Flowers and Hearts

We're coming up on one of the hardest times of year for me - Mothers Day. It's difficult to wade through the messages everywhere that all mothers are saintly. Some just ... aren't ... No matter what anyone else believes, nobody really knows what goes on behind closed doors ... except the ones behind those doors. Some kinds of memories can sour the pleasures of the present.

And of course, the annual event (and its hype) is also a reminder of one of my children who is not here anymore to wish me a happy Mothers Day. . . that kind of pain never goes away, but is more keenly felt on the 2nd Sunday in May.

For those of you who are fortunate enough to have had a wonderful mother, I am glad that you did. If your wonderful mother is still living, be sure to tell her - and show her (not just one day a year) - that you love and appreciate her. That means a lot more than gushy words in a card, pretty flowers or corsages, and chocolates once a year.

If your wonderful mother has passed away at any time (and especially recently) - I grieve with you for having lost someone very special in your life.

And if (like me) how you feel about your mom is "complicated" and you have mixed feelings (at best) about Mother's Day - and especially IF you are a mother with that kind of background ... might I offer my perspective?  I have learned through trial and error (mostly error) that the best way to survive the last week of April and the first half of May (with all the advertising campaigns capitalizing on guilt and shame) is to focus on the present and BE a good mom all year round. 

A good mom is one whose children feel safe to be themselves around her.
 

Photo "Dandelions" courtesy of sattva at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

"Now" is important.  Now matters. Continue breaking the cycle of bad parenting, abuse, and/or neglect. Treat your children - no matter how young - like the real people they are, not just as miniature extensions of yourself. Don't set them up to be laughed at - and NEVER laugh at them or call them names, or dismiss their "little feelings" (there is NOTHING "little" about feelings) as "cute" just because the reason for their distress seems minor to you. 

Respect their boundaries. Take their side. Celebrate their accomplishments. Go to bat for them when they are treated unfairly.  Say please and thank you to your children, and MEAN it. Say you're sorry to their face (and MEAN it) when you mess up. Teach them basic housekeeping and cooking techniques, do these tasks together, and teach them the joy of helping others for its own sake, not to avoid punishment or gain a material reward.  They will remember for the rest of their lives the way you treat them when they are little.  They will also remember how you treat others who have little or no power, and when they grow up, they will most likely treat others the same way.

And when the day comes (whether they're three or sixty-three) when they want to honour you for being that good Mom - and they will - don't rob them of that joy.  Smile and say thank you.  Even if all they bring you is dandelions, if it comes from the heart, see the heart behind it, look them in the eyes with all the love you have inside, and say thank you.

Same same

There is a [word-] sign used by the local deaf community that means "Same" - it looks like the ASL sign for the letter Y - as shown - but the hand is not raised up but facing the floor (in other words, palm side down). The hand goes back and forth horizontally a couple of times between the two items or people being compared, as if sliding back and forth on an unseen table. If the deaf person talks when he or she signs, the words that come out are "Same-same." 
The idea usually is that the thumb and pinky point toward what or who is involved in that comparison. 

That doesn't mean that differences don't exist. It just means that at some level, there is something essentially the same about those two things or people. 

Illustration "Sign Language And The
Alphabet,the Letter Y" by
taesmileland at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

And that sign can be a complete sentence when the second component is added - facial expression. Take for example the comparison between two people. I've seen my deaf friends sign "same-same" over the years with amazement, sympathy, sarcasm, boredom, delight, disgust, and a whole host of other reactions that convey tone of voice - something that (as yet) the printed word cannot do very well. 

I was thinking about this sign a couple of days ago and it came to me that no matter how same-same people think they are, there is always something that is different. And not just different, VASTLY different - just like the pinky and the thumb point in nearly opposite directions. 

And no matter how different people are, there is always something that is the same between them, just as the pinky and the thumb are part of the same hand and signifying (in their differences) that they are same-same. Basic feelings are the same regardless of gender, gender identity or socioeconomic class; the colour of the blood is identical regardless of the colour of the skin. 

I might feel uncomfortable around someone because of our differences, but looking for common ground helps me to accept that person and acknowledge his or her right to take up space. And ... (this is a more subtle but just as important a distinction) just because I might share an identity label (same workplace, same church, same family relationships for example) with someone else, it doesn't give me the right to assume that this person thinks or believes or has the same values as I do. 

Or that the person can automatically be trusted because of that one similarity. 

Or that someone of another group is automatically untrustworthy because of the differences between us. 

"Peoples is peoples," a wise man once said. (Pete from Pete's Diner in Jim Henson's "The Muppets Take Manhattan", haha). More and more, I'm coming to live my life on that simple principle. Each person is capable of both good and evil. 

My quest in recovery from the chains of my own limitations is to find the people in my life that I can trust, the ones who help me be truly me (without trying to make me exactly the same as they are in every respect), and then surround myself with them. And to discover those - while I might care about them - who are toxic to me, who try to manipulate or control me ... and to distance myself from them. To make sure that the "sameness" between my circle of friends and myself is concentrated in the things that matter most to me, and to let go of the differences that would tear me down and hinder my growth.

It's a tall order, but no other human being has the right to do it for me.

Plugged in and turned off. Or on.

My daughter's iPhone 4S took a hissy fit yesterday after almost three years of faithful service. The decline happened slowly. It kept less and less of a charge over time. Finally, she had to recharge it four times a day (or keep it plugged in), and there were other difficulties that made it kind of 'high maintenance' for her. But she loved her iPhone so much that when Apple went to a more bells-and-whistles and a less reliable-and-dependable iPhone a couple of years ago, she refused to upgrade. 

"It's my baby," she said. She didn't even upgrade the operating system on it. (I envied her after I made my software upgrade - but there was no going back; the deed was done). 

