Coming Back to the Breath: Sometimes the Hardest Part
Coming Back to the Breath: Sometimes the Hardest Part
Or, maybe this is true of all things that create a state change for the better?
I find that when I neglect meditation I begin to feel as if everything is urgent.
Every single thing I have ever considered doing must be done right this minute, which of course leads to feeling scattered, increased anxiety, disconnection from my intuition, and overall prevents me from doing anything at all except maybe complaining to friends via text about doing nothing at all.
It has been a long two days of sleep deprivation and abandonment of all healthful practices (and house care and any kind of movement toward career activity) while I’ve been caring for Copper, my Shiba Inu mix, who had multiple teeth extracted Monday morning.
Sunday night I didn’t sleep at all as I was so worried about waking early enough to administer his “chill protocol” meds before six in the morning to ensure his arrival to the vet would be as calm an experience as possible, especially since I enlisted Mom to drop him off for me on her way to work.
I tried to rest after I saw him off, but nothing happened. I didn’t have obvious thoughts of worry about the success of the procedure, but my cortisol must have been up.
Upon picking him up, I became a puddle while the vet tech explained how many and why each tooth had been extracted. Completely devastated at how much pain he must have been in all these months and angry with myself for not listening to my gut when it told me to take him in months and months ago, and ignore, not one, but two whack-job vets, who obviously did not and could not do a thorough examination of his teeth before telling me he was probably all right despite the signs that he wasn’t.
We might not have saved his smile over time, but at least his teeth would have been clean in between and would have been taken slowly, recovery from one or two extractions seems much easier to manage as opposed to a whole mouthful!
Monday evening he smacked his tongue around quite a bit as he explored his new mouth, the stitches, the missing teeth, and the feeling of the numbing agent slowly wearing off, I suspect.
Keeping him from licking his shaved leg at the IV site raw was near impossible. I tried a bandage that didn’t stay up and futilely tied a bandana around his leg. The only thing I could think of that might actually work outside of an e-cone was a toddler’s onesie. Something that would cover his arms tight enough it wouldn’t slide up and wouldn’t slip down because it was over his head.
We don’t have one of those lying around, so I slept with my arm around him and my hand over his leg.
I woke every time he shifted, but I was successful.
By Tuesday the numbing agent had worn off and he was feeling every single extraction even after pain meds administered with breakfast. He lay for hours in the same place on the floor, only getting up to readjust his position once. His spirits lifted just before dinner.
Last night I finally managed to engage in some slow breathing while obsessively playing consecutive games of solitaire. Not exactly ideal, but I couldn’t stop tapping NEW GAME, so I took what I could get from myself.
Today at 2 pm, I finished an energizing “morning” session all while grumbling at the recorded facilitation. Irritated indeed from the lack of meditation, from the lack of sleep, from the lack of estrogen at this time in my cycle, the lack of focus and clarity, lack of emotional energy after being worried about Copper for so many hours in a row.
Irritated at feeling like I have done absolutely nothing for three days and “wasting” my morning researching tools to build a successful independent publishing house and not doing absolutely everything else I felt I should have been doing. Or even knowing what I should have been doing.
Just plain irritated, full stop. We are all only human and so too are our practices.
He came right back to bed after breakfast this morning, but he’s more mobile, so improving. And so maybe I can return my attention to myself.
I find these the hardest parts of maintaining a practice: keeping them when in distress and coming back to them after they’ve been abandoned even say for a few days while family visits over Labor Day weekend.
Is this just me?
Though a regular meditation practice does rewire our brains and that has long-term effects even when we spend a few days not meditating, it goes without saying stressful periods would only benefit from continuing to follow the breath.
I’ve struggled this week.
And I don’t know if the session today helped to arrange my brain in any kind of useful way, but I wrote this instead of playing games of solitaire, so that seems like a win. Maybe tonight I’ll do my evening practice without holding my phone and tomorrow will be a new day.
I invite you to notice the areas, big or small, long-term or temporary, where you may be feeling a struggle or irritation. Spend some time breathing into these spaces and observing them free of judgment.
Reminder about Birthday Mail Extravaganza 40th Edition mentioned at the top of the last email and here:
