If I sit very still the room doesn't spin.
Last night I crashed into the wall trying to walk.
Today is a bit better.
Not sure if it's my blood pressure taking a dive
again or what.
Youngest son drove me to my AA meeting this morning.
He didn't want to risk being a passegner
considering the combination of my dizzyness, nausea
and the steering wheel.
Me neither.
But he laughed as we headed into the bank,
me weaving a little as I walked.
Normally I would have missed my meeting.
But today I was celebrating
my 20th birthday in sobriety.
So youngest son told me if anyone thought I was
walking drunk
he'd just tell them I'd been 20 years without a drink
and was celebrating.
Yesterday I learned how to use the recording
equipment for the radio documentary.
I was encouraged by the producer to play with
it over the weekend.
Dearest one plugged in the microphone to play
and proceeded to chase me around the kitchen
with the microphone.
The sound of my laughter on the disk
was very pretty music.
Gravol is my temporary new best friend.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Floating In De Nile
The recording equipment arrived today in the mail to do my radio documentary. Tomorrow I'll have to fess up to the producer that I am equipment illiterate and take it from there. Thankfully dearest one loves gadgets of any kind and I think this equipment qualifies so if all else fails he can figure it out and teach me.
My day has been full. Today was my last scheduled appointment with my after treatment counselor. I feel like I have an adequate support system in place to get me through whatever life throws my way. Seeing to my spiritual life is the first priority of the day. With that intact when life throws me for a loop I've learned to call in the posse and with their experience, strength and hope have made it through some tough moments. It's not about staying strong in the rough spots but about telling the truth about how I feel about them. My counselor remains a phone call away and I told her today that I knew I could call if necessary and also knew that by the time I actually got an appointment to see her the crisis would be over. We laughed. There was a time not too long ago when I would have made the crisis last until the appointment because I didn't know what else to do. Today I do. Deal with it.
Next I had a doctor's appointment. When he asked me how I was I started to chuckle and he told me that was the wrong answer. I told him how tempted I often am to say, "help, my body's falling apart." We laughed. He listens differently since I've been to treatment. Treats me more holistically. Today I shared with him about doing the radio documentary. About how I'm telling the story of selling a bit of the family farm - that's been in the family nearly 90 years - and how conflicted I feel about my decision. I was telling him how the radio producer had poked and prodded until the story came out that I felt safe on that land. That across the road, where my grandparents and most of the 960 acres that encompassed the family farm were, felt predictable and safe. Home was unpredictable and scary. In the midst of that conversation my doctor said to me, "Selling the land is like the last step in the healing process. You don't need the land to feel safe anymore." Somehow I don't think they teach you that kind of reading between the lines in medical school.
You see I thought the story was going to be about selling the land, about the demise of the family farm. About betrayal of generational bequeathment. About selling out. Going into it I knew there was an underlying story of abuse and recovery but I didn't think it would surface. Had had only fleeting thoughts about whether selling the land was symbolic of moving forward. So when the underlying story surfaced the producer told me that's the real story. The one I need to tell.
Telling the story will be breaking every taboo I was raised with. Especially the one where my mother said to my face, "What goes on in this house, stays in this house." And here I am preparing to tell on national radio. Someone asked me tonight if there was a way to prepare my family for the real story to be told; but how do you warn someone of something they are in denial about?
So I'm trusting that God will make clear a way to honour my journey without running roughshod over my parents. A way to honour my journey without trying to shelter them from my reality. A way to be gracious and honest.
I trust that telling my story will not smack of selling out in any way, shape or form.
And that body of mine that's falling apart?
As of today it's 47 pounds lighter since I stopped bingeing.
Not sure what parts I've lost but them there's a falling going on.
My day has been full. Today was my last scheduled appointment with my after treatment counselor. I feel like I have an adequate support system in place to get me through whatever life throws my way. Seeing to my spiritual life is the first priority of the day. With that intact when life throws me for a loop I've learned to call in the posse and with their experience, strength and hope have made it through some tough moments. It's not about staying strong in the rough spots but about telling the truth about how I feel about them. My counselor remains a phone call away and I told her today that I knew I could call if necessary and also knew that by the time I actually got an appointment to see her the crisis would be over. We laughed. There was a time not too long ago when I would have made the crisis last until the appointment because I didn't know what else to do. Today I do. Deal with it.
Next I had a doctor's appointment. When he asked me how I was I started to chuckle and he told me that was the wrong answer. I told him how tempted I often am to say, "help, my body's falling apart." We laughed. He listens differently since I've been to treatment. Treats me more holistically. Today I shared with him about doing the radio documentary. About how I'm telling the story of selling a bit of the family farm - that's been in the family nearly 90 years - and how conflicted I feel about my decision. I was telling him how the radio producer had poked and prodded until the story came out that I felt safe on that land. That across the road, where my grandparents and most of the 960 acres that encompassed the family farm were, felt predictable and safe. Home was unpredictable and scary. In the midst of that conversation my doctor said to me, "Selling the land is like the last step in the healing process. You don't need the land to feel safe anymore." Somehow I don't think they teach you that kind of reading between the lines in medical school.
You see I thought the story was going to be about selling the land, about the demise of the family farm. About betrayal of generational bequeathment. About selling out. Going into it I knew there was an underlying story of abuse and recovery but I didn't think it would surface. Had had only fleeting thoughts about whether selling the land was symbolic of moving forward. So when the underlying story surfaced the producer told me that's the real story. The one I need to tell.
Telling the story will be breaking every taboo I was raised with. Especially the one where my mother said to my face, "What goes on in this house, stays in this house." And here I am preparing to tell on national radio. Someone asked me tonight if there was a way to prepare my family for the real story to be told; but how do you warn someone of something they are in denial about?
So I'm trusting that God will make clear a way to honour my journey without running roughshod over my parents. A way to honour my journey without trying to shelter them from my reality. A way to be gracious and honest.
I trust that telling my story will not smack of selling out in any way, shape or form.
And that body of mine that's falling apart?
As of today it's 47 pounds lighter since I stopped bingeing.
Not sure what parts I've lost but them there's a falling going on.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Stretching Hope
"As I sat in centering prayer this morning the image of being held, of resting in the womb of God came to me. That no matter how vigorously I stretch and push against its walls I remain safe in the womb. So struggle away, Hope, struggle away."~ journal entry March 18/08
"As I listen to the gospel for today and hear how Jesus gives John his mother and how John welcomed her into his home I sit here and wonder what it means to welcome her into my home. They ask what we want to say to Jesus as he hangs on the cross and all that comes to me is "remember me in your kingdom." Without his mercy we are without hope." ~ journal entry March 21/08
"As I listen to the gospel for today and hear how Jesus gives John his mother and how John welcomed her into his home I sit here and wonder what it means to welcome her into my home. They ask what we want to say to Jesus as he hangs on the cross and all that comes to me is "remember me in your kingdom." Without his mercy we are without hope." ~ journal entry March 21/08
Monday, March 17, 2008
Tread Softly
It's been the most draining of days. I feel if I bent my head and looked into a pond of water I'd see tears streaming down my face even though there are none on the surface. My body is carrying it's mourning around with it. I find grief work hard. Maybe I need to simply acknowledge all the hard, hard work I've done in the past 7 months and let those healing tears flow.
I had a counseling appointment this morning. Turning in pages of homework dealing with control and losing control felt wretched. Facing my emotions around that stuff is scary. A loss of control of its very own. Every time I looked at the homework this past week I felt anxious and wanted to run screaming from the room. Eventually I did what I could and shared it with my counselor. I left with the remaining 30+ pages to read and fill out. I can do this but there are times when I wonder what the hell I've got myself into. There's this saying in AA that goes, When you know better, you do better. Well. Some days I'd like to crawl back into the hole of not knowing better if only to soothe myself into oblivion for a moment or two and then re-emerge and keep going forward. The only problem with that solution is the moment or two turns into a decade or more in a blink of an eye and I'm so not going there, God help me.
So tonight as I was headed to the pantry to make myself a bag of microwave popcorn I kept right on walking and picked up the phone and called my sponsor. Thank God for sponsors. As I shared how desperately I just wanted to self medicate the wanting to softened it's grip on me. Then I was able to breathe and do the next right thing.
This afternoon I had the phone interview with a producer about my mini radio documentary. It left me feeling so vulnerable. He is good at what he does. Which is look for the story beneath the story. He found it. Shit. To do this piece with any integrity and to own my story within it, I'm going to have to navigate through a family mine field.