So she took it in to the dealer to avail herself of the extended warranty. After two to three hours of frustrating back-and-forth, the answer came in. Water damage from humidity (last time she dropped it, it was into a snowbank and was 2 years ago, and she got it out right away and dried it off before water could enter). Water damage. One of only two things the warranty didn't cover. 

Ouch. 

But - she needed a phone - and since Steve Jobs passed away, it appears that Apple hasn't come up with anything that even remotely compares to the 4 and 4S. So-o, she switched to a different (Android-type) phone. Some things she likes better, and she knows that she will eventually like this phone as much as the other one; others, she sits and pouts and says, "I miss my baby." 

I get that. 

But I also get when it is time to say goodbye. In electronics and with people.

When the other party needs constant recharging, constant checking, constant stroking, constant reassurances that things are okay - and punishes you when put on "standby" even for a short time ... perhaps it's not all that healthy. It's plugged in all the time - but that means you're tied down. And turned off. When only ONE person is being "fed" in a relationship, it's time to seriously take stock.

Not that relationships are anything like cell phones ... are they? Okay, SOME similarities. 

It's difficult. It's hard to let go of something that - for a while - has brought you some happiness. Even if that happiness was mixed with pain. When there is a growing sense of obligation rather than appreciation, it's time to re-evaluate. When you're constantly feeling "less than" (in other words, less important than) the other person - how is that healthy? 

Image "Low Battery" provided by
David Castillo Dominici at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Perhaps it's time to recharge your OWN battery. Perhaps that caring for that other person has kept you running on empty and it's time to take some time for yourself. You can't give away what you don't have; replenish the reserves. Getting your identity and strength from another human (who has limitations just like you) drains you in ways that you may not realize. Finding out who you are and feeding that person inside (getting plugged in and turned on) will go a long way toward figuring out where that other person fits into your life. If at all. 

Unplugging the other person from your battery might seem cruel, selfish, and un-giving - but until he or she finds out how to self-charge, that draining will keep on happening (if not with you then with the next person who pays attention). Plugging into your own energy resources will feel awkward at first - it always does - but you are the only you that you have, and it's important to look after you.

It's amazing how freeing that is. It might not feel like it at first, but there is an energy build-up that slowly makes itself known - and upon which you can rely.

I know because I've lived that. I've had to remove people from my life who were sapping me of strength. Sometimes I miss those people - but I don't miss the feeling of being constantly given the message "Low Battery." 

Food for thought, at the very least.

Breathe. In and out. Repeat.

Some days just pass by without me taking much notice; they seem normal and uneventful, as if nothing tumultuous has ever happened to me or to those I love. 

And other times, I have fleeting moments where I need to remind myself to breathe, to let go, to concentrate on doing the next right thing. 

"Waterfall In Forest" - courtesy of
phonsawat at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Still others are entire days when I need to remind myself continually of those things: specific days such as a birthday or an anniversary, a statutory holiday like Christmas or Easter or Thanksgiving. At those times, I wonder how I'll get through the day, remind myself to breathe, in and out, and repeat as needed. And it's hard, even with relying heavily on my relationship with God and reminding myself that "He's got me."  

And ... miraculously ... I get through it. 

I had a day like that recently - our baby girl's birthday was last Wednesday. She would have been 22 years old. Try as I might to treat it like "just any other day" ... it was difficult to concentrate and I kept making silly, stupid mistakes that just weren't "me." 

The love of friends and family helped me as I breathed in, and breathed out. Giving myself permission to grieve without guilt or shame was key to surviving the experience. And love, love expressed in tangible ways, was the healing balm that I needed. God usually finds a way to remind me that He cares by showing me that people care. This particular time it was through a thoughtful gift from a friend miles away from here. 

Photo "Daisy Flower" by
markuso at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Someone reminded me a few weeks ago that the pain of an initial physical injury (such as when I tore the cartilage in my shoulder on August 7, 2006) can be remembered, but not brought back and relived or re-experienced with the same intensity. (Not that I'd want to!!) 

However, the pain of an emotional injury is just as fresh and excruciating as its memory. If the emotionally painful experience is remembered, the emotional pain comes with it. 

What I didn't know until several months ago is that the brain releases the exact same chemicals when experiencing emotional pain as when having physical pain. It's therefore crucial to be gentle with ourselves when life throws a monkey-wrench into our daily experience. 

"It will pass. It will," a still small Voice says inside of me. "Breathe."

"Again." 

And I do. And it passes. 

And the next day life could return completely back to normal. And it often does. 

But I'm so glad that when those times come, when the billows roll over me and knock me around, I know I can count on Love to be whatever I need it to be for me at the time I need it. Even if it's hard. 

Love is Life's breath.

So I breathe. In and out. And ... repeat as needed.

Breaking a Few Eggs

I'm the kind of person who likes to feel safe. I know that some people thrive on conflict; I'm not one of them. I like to have things planned out, predictable, and no-risk. 

There comes a time, though, when it's necessary to take a few risks to achieve a desired result, to no longer settle for the "status quo." The expression, "You can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs," sometimes applies. 

Thanks to Apolonia at www.freedigitalphotos.net for
this photo called "Omelette with Vegetables"

Lately, though I can't exactly pinpoint when or how it started, I've been taking a few risks in my personal life, in my spiritual growth, in my finances, and in my professional life. Yes, it's outside my comfort zone; yes, it's scary. Very scary at times. However, I came to the point where the same-old-same-old was just not acceptable. Something had to change. My attitudes slowly evolved and I found myself making choices that I would never have considered even a year ago. 

Even something as simple as expressing an opinion that might not be considered popular, was unthinkable for me several months ago, but I find myself doing it on occasion. Just on occasion... but at least it happens instead of me suppressing my feelings and suffering for it physically.... with symptoms that typically range from headaches to acid reflux to backaches.

