As good as a rest

They say a change is as good as a rest.

Of course they (whoever "they" are) mean that a change that is more or less positive does as much good as taking a rest from something that is more or less negative. But they don't come out and say it. (Just saying.)

That being said, I've had the opportunity to give that saying a bit of a whirl - and I've just started 'whirling' this week.  I was offered the opportunity to take on a new role at my work for a while.  For how long, I am not sure, but it will be for at least six weeks and could be as long as four months! It involves more responsibility, using skills I haven't used regularly in a long time, and includes learning new skills and knowledge I never had before, and using them 'on the fly.' I spend a lot more time with my electronic calendar than I ever did, and I am so grateful that it is there as a tool for me to use.  A lot of things would fall off the plate without my electronic to-do lists and appointment reminders. (Whew!)

Photo "Daily Planner With Pen" by
BrandonSigma at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

I just finished a week in my new role. Wow. I'm not exactly sure about what the saying says, because it really feels like I've been thrown into the deep end of the pool - and I don't swim. I know that it feels like I have more energy at the end of the work day. However, the down side of this is that it takes me longer to decompress from it before I can attend to my school work.

Having said this, throughout this week I have noticed a few encouraging things about myself.

First, I survived.  Nobody yelled in anger at me.  And I even got some encouraging feedback from more than one person.

Second, I am spending more time up and about.  I am way more active in this new line of work: away from my desk and walking back and forth to talk to this and that person, and bring files to this and that person, I sometimes feel as though I could wear a pedometer and count my job toward my exercise count for the day. That is totally different!

Third, I made mistakes.  I knew I would, and I decided ahead of time that I would adopt a teachable attitude and learn as much as possible ... and if that meant learning from my mistakes, then so be it.   And it has.  And I did. And I'm still in the process of learning - and I don't expect that I will ever stop learning. (I think that is a good sign. It means I'm alive, as my husband says.)  I used to be so afraid of failing. But I've come to understand that failing and making mistakes are two different things.

And making mistakes in procedure and protocol - like I did this week - wasn't the end of the world.  I have a wonderful manager who has taken it upon herself to teach me the ropes of my new role, and today she sat with me and went over some of the duties I had tried to do without direction, and provided that direction. Then she walked me through one of the major tasks in the job, showed me where to find what I needed to do it, told me why it was important to do it that way, and much more.  She corrected me when I told her about something that I had done that was against protocol, and she told me why it was not advisable.  At no time did she ever get angry or scold me. At no time did I ever feel as though she was NOT on my side. In fact, I got the impression that she wanted me to succeed. That was worth a LOT to me. 

Finally, as a result of that meeting today, I think I rounded a corner in understanding how it all fits together and how my cog fits into the machine.  I might still make mistakes (and probably will) but I know that I have good support people, good teachers, and good leaders. I couldn't put a price on that. Slowly it's dawning on me, as I go through this learning curve, that my confidence level is increasing even as I admit how much I have left to learn (and maybe because of it!)  That "beginner's mind" that our counselling class discussed during this past July's Summer Institute has indeed come to my aid.  

I saw this neat Maya Angelou quote that sums it up:  "Do the best you can until you know better. Then, when you know better, do better."  Cool huh? 

Maybe this change - which involves flying high and getting more of a bird's eye view of my work section - is just the rest I needed from the sameness of 'in-the-trenches' work that I was doing before.  I can still do that work (when I have time, and I've been encouraged to do that as well) but I think I can help more people doing what I am doing now. 

That feels good.  It really does.

Point of view

The other day, I got a chance to watch somebody do something that I didn't have the courage to do: talk to a complete stranger who (by all reports) could have become angry and violent given the subject matter of the conversation. 

I was supposed to have talked to the man... but basically, well-ll-lllll .... I chickened out. This person I was watching had offered to talk to him for me - and had asked me if I wanted to watch and see "how it was done." I jumped at the chance.

Every fear I had nursed about this conversation never materialized. The man was polite, courteous, and even understanding. That was amazing enough in itself. However, what was even more amazing for me was how my friend approached the conversation.

Instead of fear and trepidation, there was confidence, friendliness, and humor. 