I feel like beating my fists against God's chest.
And swearing.
Underpinning it all
is my belief that
I'm right where I need to be on the journey.
Today my counselor pictured the phrase
losing control
as a ring of fire
surrounding me.
It wouldn't be so bad except that my gut instinct says that walking through the mine field of don't talk and don't feel is going to bring a greater peace in the long run than any other option. I just hadn't bargained doing it on national radio.
Fighting demons
is hard work.
I had a counseling appointment this morning. Turning in pages of homework dealing with control and losing control felt wretched. Facing my emotions around that stuff is scary. A loss of control of its very own. Every time I looked at the homework this past week I felt anxious and wanted to run screaming from the room. Eventually I did what I could and shared it with my counselor. I left with the remaining 30+ pages to read and fill out. I can do this but there are times when I wonder what the hell I've got myself into. There's this saying in AA that goes, When you know better, you do better. Well. Some days I'd like to crawl back into the hole of not knowing better if only to soothe myself into oblivion for a moment or two and then re-emerge and keep going forward. The only problem with that solution is the moment or two turns into a decade or more in a blink of an eye and I'm so not going there, God help me.
So tonight as I was headed to the pantry to make myself a bag of microwave popcorn I kept right on walking and picked up the phone and called my sponsor. Thank God for sponsors. As I shared how desperately I just wanted to self medicate the wanting to softened it's grip on me. Then I was able to breathe and do the next right thing.
This afternoon I had the phone interview with a producer about my mini radio documentary. It left me feeling so vulnerable. He is good at what he does. Which is look for the story beneath the story. He found it. Shit. To do this piece with any integrity and to own my story within it, I'm going to have to navigate through a family mine field.
I feel like beating my fists against God's chest.
And swearing.
Underpinning it all
is my belief that
I'm right where I need to be on the journey.
Today my counselor pictured the phrase
losing control
as a ring of fire
surrounding me.
It wouldn't be so bad except that my gut instinct says that walking through the mine field of don't talk and don't feel is going to bring a greater peace in the long run than any other option. I just hadn't bargained doing it on national radio.
Fighting demons
is hard work.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Compassionate Energy
It's 8 pm and I'm just getting online. What can I say, it was the Brier in Canada today and I am a fan. Did you know I'm the sports fan in our home? I always feel weird about that but that's the way it is. Dearest one grew up in a home where TV was evil and worldly so he missed early initiation rites for Hockey Night In Canada and the Grey Cup and the Brier. I didn't.
We were up early and headed into town for Passion Sunday Mass. Dearest one and youngest son have been house sitting this past week and today it's my turn. This was my first experience of Passion Sunday in a large church. It's the weirdest thing to go from a little church of perhaps 10 people on a Sunday to a church where there are over 500 people at Mass. I don't much like it. After that I went to a different AA meeting. There again going to a meeting where there were perhaps 30+ people where the regular meeting I go to usually has 5 people. How can you tell I like small and comfortable and within my safety net better than big and uncomfortable and out of comfort zone?
My pitch for the radio documentary was accepted this past week so that was definitely the highlight of my week. I jumped up and down and hurt my back a little bit in the celebrating. But it really was a good thing to express physically what I was feeling in my heart. I have 45 years of suppressing joy of any kind lest it leak out and I look like an idiot. The energizer bunny was the only one to see me jump up and down and shout. She just put her ears back and looked like she wanted to hide in a "No, I don't know this person" kind of way. This program receives 1000 pitches a year and accepts about 150 so I feel validated and honoured. And scared. I like coming up with ideas better than making them a reality so this is going to be interesting. I am confident though that I can do it. Tomorrow I have an hour long phone conversation with the producer and then the fun begins. Recording equipment will arrive somehow to my little house in the boondocks and we'll take it from there. I will let you know when this piece goes to air but only through email. The documentary will be 13 mintes at best so this will be my real live 13 minutes of fame yet I want to retain my blogger anonymity, too.
Lent is nearly over. Not sure what I've gleaned this year but it's felt like a good Lent. I simply know I'm growing but would be hard pressed to say exactly how. There's something very peaceful about operating from a core of self compassion instead of self loathing. That that is my reality feels humbling and miraculous. Thanks be to God.
We were up early and headed into town for Passion Sunday Mass. Dearest one and youngest son have been house sitting this past week and today it's my turn. This was my first experience of Passion Sunday in a large church. It's the weirdest thing to go from a little church of perhaps 10 people on a Sunday to a church where there are over 500 people at Mass. I don't much like it. After that I went to a different AA meeting. There again going to a meeting where there were perhaps 30+ people where the regular meeting I go to usually has 5 people. How can you tell I like small and comfortable and within my safety net better than big and uncomfortable and out of comfort zone?
My pitch for the radio documentary was accepted this past week so that was definitely the highlight of my week. I jumped up and down and hurt my back a little bit in the celebrating. But it really was a good thing to express physically what I was feeling in my heart. I have 45 years of suppressing joy of any kind lest it leak out and I look like an idiot. The energizer bunny was the only one to see me jump up and down and shout. She just put her ears back and looked like she wanted to hide in a "No, I don't know this person" kind of way. This program receives 1000 pitches a year and accepts about 150 so I feel validated and honoured. And scared. I like coming up with ideas better than making them a reality so this is going to be interesting. I am confident though that I can do it. Tomorrow I have an hour long phone conversation with the producer and then the fun begins. Recording equipment will arrive somehow to my little house in the boondocks and we'll take it from there. I will let you know when this piece goes to air but only through email. The documentary will be 13 mintes at best so this will be my real live 13 minutes of fame yet I want to retain my blogger anonymity, too.
Lent is nearly over. Not sure what I've gleaned this year but it's felt like a good Lent. I simply know I'm growing but would be hard pressed to say exactly how. There's something very peaceful about operating from a core of self compassion instead of self loathing. That that is my reality feels humbling and miraculous. Thanks be to God.
Sunday, March 09, 2008
Without Your Mercy
This is my 8th day in a row online. That's how well that is going. Tomorrow is another day. Another chance to walk away from the computer. Even if it's only 10 minutes online a day, it feels like a fix of some kind.
I sent off my pitch to Outfront this week. That felt good. I've been able to figure out a magazine I can pitch the same story to as well. Yesterday there was a poster at the library for a session with the writer in residence, a new venture for the library, and one that sure works for me. She'll be available for consults for 2 months and I plan on seeing her. I'm feeling ready to take another crack at writing a book. Fear of failure is really what's kept me from it thus far. Writing here has helped me gain some confidence.
I had an appointment with Fr. Charlie this week, the first one since November. Our sessions have moved from counseling to spiritual direction. It is a comfort to spend time with someone who has seen me in the gutter and kept on believing, when I couldn't, that I wouldn't always feel mired in shame. Experiencing the Sacrament of Reconciliation this week had a particular sweetness to it.
Here are bits from my journal:
The two disciplines that I'd hoped to start during Lent complement each other. The yoga has been relaxing. Working up a sweat doing yoga has come as a bit of a surprise. The discipline of centering prayer has been a good antidote for my waning affair with perfectionism. As Thomas Keating says, "the only thing you can do wrong in this prayer is to get up and walk out."
I sent off my pitch to Outfront this week. That felt good. I've been able to figure out a magazine I can pitch the same story to as well. Yesterday there was a poster at the library for a session with the writer in residence, a new venture for the library, and one that sure works for me. She'll be available for consults for 2 months and I plan on seeing her. I'm feeling ready to take another crack at writing a book. Fear of failure is really what's kept me from it thus far. Writing here has helped me gain some confidence.
I had an appointment with Fr. Charlie this week, the first one since November. Our sessions have moved from counseling to spiritual direction. It is a comfort to spend time with someone who has seen me in the gutter and kept on believing, when I couldn't, that I wouldn't always feel mired in shame. Experiencing the Sacrament of Reconciliation this week had a particular sweetness to it.