Do I know how all this happened or what started the ball rolling? No, not exactly. In a way, I kind of grew into it, as my relationships with myself, with God, and with others healed, and I automatically began to feel more comfortable inside my own skin. All I know is that the more I look after myself, the more I let go of the things in my life over which I have no control, and the more I refuse to try to influence the outcome of other people's stuff, I find that I have more energy for the things in my life that I can change ... and I also notice that my body fights less against me. 

That's one omelet I could relish.

Going Back to Go Forward

Our daughter had her knee surgery yesterday afternoon. (See my previous posts). 

Leading up to the surgery, she was starting to be able to get around the house without her crutches, but she was still limping, and the knee was quite fragile. Yet - she managed. She convinced herself that she was fine, even though the doctor had put her off work for the duration. She was only "getting by."

Yesterday, she went from "getting by" back to being what she calls "a cripple." The feeling of helplessness is hard to escape - and for her, it is embarrassing to have to ask for help to do the simplest things. 

Yet, the damage to the knee was something that would not have healed correctly on its own. It needed that operation, even if it feels like a major set-back. 

And now, she deals with post-op pain and (what is worse) that feeling of needing to depend on others. She is housebound for almost the next two weeks. The loss of control over where she goes and what she does is quite real. Even the most simple and taken-for-granted movements are things for which she has to ask for help: getting up from lying down, keeping that leg free of encumbrances that would pull on the stitches - even under the splint! - so keeping it elevated slightly so it doesn't get caught in blankets or between sofa cushions!

The surgery - in the final analysis and if all goes as planned - will have made the difference between just "getting by" and "moving forward." 

This was a few months ago, shortly after the
initial injury. The current splint looks
similar, but is totally rigid.

However, it doesn't seem like that right now. 

In her more reasonable and lucid moments, she agrees that it will be good to walk without wincing, to be able to not only function but to thrive. 

But now - now is hard.

Her dilemma resonates with me on an emotional and spiritual level. I can relate quite a bit.

Her struggle reminds me that it is pretty easy to get used to living life with a limp - when I don't have to. 

Getting better, though, sometimes involves going back to the place where I was injured, submitting to what can be painful emotional surgery, and then, paying attention to my most simple actions and reactions.  Even if it means feeling some of those same feelings again: helplessness, anger, sadness, pain - relearning lessons I thought I'd learned before. It's embarrassing. It's unsettling. It's necessary.

It's necessary, if I want to heal in the right way, because even though it feels very awkward at first, those new behaviors are the pattern on which a whole new lifestyle is built. 

I don't want to just limp along for the rest of my life. 

It's awkward for me to ask for help - but I need help because I can't do this alone. It's awkward for me to say to someone with a problem, "No, I can't fix that." It's awkward for me to say how I feel when I am feeling it, to confront someone with something he or she might not want to hear. It's awkward for me to go back to where something has gone awry and correct it - set a boundary, enforce one, respect one, look after myself, and/or pray. Yet, it's so crucial. 

It's the only way for healing to do me any lasting good.

Want Not

In my last post, I talked about growing up as a child of parents who grew up in the Depression.

My dad was a factory worker; he worked on an assembly line making oil stoves for Fawcett, before the company was taken over by Enterprise. He didn't make much money, and we lived a very simple, very spartan life.  

To keep the "past due" notices at bay, in desperation my mother hired her services out to various clients as a weekly housekeeper, when I was eight years old. By the time I was ten, she was helping to pay off debts that had piled up: car loans, oil bills, grocery bills, even. At least the collectors weren't calling anymore. Yet money was still a major issue; there seemed to be barely enough to survive, even with a large vegetable garden. Extras were almost unheard of. 

As I mentioned in my previous post, the lessons we had learned about not wasting what little we had, paid off, and I can't ever remember a time when there was no food to put on the table. 

Yet, there were times when I would "want." I longed for a certain lifestyle that I could never have. I spent a lot of time imagining and fantasizing about what we'd do if a lot of money dropped into our laps. 

At times, it seemed as though our lives revolved around money. Not the way rich people's lives can ... but ours was more of a "poor man's greed." We were preoccupied with saving what we had for the essentials to the point of re-using milk bags to freeze food, for example. We wondered if we'd ever get enough ahead to have something nice: we were thrust from pillar to post by circumstances beyond our control, and the wolf of potential poverty was never far from our door.  All it would have taken was a prolonged illness, or some sort of disaster like a fire or a flood or even a car accident - and we would have been left with nothing. We all were keenly aware of it, and yet we didn't want other people to know how close the wolf was... a classic case of "poor man's pride."

Photo "Between Seasons" courtesy of Evgeni Dinev at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

It wasn't until many years later, after I had moved away from that atmosphere and had lived many years as a wife and mother, that I realized how it was possible to "want not." 

Always in my life I had looked away to what I didn't have, the next big purchase or the next nice thing I wanted, as if I were trying to make up for my parents having to eke out a living. 

I only focused on what I didn't have. 

It never crossed my mind to be grateful for the good things that I did have.

When my life took a 180 degree turn in February 2009, I learned a whole new way of looking at life, one that demanded rigorous honesty with myself, one that required an attitude - a daily attitude - of thankfulness and gratitude. Thankfully, there were those who came alongside of me and modeled that lifestyle for me ... because I didn't have any clue how to do it; nobody had ever showed me before. Nevertheless, as I learned how to let go of unrealistic expectations and to live in "Today" instead of "If Only" - a new experience for me - I began to notice something I hadn't expected.

I smiled more. I was more relaxed, more ... content. Less and less did I care about "what if" and "if only." (I can't say that's disappeared completely, but it's a work in progress!) I could live more and more in Today; I could be present in the Present and not fret about the future or rail against circumstances (or against people) I couldn't change. 

Learning how to live in the Now helped me to allow others be who they were, and gave me permission to be who I was... and am. I began to feel a little more comfortable inside my own skin. That was a new feeling, too.

I started to "Want Not." I started being content with exactly who I was - and with where I was. 

