Curiosity Gets The Better Of Me

With all this cold weather I haven't been out of the house since last Saturday. To pass the time I've been letting my curiousity get the better of me. I've been downright feeding it. Below are the 20 most recent google searches that brought people to my blog. Little tidbits of info have always intrigued me. Putting those little buttons on my blog that let me track who visits here feeds the anal retentiveness in me - I'll be constipated before long if it doesn't warm up outside. Okay, so that was a lame attempt at a joke - cabin fever must be setting in. The photo is what it looks like standing on my tiptoes looking out my kitchen window - Jack Frost is trying to block my view. The blue winter sky was too beautiful not to capture on camera.

Last 20 Searchengine Queries:

augustine spiritual director
pigeon holed quote
sugar sensitivity
a song not scored for breathing
Henri Nouwen Advent prayer
stages of letting go
pulmonary fibrosis very bad in mornings
gerald may and spiritual direction ppt
gerald may and spiritual direction ppt
breathing incense in church
"AA" and "resentments"
3A
hope who am i to say song
a song not scored for breathing
"poor in spirit" homily teenagers
henri nouwen soften me into love
quotes bad kids
addiction and grace
the funeral prayer of braveheart
song with lots of laughter


I sit here and wonder who some particular visitors are and why they keep coming back. That person from Ingersoll - I see they visit from a government office. I told my sister it must be the government monitoring me because the word sexual addiction surely shows up more than any other phrase on my blog and they are checking to see if I am a danger to society. And the one from the University in Portugal. Who is that and how did they ever come across my blog? Who lives in Aldersley UK that keeps coming back? There are those who visit faithfully every day who I 'know' and their company makes me smile. Thank you Peter, Val and Terry, among others.

Here's one of the elk that ate, without apology, our bale stack. 40 good square hay bales are only a memory now. The elk's comrades took off and left this one to take the blame. I tried posting these late last night but the power kept flickering on and off so I shut everything down and went to sleep. It was a scary thought - the power going out when it's -45C outside. It's supposed to be -48C with windchill by this afternoon. A chinook is waiting behind this weather pattern to bring us up to 0C by Saturday. No wonder they say 'wait 5 minutes and the weather will change.' Well, in this case, 'wait 5 days and the weather will change. Stay warm.

Catholic Carnival 95

This week's Carnival can be found at phatcatholic apologetics. When I got up it was -45C with the windchill outside. The best it's going to get is -40C with windchill. Reading is going to be the extent of my activity for today!

Of Hopeful Butts And Weather

I'd take a picture out my window to show you the scenery but many of the windows in my house have been visited from top to bottom by Jack Frost. Today's temperature hovered around -35C and tomorrow the forecasted high is -38C when you factor in the windchill. What that really means is that to go outside unless necessary is downright foolish. When you live where I do, it makes no sense at all to get in the vehicle and drive anywhere. Vehicle breakdowns could be hazardous to your health when it gets this cold.

Despite the weather I am feeling hopeful tonight. Yesterday ( it was only -25C) I went to my AA home group meeting and was abundantly blessed. The meeting I go to is a newbies meeting and I feel like I fit right in. What a blessing to share one's frailties and have people laugh along with you because they recognize the same thing in themselves. Sharing our humanity instead of trying to divorce ourselves from it then becomes a strength not a weakness. I was able to share some of my story without my ego trying to butt in and make a grandstand appearance. That was a relief. It makes me feel like I am truly making progress. It gives me hope that one day I won't feel like a fraud at meetings. Plus it gives me hope that I can learn what it is to simply be me no matter where I am on the journey. There have been so many meetings where I've listened to someone share and wondered how they could be so comfortable in their own skin sharing what they did. Maybe their ability to do that is rubbing off on me. Whatever is happening I am relieved to find out I am capable of sharing like that too.

Afterwards I went to a wrap up meeting of the retreat team from the previous weekend. Lots of laughter and good sharing. I often feel a tinge of bittersweetness at these wrap up meetings because the retreat team changes from one retreat to the next and saying goodbye to this particular configuration was as hard as all the others. Being involved in this group is my sole opportunity to be in a women's only setting. It nourishes me and I find myself forming trust relationships each time I am involved in the process. There is usually one woman I connect with in a deeper way every retreat and this one was no exception. This past week dearest one and I happened to be at a function along with one of the women from the retreat. He told me afterwards that the women from this whole retreat movement sure seem to love me. It was good to be able to simply say, "yes, they do" instead of "oh, if they only knew me". Many of them do know me and love me still. I am reminded of Brennan Manning's words "It is more important that you let God love you than that you love God." It feels good to let myself be loved by God and others.

I am still struggling with some depression but it has lifted considerably. My doctor wanted to prescribe anti depressants for me this week but I am hoping the Vitamin D I began taking this month will continue to help lift the cloud. Me and prescription meds often don't like each others' company. So much so that I remember my drug allergies by alphabetical order - no kidding. I'm not keen on adding to the list. I wish I knew how to tell what depression needs medication and what doesn't. How much has the laughter of last weekend, the wonderful fellowship, the ongoing attendance at AA meetings contributed to me feeling better? Would I still be in that dark hole of near despair had I not started taking Vitamin D? And how much of it would have lifted without any of that?

Today, if you live somewhere warm(er) enjoy going outside and not having to worry about freezing your butt off. Me, I'm going to be thankful I live in a warm home and have the energy and ambition to get up off my butt and do some physical work (for a change).

The Darkening Cusp

The daylight hours are shrinking here. With just under 8 hours of daylight now, knowing those will dwindle to just over seven in less than a month, I've found the Church's celebration of Advent gives meaning to the encroaching darkness. Advent reminds me that darkness is not the end of the story. Embracing Advent has been a hopeful alternative to the gritting of my teeth I used to do in order to get through these darkening days. Don't get me wrong. I'd be lying if I said I embraced these days with full abandon. I'm as happy as the next person to see December 22nd arrive with the knowledge of lengthening days literally on the horizon. But having a focus during the waiting helps.

A year ago I was in a very dark place. It was on the cusp of Advent that I was able to admit outloud for the first time that I struggled with sexual addiction. The paralyzing shame prompted me to write this prayer at an Advent retreat. What followed was close to 120 days of abstinence. I can still remember what it felt like to be present in the painful places; at times feeling empty, agitated, and restless. The weird but hopeful feeling to choose not to fill the gaping hole with that which could not heal it. The foreign but welcome realization that it was possible to acknowledge the gaping hole without rushing for the nearest escape route. I'm not sure I befriended the gaping hole but I learned it was possible to co-exist with it.

When youngest son moved out of our home and into the home of his 15 year old girlfriend my stringing together of one-day-at-a-times came to an end. I chose to revert back to habits of self numbing oblivion to get through abruptly becoming an empty nester.

What is that saying? It's darkest just before the dawn? By the end of the third month of being an empty nester I nearly lost my 18+ years of sobriety. Although I had always been a social drinker, becoming a closet one was starting to look inviting. Making my way to an AA meeting after an 8 or 9 year absence felt like more of a bottom than my initial steps into a meeting all those years ago. Admitting I couldn't do this recovery journey solo anymore was more humbling than a relief. I've since learned that years without a drink are entirely different than years of sobriety. I feel 95% newbie and 5% old timer at meetings.

Let Go and Let God is a recurring theme in recovery circles. Not too long ago I read somewhere you can either let go or get dragged. When I think of the verse "the truth shall set you free" maybe that's what letting go means. Perhps when I find myself getting dragged I am resisting truth. Today I experienced a moment when I was able to let go of a situation. These days I celebrate those tiny victories. It was a moment of "oh, that's not my problem to comment on, let alone fix."

Letting go is what I am bringing down with me into the darkness to chew on this Advent. This post has given me focus as I prepare to hunker down and wait for the Light.

I Just Ate Your Last Coke...

..that was the sentence I was composing in my head before I sat down to confess such in an email to night-shift-working dearest one tonight. It took me several run throughs to realize I must be really tired to think I could eat a can of Coke.

Thank you for all your well wishes and prayers. The retreat was wonderful. I haven't laughed so much in a long time. Sometimes when I go for a long time without laughing and then eventually do, my laughter rings hollow. I feel startled at the sound of my own laugh....like it doesn't belong to me but someone I don't even know. This weekend my laughter felt warm and life giving and fluid. Best of all it was spontaneous and genuine.

My talk was well received although that's neither here nor there. I like talking and they let me, so we're both happy. Last week dearest one was in the middle of writing a letter for me to read during my weekend, when I walked into the livingroom and started chattering his ear off, oblivious to what he was doing. Eventually he looked at me and told me his thought train had 'derailed' and he had been on a roll before I started talking. We laughed and I thought he was pretty sweet not to just delete the whole thing. He told me he now knew what I felt like when I was writing a blog post and he started talking to me and I lost my own train of thought.

