Breaking Patterns

I returned to Orange County for the holiday week after being away for the past 5 months. I took much needed time and space for myself, despite my mom's several attempts to see me. My heart has been at full capacity, leaving absolutely no room to absorb the emotional volatility and noise of my family environment. For the first time in my life, I made repeated choices to draw boundaries with my parents and family. With a combination of kindness and clear assertion, I explained repeatedly to my dear mom why I couldn't see her sooner than when I was ready. These choices were a huge break from my habitual pattern of behavior. She had several reactions ranging from guilting me, dramatic disbelief, hurt tears, confusion, anger, reluctant understanding, and eventually some level of acceptance. I was not going to see them until I was ready in my heart and body.

I'm really proud of the choices I made, how I made them, and how I communicated them to my family. Taking the space I needed gave me time to heal and create spaciousness for regrouping emotionally. As a result, I have come back with a lightness and openness to connecting with my family in a different way. I feel more present. I see them more clearly. I love them with more acceptance.

My first day back has been the same as it's always been, except that my attention and senses are a tad bit sharper than usual. How does this change my experience?

The small things are bringing me more joy, and the things that are really irritating or frustrating are less so.

The joys?
Breathing in deeply the wonderful smell of burning incense from my parents' morning prayers.
Watching rays of sunlight coming and disappearing, playfully almost, into my window as I read in the early morning.
Throwing a sock back and forth with my nephew for a really long time.
Joining in on the high pitched squealing of my 3 year old niece.

The less frustrating?
My brother's obnoxiously loud throat clearing ritual.
My mom's smothering reminder to wear socks because of the cold floor.
My dad's stubbornness about taking care of his health. This time, the suspicious mole on his face!
My parents talking over each other, bickering incessantly as they do.

Quietly, I am watching these moments come and go, not getting hooked by them like I usually do. I am feeling grateful for my practice which has kept me joyfully detached from these passing moments.

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