Author Archives: jillsalahub

Unknown's avatar

About jillsalahub

Writer & Contemplative Practice Guide holding space for people cultivating a foundation of a stable mind, embodied compassion and wisdom. CYT 500

Gratitude Friday

Leave a reply

1. Morning walks. Yesterday was so cold, only 6 degrees out, but that also meant instead of walking through our neighborhood, where not everyone had shoveled the sidewalks and there was ice and that’s not good for Sam because the two times he’s hurt himself it was slipping in the snow or on the ice, we drove to the park and walked on the trail by the river, (which the city is really good about keeping clear of ice and snow without using a bunch of salt, which is bad for the dogs’ feet). I hadn’t been able to do that for a few months and was so happy to see it, hear it.

2. Permission to turn down the volume. I don’t want to say too much about this because I think there’s a whole blog post there I might write later, but the short version is that there is so much suffering in the world right now and I’ve allowed it to get too close, to fill me up, and that’s not helpful to anyone, and when I get overwhelmed, it’s okay to take a break. Sometimes that looks like having donut holes with your coffee.

3. Winter. We are getting more snow this week. To be honest, other than the gray skies and no garden and sometimes treacherous conditions for walking and driving, I prefer the fall and winter in Colorado over spring and summer. And yet, before the first snow came this week, we had a few days in the 60s, and that did have me longing for warmer weather and green.

What a difference a day can make

4. Practice. I’ve been writing a bit more about this lately, as I’m working on a book and a class about cultivating practice: what is it, how do you start and sustain it, what are the benefits and contraindications, etc.

5. Good food. Whenever Eric posts pictures of what he cooks on his Facebook page, people gush about how amazing it is, how amazing he is, so after he posted a picture of the tiny pies he made this week, I had to counter with a picture of the biscuits I made, just in case people might start thinking he’s the only one who cooks yummy stuff.

6. My tiny family. Sam is so sweet and I love that he’s in such good shape, as he is now officially the oldest dog we’ve ever had and he seems like he’s got another couple of good years left in him yet. Ringo seems to really like having me at home more during the day, is much more likely to look to me for attention even when Eric is home too. And Eric, well he’s my favorite person on the planet.

Bonus joy: Getting all the laundry done, candy, big fat fluffy snowflakes, warm cheesy biscuits, toast with butter and marionberry jam, sitting under my heating pad and favorite blanket on the couch, reading, listening to podcasts, a warm shower, making Eric laugh, cancelled plans, the ink refills for my new pen being back in stock, soft pajamas, taking off my bra, reading in bed at night while Eric and the dogs sleep, baby animals.

 

What I’m Learning/Doing: I’m (Re)Tired

2 Replies

Craving green and quiet…

This weekend I felt the itch to blog, to share something with you here, kind and gentle reader. I was working on my Something Good post for Monday, reading a post Austin Kleon had made about this being a Leap Year and February having 29 days, suggesting a 29-day challenge. I thought to myself, “Hey, I’ve been writing a lot but not sharing on my blog, maybe I should do this challenge even though I’m starting a day late.” After I finished working on my other post, I created another, a Day of Rest one. As I stared at the blank screen thinking about how to start, I felt dizzy, had to grab the sides of my desk to steady myself. In that moment I realized I needed to rest, not write about it.

Before I go any further, I need to be clear about my privilege. It allowed me to retire, it allows me to do the things I need to do right now to heal, it allows me to take a step back and reevaluate and take things slow, it allows me choices. I am fully aware as I write about the ways in which I am struggling, I also have access to so much support, a safety net that others just don’t.

When I quit my CSU job, I had a very clear plan of what I wanted to do next. I’ve spent the past 10+ years making a plan and creating a foundation. I left room for the specific details to shift if necessary, but I had a very clear idea, a specific mission. I knew I’d need a bit of time to regroup and recover once I actually stopped working at CSU, but I thought I’d take the summer off like usual and start in the fall. That isn’t what happened at all.

I had no idea until I stopped how truly burnt out I was. And even when I identified it as “burnout” I didn’t realize how deep it ran, how serious it was, or how long it was going to take to heal. I had absolutely nothing on reserve, no resilience. I was like a dried out, overstretched rubber band about to snap. I was numb and tired, and when I wasn’t I was filled with rage and grief. To say I’d “hit a wall” was a super accurate description of how I felt, hit it at 100 miles an hour after getting run over by a truck.

In the simplest terms, my plan was to teach and write. And yet, the kind of teaching I do requires holding space for people working on big stuff, which requires me to be my most stable, sane version of myself. As an introverted hsp, on a regular day when I’m at my strongest and most flexible, it takes a lot of energy (and then recovery) to do so, and right now, I just don’t have it to spare. My writing, particularly anything I write about my lived experience, requires that I revisit and re-experience some painful, hard things, and that also requires stability, sanity, and energy.

I experience fatigue, anxiety, and depression from various sources; perimenopause, burnout, S.A.D., complex-ptsd, Hashimoto’s, and being hsp, (add to this list things happening with people I love and in the larger world that provide real and direct reasons to be anxious, sad, and tired); and on most days, I’m not at capacity to teach or write certain things. My efforts focus instead on coping and healing — rest, therapy, self-care, etc. — honoring where I’m at and what I need. I am teaching one regular weekly yoga class with a small group of regulars, writing and reading a lot, and on some days I am able to cross something off my larger to-do list that moves me one tiny step closer to showing up more directly.

That being said, thank you for still being here. Thank you for continuing to share this space with me, for showing up and offering your support. Thank you for not giving up, for doing the healing you need to do, for honoring what you need and want, for helping when you can, for continuing to try. Your presence and efforts encourage me, and I’m so grateful.