I thought a lot about how the conversation went with my friend in charge, and how it might have gone with me at the helm. I didn't like what I saw... but I did start to understand what the difference was. It was "point of view."

Later, after the conversation was over, I told my friend about my epiphany, my inner realization about the point of view determining the course of a conversation, a social interaction, a task. 

You see, my friend actually expected things to go well. There was an inner confidence, a belief that most people would be nice and that there was no need to worry. (I don't have that.) There was also the fact that my friend stayed "in the moment" and didn't play the "what if" game. (I do that all the time!) 

Point of view, or perspective, or mind-set, determines a great deal of things in life. It can cause us to be adventurous or reticent, thoughtless or thoughtful, confident or fearful, trusting or suspicious, and everything in between. My friend was always told that she could do anything that she set her mind to, that the world was a wonderful place, that her own opinion of herself was the only one that mattered, and that people could be incredibly sweet. I was told that I was a screw-up, that the world had it in for me, that the most important thing in the world was what people thought about you, and that my feelings and thoughts didn't matter at all. 

Photo "Serpentine Pathway Stones On A Park Walkway"
(concept) by arturo at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

We came at this conversation - and I came to realize that we come at life - from two completely different points of view, based on our own experiences in our growing-up years. Suddenly, in the presence of my friend (after the conversation was over and I realized that all went well) I remembered someone saying once that we create what we believe ... because what we believe determines how we act, and also it determines how others react to us. I have no doubt that if I had talked to that man, he would have become irritated with me because I believed that he would and because I would have therefore been apologetic and hesitant with him, stumbling over my words. And therein lies my problem. 

My problem lies within me. It lies in my own point of view - created early on in my life by people whose own point of view was warped and distorted, and adopted by me because I didn't know any different way to be.

The good part of all this is that through this experience, my problem - which had been "out there" and quite cloudy and hard to grasp - gelled and came into clear focus for me. That is the first step in doing something about it.

Yes, I will make this a matter of prayer - and of focused self-talk using what I know to be true instead of what I have been told by those who don't know any better. But I also know that if I need help or focus doing that self-talk, I can ask for help. I don't need to struggle through it alone.

That's something those people in my early life would never have suggested because, well, "What would people think?" I'm learning not to listen to that tired old song. And now that I know what to ask for, you can bet that I'll be asking for it. 

And I'll get there. Hopefully sooner rather than later.

Games people play

It never ceases to amaze me how people can be incredibly caring, sweet, wonderful and generous ... until they aren't. 

A few things I've learned about people in the last five and a half years that I've been in "recovery" have set me back on my heels. These are things that either I didn't know or that I didn't want to know. 

One thing is sure. People will surprise you. You think you have them pegged and then they do something completely unexpected. Like when my co-workers opened their hearts to me after my youngest daughter died suddenly last October. I never expected that - and the caring continues to this day! 

However, I have learned - sadly, the hard way - that no matter who it is, people (because they - er, we - are human!) will inevitably disappoint anyone who depends on them / us. We aren't perfect, and if we try to give that impression, well, let's just say the fall from the pedestal is quite steep. And it seems that the higher the pedestal we think we're on, the more it hurts when (not if) we fall from it. I've learned that it's better not to think of myself as better than anyone else, and it's made me avoid anyone who thinks that way too, for whatever reason (education, position, etc.)

So, for better or worse, I've developed some personal guidelines to help me navigate the world of interpersonal relationships - which can sometimes be a mine-field, especially if there are relationships where one person is in a position of power and the other one isn't. So, in no particular order, here are a few of my own personal guard-rails:

1. I have boundaries. These pertain to my personal space, to my emotional space, and to my spiritual space. I have the right to occupy a place in the world, and to feed my soul with what nourishes me inside. If someone infringes on that right, or takes advantage of my generosity, I have the right to be angry and also to say, "This is not okay." It doesn't matter whether that person believes himself or herself to have the right to demand my respect; if the person has hurt me, it is okay for me to say that he or she has hurt me. 
2. I have the right to make my own decisions and my own mistakes, and the responsibility to learn from them.
3. I have the right to feel what I feel. This means that nobody has the right to tell me that I don't feel something or that I shouldn't feel something. 
4. Other people have boundaries. It is not okay for me to try to fix anyone, even if that person asks me to do it. It is not my place to tell someone else how to live their life, run their marriage or raise their kids.
5. Other people have the right to make their own decisions and their own mistakes, and they (not I) must bear the consequences of their own actions.
6. Other people have the right to feel what they feel too. Just because I might be uncomfortable with it, or I wouldn't react in the same way, doesn't give me the right to dismiss - or to judge - what another's experience might be.
7. If anyone - including me - is in a relationship where he or she feels consistently shamed or bullied or "less than", it is not only okay ... it is IMPERATIVE ... to walk away. NOBODY deserves to be treated that way. Staying in a relationship like that only encourages the abuser to continue abusing.

