The Furious Spinner

Literally. I haven't been able to talk since Tuesday night. It was very strange how it happened. On Tuesday I had a meeting with my supervisor. I very calmly and professionally told her what I thought about how I was being treated. Said, "I'm good at my job. I have expertise that is valuable. So when I say there is a problem, there is a problem. When I point those problems out, I am looking for answers and trying to problem-solve, and I would appreciate not being treated like a troublemaker." I am a direct communicator. I do not communicate well with non-direct communicators, nor they with me. I always thought that if someone is direct, all problems are solved. Not so. That only works if the other person is direct. If you're direct with someone who is a non-direct communicator, they often take the directness as an attack. It is so bizarre. For someone who is a direct communicator (like moi), non-direct communication appears to be passive aggressive and backstabbing. I understand that's all perspective. (Or almost all perspective.) Anyway, I felt very good about the conversation.

Then I went to my behavioral cognitive therapist (talk, talk, talk), then to dinner with friends (talk, talk, talk). We were all going to see Carlo Petrini at the Schnitz. When we called the box office, they said it would open at 5:30, two hours before the show. (General admission seating.) So Mario dropped me off a little past 6:00, so I could get us seats. We thought the doors were open so I didn't bring my coat or hat or scarf. They weren't. And it was windy and cold and I stood there shivering until they let us in, sometime after 7:00 p.m.

A few hours later, I couldn't talk. And I've got that stupid cough again.

I don't feel sick. I don't feel like writing either. I don't feel like communicating at all. It's very strange not talking. Have you ever tried it? I'm feeling again like that shy little girl I was—before I took myself by the shoulders and said, "Snap out of it!"

It's an interesting exercise.

And I'm ready for it to be over.

I am trying to be mindful. And this is what it is.

What it is, man, what it is.

Time to stop and smell the...everything.

And listen...

Labels: healing, mindfulness

4 comments

4 Comments:

Can you drink some tea? Can you bathe your vocal cords in something healthfull? Red clove blossom insusion or chicken broth w/ lots of garlic? What you have to say is worth saying.

By  Hecate, at 6:07 PM  

I once spent five days at a meditation and yoga retreat, not talking. That was intentional silence, and I was out of my normal routine. But I found it liberating. I learned how much of my persona I put out into the world by talking, how much I try to create myself and my personality by talking. It was a relief to realize, after a few days, that I could just relax and not work so hard to "put myself out there." It felt like less strategizing. More like just be-ing.

I suppose it's a kind of tantra - holding in one kind of energy so it can sublimate and emerge in a different way

By  Inanna, at 10:05 AM  

I'm trying! Thanks, Hecate; I appreciate it. I am on the mend, knock wood. Still don't feel like talkin' though, or writing. We'll see where this all goes...

By  Kim Antieau, at 8:58 PM  

Sorry, Inanna. I just got your message Monday morning. Don't know why. Anyway, yes, I feel as though something like that is happening, actually. My voice is almost 100%, but I still feel quiet. Still just want to listen...even if what I'm hearing is the poor dog next door howling because she's been alone for fours days and she's lonely...

By  Kim Antieau, at 10:46 AM  

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