Every night when H is done reading I hear the book hit the floor with a thud, the snap of her bedside light switching off, then she calls to me, "Goodnight, Mommy; I love you!" I reply, "I love you, H; goodnight!" because palindromes amuse me.
---
Last month I looked up something I wrote about Handel's Messiah because I wanted to share it with the music director who orchestrated (heh) the whole thing. She's being treated for cancer that's come back and metastasized and could use all cheerful distraction and reminiscing she can get.
Tonight I was reading through the fat binder full of pages I wrote while in college, mostly, and ran across a few things about my then 8 yr old cousin that I texted to that cousin who is now in his 20s.
---
If I like reading back over things I've written then I should write.
Showing posts with label Thoughts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Thoughts. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 14, 2018
Friday, February 23, 2018
heartfelt
"I feel unappreciated and invisible. It was a terrible day!"
She burst into tears and collapsed onto the floor of her room.
I sunk down to my knees beside her and began rubbing her back. "I'm sorry, sweetie."
It hadn't been a great day for me either.
"I love you and appreciate you so much. I'm sorry for not showing it today."
I invited her to lay with me, there on the floor. She cried as I continued rubbing her back until her breaths returned to normal. She lay quietly, head on my arm.
I thought about her toddler days and younger, when just my presence was enough to fix all her problems. It's more complicated than that now. In fact, my presence sometimes creates additional problems.
Tonight our hearts met again, after being separated by the day's stress. When we each bring our fully-present presence I think the problems go away, even for just a little bit.
To know and be known is a lovely reality.
She burst into tears and collapsed onto the floor of her room.
I sunk down to my knees beside her and began rubbing her back. "I'm sorry, sweetie."
It hadn't been a great day for me either.
"I love you and appreciate you so much. I'm sorry for not showing it today."
I invited her to lay with me, there on the floor. She cried as I continued rubbing her back until her breaths returned to normal. She lay quietly, head on my arm.
I thought about her toddler days and younger, when just my presence was enough to fix all her problems. It's more complicated than that now. In fact, my presence sometimes creates additional problems.
Tonight our hearts met again, after being separated by the day's stress. When we each bring our fully-present presence I think the problems go away, even for just a little bit.
To know and be known is a lovely reality.
Tuesday, October 24, 2017
Motivation
Last night I attended a parent meeting at school.
I love our charter school for many reasons, not the least of which is whenever there is an event/potluck, they ask that everyone bring their own plates, utensils and cups in order to reduce trash. I love this. I also wish I brought a larger dish to eat from, as the food was excellent.
The meeting was more of a discussion, facilitated by the school counselor. The topic was motivation. What motivates your child? What works well with various learning styles? How can we help set the atmosphere and expectations? Parents of children of all ages attended and it was great to be able to listen, discuss, commiserate and celebrate together.
Today, as I put off (again!) something that needs to get done it occurred to me to ask myself, "what motivates you?" The answer was obvious and immediate. For most of my life my motivators have been fear, shame and guilt. This doesn't feel good. It never has. I realize I procrastinate until the "shoulds" kick in and then I miserably drag myself to complete the task, fully expecting to be criticized or corrected. My inner voice is mean and harsh and tells me I deserve it because it's all my fault for not starting sooner, not doing my best, not spending my time differently, etc., etc..
I developed procrastination as a response to my uncomfortableness at not being perfect. That way I had an excuse. "Well, of course it's not perfect, I waited until the night before!" Procrastination also fed the motivators of fear, shame and guilt. I would wait until one (or all) of those feelings kicked in and would act only when I couldn't stand the heaping pile of misery that was accumulating.
I wonder what it would feel like to be motivated differently? Until today, I haven't recognized my own participation (via procrastination and mean self-talk) in the fear/shame/guilt cycle.
---> put off responsibilities
---> accumulate fear of consequences of being late or irresponsible, guilt at not being "good"
and starting sooner, shame at being "bad"
---> keep putting it off until I can't any longer
---> hurry to do the work at the cost of other responsibilities
---> finish the work (mostly) but feel terribly about it
---> criticize myself, berate myself for not starting sooner, not doing "my best"
---> fear/shame/guilt cycle continues
This applies to me for everything from cleaning my toilets to doing work that I like and signed up for! Now that I'm aware I am free to choose differently! I can speak kindly to myself, with encouragement.
As I've healed and gradually become more whole through counseling, therapy, medication, codependents anonymous, and lots of self-care I've experienced a little of what it's like to be motivated by love and relationship and the sheer joy of doing something I love for the sake of the pleasure it brings me!
It feels so much better.
I love our charter school for many reasons, not the least of which is whenever there is an event/potluck, they ask that everyone bring their own plates, utensils and cups in order to reduce trash. I love this. I also wish I brought a larger dish to eat from, as the food was excellent.
The meeting was more of a discussion, facilitated by the school counselor. The topic was motivation. What motivates your child? What works well with various learning styles? How can we help set the atmosphere and expectations? Parents of children of all ages attended and it was great to be able to listen, discuss, commiserate and celebrate together.
Today, as I put off (again!) something that needs to get done it occurred to me to ask myself, "what motivates you?" The answer was obvious and immediate. For most of my life my motivators have been fear, shame and guilt. This doesn't feel good. It never has. I realize I procrastinate until the "shoulds" kick in and then I miserably drag myself to complete the task, fully expecting to be criticized or corrected. My inner voice is mean and harsh and tells me I deserve it because it's all my fault for not starting sooner, not doing my best, not spending my time differently, etc., etc..
I developed procrastination as a response to my uncomfortableness at not being perfect. That way I had an excuse. "Well, of course it's not perfect, I waited until the night before!" Procrastination also fed the motivators of fear, shame and guilt. I would wait until one (or all) of those feelings kicked in and would act only when I couldn't stand the heaping pile of misery that was accumulating.
I wonder what it would feel like to be motivated differently? Until today, I haven't recognized my own participation (via procrastination and mean self-talk) in the fear/shame/guilt cycle.
---> put off responsibilities
---> accumulate fear of consequences of being late or irresponsible, guilt at not being "good"
and starting sooner, shame at being "bad"
---> keep putting it off until I can't any longer
---> hurry to do the work at the cost of other responsibilities
---> finish the work (mostly) but feel terribly about it
---> criticize myself, berate myself for not starting sooner, not doing "my best"
---> fear/shame/guilt cycle continues
This applies to me for everything from cleaning my toilets to doing work that I like and signed up for! Now that I'm aware I am free to choose differently! I can speak kindly to myself, with encouragement.
As I've healed and gradually become more whole through counseling, therapy, medication, codependents anonymous, and lots of self-care I've experienced a little of what it's like to be motivated by love and relationship and the sheer joy of doing something I love for the sake of the pleasure it brings me!
It feels so much better.
Tuesday, October 17, 2017
Might listen
K took Sputnik to school to share with her class of 9 fifth graders. Sputnik is the larger of our two cats but his meow is precious: high pitched and tiny, as you'd expect from a newborn kitten. He missed his sister and wasn't sure what to think of the car ride in a crate by himself. He let us all know how he felt by his dramatic vocalizations.
K responded quickly and gently, "I hear you, little kitty. I'm listening with all of my might."
May more of us respond this way to the people we encounter every day.
K responded quickly and gently, "I hear you, little kitty. I'm listening with all of my might."
May more of us respond this way to the people we encounter every day.
Friday, December 2, 2016
Time Travel
The pianist strikes the opening chord and words appear on the overhead screen. My breath catches; my heart swells; tears of recognition sting my eyes.
This song is a portal to a place in time past—a place cemented in my mind. The place is unchanging as time pulls me farther and farther away. This is a place where my grandpa plays the piano in a little chapel amidst the pine trees. He plays for the sheer joy of it—all alone except for the audience of his God. Except I’m there too, drawn by the notes rising through the mountain morning air, but he doesn’t see me. Grandpa’s presence, especially Grandpa’s presence at the piano, seems as constant as the stars. It is no trouble at all for me to recall the words to the melodies he plays in his boisterous way. They come as naturally as the names of any of my boisterous family members. Those same family members sing every time we gather no matter the occasion. My past self sneaks in to listen. I am in college and possess all the vitality and curiosity of a young adult unsure of her future and simultaneously excited for it to arrive.
And now it has arrived. I stand among hundreds of women on a Monday night, in this future. We sing the familiar words and that is all it takes for me to be transported back in time through the portal of an unassuming hymn. Ambushed by the music, I’m powerless to stop the tears as they well up and roll down my face. Here I am, standing next to my daughter in this good future, marveling at the path I took to get here and grateful for the blessings generously strewn along the way. I look back on my past self with wistful tenderness. I ask her to hug Grandpa, to sit a minute longer in the back of that little chapel, receiving that timeless truth sent ahead to me by the song’s author and strengthened by those who entrusted it to me by repeating it often enough that I can sing it entirely from memory.
I carry the song forward into the future again. I look down at the blonde head of my daughter as she sings. I wonder, will it one day transport her as it did me?
I can’t read the future but I can sing the song and hope.
I know not why God’s wondrous grace to me he hath made known, nor why, unworthy, Christ in love, redeemed me for His own. But I know Whom I have believed, and am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I’ve committed unto Him against that day.
Saturday, December 28, 2013
Regenerate
It's times like these I'm suddenly struck with the urge to make an Insta-book out of my 2013 instragram pictures.
Half the house is in boxes and the other half is disheveled. Tomorrow we pack to go to the mountains for the changing of the years. We'll get the keys to our new (rental) house on Friday!
It has occurred to me that this past year has been very probably the best, most comfortable year for me in my role as "stay at home" mom. Is it a coincidence that it also is the year both kids have been at school and/or preschool most days of the week? I think not.
Caring for (very) small children does not appear to be in my naturally-acquired skill set. Both times I've done it rather poorly and have fallen apart rather spectacularly. While it's true that there were many other rather large stressors at those times in my life, I highly doubt that even if I were to have the most ideal circumstances surrounding another pregnancy and birth that it would be possible without medication.
Which makes me sad. However, I don't want to put myself or my family through anything like my postpartum experiences again.
I'm not on medication now and I (usually) feel just fine! This makes me hopeful and wistful and I've briefly entertained the thought of another child.
---
A few months ago I was shopping at our local grocery store. A lady joined me by the spinach. Her tiny infant son was in a car-seat she had placed in the shopping cart and he began to fuss. She began gently rocking the seat but he didn't settle down. Instead he began screaming that ever-so-distinctive newborn cry.
My reaction surprised even me. I wasn't expecting to feel anything as strongly as I did. I almost had to leave the store. An avalanche of feelings suddenly dumped into my awareness, triggered by that crying. My heart was racing; I felt panicky and fearful, desperate and frantic, helpless and terrified.
Sanity was a difficult thing to maintain during those first few months of a screaming Elaine and a wide-eyed, sensitive Val. Our home had been and was still endlessly under construction and chaotic and I wasn't sure whether we'd be able to short sell it or have to go into foreclosure. Superman was on the break-in phase at his new job and largely unavailable in every way. I could barely function and then I couldn't function.
It was very hard.
All of it came rushing back as I stood there by the produce, listening to this newborn do what lots of newborns do - cry.
I quickly got the remaining items on my list and then hurried to the car. I closed the door and began to cry, too.
---
At dinner tonight Val said she wishes she could have a little brother. I told her I wish that too. I know God hears us. I want to hear Him. Little brothers can come in more ways than one.
Monday, October 28, 2013
Once more, with feeling!
You know what's really hard for me? Availability. Especially emotional availability.
It's a struggle for me to remain in the present moment and be available to others in it.
I'm unsettled by my inability to settle. My mind is always ahead, off to the next thing, the next event or conversation (or maybe still on the last one.) Sometimes the next thing is only playing a game on my phone or sometimes my mind is just plain not there. Is it self-centered of me? Self-focused? A sign I haven't cared for my introverted self completely enough? Is it merely a habit? Something I'm accustomed to? Copying what I've experienced and am familiar with?
I'm uneasy if I perceive myself to be TOO present. I fear not being in control and the vulnerability that comes with letting whatever comes in the moment, come. I've got other moments to plan for and other situations to prepare to control. The "other shoe" will drop, dontcha know, and any time I spend enjoying the moment will be foolish, when I could be bracing/planning/protecting myself for the impending doom of that dang shoe.
You know how Elaine lives? In the moment. Her days are full and complete and wondrous. She is there, really THERE, for everything. I'm enthralled by it and a little envious.
But it's safer for her, I tell myself, she's not an adult yet. She doesn't have all this stuff to stay on top of and prioritize and keep track of. Oh to be a child...
...right? Because grown-ups can't be free and delighted by the good moments and sorrowful during the sad, right? Grown-ups have to be steeled and protected with their guards up, right? A child-like adult doesn't seem like something to be desired, right?
I guess it makes sense, a little bit, but certainly not all the time.
I'm so uncomfortable with so many of my feelings. Present moments can be so scary with the feelings. I sometimes get the sense that certain feelings are hiding throughout my day, waiting to accost and overwhelm me... and that I won't have any control.
So I watch Elaine and I learn. It's a gift to me.
It's a struggle for me to remain in the present moment and be available to others in it.
I'm unsettled by my inability to settle. My mind is always ahead, off to the next thing, the next event or conversation (or maybe still on the last one.) Sometimes the next thing is only playing a game on my phone or sometimes my mind is just plain not there. Is it self-centered of me? Self-focused? A sign I haven't cared for my introverted self completely enough? Is it merely a habit? Something I'm accustomed to? Copying what I've experienced and am familiar with?
I'm uneasy if I perceive myself to be TOO present. I fear not being in control and the vulnerability that comes with letting whatever comes in the moment, come. I've got other moments to plan for and other situations to prepare to control. The "other shoe" will drop, dontcha know, and any time I spend enjoying the moment will be foolish, when I could be bracing/planning/protecting myself for the impending doom of that dang shoe.
You know how Elaine lives? In the moment. Her days are full and complete and wondrous. She is there, really THERE, for everything. I'm enthralled by it and a little envious.
But it's safer for her, I tell myself, she's not an adult yet. She doesn't have all this stuff to stay on top of and prioritize and keep track of. Oh to be a child...
...right? Because grown-ups can't be free and delighted by the good moments and sorrowful during the sad, right? Grown-ups have to be steeled and protected with their guards up, right? A child-like adult doesn't seem like something to be desired, right?
I guess it makes sense, a little bit, but certainly not all the time.
I'm so uncomfortable with so many of my feelings. Present moments can be so scary with the feelings. I sometimes get the sense that certain feelings are hiding throughout my day, waiting to accost and overwhelm me... and that I won't have any control.
So I watch Elaine and I learn. It's a gift to me.
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Scenarios
Last night I saw the moon rise and it was stunning. Giant, golden, gorgeous and low on the horizon against a dark blue sky. In that first moment I want to call up everyone I know who might care, "You guys! The MOON! Go look RIGHT NOW!" But I don't because who does that (well, me, but only if it's really REALLY picturesque.) After I mentally run through the list of anyone who may be in a position to stop what they're doing and gaze at the moon, I wish for a camera and a hill and no city lights and while I'm at it some really great trees to silhouette1 against it, etc., etc.. Instead, I kept driving, craning my neck for another glance whenever I could.
---
This morning I saw the moon set. It startled me even more awake than I already wasn't - giant, pearly and glowing against a soft blue sky. I took a horrible picture with my horrible phone2 from myhorrible kitchen window. Then I called for everyone in the house to come see. (The moon, not my picture.) But here, you can see the picture, since you probably missed it this morning. It's three trillion times better in person, I assure you.
My bad, this is not from the kitchen window. This is taken from the window above the piano keyboard.
---
I'm reading Bryson's Dictionary of Troublesome Words and as a result am becoming even more acutely aware that I majored in biology and not journalism. Boy do editors have a lot to remember. I enjoy writing and words as a means to an end, which is the expression of ideas. I'm not so terribly concerned about grammar and spelling as long as the person I'm communicating with (a lot of the time the person is only me) can readily understand the idea/meaning/concept. I've gotten much sloppier in my old age and as the amount of reading I'm doing has decreased. Also, my ideas are less clear and more muddy in my brain. This may be due to children stealing my brain cells or lack of practice or both.
---
Sometimes I feel like the avocado seeds I'm trying to grow. For almost four weeks they've sat in cups of water on my window sill, each one suspended by three toothpicks. I top off the water and wait expectantly. "Any day now!" I think optimistically as I inspect the almost-completely-unchanged seed. It looks a little grungier - sort of bruised and cracked in spots. Certainly not capable of pushing life out of it.
But I have hope because I have seen it happen before.