I began to realize that I was right where God intended me to be, and I finally determined to just do the next right thing. It doesn't sound complicated - and it isn't - but it was at the point of desperation, because life wasn't working for me, where I was willing to let go of my old lifestyle. After I did, and I started to get unwrapped from all the constrictive, nasty grave-clothes I'd had wrapped around me all my life, my life was slowly transformed.

Of course, I am far from having arrived ... but all I can say, now that I'm on this journey, is that I wouldn't want to go back to the way it was before. 

Not for anything.

Learning to sit tight - and then some

"It won't be long now. Sit tight." This is a common statement I've been encouraging myself with lately. 

Are the days something to be endured
or something to be embraced

Diminishing "today"

I've been waiting for a few weeks for certain specific promised events to happen. The timing of these events is completely out of my control, and yet I am figuratively kicking at the fence, checking the mailbox - as if by doing so, I could hurry it up - and the "new me" recognizes that it's the "old me" that's so impatient. 

I don't complain as much, so I'm better at waiting than I used to be. 

Or am I?  My former obsession with controlling the end result by harping and hounding, by ranting and railing, has given way to a more subtle monitoring of the situation, trying to manipulate or at least watch what's going on. 

Even knowing when something is likely to happen doesn't help, because then I cross the days off the calendar in my mind, and fall into the "I can't wait" mind-set. When I catch myself saying, "I can't wait" for this or that to happen, that's when the alarm bells start going off. Viewing this or that day, or this or that group of days (such as Monday to Friday?) as something to be endured before I can begin to live or enjoy life, is completely opposed to the lifestyle that I have adopted the last few years: "Live fully today." If I am marking time until some future date happens, aren't I wasting the potential for joy and happiness that I could experience today? Can't I find something about this day for which I can be grateful?

Perhaps I need to encourage myself with a different message - like "One day at a time" or "Let go and let God" ... and ask myself an action-inducing question, like, "What can I do to accept and enjoy today just as it is?"

Hmm.

Let Go; Let God

One of the most important things I'm learning -- and re-learning ... and re-learning, as many times as it takes! -- is the importance of living my life according to the motto, "Let Go; Let God."  I have that saying on my whiteboard right by the doorway, so it's the first thing I see when I arrive home, and the last thing I see before I leave.  

I've been focusing a lot on the letting go part, because after so many years of hanging on as if my life AND the lives of my loved ones depended on it, it's been so difficult to learn how to relax my iron-fisted grip on things I thought I had to control, know about, and monitor.  So much so that the letting God part kind of felt like an afterthought: "Oh yeah, right. That too."  

I was kind of worried about that.  I fretted a bit that I might have left God out of the equation, and I didn't want to do that.  So as I discussed my concerns with God (yeah well, some folks call that praying ... I guess...) a thought occurred to me that hadn't before, even though it was staring me in the face the whole time.  

Letting Go is PART OF
Letting God. 

Well duhhh...  How could I have missed that!

It's a vital part.  Of course! Letting God doesn't just mean that I ask Him to do what needs to be done in my life, in other people's lives.  It means that I trust Him to do the right thing, and that I let go of my need to control how He does that, suggest ways for Him to do it, or try to twist His arm into producing the outcome I desire.  He decides.  HE decides!  

Even if I don't like some of the things along the way.  Even if it's scary.  Even if I or the people I love have to go through stuff I'd rather they - or I - not go through.  I let go and give it to God and I keep my hands off it - because that's part of letting God.  Letting God means I let Him BE God - without interference.  That I get to accept whatever He decides, and sometimes, I even get to watch Him work.

That's pretty cool.

Let it happen

When I was younger, I had flashbacks a LOT of things that happened to me when I was a child. Horrible images, re-experiencing feelings and thoughts I thought I had buried far beneath. I was determined not to ever let ANYone get the better part of me.  Ever.  Again.  

I still have them ... just not quite as often.

But I'm starting to have flash-forwards.  Based on some more recent things that have happened.  Only this time I wasn't the victim (even though at the time I felt like I was ... a perpetual state not that long ago).  I was victimizing my kids by trying to control their behavior - through intimidation or manipulation.  

Because I'm a Christian, and because I wanted them to be as well, I would try to control their decisions by 'hinting' at the idea that they might be sinning and hurting themselves (and me, obviously) as a result.  Or I'd send them a poem that made them feel guilty for the way they were treating me (or each other.)  Or I'd quote Scripture to them.  Or ... well, you get the picture.  

The problem with that picture was that it had the opposite effect of the one I wanted.  Every time.  In fact, my kids coined a word for my behavior.  

Christianazi. 

Ouch.  That hurt.  

Still, I didn't get it. Even when they told me point blank!!  I took it as my children "persecuting" me because I was "standing up for what was right."  Or trying to "raise them right." Or "protecting" them. 

Found this photo at THIS SITE

Nothing could have been further from the truth. What I was really doing was causing them to reject me and turn their backs on everything I stood for (including Christianity, if it made me into a religious control freak) and shut me out of their lives.  I was doing it because I couldn't stand not being in control of something... ANYthing.

They hated being treated that way - as if their wishes and feelings didn't matter, just mine.  They withdrew from me and didn't confide in me (for fear of being judged/jumped all over). And they were right.  I could dress it up and I did for years: I was trying to spare them the heartache I had known by being "out there" and getting some pretty hard knocks. But I'd been unaware that whole time of something important.  In trying to protect them, I also shielded them from experiencing the consequences of their own actions.  I was hurting them, not helping them.

As part of my recovery from this addiction to controlling others, I realized one day not only what I was doing to them, but to myself for putting me through the pressure of taking responsibility for their actions, and yes, even to God for keeping my kids away from the opportunity to find Him for themselves (something He wants, very much!) ... exactly by having this "you gotta do it my [or the Bible's] way" attitude. 