Here are bits from my journal:
"Perhaps facing my feelings and letting them stay surfaced will one day be a non issue. So far it's still a lot of work." ~March 4/08
"Last night when I came home it was a clear starry night. I looked up at the stars and said, "wow" several times. I never get tired of their beauty." ~March 6/08
"Without Your mercy we would have no hope." ~March 7/08
"During my time of centering prayer I got a picture of opening my heart to God. Then I remembered how the statue of the Sacred Heart of Jesus at church has made me picture my chest open, my heart exosed and touching the heart of Jesus. Today I understood that opening my heart would make it possible for Jesus to envelop it." ~ March 7/08
"Yesterday's scripture reading was about Jesus at the feast of Tabernacles and how the people wanted to arrest him but couldn't lay a hand on him because his hour had not yet come. I thought about the possibility that if no one could harm Jesus because it wasn't God's will then maybe I could stop worrying that some tragedy is going to befall me and cut my life short. Trust. Do I trust God enough to rest instead of wrestle?" ~ March 8/08
The two disciplines that I'd hoped to start during Lent complement each other. The yoga has been relaxing. Working up a sweat doing yoga has come as a bit of a surprise. The discipline of centering prayer has been a good antidote for my waning affair with perfectionism. As Thomas Keating says, "the only thing you can do wrong in this prayer is to get up and walk out."
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Bits and Pieces
Yesterday I thought I knew what I'd write here today but whatever my idea was it's vanished. So I leave you with a few quotes I've read this past week and bits of journal entries of my own:
"Bravery is the being the only one who knows you are afraid." ~ Franklin P. Jones
"In God's economy nothing is wasted. Through failure, we learn a lesson in humility which is probably needed, painful though it is." ~ As Bill Sees It (AA daily book)
"To be plagued our whole life long by temptation, failure, sin and brokenness is not necessarily a bad thing. In fact, it can be our saving grace as human beings. In our failures we are brought to humility, and to discover our need for God. In the particular way that pain and fear has taken shape in us, we have a way of opening ourselves to human and diving love. It is through our wounds that we may be touched deeply. In our vulnerability, our lack of control, we can be open to our need for God and other people." ~ Brian C. Taylor in Spirituality, Contemplation and Transformation
"I've been reading Thomas Merton this morning. What spoke to me above all was my need to accept where I'm at as a precursor to moving forward. If I reject what is then my growth will be a work of the ego instead of the soul. Where I'm at, in the fullness of my humanity, is okay, is necessary. Gentle be." ~ journal entry Feb 26/08
"This journey is not about liking the 'new' me better but about liking the me that is at any given moment." ~ journal entry Feb 29/08
"As I was eating lunch I thought about the potato chips in the cupboard. I thought about how I wanted to feel my feelings more than I want to numb them. Which made me think of the intensity of my feelings while watching only daughter's play. I wonder if actually feeling them and not rejecting, avoiding or numbing them made a breakthrough possible. My feelings won't kill me." ~ journal entry Feb. 29/08
"Bravery is the being the only one who knows you are afraid." ~ Franklin P. Jones
"In God's economy nothing is wasted. Through failure, we learn a lesson in humility which is probably needed, painful though it is." ~ As Bill Sees It (AA daily book)
"To be plagued our whole life long by temptation, failure, sin and brokenness is not necessarily a bad thing. In fact, it can be our saving grace as human beings. In our failures we are brought to humility, and to discover our need for God. In the particular way that pain and fear has taken shape in us, we have a way of opening ourselves to human and diving love. It is through our wounds that we may be touched deeply. In our vulnerability, our lack of control, we can be open to our need for God and other people." ~ Brian C. Taylor in Spirituality, Contemplation and Transformation
"I've been reading Thomas Merton this morning. What spoke to me above all was my need to accept where I'm at as a precursor to moving forward. If I reject what is then my growth will be a work of the ego instead of the soul. Where I'm at, in the fullness of my humanity, is okay, is necessary. Gentle be." ~ journal entry Feb 26/08
"This journey is not about liking the 'new' me better but about liking the me that is at any given moment." ~ journal entry Feb 29/08
"As I was eating lunch I thought about the potato chips in the cupboard. I thought about how I wanted to feel my feelings more than I want to numb them. Which made me think of the intensity of my feelings while watching only daughter's play. I wonder if actually feeling them and not rejecting, avoiding or numbing them made a breakthrough possible. My feelings won't kill me." ~ journal entry Feb. 29/08
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Insanity
Driving 900 miles round trip in two days is one definition of insanity.
Which is what we spent the last two days doing.
As a result I'm too tired to write anything coherent so next Sunday will have to do.
Being offline has been good for me.
Which is what we spent the last two days doing.
As a result I'm too tired to write anything coherent so next Sunday will have to do.
Being offline has been good for me.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Praying
Sunday.
All week I could hardly wait.
Well, except when I didn't.
I was like a kid
counting how many sleeps
were left.
The last few days I've been
listening to Joe and Charlie give
these talks.
Over 9 hours worth of sharing.
Pure sweet gift.
Dearest one came home Friday
and interrupted my listening time.
Disgruntled that I had to stop
to make supper
I made excuses as to my mood.
As I stood at the stove and stirred
the Spirit stirred within me.
In a flash I saw my selfishness
for what it was
and stopped making excuses.
Seeing how bugged I was that
real life was interrupting my
desire to be more
of who God wants me to be
made me laugh at myself.
Pure sweet gift.
Yesterday morning I prayed
the 3rd step prayer
with a renewed hunger.
What before was simply words
became words from the gut
intermingled with wrenching sobs.
Spirit descends,
heart responds.
Pure sweet gift.
Later I went to my AA meeting.
Eventually the chairperson
asked me to read the promises
Out of nowhere,
or perhaps from my gut,
came more tears.
Breathe, gulp, read.
Someone passed me the kleenex.
When the Spirit moves
among us at a meeting it's
as if time stands still.
It's gets so quiet.
The reality that we're being
nourished by
the Spirit
instead of nursing
a hangover
is lost on none of us.
To be loved in brokenness
Pure sweet gift.
When it was my turn to share
I felt overwhelmed with gratitude
that God would work in my life
and bring about such change.
Through tears I shared.
In return
Nods of agreement.
Looks of recognition.
Sweet, sweet grace.
Afterwards my sponsor
and I met for lunch.
"What's up,"
she asked.
So we talked.
Me first then
she shared her journey with me
and in her sharing
I see myself.
I cry some more
and in a public place
I let the tears become sobs.
She looks at me and
tells me I'm fortunate
to be able to feel those tears.
And I recognize them as the
pure sweet gift they are.
In 2000
the Year of the Jubilee
Sister Doreen told me
as I sat crying
that tears were a form of prayer.
Freedom
through
prayer.
Pure
sweet
gift.
All week I could hardly wait.
Well, except when I didn't.
I was like a kid
counting how many sleeps
were left.
The last few days I've been
listening to Joe and Charlie give
these talks.
Over 9 hours worth of sharing.
Pure sweet gift.
Dearest one came home Friday
and interrupted my listening time.
Disgruntled that I had to stop
to make supper
I made excuses as to my mood.
As I stood at the stove and stirred
the Spirit stirred within me.
In a flash I saw my selfishness
for what it was
and stopped making excuses.
Seeing how bugged I was that
real life was interrupting my
desire to be more
of who God wants me to be
made me laugh at myself.
Pure sweet gift.
Yesterday morning I prayed
the 3rd step prayer
with a renewed hunger.
What before was simply words
became words from the gut
intermingled with wrenching sobs.
Spirit descends,
heart responds.
Pure sweet gift.
Later I went to my AA meeting.
Eventually the chairperson
asked me to read the promises
Out of nowhere,
or perhaps from my gut,
came more tears.
Breathe, gulp, read.
Someone passed me the kleenex.
When the Spirit moves
among us at a meeting it's
as if time stands still.
It's gets so quiet.
The reality that we're being
nourished by
the Spirit
instead of nursing
a hangover
is lost on none of us.
To be loved in brokenness
Pure sweet gift.
When it was my turn to share
I felt overwhelmed with gratitude
that God would work in my life
and bring about such change.
Through tears I shared.
In return
Nods of agreement.
Looks of recognition.
Sweet, sweet grace.
Afterwards my sponsor
and I met for lunch.
"What's up,"
she asked.
So we talked.
Me first then
she shared her journey with me
and in her sharing
I see myself.
I cry some more
and in a public place
I let the tears become sobs.
She looks at me and
tells me I'm fortunate
to be able to feel those tears.
And I recognize them as the
pure sweet gift they are.
In 2000
the Year of the Jubilee
Sister Doreen told me
as I sat crying
that tears were a form of prayer.
Freedom
through
prayer.