Sometimes I feel like I go through periods of enormous internal growth but nothing becomes visible externally for quite a while. I know I've changed. I FEEL changed. But I don't LOOK changed to other people. I wish I could force it. I wish I could burst forth into a glorious fruit-producing tree overnight and people would oooh and aaah and come sit in my shade and want to know my secret3. I wish that just seeing where I want to be was enough to get me there. I wish that the process wouldn't take so long or require so much, sometimes. I wish to jump ahead and enjoy the fruits without very much labor.
I wish I had a more mature perspective.
Proverbs has a verse about this: "There is profit in all hard work, but endless talk leads only to poverty."
Right. Thanks, Proverbs. I think I'd rather listen to Leviticus on this one: "You must not do any work at all! This is a permanent law for you, and it must be observed from generation to generation wherever you live." (Isn't that the most lovely Bible verse you've ever seen? [Talk about picking and choosing parts of the Bible to fit personal tastes!])
Then there's the verse I love to hate in Galatians: "So let’s not get tired of doing what is good. At just the right time we will reap a harvest of blessing if we don’t give up."
I have actually quoted this verse to a Christian counselor along with the somewhat martyr-like, self-centered exclamation, "I am SO tired of doing good. I'm just DONE! How much longer do I have to do good? Can I stop yet? I mean seriously. Where's my harvest of blessing?!" I can't remember the reply I got that day but today I remind myself that inner change is change and it is a blessing. Harvests don't have to be external to count. I have a MUCH better relationship with myself today than I did five months ago. Eventually, at just the right time, others will experience a much better relationship with me, too. I really hope it's sooner than later but for now I'm content to work on what I know I need to do and trust that the process will lead to healing and whole relationships outside of me as well.
I have hope because I have seen it happen before.
---
1I just spelled that correctly the first time for what I believe may be the first time in my entire life.
2But don't you fear! I'll be getting an iPhone 5 tomorrow!
3The secret is... there isn't one!
---
This morning I saw the moon set. It startled me even more awake than I already wasn't - giant, pearly and glowing against a soft blue sky. I took a horrible picture with my horrible phone2 from my
My bad, this is not from the kitchen window. This is taken from the window above the piano keyboard.
---
I'm reading Bryson's Dictionary of Troublesome Words and as a result am becoming even more acutely aware that I majored in biology and not journalism. Boy do editors have a lot to remember. I enjoy writing and words as a means to an end, which is the expression of ideas. I'm not so terribly concerned about grammar and spelling as long as the person I'm communicating with (a lot of the time the person is only me) can readily understand the idea/meaning/concept. I've gotten much sloppier in my old age and as the amount of reading I'm doing has decreased. Also, my ideas are less clear and more muddy in my brain. This may be due to children stealing my brain cells or lack of practice or both.
---
Sometimes I feel like the avocado seeds I'm trying to grow. For almost four weeks they've sat in cups of water on my window sill, each one suspended by three toothpicks. I top off the water and wait expectantly. "Any day now!" I think optimistically as I inspect the almost-completely-unchanged seed. It looks a little grungier - sort of bruised and cracked in spots. Certainly not capable of pushing life out of it.
But I have hope because I have seen it happen before.
Sometimes I feel like I go through periods of enormous internal growth but nothing becomes visible externally for quite a while. I know I've changed. I FEEL changed. But I don't LOOK changed to other people. I wish I could force it. I wish I could burst forth into a glorious fruit-producing tree overnight and people would oooh and aaah and come sit in my shade and want to know my secret3. I wish that just seeing where I want to be was enough to get me there. I wish that the process wouldn't take so long or require so much, sometimes. I wish to jump ahead and enjoy the fruits without very much labor.
I wish I had a more mature perspective.
Proverbs has a verse about this: "There is profit in all hard work, but endless talk leads only to poverty."
Right. Thanks, Proverbs. I think I'd rather listen to Leviticus on this one: "You must not do any work at all! This is a permanent law for you, and it must be observed from generation to generation wherever you live." (Isn't that the most lovely Bible verse you've ever seen? [Talk about picking and choosing parts of the Bible to fit personal tastes!])
Then there's the verse I love to hate in Galatians: "So let’s not get tired of doing what is good. At just the right time we will reap a harvest of blessing if we don’t give up."
I have actually quoted this verse to a Christian counselor along with the somewhat martyr-like, self-centered exclamation, "I am SO tired of doing good. I'm just DONE! How much longer do I have to do good? Can I stop yet? I mean seriously. Where's my harvest of blessing?!" I can't remember the reply I got that day but today I remind myself that inner change is change and it is a blessing. Harvests don't have to be external to count. I have a MUCH better relationship with myself today than I did five months ago. Eventually, at just the right time, others will experience a much better relationship with me, too. I really hope it's sooner than later but for now I'm content to work on what I know I need to do and trust that the process will lead to healing and whole relationships outside of me as well.
I have hope because I have seen it happen before.
---
1I just spelled that correctly the first time for what I believe may be the first time in my entire life.
2But don't you fear! I'll be getting an iPhone 5 tomorrow!
3The secret is... there isn't one!
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
I (don't) get it.
"I don't get it."
Val says this to me sometimes, in conversation. She's earnestly trying to understand something and I'm just as earnestly trying to explain but sometimes I can't explain adequately and we have to accept that she doesn't get it, for now. And that's okay. Experience and time and growth will teach and make sense out of what doesn't make sense to her now. I trust and know this but it's difficult for her to grasp. She wants to know. And if she wants to, why can't she? I know how she feels.
The last time I remember her saying this to me was as I tried to explain and why and how a heart attack happens.
"I don't get it," she said, "why can't the person know when it happens? How come some people live and some people die?" To her this seems incredibly unjust. To me, too.
I could see her working through the concepts I gave her -- thinking and reasoning... maybe trying to find a way to guarantee heart attack prevention in herself or people she loves. I do that, too, on more levels than just heart attacks.
I explained what I know about human bodies and that a heart attack can happen from a combination of things that can be controlled and sometimes a heart attack can happen because of something outside our control, even when we're doing the best we can. Even when we're doing it "right." Bodies can break. Some bodies are born broken. They aren't always fixed. This is a difficult truth for her to understand. It is for me, too.
She had a hole in her heart when she was born. I forgot to tell her that. She doesn't have it, now, and I am thankful. I was thankful before, too. It seemed nothing at all compared to Trisomy 18, which seemed briefly possible.
Life is a gift however it's handed to us.
But I still don't get it.
I feel like Val, sometimes, when I talk with someone who is more emotionally whole and healthy than I am. My sponsor and other friends in recovery, mostly. Some people go to my church and some go to other churches and some I see at my weekly 12-step group. A completely fascinating bunch of people. (I think maybe I'm easily fascinated by people.)
They answer my fumbling, awkward questions and talk and open their heart and share experiential truth that makes them practically SHINE with peace and love and grace and acceptance. It's what drew me to them in the first place. And I dutifully listen and sometimes take notes but a lot of the time, especially initially, I sat there feeling confused and slightly stupid.
"I don't get it. How come? Why? I don't get it." I felt dull and thick-headed."Can't the person just know when they're going to hurt and prevent it? Why do so many people hurt?"
I want what these strong, grounded, loving people have. I want to be like them. I want to listen and hopefully learn.
They smiled and encouraged and didn't judge and returned my calls and listened to my words and didn't try and fix me and listened reflectively, again and again and again. They continue to answer my questions and not once have made me feel stupid for asking the same thing or for being in the same situation again and again and again. (I've made myself feel stupid.)
I can see my progress, though. Today, this minute, I LIKE myself. I like me, beck, who I am right now. I've stopped judging myself constantly. (!!) I've learned so much about me and I've accepted it and I've taken different actions than I used to. Actions that sometimes lead to... serenity! Now? Well, more than there used to be.
My current struggle has to do with feeling and experiencing a personal connection to a loving Higher Power. I struggle with God. I know a lot but I haven't experienced a lot, personally. I love to listen to people with a strong, healthy connection to God. I love to hear how God works in the lives of people I know and I love to read about God working in the lives of people I don't know.
I'm starting to experience more. I'm starting to make progress and SEE progress. I'm learning to trust. I'm learning to be grateful for a power outside of me, who restores me to sanity and provides all I need.
I still don't get it, a lot of the time. And that's okay. Experience and time and growth will teach and make sense out of what doesn't make sense to me now. If the apostle Paul can learn to be content, I suppose that means it's possible for me, too. In the meantime, I have ample opportunity to practice trust.