I took another look at the teachings of Jesus - and discovered something rather alarming - -  actually, earth-shattering to someone who had built her whole life on trying to "make it happen" in other people's lives.  Jesus only told people who were following Him to act a certain way.  He told His followers to NOT expect other people to toe the line ... because only God can change a heart and give the motivation and the power to live life His way.

It wasn't my job to change them, protect them, rescue them, make them choose the right thing.  I was robbing that away from God!  And the result?  They ran in the opposite direction!

Can you blame them?  Nobody wants to be made to feel lower than a snake's underbelly just for having a different opinion or take on things than someone else. 

Huh.  So all of my wrangling, tears, temper tantrums, and guilt-trips were for nothing. I was pushing my loved ones away from the very thing I most wanted them to embrace!!  

In one of the hardest life-changes I've ever had to make, I decided to let go and let God have my kids (and my husband, for that matter!) and to TRUST HIM to do in them what I could never do. To stop being Jimminy Cricket and stop fearing what might happen to them if they didn't follow my advice ... and LET IT HAPPEN.  LET them walk away if they needed to.  LET them make a choice I wouldn't make.  LET them experience the consequences of said choice.  No guilt trips.  NO trying to manipulate the outcome.  

Yes, be a safe place to land. YES, forgive.  But LET them be who they were, even if it wasn't what I wanted.  LET them have their own opinions on things even if those opinions were diametrically opposed to mine. They were nearly adults at the time ... I was treating them like they were still six years old.  Letting go and learning to let it happen was one of the hardest, the most frightening, and the most rewarding things I ever did. 

Today, my kids still make choices I don't necessarily like all the time.  I'm learning to let them know what I think without telling them what THEY should think.  I'm learning to enjoy them and accept them for the way they are, and not try to change them.  They have slowly started to open up to me, like flower-buds in their proper season.  I've been surprised at the amazing variety of colours I see in them, colours that I never would have dreamed were there.  

And there is something else now in our house which was so rare before, and which is happening more and more often as I learn to let go and allow life to unfold for them without trying to force it.  It's like music to me.

It's the strangest and most beautiful sound.

Laughter.

Cone of Silence

It was the way things were.  Nobody thought anything of it.  Nobody talked about it, least of all the ones who were the most affected.  And everyone thought that their situation was the same as everyone else's.  We all used the same language when we talked about (or was it around) it - each knew his or her own reality but sadly, nobody else's.  If we'd known, maybe we'd have figured out that something was wrong.  But nobody said a word.  There was a cone of silence around the topic.  We got together, we played catch, we skated on the pond - and we each assumed that the others' lives were just the same as ours.

That's how it went on for so long before the truth came out.

The truth was, someone (and maybe a lot of someones) in our number was a victim of child abuse.  Someone's parent was unable to control his or her anger, and took it out on his or her child.  Often.  And not just physically, but verbally, emotionally. Maybe there was even sexual abuse happening.  The home - supposedly a haven of rest and safety in a scary, mixed-up world - was in fact a war zone.  Except that the enemy lived under the same roof.  And the victim never knew when he or she would be targeted again.  Every time, he or she vowed to him or herself (whether consciously or subconsciously) that once free of this place, nobody would ever be able to push him or her around again. That things would be different. 


Ruled by fear - or anger - or both - the child became an adult and moved out. But the pain, the fear, the anger - these reactions were constantly in the driver's seat.  They controlled the person's behavior so he or she pushed people away or smothered them with either need or caretaking, whichever the case, and the misery never ended.  Like soldiers with PTSD, this child (now an adult) was always on "red alert." The danger was past - but not on the inside.  Relationships were not a safe place.  There was no "off" switch.

Here's the link for this photo

Abuse.  It's an ugly subject, made all the more subjective because of the pain and the stigma associated with it.  Fingers point - more point back.  Children live in denial all their lives and honestly believe they deserved it.  

Nobody deserves it.

And the pain can stop.  But it takes honesty.  Brutal honesty with one's self.  Not just about the self but about the past.  The truth really does set free.  The trick is in untangling the lies and separating their roots, untangling those tendrils of shame from things as they really were.  The cone of silence MUST come off.  Healing can't happen until we start talking about it, exposing it to the light.  If it stays in the dark, it thrives like the monster it is, and gets bigger.  Buried perhaps, but stronger and stronger. The light of truth does dispel the darkness of that network of lies.

That takes time. A LOT of time.  And a lot of help from someone else, someone who's been through it before, someone flesh and blood who can walk alongside as the one who's recovering works through those things.  More importantly, it takes a lot of help from a Power far greater than any human can give.  

I know.  I was one of those kids who played ball and thought everyone's life sucked just like mine.  

And I got help.

Cornered

She knew she had only seconds to escape.

She'd seen that enraged look before.  She'd followed the quick glance that the woman, twice her height and over twice her weight, aimed toward the hook on the wall where they both knew there was a man's belt hanging for just such a time as this.  Her body suddenly felt flushed, tingling with inner electricity.  

She darted like a frightened deer through the opening between the woman's elbow and her waist.  She didn't think; she reacted.  She could hear heavy footsteps behind her, trying to keep up.  

She ran - no - clambered on all fours up the stairs like a spider monkey running from a jaguar, panic rising in her throat.  The steps followed. She dove into the nearest room - where to hide? - the deepest closet in the house!  She pushed her way past the dresses, trousers and coats inside, her breaths coming in small gasps, her pulse beating loudly in her own ears.  She didn't know it, but she was cornered. 

The footfalls stopped.  The woman's hand snaked inside, fished around relentlessly and grasped her by the arm, wrenching her from her safe refuge.  She could not stop herself from being surprised by the woman's face; it was at close range and contorted with rage, just like it was every time.  Yet she convinced herself she did not recognize it.  Her only recourse was to appease - in the split second before the first blow fell, she filled her lungs with air and screamed at the top of her lungs, "I'msorryI'msorryI'msorry...." over and over, even though she didn't know what she had done wrong to deserve this level of reaction. But she must have done something horrible.