Pure
sweet
gift.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Really Really
I feel like I'm tiptoeing in here trying not to get caught. Did you know typing could feel like that? The resident Energizer Bunny is resting her head in the crook of my arm. I have to keep typing hold the pose or else I'll be in withdrawal her head will fall down and we'll have to start over.
I am such an addict.
As soon as I typed that sentence my internet connection failed. When I reconnected the page froze. When I tried to reboot the whole thing the computer refused to even turn on. I think God has more important things to do than try and micromanage my life when I'm in the midst of breaking my Lenten fast, don't you?
Yesterday I came online to print out something I wanted to take to my counseling session tomorrow. It took less than five minutes tops. Really. It did occur to me that dearest one could print it out for me at work but I quickly dismissed that idea. Too much work. Ha. It didn't stop me asking him to download a zip file which took an hour.
Today I turned on the computer to write some more on a radio proposal. As I did I thought about posting because it's our 26th wedding anniversary and I wanted to note that here. Not that I couldn't pick up the phone and say Happy Anniversary to dearest one again if I wanted. That would be too easy.
First I tell myself I need to go online so the daily anti virus can update. The very anti virus that I go days at a time without updating when it's not Lent. Then I decide I need to do some research. Something official. So I'm merrily researching some info for the proposal. Research names of Sharon Butala's books. Check. Found the library has the copies I need. Try to find lyrics to a song about the prairies and immigrants. Not so lucky.
Oh, let's just look around while I'm here I tell myself. I hop, skip and jump my way through email, bloglines and facebook. 27 minutes later I find myself logging into blogger to post this. We only have dial up - does that count? That's when the connection failed. The page froze. The computer would not turn on.
I'll tip toe my way back out of here now.
Saint Isidore of Seville pray for me.
He took some research to find.
I'm just saying.
I am such an addict.
As soon as I typed that sentence my internet connection failed. When I reconnected the page froze. When I tried to reboot the whole thing the computer refused to even turn on. I think God has more important things to do than try and micromanage my life when I'm in the midst of breaking my Lenten fast, don't you?
Yesterday I came online to print out something I wanted to take to my counseling session tomorrow. It took less than five minutes tops. Really. It did occur to me that dearest one could print it out for me at work but I quickly dismissed that idea. Too much work. Ha. It didn't stop me asking him to download a zip file which took an hour.
Today I turned on the computer to write some more on a radio proposal. As I did I thought about posting because it's our 26th wedding anniversary and I wanted to note that here. Not that I couldn't pick up the phone and say Happy Anniversary to dearest one again if I wanted. That would be too easy.
First I tell myself I need to go online so the daily anti virus can update. The very anti virus that I go days at a time without updating when it's not Lent. Then I decide I need to do some research. Something official. So I'm merrily researching some info for the proposal. Research names of Sharon Butala's books. Check. Found the library has the copies I need. Try to find lyrics to a song about the prairies and immigrants. Not so lucky.
Oh, let's just look around while I'm here I tell myself. I hop, skip and jump my way through email, bloglines and facebook. 27 minutes later I find myself logging into blogger to post this. We only have dial up - does that count? That's when the connection failed. The page froze. The computer would not turn on.
I'll tip toe my way back out of here now.
Saint Isidore of Seville pray for me.
He took some research to find.
I'm just saying.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Progress
Energizer Bunny is trying to lick the keyboard. Maybe she's thanking it for not taking over my life the last 4 days. There's really not room for her to relax in any comfy way between me and the computer. Eventually she'll rest her head between my hands as I type, her nose in position to blow the dust away. Gotta love a pug.
It's been good being away from the computer.
The best part of my week was going to my AA meeting and having a newcomer there. A young man who dissolved into tears as he read the promises aloud. Sobbed. We were few in numbers; it was a privilege to share with him my experience, strength and hope. It was a privilege to see hope and relief in his eyes as we all shared with him and listened as he shared in return. One old timer kicked his butt good. I'm often scared when that happens, worried that it will turn the newcomer off. This guy though was really telling him the truth. The young man left with several phone numbers of memers to call and was urged to phone before he took the first drink.
The weather's been too cold to go out much. We were back down to -57C with windchill sometime yesterday but today the high is -18C and tomorrow is supposed to be +2C. Thank God for chinooks.
My friend who reccomended the yoga video told me that sometimes people cry when they do yoga. I've done the yoga video once and the final pose felt so peaceful. Tears welled up. They kept flowing over and I let them. It felt weird yet good.
I'm choosing to celebrate every little step forward I make when it comes to self care. Yesterday was better than it has been. Today is off to a good start as well. That's progress.
I'll take it.
It's been good being away from the computer.
The best part of my week was going to my AA meeting and having a newcomer there. A young man who dissolved into tears as he read the promises aloud. Sobbed. We were few in numbers; it was a privilege to share with him my experience, strength and hope. It was a privilege to see hope and relief in his eyes as we all shared with him and listened as he shared in return. One old timer kicked his butt good. I'm often scared when that happens, worried that it will turn the newcomer off. This guy though was really telling him the truth. The young man left with several phone numbers of memers to call and was urged to phone before he took the first drink.
The weather's been too cold to go out much. We were back down to -57C with windchill sometime yesterday but today the high is -18C and tomorrow is supposed to be +2C. Thank God for chinooks.
My friend who reccomended the yoga video told me that sometimes people cry when they do yoga. I've done the yoga video once and the final pose felt so peaceful. Tears welled up. They kept flowing over and I let them. It felt weird yet good.
I'm choosing to celebrate every little step forward I make when it comes to self care. Yesterday was better than it has been. Today is off to a good start as well. That's progress.
I'll take it.
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
Catch Ya Later
Well, tomorrow is Ash Wednesday so this will be my last post until Sunday.
I think my house will be a whole lot cleaner by the time Easter comes along.
I think my house will be a whole lot cleaner by the time Easter comes along.
Sunday, February 03, 2008
All Shall Be Well
It's been draining weekend. I think this is the last night of a week straight of overnight lows mostly in the -30's and 40's. Then there was the day when it was -55C when they factored in the windchill. Tomorrow they are forecasting reaching a high of -19C and that's more than welcome. bobbie said to me last week, "Tell me again why you live there?"
Dearest one and I went to town yesterday to buy groceries. We were sadly overdue to restock our cupboards. It was a blessing to be able to do it so freely. It's been three and a half years since we were on welfare and using the foodbank and I still marvel at the privilege of going and buying groceries without having to pick between toilet paper and milk. I hope I never take it for granted.
At our little church in the boonies we arrived today to find the furnace has been going out on and off all week. Most likely the propane has been gelling in the cold. Did you know propane gelled when it got too cold? Everyone took it in stride when I did the first and second readings with scarf and mitts still on. I took my mitts off during communion and then put them right back on. There are frozen pipes in the basement and a pressure pump that will need replacing. Such is life in the frozen north.
Just a few days until Lent begins. I've decided to forego blogging except on Sundays during Lent. I'm actually going to be giving up all internet use except on Sundays for the duration. That is probably the hardest thing for me to fast from. I spend several hours a day on the computer. Lent is a time for deepening conversion with attention to prayer, fasting and almsgiving. Our priest is from India and he shared today several of the traditions he grew up with. One was how during Lent, before the daily rice was put in the pot, the youngest member of the family would take a handful of rice and set it aside. For the full 40 days this would be done and then on Good Friday every family brought their rice to the church and had the priest bless it. Then the poor of the community would receive this rice. He also shared that every family had a clay pot with a slit in it for money to be put in but no hole on the bottom for it to come out. Throughout Lent they would sacrificially put money in the pot and then after Easter Vigil all the pots would be collected and broken open. He said the parish had 5 to 6 thousand families in it and the money would be counted and then sent to a charity that distributed help to the poor. He emphasised that it wasn't the amount of money or rice but the intent of the heart.