If this post has helped anyone identify an area where there are boundary issues or relationship inequalities that are taking place, and then figure out what it is that they need to do to take care of themselves, then I have achieved my purpose in writing it.

In Five Months

Five months ago today, our lives turned upside down. I realized it after church today, as I was doing something in the foyer that made me try to think about what the date was today ... and it hit me. Exactly what was happening that exact moment five months ago? Police were knocking on our door and talking to my husband and my oldest daughter, telling them of the accident that took the life of your youngest daughter, at the age of 21 years. 

After they delivered their news, answered any questions my loved ones had, and then left, hubby and daughter looked at each other in misery. "Someone has to tell Mom," my daughter said. 

My husband nodded... and sighed. "I'll do it."

From that day until this, I can't count the number of times I have grieved her not being here. The sense of loss will intrude at the most unexpected times and in the most unpredictable ways, regardless of where I am or what I'm doing. However, I also can't count the number of times I've been so incredibly grateful (and perhaps a little ashamed of feeling that way) that the anguish and the stress of never knowing where she was or if she was safe ... is over. And yes, I have been and continue to be overjoyed that the place where I know she is ... IS safe, IS full of laughter and peace, IS amazingly complex and ever new. She is happy there; I know it.

The pain - when it happens - is just as fresh as when it was new. The ache of missing her is something that I've come to accept - usually - as the "new normal." Yet - in a very real way - she is more a part of this family now than when she was here. We feel her presence in so many little things, in the raising of an eyebrow, in a saying, in a song. We see the antics of our kitten, Loki, who was born on the day of her funeral, as he prances around the house and is so easily distracted by a sound or a flash of light or a moth flittering in the room ... and we say how much like her he is. 

I still long to hear her telling me she loves me. I still want to hear her laugh, to feel her great huge bear hug lifting me off my feet - something that unnerved me at the time. I miss her yelling with excitement, like the time we went to Magnetic Hill and felt the vehicle rolling up the hill ... she wanted to do it again and again (and folks, she was 19 at the time...) She had us all in stitches! I miss her jokes, her zany faces and funny voices that she'd do. I miss her "fake-singing" so her friends didn't feel bad about their singing voices. She had such a lovely singing voice - I wish I could have heard it more. 

Arielle in the summer of 2010

At the same time, I feel her with me, encouraging me, cheering me on in my studies. I hear her voice in my memory sometimes when I get out of the van to go into my place of work, calling out as she did whenever she was in the vehicle, "HELP SOMEONE!" (Or if I was taking a class, "LEARN SOMETHING!") 

In five months I've learned how to function without her physical presence. I've learned so many other things too. I have learned how very many people love and care about me (who knew? certainly not me, at least not until she passed), how many lives she touched when she was here (and is still touching even now), and why she cared so much about people ... all kinds of people. I've been inspired by her zest for life, by her incredible rock-firm faith, and by her ability - in the short month between the time she realized that God was real and the time she went to see Him in person - to share that faith with people and make an impact in their lives.  

I've also learned (all over again) that it's okay to feel what I feel and not apologize for feeling it. That there is no "right way" to grieve and that some days are more "raw" than others, and some days are downright mundane. I know some people treat me as though I'm fragile every time they see me, and you know, I could have been having an almost normal day - not even "thinking about it" - until they treated me that way and then ... depending on how close to the surface my grief is, I'm either suddenly a basket case or I'm irritated ... or I just smile and wave, and let the lady doing the "Oh you poor thing" thing DO her thing (because she seems to enjoy thinking that she's making me feel better), and then walk away. On my "good days" I know that I'm not responsible for her actions; she is. And she isn't responsible for mine; I am. On the "bad days" ... just the sight of snow falling will put me in tears.

