Hello, 4 a.m.

Yes, it's another of those mornings. I went to bed last night with one thought pertaining to sleep on my mind: Gotta get some, catch up that lost hour, maybe even more. 

Wrong. 

This year, daylight saving time has really taken its toll on the little hamster that lives inside my head. Part of it could be that my body is run-down from fighting sickness all winter. It could be stress (I've got lots of stressful situations to pick from). I believe, though, that it's a combination of these in addition to the "what if" component. 

A friend of mine calls it awfulizing. That's pretty much what happens, too. I think that it's a vestige of my old lifestyle - where my mind imagines all kinds of things that could happen in any given situation, then plays out that scenario to the final conclusion - usually based on my fears of what might happen and my core beliefs about what I deserve. 

The thing about that whole process is that it is focused on a period of time I have no control over: what happens next. 

The future has always been a specter for me - the unknown - replete with black robes, scythe and that maniacal grim-reaper's grin. I've spent most of my life trying to control whatever outcomes pertain to me and to my loved ones. It is an illusion of course, and it wastes a whole bunch of energy. 

Still, the clock mocks me with each blink of the colon between the hour and the minute - 4:00. In the morning. Toss, turn, think, pray. By 5:00 I suspect I won't be getting back to sleep; by 5:30 I'm sure of it.

So I get out of bed, slip on my bathrobe and pad out into the kitchen. I set the timer on the microwave to go off in about 90 minutes - and I head to the computer to write. 

Writing clears my head, helps me to make sense of what is going on inside of me. 

"Sunrise at First Sight" courtesy of Keattikorn at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

My thoughts dwell on upcoming events, schedules and plans for those. It surprises me how much I have on my schedule.

Another thing that looms large is my family - specifically my kids. With one expecting surgery in the next few weeks, and another making tentative plans to strike out on her own, I find myself wondering what will happen, being concerned about possibilities that I can't influence: outcomes that - as much as I want to - have nothing to do with how much I fret about them. 

I pray. I tell Him all about it, leave it in His hands. 

I choose to let go. Again.

Day dawns inside of me, sunlight evaporates the mists of worry. 

This is a matter of trust, not of trying. 

I relax. I come back from the foggy realm of 'what if' - return to this specific twenty-four hour period - and leave the phantom of 'tomorrow' alone. 

'Today' looks a bit brighter as a result.

Owning up

I was talking to a dear friend this evening who, nearly six months ago, was badly hurt by someone he trusted lying to him, concealing the truth from him about something.  The person never apologized when it happened, and for the last five months has been justifying his behavior, saying he didn't do anything wrong.  

Suddenly, a few days ago, he decided to apologize.  But his apology was way more about explaining why he did what he did, than in taking any responsibility for hurting my friend.  He said, in essence, the same old thing: that he didn't feel like he'd done anything wrong - and he implied that my friend was too sensitive and over-reacting.  

That's not an apology.  That's just more of the same self-justification that has been going on for months.  

An apology goes like this:  "What I did hurt you.  I am sorry.  I was wrong."  

Period. 

Source of this photo

Whether the hurt was intentional or not is immaterial.  The phrase, "I didn't mean to hurt you" is the wrong thing to say when apologizing; it just is, no matter what a person is used to.  

Think of it this way - an example "off the top of my head."  Imagine (for the sake of the exercise) that I ask you to put your hand on a table, with your fingers spread.  You do so.  Then I start taking the butt end of a cutlery knife and hitting the table with it, aiming for the space between your fingers, first between the first and second, then the second and third, and so forth, and then back again. Faster and faster, back and forth.  In doing that, I miss and I hit the top of your finger with the heavy steel butt of the knife.  It hurts.  You draw your hand back and say ouch.  

Now - when I immediately say that I didn't mean to hurt you, does that make you feel better?

No.  You've still been hurt. And I'm the one who did it! Whether I meant to do it or not is not important. The fact that I did it IS.  The appropriate thing for me to say is "Oh - I'm terribly sorry! I shouldn't have even tried that!"  No justification, no excuse, no rationalization.  Just "I was wrong.  I'm sorry!" 

Now let's say I don't apologize and wait until two weeks later to do it, and then when I do, I tell you why I was doing such a dangerous stunt in the first place instead of just telling you that I'm sorry that I hurt you. Does that apology hold water? 

No way!!

