Gentle ...

"I never understood it when I was younger," my friend said to me. "But as I get older, the saying 'Be gentle with yourself' makes more and more sense."

I nodded. Rare is the person in our western society, especially in the church it seems, who treats himself or herself as kindly as he or she would treat others. It's part and parcel of our culture, it seems, to be hard on ourselves, to think of ourselves last (believing this to be selfless and altruistic) instead of looking after ourselves so that we have enough in reserve to give to others without burning out! 

I spent years like that, burning out time after time, growing to resent the very people I was trying to help. Decades. It boggles my mind when I think about it. And all the time I was doing that, I thought I was "being a good person" and even "being Christ-like." 

Wrong.

The depth and scope of my self-deception was such that it touched every facet of my existence. 

Typical behaviors included:

• letting everyone else choose what they wanted at a buffet and going in afterward to choose from what everyone else didn't want,
• going into a department store and getting something to wear for everyone in the family except for me,
• supporting and encouraging people who thought so little of themselves that they needed constant affirmation, with little or no change,
• never asking for any time off from my volunteer position at church, even filling in for anyone who was sick or on vacation (when they didn't advise the volunteer coordinator in advance),
• staying in unhealthy relationships far too long, 
• trying to "fix" my family members and friends (veiled as "giving advice" or "caring"),
• beating myself up when I made a mistake and not forgiving myself,
• holding myself back from reaching for my own dreams and aspirations for career or ministry,
• procrastinating on implementing healthy habits for myself,
• putting myself down, criticizing my looks, my abilities, and my possessions ALL THE TIME (which was really a manipulation of other people to make them feel guilty or bad for me, and then they'd tell me nice things about myself to "make me feel better"),
• never saying "No" to the demands of my family and/or friends, and
• never saying "Yes" to what would feed my own spirit or heart.

Me in 2004

I was brought up to believe that self-love was selfISH. However, in the last nearly four years, I've learned that if I don't take the time to be gentle to myself, it not only hurts me but those around me, because I will be running on empty and unable to respond - only react ... and usually not well. 

I'm not talking about pandering to Ego (heard a great acronym for EGO: "Edging God Out") or rather, to Egotism, which is a more accurate term for self-centeredness and arrogance.  I'm talking about recognizing that as much as I want others to feel good about themselves because they are human beings ... I too am a human being and I need to cut myself a break sometimes. I need to be good to myself, to treat myself as I would a friend. 

After all, one of the Great Commandments is to "love your neighbor as yourself." Well, if I loathe myself, and do everything in my power to sabotage myself, I won't know how to love my neighbor, will I?

Hmm. That thought keeps occurring to me. It must be important.

So, for the last three and a half years especially, I've been doing more and more to look after myself, to follow my dreams, to work toward what I want for my life, to draw boundaries where before I didn't even know I had a right to them, to say "No" once in a while, and to make time for myself on a regular basis. 

It all makes a difference. My life today as compared to four years ago is ... well, simply astonishing to me. The best thing is - and I have to credit being gentle with myself for part of it - for the first time in my life, I feel comfortable inside my own skin and I am actually ... happy.

Nobody is more surprised about that than I am.  :D

Change is Good

Over the last few days - as I've found the time and as I've been able to stay focused - the face of "Get Unwrapped!" has been changing. Maybe you've noticed - maybe not.

You might have remarked that I use fewer photos - and that those I include are actually mine!

As I've come to understand the potentially expensive rules surrounding blogging and in particular, copyright laws, I'm revamping all my archived older posts to limit or eliminate the use of images obtained from the Internet, especially from such places as flickr and Google Images, and some of these will eventually be replaced with my own photos ... or diagrams ... or with nothing at all. Many of my "page hits" have been from people looking for photos of this or that - so I'm trying to let my traffic be more about "content" than about window dressing. 

Of course the dog had to get in on this shot. ;)

Accordingly, I've been monitoring my page hits since I started eliminating borrowed (i.e., stolen [ouch]) images - just to confirm that this is why people have been stopping by - and it appears to be so. 

It's all good. I'm okay with that. Numbers never really mattered to me anyway, and I'd rather have people be attracted to WHAT I'm saying rather than the bells and whistles I put out there. Plus, I don't want to break any laws!!

I'm constantly learning. After blogging for over 2.5 years, I feel like I'm only just starting to come into my own.  I've built a network of blogger friends, and the consistent writing has been a way for me to continue to grow as a person. 

I want to thank you, my faithful readers, for continuing to read, to "like" or "Plus One" - and to make comments here (which is what I prefer of course) or on Facebook or on Google Plus. If you haven't already done so, I encourage to make your "following" official.  