And it's all okay. It's all perfectly fine. Feelings (as I've said before) are transient (temporary) states of being that are designed to tell us things, and it's important to pay attention to the messages they give us, and to be kind to ourselves along the way. I've been paying attention and dealing with things as they come along. Part of that is keeping up with my studies: she was so proud of me for going back to school. "You'll make an awesome counsellor, Mom."

And in another five months ... I'll be ready to start another semester at grad school, and be that much closer to doing what she knew all along that I'd be good at - because after all, she kept telling me to help someone.

Lessons Learned and Face Red

It started when the Shift key on my laptop wouldn't work on the left-hand side half the time. It was annoying, but I figured my computer was getting older and it was past the warranty period, so I'd have to find a work-around. I did. 

So it started happening more often. O...kay... Fine, use the workaround all the time. 

Apparently this is a common problem,
spilling coffee on your laptop. I wouldn't recommend it.

Then one day I spilled coffee on the keyboard. 

I tried to clean it up - but - it was too late. About an hour later my beloved MacBook Pro started freaking out. The J key started repeating when I wasn't even touching it - just jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj across any window in which I put my cursor! And my P key stopped working. 

Finally I bit the bullet and decided to go to a local repair shop dedicated to MacIntosh computers. It had been highly recommended. "Can you do the repair here?" I asked. I didn't want it to take forever by sending the machine back to the manufacturer to have it repaired. 

"No problem," came the response. "It's a simple cleaning job. But we have to let it air dry after we clean it, so it will take 3 days." Wellllll... okay, I wanted it done right. So I agreed. They cleaned it, put it back together, turned it on, and it was still not working. "Oh, the casing is warped. It's Unibody construction (one-piece), so we'll have to send away for one. It will cost $400 after all is said and done." 

Hmmmm. Well, it's still way cheaper than a new MacBook. Okay.

Hubby gallantly stepped in and told me I could use his computer (Windows-based) while I was waiting. I was grateful, but it meant that I had to use his machine while sitting in his chair because it was set up a certain way... and his chair was hard on my back. Not to mention - it's Windows. My Mac had spoiled me; I freely admitted it.

So fine... I could spend less time online. We had to take turns anyway, right?

Then Hurricane Sandy put a crimp in delivery schedules for the Unibody, and I had to wait two weeks longer than I would have liked. GrrrUMP. This was really hard to swallow. Days upon days of calling in. Not here yet. Next Tuesday. Friday. No, first of next week.

The casing came in a few days ago, and they put it together and turned it on for a diagnostic. Today. (Keep in mind that I took the computer in there three and a half weeks ago.) This time it wouldn't even stay on for more than a minute. More checking - and then they said that the logic board (also known as the motherboard - the main circuit to which all the other components are attached and communicate with each other) was fried. 

Funny, I thought. All that was wrong when I took it in ... was the J key repeated, the P didn't work and the left Shift key was on the fritz. 

They suggested getting a new machine; the only thing working on the old one was the hard drive. So there'd be the initial repair bill, plus the cost of a new MacBook which - straw breaking the camel's back - they'd have to order in. That would take a week.

I asked if I could have my computer back. Well, it's in pieces, it would take another 2 days to put back together.  Hmm. Finally I said, "I want my hard drive back. Can you manage to at least give me that?" 

After that, I went to the shop where I originally bought the MacBook. I bought a Windows-based computer ... thinking that if a Mac would only last 3 years, I was better off getting a lower-cost computer with top-of-the-line virus protection than getting a new Mac. Even as much as it pained me to resort to Windows again; I'd been spoiled. 

I bought the computer and paid for it and the extended warranty plus a cooling fan to prevent it from heating up too much (my debit card said ouch), and arranged for it to be loaded up with Firefox and Skype, and set up the way I wanted for pickup tomorrow. Then, out of curiosity, (albeit morbid curiosity) I asked them if they still had information on the warranty for the original MacBook - the laptop which was at that moment laying in pieces at the not-to-be-trusted repair shop across town. 