Written words don't come easily to him so he was disappointed to be 'derailed' in the midst of writing me an encouraging note. However he made me laugh and cry this weekend when I read that particular note. Here is what he said:

"Hi Heart,

Hope is such an easy word to say; I hope this...I hope that...I hope you...

Your pen name fits you so well because as Dr. M. said, "Her determination will do her a lot of good." That is the same determination that has kept you going for thus far all the way since '62 and will likely be the substance that keeps you plugging away through the next however many decades of this life.

For me that has been somewhat of a two edged sword at times. There are the "I can do this or I'll be damned" times when I would have sooner done it for you; to me it would have been easier than watching you struggle with the fallout later [he's talking of me using up spoons unnecessarily]. For you it seems to be that same 'determination' that your grandma saw.

Hope is your favourite word in the English language, perhaps which is partially why you are so well able to....(Here's where my train derailed) ...give others a vision of what it looks like for themselves.

I have many hopes for you, for me, for us....the greatest of which I know will be realized when we are snuggled in the arms of Christ, hearing his "Well done."

Forever hope,
dearest one

Somehow I know he will forgive me for eating the last can of his coke.

Blessed Procrastination

There is a blessed chinook going on outside today. Blessed because it means a relief from the abnormally cold temperatures of late and the partial melting of the two+ feet of snow we've received since the 28th of October. I haven't been out of the yard since last Friday. Winter driving is not my best suit and when you live in the middle of nowhere driving is mandatory if you want to see another human being. Icy roads and a sudden snowfall kept me home last weekend instead of going to my Lay Formation course. It's getting pretty bad when a person feels snow(house)bound and winter hasn't even officially begun!

I am procrastinating along with the best of them today. Tomorrow I am headed to a women's retreat where I am one of a dozen speakers. I enjoy the speaking part of it as much as the writing and preparing ahead of time. I've accepted both are gifts God has given me and am thrilled to share them with others. It will be a weekend of little sleep, lots of laughter, a good cry or two, plus great food. I will be totally spoonless before it is over but will be rejuventated in my spirit. The thought of daily Mass and access to a chapel around the clock (with the exposition of the Blessed Sacrament) both lift my spirits. I have quite a long list of things that need to get accomplished before I head out the door tomorrow. Nothing like leaving it to the last minute to get my butt in gear.

Mentally I am feeling like something has lifted. I don't have any more energy or ambition to do a blessed thing but at least I am not feeling like there is a black cloud hovering over me on top of it. I'm no longer resisting the pull into my prayer room and I can go and sit there in solitude and feel some peace.

This morning while waiting for the computer to wake up I looked outside to see a herd of elk grazing not much more than a stone's throw from the deck. The dogs must be used to them already because they didn't bark up a storm at their presence. Maybe before winter is over I will be able to get a photo of them to share with you. How to do that without spooking them all away will be the challenge.

Yesterday morning I took a picture of the sunrise from inside the house. I do love the expanse of sky just outside my window, don't you?

Catholic Carnival 93

This week's Catholic Carnival can be found here. Lots to read over there.

Wading Through, Doing The Work

Wow. I could write a separate post on each one of you and how you continue to impact my life. Some of you I know only through the internet - from what I've read on your blogs and through personal emails, others I also talk to on the phone and there are several commenters who I know in my everyday, face to face life.

A few years ago when we were a family on welfare and using the food bank I learned that whenever someone takes the time to pay attention to me, be it in conversation, prayer or by meeting a physical, emotional, or social need, they sacrifice to do so because they could've been spending that time/money doing something else. So thank you for taking the time to not only read, but comment. Jean Vanier in his book, From Brokenness to Community says the cry of the human heart is this: "Am I important to you? Do I have any value?" Thank you for hearing my cry.

I sat in my prayer room this morning welcoming the solitude and silence. I felt embraced and hopeful. I was reminded that my job is to show up. The way God works is a mystery and today I could accept that again. I didn't need to have it all figured out. I get tripped up so easily thinking the finish line is the point. Like my friend Peter says, "one foot in front of another." Often in the quest to put that one foot in front of the other, I trip and fall, then feel ashamed that I haven't managed to keep standing. Reading these words were soothing to me this weekend:

"Though fairy tales end after ten pages, our lives do not. We are multivolume sets. In our lives, even though one episode amounts to a crash and burn, there is always another episode awaiting us, and then another. There are always more opportunities to get it right, to fashion our lives in the ways we deserve to have them. Don't waste your time hating a failure. Failure is a greater teacher than success. Listen, learn, go on."(emphasis added)

The author also writes,

"It is ...... fatuous to think that once we solve an issue it stays solved, that once we learn, we always remain conscious ever after. No, life is a great body that grows and diminishes in different areas, at different rates. When we are like a body, doing the work of new growth, wading through shit, just breathing or resting, we are very alive,.....If we could realize that the work is to keep doing the work, we would be much more....peaceful."

Part of my struggle lately is that I am still wading through this relatively new empty-nest-season in my life. I home schooled my kids for 15 years and went on quite the detours in my spiritual life during that time. I joke to only daughter that it's a wonder her and her siblings don't have spiritual whiplash. Some of those detours celebrated repression in the name of being a good wife and mother. I lost a part of me in it all. I don't mean that as a slam against homeschooling or being a stay at home mother. There were many positives to both. Any person, no matter how they spend their days, can repress that which is life giving, can drown out the voice of their own soul, in order to get the (fleeting) applause of the (invisible) crowd.

And so here I am. It feels both scary and exhilarating. The rest of my life is before me and with far less responsibility, I find myself trying to navigate a freedom I haven't had since my college days. Had I known I would develop a chronic illness before this season of my life began I might've made different choices earlier. But none of us have the wisdom of hindsight until it is just that, hindsight. I've come to the conclusion that repressing what would have breathed life into my soul has quite possibly contributed to my illness. I don't think it is a coincidence that being short of breath was one of the first symptoms. If I hadn't had the genetics that made this illness possible, I think my body would've tried to get my attention some other way. It has my attention now. Some people would read that and think I am being too hard on myself. I don't feel any guilt or shame coming to the conclusion I have come to. I feel thankful that my body would do what it had to, to get my attention. It is a gift. I am forced to pay attention to those things I could've kept silenced by busyness and noise. It doesn't mean I don't mourn what used to be because I do. So does my dearest one.

Last week he was in a(n)(unusual for him) melancholy place, saying aloud several times that he felt like someone died. We both thought his mood was about his deceased brother, who's birthday was that day. Eventually he realized the person he was mourning was me. Us. We had quite different dreams for this season of our lives. They all involved doing things that took physical ability. Dearest one walks 108 steps up from locker room to hospital floor daily. He says not one day goes by that he doesn't think of me as he walks and how I am unable to face such a challenge. Me, who used to thrill at the challenge of walking faster, pushing myself a little harder every time I exercised. We both know if I attempted those 108 steps I would be going down on a stretcher. This makes dearest one feel not only sad but angry, too.

Our dreams of walking the beach, travelling overseas, getting in the car and driving wherever our hearts desire are no longer possible. Our lives together revolve around my spoon supply. As we talked about this last week I realized anew that when one person has a chronic illness it impacts everyone around them. Dearest one has to pace himself to my pace. Part of me laughs at the irony as I type that. There were so many years when I went for a walk and was absolutely frustrated that dearest one wanted a leisurely walk and I wanted to acccomplish something instead - get my heart rate up and have an aerobic work out. These days moving from doorstep to car can get my heart rate up into that level. I dearly miss the challenge of exercising and increasing my stamina, being fit instead of fat.

Dearest one says it makes him feel like he is a single person because for him to realize his dreams of travel, etc. it will have to be alone. For even if we went together, the exploring and all that we find exciting about doing it, is impossible for me. Heck, we can't even go for a long quad ride together on our farm because if we get stranded I will be unable to walk my way out of the bush. Dearest one is seeing his dreams vanishing because what we wanted to do together holds no appeal to do solo. My physical limitations often make him feel like he is married to someone 40 years his senior.

So while we are in yet another cycle of mourning, we are also looking to the future and how to make the most of it. Validating the feelings yet not getting stuck in them. I refuse to let this illness define who I am. How exactly to navigate the reality of it is something we continually revisit. The wading through, doing the work continues. I do feel like I have my bearings again spiritually. I feel like I am able to face those things I have repressed and see what they have to teach me. I am hopeful in it all that I will befriend my feelings instead of being scared of them. I am hopeful that my mind and body will become more in sync instead of enemies.