Following is easy! If you want to follow my blog ...

1. Hover your mouse over the right margin of this page, and some gray tabs will pop out - 
2. Slide your mouse pointer over the one that looks like three dots over an island (that's people) ... and a tab will pop out that says "Followers" - and
3. Click on the word "Followers" on that tab, and you'll see where you can become a follower - just click on the "Join this Site" button, and fill in the blanks. 

It's that simple. 

The preceding has been a shameless plug for this blog. (hee hee)

Seriously though, as I've been going through my archives, it's been surprising how much I write about change - about growth, about healing, about honesty and vulnerability, about letting go, and about moving on - and I guess there is a "sameness" to my writing in that regard. I revisit the same topics from different angles, over and over again. I write about these things because I need to write about them... they're part of who I am, what I'm about. And I hope that in doing so, I might have spurred a little thought about what they mean to you as well. 

Finally, my readers, I want to wish you the happiest, holiest, huggy-est and most honest Christmas ever. I can't promise I won't write again before Christmas Day - but just in case I don't - this is me wishing you all the best memories you can possibly make with all those who are dearest to you.

Always.

Force Fields

Some time ago, I was talking to an acquaintance of mine and telling her some things about her that I appreciated. I told her that she was a sweet person, or something to that effect. She stopped me right there. "Oh, I dunno about that Judy," she drawled. "I don't think you know me well enough to say that about me." 

When I looked puzzled, she continued. "I think that if you knew what I was really like, you wouldn't say such great things about me." 

Really? 

Does everyone do this? Does everyone put up a force field of behaviors they think are socially acceptable and hide the fears, the failings, the vulnerabilities they think they have, just to "fit in" to what they think is considered 'nice'? 

Huh. I thought I was the only one. The last few years for me has all been about bringing down those force fields and being real so that people knew who I was and not the image I would like them to see. 

I know it's hard - letting down that kind of guard puts a person into a position where he or she might get hurt, attacked, betrayed or (what's worse) deliberately ignored. But when I had all those force fields up and running, I always wondered if people hung around with me (IF they did) because of my facades, what I wanted them to see, or because of who I really was ... if I even knew what that was (let alone them!) 

Sometimes letting down those force fields has resulted in confrontations I would have rather avoided. Sometimes it's even led to enforcing boundaries ... to the point of saying goodbye. And sometimes, friends, it has resulted in ever-deepening relationships with people who are trustworthy, who treat me as an equal rather than an idol or a slave, who deserve the same treatment from me and (usually) get it! 

My definitions of family, friendship, loyalty, forgiveness, trust, and caring have all undergone radical transformations in the last few years. Those who know me best tell me that they hardly recognize me compared to the person I used to be. All I can tell them is that this is an ongoing process, that I do whatever is put in front of me to do, and that I strive to be as real as I can be and trust those who have demonstrated that they are trustworthy. And, strange as it may seem, I like this new me - the one with far fewer force fields - much better than the one who had put up so many of them that she was trapped inside with (it seemed) no way out. 

There is a way out - one force field at a time. 

Silent Vigil

She has seen every Christmas morning in our house since the children were bouncing squiggles of excitement. 

She's watched our family and listened as we have lived our lives up to and following the Big Day - seen how we struggle to keep peace between ourselves, seen how we cope with upsets and setbacks, and endured our choice of TV programming. (After all, how many times can one watch "The Grinch that Stole Christmas"?)

Christmas 2012 treetopper - taken today

She is our Christmas angel tree-topper. Year after year she has presided over the good and the not-so-good. Constant and true, she has held her two lights up high for all who would look. Regardless of the quality of our decorating, she has provided the graceful piece de resistance, covering a multitude of patently untalented decorators' sins. 

Robed in colors of gold and crimson and white, she is a continual reminder of the original Reason for the Season... an object lesson of the constancy and the ever-watchful, ever-loving eye of the One whose birth we choose to celebrate at this time of year. Even when circumstances don't seem particularly joyful. Or joyful at all.

She was there the day that - because of a poorly balanced tree - our eldest bore the brunt of the imbalance and the tree fell on top of her. We were grateful our little girl was not hurt! Ever afterward, we took special care to completely balance the tree so that it was perfectly upright. 

She was there, keeping silent vigil, as our feeble gifts to one another ... in rich times and in poor ... reminded us that we were loved much, that there were people in this world who believed in us, who supported us and our dreams, who suffered with us as we grieved the physical absence of those greatly loved ones no longer among us. 