They looked it up for me - they found it in their records.  There was a year left on my extended warranty.

Oh crap. Crap, Crap, and more Crap. Wa-ay too late now - but I wish I'd known that a month ago!! 

I should have taken it to them in the first place. 

I am SO embarrassed. 

There's no way out but to admit it. Einstein was right when he said that only two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity, and he wasn't too sure about the former.

I screwed up. Big time.

Lessons learned from all this: 

(1)   Never assume the "warranty has run out by now." CHECK.
(2)   Know when your warranty runs out, and get your machine repaired where you got it, just in case. Keep warranty and repair records in a place that is separate from your computer's hard drive - because if your computer stops working, you'll want to be able to get at the information.(3)   Never, NEVER leave anything liquid on the same surface where you keep your computer. If you have to eat soup, or drink coffee or cola or whatever when you are at your computer, make sure that:

• you set the liquid container down on a separate surface than the one on which you keep your computer, 
• you don't hover the liquid above the keyboard (i.e., turn your head to one side to drink, or push away from the computer to eat your soup!), and 
• that the surface you set your drink/liquid on is solid and doesn't allow for spillage and inadvertent dripping on the machine. 

Life lessons learned: 

(1)  No matter how bad you think things are, they can always get worse.
(2)  Life does go on - and it gets more expensive. Live with it.
(3)  Don't take yourself or your possessions too seriously. 
(4)  Sometimes you just have to cut your losses, face the music and take your lumps. Life hands you innumerable opportunities to make a royal chump of yourself. Learn to roll with the punches ... and know that it's okay to be human.

People can relate to it, for one thing.

Out of the mire

I had an experience today that was a little challenging.

I'll not go into details but it was a touch upsetting because someone misunderstood my motives and went behind my back to someone else instead of coming to me.  In trying to understand what went wrong and what I could have done differently, I did learn some lessons about human behavior and also about how insidious my desire to please people (or should I say "people-please" as a verb) really is.  

I'm learning - and relearning - and relearning - that I am a distinct person from others, and others are separate from me.  I don't HAVE to feel bad (or glad, or sad) because they feel that way.  I shouldn't expect them to feel a certain way just because I do.  I keep relearning it because ... well, it's new to me and I need practice.

This separate-ness is a hard lesson for someone whose whole life revolved around having everyone approve of me, and not making anybody mad, and wanting desperately for someone to give two hoots about me - to the point of changing myself into what I thought they wanted ... just to be accepted.  And not letting people know (out of fear they'd reject me) that they'd crossed a line. 

The truth is, I lived in an amorphous liquid mass, a pool of mire in which my identity was tied up in everyone else's - and I assumed that everyone else's identity was tied up in mine.  

In some cases it was more than in others, and I believed that that state of being - that miry homogenous existence - was called love.  

It isn't love.  It's dysfunction.  It's unhealthy: a collective consciousness in which I become swallowed up in the wishes and thoughts of others and no longer have an individuality of my own.  It's - well, for Star Trek TNG and Voyager fans, it's the Borg!  

I am a unique person, created with God-given gifts and talents.  So is this person, and that one, and all of them individually.  Learning that they exist apart from me (although our lives may touch each other in some way) has been so freeing for me.  And it is equally liberating every time I relearn it too... because it's when I start to slip back into that black, oily mire in which nothing is distinctive and it all melds together - that the lesson of detachment is the strongest and most life-giving.  It helps me to take responsibility for my own actions, and allow other people to take responsibility for theirs.  It takes the burden off me that was never intended to be there, and allows me to respond instead of react, to have compassion and confidence rather than cringing at what someone else might think. 

And that's a big deal.

Digging Deeper

Last evening at 5:30, the rumbling stopped.

But only for the weekend.  At 6:30 Monday morning, the trucks and backhoes will be back again.  After two full days of working, they've replaced the culverts in two driveways and prepared the ditches in between.  At this rate, they'll go up the other side of the street next week and down our side of the street the week after.  We'll be almost the last ones on our street to "benefit" from the "improvements" - yet we were the first to have two huge piles of soil dumped in front of our property.  

Hm. 