Last week one day dearest one met the doctor who pushed the specialists until they came up with a diagnosis for me. She asked him how I was and when he told her that he thought I was worse and I thought I was better she told him that his assessment was most likely right but that my determination would get me far in life. When I was a newborn, premature infant in an incubator, my grandma came to see me. She went home and wrote in her diary that I had this look of fierce determination on my face. By the grace of God, it's still there.

The View From Here

Yesterday morning with the windchill factor added the weatherman said it was the equivalent of -34 C outside. We definitely have winter in full force here. That's the view from our deck looking out towards the creek.

A new reader left a comment on the post below this one. Yesterday I just about decided to stop writing on here, convinced it wasn't life giving to anyone, not even me. In the process of changing to beta blogger and categorizing a pile of posts I got to see how I keep going around and around the same subjects. I know this is how the journey works but if I get tired of it I figure you do too. Well, and in the grand scheme of life one less blog really isn't going to matter, I know that.

I will be away for the weekend and am asking regular readers and those who lurk to leave me a 'hi' in the comments. It is so easy to lose perspective and feel like I have been stuck forever or am only taking steps backwards. I can't remember ever being in such a funk. One day I hope to be able to rest in this moment, not worry about the next one and not obsess about the past ones. I'm looking that direction but I'm not there yet.

Naked Safety

Lately I've been in the darkest of pits. The safety of that pit has been easier to take than the vulnerability of living in the Light. If I didn't know what it felt like to bask in the Light I most likely could keep living in the pit. But I have experienced a chunk of time when the need to feel safe in the dark was replaced with the freedom of living in the Light. It was a most beautiful, intimate Light. And having experienced it, I am torn between the two. In all honesty if it were possible, I would choose safety in the pit and freedom - but it's not. I've been very disilllusioned about how, in what seemed like a nanosecond, the freedom disappeared and I found myself back in the safety of high, high walls. Lately those walls, despite their height and strength, have been a sad and lonely place to feel protected yet bound.

This afternoon I had an appointment with Father Charlie, my spiritual director. While he reads whatever blog offering I bring, I usually read one of these books. My favourite one is called Be-good-to-yourself Therapy. Today I picked it up and found the very first page to read something like this: "Trust yourself. You know what you want and need." It seemed like every other page had either the word trust or ask. When one has isolated themselves in a wall of protective darkness doing either seems an impossibility. Trusting means opening oneself up to pain and being hurt. Asking means needing others and owning your voice. Every line had something to do with looking inward and seeing goodness or looking up and trusting the Goodness. As I read my heart rate started to speed up, then I got teary - something I haven't allowed myself to do while in this particular pit.

I told Father Charlie my heart was pounding so fast that I had to stop reading. My body was filled with the tension of trying to keep Truth out. Finally the tears spilled over and I started talking. We talked of the difference between setting boundaries and putting up walls. Of resentments, hiding in black holes and being closed up within oneself so tightly that movement felt impossible. We talked of my struggle to choose freedom over hiding.

He asked me if there were any images coming to mind as we talked. Often I get a picture in my head when he asks questions and that picture is usually very telling. Today I had none but he did. He said that a picture of my house kept coming to him and how there are rooms in one's house where they feel comfortable being vulnerable and others where that vulnerability wouldn't be such a sure bet. He also talked of how a closet is a place where it's usually dark. He meant it all metaphorically...

He had no idea how this image would speak to me. As he described the image I heard a bit of the twilight zone theme buzzing round my head. Earlier this week I took some pictures in my house and dearest one taught me how to download the images to the computer just this morning. The image Father Charlie was getting was not simply metaphorical but very real. Although he's been a guest in our home he had no idea I even had a prayer room. Or that I haven't been inside it in nearly two months. I used to take a breakfast tray in there every morning and journal while I ate. Then I would light candles and sit in the silence. Sometimes I would also pray the litgurgy of the hours, the rosary or simply talk to God. It's the one room in my house where I can shut the door and, in privacy, safety and all nakedness of soul, get totally vulnerable with God. I've been walking past its open door a dozen times a day lately but haven't been able to bring myself to actually go in it. It isn't a space I can keep my arms wrapped tight around myself in without risking feeling the warmth of God's arms enveloping me, too. It's a sacred space where I feel stripped bare. I told Father Charlie it almost feels like there is an invisible force field in that room and lately it's as if I'm being drawn to go in there but resistant to the hilt inside myself.

I still haven't set foot in it. But it is comforting to know that when I am ready to go from the protective darkness to the safety of the Light, there is an actual space to sit in and be comforted while I weep, and pray, and let down my walls.

At the end of our session I picked up the book and finished reading it. The cloying darkness had lifted and just knowing the room is there when I am ready, calmed my heart and gave me a hope I haven't felt in a long time.

Coasting

Coasting is what I feel like I am doing right now in life. Couldn't care less about anything. Trying to be in the moment but feeling like there is no point to this moment. Feeling guilty that I can't even fake a gratitude list. Feeling like I am living in a self induced vicious cycle. No journalling, no meditation. No quiet of soul. Auto pilot existence. And I feel like it is up to me to do something about it. Do something about the numbness. I think I used to live like this all the time. A safely masked existence. I know this will pass but do I want it to? The glimmer of hope? This is day 8 of abstinence.

Changes

I'm playing around with the template and having changed to beta blogger I lost all my haloscan comments and I can't get them to load into this new system. Sorry if you are getting many posts on bloglines. Sometimes too many choices gets more annoying than not.

Living In The Tension

I came across a blog the a few days ago and in this post a sentence jumped out at me. It read:

"I have a desire to live life rather than hide from it."

The author put into words what I have been doing lately - trying to hide from life.

Yesterday at my weekly AA meeting someone talked about waging a war within ones' self and how in a war when one side waves a white flag they are surrendering to life not death.

I find myself living in the tension between those two thoughts, hiding from life and surrendering to life.

My phone went on the fritz before I could post this yesterday. In reflecting on it between then and now I realized that there has to be some level of awareness to have either of those phrases jump out at me and grab my attention. Somehow realizing that helped me see that I am not as lost as I thought I was.

Words To Ponder II

The Way I Want to Love You

by Julian of Norwich

You must learn to understand that all your deficiencies, even those that come from your past sins and vicious habits, are part of my loving providence for you, and that it is just with those deficiencies, just the way you are now, that I would love you. Therefore you must overcome the habit of judging how you would make yourself acceptable to me. When you do this you are putting your providence, your wisdom before mine. It is my wisdom that tells you, �The way you are acceptable to me, the way I want to love you, is the way you are now, with all your defects and deficiencies. I could wipe them out in a moment if I wanted to, but then I could not love you the way I want to love you, the way you are � now.�

Source: Revelations of Divine Love

via

Life On The Cerebral Plain

I have very little experience to go on when it comes to living life from somewhere other than my head. Living on a cerebral level feels much safer. Total control. My body, my feelings, my gut - well - they aren't nearly so predictable, you know? One time my mom was showing me something in her bookshelves when she touched my shoulder. My body's instant reaction was to freeze and try to get away from her touch. I was over 35 years old when that happened. The body remembers things that the mind would rather not. It doesn't seek permission first either. Scary stuff.

The last time the Gospel reading at the Mass was the one where Jesus says "Who do you say that I am?" Father Charlie asked us how we would answer that question. I know now why I gravitated towards a fundamentalist bent of evangelicalism all these years. It seemed to be about having the right answer and preening (at least inwardly) if you did. And since I have spent most of my life either convinced I was right or pretending to be, that whole mind set suited me well. And while I know there are fundamentalist Catholics out there, and as much as I sometimes want to run to their camp, living my faith from somewhere deeper than spouting off the 'right' answer is a challenge I try to embrace.

So, Father Charlie throws out Christ's question to us, "Who do you say that I am?" and I get all smug, sit up a bit straighter and call out, "Saviour." He shoots back without a moment's hesitation "Why?" I throw back at him something along the lines of Christ died for my sins and the rest of the answer I was used to getting brownie points for. The 'right, safe' answer. Something out of a textbook. Father Charlie said nothing in reply. No gold star for me. No pat on the back. In the intervening nano second of quiet someone else gave their answer. Several minutes of this goes on, with nearly everyone in our tiny congregation saying something, when he challenges another women in the pews to answer at more than a head level. At this he turns and tells all of us that we need to answer that question from somewhere more than a cerebral level. He draws his hand across his forehead, puts his hand over his heart and tells us we need to answer the question from our heart. And then he repeats Christ's question, "Who do you say that I am?" and leaves us hanging there - making us responsible for our own response.