I had a difficult conversation with my older sister yesterday. We are both going to only daughter's final project and she offered that I could catch a ride home with her and my dad for a visit. We live 8 hours north of only daughter and they live 5 hours east. I told her I didn't know if now would be a good time in light of homework I recently completed for my counseling surrounding the sexual abuse I experienced as a child. My parents still live in my childhood home and this would be the first time I'd go home without my brick walls of numbed feelings in place. I'm learning to speak my truth and in doing so I'm pushing up against ingrained patterns which is difficult for my sister. At one point she said to me, "why can't you come home and pretend like we've always done - that our family is normal? I told her I was past that. This was after she suggested that I get my counselor to give me homework to do while I was at home. I told her I wouldn't do that, couldn't chance it when I would be without my support group around me. It was a painful conversation. The worst was when she suggested I phone my older brother and suggest he meet us there as well. That it would be an opportunity for him to support only daughter, too. I couldn't tell her that only daughter's final project was a play based on the warped messages I gave her about sexuality while she was growing up. A play where only daughter works through those messages and finds some peace while the mother relives the memory of a rape. My sister distances herself when I talk about my pain of being molested. By the brother she thinks would be a great addition to the family reunion. I couldn't comprehend being in the same room as him while watching this play. I couldn't tell my sister why I couldn't phone him about it because I didn't want to take the chance of her minimizing my story. I hung up the phone and cried. I told dearest one that I was fighting the lie that I was a bad person for taking the lid off of family secrets, off the stuff we were never supposed to talk about. I fought against feeling like I was a bitch for speaking my truth. For not smoothing things over so she would feel more comfortable.
As luck would have it there is a great seat sale on right now so that it's affordable for me to travel back with them by car and then fly home later. I'm glad I don't have to make the decision today.
I woke up this morning spoonless. Not surprising, but still disappointing. Doing good self care feels like it requires the energy needed for mountain climbing. I've heard it said many times at meetings: What I'm doing isn't working so something needs to change. For me that means molding my day around doing basic self care. Dressed and showered. Eat 3 healthy meals. Drink enough water. Journal. Exercise. Prayer and meditation. I've gotten sloppy with all of it. Anything I accomplish above and beyond self care will be a bonus.
Lent will be a welcome opportunity to reflect, to pay attention to the littlest of disciplines that help my days be more peace filled. Often I get derailed as I walk past the computer on my way to eat breakfast. One brief "oh, I'll just check my email" ends up with me realizing hours later that it's midmorning or lunch time and I'm still in my pjs. Two new disciplines I'd hoped to begin this year were yoga and centering prayer. The resources to learn them came in the mail on Friday so they will be part of my Lenten routine. Both disciplines have been calling to me for a while and I'm willing to take the time to soak them both in and hopefully incorporate them into my self care routine.
I thought this weekend about my next counseling session. I envisioned walking in and asking my counselor if she wanted the good stuff or the bad first. Then I realized however challenging, however painful this past while has been, in reality, it's all good stuff. All necessary for deepening conversion. Every time I receive the Eucharist I ask Christ to transform me. Fr. Charlie keeps encouraging me that when we speak our truth the ripple effect of it is that our families experience transformation, too.
Dearest one questioned the healthiness of putting myself in harm's way. For speaking my truth and dealing with the consequences when I could've just kept my mouth shut and avoided the pain. I told him I was convinced that speaking my truth will only get easier as I practice doing it. That one day I will be able to have the same conversation with my sister and not end up in tears over it. That wounds can be healed. That transformation can happen. That, in the end, as Julian of Norwich says:
Dearest one and I went to town yesterday to buy groceries. We were sadly overdue to restock our cupboards. It was a blessing to be able to do it so freely. It's been three and a half years since we were on welfare and using the foodbank and I still marvel at the privilege of going and buying groceries without having to pick between toilet paper and milk. I hope I never take it for granted.
At our little church in the boonies we arrived today to find the furnace has been going out on and off all week. Most likely the propane has been gelling in the cold. Did you know propane gelled when it got too cold? Everyone took it in stride when I did the first and second readings with scarf and mitts still on. I took my mitts off during communion and then put them right back on. There are frozen pipes in the basement and a pressure pump that will need replacing. Such is life in the frozen north.
Just a few days until Lent begins. I've decided to forego blogging except on Sundays during Lent. I'm actually going to be giving up all internet use except on Sundays for the duration. That is probably the hardest thing for me to fast from. I spend several hours a day on the computer. Lent is a time for deepening conversion with attention to prayer, fasting and almsgiving. Our priest is from India and he shared today several of the traditions he grew up with. One was how during Lent, before the daily rice was put in the pot, the youngest member of the family would take a handful of rice and set it aside. For the full 40 days this would be done and then on Good Friday every family brought their rice to the church and had the priest bless it. Then the poor of the community would receive this rice. He also shared that every family had a clay pot with a slit in it for money to be put in but no hole on the bottom for it to come out. Throughout Lent they would sacrificially put money in the pot and then after Easter Vigil all the pots would be collected and broken open. He said the parish had 5 to 6 thousand families in it and the money would be counted and then sent to a charity that distributed help to the poor. He emphasised that it wasn't the amount of money or rice but the intent of the heart.
I had a difficult conversation with my older sister yesterday. We are both going to only daughter's final project and she offered that I could catch a ride home with her and my dad for a visit. We live 8 hours north of only daughter and they live 5 hours east. I told her I didn't know if now would be a good time in light of homework I recently completed for my counseling surrounding the sexual abuse I experienced as a child. My parents still live in my childhood home and this would be the first time I'd go home without my brick walls of numbed feelings in place. I'm learning to speak my truth and in doing so I'm pushing up against ingrained patterns which is difficult for my sister. At one point she said to me, "why can't you come home and pretend like we've always done - that our family is normal? I told her I was past that. This was after she suggested that I get my counselor to give me homework to do while I was at home. I told her I wouldn't do that, couldn't chance it when I would be without my support group around me. It was a painful conversation. The worst was when she suggested I phone my older brother and suggest he meet us there as well. That it would be an opportunity for him to support only daughter, too. I couldn't tell her that only daughter's final project was a play based on the warped messages I gave her about sexuality while she was growing up. A play where only daughter works through those messages and finds some peace while the mother relives the memory of a rape. My sister distances herself when I talk about my pain of being molested. By the brother she thinks would be a great addition to the family reunion. I couldn't comprehend being in the same room as him while watching this play. I couldn't tell my sister why I couldn't phone him about it because I didn't want to take the chance of her minimizing my story. I hung up the phone and cried. I told dearest one that I was fighting the lie that I was a bad person for taking the lid off of family secrets, off the stuff we were never supposed to talk about. I fought against feeling like I was a bitch for speaking my truth. For not smoothing things over so she would feel more comfortable.
As luck would have it there is a great seat sale on right now so that it's affordable for me to travel back with them by car and then fly home later. I'm glad I don't have to make the decision today.
I woke up this morning spoonless. Not surprising, but still disappointing. Doing good self care feels like it requires the energy needed for mountain climbing. I've heard it said many times at meetings: What I'm doing isn't working so something needs to change. For me that means molding my day around doing basic self care. Dressed and showered. Eat 3 healthy meals. Drink enough water. Journal. Exercise. Prayer and meditation. I've gotten sloppy with all of it. Anything I accomplish above and beyond self care will be a bonus.
Lent will be a welcome opportunity to reflect, to pay attention to the littlest of disciplines that help my days be more peace filled. Often I get derailed as I walk past the computer on my way to eat breakfast. One brief "oh, I'll just check my email" ends up with me realizing hours later that it's midmorning or lunch time and I'm still in my pjs. Two new disciplines I'd hoped to begin this year were yoga and centering prayer. The resources to learn them came in the mail on Friday so they will be part of my Lenten routine. Both disciplines have been calling to me for a while and I'm willing to take the time to soak them both in and hopefully incorporate them into my self care routine.
I thought this weekend about my next counseling session. I envisioned walking in and asking my counselor if she wanted the good stuff or the bad first. Then I realized however challenging, however painful this past while has been, in reality, it's all good stuff. All necessary for deepening conversion. Every time I receive the Eucharist I ask Christ to transform me. Fr. Charlie keeps encouraging me that when we speak our truth the ripple effect of it is that our families experience transformation, too.
Dearest one questioned the healthiness of putting myself in harm's way. For speaking my truth and dealing with the consequences when I could've just kept my mouth shut and avoided the pain. I told him I was convinced that speaking my truth will only get easier as I practice doing it. That one day I will be able to have the same conversation with my sister and not end up in tears over it. That wounds can be healed. That transformation can happen. That, in the end, as Julian of Norwich says:
"...All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well."Even the weather.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
The Next Right Thing
Hibernating within the four walls of our home during the cold snap has made it hard to keep track of what day of the week it is. Today it was -26C and I braved going for my walk. I was wrapped up head to toe and while it wasn't exactly enjoyable it was good to get out of the house. It's been 5 days since I've done little more than stick my head out the door to call the dog back in. The cold weather hasn't been any fun for her either but we do know now that she is indeed litter box trained. I never knew such a thing was possible for a dog. I've said thank you many times in my head to the original owner who did all the hard work of training her so that I don't have to.
