anxiety Archives - Page 3 of 5

The Wretched and the Glorious

March 25, 2024August 26, 2018 by Kelly Inselmann

LIFE IS BOTH WRETCHED AND GLORIOUS
BY Pema Chödrön

“Life is glorious, but life is also wretched. It is both. Appreciating the gloriousness inspires us, encourages us, cheers us up, gives us a bigger perspective, energizes us. We feel connected.

“But if that’s all that’s happening, we get arrogant and start to look down on others, and there is a sense of making ourselves a big deal and being really serious about it, wanting it to be like that forever. The gloriousness becomes tinged by craving and addiction.

“On the other hand, wretchedness–life’s painful aspect–softens us up considerably. Knowing pain is a very important ingredient of being there for another person. When you are feeling a lot of grief, you can look right into somebody’s eyes because you feel you haven’t got anything to lose–you’re just there.

“The wretchedness humbles us and softens us, but if we were only wretched, we would all just go down the tubes. We’d be so depressed, discouraged, and hopeless that we wouldn’t have enough energy to eat an apple.

“Gloriousness and wretchedness need each other. One inspires us, the other softens us. They go together.”

– Pema Chödrön, Start Where You Are: A Guide to Compassionate Living

Room for All of This

March 25, 2024June 11, 2018 by Kelly Inselmann

“We think that the point is to pass the test or overcome the problem, but the truth is that things don’t really get solved.

They come together and they fall apart. Then they come together again and fall apart again.

It’s just like that.

The healing comes from letting there be room for all of this to happen:

room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy.”

― Pema Chödrön

Treasure in the Clay Pot

March 25, 2024June 4, 2018 by Kelly Inselmann

“We must be willing to let go of the life we planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us.”

Joseph Campbell

Leslie had the next 5 years planned out.

She had quit the large law firm in order to stay home with her kids. Her plan was to eventually move into flexible part time practice for more time home and less pressure to make billable hours.

Leslie was an organized woman. Vacations and visits to relatives were scheduled in advance. Babysitters and grandparents were on call to help as needed. Her house was clean and orderly, even with young kids. She volunteered, gave money to good causes, and had good friends.

Leslie felt competent and in control much of the time. This was very important to her. Like any young mother she was sleep deprived, but things were working out well and she had a strong belief that with correct planning, life would get better and better.

And then one day, she discovered a lump in her breast.

You can guess where this is headed…

To put it bluntly, all of Leslie’s expectations came to a grinding halt and things changed forever.

Though she had good insurance and lots of support from family and community, it was still excruciatingly difficult to undergo aggressive medical treatments for the better part of a year. She felt lonely and confused. She also felt depressed and scared. Sometimes she felt angry.

And when the active treatment was over, she was left with many side effects, especially chemobrain and lymphedema of the arm and torso, both of which caused her much frustration and grief.

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This past weekend, I visited my mother in Houston. As we were sitting in her church on Sunday morning, I was struck by one of the verses and thought of Leslie and what it takes to recover emotionally from cancer:

For it is the God who said “Let light shine out of darkness”…But we have this treasure in clay jars, so that it may be made clear that this extraordinary power belongs to God and does not come from us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed…

2 Corinthians 4:5-12

You may feel all of this as you go through treatment or recovery from it: afflicted, perplexed, persecuted, struck down. And I would venture to say that many of us also feel crushed, despairing, forsaken, and destroyed at times.

The key to freedom is the treasure in the clay pot that lifts you out of these dark places of isolation, fear, and feelings of abandonment. It’s the light inside of you, the clay pot being your body…

In my view, the Light is your experience of the Infinite, and a power greater than yourself, however you imagine that to be. While parts of you are finite and your body is vulnerable and limited (especially as you go through or recover from cancer), the Light is also there, just beneath the surface.

Remembering this Light, connecting to it is, is part of yoga and meditation practice. A favorite element of kundalini yoga practice is the song we end with in class:

May the longtime sun shine upon you

All love surround you

and the pure light within you

guide your way on

Make Room

March 25, 2024April 30, 2018 by Kelly Inselmann

When my daughter was a toddler, at Montessori school, she learned many important life skills. Lately, I’m reminded of one in particular.

It is the ability to “make room.”

When the children would crowd up trying to see something, start a new activity, or gather around a snack table, one child might be behind the others, trying to get in, but blocked or pushed aside. “Let’s make room for our friend,” the teacher would gently say, and the little group would part to include the new person.