Geez, I hate trick questions like that. After spending years being asked spiritual questions in a context where the person asking already has the set answer in mind, I get lost when the rules change. Ask me what I think and I can nearly give you a thesis. Ask me how I feel and more often than not I am stumped. I have lost track of the number of times I have been confronted with that question, "Who do you say that I am?" since hearing the Gospel read at the Mass every Sunday. It trips me up every time.

Where am I going with this tale? On some level I know that my sobriety, my abstinence, my linking together of one day at a time(s) hinges on living from somewhere other than my head. It means being open to listening to what my body, my feelings, my gut is trying to tell me. Doing so scares the crap out of me. But life has become pretty unmanageable by trying to live solely from my head so I know it's either quit my bitching and jump into the unkown or accept the same old, same old. I hope to God I've come to the end of the same old, same old.

Last month at one of my AA meetings a woman shared how she lived her life from her heart. She said that she knew all too well what life had been like when she tried living it from her head. I immediately thought of the magnet you see in this post. When I got home I took it off my fridge, put it in an envelope and wrote her a short note of explanation. I got goose bumps when she shared at that meeting because she nearly quoted the magnet word for word just by sharing her experience, strength and hope. She gave me hope that living from my heart is possible, that letting go is necessary, and that one day, the words on the magnet will be my own reality.

Addiction and Grace

"Addiction cannot be defeated by the human will acting on its own, nor by the human will opting out and turning everything over to the divine will. Instead, the power of grace flows most fully when human will chooses to act in harmony with divine will. In practical terms, this means staying in a situation, being willing to confront it as it is, remaining responsible for the choices one makes in response to it, but at the same time turning to God's grace, protection, and guidance as the ground for one's choices and behavior. It is the difference between testing God by avoiding one's own responsibilities and trusting God as one acts responsibly. Responsible human freedom thus becomes authentic spiritual surrender, and authentic spiritual surrender is nothing other than responsible human freedom. Here, in the condition of humble dignity, the power of addiction can be overcome." ~ Gerald May in Addiction & Grace

Day one for me today.

My False Self

Early on in my sobriety I remember sitting at an open AA meeting next to a woman of wisdom. She was nearing 80 years of age and when she spoke we were all mesmerized by her humility and wisdom. I remember asking God to infuse me straight away with some kind of similar wisdom before it was my turn to talk. Ya, right. Not exactly the way it works is it?

At that point in my life there were two thoughts that were constantly at the edge of my consciousness. One was that AA meetings were the only place on earth that was safe and real. That reality alternately scared and thrilled me. The other was wondering why I couldn't handle living in that reality. Why could I not just say how it was with me without it having to be about image? My image. I found myself jockeying for position - a position that came from within me - not one that anyone was trying to compete with me for. Eventually the group I was in disbanded and there were several reasons I didn't seek out a new one. None of them good or justifiable. Had I gone to a different group I am sure I would have either been confronted with truth that I couldn't side step and I would have either welcomed it or used it as an excuse to get drunk. With no sponsor (still thinking I could go it alone) there was also no one to answer to. I walked away from it thinking I had enough years of sobriety behind me that me and God could handle my soriety solo.

Well, that I could handle it solo and would call on God only when it was obvious that I wasn't handling life on my own too well. What followed was nearly 10 years of mostly a dry drunk. Occasionally I walked the talk. More often than not I didn't. More often than not today, I still don't.

I can type that without beating myself up. I do have regrets about not having gone to meetings for the past 10 years. I came close to losing my sobriety this past June and in desperation I went back to meetings. When I did I came in contact with people with the same amount of sobriety as me and I got to see what sobriety, in its fullness, could be. I'm willing to learn not to mourn those years too much but I still stumble over the words we read aloud at every meeting:

"We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it."

I feel like I am newly sober. I want the serenity others have. I want to know what it is to say how I am without dressing it up a bit. To be able to own up to my humanity without being self condemning. It could be someone newly sober or someone with 22 years of sobriety that God uses to speak truth to me. It took at least two months of meetings for me to ''get it'' that years of sobriety didn't count for much, it was living it in this moment that really mattered. And when I heard someone with 2 days of sobriety worry less about image and more about reality than I was capable of - that got my attention.

Which brings me to today. Wondering what it says to have 18+ years of sobriety behind me and not one day of abstinence when it comes to either bingeing or sexual addiction. There is a bit that we read at every meeting that has been haunting me lately. It reads like this:

"Rarely have we seen a person fail who has thoroughly followed our path. Those who do not recover are people who cannot or will not completely give themselves to this simple program, usually men or women who are constitutionally incapable of being honest with themselves. There are such unfortunates. They are not at fault; they seem to have been born that way. They are naturally incapable of grasping and developing a manner of living which demands rigorous honesty. Their chances are less than average. There are those too, who suffer from grave emotional and mental disorders, but many of them do recover if they have the capacity to be honest."

I used to read that bit in the big book and think of my brother-in-law who went through rehab like it was a revolving door. He died over two years ago, sober on the night of his death, but not in sobriety. I used to think what a pity it was that he couldn't get honest while patting myself on the back for my own. These days I hear the above read at meetings and more often than not the words are hitting me so hard I am unaware of anyone else in the room. I pray I can learn to be so rigorous. I worry that I won't.

I told someone the other day that there was no way I wanted to be an 80 year old woman still stuck in her addictions. But do I want freedom bad enough to do the hard work? It seems I keep coming back to the truth that this life is lived only one fucking day at a time and I keep trying to live the rest of my life at one go. It feels like paying attention to this moment is an impossibility. I am scared to find out how that feels. I have heard enough at meetings to know I will never do it perfectly. But can I be willing in the moment, to be in the moment? I get exhausted just thinking about it. It makes me feel like I will have to spend the rest of my life like some guard standing at attention when all I want to do is slump against the wall.

The other day a piece of the puzzle came into focus for me. I have read of ego and have heard others speak of it at meetings but I never really understood it for myself. It was while reading this the other day that I got it finally. I sat there and realized it was my ego all along that has been in the way of being honest or being me at meetings. In love with my false self and protecting it at all costs. It was what others at meetings had faced in order to be rigorously honest. There was a time - let's say oh, 2 weeks ago - when having that revelation would have propelled me into action - trying to fix it and prove to anyone who cared that my real self truly leads the way. Today I can simply acknowledge the revelation for the gift it is, saying a hesitant amen to these words:

"If we are blessed God will destabilize and begin to 'break down' this false self."

I keep on hoping that it is possible to string together days of abstinence like my friend bobbie has. I do however, question whether I want it bad enough to make it a reality. I wonder if going to AA meetings and learning what I am there will make me come to the end of myself in these other areas or whether I will be one of those unfortunates who is unwilling to be honest with themselves. Some days I wonder who the hell do I think I am fooling. I'd rather have some miraculous cure from Jesus than face doing the hard work of recovery. But something tells me that hard work is the only way serenity and abstinence and true sobriety is ever going to be my reality. And that by stringing together one day at a time's worth of any of it really is a miracle.

I'll have mine on ice (not)

Over a foot of snow fell yesterday while I was in town for meetings. Highway travel wasn't recommended so I didn't venture home until today. On the drive home the worst stretch was the five miles of pure ice. Winter driving isn't my idea of a good time so I was really glad to turn in the driveway; my 55 minute drive turned into nearly 90. But here I am safe and sound. I am thankful.

The Way Back

Lately I have felt like I've been blindfolded, spun around countless times and left to navigate my way with no sense of direction. I spent the afternoon reading an amazing book online. Reading this book helped point the Way back.

One of my favourite quotes:

”When you’re not content with reality you will always worry about the way things appear.”

Aloneness

"Aloneness is not a curse to be avoided but a grace to be embraced. Aloneness is the goodness of an inner centering that faces the pain of differentness, sculpted and understood by God. And there is no greater grace than the blessing of acceptance in the face of one's differentness and aloneness...the God who made the world with kaleidoscopic beauty affirms us at the core of who we are and says: "I know you,do not be afraid."
~Henri Nouwen~

via

Words Of Comfort

"There are days I drop words of comfort on myself like falling rain & remember it is enough to be taken care of by myself."

via

Embraced

I feel like I am slogging my way down a very murky path
doing the fake it til you make it dance.
I feel kinship with the cold, bare trees outside my window.
Except I have a layer of fat - humour still intact, that's gotta be a hopeful thing.
I feel like embracing waiting, being present and grounded are things I am faking.
Embraced is the last thing I want.
So I run the other way and get pissed that I do not run alone.
I want to yell "leave me the fuck alone."
Yet know that will never happen.
Not only does One run by my side but
I am surrounded by a cloud of witnesses,
seen and unseen, cheering me on.
I try to drown out their voices
only to find A voice inside me.
Even so, I try to hide what cannot be hidden.
And I cry because I am embraced
on the murky path,
while fighting to go it alone.