Val says this to me sometimes, in conversation. She's earnestly trying to understand something and I'm just as earnestly trying to explain but sometimes I can't explain adequately and we have to accept that she doesn't get it, for now. And that's okay. Experience and time and growth will teach and make sense out of what doesn't make sense to her now. I trust and know this but it's difficult for her to grasp. She wants to know. And if she wants to, why can't she? I know how she feels.
The last time I remember her saying this to me was as I tried to explain and why and how a heart attack happens.
"I don't get it," she said, "why can't the person know when it happens? How come some people live and some people die?" To her this seems incredibly unjust. To me, too.
I could see her working through the concepts I gave her -- thinking and reasoning... maybe trying to find a way to guarantee heart attack prevention in herself or people she loves. I do that, too, on more levels than just heart attacks.
I explained what I know about human bodies and that a heart attack can happen from a combination of things that can be controlled and sometimes a heart attack can happen because of something outside our control, even when we're doing the best we can. Even when we're doing it "right." Bodies can break. Some bodies are born broken. They aren't always fixed. This is a difficult truth for her to understand. It is for me, too.
She had a hole in her heart when she was born. I forgot to tell her that. She doesn't have it, now, and I am thankful. I was thankful before, too. It seemed nothing at all compared to Trisomy 18, which seemed briefly possible.
Life is a gift however it's handed to us.
But I still don't get it.
I feel like Val, sometimes, when I talk with someone who is more emotionally whole and healthy than I am. My sponsor and other friends in recovery, mostly. Some people go to my church and some go to other churches and some I see at my weekly 12-step group. A completely fascinating bunch of people. (I think maybe I'm easily fascinated by people.)
They answer my fumbling, awkward questions and talk and open their heart and share experiential truth that makes them practically SHINE with peace and love and grace and acceptance. It's what drew me to them in the first place. And I dutifully listen and sometimes take notes but a lot of the time, especially initially, I sat there feeling confused and slightly stupid.
"I don't get it. How come? Why? I don't get it." I felt dull and thick-headed."Can't the person just know when they're going to hurt and prevent it? Why do so many people hurt?"
I want what these strong, grounded, loving people have. I want to be like them. I want to listen and hopefully learn.
They smiled and encouraged and didn't judge and returned my calls and listened to my words and didn't try and fix me and listened reflectively, again and again and again. They continue to answer my questions and not once have made me feel stupid for asking the same thing or for being in the same situation again and again and again. (I've made myself feel stupid.)
I can see my progress, though. Today, this minute, I LIKE myself. I like me, beck, who I am right now. I've stopped judging myself constantly. (!!) I've learned so much about me and I've accepted it and I've taken different actions than I used to. Actions that sometimes lead to... serenity! Now? Well, more than there used to be.
My current struggle has to do with feeling and experiencing a personal connection to a loving Higher Power. I struggle with God. I know a lot but I haven't experienced a lot, personally. I love to listen to people with a strong, healthy connection to God. I love to hear how God works in the lives of people I know and I love to read about God working in the lives of people I don't know.
I'm starting to experience more. I'm starting to make progress and SEE progress. I'm learning to trust. I'm learning to be grateful for a power outside of me, who restores me to sanity and provides all I need.
I still don't get it, a lot of the time. And that's okay. Experience and time and growth will teach and make sense out of what doesn't make sense to me now. If the apostle Paul can learn to be content, I suppose that means it's possible for me, too. In the meantime, I have ample opportunity to practice trust.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Keys to joy
88 wonderful (electronic) keys are back in the apartment and I am quite thankful for the return of my parents' keyboard. Judging by the number of spontaneous dance sessions today I think the girls are, too. All that needs to happen for optimal keyboarding is the soldering of one side of my headphones and hopefully that will happen tomorrow, with the help of my dad.
---
I lately feel as though I'm approaching life in much the same way I approached college final exams. I knew they existed and would eventually come to pass, but I tried not to think too much about it and many times spent hours and hours doing just about everything else INSTEAD prepare or study for them. I did manage to acquire a degree in biology with a fairly average GPA (the "just about everything else" often included playing volleyball at the conveniently-located beach.) I'm not sure what that says about a) the difficulty of the exams or b) my intelligence or c) both.
I arrive at the start of each day and for some reason I feel like dragging my feet. I want to put it off. I'm afraid to dive in? Or it's too threatening (!?) to face head on. Or maybe I'll fail? At... something? I'm not sure. I have a hunch it has to do with the fear that I may just maybe might possibly not do something "right." So then I feel hopeless. And do a lot of nothing or whatever is the bare minimum.
It's not really that great of a system. I'm not happy with it. I'm not happy with the resulting effects on my kids and husband. Also me. I miss joy.
Parenting and stay-at-home-momming is intimidating to me. It doesn't really come naturally, at least not all of it. I guess I haven't managed to work out a reasonable set of expectations for myself, yet. Especially expectations that don't hinge (almost entirely) on what my husband thinks I should do or be. Or expectations that result from comparing myself to whichever wonderful friend I have who excels in whatever area I'm mulling over. Or comparing myself to my mom, or his mom, and what she would do. 12-step recovery work has helped in this regard.
I've been slow to warm up to parenting and stay-at-homing. It was hard for me to leave work, where I felt like I was part of a great team that was doing measurable GOOD in the world and I got PAID for my efforts and there were attainable goals and measurable progress and clear expectations. I knew what to do to make and keep people happy! That's almost always never the case here at home. I don't even know what to do to make and keep ME happy (hint: trying to keep other people happy isn't the solution.)
Parenting is kind of muddy and messy and it's pretty much all I do. That and however much of the house I feel like maintaining, which hasn't been very much, lately.
I'd LIKE to believe that "my best is enough" but that's kind of at odds with a belief I've had for decades and have recently been trying to get rid of: "you're not done until it's perfect" (how's that one for endlessly depressing?!)
But, through all the muddy and messy parts of parenting and stay-at-home-momming, I'm pretty sure I've come quite a long way in learning more about myself and others and the experience has made me a slightly more well-rounded person. So I guess I'm thankful for that.
But I really wish I could shake this hopeless feeling. The endless, repetitive cycle of chores that are NEVER done, doing them over and over and over again, and even if something is temporarily "done" then I'm probably forgetting something else... it really wears me down.
My best is enough. My best is enough. My best is enough. My best is enough.
---
I lately feel as though I'm approaching life in much the same way I approached college final exams. I knew they existed and would eventually come to pass, but I tried not to think too much about it and many times spent hours and hours doing just about everything else INSTEAD prepare or study for them. I did manage to acquire a degree in biology with a fairly average GPA (the "just about everything else" often included playing volleyball at the conveniently-located beach.) I'm not sure what that says about a) the difficulty of the exams or b) my intelligence or c) both.
I arrive at the start of each day and for some reason I feel like dragging my feet. I want to put it off. I'm afraid to dive in? Or it's too threatening (!?) to face head on. Or maybe I'll fail? At... something? I'm not sure. I have a hunch it has to do with the fear that I may just maybe might possibly not do something "right." So then I feel hopeless. And do a lot of nothing or whatever is the bare minimum.
It's not really that great of a system. I'm not happy with it. I'm not happy with the resulting effects on my kids and husband. Also me. I miss joy.
Parenting and stay-at-home-momming is intimidating to me. It doesn't really come naturally, at least not all of it. I guess I haven't managed to work out a reasonable set of expectations for myself, yet. Especially expectations that don't hinge (almost entirely) on what my husband thinks I should do or be. Or expectations that result from comparing myself to whichever wonderful friend I have who excels in whatever area I'm mulling over. Or comparing myself to my mom, or his mom, and what she would do. 12-step recovery work has helped in this regard.
I've been slow to warm up to parenting and stay-at-homing. It was hard for me to leave work, where I felt like I was part of a great team that was doing measurable GOOD in the world and I got PAID for my efforts and there were attainable goals and measurable progress and clear expectations. I knew what to do to make and keep people happy! That's almost always never the case here at home. I don't even know what to do to make and keep ME happy (hint: trying to keep other people happy isn't the solution.)
Parenting is kind of muddy and messy and it's pretty much all I do. That and however much of the house I feel like maintaining, which hasn't been very much, lately.
I'd LIKE to believe that "my best is enough" but that's kind of at odds with a belief I've had for decades and have recently been trying to get rid of: "you're not done until it's perfect" (how's that one for endlessly depressing?!)
But, through all the muddy and messy parts of parenting and stay-at-home-momming, I'm pretty sure I've come quite a long way in learning more about myself and others and the experience has made me a slightly more well-rounded person. So I guess I'm thankful for that.