The lesson wasn’t shaming, as early childhood lessons can sometimes be, depending on who is delivering it. This cue was gentle – a reminder that the space was not fixed or rigid. Everyone could fit if there was willingness and flexibility. Nobody had to be left out.

Make room.

This is not a phrase I grew up knowing. I grew up in a competitive, achievement oriented environment that did not value vulnerability.

There were no adults gently saying “make room.” It was more like “You snooze, you lose!” “No pain, no gain,” “Finders keepers,” and, well, you know the rest.

Of course, focusing on a goal inspires action and toughness and hard work.

But the gentleness of making room for others is such a tender practice for me to learn with my daughter. Anytime I say it to a child, they do it with grace and eagerness. It acknowledges the legitimacy and right of everyone to participate. It grants the choice to be generous and inclusive.

Making room is also an important part of healing emotionally and physically from the effects of cancer and cancer treatment. People struggle tremendously with so-called “negative” emotions – anger, pain, loss, fear, grief, and often are convinced that it they allow a “negative” thought, feeling, or sensation to have space at the table of awareness, it will take over and destroy everything.

We squelch these feelings because they are uncomfortable or painful. But you simply cannot outrun (or out squelch) yourself and your experiences forever, as much as many of us would like to be able to do!

I’ll admit it. I’m on a mission to encourage people to begin to make room inside themselves for their feelings, instead of attempting to repress, deny or escape them.

Imagine there is room for everything to be present. Don’t feel like you have to push anything away. Imagine that your thoughts and feelings have the right to be here with you, whatever they are, part of your human experience.

Take a few long deep breaths.

Have the intention of spending a few moments observing and allowing the feeling to be present, just one of the crowd of thoughts and feelings. Experiment with not pushing it away for a few moments.

It’s a simple, subtle, practice, this making room inside yourself. Simple, but not easy. Eventually the goal is to befriend the difficult sensation, thought or emotion, so that it’s not an enemy at the gate.

But you don’t have to move so quickly.

You can begin by entertaining the idea of generously making room at the table to include a more vulnerable part of yourself, just as the children make way to include a new friend.

Deep Quiet

March 25, 2024February 26, 2018 by Kelly Inselmann

Yesterday I was at a day long meditation, enjoying spaciousness and the stillness. During one of the breaks, I sat next to a friend, both of us quiet and content. Finally I turned to her and said, “I have nothing to say and nothing to do. I NEVER have nothing to say and nothing to do these days!” It felt so good to sit in that space of deep quiet and peace.

The effect of the meditation is more important than the experience of the meditation itself. You may feel bored, distracted, blissful, or any other emotion during the meditation. Regardless of the details of the meditation, your brain and nervous system still benefit. It’s important to remember that the main purpose of meditation is to have access to a calm, stable and neutral mind when you are not in actual meditation.

Compare, Compete, Confuse

May 14, 2020January 7, 2018 by Kelly Inselmann

“Compare, compete, confuse.” Yogi Bhajan

Have you seen all the posts on social media about resolutions for self -improvement and professional success in the New Year? There are endless programs to improve your life in every way – lose weight! Re-design your living room! Finish your book in 30 days! Be more politically active! Learn how to be a better parent or have the most perfect kid!

While intellectually I know better, I can feel triggered at times into old, critical self talk which focuses on how much more I SHOULD be doing. This comparison does not inspire healthy competition, but leads to distraction and confusion about what to focus on and dropping the ball from what REALLY inspires me.

Comparisons also happen a lot when faced with cancer and it’s aftermath. While going through treatment, you often hear about how others manage their cancer experience: Mary just “breezed right through it,” Sharon “rode her bike to chemo,” and Leslie “treated radiation like nap time.” Well, good to know but VERY different from how challenging many people find the whole experience.

After active treatment, survivors often feel they should be “over it” more quickly than is realistic and loved ones can encourage this view because they want you to go back to “normal” quickly.

Ten years after diagnosis, I want to remember a few things:

Go at your own pace. Treat fellow travelers on similar life paths with respect and maybe affection, but don’t let their steps knock you off your stride.
Be present with people when they are speaking to you. Especially your family. Nothing is more important.
Enjoy every chance to move your body. Don’t take this for granted.
Meditate every day, without judgment about how long or how perfectly.
The day is not wasted if you’ve found pleasure in it. Go out to dinner, see a movie, read a novel, show up at a party, appreciate the beauty of nature in your neighborhood, take a nap, play Monopoly with your kid. Laugh.

Healthy pleasures boost the immune system and make life worth living!

