How I Keep From Losing My Shit For Good

Sometimes people ask me how I find my Zen, keep out of the mental hospital, don't off myself, manage to not hate everyone, etc. after all the crap I've been through (or rather, put myself through) in my life. So, here's a quick note on that. 

First of all, I allow myself to lose my shit every now and then. I don't feel guilty about it. I don't try to restrain it when it comes. I scream or collapse or spend a couple of days in bed or whatever the situation calls for. It's like cleaning your gutters. I have to unclog now and then so the calm waters can flow the rest of the time. I used to do this more often but I'd say I'm down to doing this once or twice every 6 months. As a caveat, there have been times, even in recent years, that I was dug deep into some (seriously fucked up) situations (that I take non-victim responsibility for) that made me lose my shit quite a bit more often. Escalating shit losing. But the source was usually purposefully attempting to rid me of my shit and was fairly successful. So, point to them for their win.

The rest of the time, I engage compassion and detachment. It took me a long, long, long, LONG time to figure out how much better this works for me than losing my shit or hanging on to shit. Instead, I look at the other person like I would a client and examine why they are the way they are; why they do the things they do. I have to dig really deep sometimes to pull out empathy/sympathy for some people, but I have to all the same. I have to see that person's motive to depersonalize it from me. It's not me, it's them and all that. I have to do that for me. It's more than essential. Because, to be honest, it's never about me, is it? No one walks around and centers their lives or thoughts on how they can personally destroy me because I'm such a terrible human. No, that's insane.
It's not about me. It is, and always has been, and always will be about them. And the best hindsight-turned-wisdom example of this is that most of the people who have done horrible things to me did them to someone else before, during and/or after me. It wasn't/isn't/will never be about me. So compassion is essential. 

Sometimes I go too far in my compassion and want to help them. There's a word for that. It's codependence.  That makes me lose my shit big time. Codependence is an asshole.  That's where the detachment comes in. Ok, I tell myself, this person is a flawed person who was constructed by their own circumstances. And that person is not me. I'm not responsible for that person or their shit.  I'm responsible for my shit. I'm responsible for keeping myself together no matter what might be falling apart over there. Detachment. Depersonalization. It's an art form I intend to perfect some day. I certainly haven't yet. I stumble about sometimes for a while until the rubber band snaps back and stings the shit out of my forehead and I remember what I'm supposed to be doing. But I get better at it all the time. And that's better than most people do, so point for me for that win.

Third, I clean up. I take toxic people out of my life. Usually not soon enough but again; I haven't perfected anything. This also took me a long time to do. I longed for acceptance for so long and so hard that it was difficult to throw anyone out who didn't accept me as I was. In other words, people who were toxic. I've had to lose friends who ended up just making me feel like shit instead of losing my shit; husbands who I had no business marrying in the first place; the gossips and the backstabbers and the users and the abusers; the too pushy and the shady; the sociopaths and the over-whiners. I've had to throw out a lot of those guys.

I don't have any of those friends anymore. Maybe some acquaintances but no one I'd tell any real life, deep down, vulnerable-making shit  too. There's one exception, my family.  I can distance myself but I can't bring myself to rid any toxins in that area. I'm still reeling for their approval, therapy never quite cleaned up that shit.  Tie game.

Fourth through whatever

Write.
Write some more.
Drink too much occasionally and make a fool of myself.
Forgive.
Forgive some more.
Get in water as much as possible.
Embrace some sort of music.
Paint some bad art and let the brushstrokes sooth me.
Hang with an actual friend and unload some shit.
Hot baths.
Long, quiet dives.
Sunshine.
Forgive some more. 

Write some more. 

Go somewhere. Just run away for a while to somewhere, anywhere, really. 

Keep trying. 

Keep learning.

Cry as liberally as I want and feel no shame in it.
Let someone compliment me and really enjoy it.
Talk to the ocean. (Some people call this meditation. Some prayer. Same thing except I require the actual ocean.)

I'm not exactly the Buddha of Texas but again, it's more than most people do. I've never been committed (though I probably should have been a few times) or offed myself. I only can use the word hate toward one human (yeah.. trust me..trying to not hate that one is a losing battle, but my bucket list says I have to forgive him someday, so I'll have to...some day). I can find my Zen more and more often, I have most of my shit together most of the time. So, something is working. Perfectly imperfectly. I'll keep practicing.  Maybe someday I'll never lose my shit at all. Maybe not. Either way, I forgive me.