Taking responsibility takes guts.  It really requires courage to own up and not try to protect ourselves when admitting that we wronged someone.  Justifying ourselves gives the message that the other person's pain doesn't matter, that we're more concerned about ourselves than we are about the other person. Besides, you can't do very much good if you're covering your butt all the time.  

Did my friend take the "apology" he received seriously?  
Of course not.  He's not stupid.

Someday I hope that this person "gets it" and is truly repentant for the hurt he caused - and that he owns up and says that he's sorry.  But by then, I just wonder if it might be too little, too late. 

Start SOMEwhere

For the last year or so I have been toying around with the idea of reducing the clutter in my life, but have been putting it off because the task seemed (seems) so daunting.  

I'm a packrat.  There.  I've said it.  

I'm the sentimental kind of packrat.  Letters, cards people wrote to me, notebooks I wrote in years ago, articles of clothing I liked when I was um, a few sizes smaller and then couldn't bear to part with after I "grew out of" them, even some of my kids' baby clothes - outfits I remember them wearing ... these accumulate over time.  The result was that the stuff I could use in the now, I couldn't find because it was buried in other stuff I couldn't use.  

I'm also a bit of a slob.  That's no secret to those who know me well.  But combine packrat with slob and you get a borderline hoarder!  And one of the side-effects of that ... is how unhealthy it is - the dust accumulates, and we're all allergic to dust here - and the frustration level at not being able to find something when we want it mounts to colossal proportions.  For everyone.  After a while it all gets to be just too much. 

If the last 3 years has taught me anything, it's that baggage from the past can weigh you down in the present.  The baggage can't be thrown out in one fell swoop.  That would be kind of like throwing out the baby with the bathwater! No, it has to be unpacked, processed, and put where it belongs.  Whether that's in the "keep" pile or in the "trash" pile, the concept is the same in the emotional or spiritual as in the physical realm. It's a LOT of work, and the process can be overwhelming.  

Anyway, this morning, to start off a few days of vacation, I decided to join my husband in a little project he's doing - preparing our bedroom to be re-floored.  (That would involve FINDING the floor...) So the de-cluttering project I've been putting off for "another time" got moved forward.  The whole house needs it - but any time I thought about doing the whole house, I was so discouraged that I didn't do anything at all.  Yet this morning, a new thought came to me.

"Start SOMEwhere."  And the bedroom was just as good a spot as any.  

Here's a before and after photo I got HERE

In the short space of 90 minutes or so, working alongside my husband (who was doing the larger projects involving brute strength), I was able to sort through eight years' worth of papers on a desk we were getting rid of (and which had to be demolished to get it out of the room, hence the presence of "my hero"), and turn my attention to the clothing monster. It was amazing how quickly I was able to see more and more of the floor AND the tops of the dressers. I had thought it would take all day!  It was also pretty impressive to see just how much dust had accumulated on some of the areas we'd not been able to reach because of the desk.  Downright scary in some spots. It reminded me of the little joke I heard where the kid asks the mom if it was true that God made Adam out of the dust of the earth, (yes He did, dear) and that when we die our bodies return to the dust (yes, that's true dear) ... so the kid says, "Well you better come quick Mom, 'cause there's someone either coming or going under the bed!"  ;)  


Doing the de-cluttering project WITH someone really helped me too.  One of the things I have always hated about cleaning is that it's lonely work.  Having someone to share it with makes it not seem like such a drudgery.  And there's the satisfaction of the work going faster, and the back-and-forth banter of shared experience and pooled ideas.  

It was almost fun.  

Mind you, it's a long way from being done.  And there will be a lot more dust before it's over.  But before too long, the room will be a refuge, and not a repository of junk - and it won't take THAT much work to keep it that way.  

It's kind of a metaphor for how my emotional life is being transformed over the last few years.

That's the thing about works in progress.  They're never completely done, and they're a lot of work - but you can tell when you're making progress.

Slippage

Today I tackled a job I've been putting off for a while.  I used to do it every month, but in the last few months ... not so much. I needed to balance my checkbook.

I can hear the collective groans.  The thing is, I used to be really good at recording every expense.  Treated every debit card transaction like a check, recorded it right away.  Then my habits changed and I started saving receipts when making a debit card purchase, (this to avoid perfect strangers behind me in line from being upset at having to wait while I write down the amount! wow.  Reality check: how codependent is that??) intending to record them later.  Most times I do.  Sometimes - and this is usually the case especially with those pesky  automatic payments - I forget.  This results in what some call "slippage."  A missed transaction or two doesn't seem like much.  But it can be dangerous!