But I really wish I could shake this hopeless feeling. The endless, repetitive cycle of chores that are NEVER done, doing them over and over and over again, and even if something is temporarily "done" then I'm probably forgetting something else... it really wears me down.
My best is enough. My best is enough. My best is enough. My best is enough.
Sunday, November 4, 2012
Na(Jo)WriMo
It's NaNoWriMo time!
I do not have any desire to write fiction. I can think of two fiction stories... heh. As I sit and think, I keep remembering more. Okay. I have definitely written at least three fiction stories and all of them were written before I was 13 or 14.
I do have a very strong desire to write non-fiction and so that's what I'm doing this month. The "Jo" in this title stands for "journal" which is what I'm doing to achieve the goal of 50,000 words. So far I've reached the daily word count effortlessly.
I don't have very many other goals for the writing I'm doing. I've written about events in my day and the thoughts and feelings that came up as a result. I've written about relationships and parenting and random snippets of true-story material gleaned from observations and interactions with people.
It's all completely uncensored and with no over-arching goal or message that I'm driving at. I'm just writing. I show up for my life each day and write what I notice. I think it'll be interesting to look back at the end of the month and see what the themes and/or plot emerges. Assuming I make it to the end of the month.
I do not have any desire to write fiction. I can think of two fiction stories... heh. As I sit and think, I keep remembering more. Okay. I have definitely written at least three fiction stories and all of them were written before I was 13 or 14.
I do have a very strong desire to write non-fiction and so that's what I'm doing this month. The "Jo" in this title stands for "journal" which is what I'm doing to achieve the goal of 50,000 words. So far I've reached the daily word count effortlessly.
I don't have very many other goals for the writing I'm doing. I've written about events in my day and the thoughts and feelings that came up as a result. I've written about relationships and parenting and random snippets of true-story material gleaned from observations and interactions with people.
It's all completely uncensored and with no over-arching goal or message that I'm driving at. I'm just writing. I show up for my life each day and write what I notice. I think it'll be interesting to look back at the end of the month and see what the themes and/or plot emerges. Assuming I make it to the end of the month.
Monday, October 29, 2012
Step three
I have been irritable and lethargic all day. Tough day to practice self-care where self-care does not equal isolation and/or escape.
I read a little out of this book and found the following paragraph on page 53:
Progress not perfection, as they say. I currently am stuck with the feeling that any and all choices I may pick regarding anything will invariably turn out to be the "wrong" one, somehow, and so why even bother? I'm not going to get it "right" so I'll just, I don't know, do nothing and sink further into hopelessness and despair? Because that's logical?!
I absolutely love this thought:
I read a little out of this book and found the following paragraph on page 53:
When I first began recovering, I feared it was a brainwashing of sorts. Now I see that my life before recovery contained the brainwashing. This program has set me free.Of course, my cynical much-yet-un-recovered self thinks that that is JUST the sort of thing a brainwashed person would say. Also of course, I can't exactly say that my life before recovery was anything like "free."
Progress not perfection, as they say. I currently am stuck with the feeling that any and all choices I may pick regarding anything will invariably turn out to be the "wrong" one, somehow, and so why even bother? I'm not going to get it "right" so I'll just, I don't know, do nothing and sink further into hopelessness and despair? Because that's logical?!
I absolutely love this thought:
"Patience means caring for myself and taking baby steps while I wait for something that is likely to happen. Procrastination means abandoning myself and doing nothing while I wait for something external that is unlikely to happen. Patience waits with courage, and takes the smallest baby steps, over and over. Procrastination waits in fear, paralysis, and inertia. Patience waits with belief in my effort. Procrastination waits for an effort by someone else."Patience in recovery! How crucial.
- Susan from the FlyLady emails
Friday, October 26, 2012
Just N case
The Myers-Briggs Type Inventory describes the difference between sensing (S) and intuitive (N) types here. Briefly, S types are prone to pay closer attention to what is physically happening around them. N types are much less prone to pay attention to what is literally happening around them and focus their energy on ideas, concepts and possibilities instead.
I'd be willing to bet five whole dollars that my great-grandfather was the intuitive type. Here is the evidence on which I base my assertion. My mother's mother tells a story in which her father (uncharacteristically) ran a red light. He was then promptly pulled over and issued a citation. The officer said something to the effect of, "what happened?" and my great-grandfather replied thoughtfully, "well... I was just thinking about Moses..." It became a great family joke.
I have not run a red light in such a manner. I have, however, waited for a stop sign to turn green, turned on the wrong street, taken the wrong off-ramp, driven miles past my turn or exit and most recently and horrifyingly blew right through a stop sign in. a. school. zone. It was a three-way stop and thank GOD there were no children present. There weren't any cars, either, and were it not for a lady walking within view of the intersection who expressively threw up her arms and gave me a look that said, "WTF are you thinking?" as I passed, I might never have realized. I noticed her, furrowed my brow in thought, considered possible reasons for her actions, looked around to see if she was communicating with anyone else, and OMG THAT WAS A STOP SIGN AND I DIDN'T EVEN SLOW DOWN.
I was absolutely appalled at myself and more than a little nauseous at what might have happened if circumstances were different. Completely horrifying.
It's one thing to drive while distracted by a phone or iPod or the food in your lap or while reaching for something behind the passenger seat. Those things are fairly easy to self-regulate. But to be distracted by your very own brain?! How can I escape that? It often takes quite a bit of conscious effort (or small children) for me to actively remain in the present moment. And when I am, I'm often immediately bored and my mind wanders off to find something more entertaining to ponder. I go on auto-pilot and though I may look "there" I might not be. I'm almost always thinking about completely unrelated things in addition to whatever thing or task currently has some of my attention and focus. My strongly S-type husband is frequently baffled by my honest replies to his, "what are you thinking about?" He can't understand how or why I'd be thinking about _____ or what would cause me to remember _____. I shrug. I don't know either. It's just what I do.
Except I've got to find a way that ensures I will NOT do it as much while driving. Suggestions?
I'd be willing to bet five whole dollars that my great-grandfather was the intuitive type. Here is the evidence on which I base my assertion. My mother's mother tells a story in which her father (uncharacteristically) ran a red light. He was then promptly pulled over and issued a citation. The officer said something to the effect of, "what happened?" and my great-grandfather replied thoughtfully, "well... I was just thinking about Moses..." It became a great family joke.
I have not run a red light in such a manner. I have, however, waited for a stop sign to turn green, turned on the wrong street, taken the wrong off-ramp, driven miles past my turn or exit and most recently and horrifyingly blew right through a stop sign in. a. school. zone. It was a three-way stop and thank GOD there were no children present. There weren't any cars, either, and were it not for a lady walking within view of the intersection who expressively threw up her arms and gave me a look that said, "WTF are you thinking?" as I passed, I might never have realized. I noticed her, furrowed my brow in thought, considered possible reasons for her actions, looked around to see if she was communicating with anyone else, and OMG THAT WAS A STOP SIGN AND I DIDN'T EVEN SLOW DOWN.
I was absolutely appalled at myself and more than a little nauseous at what might have happened if circumstances were different. Completely horrifying.
It's one thing to drive while distracted by a phone or iPod or the food in your lap or while reaching for something behind the passenger seat. Those things are fairly easy to self-regulate. But to be distracted by your very own brain?! How can I escape that? It often takes quite a bit of conscious effort (or small children) for me to actively remain in the present moment. And when I am, I'm often immediately bored and my mind wanders off to find something more entertaining to ponder. I go on auto-pilot and though I may look "there" I might not be. I'm almost always thinking about completely unrelated things in addition to whatever thing or task currently has some of my attention and focus. My strongly S-type husband is frequently baffled by my honest replies to his, "what are you thinking about?" He can't understand how or why I'd be thinking about _____ or what would cause me to remember _____. I shrug. I don't know either. It's just what I do.
Except I've got to find a way that ensures I will NOT do it as much while driving. Suggestions?
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Bruxism
I went to the dentist on Tuesday and learned that jaw clenching (by itself, some people grind their teeth as well) is a thing. I don't grind my teeth but it's very probable that I clench my teeth tightly while I sleep. A few teeth seem to be unreasonably sensitive and there are no cavities. My jaw has clicked for as long as I can remember (which I think can be caused or worsened by braces) and sometimes is stiff.
Apparently if this goes on long enough it can result in CRACKED MOLARS. The receptionist at the dental office explained that she's cracked four molars due to clenching her teeth while she sleeps. Four! Four teeth cracked by the force of one's own jaw muscle!