Screams melded with sobbing as she, to no avail, continued to apologize.  Was it for existing? Was it for making the woman angry?  She didn't think of these things - she was only trying to get away - every twist of her body to escape the blows only opened a new angle of attack, fresh skin on which a welt would soon form. 

She didn't know how many times the arm raised and fell - how many stripes the cracked strip of leather would leave. It never crossed her mind to count them, to show them to someone.  She felt too guilty for the bruises the woman would show her on her own hand later - bruises left on the parent by gripping the belt to strike the child.  Eventually - seconds or minutes later - the hitting stopped. The strong hand released the girl's arm and the heavy footsteps receded, leaving the child to continue her sobbing in a heap on the floor, totally broken - irreparably damaged where no one could see: deep inside. Not by welts that would heal, but by the knowledge that she was of no worth.  

She was only eight years old - already a discarded old woman in her heart - her childhood, her personhood ripped from her again and again.

It is forty years later.  Now the woman, the former aggressor, seems so much smaller physically than her daughter - who herself has children of her own.  

Yet in the former daughter's soul, she is still very much afraid: afraid of being attacked, cornered like prey - and devoured.  The scars on her spirit have marked her throughout her life, left her perpetually sobbing inside, calling out soundlessly to everyone who will listen that she is sorry, she is responsible, it's her fault - whatever the problem is or who might be to blame. Her fear, her woundedness, her determination with never being out of control ever again, of controlling and manipulating those she loves in order to protect them, has driven her own husband and children away from being able to connect with her, and likewise alienated people who would have offered their friendship.  

She is unhappy and alone, even though on the outside, all seems to be perfectly fine.  Her external facade has held, perhaps with a few cracks.  But she bears within the burden of all the shame of all those terrible rages, the feeling of being cornered, of that all-too-common breathless, unspeakable terror.

She snaps out of her reverie, and catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror.  She looks into her own face in the glass, and sees the little girl's heart behind those eyes, the one who is hurting, who is abandoned, who is lonely. She takes a deep breath and lets it out, slowly. This is going to take some time. 

She glances down at the trembling page in her hands and reads the words on it, for the first time of many, many times, reads to the frightened little girl inside:

"What happened to you was not your fault.  It was wrong.  And it was her problem, it was never yours."  
"You ARE worth something; you are worth a great deal."  
"You can be yourself - you don't have to change into anyone or anything else." 
"You are precious, you are treasured, you are loved."  "
"Your opinion matters."  
"What you feel is normal for what you have been through."  
"People can like you exactly as you are."  
"You can feel what you feel.  It's okay.  You can cry, you can laugh."  
"You can like yourself.  You can love yourself."
"You CAN heal."

Living in balance

You can't give what you don't have.

It's a simple concept... but over and over again I have tried to offer help, whether emotional or practical, out of a place of want, of deficit, when I was just scraping the bottom to meet my own needs.  I ended up feeling used, put-upon, taken for granted, and yes, resentful. 

It's like the teeter-totter at the playground when the big kid gets on the other end. No matter how the smaller kid jumps up and down on his or her end, he or she is suspended, legs dangling, unable to get down and not having any fun at all.  When life is out of balance - when we pay more attention to the needs and demands of others (when they carry more weight) than our own needs, then there is the potential for a lot of resentment.

The lifestyle I've been practicing for the last three years or so is based on taking care of three central things in a specific order: 

(1) relationship with God, 

(2) relationship with the self, and 

(3) relationship with others, 

and then maintaining and strengthening those three relationships in that same order. The principle is that one must first have a full cup before one has the capacity to fill another's.  Sounds simple enough.  But the old lifestyle I had -  which still lures me back into its clutches occasionally - was just the opposite.  Give til it hurts, and then give some more. My motivation was that I wanted people to be grateful enough to do what I wanted them to do. Change, be more attentive, stop drinking, whatever.  And the result of that was that people first of all didn't change, but they expected me to keep giving, keep putting myself out, and then they wondered why I was so cranky.  Hmmm.  

When I learned that I was powerless over other people, that I was actually trying to be God in their lives - and without His permission! - things started to change.  I started focusing on what mattered most: my relationship with Him and then with myself.  Once I felt more at ease in my own skin, and was able to let go of my need to control the outcome of others' lives, I was able to have more healthy and fulfilling relationships with other people. 

I still have times when I go down that dark path and end up at the top of the teeter-totter, bouncing up and down and wasting my energies trying to look after someone who isn't budging and who might even use my people-pleasing nature against me.  At times like that I need to remind myself that I am responsible for my own actions, and that the other person is responsible for his or her actions. Then I can more easily let go, and let God do His stuff.  

That's a bit more "in balance". 

A"mazed"

When my youngest daughter was about 8 or 10 years old, we would eat out a lot at family restaurants which had children's menus and paper place-mats with activities for the children to do on the back. They'd give us a few crayons and the kids were occupied for the 20 minutes that it took for the food to arrive. It was great.

One of the activities on most of those place-mats was the maze.  Usually a circle, sometimes a square, it would have a mouse on the outside and a piece of cheese on the inside, or a bear looking for the honey pot, you get the idea.

This is the link for this puzzle.

Everyone I had ever seen try to navigate a maze puzzle started from the outside.  Except her.  She started from the inside where the 'prize' was - and worked her way out.  Usually she did it in far less time than we could have by doing it from the outside in.  I asked her once about why she did it from the inside out.  "It's easier that way," she said. "There aren't as many paths to choose on the inside, so I start with the easy part and work my way out to the outside. If I do that, the way looks easier for me to get back to the start."

There's a lesson in there.  Look after the inside first.