My food has been totally off this week. I've been snacking my way through the day, feeling like making a meal is a monumental task I just cannot face. At my last appointment my counselor gave me home work having to do with my childhood. It involved framing out a family tree of addictions, abuse and dysfunction as well as drawing a map of the house I grew up in. It was surprising what strong feelings welled up within me as I did each exercise. I realized I felt safe in only one room of the house and that was the dining room. I used to save up stuff to tell my mom at the dining room table as it was the safest place to have a voice without facing a backlash for doing so. That was an interesting piece of the puzzle for me. No wonder food is such a comfort.
Between the extreme cold weather and doing the homework it's been a tough slog this week. When I get shaky in my recovery I find myself going back to basics. Good self care tops the list and from there it's easier to do the next right thing. Little by little I'm integrating good self care back into my daily routine. Putting one foot in front of the other...it can only get better (and warmer!)
My food has been totally off this week. I've been snacking my way through the day, feeling like making a meal is a monumental task I just cannot face. At my last appointment my counselor gave me home work having to do with my childhood. It involved framing out a family tree of addictions, abuse and dysfunction as well as drawing a map of the house I grew up in. It was surprising what strong feelings welled up within me as I did each exercise. I realized I felt safe in only one room of the house and that was the dining room. I used to save up stuff to tell my mom at the dining room table as it was the safest place to have a voice without facing a backlash for doing so. That was an interesting piece of the puzzle for me. No wonder food is such a comfort.
Between the extreme cold weather and doing the homework it's been a tough slog this week. When I get shaky in my recovery I find myself going back to basics. Good self care tops the list and from there it's easier to do the next right thing. Little by little I'm integrating good self care back into my daily routine. Putting one foot in front of the other...it can only get better (and warmer!)
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Heating Pad Pug
At one point here since midnight it was -55C with the windchill factored in. The power was out for three hours mid day. I went and started the van in case I had to drive to a neighbour's who had wood heat. It was a hard call to know at what point was it less risky to get in a vehicle and drive or stay in a increasingly colder house. I turned the burners on the gas stove on and that helped.
Energizer Bunny was a great heating pad as well.
We're over the worst of the cold weather. Perspective is a funny thing. It's only going to be -35C tonight.
Stay warm.
Energizer Bunny was a great heating pad as well.
We're over the worst of the cold weather. Perspective is a funny thing. It's only going to be -35C tonight.
Stay warm.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Places of Fear
"We have places of fear inside us, but we have other places as well - places with names like trust and hope and faith. We can choose to lead from one of those places, to stand on ground that is not riddled with the fault lines of fear, to move toward others from a place of promise instead of anxiety."Last night I went for a walk in -4C weather. This morning it's -42C outside with the windchill factored in. Tomorrow we're supposed to wake up to -48C. I'm thankful for a warm house and no need to go out. Appointments for tomorrow can be cancelled and a full blown pajama day will ensue. Our sons are on their way home today from a weekend ski trip and will be travelling in -40C weather and colder. I will be glad when they get home.
~from Let Your Life Speak by Parker Palmer
Yesterday dearest one and I spent a wonderful day together. We bought a few groceries then I went to my AA meeting while he did a bit of work in his office. Afterwards we went swimming and out for lunch. No rope swinging happened but I did get dunked. We had fun. The rope swinging will happen yet.
We were on our way to the check out counter in the grocery store when we met an old friend we hadn't seen in several years. All was well until he asked where we were going to church these days. I find it weird that people would ask that question within a minute of seeing you, as if it was the best way to get reacquainted. The conversation went downhill from there. He was not happy with our choice to live out our faith within the Catholic Church. Everything from "Catholicism isn't biblical" to "we don't share the same beliefs" followed. He didn't come out and say we were no longer Christians but he came close. There was a time when stuff like that made me angry. When I was sure if only I had all the answers I'd stop the other person mid sentence and could walk away triumphant. It would completely bypass me that a sin against charity is of greater importance than winning a verbal jousting match. Yesterday I walked away feeling like I'd been pummeled. There was so much we could have talked about, stuff that really matters. This past year has been so full of grace and growth and I feel sad that none of that would have been heard until my faulty beliefs had been corrected.
I'm no great apologist for the faith and have no desire to be. I try to hold my faith in an open hand, remembering that God cannot be boxed in.
I can give answers to many common objections about Catholicism. I don't do it to prove anything to anyone or to try and convince people like our friend that he's wrong and the church is right. I do feel an obligation to correct misconceptions, like when our friend said we had to have a Catholic baptism in order to be "saved" in the eyes of the Church. We were baptized in the church of this man's youth and were able to share that that baptism was valid in the eyes of the Church as we had been baptized in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. In the end we parted before the conversation was complete (it didn't matter what we said he was hammering away at the error of our belief) and we were grateful that time restraints meant we had to be on our way.
I got to my AA meeting and had my back to the doorway when a friend came in. He said, "Hi, Hope." I must have seemed a bit startled because he asked why I was so jumpy. So I related what had just happened in the grocery store. He said to me, "You know why people are like that don't you?" "No," I replied. He went on to say that when people are not settled within themselves then they are shaken by another point of view. He said when he was okay within himself then how others live their lives doesn't faze him. But when he wasn't then he tended to pick at others for their choices.
On my walk last night I hashed out the day as I talked to God. I wondered if our friend had been operating out of fear. I'm all too familiar with doing the same. I wished yesterday I had asked him what he was afraid of. Last night I asked God to help me not operate of fear. I easily named aloud several areas of my life where I often let fear lead the way, thinking it's lighting the path. Relationships of my own where fear charges ahead while trust, hope and faith waiver.
Last night I lay in bed and prayed for our friend. I wondered if our friend was praying for us. I felt a lingering sadness about our encounter.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Facing The Enemy
"Conversion, the movement toward the Lord, is a process of disenchantment with the ego, recognizing how truly afraid and poor it is. The only way people can ever be freed from their fears is to be freed from themselves. There is almost a complete correlation between the amount of fear in our lives and the amount of attachment we have to ourselves. The person who is beyond fear has given up the need to control or possess. That one says, I am who I am in God's eyes—nothing more, nothing less. I don't need to impress you because I am who I am, and not who you think I am—or who I think I am.This was yesterday's quote from Richard Rohr but I opened the email tonight. How fitting. I sit here trying my best to not let fear run rampant and jump start me into controlling behaviour in order to soothe myself. God help me.
That's what the Pauline theology of Baptism is saying: You have died, you're dead (Romans 6:3-5). In Christ you don't need the false self. You have faced the enemy once and for all and, guess what? It's you!"
~Richard Rohr in Letting Go: A Spirituality of Subtraction
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Energy To Give Away
I'm trying to type with a dog on my lap. A dog that keeps sticking its butt in my face. There. I put her down on the floor and so she sits there whining at me because her two favourite places are either on a lap or running around outside. All other options illicit a whine from her that goes on and on and on. She's like the energizer bunny without the off switch.
It wasn't my idea to get a house dog. But the process of getting one showed me in a new way how to work my program and reap the promises. Maybe one day that will no longer come as a surprise to me but for now it still does.
Dearest one is a dog person. I prefer cats although they make me sneeze and feel like I have a head cold 24/7.
Someone had a purebred registered pug to give away and dearest one answered the ad only to be put on a waiting list. Great, I thought. Someone else will get it first and I won't have to deal with the issue.
Saturday night I came home to find out dearest one's name had risen to the top of the waiting list so the dog was ours if we still wanted it. Great, I thought. And out tumbled all my reasons why I didn't want a house dog. Or at least not now and not this dog. Having a difference of opinion is fine and dandy but what took me by surprise was the intensity of anger that seeped through all my protests. Eventually I looked at dearest one and said, "Why can't I simply say - I don't want a house dog - or - A house dog would be very healing for you, go for it!" Eventually dearest one went to bed and I was left to contemplate where all the anger was coming from. First I wondered if I was simply buying into my mom's dyed in the wool attitude that if something isn't her idea then it's not a good idea. As I sat there I realized I'd dragged 25 years worth of resentments about other dogs we've had into this conversation about the new one. Carrying that baggage into the present totally wiped my ability to be present off the radar screen. One of the benefits these days is that I'm able to look at that and not get defensive all over again. I simply know I need to add those resentments to my 4th step inventory and get back to the present.