She listened every Christmas morning to each of us as we took a turn reading the Christmas story, transported back to the hills and caves around Bethlehem right along with us, and she heard us sing Happy Birthday Jesus as a family (a song that still brings tears to my eyes and a catch in my voice) ... right before opening our gifts. She has been witness to the oohs and ahs of surprise and wonder - and to our frantic scramble to dispose of the wrappings after all was said and done, the smells of cooking turkey, and the laughter and "happy tears" of friends and family as we shared each other's company. 

Tragedies and triumphs, joys and regrets, love expressed, memories made. She's seen it all for the last twenty-odd years. 

If she could talk... I wonder what she'd say.

None of my business

Honestly. Sometimes I feel like I'm right back in high school. 

"Did he say something about me?"
"I heard so-and-so said that he said you weren't talking to him." 

And on and on. What are we, thirteen years old?

This evening, I got broadsided by someone who doesn't know me very well at all, but thinks that he does because he hears what people he knows say about me - and based on their interpretation of what I'm about, he felt he had the right to tear a strip off me. 

Me after a wisdom tooth extraction last year, "warts and all."

I've spent nearly the last four years learning to let go of my need to control things and people, and some lessons have been harder than others. 

One of the hardest has been when other people lie about me or have an opinion of me that is less than I would like - even if I don't particularly like them... and they spread their poison and infect others with their particular viewpoint. That's what happened here. 

I'd had a hard week, just coming back from being sick for nearly two weeks, having to make up some time that I lost with very few physical resources left.  

So, I reacted. I told him what the truth was, and in no uncertain terms. He'll probably never want to speak to me again. For about a half-hour afterward, I was agitated, pacing the floor, not able to let go. Then my hubby (bless him!) reminded me of something I'd forgotten, a quote worth remembering. 

"What other people think about me is none of my business."  ~ Simon Cowell

This is one of those "things I cannot change." I told the truth, and whether I'm believed or not has nothing to do with it. I just have to let it go and remember that I'm not responsible for what other people think about me or say about me. I just need to live my life and let others live theirs. 

Live and let live. One day at a time. Serenity to Accept what I cannot Change - which I just don't have in myself. So I ask for it - and I say Please. And it comes ... if I allow it to come. (I'm reminded of a poster my therapist had on his wall - "Today is a good day ... unless I make other plans.")

And what IS my business? Changing what I Can Change - which takes Courage that I don't have - so that's why I ask for it.

And that comes too. One Day - One Minute at a Time.

Beginning the beginning

It was a week before Christmas 2008. Fast-forward through the impatient waiting for my drive, the frantic phone calls, the worry, the fear of finding him slumped over the wheel ... the tight-lipped drive to the emergency room in mixed relief, anger, and panic - and the waiting for the blood tests to show what I already knew.

Never mind that I'd been trying to hold it together, lurching from crisis to crisis and keeping the wolf at bay through several half-truths and self-delusions that "it isn't that bad" - the growing uneasiness that maybe this was too big for me to handle, the denial that I needed help from outside myself. 

Amazing how our perceptions of the season change
from the time we are children and snow just means
fun making snowmen.

Those who know me well, know that winter is my least favorite season of the whole year. I hate the cold, the snow, the wind, the slippery roads, the cleaning off of the vehicle, the shoveling, the heavy clothing, the scraping, the extra time traveling more slowly, the scarcity of parking, and so forth and so on. Whenever possible, I would let him drive, preferring not to face winter slushy, dirty, yucky traffic. 

Which is why, when the doctor told me that he would have to report the incident (me finding him slumped over the wheel with the motor running, plus his blood alcohol level) and that the standard penalty for this offense was losing one's license for 6 months, I felt cold, icy fingers of fear rising up from my gut and closing around my throat. I instantly envisioned months of driving in winter, braving the horrible winter elements, stretching out in front of me.

I also saw the inevitable questions, the anticipated judgment of those from whom I'd been able to hide his secret, and the cold shoulders that I just knew would result, and I started to tremble.

I was SCARED. Irrationally, unreasonably afraid.

I felt the weight of being the only driver in the family at the worst possible time of year, the isolation that came with that, the inconvenience of assuming the responsibility of carting people where they wanted to go (he'd always done that) whenever they wanted to go. It would be at least two more months, probably three, before he could get into Rehab; he'd already been "bumped" from the waiting list once. I didn't know how much longer I could DO this.

