I love these poems so much, Elizabeth. I am so very glad to have met you here on Substack through bears. What a charmed thing. Thank you for what you’ve written here to accompany your poems. Tomorrow, when I go out, I’m going to look for yellow.
Two beautiful poems, separated by time, displaying your growth as you deal with anxiety. From a desire to escape its hold by being in someone else’s skin, to an acceptance and understanding that it is part of your gift. For we can only write from a soul that is perceptive, sensitive and creative.
I love when you say you're learning how to be a good friend to yourself. We are such a mystery. Do we all have three selves? The Super, the Shadow--and that Steady One who is noticing and making loving suggestions to help.
Ah, the artistry of vulnerability, and how interesting that it can be both topic and result. I'm sorry for all the anxious moments, when dread threatens to choke you nearly to death, but I'm grateful for your superpower. These are important words.
Thank you for your beautiful, vulnerable poetry. I too often feel trapped in a body that feels unnecessarily anxious, and I too am a sensitive soul who notices, feels, and imagines deeply. Thank you for this poetic hug.
Elizabeth, c*vid brought so much to the surface and rewired us all I think. I can definitely relate to your experience, though perhaps not as deeply. Conversations with a Spiritual Director over Zoom have helped a lot.
I particularly liked your last paragraph:
"But I have become a lot more tolerant of my anxiety, a lot more willing — when it’s one of those days — to give myself some grace and to do the things I know how to do to help myself. I’ve learned, really learned, to understand anxiety as the shadow-side of my capacity for awareness and imagination. Would I set aside my original superpower, to get rid of its shadow? Not a chance."
We are human beings which means we experience human emotions and feelings--God is still there in the middle of it all. Thanks for sharing your view....
"God, you are with me -- please help me into my shoes and out the door" is a prayer I've prayed more than once, Jody ... and yes, God is there, always, in the midst! Thank you for reading and commenting.
I can really relate to both poems and that pleading/ praying to be in another body. I also find that grounding helps, which is why (I think) writing poetry helps too--it allows us to focus on something outside of ourselves, even if for just a moment. I appreciate your being vulnerable and sharing your struggle in such a meaningful way. Thank you.
Many ways to ground ourselves, when we remember ... and yes, it's all about the focus outside of ourselves as well as in. Thank you for reading and comment, MK -- much valued.
I love this. I’ve been dealing with depression and anxiety,m most of my life, and still lack day-to-day tools to use when therapy and medication aren’t taking the brunt of it. I want to try to name some colors too 💛.
Naming colors, narrating movements under my breath ("okay, got the shoes, now I'm sitting down, one slipper off, two off..."), all the watch-your-breathing exercises that everyone recommends ... anything that can turn my attention just a little bit outward so I can both be myself and keep myself company (if that makes any sense??). I hope you see the best colors today, Margaret Ann. 💛🌿
Yes, that makes sense. I like the idea of keeping oneself company. I tend to narrate my actions too; I didn’t make the connection that it was self-soothing, but it totally is.
I love these, Elizabeth, and the juxtaposition of the two poems, written ten years apart. How ten years later you find the calm in paying attention to colors— yellow!—all around you, the courage to step out into the day in spite of anxiety. I feel the same with depression, when I can pay attention, sometimes I can see color through the fog. I’m going to pay attention to colors on my walk today.
Thank you for noticing the dates, LeeAnn! And yes, turning outward just as far as from our wounded minds to one or two of our five senses can change how the day goes sometimes. I hope the colors are wonderful company for you on your walk.
I saw purple morning glories, dark purple blackberries, and red pyracantha, with some white wildflowers sprinkled in the dry grass that can look gold sometimes.
Also your ability to see what the light side of the shadow is. We just did our week on that in my Stepping into the Story class last week. It's always fun to watch, well, light dawn, as people face their shadows and then uncover the light.
I love these poems so much, Elizabeth. I am so very glad to have met you here on Substack through bears. What a charmed thing. Thank you for what you’ve written here to accompany your poems. Tomorrow, when I go out, I’m going to look for yellow.
So glad to have you for a reader, Jeni! Looking for yellow can add a lot to going out, whether one is anxious at the time or not.
Bears rule! 🤎🧸🤎
Willing to give yourself some grace... Yes, dear Elizabeth, grace! 💛
Grace to you, Fotini! 💛🌿
Thanks for sharing about your shadow side and for realizing how it contributes to your walk in the light!
💛🌿
Two beautiful poems, separated by time, displaying your growth as you deal with anxiety. From a desire to escape its hold by being in someone else’s skin, to an acceptance and understanding that it is part of your gift. For we can only write from a soul that is perceptive, sensitive and creative.