Transformation

There are some excellent posts over at Prodigal Kiwi(s)Blog regarding a series of talks given by Richard Rohr.

Scapegoating
Day One
Day Two

The pdf notes available within the posts resonated with me.

Here's one quote from the notes that I wrote out:

"If you do not transform your pain, your hurt, your brokenness, your addictions and your woundedness, you will always transmit it - will always relate to others out of it."

A Work Of Grace

I am grateful for the mysterious happening called letting go. God knows I can't seem to make it happen on my own.

Last night our youngest son came over with his girlfriend. A girl I have had a real hard time liking. Thoughts such as you've got my son by the balls and I'm onto your games have been at the forefront of my mind for much of their relationship. Ya. Not the proudest of that, but it's the truth. I had had a breakthrough with my attitude towards her earlier this year but my attitude didn't last. No angel halo for me.

So last night (at the end of an 18 hour spoonless day, no less) I was pleasantly surprised to find no ill will within me towards her. Instead a calm acceptance. Somewhere between last night and I don't know when, I realized I had stopped expecting things she can't deliver. Things like acting more than her age (15) or not acting out in behaviours that she could only change through hard work, healing grace and much love.

And while I was pleasantly surprised not to have that below the surface pissyness towards her I was also unsettled. Because I know a change in attitude towards her means I most likely have a softer attitude towards myself, too. A work of grace. And for this control loving woman, not being able to put a finger on where and when and how it all happened, and that it happened without my orchestrating it all - well - that's an answer to someone's prayers! Including my own.

Thank You For Each Moment

I spent the day at a journalling retreat. It was good to get a different perspective on journalling as well as concrete ideas for cultivating a deeper awareness of my spiritual journey through journalling. Here is a prayer we prayed (whose title is this post title) together at the start of the retreat:

Lord, thank you for each moment,
for the blue-sky moment,
the softening earth,
the refreshing wind,
the yellow bush,
for my full heart
and the joy rising in me.

Soften me
to receive whatever comes as a gift
and to praise you in it.

Lord, thank you for each moment
for the twilight moment,
the pause,
the good tired,
for the quiet reflection,
the slowing down,
the mysterious sunset,
for the wisdom growing inside me.

Gentle me
to feel whatever comes as a gift
and to praise you in it.

Lord, thank you for each moment,
for the midnight moment,
the loneliness,
the fretful wondering,
for the watchful stars,
the long ache,
the sleepless wait,
and the hope straining in me.

Focus me
to see whatever comes as a gift
and to praise you in it.

Lord, thank you for each moment,
for the high-noon moment,
the job,
the necessary routine,
for the sweaty struggle,
the impulse to change,
and the courage gathering in me.

Ground me
to wrestle with whatever comes as a gift
and to praise you in it.

Lord, thank you for each moment,
for the shared moment,
the listening,
the unguarded word,
for the fragile openness,
the ready smile,
the accepted difference,
for my passionate heart
and the trust rooting in me.

Stretch me
to grow with whatever comes as a gift
and to praise you in it.

Thank you for each moment,
for the charged moment,
the confrontation,
for the hard decision,
the unexpected growing,
for my intense heart
and the truth expanding in me.

Free me
to be open to whatever comes as a gift
and to praise you in it.

Thank you for each moment,
for the holy moment,
the music,
the child's eyes,
for the sunlight,
the touch,
the tears,
for the trembling pleasure,
the unutterable beauty,
for the life and love and heart in me aware,
and the wholeness spreading in me.

Touch me
through whatever comes as a gift
That I may be grateful
and praise you in it.
~from Guerrillas of Grace by Ted Loder

Words To Ponder

Give Birth to Your Own Baby
~Janusz Korczak

"To demand that others should provide you with answers is like asking a strange woman to give birth to your baby. There are insights that can be born only of your own pain, and they are most precious."

Source: How to Love a Child

via

Waiting

I'm having a hard time accepting where I'm at in my journey right now. I feel all too familiar with this frozen/walls up state of being. It's a fight to keep on putting one hopeful foot in front of another. I just want to be free of the struggle. And I can't seem to make that happen. I can want it. I can long for it. Knowing what it felt like once to be without these self made walls makes me hope for it to happen again. Hope for it to one day be the norm rather than the exception. Yet here I am with walls up and no map as to how to get them down again. So I wait and hope that what I can't seem to do on my own, God will. And the waiting seems like the hardest work there is.

Writing it all down without judging myself for where I am at, is hard. I feel like a drama queen on a pity pot. And I hate it. And I want to pretend I am somewhere else on the journey.

Strong Yet Broken

I thoroughly enjoyed your ideas of what 'symbol of self' I should bring with me tonight to my Lay Formation course. Thank you for putting the time and energy into answering that question for me. I did think of bringing my silly putty or my little silver square medallion with the word Hope engraved on it. But in the end I chose this rock you see. Rocks are strong. When this rock is put together you can still see the cracks in it. So as much as I sometimes like to think I have it all together, the cracks remind me to let the Light in. This week I visited the Sacred Space website for the first time and the day's Scripture reading was about the good Samaritan.
I've been trying to keep God at a distance for a while now. When I feel insecure and want some semblance of control in my life I tend to stop talking to God - God is often too unpredictable and I get scared to risk the conversation because it often wrecks my effort to keep the distance and also wrecks any illusion I have of being in control.
Well.
I was reading the verses about the good Samaritan when into my head came this image of Christ being the good Samaritan and it was I who was lying on the road in need of tending. I watched as Christ knelt and tended to my wounds with the utmost tenderness and care. I may be trying to keep God at a distance but this image reminded me to do so is always a one sided endeavor. I could hardly bear it and I tried to shut the image out. "But I'm trying to keep you at a distance. I can hardly bear the tenderness of Your love." I wish I could write that the whole experience reduced me to tears and that my walls were broken down. For now I am keeping this image in my heart until, well, until I give up the fight and accept the care Christ keeps pouring out no matter how much I struggle.


With all of that happening it is harder for me to let this rock fall apart because when I do, I am reminded that it is not only okay to be broken, but that the journey is also about hope, healing and restoration. The line

"You're worth more broken."

from Broken For you reverberates within me.

Symbol of Self

I am in the second year of a Lay Formation Program that is offered in our Diocese. I get to meet with a great group of people one weekend a month from September to April. For our next weekend the presenter has asked each of us to bring something that is a symbol of self - something that says who you are.

So - two questions. What would you advise me to bring - what comes to your mind when you think of something that would be a symbol of who I am? And what would you bring if it was you?

I have an idea of what I am going to bring. I'll post a picture of it next Friday.

Good Stuff

Two posts you don't want to miss:

dirty little secrets - porn & the church

the problem with accountability

Catholic Carnival

This week's Catholic Carnival is chock full of great posts to read.

To The Best Of Our Ability

When dearest one brought me to this part of the country nearly 25 years ago I remember asking him, "Where's civilization?" We were driving along a two lane highway with trees hugging both ditches. As far as the eye could see there were trees - that part of the country uninhabited by people.

That stretch of highway is still there - upgraded to a four lane highway most of the way - but still the trees reach to the horizon.

This past weekend, after my AA meeting, I wished I didn't live so far away from 'civilization'. With a 150km round trip to get to a meeting it takes more than wishful thinking to get there every week. I feel like I am sponge soaking up so much goodness when I go to a meeting. If I lived closer to meetings I would take in more than one a week.

At my meeting this past Saturday I heard, I mean truly 'heard', a woman talk about working the steps to the best of our abililty. And it struck me that if I looked at all of my life in that vein I would take the pressure off myself to be somewhere other than where I am on the journey. I need reminding of truth like that. Then this morning I read Jim's comment and knew that he was essentially telling me the same thing. Here is his comment in case you missed it.

"Hope, none of us walk on water. Some would preach it like the entrance of Christ suddenly turns us into super saints who have it all together. Always, it is a journey. The "transforming of our mind" (Rom 12:1-2) is an on-going process that we attempt with Him. What you ask yourself is: Have I not come a distance from where I was? Does His presence speak to me in the journey?...If all you have is an attempt to change yourself, the Bible asks in Jeremiah: "Can the Ethiopian change his skin, or the leopard his spots? then may you also do good that are accustomed to do evil". Indeed, the difference in us is "only" Christ "in" us; and that relationship we forge with Him brings unto us strength, patience, peace, grace, all that He is............"
jim Homepage 10.01.06 - 8:14 am #

To Be A Witness

I am struggling to keep my walls down. After going through an extended period of time, by the grace of God, of having no walls up, I've been stunned by how quickly I can put them back up. I am stunned by how quick my instinct is to shut people out when I feel threatened. How much easier it seems to be alone and in my cave than open and vulnerable.