I truly didn't know where to turn. The driving was only the tip of the iceberg. It unveiled a whole host of other things I had been afraid to face, shed a spotlight on how dangerous it was for him to even be on the road, how I had been hiding from just how unacceptable it all was. I felt like I couldn't talk to a whole lot of people, that nobody would understand how I felt, bearing the consequences of his drinking and feeling like I couldn't afford to fall apart - yet wanting so very much to bury my head under the covers and never come out! Nobody I knew would understand that "overwhelmed" feeling, the shame, the fear, the anger, the constant pressure. 

Nobody except - perhaps - someone who dealt with this kind of stuff all the time.

The idea began, just like that. Just a seed of thought at first. Someone had to understand me. I needed someone to comprehend. A stranger perhaps. Someone who didn't know me, who had nothing to do with the circles in which I was involved. 

It percolated through Christmas and into New Year's Day. By that time, the idea had rooted and was starting to take shape. I'd call the treatment center. They had family counselors. I'd talk to someone there. Nobody had to know.

I didn't know what would become of this. I didn't know that this would be the very first step I would take toward healing in my own life, the first chink toward crumbling the facade I'd built up and beginning a life of honesty and vulnerability, of openness and commitment to being real, of freedom from so many things that had shackled my soul for so many years. I had no way of knowing that it would open the door to so much good that has happened since that time, only the least of which was learning that I actually COULD drive and survive in the winter. :) I couldn't have possibly predicted the friendships that would strengthen, the new friendships that would form and the amazing journey I was about to start.

I just knew I needed help. 

It was early January. My head in my hands and my elbows propped up on the kitchen table, I glanced beside my elbow to the 7-digit number I'd written down on a slip of paper. The numbers slowly lost their blurriness as I blinked and wiped the tears from my cheeks. 

With trembling fingers I reached for the phone.

On Hold

"Your call is important to us. Please stay on the line and your call will be answered by the next available agent."

It's no secret that I hate waiting. In a sense, I guess that's why I think I do so much of it: the cosmos appears to try to neutralize negative pressure. ;)

In other words, "Get used to it."

The theme in the last couple of months for me has been to get used to waiting. I freely admit that this theme has been met with a lot of kicking and screaming. Waiting to get my old computer fixed. (and waiting). Waiting to see an answer to prayer for a friend. (As usual, God let us wait until the last possible moment before charging in and working a miracle!) 

I've even hated waiting for a diagnosis for our eldest whom we strongly suspect has torn at least one ligament in her knee and severely sprained her patellar tendon. Waiting for that appointment with the specialist, even though it was far sooner than we thought, has seemed interminable as I have watched her take with grace and aplomb the events of the last few days. 

Her attitude has been amazing. Mine? Not so much.

I know that in my relationship with God, if there is some lesson He wants to teach that I'm either just not getting or am unwilling to learn, He finds a way to get me to listen. Usually it's through circumstances that force me to do the thing He wants to teach me to do. When that doesn't work, there is that last resort ... sickness.

So you guessed it - I'm sick. It's "only a cold," but by the Mister Man, those little critters can sure pack a wallop! 

It started yesterday afternoon at work. I couldn't concentrate, and I caught myself "zoning out." Last night, it hit. I felt awful.

Suddenly, all around me, people are making ordinary plans, doing regular things, going on about their lives - and I can't join in. I'm too weak, my throat is too sore, and my body is too tired to do much more than sit at the computer and lurk on Facebook, bolstered by Advil, DayQuil, Vitamin C and coffee to stave off the drowsiness. Even then, I find myself drifting off to sleep.

A nap. A nap might really help. 

Life slows down to a snail's pace. And I spend a lot of time ... waiting. 

Waiting for others to finish doing what they're doing. Waiting for the medicines to kick in. Waiting for my body to fight the virus. Waiting for my throat to be well enough to eat the yummy - yet scratchy - foods that everyone is eating all around me: pizza, for example. 

Normal living - well, as "normal" as it gets for me - is "on hold." My definitions of what's important, what's essential, are being rewritten. Again. 

Okay God. I'm listening. This is me ... waiting.

Taking care while caretaking

I'm a recovering codependent. 

It is an effort for me to let people make their own mistakes without trying to rush in and fix things, or to fix the people. When I put on my "Fix-it" cap, people either become more dependent on me (which breeds resentment on both sides) or they immediately beome defensive and angry. 

Usually. 

However, there are times when the "caretaking" skills come in handy - like when someone I love is literally unable to care for himself or herself. 

Like this weekend. My eldest fell on a patch of black ice while trying to get into the family vehicle. In that fall, she twisted her left knee so much so that the patella (kneecap) shifted around to the outside - and she had to shift it back until it "clicked" into place (shuddddder.) 