They recommended wearing a custom mouth guard at night which I am quite willing to do. (Cracked! Molars!)
---
It has been brought to my attention that talking quickly does not make a person appear credible. This is rather unfortunate but I'm glad to have the knowledge. Most people I speak with probably don't doubt my credibility, but this is good information to have and apply to interactions with anyone. I gleaned this tip from a intriguing book I'm reading: It's Not All About "Me": Ten Techniques For Building Quick Rapport With Anyone. The author was the lead trainer for social engineering and interpersonal skills in the FBI. This is the first book I've read that comes with a warning, which is as follows: Warning - the content in this book is so effective that we warn the reader to think carefully how it is used. We do not endorse or condone the use of these skills in malicious ways.
It's a very, very interesting book. I've been putting myself opposite him in each of the examples he gives of interaction with strangers and I think I'd do pretty well in keeping personal information that I don't wish to share to myself. (I actually have two specific responses ready to go if someone ever asks me information I'm uncomfortable sharing.) I've also found that some of the things he mentions are things that I do already when building or strengthening a relationship that's important to me. So that's cool.
When interacting with new acquaintances or strangers, though, now I know to consciously make an effort to slow down my rate of speech if I want to be influential.
---
Before today I did not know that "Methuselah" means "when he dies; it will come." What will come? Why, the flood, of course. Methuselah's father, Enoch had a close relationship with God and prophesied God's judgement of the world (according to Jude 1:14-15.) I like knowing what names mean and this was a new one for me.
---
Crap writing is crap. I want to write more so that there may be less crap to wade through, over time.
Apparently if this goes on long enough it can result in CRACKED MOLARS. The receptionist at the dental office explained that she's cracked four molars due to clenching her teeth while she sleeps. Four! Four teeth cracked by the force of one's own jaw muscle!
They recommended wearing a custom mouth guard at night which I am quite willing to do. (Cracked! Molars!)
---
It has been brought to my attention that talking quickly does not make a person appear credible. This is rather unfortunate but I'm glad to have the knowledge. Most people I speak with probably don't doubt my credibility, but this is good information to have and apply to interactions with anyone. I gleaned this tip from a intriguing book I'm reading: It's Not All About "Me": Ten Techniques For Building Quick Rapport With Anyone. The author was the lead trainer for social engineering and interpersonal skills in the FBI. This is the first book I've read that comes with a warning, which is as follows: Warning - the content in this book is so effective that we warn the reader to think carefully how it is used. We do not endorse or condone the use of these skills in malicious ways.
It's a very, very interesting book. I've been putting myself opposite him in each of the examples he gives of interaction with strangers and I think I'd do pretty well in keeping personal information that I don't wish to share to myself. (I actually have two specific responses ready to go if someone ever asks me information I'm uncomfortable sharing.) I've also found that some of the things he mentions are things that I do already when building or strengthening a relationship that's important to me. So that's cool.
When interacting with new acquaintances or strangers, though, now I know to consciously make an effort to slow down my rate of speech if I want to be influential.
---
Before today I did not know that "Methuselah" means "when he dies; it will come." What will come? Why, the flood, of course. Methuselah's father, Enoch had a close relationship with God and prophesied God's judgement of the world (according to Jude 1:14-15.) I like knowing what names mean and this was a new one for me.
---
Crap writing is crap. I want to write more so that there may be less crap to wade through, over time.
Friday, October 5, 2012
Life and death
I started writing this on Friday and have come back to it a few times since then. It's likely written more for me than to anyone else.
---
Today has been excruciatingly difficult for me, emotionally. My codependency, this "disease" as some people call it, results in me neglecting myself on every level - physical, emotional, spiritual. On difficult days this is something I'm increasingly aware of. This habit is not healthy and it is very, very, very familiar. Neglecting myself doesn't work for me or anyone, ultimately, and so I am intentionally doing what I can to take care of myself instead. It's a slow-going process.
I sometimes wish there was a way to feel awful, sucky feelings without it sucking so awfully much. I hate feeling awful, sucky feelings. I've tried not to be human and not to have human needs or feelings for a long time.
---
On page 207 of "Codependents' Guide To The Twelve Steps" by Melody Beattie, Bill Wilson (the original writer of the steps) is quoted as saying, "...but obviously you can't transmit something you haven't got."
Obviously! And it IS obvious but I forget. I sometimes think I can just parent carefully enough and then my children will end up emotionally mature, somehow. Or that they can be at peace and secure in who they are. Or that they will have good and balanced boundaries and develop healthy patterns of self-care.
Quite simply, I canNOT transmit something I haven't got! There's so much I want to transmit to my children (and to others) and the way I get it is through looking at my own issues and recovering myself. Only after I do that am I really going to be any true help to someone who struggles similarly. I've heard it likened to putting your own oxygen mask on before helping anyone else get theirs secured.
---
One of the best parts of recovery, for me, is the process of strengthening my relationship with God. It's been tough going, sometimes. I've had many misconceptions about God and I'm happy to report that God isn't the slightest bit insecure about my misconceptions of him. He just goes on being who He is and I'm slowly beginning to trust Him to be who He is.
I've read the entire Bible at least once, possibly more than once, and certain parts of it hundreds and hundreds of times. (Not so) amazingly, I'm still learning new things!
This year BSF groups are studying Genesis. The second chapter talks about the trees at the center of the garden of evil. Easy. I've known this almost all my life. The tree of life and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Then God tells Adam and Eve not to eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil because if they do, they'll die. I never thought about that tree as being a "tree of death" but that's what it is. Tree of life and tree of death. Eat from this one and do not eat from that one. This one (and the others) are good for you but that one isn't. And God told them ahead of time, before anything happened!
So they meet the serpent and eat the fruit from the tree of death. Turns out they didn't die immediately but their choice to believe the serpent and ignore God's warning resulted in separation from God.
When I read this story as a child, a part of me always thought that God was punishing them or being excessively harsh. Kind of like he jumped up and began throwing curses at them. "You ate from that tree? Well, I'll show YOU. First of all, get out. Now you have to suffer and work harder and eventually you'll die." A lot of space is given to the consequences of Adam and Eve's choice, but he had warned them, beforehand. He knew what was good for them and what wasn't and enjoyed a relationship with them. He told them the truth about that tree of death and then through their choices they experienced the truth about that tree. He loved them; that's why he told them ahead of time what they could trust to be true.
For some reason this was a moderate breakthrough for me.
God tells me the truth, too. He asks me to trust him, too. He does not force his will on me; he invites me to walk in his will because he loves me. The things that happen to me are not punishment for me messing up somehow. Because of Jesus, God is with me all the time because he wants to be and because he loves me.
---
I am so glad that the 12-step program is a spiritual one. I'm not sure it could be as successful if it wasn't.
---
Today has been excruciatingly difficult for me, emotionally. My codependency, this "disease" as some people call it, results in me neglecting myself on every level - physical, emotional, spiritual. On difficult days this is something I'm increasingly aware of. This habit is not healthy and it is very, very, very familiar. Neglecting myself doesn't work for me or anyone, ultimately, and so I am intentionally doing what I can to take care of myself instead. It's a slow-going process.
I sometimes wish there was a way to feel awful, sucky feelings without it sucking so awfully much. I hate feeling awful, sucky feelings. I've tried not to be human and not to have human needs or feelings for a long time.
---
On page 207 of "Codependents' Guide To The Twelve Steps" by Melody Beattie, Bill Wilson (the original writer of the steps) is quoted as saying, "...but obviously you can't transmit something you haven't got."
Obviously! And it IS obvious but I forget. I sometimes think I can just parent carefully enough and then my children will end up emotionally mature, somehow. Or that they can be at peace and secure in who they are. Or that they will have good and balanced boundaries and develop healthy patterns of self-care.
Quite simply, I canNOT transmit something I haven't got! There's so much I want to transmit to my children (and to others) and the way I get it is through looking at my own issues and recovering myself. Only after I do that am I really going to be any true help to someone who struggles similarly. I've heard it likened to putting your own oxygen mask on before helping anyone else get theirs secured.
---
One of the best parts of recovery, for me, is the process of strengthening my relationship with God. It's been tough going, sometimes. I've had many misconceptions about God and I'm happy to report that God isn't the slightest bit insecure about my misconceptions of him. He just goes on being who He is and I'm slowly beginning to trust Him to be who He is.
