in bed


By Carolyn Riker

I love to love—and give.

I love to connect and yet, there are times when inner pressures meet outer pressures and I combust.

It is a stealthy and an unnerving feeling when everything-seems-to-be-falling-apart.

Often, there’s an intense urge to subdue the lesser friendly thoughts and emotions. Then there are days when it hurts to breathe. Tears come readily in unexpected places like a grocery store, red light, or green light, to any song on the radio, while making dinner, loud or soft noises, cleaning or playing the piano.

It can get to the point of feeling shaky and dizzy.

In an attempt to pull-myself-together I wonder, if only I could figure out what triggers a trigger into feeling overwhelmed? If only there was some sort of linear configuration.

I get a bit louder, why, don’t feelings make any logical sense? Why do I love to love and seriously want to hide at the same time?

Being public is exhausting for a hybrid introverted-extroverted subspecies. I am highly attuned to the vibrational flickers of lint. Imagine regular day-to-day stuff?

Somehow, through a mysterious grace of innate survival, inner words can be superseded with a self-loving and knowing mantra:

Shhh, it’s going to be okay. Not everything has to make sense.

It’s taken me awhile, but recently I created a list of areas I usually ignore but I’m fairly certain contribute to feelings of overwhelm:

    • exhausted
    • grumpy
    • lots (and lots) of thoughts
    • lack of appetite
    • or an insatiable cravings for not-so-healthy-foods
    • overscheduled
    • perfectionistic: I-can-do-it-all-because-I-have-to
    • little or no time for fun

To help find my center, and to navigate this state of full out sensory and responsibility overload, I have to tell my-lovable-crazy-overachieving self, stop!

I need to take drastic measures and honestly this is extremely hard for me to do.

No social media. My cellphone is muted. Sometimes, I have to ask for help.

I close the blinds and face plant (gently) into a reversed Savasana. I have been informed it is called Restorative Crocodile by a real yoga person.

Unfortunately, my imagination went a bit wild with restoring my inner crocodile and voila! I was in brackish swamp-like waters of the Everglades, contemplating the differences between a crocodile and an alligator; the conditions were not conducive to a relaxing state.

Therefore, I created Face-Plant-Asana, for those who don’t mind a non-serious form of yoga.

During this process, I need ample pillows and blankets around me, near me and on top of me. My heavy-weighted house tiger nestles neatly in the nest and joins me with cat-like wisdom.

Yes, this is exactly what you need. Listen, and shutdown. I trust him; he does it 17+ hours a day.

I let the bed, sofa or floor carry me. I let the abundance of perceived (or not) worries, wants, needs, excuses and overwhelm, sink into an abyss of nothingness.

I begin to float.

Lately, on these excursions, I’ve been floating in the clearest blue waters with creamy white sand beneath me. Surrounding me, there’s an amazing protective dome that goes for miles and miles above and below and side to side.

Nothing can pierce this sphere.

I can safely feel each muscle gradually letting go and melt into the warm water.

I lay in the creases of my heart-blanket-fort until I’m grounded again.

With much practice, I know if I stay there long enough words of wisdom surface.

“It is going to be okay. It may not be all beautiful when your inner world unravels and yet it really is. In this delicate space, where light and shadows meet, there is an endless river of cosmic wisdom.”

And when all of the geometric spheres of the universe are properly realigned, I also recalibrate. It’s there I can relax a notch and bow to an inner refuge and be held, honored and hum melodic notes of love.


Photo: (source)

Editor: Dana Gornall


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