I've been thinking a lot lately about self-care.  The last couple of weeks, I've really been concentrating on looking after myself, on setting boundaries and taking responsibility for my part.  For someone who used to run from confrontation and other unpleasant things, this is never easy.  I cringe every time I do it.  It seems so daunting to just tell someone what I need if the possibility exists that I might be seen in a bad light.  I want so much for people to approve of me that I will take an unacceptable situation far too long and make false assumptions about the people involved.  This was what was happening to me the last little while.  I had myself convinced that someone was out to get me, when in fact the person was just trying to do a job and meet deadlines, that's it.  

But I had myself worked up into quite a state - four weeks ago I was walking around my workplace like a zombie, on the verge of tears the whole time. I was sleeping about three hours a night, feeling so very weary, dragging myself around, sometimes feeling so sick that I would call in - wanting to sleep but often not being able to catch a nap. The anxiety and depression were nearly overwhelming. 

That it took me as long as it did to reach out for help is something for which I take full responsibility.  I should have talked to someone sooner about how I was feeling.  Since that time, though, while following a program of self-care (looking after the inside first) I've been able to gain some perspective and a more balanced view of the situation I was in.  So this past Thursday, I made an appointment to see this person and talk. The individual listened, accepted what I said at face value, offered a few words of guidance, clarified a misconception I had, and supported me in whatever I needed to do in order to get back on my feet. 

It amazed me.  I'd been so afraid to approach this person and suddenly, within 30 minutes it was over - and the tension was nearly gone. Just like that.

And in that same time frame, other things happened over which this person would have absolutely no control... things that spoke to me and reminded me of the bigger picture, trust expressed by people I respected, fondness by someone I trust.  It almost felt to me like as soon as I took steps to look after myself and ask for what I wanted and needed, everything else seemed to fall into place - and not just at work.  Other areas started to click too - the depression began to lift about a week ago and the anxiety settled down... practicing my "breathe, unclench" exercise really helped too.  And then my confidence started to trickle back in ... culminating with the conversation Thursday.  

When I look back to the avoiding, frightened person I was as little as three and a half years ago, I am convinced that I would have been checking the job opportunities every day to get out of the situation without risking confrontation - anything but that! And it's STILL hard for me to do it - after a lifetime of running away, or being a chameleon and resenting having to change who I am to blend in - it's still a relatively new behavior for me.  That I turn instead and face my fears at all now, never ceases to surprise me - and I'm always just that surprised and amazed when I do.  (Like, who IS this person? can I get to know her?)  

My fear of people is getting less and less, gradually.  It IS taking less and less time to get to that place of looking after the inside first, working through the maze of relationships and boundaries, standing my ground, and asking for what I need.  Someday I'll learn to do it right away; someday I'll get to know that person inside and let her shine through first, instead of as a last resort.

That's when I'll really be a"mazed".

Making it all better

I've had a couple of little, innocuous reminders today of the kinds of thinking from which I've been delivered in the last three years.  In fact, one of the first hindrances to my healing process was my compulsion to "make it all better."  Someone would tell me a problem they were having, and I would rush in and try to fix it.  Or I'd give them advice and tell them how to get rid of the problem.  Or I'd somehow insinuate myself into their situation enough so that I could influence the outcome.

All that did was make the person either come to depend too much on me (which ended up by me resenting that person), or it made the individual resent me for meddling, or (which was worse) it would rob that person of learning something very important that God might want to teach him or her (patience, faith, etc.) by having to struggle through something on his or her own. 

Source (via Google Images):
http://fierceandnerdy.com/one-more-thing-before-we-go-mrs-fix-it

Trying to use my monkey-wrench on someone else's life wasn't good for them ... or for me.  It usually ended up backfiring and producing the opposite effect from the one I wanted!  So one of the first things I had to learn was that I am completely and utterly powerless over other people. By trying to manage their lives, I had made my own life unmanageable.  It was nuts!  

When I started letting other people tell me about their problems without trying to fix the problem at hand, but simply acknowledging their feelings about whatever was happening, some amazing things happened.  People started realizing that they could go through stuff, that it was okay to feel what they were feeling, and that I would be their friend without steamrolling them into my solution (which might not fit their lives).  They (and I) learned that they could handle their problems on their own, or hand them over to a Power much Higher and smarter than I am - and begin to trust themselves ... and Him ... for more and more.  With God's help and leading, I learned to respect those boundaries more and more as time went on.  And as I did, I discovered that my existing relationships were being transformed from power-based ones to peer-based ones.  In other words, I wasn't in charge and neither were they.  We were equals who cared and allowed each other the space and time to be who we were. Neither tried (or tries) to influence the other's behavior.  Acceptance reigns. 

I can't begin to tell you what a trip that has been.  The stress levels have gone way down, for one thing.  And the satisfaction levels have gone up - hopefully on both sides of my interpersonal relationships.  I've been able to determine what relationships I am in which are power-based, looked at those objectively and made decisions whether to continue in them or not.  Not an easy task, and one to which I never would have been equal three years ago.  But definitely worth it.  

In refusing to make it all better, I've actually found that things DO get better.  Who knew.  

Wilt thou?

"Wilt thou be healed?" (Jesus, in John 5:6) 

Billy Graham used to tell the funniest little story about the day he got married.  The wedding vows in those days were in Elizabethan English, so at the moment of truth, the minister would say, "Wilt thou take this woman to be thy wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, so long as ye both shall live?"

Billy was talking about that moment, when he quipped: "The preacher said, 'Wilt thou?' .... and I wilted."  

Jesus asked a very important question to a man who had been sick for a very long time, who saw miracles happen all around him on a regular basis, but who never had anyone who cared about him enough to make sure he got HIS miracle.  He said, "Wilt thou be healed?"  

In other words, "Do you want to get better?"

Source:
http://boysofdisney.tumblr.com/post/4292283521

Now, one would think the most natural response in the world would be the same as Emperor Kuzco's response when Pacha asks him if he's tired of being a llama. 

Yeah-hessss!

But this guy - the first thing out of his mouth is excuses.  

He doesn't even answer yes or no.  

