change. My mom had taken me to a therapist – I don’t know for how long or what her specialty was, or even how old I was. The one detail I vividly remember is her asking me if I had any toy monsters at home and if so, to bring her one.

My dad used to commission things out of metal and he had a large castle. We’d play with it, driving Matchbox and Hot Wheels cars through it, give residence to our dolls and animal figurines. I must have told him about my appointment, or my mom did, because I remember him giving me a tiny toy monster to take to the doctor. When I took it to her, she said something about making the monsters go away. Then she opened a drawer in the table beside her and pulled out a small metal box, about the size of a cash box. She lifted the lid, put the monster inside and locked the box. She then put the box back inside the drawer, slid the drawer shut and locked it. I’ve not had a nightmare since then.

I’ve been working with a mentor for almost a year now and she tells me repeatedly if I change the narrative, I can change the story, change my thought patterns, change my life. Ultimately, we all want to be happy but often times, our old habits are the very thing standing in our way. We’re self-sabotaging and have no idea we’re doing it. We aren’t aware because it’s what we’ve always done, and we’ve never been taught how to change it, that we have the power to change it.

She’s also told me that if I can accept pain, frustration, or any other emotion, the discomfort of it will soon disappear. I’ve tried this on a couple of occasions, most recently when symptoms of carpal tunnel flared in my right arm.

I played the flute for six years, all throughout middle and high school. I have worked a job involving a cash register or computer since I was 16. All of this repetitive motion led to having carpal tunnel. It was at its worse when I was in the last few months of my first pregnancy. There wasn’t much I could do at the time and my doctor said once the baby was born it would go away. And it did.

When the numbness and tingling began about a month ago and persisted for two weeks with no relief, I remembered my mentor's words - “accept it as it is." During my meditation session the next morning, I invited and welcomed the numbness, tingling and pain. Since that day, the symptoms have mostly resolved. Is it coincidence and they would have begun to resolve anyway? Perhaps. But there really is no way to know. What I do know is that I welcomed all of those things instead of wishing them away and they’ve gone. There are moments during the day where I experience mild symptoms but they are not persistent as they had been. This lesson also became valuable when my therapist said to focus on emotional acceptance.

I’ve asked my mentor on many occasions if she’s confident I have what it takes to change. She has complete, unwavering faith in me and when I am not able to trust myself and my own abilities, I remind myself that she believes in me. She’s no fool and would not be working with me and giving me her time and resources if she didn’t truly believe the return on her investment would be worth it.

As a small child, I’d go to bed every night wondering if I’d have another bad dream. I’d wake up wondering if my siblings woke up with me and sat and laughed at me again, as they often did. I’d wonder if they’d ever end. What I didn’t know to even think of at the time was what I could do to change it. Thankfully, there are people who do know we have the power within us to flip the script and who are willing to share how it can be done.

If I was less than ten years of age and unaware that, not only did I have the ability and power to change my life, but was able to do it, then surely now at 41 I can do the same. I can combat my negative thought patterns. I can make a conscious decision to do better, to do different, to do more, to do what is good for me, so that I can live the happy life that I deserve.

Listen to the Wind Chime

The last time I remember setting a concrete, real resolution at the beginning of a new year was back in middle school when I vowed to stop drinking Mountain Dew. I was drinking 6 to 8 cans a day, and almost always had one in my hand. Honestly, I never thought it tasted much better than anything else, and I wasn't much of a soda drinker otherwise. I'm not sure why I began drinking it - maybe because my brothers always had it - but for years, I drank several a day. 

Then one year I just decided to not drink it anymore. I think since then I've had one or two. I didn't do it because I was having trouble sleeping. I didn't do it because of the inability to concentrate at school or work. I didn't do it for weight issues. I just did it because something inside me said it was a good decision.

Several years ago, without a real promise or effort, I stopped drink soda altogether. I've had it sparingly since that time but am now mostly a coffee, tea and water girl. Seven months ago, when I began taking medicine for my depression, my doctor stressed the importance of not drinking alcohol while taking it. Sure, it's probably not going to matter much if I drink a glass of wine or have a beer once in a while. But because medicines of this sort are so much trial and error, I took her warning seriously and the last beer I had was the day we buried my dad on June 27. My medications have changed since that time and her warnings seem to have subsided, but something inside me, again, said this was a habit I needed to remove from my life.

For the past couple of years, in place of a resolution I've chosen a focus. To me, a focus does not hold the same amount of weight because the language is different. For example, rather than saying I want to lose this number of pounds, you can say I want to eat healthier, and then you change your eating habits. Instead of a strict gym commitment, you could vow to get more physical activity - walk, bike, hike, etc. By making the terms looser and more broad, it's almost impossible to fail.

A couple years ago, I wanted to spend more time reading. I'd always loved reading as a kid and hadn't done much of it for leisure after I got married and had kids of my own. I found a book, read it and my love for reading was reignited. I didn't own many books at that point and knew if I was going to achieve my goal of reading more, I needed to get more books. I got more books and I read more. I didn't need to spend a lot of money, or even a certain amount of time each day reading. I didn't need to read a book a week, three a month or fifty in a year. I just wanted to read more, and I succeeded.

2020 was a year none of us could have anticipated, especially when making a new resolution or setting a new focus. A lot of what we planned got canceled and we had to adapt to a new way of doing everything. We were hit with a lot of inconvenience, but I think if we all dig deep, we can admit that we also learned something.