Anticipation vs. Expectations

March 25, 2024December 18, 2017 by Kelly Inselmann

In yoga class, as students begin turning their attention inward, noticing their thoughts, feelings, and sensations, I give the suggestion that they also let go of their expectations of what they imagined the class would be like, whether they will like it or not, and whether they will “perform” perfectly. At this point, I often notice a shift in the room as breathing deepens and awareness of what is happening right here and now increases.

Practicing what I preach, this week I’ve been working on the theme of managing my own high expectations in real life.

The month has been chock full of activity and emotions for me.

Two friends passed away and I was shocked and saddened, feeling their absence and realizing the transitory reality of life.

A week ago we hosted a large holiday party benefitting my daughter’s dance school and felt the warmth of being surrounded by lively community, bright spirits, and excited children.

Three days later my family and I boarded an early morning flight to NYC for the Bar Mitzvah celebration of my dear friend Shari’s son.

I’m on my way home now, Sunday evening, writing this blog from the JFK airport where our flight is delayed 4 hours.

Before the holiday party, I was feeling overwhelmed about how the party would turn out, packing for our trip, and making it to the end of our NY adventure without something going wrong, one of us catching the flu, or simply running out of energy.

I called my wise friend, a long time yogi and meditator who knows her own boundaries and isn’t afraid to set them.

“You want to know my mantra for when things get crazy like this?” she asked. I agreed, expecting something from the yogic teachings.

Her advice? “LOWER. YOUR. EXPECTATIONS.”

I laughed out loud at the phrase, so opposite to what we hear in popular culture, with its emphasis on high standards, positive thinking, working hard, and manifesting your dream. And I laughed with recognition at how out of whack my expectations had become. In theory everything was possible, yet events would inevitably unfold beyond my control, just as they always do.

As a cancer survivor, I’ve had a lot of practice with events unfolding beyond my control. I’ve had to learn over and over to release my emotional attachment to the OUTCOME looking a certain way in order for me to feel successful or happy in this moment. Instead of focusing on outcome, I can choose to focus on the PROCESS, and by that I mean the moment to moment interactions with others and my awareness of my inner experience.

The process also includes maintaining my commitment to showing up and being as present mentally, emotionally and spiritually as I can be. Being truly present means I can see, hear, and sense the actual REALITY of the situation, not just a mental fantasy about how things COULD or SHOULD look or be.

To have a chance at enjoying the moments, I needed to let go of my VERY strong personal attachment to things working out just exactly the way I dreamed them up.

When I arrived in NY and had lunch with Shari, I passed on the advice about lowered expectations. She laughed as well. Her mind was on overdrive, trying to remember every detail and manage everyone else’s experience.

After the amazing party on Saturday night, when we were having brunch and talking about how fun it all was, I heard her share the mantra that helped her be happy with things exactly as they were. She said, “I just kept telling myself: “lower your expectations.”

Thank You for this Breath

March 25, 2024November 20, 2017 by Kelly Inselmann

Thanksgiving 2007. We had a month old baby girl and were over the moon in love with her. But I wasn’t sleeping at all which made me a little psychotic and I had mastistis, a breast infection, which made breastfeeding excruciating. Looking back, I probably also had post partum depression. Or was it intuition about what was coming?

Still, our baby was healthy and happy and we were trying to adjust to new life rhythms.

Following Thanksgiving, I underwent a series of scans that led to a biopsy, that led to being diagnosed with stage 3 breast cancer on December 13. My daughter was 2 months old.

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This moment. This breath.

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I went for chemo at MD Anderson throughout 2008, and often asked my friend GG to accompany me. I looked forward to being with her because she was relaxed and neutral and present. She didn’t try to cheer me up. She was just available and gave her time generously. Each time I called her up to see if she could come, the answer was always yes, without checking her schedule.

I found it natural to be grateful for many blessings-health insurance, the support of family and friends, the ability to take time off work, my daughter’s health and the love she received from community. But it was hard to be grateful for the rest-the impact on my body of grueling procedures, life interruptions, the pain, the fear of leaving my daughter, the insomnia, the emotional ups and downs that felt terrible when everyone was trying to be kind.

When GG was there, she helped me stay in the present moment, expressing gratitude for things exactly as they were. Often, that was the opposite of what I was feeling, which was scared and exhausted.

After the nurses set up infusion bags, while waiting to begin the chemo, we set a healing intention. We prayed the chemo would reach the cancer cells and spare the rest.

And each time, GG made this simple statement: “Thank You for this moment. Thank You for this breath.”