After bemoaning the fact that this journey feels like too much hard work, I said something yesterday that gave Father Charlie the opportunity to tell me for the umpteenth time - the Truth shall set you free. Oh, vey. Can't you see me dancing for joy? Nope. Nada. Not this gal.

Friday I got pissy with dearest one. What started out as one small resentment lead to remembering plenty of deep seated ones. Ones I thought had been dealt with years ago. I could have been grateful that those resentments had been brought up to the surface where I could choose to deal with them. I wanted to be. Even at my AA meeting I talked as if knowing I needed to let go of them meant I would. On a cerebral level I wanted to. On a heart level I was one pissed off woman with a long memory. And in the interest of keeping the resentments alive I did, subconsciously, what I could to keep them that way. I let my 6 weeks minus a day length of abstinence when it came to my sexual addiction fall away. Nothing will kill intimacy quicker, or keep it from being possible, than self medicating; than turning towards something that masquerades as intimacy, yet is incapable of delivering.

So Sunday morning finds me in need of mercy. In need of grace. I make my way to confession before I was crippled by shame. I go into it wanting a reminder that all is not lost, that I am not lost, that I can still hold my head up and move forward. When I'm done sharing what needs exposing to the Light, yet before I get the reassurance I need, Father Charlie asks if it's possible that there's a link between my resentments surfacing with my acting out in self numbing behaviour. The stunned knowing in my gut, that confirms Truth has been spoken, is there and for the first time I see a direct link between the behaviours. And as much as I wanted to hit the delete button on the Truth, I don't.

From Sunday onward I've felt like an observer of my own actions. What was subconscious behaviour the day before turned into conscious behaviour. I was able to connect the dots in what has been such a (never before realized) predictable pattern in my life. Every self destructive behaviour since has felt like I was punching dearest one (and our relationship) with a "take that" and "that" attitude. I put up my walls in secret only to watch them destroy in the open.

Despite the head knowledge, it took until yesterday to even be willing to consider letting go. I had no grid for how to validate my feelings, which were at the root of the resentments, while letting go of the resentments themselves. I felt as if letting go meant the feelings weren't important. Father Charlie walked me through how to validate the feelings, deal with them and then make a choice. Hang onto them and create walls in relationships, or let go of them and have the intimacy I crave. What did I want to be? A martyr? A victim? Healed? Whole? Hard questions. The choice is mine. How powerful and scary at the same time.

All I really want is to be able to live an authentic life. To be accepting of myself no matter what. To be honest with myself and others. To be a credible witness to the life I do have. To be a credible witness means telling it how it is, without embellishing the truth. I thought I had that mastered. With every AA meeting I attend, I see that I don't.

I had to laugh at myself this past week. On my way to the meeting I was sorting through why I struggle to share at meetings. Why my words sound hollow to myself and how blown away I am by others' honesty and why, oh why do I seem incapable of being that honest? I laughed when I realized I was always trying to compose a "blog like post" in my head to share at the meetings. That is so far removed from simply telling it like it is. Whether it is messy or not, just tell it like it is, Hope. That's all. Sometimes I wonder if I'm not desperate enough yet to be honest, without worrying what it looks like to others.

Usually when I write a blog post I have had some time to sort and decide what to tell and what not to, if even to write about it at all. At a meeting I need a place to tell it like it is, whether I'm sorting it through or not quite there yet. Sharing only shiny, worked through issues are not going to get me very far in the recovery process.

At this point I have the head knowledge of what it means to choose to let go or not. I feel raw and vulnerable. I am still stunned by how swift I was to erect walls to protect myself. I wish it was so easy to let them crumble. I told Father Charlie yesterday that all I felt like God was asking of me was to be present and aware; willing to sit and wait in the feelings while I learned to deal with them. It sounds so brave to type that. So hard to live it.

You know, week after week at AA meetings I hear it said that none of us live the program perfectly, that it's spiritual progress we are after, not perfection. This past week I read these things aloud at the meeting and it felt like I was hearing them for the first time. For part of the time that I was reading them aloud they were speaking to me so deeply that I was totally unaware of anyone else.

I've had a love affair with head knowledge my whole life. I have a magnet on my fridge that says: "More than anything she wanted to live from her heart." I look forward to bearing witness to that reality one day.

Wallowing

"Don't wallow in guilt. Wallow in the mercy of God."

~Catherine Doherty
The Sacrament of Reconciliation is all about wallowing in mercy. When I found myself in much need of it yesterday, I asked to see the priest. Confession is good for my soul. It takes so much energy to carry around secrets. I know, I can take them to God at any moment. There is a relief though, in speaking them aloud to a human being, someone who represents Jesus with skin on to me. It helps keep the "if people really knew me" lie from paralyzing me. In a way, it helps keep me honest not only with myself, but in community as well.

And I believe in the church's teaching which Catherine Doherty explains this way: "When you say to a man, "I have sinned," you have to believe that this chap called a "priest," whatever he might be, is Christ, and it is Christ who says, "I forgive you. I absolve you." Get that straight. This must always be there before you in the infinite totality of faith. It is isn't the priest who is absolving in confession, it's Christ."

She goes on to speak of examining one's conscience as a means to recollect oneself - to collect all the fragments. And so with several fragments weighing on my mind yesterday I negated their power to fill me with shame by speaking them aloud and admitting I was in need of grace. Father Charlie was able to see the domino effect of one of my sins that lead me to commiting another. In doing so, a pattern I have been repeating for years was uncovered and held to the Light. The revelation spurs me on to begin another step 4 with an honesty I was incapable of a year ago.

Today has fragments of its own that need collecting. Rather than wallowing in shame because of that reality I will let those fragments lead me to wallow in Christ's mercy all over again.

Stinkin' Thinkin'

I feel like I've got my head screwed on straight again. What a relief. I went to my AA meeting this morning and, in the companionship of others on this journey, I found the encouragement, strength and hope to move forward.

They say that it's 15% about drinking and the remaining 85% about drinking. Funny how we think that stopping the drinking will take care of the rest but it's only the beginning. I have many years of doing next to nothing about my thinking.

Last night I got pissy with someone. Pissy enough that I knew I had to pick up the phone and make an amend to them before I went to bed. I determined I would state my thoughts to them today about the situation without drama and with clarity. What fun. I managed the clarity with a good dose of drama queen behaviour added in. Eventually I was able to tell the other person I needed to talk about the situation another time when my emotions were not running the show. I got off the phone and realized I had a resentment about not only this situation but about a whole slew of things related to it. Great. I started to beat myself up about it. Telling myself I had learned absolutely zip about recovery or else I wouldn't be acting like I was. Then I realized beating myself up was not accomplishing anything. So I stopped. I asked myself what I could be grateful for in the situation. And I found gratitude for recognizing the resentment and recognizing I needed to take care of it. It takes too much energy to carry resentments in my heart. Before returning to AA (in June) I doubt I would've recognized either. I would have milked that baby resentment right into a teenage size one with glee.

And so I went to my meeting and shared the whole story. The realization that I can't afford to carry resentments around with me because the carrying of them will lead me to act out in a way that is damaging to myself. And at that point all I was ready to do was ask God for help in letting it go because on my own I still wanted to feed it a little bit longer. And I found nods of understanding around the table and an acceptance that helped me accept myself for where I was at. What a gift.

I reached out in different ways this week to help me with other areas. I emailed someone about the sugar sensitivity issues in my life. At their suggestion, I then joined an online group for support. Being back in AA has taught me that I need to reach out and do something if I want change to happen in my life. It's not going to come find me, unless it deteriorates into such a mess that it involves other people. God's helping me reach out before I sink that far. I am grateful.

Food For Thought

Addiction Amoeba

Bucket Handles

Dearest one decided after his bone scan came back fine to go to the chiropractor to see if he could get some relief. He had been worried if something was wrong with his bones that a chiropractor could make it worse.

Wow. He had what is called a bucket handle sublexation......the rib was stuck hinged out - a bit of adjusting and he felt like a different person. Still a bit sore but his appetite came back and the nausea went away and last night he slept better than he has in many months!! A few more times of adjustments and he should be back to normal.