To my surprise, when I finally dug my check register out today, I discovered I had not reconciled it to my bank account in about six months.  Ouch!!  This wasn't going to be good.  

Source of this image:
http://www.istockphoto.com/stock-photo-
775368-checkbook-register.php

After carefully verifying every transaction the bank said I put through, I ended up having a few hundred dollars less in my bank account than I thought. (Talk about slippage!!)  Not a nice feeling to be sure.  A little unsettling (pun not intended) as a matter of fact.  But, I bit the bullet ... made the change in my check register, and now everything balances, although the balance is less than I would have wanted.  Before I sat down with my wallet today, I thought I was doing pretty well.  That's the trouble with slippage.  It adds up.

It's sort of a relief to know where I stand, though.  To know that I'm square - that I won't be caught short of funds when I have to make a payment in future.  But lessons learned:  the arrival of the bank statement is the perfect signal for me to make time to make sure I've been scrupulously honest with myself.  And speaking of honesty - this putting the recording off until that evening or the next day ... has not been working for me: with all my other daily duties, I easily forget about the paperwork, and before I know it, I have a whole whack of receipts falling out of my wallet.  So - perhaps it's time to get a little more meticulous about my record-keeping - to take the time to do it at the checkout as I used to do.  It's another way of looking after myself, of reminding myself that I have the right to take up space in the world.  Even if I have to slip around to the far end of the checkout after paying, for the twenty extra seconds it would take to record my purchase.

It's just that easy to fall behind, to not be as diligent as I once was - not only in my paperwork, but also in my inner life.  I once heard someone say, "Keep short accounts with God."  I'd say that applies to all relationships including the vertical one.  I talk about it ... but when all is said and done, I do tend to let things slip.  I "coast."  I don't live intentionally - and that results in spiritual slippage.  Fortunately, I don't have to wonder if my Record-keeper made a mistake.  If there's a discrepancy, I know I'm the one who goofed.  And although it's humbling, it's better for me to reconcile with God ... and with anyone else for whom I have not been "present" ... so that my life is balanced.

Balanced is good.

I'm sorry - not!

:D
D:

Okay sometimes you just GOTTA laugh.

I just got the weirdest apology from someone. Suffice to say that it left me with the impression that the person didn't really believe they did anything wrong.  But they said they were sorry that I thought they had.  Oh, that's rich. (:->)  Anyway, I'm just glad that the person got the message...and respected a boundary I set.


But it got me to thinking about all the non-apology apologies I've heard.

Let's see.


According to Wikipedia,"An example of a non-apology apology would be to say "I'm sorry that you felt insulted" to someone who has been offended by a statement. This apology does not admit that there was anything wrong with the remarks made, and, additionally, it insinuates that the person taking offense was excessively thin-skinned or irrational in taking offense at the remarks in the first place."


Okay so how many non-apology apologies have you heard (or given)?  I can list a few to get you started:


The 'obfuscated' apology:  "I know that you believe you understand what you think I said, but I'm not sure you realize that what you heard is not what I meant."


The backhanded apology: "I'm sorry your feelings got hurt." (i.e., what I said/did wasn't wrong; you are too sensitive.  This is like the one wikipedia cited.)

The "you-should-have-known-better" apology:  "What in the world were you thinking?  of course I didn't mean to hurt anyone!"  (This one doesn't even say the words, "I'm sorry.")

The "please make excuses for me" apology:  "Oh I'm sorry.  I was in such a bad mood."  (And yes, I used to use this one a LOT.)


The "guilt trip" apology:  (I got this a lot growing up).  "I am so sorry.  I must be such a rotten [mother/friend/sister/brother _____(fill in the blank)___.] I try and try to be a good ____(again, fill in the blank)____ but I guess nobody appreciates that...."  Another version of this one is, "But I was only trying to HELP..."


Or the no-words apology (I'm still sometimes guilty of this one) - buying the person something or doing something really nice for them to make it up to them... but never saying the words because... it's uncomfortable.


Okay, now that I've gotten the creative juices flowing - what IS a real apology?


I believe that it is when you recognize that the actions or words you have done have hurt another, whether you meant them to or not.  It carries with it the idea that you don't want to hurt them again, and that you will take concrete steps to avoid that happening in the future because you care about them.

So, here's an example of a real apology (if it comes from the heart):  "I am so very sorry for what I said.  I didn't know that it hurt you.  How can I keep from doing that again?"

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 . . .