I've read the entire Bible at least once, possibly more than once, and certain parts of it hundreds and hundreds of times. (Not so) amazingly, I'm still learning new things!
This year BSF groups are studying Genesis. The second chapter talks about the trees at the center of the garden of evil. Easy. I've known this almost all my life. The tree of life and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Then God tells Adam and Eve not to eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil because if they do, they'll die. I never thought about that tree as being a "tree of death" but that's what it is. Tree of life and tree of death. Eat from this one and do not eat from that one. This one (and the others) are good for you but that one isn't. And God told them ahead of time, before anything happened!
So they meet the serpent and eat the fruit from the tree of death. Turns out they didn't die immediately but their choice to believe the serpent and ignore God's warning resulted in separation from God.
When I read this story as a child, a part of me always thought that God was punishing them or being excessively harsh. Kind of like he jumped up and began throwing curses at them. "You ate from that tree? Well, I'll show YOU. First of all, get out. Now you have to suffer and work harder and eventually you'll die." A lot of space is given to the consequences of Adam and Eve's choice, but he had warned them, beforehand. He knew what was good for them and what wasn't and enjoyed a relationship with them. He told them the truth about that tree of death and then through their choices they experienced the truth about that tree. He loved them; that's why he told them ahead of time what they could trust to be true.
For some reason this was a moderate breakthrough for me.
God tells me the truth, too. He asks me to trust him, too. He does not force his will on me; he invites me to walk in his will because he loves me. The things that happen to me are not punishment for me messing up somehow. Because of Jesus, God is with me all the time because he wants to be and because he loves me.
---
I am so glad that the 12-step program is a spiritual one. I'm not sure it could be as successful if it wasn't.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Self care
I've heard from more than once source that September can be a tough month for people who are already prone to mental imbalance. Something about the light. Heather mentions it here.
I think I've been doing pretty well, all things considered. Some things have slipped, but I'm trying to practice radical self-care (as Anne Lamott calls it) and allow myself the grace God's already given.
I don't deal with change particularly well and boy has our schedule changed over the past few weeks. During the summer the only things we did with any regularity were swimming lessons, church and recovery meetings. Now Val goes to kindergarten every weekday morning, Elaine goes to preschool on Tuesdays and Thursday mornings, AWANA is on Sunday evenings (where I am a Sparks secretary), swimming lessons for both girls are on Tuesday afternoon, BSF for Elaine and I on Wednesday mornings, Superman and I are attending a once a month couples class on Monday nights, the other Monday nights I go to a CoDA group, Tuesday nights we go to a church-related small group in someone's home, Wednesday nights Superman goes to a mens group, Thursday nights he leads a junior high boys small group, Friday night we all go to Celebrate Recovery, Saturday night is church and on Sundays I go to a different CoDA group while Superman returns to church for the junior high service. We walk or ride bikes to and from school on Mondays and Fridays and have a preschool carpool on Thursdays. And of course I'm still responsible for staying on top of the laundry and grocery shopping and cleaning and food preparation (school lunches every day!) and showering once in a while.
Sometimes I just need to look back and realize all this change and say, "Oh yeah. Look at all I'm handling and dealing with now that I wasn't just a few weeks ago. I should probably be kinder to myself."
Anyhow, September is almost done and it's felt like a whirlwind. I've needed medication on many days, and was thankful to have it. I look forward to this all feeling normal instead of overwhelming.
It's been just over one year that I've been in Codependents Anonymous and the next time I meet with my sponsor (which should be on Sunday) we'll cover the 12th step. I'm grateful for the progress I've made in my recovery work but I still need to keep the perspective of it being a process, a journey, not something I'll arrive at one day and be done. I keep thinking that's how life works (magically "arriving" and being "done") but it just isn't. I'm getting better and better at embracing this.
I think I've been doing pretty well, all things considered. Some things have slipped, but I'm trying to practice radical self-care (as Anne Lamott calls it) and allow myself the grace God's already given.
I don't deal with change particularly well and boy has our schedule changed over the past few weeks. During the summer the only things we did with any regularity were swimming lessons, church and recovery meetings. Now Val goes to kindergarten every weekday morning, Elaine goes to preschool on Tuesdays and Thursday mornings, AWANA is on Sunday evenings (where I am a Sparks secretary), swimming lessons for both girls are on Tuesday afternoon, BSF for Elaine and I on Wednesday mornings, Superman and I are attending a once a month couples class on Monday nights, the other Monday nights I go to a CoDA group, Tuesday nights we go to a church-related small group in someone's home, Wednesday nights Superman goes to a mens group, Thursday nights he leads a junior high boys small group, Friday night we all go to Celebrate Recovery, Saturday night is church and on Sundays I go to a different CoDA group while Superman returns to church for the junior high service. We walk or ride bikes to and from school on Mondays and Fridays and have a preschool carpool on Thursdays. And of course I'm still responsible for staying on top of the laundry and grocery shopping and cleaning and food preparation (school lunches every day!) and showering once in a while.
Sometimes I just need to look back and realize all this change and say, "Oh yeah. Look at all I'm handling and dealing with now that I wasn't just a few weeks ago. I should probably be kinder to myself."
Anyhow, September is almost done and it's felt like a whirlwind. I've needed medication on many days, and was thankful to have it. I look forward to this all feeling normal instead of overwhelming.
It's been just over one year that I've been in Codependents Anonymous and the next time I meet with my sponsor (which should be on Sunday) we'll cover the 12th step. I'm grateful for the progress I've made in my recovery work but I still need to keep the perspective of it being a process, a journey, not something I'll arrive at one day and be done. I keep thinking that's how life works (magically "arriving" and being "done") but it just isn't. I'm getting better and better at embracing this.
Saturday, August 18, 2012
Change and pain
These are two things I've been thinking about over the past few days. Many people recognize the first part of the serenity prayer but I find it so much more specifically encouraging in it's entirety.
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Living one day at a time, enjoying one moment at a time, accepting hardship as a pathway to peace. Taking, as Jesus did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it: trusting that You will make all things right if I surrender to Your will. So that I may be reasonably happy in this life, and supremely happy with You forever in the next. Amen.
- Reinhold Niebuhr -
This next quote talks about pain and I was reminded of it in relation to asking God for things I want and then freely expressing my emotions and feelings to Him.
If we run from God, if we turn from God in the pain, we forfeit any prospect of finding hope, comfort, or meaning in it. If we run to Him in our desperation and grief we open ourselves up to all the resources of heaven, including the ways this battle can equip us with a compassion, an empathy, a perspective, and a grace that only those who've felt life's deepest wounds can know. We can choose. We can let pain make us a victim, or a wounded healer for a wounded world.
- Ron Hutchcraft -
Friday, August 17, 2012
I shall not want.
Hurriedly written yesterday during Wonder Pets and Pinky Dinky Doo. Not quite how I want it yet, but that fits with the topic. =)
---
"But when will I get what I want?" Elaine asked during a loud, tearful post-nap meltdown. I gently reiterated the available snacks. All of them displeased her. The wails resumed. She wanted a snack, and only the snack SHE wanted.
Boy can I relate. I feel as though I've been asking God that question every day, lately: "but when will I get what I want?"
Today, for example. Today has been a horrible day. Nothing has gone how I wanted (little things, bigger things, biggest things) and many of the things I feel aren't too much to ask. I feel like giving up. I feel like stopping everything altogether because what's the point? Nothing's going how I want. It seems like nothing I do or say matters. I try and try and try... and it still feels as though I'm sliding backwards - losing ground. When do I get what I want?! Shouldn't I, at least SOME of the time?
Elaine continued her lamentations. I sighed. Waking her up from a nap I didn't want her to take was also something I hadn't wanted to do. I opened my arms to her and she willingly settled on my lap, still explaining how much she wished and hoped and wanted to have the forbidden snacks and demonstrating her sorrow at not being able to have them. Just the thought would bring a whole set of fresh tears. Oh the tears and frustration and energy spent when things don't go how we want.
I rubbed her back and pondered the similarities between her current attitude toward me and mine toward God.
She had some options, like I do. She can change her wants, trust, be satisfied with what's available to her, or she can continue to be miserable.
I thought about God, my loving Father, knowing my needs better than I do.
I thought about what I want and what I think I need and how strongly my feelings are wrapped up in that.
Elaine was falling back asleep on my lap. She needed the sleep and (against my wishes!) she needed it now. My presence had calmed her enough to get what she really needed. She needed sleep more than the snack she wanted.