But before judging him, let's think about this. Thirty-eight years he's lain by the side of this pool.  Every so often the water bubbles up - they said an angel stirred it, and whoever was the first one into the pool after that, would be healed.  And they were.  Every time.  So 38 years goes by and this guy is still by the side of the pool, begging for food in his spare time (and there'd be a LOT of spare time.) Lots of time to think about how alone he was, how nobody cared enough to roll him over there.  People came - ill - they left - better.  Not him.  People passed by there every day, saw him there.  Perhaps they asked him why he was still there after all this time.  Perhaps just their expression asked him that same question.  Could anyone imagine just how the victim mentality grew all over him like a fungus?  

So when Jesus asks him, "Do you want to be healed?" what do you suppose he hears in his heart?  "How come you're not healed? you must not want it badly enough."  

So his first words are, "Sir, I have nobody..."  Such a lonely existence being ill and being judged for it ... it's true!  Yet - the One asking this question wasn't judging.  He was asking if the man wanted to be healed.  And now that I listen a bit more closely  ...  I think I can hear his heart.  "Yeah-hessss!" 

Immediately Jesus tells him to pick up his pallet, the one on which he had been living for almost 40 years, and walk.  No fanfare, no stirring up the water and pushing people out of the way to get this guy in the pool first - no vindication in front of people who had passed him by and dismissed him.  Just pick up your mat and walk.  Don't worry about the muscles that are atrophied after years of disuse.  Just start using them - you've been given the ability by God to move around.  

At that point the man has a choice: to do as he is told, or to disbelieve and stay on his sleeping pad.  But no, he does - he gets up.  

And he can walk.  Unsteadily perhaps at first - but he does get up.  And - if you will use your imagination with me for a moment - from that day forward, his whole way of life progressively changes.  He has to strengthen his legs, learn balance, re-learn some table manners, perhaps.  He's also expected to work for a living instead of beg.  All those things which were withheld from him as an invalid, begin to unfold in his life.  Everything not only changes in a moment of time, but it continues to change as he walks through every day.

So with us (yes, even - and perhaps especially - Christians!) when we are bound for years and years by some unseen affliction that keeps us living in a victim-state.  We are powerless to help ourselves ... others seem to get healed and move on and leave us in the dust, wondering why, what's wrong with us.  And then the Master comes to us and asks us if we want to be healed.  

Do we?  do we really?  or are we used to the attention we're getting? are we fond of the pity and the emotional stroking we get because we have this great circumstance in our lives that colours every other aspect of our being?  Some of us feel that way, if we were to be brutally honest with ourselves.  I know I did - for many years.  But there comes a point when we must face that question, having come to the end of ourselves, when we are supremely tired of living life that way, and tell the Creator that we want to get better - and that there's nothing that we can do to GET better; we've tried everything on our own with abysmal results.  So we ask for Him to take over.  We tell Him - in response to His ever-present question - that we want to be healed.  

I did.  And when I did, He gave me the ability to get up and walk.  
But that was only the beginning of a whole new lifestyle - one that's ongoing.

The Wreck - a parable

Georgette and Bob went for a ride in her car one evening.  Georgette was behind the wheel.  She didn't tell Bob that she had night blindness and that she shouldn't be driving; she just figured it would be fine.  

It had been raining so the streets were wet, but it had stopped raining.  However, in the dark, with slippery roads and the lights of an oncoming car in her eyes, and only Bob's "Look OUT!" to warn her, Georgette lost control of the car and it crashed into a barricade, flipping the car and landing it in the ditch.  Georgette was pinned behind the wheel and couldn't get out of the car.  Bob was thrown clear. Neither was wearing a seat belt.

Both miraculously survived.  

Source: via Google Images:
http://www.deathbycar.info/2010/03/crash-deaths-2009/

In the dark, as people stopped to render assistance, Georgette screamed in pain - her leg was broken and the bone was protruding a little from it. She yelled for Bob to come to her aid.  Bob was lying quietly on his side several feet away, breathing slowly in, out, in, out.  Nothing appeared to be broken.  But he didn't get up.  

As the crowd gathered, the cries from Georgette grew more and more angry.  Why wasn't Bob coming over? couldn't he see she was in pain? The cries took on a pleading tone; Georgette was screaming and sobbing. The people around the accident site all crouched beside her and tried to comfort her, since she was the one who was obviously the worse off.  Someone called 911 and everyone waited for the police and ambulance to come ... and the paramedics to tend to her.  

One or two people went to see Bob.  He didn't look to be hurt, and he wasn't saying anything at all, so they turned their attention to Georgette.  She was moaning in pain, writhing... and the sirens came within earshot.  Neither she nor anyone could figure out why Bob wasn't helping.  He just stayed where he was, with a bleeding lip, breathing in, out. In, out.  They figured he was just an ingrate, that he was lazy, that he was angry at her - several theories came to the fore - and finally the paramedics came to the scene with their emergency kits.

A couple of the paramedics went to Georgette to check her out as the other two went to attend to Bob.  They had only been with him for a few moments when they called to their companions and said, "Get a backboard.  This one goes first."

"What?!!" screamed Georgette.  I'm hurt here!  Don't you people know anything?" Several in the crowd agreed.

But the paramedics knew differently.  Those close enough to hear them working with Bob, heard them radio the hospital.  "From what we can tell, this man has at least four fractured ribs, at least one of which has punctured a lung.  There's internal bleeding, possibly a ruptured spleen - we suspect a compression fracture of the upper lumbar spine.  We've started an I.V. and are getting him on a backboard.  Get the O.R. ready and have a surgeon waiting."  

There was a garble of words at the other end.  "Oh, the other one?  She's pinned in the car screaming her head off.  Just a broken leg."  More garbled words.  "Okay, we'll give her a shot.  Send another ambulance for her with the jaws of life, we're taking this one in.  Right now.  ETA, fifteen."