And we've learned that - joy of joys - the culvert we had paid someone to install two years ago will be dug up, taken out and replaced by their (larger) culvert pipes and concrete access wells.  We've been busy taking "before" pictures so that if the company wrecks anything on our property, we'll be billing the city (who is paying the company) for any work we have to get done to bring it back to the way it was before.  Like, for example, if they wreck our hedge and we need to replace it! 

The view "up the street" from just behind the central opening in our
fledgling hedge.  You can see some of the silent machinery in the distance.

That said, the whole idea of having to re-dig and redo a job that has previously been done brings up several intriguing thoughts to the surface.  The accuser that sits on my shoulder has been whispering - sometimes shouting - the insults, fast and furious, voices from my past echoing their agreement. The most common one is this:  "Nothing you ever do is good enough."

It's a bald-faced lie, of course.  But the voices persist.  

And my response is that if I had it to do all over again, given what I knew at the time, I would still have gotten the work done.  

The fact is, it was a safety issue in 2010 and I wanted my hubby to not run the risk of injuring himself on such a deep slope as that ditch when he was mowing the lawn.  Technically it's not even part of our property ... but  .... the city certainly wasn't going to mow it!  No, it was the right and healthy choice to make ... for the ditch, for safety's sake.  

The whole process  has me thinking again.  A dangerous thing, I know.  Yet it has brought something new to my way of thinking.

Sometimes, in the emotional and 'inner healing' realm, after I've dug down inside of me and "made it right" to the best of my ability - then .... I grow some more.  And when I've grown some more, there are more subtle, stubborn things that come to the surface - things that make me realize that it IS necessary to dig deeper and do it again, work a little harder than before, root out even more of the dangerous stuff, and make it easier to access should I ever need to get in there again and dig something out. 

The original internal excavation was necessary. (And I was SO glad I didn't have to face it alone!!)  It made life liveable... functional... better.  But it also opened up new possibilities, and set new standards for my inner life.  This new lifestyle isn't easy, and it isn't comfortable.  And often old, long-standing ideas bubble up from beneath - like sewer gases - and undermine the new thought patterns.  It's easy to slip back into them; I held them for such a long time.  

The fact is, the process is never over. That's why they call it a process.  There's always more to do, deeper to go, more improvements to make. And I can see cracks appearing in what I thought was solid.  I can smell things I thought were gone.  Reactions I have, some good - and some not so good.  The way I handled the hard-hat fellas, pretty good.  The way I handled a recent conversation between a relative and myself - some aspects were good, but there were things I could have done or said better, or not done and not said; these things let me know that there is still work to do inside of me: in my attitudes, by being more honest with myself, more open to God's renovations, and more willing to change.  

And that's okay.  
Sometimes it's good to dig deeper if it means an even better life.

Seeds

Don't judge each day by the harvest that you reap but by the seeds that you plant. - Robert Louis Stevenson


I heard this quote for the first time tonight. 

It reminded me of one of my favorite stories, based on a true story, called "The Man Who Planted Trees" - if you don't know it, I suggest you go to YouTube and look it up - the video (done by the National Film Board and narrated by Christopher Plummer) is about 30 minutes or so, and for this reason they have broken it up into about three parts, I think.  Anyway, the story is about how the faithful planting of trees by one man for several years, transformed a desolate wasteland into a life-filled countryside. 

I got this still from the video at this site

The truth is, we don't know what our seed-sowing will produce.  We have no idea whose life we will touch, or how - and we may never know. But someone will. 

Someone is glad I am here. Someone has been, is being, or will be blessed by something I do, say, or leave behind.  I do believe that.  I believe it is true for every person; each has a purpose that is far beyond his or her capacity to imagine.  

It is hard to say what that might be, or how it will pan out in the end.  But we all plant seeds - for good or ... not - and these seeds WILL bear fruit.  We may be curious as to the reasons why, or to our purpose, or to the "harvest" that may result.  But the harvest - small or large - doesn't matter.  Only the planting matters.  One seed after another: a smile, a kind word.  Honesty, openness, willingness, day after day, hour upon hour.  

Tiny seeds. Who knows where they will lead, how much they will grow?
I don't.  But I know Who does.

This far - no further

Lately I've been struggling with boundaries.  

