Note: I’m breaking this into a two-part post because it’s long and there are no pictures.
Fridays are a good day for confessions, right? Clear the slate before the weekend?
Max and I took a hippy birthing class and one of the things we practiced was visualization. We were instructed to imagine a relaxing and happy situation. However, because I obsess over details, my feeble mind would quickly overwhelm itself with idiotic chatter and questions:
“Okay….relaxing place…hhmmm…family vacation at the lake! Oh but the sand is hard and has sticks in it. Okay then, I’m lying on my stomach on a blow-up raft in the lake. But which direction am I facing, and am I going to have to reapply sunscreen to the side of my face that’s stuck to the plastic raft pillow? Has it been used before or is it just out of the package? If it’s the latter I could get hives.
Wait, am I still pregnant? No, definitely not — that’s why you’re laying on your stomach, moron. So is the baby in the water too? Can she swim yet? Is she using those blow-up pillows that go on your arms or is that not what babies use these days?
What time of day is it? Have I already had my morning lemonade? Or is it the afternoon, meaning I’ve already had my afternoon lemonade which my stepdad doctors with Maker’s Mark?”
And so on……
In the end the visualization exercise ended up being more a lesson in self hatred than one of relaxation or distraction. I realized I needed to simplify, take myself out of the image, and concentrate on inanimate objects. And that’s where my confession comes into play: the visualization exercise only works for me when I picture food and alcohol.
More on this on Monday…….