We finally (that is, after over 24 hours of arguing) convinced her that she needed to have it seen. Her dad took her to an emergency room in a hospital which is an hour's drive away - one that is known for shorter wait times. She was seen very quickly, X-rayed to exclude the possibility of a bone chip or cracked patella, had a huge knee-brace put on her leg to keep it straight - and referred to an extremely good orthopedic surgeon here in our community. The wait time to see him is usually 2 to 3 months. He called this morning and wants to meet her at our local hospital a week from tomorrow. (This gives the swelling time to go down so an MRI can get a better picture, quite likely). 

Oh ... did I forget to mention that she RE-injured the knee trying to get back into the house (5 stairs up to the top of the deck plus a lu-lu of a doorstep to get into the house) with the knee brace on? Once again, she had to click the patella back in place. In the rain. Sitting on a wet deck. The whole thing was a nightmare for all concerned - especially her.

A hand-held shower: simple solution to mobility problems

Anyway... today I called my boss and told her that I'd be taking some time off today to look after my daughter and arrange ways for her to look after herself in the day-to-day. 

If I need to, I'll take leave without pay to look after her, but I hope it doesn't come to that. 

Her dad is running unexpected errands today - getting items we never thought we'd need: a hand-held shower head, other assorted household items, a wheelchair rental, materials to build a ramp from the top of the deck to the driveway - and I'm looking at ways to get her access to the things she normally uses in the run of a day, so that she can function from day to day without help.

And herein is the greatest difference between the way I would have handled this four years ago and the way I'm approaching it now. I'm actually actively seeking ways for her to be independent. Before, I would have lapped this up and wanted more. Yes, in a way I am enjoying the opportunity to look after her hand and foot. However, I know that this is a danger zone for me - so I need to ask myself, even now, if this (whatever it is) is something I NEED to do or if I should let her try to figure it out on her own. 

Sometimes it's appropriate for me to offer my help; after that, though, it's more appropriate to make a way for her to do things for herself. 

It's a learning process. And I'm learning.

After the miracle comes

In my last blog post, I talked about my friend whose faith through a trial has been tenacious. Of course, the amazing happened in her life and God really showed Himself strong in her situation when all seemed hopeless. Here is an account of her miracle, and a few comments on it. 

And now that she has received her impossible dream-come-true, like Henny Penny from the fairy tale by Andersen, she looked around and found that nobody from the circle of friends she expected has lifted a finger to help her rid herself of the vestiges of her old life and get started in a new one. A new group of friends pitched in their time and resources to help her. But as she sat across our supper table from me last evening, she shook her head and said, "Nobody from [XXXXX] even showed up." 

I tried to make excuses for the group she mentioned, but it was tough, you know? Everyone makes time for what is important to him/ her. 

Snowflakes - miracles in themselves

Yet ... this time has been great for her to strengthen friendships with those who really do care about her and about her happiness and who show it. I've had priceless opportunities to put "skin" on my platitudes and actually roll up my sleeves and invest a little "sweat equity" into the relationship. 

Am I stiff and sore this morning? Oh yeah. Do I regret digging deep into two of my most precious commodities - time and energy - to help her? 

Absolutely not. In fact, I've been encouraged by her excitement, even challenged by her getting into the "Christmas spirit" (something I haven't felt for years, except in fleeting moments, nothing sustained) and wanting to decorate her place for the holidays. Everything feels so fresh and new, and her gratitude for God's goodness is tangible. 

It is wonderful that so many have had the blessing of praying for her and being able to take part - in some small way - in what God did for her. But it would have been nice to not have left the other, more practical things, for others to do. 

There are a lot of ads on TV these days about child sponsorship and giving a goat to a family half-way around the world. But what about the person who lives in our city, goes to our church perhaps, who is living below the poverty line and who struggles to make ends meet? who has to choose between food and electricity? What about the homeless in our own back yard? What about "at-risk" families in our province or state who don't have enough money to buy Christmas presents or school supplies or shoes for their kids? 

I'm talking to me, too. Ouch!

I know of some families who have given up on buying each other gifts for Christmas and who donate their time at the soup kitchen, or who donate the money they would have spent on Christmas shopping ... to turkey drives or the food bank. Thinking "outside the boxes" beneath the tree might do a lot of good for people who need help; it would also let them know that someone cares for them in a way that surpasses platitudes. And the thing about giving in that way is: it not only meets a need in someone's liife, but it helps the one who gives ... in ways that can't be measured. 

It might even spark some Christmas spirit.