Not so much with where they are - I am slowly getting a comfort level there - but how to set them .... and how to enforce them .... is the thing that's been occupying my attention the last few weeks.  

I know I have to set these boundaries, and the hardest ones to set are those that must be put up for the first time with people (especially members of one's family-of-origin, be they natural or extended) who not only don't have ANY boundaries of their own, it seems to be part of their religion to cross over others' borders too - and stomp all over the tulips while they're there.  So (this is a given) I know for certain that they won't understand. I used to think exactly as they do now.  I know that they will wonder just what the big deal is.  And that they'll judge me - and tell everyone they know how cruel and ungrateful I'm being, to get them to judge me too, so their own treatment of me seems justified.  I KNOW this. Yet I am feeling compelled to tell them why I'm setting that boundary, how disappointed I am that they wouldn't have had the good sense to know not to "go there".  How wrong their crossing it is.  How much it hurts.  And yes, a large part of me wants to stick it right back to them.


I can't lie about it.  But it doesn't make their trespassing on my emotional property any less wrong.  And here I sit.  And I question.  And I pray.  And I wonder.  

Image "Businesswoman Asking To Stop"
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How much should I tell them?  How do I tell them?  Do I tell them ANYTHING?  I write stuff so ... should I write to them?  Hmmm... any of the rare times I've ever written to someone before about something similar - it wasn't pretty.  The fangs and claws came out - on both sides.  It was pretty ugly.  I hesitate before doing that again.  

Maybe I should just be quiet and not "go there" myself.  Say nothing, but refuse to play that game - and then when they ask about it ... keep it not only simple, but short.   Yet there's this big, empty ... whatever... out there which begs, no, demands to be addressed.  The call of that thing is so strong, perhaps irresistible.  Or is it really "out there"??  Maybe it's actually "in here" - maybe it's just my own desire for self-justification.  Or maybe, as people in the recovery circles I hang around in say, it's "the codependent crazies."  That desire to gain the upper hand, to change the other person's behavior - even though I know for sure it won't - and will probably make it worse...!  

One of the things I learned in a course many years ago just popped into my head.  The course was on decision-making - and I remember the instructor saying, "The decision to do nothing is still a viable decision.  Sometimes a problem needs to just stew for a while - as uncomfortable as that is - and come to its own conclusion." 

That is the only option for me right now that has any semblance of peace attached to it.  Everything else is rife with turmoil.  So - once again I turn the whole situation - and myself - over to God, asking Him to relieve me of the bondage of self-will run riot, and to make me an example of what happens in a heart totally in love with Him.    

Pathway to Happiness - Getting out the Broom

The list I made of people that hurt me, the one that also listed what part I played in my own demise, called to me.

There was unfinished business. I'd asked God to remove the defects of character that led me to treat people the way I had, to react the way I did. But those people were still out there. With some people, I was already prepared to ask forgiveness for my behavior and attitudes. And in some cases, it was much harder. For these people, it was more difficult because I had to get past the "but they hurt me first" hurdle. I had to become willing - and this was not in my own strength but as a direct result of my prayer for God to remove my character defects - to not only ask forgiveness of these people but begin to treat them differently: with respect rather than with contempt. That was a tall order in some cases. I had to let go and trust that God would bring me to that place. I've never been a big fan of "fake it til you make it" theology. This had to be real or it wasn't going to happen.

My journal helped me keep track of all of this as it unfolded. Slowly, the list of people to whom I knew I had to make amends, started to have little check marks beside them. As I went on I knew - for the most part - who I could approach and who I couldn't. Not primarily because I was scared, (okay, well, the whole thing scared me - I've always hated confrontation even if it's not about me!) but also because of their own fragility and poor self-image. With these people, it was enough just to begin to see them differently, to treat them with more respect and kindness. However, the times I refrained from apology were few and far between; usually God would (I was going to say hound) keep gently reminding me of this person or that person on the list.

My kids were on the list too. I remember what happened as I sincerely apologized to my oldest (who was near the top of the list). She took the brunt of a lot of my "stuff" in her growing-up years. Now she was 20 years old. She listened carefully to me. And she forgave me - no holds barred. We talked for a long time after that, heart to heart ... Finally she said with tears in her eyes, "Wow, Mom. That really means a LOT. I'm so glad you came to me and we could talk like this - it all makes sense now!"

