Comforting, it’s different from a break, a vacation, or a reward. It not about chocolate, massage, or a trashy novel.
Let’s begin with exploring discomfort..
What experiences make me uncomfortable? Certain thoughts, certain emotions, certain activities. There is visceral discomfort – neurochemical variations, aches and pains, hunger, itchiness, temperature, Then there are mood discomforts, degrees of fear, sadness, or anger. Moral discomforts appearing in response to my own ambivalence, oppositional feelings, uncertain righteousness. And the spiritual discomforts when faith flies out from my soul and fades in the distance, the creeping, sinking agony of meaninglessness. Then there is the discomforts of too much to do, not enough to do, and wondering what to do, or how to do, or when to do.
What is self-comforting, self-easing, self-soothing? It’s an activity that seeks to restore equanimity at best. For most of my life self-comforting has been about self-avoiding and self-distracting — the immature forms of self-comforting and the ones that become bad habits and wicked addictions. Mindless.
Mature self-comforts are mindful and self-ful. Mindful with attention and awareness in the moment. Self-ful with things that only I can do because of who I am.
Mature self-comforts are not distractions. You recognize your discomfort and give yourself unconditional permission to attend fully to the restoration of creative comfort, right comfort.
Writing this post is self-comforting. It’s 4AM in the morning. I woke up about an hour ago and spent some time moving between creative thinking, idle thinking, and I’ve-got-to-get-back-to-sleep anxiousness. I was in need of comfort and soothing. Then I got up went to the bathroom and got my laptop. Working soothes me. Being productive stabilizes me, even in the middle of the night. When I work I am very mindful and very full of my best self.
I consider productivity the best and most mature of my self-comforting activities. It may be the only real and truly comforting for my soul. My work matters to and serves others. My self-comforting activity, serves me and serves others, even the future. I find and offer meaning, and the gateway to the making of my meaning, the invitation, the wake-up alarm, has been my discomfort with myself, my dis-ease at being me. I find I need to counter that feeling with doing good.
No matter what is going on, no matter what time day or night, I self-comfort by doing good and being productive.
Oh, I will still distract…surf the web, daydream, eat or drink the not-so-healthy, think critically of certain others, take a long soak in a hot bath, go shopping, even reading Rudolf Steiner who I consider my greatest teacher can be an idealized distraction, and so on. But…thanks to a maturing of my soul, I’ve learned the difference between self-distraction which can weaken my will, and the true self-comforting which strengthens my will and further develops the meaning of my existence.
This understanding of self-comforting crystallizes my Inner Mother Inner Father self-parenting wisdom. In developing the course, asking and feeling all the questions that evolved into the wise compassion provided in the course, I delved into the inner strength nurtured by the maternal archetypes and the outer manifestation encouraged by the paternal archetypes and found the way to a full, integrated adult self.
Do take advantage of the Mother’s Day Father’s Day $100 discount I am offering, purchase the Inner Mother Inner Father course here. https://imagineself.com/imif-2/
Mindfulness is something my Mother did for me to Redirect my disturbed unconsciousness at Night and my Pain and Sensitivities during wakefulness. Often I spontaneously dissociate to escape the unpleasantness of this life and the anxieties and depressions that cross continually between Night and Day or the physical and the spiritual or emotional, and finally, moral Self. I had Bipolar then until now, among other things, and I am continually driven along to mature from the disturbing dissociation and mania from within and the discourteous existence each day that is our common habitat always. I am compelled to engage selfish aggression in the personalities of my own Family and Community daily. Robin Williams the comedic actor stopped breathing today at Home, age 63 years. Although ten years older than I, he resembled my appearance and inner Self closer than any celebrity. His role as Mrs. Doubtfire deeply resembled my own troubled Marriage of 24 years. My grandfather also stopped breathing at the same age when I was four years old. I have only a few clips of him in my Memory. They are all dead now.