I began meditating in late May, about a month after my father died. I'd always liked the idea of meditation but never took time to learn how to do it. A friend advised trying it, first for only 3 minutes, and see what happens. I wasn't committed to making it work so if it didn't I wasn't going to be upset. If it became something I was able to incorporate as a daily practice, that was also fine, and it wasn't going to hurt anything either way. I think the resistance to try before came from a few things. First, I'd never known anyone who meditated. I'd always associated it with other cultures and religions. Second, I wasn't sure when or how to start. I imagined it would be awkward - and in the beginning it was. Finally, I had a misconception that I needed to sit in a specific place, position myself in a specific way and be in complete silence. As a mom of three, complete silence does not exist!

I've missed a day here and there, but since that first three-minute session, I've meditated almost daily. It's become something I enjoy and look forward to. I am not always sure of the impact of small changes and new habits, especially when they don't give tangible results, but on more than one occasion I've been able to say "that's meditation at work". One day last week I opted for 20 more minutes of sleep in place of my morning session before my work day. My focus and attention the entire day was completely scattered. I was off task more than I was on and I couldn't sit still.

Most days I meditate sitting on the floor or upright on a chair or sofa, and though I'm often alone, I can tell you it's NEVER silent. I'm a person who doesn't always buy into 'never' and 'always' because I think those are two things that frequently have exceptions. But in this case it's true. I can hear the coffee pot brewing, the hum of the heater, sometimes rain or thunder outside, and other times the meowing of one of our cats. 

The closest I've been able to get to complete silence is my time in meditation. And when the sounds of everything else subsides, I can hear the unique song of one of my wind chimes. If the weather is calm it moves slowly and softly. If it's stormy or windy, the sound is louder and more aggressive. Either way, it takes the rest of the world to quiet. Only then can I hear it and it is one my favorite sounds.

The soft melody I hear reminds me often of that tiny voice inside of each of us. Some call it a conscience. Maybe it's our instinct or our gut. Whatever you call it, it's always present, and like the wind chime, sometimes it's whispering to us and other times it's shouting. Often times it takes shutting off the rest of the world for us to really hear it. Like when I knew I needed to stop drinking Mountain Dew, soda and alcohol. My inner wind chime was singing to me. Even when we can't hear anything, it's still there. These quiet, almost silent times, are when I'm able to hear the true melody of the voice within myself and get honest and real about where my energy needs to be directed.

When I considered what to focus on this year, I had to begin by asking myself what I learned from last year. In addition to learning how to meditate on a very basic and beginner level, I took away two valuable lessons that will remain significant for the rest of my life.

First, I learned that I am not alone. No one is alone. I've struggled for decades with suicidal ideation and depression, and I know people who've dealt with both, and some who've taken their own lives. What I learned this year though is that everyone is struggling and while not all struggles are the same, the feelings and the methods we can use to overcome these challenges are similar. 

I've always considered the blessing of my having depression is that I'll be more empathetic toward someone else who is dealing with it. I'll understand the signs, the situations and circumstances that can heighten those feelings, and I'll be able to share coping mechanisms. If I didn't understand my own struggle and didn't have this fight, I wouldn't have those capabilities.

The next thing I learned is what it is really like to be loved and how people treat you when they honestly love you. I wish it hadn't taken me 41 years to learn what love really looks like. Love isn't always getting a yes and being coddled. Love isn't only enjoying the high points of life together. Love is honest and patient and kind. I know I sound like I'm doing a reading at a wedding, but these are truly the characteristics of real love. 

I've gained a lot of friends this year and they've shown me what love is. They're ready to talk on my bad days as much as on my good days. They're happy to listen when I have a problem, but then they expect me to find a solution. They hold me accountable to myself and support me no matter what. It isn't a one way transaction and it doesn't mean we talk every day. They've taught me the value of being as honest and as kind to myself as I am to others. They've taught me the importance of learning to love myself the way I love others - without limits or conditions - even and especially on my worst days.

With these lessons, I could have sat down and participated in the 12 days of Thanksgiving and expressed endless gratitude for a number of things I gained last year. I could have set a resolution to be more strict in my daily gratitude practice. I could work toward increasing my mediation time. I could have done anything. But I don't want to set a resolution I'm likely to fail at. I don't want to do something because I'm obligated to by voicing a new commitment. For me, that takes away the sincerity and excitement. 

Once again I've chosen a focus, and for 2021 it's to be more loving to myself. I am very kind and loving to other people, but I've never spent enough time being kind to or loving myself. Love is shown in a variety of ways so the only way I can fail is to make no changes at all. This isn't something that requires a specific or ritualistic action. It isn't something that needs to cost any money or a lot of time. Self-care and love is as simple as taking time to read something I enjoy. Spending a few extra minutes in the shower because the water is relaxing. Taking a few minutes to "get ready" even if there is nowhere to go. I can put on my clothes and fix my hair simply because it makes me feel better. I can stop making negative comments to myself when I fail and instead accept my humanness. I can stop apologizing for saying no to others because it means saying yes to myself. The list of small things I can do each day is endless. If I have a bad day and the best I can do is get all of the must-dos done, that's okay. Instead of beating myself up for the things I didn't do, I can put be proud of myself for the things I did do.

I think loving others is a critical part of happiness, and it's something we're taught to do from a very young age. I wish I'd been taught with the same intensity about the importance of self-love. But it's been quiet enough for me to hear the wind chime from within and it's time to move forward and it's time to love myself.