So we are more than grateful. Also feeling a tad bit silly - worrying and worrying and it ended up being an easy fix. Who would have thought a rib out of place could cause such pain? And that the doctors couldn't figure it out! What happens to the person who doesn't do chiropractors and they are in chronic pain?

Heaving a huge sigh of relief here. I am sure you are too.

"I Want That"

I was trying to avoid thinking by playing Carioca Rummy when I looked up at this plant. If you look closely you can see two tendrils reaching towards the ceiling. New growth.

When we moved into a different house the summer after Y2K, this plant came with it. Back then it grew on a trellis that went from floor to ceiling. I didn't know it needed quite a bit of water or adequate sunlight so the poor thing suffered under my care.

When we moved to this place I cut the plant off the trellis and salvaged what I could. I just about chucked the plant out in the midst of the moving is such a hassle exhaustion but decided to give it a reprieve. With a southeastern exposure and more water the plant is thriving and has new tendrils of growth to prove it.

These days I am resisting growth. In a determined no fucking way am I giving in kind of way.

Instead I'm taking sidetrips. Obsessing about dearest one's health problems is one way to avoid my issues. Staying up until 1 AM so I fall asleep the instant my head hits the pillow is another. Writing only one page in my journal as opposed to three works too. I can manage to stay superficial for one page whereas three runs the risk of opening up my wounds.

And I'd be fine if not for snippets I read here and there on your blogs that rebound in my head like one of those paddles with a bouncy ball attached on a string. I would love to cut the string that keeps your words afloat, but that darn Holy Spirit has the scissors. One sentence, one measly sentence can hound me like a mosquito in the night.

It was quite a while ago that I read these words in a postonRick's blog:

"What is the secret place inside you that God has put his finger on and has said to you, “I want that.”?"

That sentence has been haunting me. I don't keep many secrets these days. And if you've read my blog you know about my nearly lost sobriety and my struggles with sexual addiction. Not too long ago I wrote about the phrase "eating disorder" getting past my internal censor while I was praying. In that particular post I wrote:

"So now I pray for the courage to face what feels like my last escape hatch."

Screw that. I'm keeping my escape hatch for now. Rather than praying, I am doing my dead level best to pretend that I have no issues with food. The thought of having that prayer answered not only makes my innards cringe it makes me want to eat,too.

With breakthroughs in other areas of my life I feel like my issues have skootched themselves over into a pile and are playing themselves out in this area wherein I refuse to let go and let God. I feel like I've been backed into a corner hanging onto my Linus like blanket for all its worth. Too bad it doesn't give lasting comfort.

I whine to myself that if only a person didn't have to eat I would have some forward movement in this area of my life as well. What I really don't want to face up to is that I am not willing to give this over. Not willing to admit how unmanageable it makes my life. Admitting that would mean taking responsibility for my actions. I can hardly handle the thought of struggling with this one for one day at a time for the rest of my life.

When I went to get the link for Rick's Driving In The Dark post, I read a new post of his. In it he says:

We can never save (be made whole) ourselves regardless of how right we want to be. Eventually we will hit bottom and it usually happens when we least expect it. Our salvation doesn't come from running from God, it comes from returning to God... resting in God-- this is where we are made whole. When we are willing to face the truth of ourselves."

This is my second go round at writing this post. The first one got eaten up in an effort to edit it. This much later I'm having a hard time not judging myself for being a friggin drama queen who needs to stop her bellyaching and get with the program. How can you tell I've gone two weeks without a meeting?

Running the Gamut

Dearest one's bone scan came back normal. We are very relieved. They had told him it would only take 15 minutes for the scan and when he was in there over 30 minutes I started to worry. My vivid imagination can run the gamut in less than 30 seconds. We still don't know what is causing his symptoms but hopefully it won't take too much longer for the doctors to figure out. Dearest one has four more weeks of holidays and it would be wonderful to have this mystery solved before he goes back to work. Thank you for your prayers.

Delaying Tactics

"In virtually every major addiction, there comes a time when one resolves to master it. The addicted person decides to quit. "I've really got to stop. I just need a little more discipline and willpower." Sensing an impeding frontal attack upon its addiction, the mind comes up with the most cunning, inventive strategies possible. The more creative and intelligent the person, the more agonizing this process will be.

The mind will suggest, perhaps, that it is not wise to rush into such things. The "resolving to resolve" stage can effectively prohibit any real action from taking place for years at a time.

After a while, the person may recognize some of these delaying tactics for what they are. But they are never all recognized, for the mind is endlessly inventive; it always has another, more subtle trick up its sleeve. Even when the person realizes that it is time to "put up or shut up," the delays continue. Of necessity, they also become more ludicrous.

If the person makes it through these deceptions to the point of authentically deciding to quit, a profound sense of terror will arise at the prospect of relinquishing the addictive behaviour.(emphasis added) On the surface, the fear will seem reasonable; the addiction has become so much a part of the person's life that its relinquishment feels like death. But it is just another mind trick, another delaying tactic. The truth, of course, is that the person survived quite well before the addiction and could do so again."

~ from Addiction and Grace by Gerald May

Squirming

When dearest one asked me if I had blogged yet today I said,"no, I have nothing to say." He told me to write exactly that then. Silly man. Silly me. We make a good couple.

His bone scan is tomorrow morning (already!). That is good news.

Below is a quote from Christy's blog:

"Much as I would like to give the middle finger to 2,000 years of tradition, I still think there is something there. I don’t know if that’s faith or Stockholm syndrome."

You can read the rest of the post here.

Her honesty is refreshing. I'm trying to squirm away from looking Truth in the face in my life right now, so reading someone who writes with transparency is encouraging. Until I decide to stop my squirming, posts will be non existent I think.

Skimming the Surface

The family gathering was enjoyable. There were 50 of us in our yard enjoying coffee and goodies, visiting with one another. I realized later that a good deal of my enjoyment came because I was able to be myself. Perhaps there are moments in my life when I simply am who I was created to be. That makes me smile. It's been such a long time in the making. Or maybe it would be better said: I've been such a long time in the making. Not done by any stretch of the imagination, but moving forward.


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We had a medical resident attend to dearest one today at his doctor's appointment. She was an excellent listener and skilled at assessment. Dearest one is now being scheduled for a bone scan and they are looking into what kind of scan would work to get a close look at his abdominal wall as well. Not sure of the wait time for either scan but hopefully it won't be too long.

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A stop at a thrift store today paid off with two books. One by Geneen Roth and another by Henri Nouwen.


It's been a good day. Deeper thoughts another day.

A Hodge Podge of Thoughts

It's late Friday night. Insomnia rarely bothers me but it is tonight, so here I am. Dearest one is on holidays for 6 weeks and we've been acting like it. Late to bed, late to rise. I'm not sure when I am going to be completely free of feeling like a naughty kid, but it feels rather wonderful being free of shift schedules and what time it is, or even what day it is, for that matter.

I started writing my young adult novel this week. I was a bit frantic when I looked through my container full of journals and writing and couldn't find the notebook that held the outline of the first seven chapters. But thankfully I found it in the first place I looked, in the cave we call our closet. Whew.

So far the outlining is just plain fun. Asking as many "what if?" questions as I want to and figuring out how to get from A to B. It feels like a giant puzzle. The hard work will come later, but for now it feels like play. It's a bit like solving a mystery, too. The time I've spent writing blog posts has helped me to delete ideas when need be. I already let go of a path the book was taking in favour of a much more tension filled, plausible direction.

In preparation for working on this novel again, I read Terry Brooks' book on writing called Sometimes The Magic Works. It's one of the most realistic books about the craft of writing I've ever read. I haven't read any of his fiction but my kids are familiar with some of it.

I wish I had written down the name of the book that initially got me started outlining my novel. The author's advice was to take a book in the same genre that you are writing and dissect it chapter by chapter. Stuff like what is the ongoing dilemma and what is the chapter dilemma. I took one of my favourite children's books, The Nickel Plated Beauty by Patricia Beatty, and set to work. It is a wonderful story and it was easy to see the sequence of the book and how the author kept the story moving forward and what she did with the characters. It gave me hope that I could attempt a novel of my own.

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Dearest one's CT scan came back normal. That is good news. He has a doctor's appointment next week. Hopefully they will get it figured out soon. It's been 5 months now of discomfort, pain etc. He's pretty much lost his appetite and he can't afford to lose weight. We do bear a resemblance to Jack Sprat and his wife!