I have an app on my phone that displays the verse of the day. Today's verse is Psalm 84:10, "Better a day in Your courts than a thousand anywhere else. I would rather be at the door of the house of my God than to live in the tents of wicked people."
It reminds me of the last verse of Psalm 73, "But as for me how good it is to be near God! I have made the Sovereign Lord my shelter, and I will tell everyone about the wonderful things you do."
Also Psalm 131, "I don't concern myself with matters too great or awesome for me. But I have stilled and quieted myself, just as a small child is quiet with its mother."
Whether or not my day goes how I want (I did not want the girls to take naps!) or even if I get what I think I need or not (I "needed" a quiet evening, with kids asleep early!) something I always have and always need is God's presence and because of Emmanuel I can always have it.
So tonight, instead of relaxing and listening to podcasts while knitting... I'll be walking to see the ducks at dusk with two happy, rested girls. It's what I want.
---
"But when will I get what I want?" Elaine asked during a loud, tearful post-nap meltdown. I gently reiterated the available snacks. All of them displeased her. The wails resumed. She wanted a snack, and only the snack SHE wanted.
Boy can I relate. I feel as though I've been asking God that question every day, lately: "but when will I get what I want?"
Today, for example. Today has been a horrible day. Nothing has gone how I wanted (little things, bigger things, biggest things) and many of the things I feel aren't too much to ask. I feel like giving up. I feel like stopping everything altogether because what's the point? Nothing's going how I want. It seems like nothing I do or say matters. I try and try and try... and it still feels as though I'm sliding backwards - losing ground. When do I get what I want?! Shouldn't I, at least SOME of the time?
Elaine continued her lamentations. I sighed. Waking her up from a nap I didn't want her to take was also something I hadn't wanted to do. I opened my arms to her and she willingly settled on my lap, still explaining how much she wished and hoped and wanted to have the forbidden snacks and demonstrating her sorrow at not being able to have them. Just the thought would bring a whole set of fresh tears. Oh the tears and frustration and energy spent when things don't go how we want.
I rubbed her back and pondered the similarities between her current attitude toward me and mine toward God.
She had some options, like I do. She can change her wants, trust, be satisfied with what's available to her, or she can continue to be miserable.
I thought about God, my loving Father, knowing my needs better than I do.
I thought about what I want and what I think I need and how strongly my feelings are wrapped up in that.
Elaine was falling back asleep on my lap. She needed the sleep and (against my wishes!) she needed it now. My presence had calmed her enough to get what she really needed. She needed sleep more than the snack she wanted.
I have an app on my phone that displays the verse of the day. Today's verse is Psalm 84:10, "Better a day in Your courts than a thousand anywhere else. I would rather be at the door of the house of my God than to live in the tents of wicked people."
It reminds me of the last verse of Psalm 73, "But as for me how good it is to be near God! I have made the Sovereign Lord my shelter, and I will tell everyone about the wonderful things you do."
Also Psalm 131, "I don't concern myself with matters too great or awesome for me. But I have stilled and quieted myself, just as a small child is quiet with its mother."
Whether or not my day goes how I want (I did not want the girls to take naps!) or even if I get what I think I need or not (I "needed" a quiet evening, with kids asleep early!) something I always have and always need is God's presence and because of Emmanuel I can always have it.
So tonight, instead of relaxing and listening to podcasts while knitting... I'll be walking to see the ducks at dusk with two happy, rested girls. It's what I want.
Friday, July 6, 2012
Well, what do you expect?
Last night I almost got up out of bed two or three times so I could write down phrases and words to describe a concept that's been floating around in my head.
It's still not neat or concise or complete in my head, but here it is. It's something I've realized about me.
The more tightly I grasp at and cling to my expectations of another person, the greater chance I will miss reality and the unique gift of who they really ARE (imperfections and all), instead of who or how I wish them to be. It's easy for me to get tunnel vision and no longer see all the wonderful things about them (or even the un-wonderful, but realistic things); I no longer am present and available to listen and care and offer love and support for where they are. I only see each time they once again fail to be... something that wasn't them, at least not in that particular moment. I'm only looking for who I want them to be, who I expect them to be, who they should be (according to me)... instead of who they are.
I've spent so much time and energy informing Superman of how he should be or think or act or feel. I've thrown so many internal (and external) tantrums when he did NOT behave how I thought he should. I've lined up expectation after unrealistic expectation along with lists of reasons as to why they should be reasonable... and in so doing have become quite miserable - so long as my happiness rests in whether or not he (or anyone) meets my expectations.
I've really been too afraid and insecure to put the focus on me. I'm the only one I really have any control over. It's so humbling, but I've got to start (and stay) with me. A fellow twelve-stepper described recovery work as being "painfully exhilarating."
Yes, it certainly is. And I've become so much happier as a result!
A man of lesser quality would not have put up with me for as long as Superman has. I'm supremely grateful for him. Just the way he is.
It's still not neat or concise or complete in my head, but here it is. It's something I've realized about me.
The more tightly I grasp at and cling to my expectations of another person, the greater chance I will miss reality and the unique gift of who they really ARE (imperfections and all), instead of who or how I wish them to be. It's easy for me to get tunnel vision and no longer see all the wonderful things about them (or even the un-wonderful, but realistic things); I no longer am present and available to listen and care and offer love and support for where they are. I only see each time they once again fail to be... something that wasn't them, at least not in that particular moment. I'm only looking for who I want them to be, who I expect them to be, who they should be (according to me)... instead of who they are.
I've spent so much time and energy informing Superman of how he should be or think or act or feel. I've thrown so many internal (and external) tantrums when he did NOT behave how I thought he should. I've lined up expectation after unrealistic expectation along with lists of reasons as to why they should be reasonable... and in so doing have become quite miserable - so long as my happiness rests in whether or not he (or anyone) meets my expectations.
I've really been too afraid and insecure to put the focus on me. I'm the only one I really have any control over. It's so humbling, but I've got to start (and stay) with me. A fellow twelve-stepper described recovery work as being "painfully exhilarating."
Yes, it certainly is. And I've become so much happier as a result!
A man of lesser quality would not have put up with me for as long as Superman has. I'm supremely grateful for him. Just the way he is.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Words
The other day I complimented someone on his story-telling ability.
Whenever he talks I shut up and listen; he has my full and complete attention. He opens his mouth and the words pour out, weighted and measured and perfectly aligned into achingly beautiful and sometimes gut-wrenchingly raw stories. I may be exaggerating a little, but still... and they're true stories, which happen to be my absolute favorite. The words crack through all the pretending and all the organized outer layers so many of us have. He portrays life as he experiences it which is often far more lovely and beautiful even in it's inevitable suffering than I am brave enough to experience, most of the time. I'm usually far too busy compulsively protecting myself from pain and failing miserably. Emphasis on miserable. (Actually, no! I'm getting better!)
Anyhow. I told him he was a master wordsmith. Well, I might have phrased it more like, "hey, um, you're, like, really good at... words... and stuff."
He grinned humbly and replied, eyes-twinkling, "well I was a lawyer."
I laugh. Of COURSE he was a lawyer.
I ask if he writes. I hope he has books. Or a blog.
He says no. He says he's too afraid to write.
I am stunned.
---
So I resolve to write poorly and despite my own fear and lack of skill and time and patience and knowledge. I do like my own true stories and who else can tell them? Maybe if I tell mine others will feel more comfortable telling theirs.
Whenever he talks I shut up and listen; he has my full and complete attention. He opens his mouth and the words pour out, weighted and measured and perfectly aligned into achingly beautiful and sometimes gut-wrenchingly raw stories. I may be exaggerating a little, but still... and they're true stories, which happen to be my absolute favorite. The words crack through all the pretending and all the organized outer layers so many of us have. He portrays life as he experiences it which is often far more lovely and beautiful even in it's inevitable suffering than I am brave enough to experience, most of the time. I'm usually far too busy compulsively protecting myself from pain and failing miserably. Emphasis on miserable. (Actually, no! I'm getting better!)
Anyhow. I told him he was a master wordsmith. Well, I might have phrased it more like, "hey, um, you're, like, really good at... words... and stuff."
He grinned humbly and replied, eyes-twinkling, "well I was a lawyer."
I laugh. Of COURSE he was a lawyer.
I ask if he writes. I hope he has books. Or a blog.
He says no. He says he's too afraid to write.
I am stunned.
---
So I resolve to write poorly and despite my own fear and lack of skill and time and patience and knowledge. I do like my own true stories and who else can tell them? Maybe if I tell mine others will feel more comfortable telling theirs.
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