Dearest one was sleeping by the time I figured all this out so first thing the next morning I told him how I'd dragged 25 years worth of resentments into the conversation about the new dog. How I knew instinctively that this new little dog could be very healing for him and that while I really didn't want a house dog right now I was willing to set that aside for his sake.
What happened next was a profound moment of grace. Earnie Larsen says that surrender is the ultimate power trip. Phillip Yancey says that repentance is the doorway to grace.
Dearest one has been doing gut wrenching work in counseling. We both have issues with intimacy - and by that I mean - letting someone see into our soul. Letting the walls crumble enough to let the other person in.
I was laying in bed and dearest one was sitting on its edge beside me as we talked. In the midst of this conversation about resentments and dogs there was an exchange of stark vulnerability that left us both in tears. A moment of deep intimacy. What was my body language at that moment? I realized I was laying there with my arms splayed out above my head like a newborn baby does when they sleep.
After dearest one left the room I lay there looking at the sun streaming in the window feeling full of gratitude for what had just happened. At the end of the day when we talked about the best part of our day - both of us chose that conversation.
It even trumped bringing home the Energizer Bunny.
She's sleeping with her head nestled in the crook of my arm as I resort to typing with one finger.
It wasn't my idea to get a house dog. But the process of getting one showed me in a new way how to work my program and reap the promises. Maybe one day that will no longer come as a surprise to me but for now it still does.
Dearest one is a dog person. I prefer cats although they make me sneeze and feel like I have a head cold 24/7.
Someone had a purebred registered pug to give away and dearest one answered the ad only to be put on a waiting list. Great, I thought. Someone else will get it first and I won't have to deal with the issue.
Saturday night I came home to find out dearest one's name had risen to the top of the waiting list so the dog was ours if we still wanted it. Great, I thought. And out tumbled all my reasons why I didn't want a house dog. Or at least not now and not this dog. Having a difference of opinion is fine and dandy but what took me by surprise was the intensity of anger that seeped through all my protests. Eventually I looked at dearest one and said, "Why can't I simply say - I don't want a house dog - or - A house dog would be very healing for you, go for it!" Eventually dearest one went to bed and I was left to contemplate where all the anger was coming from. First I wondered if I was simply buying into my mom's dyed in the wool attitude that if something isn't her idea then it's not a good idea. As I sat there I realized I'd dragged 25 years worth of resentments about other dogs we've had into this conversation about the new one. Carrying that baggage into the present totally wiped my ability to be present off the radar screen. One of the benefits these days is that I'm able to look at that and not get defensive all over again. I simply know I need to add those resentments to my 4th step inventory and get back to the present.
Dearest one was sleeping by the time I figured all this out so first thing the next morning I told him how I'd dragged 25 years worth of resentments into the conversation about the new dog. How I knew instinctively that this new little dog could be very healing for him and that while I really didn't want a house dog right now I was willing to set that aside for his sake.
What happened next was a profound moment of grace. Earnie Larsen says that surrender is the ultimate power trip. Phillip Yancey says that repentance is the doorway to grace.
Dearest one has been doing gut wrenching work in counseling. We both have issues with intimacy - and by that I mean - letting someone see into our soul. Letting the walls crumble enough to let the other person in.
I was laying in bed and dearest one was sitting on its edge beside me as we talked. In the midst of this conversation about resentments and dogs there was an exchange of stark vulnerability that left us both in tears. A moment of deep intimacy. What was my body language at that moment? I realized I was laying there with my arms splayed out above my head like a newborn baby does when they sleep.
After dearest one left the room I lay there looking at the sun streaming in the window feeling full of gratitude for what had just happened. At the end of the day when we talked about the best part of our day - both of us chose that conversation.
It even trumped bringing home the Energizer Bunny.
She's sleeping with her head nestled in the crook of my arm as I resort to typing with one finger.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Me Jane
Earlier this morning I thought to myself, it would take less energy to lay my head on the key board and cry than to lift my arms and type. The only catch is that tears don't magically seep into the keys and translate on to the screen. I've slowly been losing my grip on spoon filled days and I'm finding that hard to admit, let alone accept. Well, that's an understatement. My older sister tells me I used to throw quite the temper tantrums as a child. I'm not sure I've completely outgrown them. I'd have one now except it would use up precious energy - all those flailing arms and such - and the one thing I can do is choose my attitude regardless of my circumstances.
I haven't been a list maker of any kind for years and I don't miss the relentless measuring stick I made of those lists. So when I found myself journalling a list of 50 resolutions/goals for 2008 I knew I was headed for trouble. The day after my list making journal entry I wrote, "give your head a shake, girl!" With that I gave myself permission to disregard the list. Sure, there are things on there that I'd like to accomplish this year and the list is mostly made up of minor things like buy a pair of red shoes. But making the list was in itself a bell ringing wake up call. I couldn't shake a gut instinct that told me I must be feeling out of control in some areas of my life if that's how I was spending my spare time. Making unreasonable lists, as if they are the sanest option in the world, is my attempt at trying to control as much as I can outside myself in order to be at peace within.
Which is crazy making.
One thing that did make it on the list was a goal to go swimming twice a month. This past Saturday I did just that. And in my all or nothing thinking I had to make it worth my while, after all I'd paid 5 bucks to get in, and making it worth my while consisted of trying to dodge 15 teenagers while swimming laps across the pool. I way over did it physically. Occasionally I noticed that the bulk of the people around me were using pool time to socialize and that there was only one other person trying to swim laps.
When I was in treatment I told myself that the next time I was at the pool I was going to jump off the rope swing. It seems like such a little kid thing to do and I haven't done enough of that in my lifetime. I watched who was going off the swing (all Tarzan like) and not one middle aged woman was in sight. I weighed my options and decided that I really wanted someone important to me to witness (and take a picture of) my little kid moment so I'm saving that for next time.
I ended my time at the pool by spending a few minutes in the hot tub. As I sat down I recognized two people from recovery meetings and although I'd never talked to either of them before, I made my way over and introduced myself. While we were talking one of them spoke to a group of people who were from the treatment centre that I went to last summer. On my way out of the building the clients from that centre were waiting for the druggie bus as we called it, to take them back. I told them I'd gotten out of treatment in August. One of them asked me how it had been. I told him treatment had been life changing. He said he hoped it would be like that for him. I told him he would get out of it what he put into it. If he was willing to deal with his shit he'd have a better chance of making it outside treatment. He told me I was an inspiration and with that we went our separate ways.
By the time I got to the grocery store my chest was hurting from over doing it at the pool. Sunday morning I woke up with my heart racing over 100 and it did that for hours. Monday I had counseling at the childhood sexual abuse centre. Yesterday I got to a mid week AA meeting which helped me get my bearings. After that I had a session with my after treatment counselor where she helped me connect the dots as to some possible reasons for my lack of energy and how that was compelling me to grasp at control in other ways. It is so good to get another perspective. Left to my own devices I'd still be blaming myself for my current lack of spoons and beating myself up for not being able to bounce back at will.
I was able to trace my growing lack of energy back to when I started the counseling to deal with the trauma of childhood sexual abuse. Those have been exhausting, difficult-to-face sessions. So my counselor yesterday was able to stand back from the the situation and tell me that my body reacting with less energy was a clue that I was truly dealing with the baggage. That I was doing the hard work. That what looked like a negative was really more growth. She asked if the lack of energy continues as I journey, can I trust that I'm right where I need to be?
I looked at her and let the tears spill over.
Through my tears I told her I'd do just about anything not to go back to gauging my steps based on my spoon supply. Having no guarantee if tomorrow I'll wake up just as exhausted as I was this morning, or whether I'll feel normal makes me want to bang my head against the wall. I'm not back to square one health wise but I'm scared that's where I'm headed. I really thought my health issues were in the past.
Damn.
I'm not God and I don't control it all.
And while I hate, hate, hate it, I can't experience serenity unless I accept that this is my reality for today. (my mindset has been: how dare you fucking betray me, body of mine, after all the hard work I'm doing.)
Yet my family doctor had told me that I might experience more physical symptoms when I started the counseling. The sexual abuse centre had also warned me that increased physical symptoms were a normal part of the process.