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This afternoon was partly spent entertaining our neighbour's young son. We got a taste of what grandparenthood might be like one day. It was rather fun. At supper time this little lad was trying to get the rice off the serving spoon and finally just stuck the whole spoon in his mouth. That did the trick. We could hardly keep from laughing. What a world of difference from the days of raising our own kids. (Sorry, kids!) Perspective. We might have learned some! When we went to pray before we ate, we held out our hands towards him. He's not used to praying before meals so he looked at our open hands and high-fived us both! We did chuckled over that. When he saw my bouquet of flowers he wanted to know if he could have some for his mom. I gladly divided it up so he could take some home to her. I thought that was pretty sweet for a 5 year old boy to think of his mom like that.

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This Sunday we will host almost all of dearest one's family for coffee. One of his sisters is here visiting with her adult daughter and two grandsons. When we are all together we are close to 50 people and having one family host the rest is the easiest way for her to see them all. I'm trying to save my spoons for that gathering. One of the things I have learned, since my health issues forced me to pick and choose what I spend my energy on, is how to let go of trying to impress anyone with my housework, etc. It took having a chronic illness to stop worrying that people will measure my worth by the state of my housekeeping. This is particularly huge when it comes to dearest one's family, where none of the married women work outside the home, and they are very skilled at homemaking and hospitality. I've learned a lot from observing them over the past 25 years. I think I've learned to stop measuring my own worth by how well I keep up the housework. That's more important than what others think.

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Below is the latest quote I printed out and stuck to the wall above my keyboard. I found it at Antony's blog, Coming To The Quiet. If you check out his blog you will find much food for thought.

"Your idea of me is fabricated with materials you have borrowed from other people and from yourself. What you think of me depends on what you think of yourself. Perhaps you create your idea of me out of material that you would like to eliminate from your own idea of yourself. Perhaps your idea of me is a reflection of what other people think of you. Or perhaps what you think of me is simply what you think I think of you.

~ Thomas Merton, No Man Is An Island

Telling The Truth

Twenty five years ago today dearest one and I met in person for the first time. He travelled from northern Alberta to the southern tip of Ontario to meet me. We had written to one another as penpals when I was 14 and he 16. Circumstances muddled things up for several years in between but when I was 19 and he 21, we met. That day is still crystal clear in my memory.

One of the things I did in preparation to meet him was go on a diet. My very first one. How I decided I needed to, I don't know, but diet I did. Enough that a friend commented on my (8 pound) weight loss. Funny how one comment like that can plant seeds of a negative kind. If I didn't think I had a weight problem before her comment then I surely thought I had one afterwards. This many years later I know that if someone notices you have lost 8 pounds, there really wasn't anything wrong with your before picture. With 80 extra pounds on my frame now, eight pounds seems like a pittance.

Earlier this summer, when I took the month of June away from blogging, I renewed my habit of journal writing. I've filled more pages in the last 3 months than I did in the previous eighteen. Journalling is similar to having one long album of before and after pictures. You get to see where you've been and where you're going. Within the last week or so I've noticed a reluctance to journal. Missed four days in a row to be precise. Missing days is a sign that something's brewing deep within me. Something I don't want to acknowledge. Never knowing what's going to come out the end of my pen when I start writing can be unnerving so, in order to keep a facade of serenity, I had to stop writing.

The only problem is that when I don't journal then I have to carry around those renegade thoughts and repress them. That takes energy. Yesterday I took up my pen and started to write. Here is what hit the page:

"There's a link between missing days in here and being out of control in other areas of my life. My eating is out of control. Twenty one days of abstinence (from sexual addiction) but my eating is wretched. I am lying to myself when it comes to food. I keep thinking that dealing with the other stuff is enough for now so food is my relief valve. It's the insanity of addiction in another area.
I feel like a two year old having a temper tantrum. I know I don't want to diet. I don't want to write down everything I eat. Yesterday though, I thought about the increasing risk of becoming diabetic and having to keep track of it all then and having to follow a rigid diet. Why do I feel so resisitent? Probably because I am unable to face this reality right now. For now I'm going to pray to become willing. Going to AA is teaching me to face other stuff in my life. I'm alternately glad/pissed off about that."

What I failed to write was that I didn't want to keep track of anything I ate because I want to eat mindlessly. I don't want to be aware when it comes to food. Being aware would demand action. It would be like wrestling my last lifeline away from me and leave me exposed and naked to the truth with no place to hide.

I've known I was sugar sensitive for many years already. Most (if not all) alcoholics are. Getting off of sugar has always been a good thing for me. During my blog sabbatical I returned to AA after an 8 year absence. At that first meeting one of the people said to a newly sober person, "If you come here you'll mess up your drinking. That's what happened to me. I started coming to meetings and it messed up my drinking." We all chuckled but we knew the absolute truth to that statement. And for me I immediately thought of my sugar sensitivity and said to myself "oh great, knowing something about sugar sensitivity messes up my eating too." Same principle, different addiction. I've followed the sugar sensitive program in the past and found relief from the insanity of being a binge eater. I know enough about sugar addiction to know that one bite of something sugary has a domino effect in my life. Although I haven't followed the program for several years, I have enough knowledge to recognize the daily cause and effect of sugar in my diet.

A few days ago I arrived at my AA meeting only to find it had been cancelled. At that moment the only other female member of my home group arrived too. We decided to go out for coffee. During our visit we shared bits and pieces of our history with one another. Through listening to my own words, telling her my story when it came to food, I clearly heard myself justifying my behaviour. Trying to further cover that up with words only made it worse. I might have been able to blot the conversation out of my mind had I been talking to a non addict, but talking with another addict in recovery made it more difficult to ignore. There came a point in our conversation when I realized that I could have substituted the word alcohol for food and been telling the same slippery story. I was glad when our coffee time came to an end.

I know how much I get pissed off when I hear someone lying to themselves. The urge to smack them upside the head is huge. "Wake up," I want to tell them, "You only get one go round at this thing called life." I see I've got my own waking up to do.

Yesterday after communion, when I knelt to pray, I told God I hadn't been hearing much from him lately. The reply I heard in my heart was that God was speaking to me through other people right now. "Ok, I could accept that," I said. So I started talking to God about my eating disorder. Praying those specific words, which have never come out of my mouth before, stopped me in my tracks. Tears came to the surface. I nearly felt like I had been tricked into praying them. There are times when praying spontaneously can seem as dangerous as journalling. You just never know what's going to come out of your mouth.

Wasn't it just a few short days ago when I wrote that facing the pain was worth it? Man, it sucks to eat one's words. It's the one thing I have no desire to binge on.

So now I pray for the courage to face what feels like my last escape hatch. In my head I know that facing the pain is always worth it in the end. But I am not always willing. I know I can do anything one day at a time, but some days I sure don't want to. With the healing I have experienced lately I am more comfortable in my body than I have ever been. It's more about being uncomfortable in my stinking thinking that's the problem. The outward is simply a manifestation of that thinking.

In my email every week I get a newsletter from the Radiant Recovery site. Many months ago, it might've been a year ago already, there was one newsletter where it said, "If you want what we have, do what we do." My initial thought was: "Piss off. Don't tell me what to do." But the words of the newsletter wouldn't stop reverberating in my head. Despite their continued presence, I kept searching for something that would make my path different, easier, without cost to myself. Something where I could have my cake and eat it, too. I never found it. I know now that the phrase "If you want what we have, do what we do" applies to any recovery process, regardless of the addiction.

This morning I picked up my pocket Thomas Merton and flipped to a random page. Here is what I read:

"We make ourselves real by telling the truth."

God continues to speak to me through other people.

Bad Kids

Another great quote from the masthead of Boar's Head Tvern:

"I think good preachers should be like bad kids. They ought to be naughty enough to tiptoe up on dozing congregations, steal their bottles of religion pills, spirituality pills, and morality pills, and flush them all down the drain. The church, by and large, has drugged itself into thinking that proper human behavior is the key to its relationship with God. What preachers need to do is force it to go cold turkey with nothing by the word of the cross - and then be brave enough to stick around while it goes through the inevitable withdrawal symptoms. But preachers can’t be naughty or brave unless they’re free of their own need for the dope of acceptance. And they won’t be free of their need until they can trust the God who has already accepted them, in advance and dead as doornails, in Jesus. -Robert Farrar Capon, The Foolishness of Preaching"

Something(s) To Be Glad About

A day with enough spoons to get done what needed to be done. I am grateful. Thank you for your prayers. No news on dearest one's CT scan and we are hoping no news is good news. Wish the need for pain killers wasn't so constant. He does too. So much so that he doesn't always take them, even though he needs them. Did I mention he is stubborn? A nice stubborn most of the time though. :)

Youngest son is moving into his own place today. That is truly something to celebrate. In the spring he moved in with his 15 year old girlfriend and her family. It was devastating. Many tears. Many prayers. To see him gaining his independence in a healthier way today is an answer to prayer.

It's been a good day.