As I took that step of going to people individually and apologizing for specific things and general attitudes, there was a feeling of vulnerability in me; it became so strong that I could almost touch it. But as people I loved forgave me freely, one after another, there was a growing sense of freedom as well, and - yes, I'll say it - happiness. There was an inner lightness, a delight to which I was not accustomed.

I was curious about the feeling of vulnerability, until I realized something - again from the story of Lazarus. Once the wrappings started to come off, guess what was underneath? He was naked under there! So here he is, still stinking of the slime from the mummy-wrappings (I'll leave that to your imagination; if you've ever watched a crime scene investigation show on TV then you'll know what I'm thinking). He's standing there totally naked, in front of friends and family. Someone else has to give him their cloak probably - (and believe me, they won't want it back!!) to cover his nakedness. He'll have to spend 7 days purifying himself of the filth because that is what a practicing Jew did if he even touched a dead body. He WAS a dead body.

So I learned to live with that feeling; it was a sensation of being exposed for what in many cases was the first time. It meant the wrappings were loosening and coming off.

That feeling of happiness was worth my new-found transparency - and discomfort.

Whenever I'm tempted to hold onto or grab back some of those resentments and dance with them - and I am tempted because I lived like that for so long that it's familiar, even comfortable, I inevitably feel the maggots start to gnaw at me again. So to avoid that return to the limiting, one-sided, narrow-minded and dogmatic prison I was in, I TRY to remember the smell of death. I TRY to remember the wrappings. The bondage. The pain I put people through. And I TRY to remember the new depths of relationship to which God has brought me and the promise of even deeper intimacy with Him.

Do I really want to sacrifice that freedom ... to go back to the tomb ?

God wasn't finished, however. There was even more.

Pathway to Happiness - Taking Responsibility

In my last post I talked about the list I made of all the people who had hurt me in my life, how the wounds they inflicted made me feel, what they made me believe about myself and how that made me act toward others.

As I learned to forgive others in the process I described in my last post, there was something else that started to stir in my consciousness.

Not in every case, to be sure, but in a lot of cases I contributed to the strife and bitterness that existed between myself and the people who hurt me. I either played a part in that injury, reacted badly to it and ended up hurting them back, or out of my pain and powerlessness, I hurt others (sometimes many years later) who reminded me of them.

It was time to take responsibility for my part in my own demise. Because I had written these things down on my list, I started to see an emerging pattern, a theme of behavior and attitude that was not healthy, that kept me in a place of powerlessness and victimization, and in reactionary over-boldness and fear-based aggression. These were things that could only be called character flaws - like arrogance, self-pity, paranoia, rage, and selfishness. The more I saw them emerge, the more sickened I was by them, by how tied up in knots I was because of these defects in my psychological map. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't rid myself of them; this I learned very quickly. From previous experience, I absolutely knew that I had no power to deliver myself from these things. I needed help - serious help. And who better to help me than the One who made me??

I'd even gone to Him before with this whole bag of tricks I had built up - unsuccessfully because the next day (or hour) it would all come rushing back. I'd go to Him and tearfully confess to Him my failings. But there were no specifics. It was "all the times I failed You," and "all my sins."

That wasn't going to cut it. No, I had to be specific. I had to tell Him WHAT I had done, WHO I did it to, WHEN and WHERE it happened, WHY I did it and HOW it was ripping me to shreds inside.

I had to take responsibility for my own actions - before God. I had to admit to Him (and to myself, and to someone else - another human being whom I trusted completely) that there were things - ugly things - about me that I was so very ready for Him to take away from me. There was no holding back, no reservation about this readiness. It was high time. I was sick enough of the way I was, and I became entirely prepared, utterly desperate for God to step in and change me.

And then, bereft of my own resources, without demanding, arm-twisting, pleading or cajoling, I simply asked Him to remove my shortcomings. In detail - each character flaw, each unhealthy attitude.

So, knowing that this was way bigger than me, and that I was praying for the very thing that God so wanted to do in me, I just watched and waited for Him to work.

And miracle of miracles, slowly but surely . . . He did.

. . . more to follow . . .