I was so sure I'd be exempt.
I don't know if it's sad or funny but picture a group of addicts together, who've forgotten they're human, and you'll find them tapping their chest (in unison, mind you) while emphasizing how they alone are special and not. like. other. people.
And since I'm finding out I'm more like those who've gone before me than not, here I am today. Attempting to deal with my shit. Praying to be willing to surrender it. Praying for the courage to trust the process. Shredding my application for God's job. And very grateful to recognize that crazy making lists and grasping for control are sick options for me when trying to deal with life on life's terms.
Will I trust or won't I? The choice is mine.
Earnie Larsen writes in Destination Joy
I haven't been a list maker of any kind for years and I don't miss the relentless measuring stick I made of those lists. So when I found myself journalling a list of 50 resolutions/goals for 2008 I knew I was headed for trouble. The day after my list making journal entry I wrote, "give your head a shake, girl!" With that I gave myself permission to disregard the list. Sure, there are things on there that I'd like to accomplish this year and the list is mostly made up of minor things like buy a pair of red shoes. But making the list was in itself a bell ringing wake up call. I couldn't shake a gut instinct that told me I must be feeling out of control in some areas of my life if that's how I was spending my spare time. Making unreasonable lists, as if they are the sanest option in the world, is my attempt at trying to control as much as I can outside myself in order to be at peace within.
Which is crazy making.
One thing that did make it on the list was a goal to go swimming twice a month. This past Saturday I did just that. And in my all or nothing thinking I had to make it worth my while, after all I'd paid 5 bucks to get in, and making it worth my while consisted of trying to dodge 15 teenagers while swimming laps across the pool. I way over did it physically. Occasionally I noticed that the bulk of the people around me were using pool time to socialize and that there was only one other person trying to swim laps.
When I was in treatment I told myself that the next time I was at the pool I was going to jump off the rope swing. It seems like such a little kid thing to do and I haven't done enough of that in my lifetime. I watched who was going off the swing (all Tarzan like) and not one middle aged woman was in sight. I weighed my options and decided that I really wanted someone important to me to witness (and take a picture of) my little kid moment so I'm saving that for next time.
I ended my time at the pool by spending a few minutes in the hot tub. As I sat down I recognized two people from recovery meetings and although I'd never talked to either of them before, I made my way over and introduced myself. While we were talking one of them spoke to a group of people who were from the treatment centre that I went to last summer. On my way out of the building the clients from that centre were waiting for the druggie bus as we called it, to take them back. I told them I'd gotten out of treatment in August. One of them asked me how it had been. I told him treatment had been life changing. He said he hoped it would be like that for him. I told him he would get out of it what he put into it. If he was willing to deal with his shit he'd have a better chance of making it outside treatment. He told me I was an inspiration and with that we went our separate ways.
By the time I got to the grocery store my chest was hurting from over doing it at the pool. Sunday morning I woke up with my heart racing over 100 and it did that for hours. Monday I had counseling at the childhood sexual abuse centre. Yesterday I got to a mid week AA meeting which helped me get my bearings. After that I had a session with my after treatment counselor where she helped me connect the dots as to some possible reasons for my lack of energy and how that was compelling me to grasp at control in other ways. It is so good to get another perspective. Left to my own devices I'd still be blaming myself for my current lack of spoons and beating myself up for not being able to bounce back at will.
I was able to trace my growing lack of energy back to when I started the counseling to deal with the trauma of childhood sexual abuse. Those have been exhausting, difficult-to-face sessions. So my counselor yesterday was able to stand back from the the situation and tell me that my body reacting with less energy was a clue that I was truly dealing with the baggage. That I was doing the hard work. That what looked like a negative was really more growth. She asked if the lack of energy continues as I journey, can I trust that I'm right where I need to be?
I looked at her and let the tears spill over.
Through my tears I told her I'd do just about anything not to go back to gauging my steps based on my spoon supply. Having no guarantee if tomorrow I'll wake up just as exhausted as I was this morning, or whether I'll feel normal makes me want to bang my head against the wall. I'm not back to square one health wise but I'm scared that's where I'm headed. I really thought my health issues were in the past.
Damn.
I'm not God and I don't control it all.
And while I hate, hate, hate it, I can't experience serenity unless I accept that this is my reality for today. (my mindset has been: how dare you fucking betray me, body of mine, after all the hard work I'm doing.)
Yet my family doctor had told me that I might experience more physical symptoms when I started the counseling. The sexual abuse centre had also warned me that increased physical symptoms were a normal part of the process.
I was so sure I'd be exempt.
I don't know if it's sad or funny but picture a group of addicts together, who've forgotten they're human, and you'll find them tapping their chest (in unison, mind you) while emphasizing how they alone are special and not. like. other. people.
And since I'm finding out I'm more like those who've gone before me than not, here I am today. Attempting to deal with my shit. Praying to be willing to surrender it. Praying for the courage to trust the process. Shredding my application for God's job. And very grateful to recognize that crazy making lists and grasping for control are sick options for me when trying to deal with life on life's terms.
Will I trust or won't I? The choice is mine.
Earnie Larsen writes in Destination Joy
"Let go of the rope. Every day, every hour, one day at a time, stage by stage and step by step - let go of the rope."When I do, that's one picture that's going to get framed.
Thursday, January 03, 2008
Changing Views
"There is nothing all that bad about mixed motives, unless we think they are pure." ~FalconbrotherI'm listening to James Taylor singing "You've Got A Friend" as I type. It's been a long time since I liked an entire CD but his new One Man Band mix is a keeper.
The song seems fitting as I mull over a telephone conversation I had all morning with a long time friend. One I'd lost touch with when she moved away. A friend who has been there for me through really rough stretches and who I was there for when she went through a deep and dark depression years ago.
Our friendship has barely survived where my spiritual journey has brought me. There were several years where we hardly talked. My interest in living out my faith within the Catholic Church became a huge elephant in the room. Other than our initial conversation where she insinuated I was deceived if my journey was going to take me there, we don't talk about this aspect of my journey. Eventually I told her that I didn't need her to support my choice of Church but I did need her to support me as I journeyed, if our friendship was to continue.
Our conversation this morning lasted several hours. And I can't shake feeling I was trying to prove something to her. Like see how far I've come in my journey since becoming Catholic and needing her approval. I hate when someone else's opinion matters more to me than my own. When I lose all sense that I get to define me and find myself handing over the reins and saying, "Here, you define me for a second, okay?" (or a minute, an hour, a lifetime; depending on the day)
But get like that I do.
When that happens I feel like I'm Odie in a Garfield comic strip.
Often when I am in conversation with someone I will imagine breathing into all the white spaces around their words in order to remind myself to listen for what's not being said, too. It helps me listen on a deeper level. This morning I simply ceased listening altogether, instead having so many answers of my own. It was a bunch of (apologies to dearest one for using this term) bla bla bla on my part. It wasn't so much what I said but my motives in saying what I did. Straining to show her just where I've arrrived to. Blech.
At one point she asked was I still writing? When I answered yes, but didn't give her my blog address I knew just how insecure I was feeling in our friendship. Not giving my blog address to friends means I don't trust them with the whole of my story. It means I'm scared they'll shit on me if they know the darkest places I've been. Sad that many of you who I've never met, know more about my journey than friends I've had for decades.
Several years ago I was in an evangelical church listening to the pastor preach. As I was sitting there judging him, these words, "When you judge the journey of others you are trying to steal their story from them. Don't steal their stories." came into my head. I'm scared she will steal my story. In the process I lose the ability to honour hers as well.
I hate when I'm not comfortable in my own skin; when being in the presence of some people make all my insecurities rise to the surface like yeast in the bowl. Damn.
When I was on my walk today I beat myself up for that for several paces before I caught myself and stopped. When I was in treatment this summer I asked a man I respect if he regretted not achieving sobriety the first time in treatment as this was his 4th or 5th time around. He looked at me and said, "I don't play that game. To do so would mean not honouring my story."
So I don't have it figured out like I thought I did. I get scared to show people the real me. The one without all the answers. The one I thought was behind me.
The one who gets progress and perfection mixed up.
How I feel about myself in relation to others is mine to own.
I so wanted to blame her.
Fear kept me from acting with integrity this morning.
I don't know how much of our friendship was based on us seeing the same view out the window, you know?
And I'm scared to find out.
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