What a warm and generous response, Maureen -- thank you. And glad to "see" you here, I hope you enjoyed your summer travels!
Thanks, Elizabeth. I had a lovely time, but it’s good to be back.
I love when you say you're learning how to be a good friend to yourself. We are such a mystery. Do we all have three selves? The Super, the Shadow--and that Steady One who is noticing and making loving suggestions to help.
Oh, I like that set of three, Ann -- thank you! 💛🌿
Thank you for sharing these two very relatable poems Elizabeth. Walking is a great help for with my anxiety.
It's such a blessing to find what helps, isn't it? Thank you always for reading and commenting, Pamela.
“Imperfectly Regular” - I love that concept - so freeing!
Isn't it??? Took me a long time to get there, but it's made a huge difference. Thanks so much for reading and commenting, Joan.
Ah, the artistry of vulnerability, and how interesting that it can be both topic and result. I'm sorry for all the anxious moments, when dread threatens to choke you nearly to death, but I'm grateful for your superpower. These are important words.
Thank you, Elizabeth. 💛🌿
Thank you for your beautiful, vulnerable poetry. I too often feel trapped in a body that feels unnecessarily anxious, and I too am a sensitive soul who notices, feels, and imagines deeply. Thank you for this poetic hug.
So glad it spoke to you, Mike. Thank you for saying so.
Elizabeth, c*vid brought so much to the surface and rewired us all I think. I can definitely relate to your experience, though perhaps not as deeply. Conversations with a Spiritual Director over Zoom have helped a lot.
I particularly liked your last paragraph:
"But I have become a lot more tolerant of my anxiety, a lot more willing — when it’s one of those days — to give myself some grace and to do the things I know how to do to help myself. I’ve learned, really learned, to understand anxiety as the shadow-side of my capacity for awareness and imagination. Would I set aside my original superpower, to get rid of its shadow? Not a chance."
We are human beings which means we experience human emotions and feelings--God is still there in the middle of it all. Thanks for sharing your view....
"God, you are with me -- please help me into my shoes and out the door" is a prayer I've prayed more than once, Jody ... and yes, God is there, always, in the midst! Thank you for reading and commenting.
I can really relate to both poems and that pleading/ praying to be in another body. I also find that grounding helps, which is why (I think) writing poetry helps too--it allows us to focus on something outside of ourselves, even if for just a moment. I appreciate your being vulnerable and sharing your struggle in such a meaningful way. Thank you.
Many ways to ground ourselves, when we remember ... and yes, it's all about the focus outside of ourselves as well as in. Thank you for reading and comment, MK -- much valued.
Very good. Can it be that the shadow brought about the superpower? As a way of helping you cope with it?
Chicken, egg ... ? Fun to speculate! Thanks for being here, Wes.
I love this. I’ve been dealing with depression and anxiety,m most of my life, and still lack day-to-day tools to use when therapy and medication aren’t taking the brunt of it. I want to try to name some colors too 💛.
Naming colors, narrating movements under my breath ("okay, got the shoes, now I'm sitting down, one slipper off, two off..."), all the watch-your-breathing exercises that everyone recommends ... anything that can turn my attention just a little bit outward so I can both be myself and keep myself company (if that makes any sense??). I hope you see the best colors today, Margaret Ann. 💛🌿
Yes, that makes sense. I like the idea of keeping oneself company. I tend to narrate my actions too; I didn’t make the connection that it was self-soothing, but it totally is.
I love this Elizabeth, how beautifully you have walked through anxiety over the years, I find it a good companion at times, other times, not so much.
You're very kind, Lisa! I never feel in the moment that I'm walking through anxiety beautifully, but at least I'm learning to walk. :-)
I love these, Elizabeth, and the juxtaposition of the two poems, written ten years apart. How ten years later you find the calm in paying attention to colors— yellow!—all around you, the courage to step out into the day in spite of anxiety. I feel the same with depression, when I can pay attention, sometimes I can see color through the fog. I’m going to pay attention to colors on my walk today.
Thank you for noticing the dates, LeeAnn! And yes, turning outward just as far as from our wounded minds to one or two of our five senses can change how the day goes sometimes. I hope the colors are wonderful company for you on your walk.
I saw purple morning glories, dark purple blackberries, and red pyracantha, with some white wildflowers sprinkled in the dry grass that can look gold sometimes.
Glorious!
Love this.
Also your ability to see what the light side of the shadow is. We just did our week on that in my Stepping into the Story class last week. It's always fun to watch, well, light dawn, as people face their shadows and then uncover the light.
What a healing, creativity-sparking exercise to do in your class, Jenn! Thanks for reading.
That is for sure my intent.
It's always a pleasure (and enlightening!) to read your work.