So simple. I couldn’t have come up with those words, but her prayer shifted me into being present with everything just as it was: the boredom of the moment, how slow it all went, the physical discomfort, my connection to a loving friend, and the profound lack of certainty.

Ten years later, I’m still learning to be thankful for each moment and each breath.

Releasing Tension

April 9, 2024November 13, 2017 by Kelly Inselmann

This is the 8th exercise from Kriya for Immune Fitness, an excellent kundalini yoga set for the lymphatic and nervous systems. In this exercise, breathe in and out though circled lips. Inhale as you squeeze the elbows close to the ribcage, exhale punching out to the sides. The thumb is placed inside fists. Add the mental mantra, thinking to yourself Sat (truth) on the inhale, Nam (identity) on the exhale.

The Thaw

March 25, 2024October 9, 2017 by Kelly Inselmann

The days seemed endless, and Michele marked them off in her calendar like a prisoner records days of a long sentence on the wall. Six months of weekly chemo followed by 6 months of infusions every few weeks. In between, there was surgery and radiation. She resisted anything slowing down her progress. She focused on the day she was declared free of the cancer and free to get her life back.

At the end of active treatment, little things that used to annoy her, barely registered. She had more perspective about what is important: family, health, showing compassion for herself and others.

Michele survived emotionally with positive affirmations and faith, and by sheer grit: grinning and bearing it. To assuage the worry and fear of others, she often appeared cheerful, squelching pain, disappointment, grief and anger.

In the months following the end of treatment, she begins to feel easily irritated, fatigued and emotional. She has trouble containing her feelings, and they erupt in a flash of anger or tears at inopportune moments. She’s hard on herself for lacking gratitude. She worries her lack of positivity will bring the cancer back.

Michele is not alone! In my Yoga and Talk® Groups and Classes for Cancer Survivors, I see this phase of recovery often and I call it “the thaw.”

The thaw can occur anytime during or after treatment and is hard to predict.

The shock and emotional numbness that offered (unconscious) protection from the trauma begins to wear off, often unevenly. Sometimes, you feel positive and grateful, other times the future seems plagued with danger and endless fear of recurrence. Effort can feel meaningless, your feelings raw or simmering below the surface.

You know how when your foot falls asleep and then you try to walk and you have to take your time and it’s awkward and uncomfortable? The emotional thaw is similar in that you have to take your time and people may need to wait.

While it can be deeply unsettling, in my experience, it’s also a signal that you are ready for emotional healing.

As your heart thaws and you come to terms with the reality of what happened to you, give yourself as much permission as possible to rest and allow the sensations and feelings to emerge, be understood and healed.

Here are a few ways to be kind to yourself during the thaw:

Know that tears are the body and mind’s way of cleansing. It’s a way of integrating your experience, so the thought and feeling are not separated inside you. If you need to cry, cry until the tears are gone for the moment. Don’t try to stop the tears. Stay with the feeling. It won’t last forever. Michele recently told me that she lets herself cry in the house, car, and shower. When the tears come, she welcomes them and tries to squeeze every last one out. Sometimes people cry in yoga class or in my groups and because they are in public, they try to turn it off and feel embarrassed. At least in my classes, I say bring it on – it’s a sign that you are cleansing and integrating.
Find ways to discharge grief and anger physically, through exercise or art.
Vent to a trusted friend or support group. Be willing to name what you are actually feeling and be heard. If someone can’t be there for you, don’t blame yourself. But look for others who can be present even when you are sad or angry.
Seek out a therapist to help you piece together the cancer experience in the context of your life. Is there unresolved prior trauma that has been triggered and now needs healing as well? Do you need help sorting through complex relationships?
If you can’t stop crying or raging, and I mean 24/7, not just allowing the tears to flow, or if you are not sleeping at all, PLEASE see a therapist or doctor. There is much support to be gained.
Look for community where you can show up exactly as you are in this moment, transformed. Both the same and different from how you were before cancer.
Get bodywork – massage, acupuncture, physical therapy, yoga. Your experience has been stored in your body and will benefit from gentle care.

It’s messy to thaw out and more than a little painful. But to gain vitality and wellness, the thaw is essential. Grief and anger must be felt, not stuffed inside or disowned, only to leak out or keep you numb. And you must be supported in this process-don’t isolate.

Deeper emotional healing, truer relationships, and re-connecting with the pulse of your life is on the other side.

Over the next 6 months, I’m going to focus on the Role of Emotions in Healing. I hope you will join the conversation by leaving me a comment on the website about your experience with the thaw and questions about feelings and cancer and how they relate.