Isolation

Today marks day five since my husband tested positive for Covid. He tested positive in the evening, but that morning I kissed him good morning as couples tend to do. What he hadn't told me is that he already felt horrible the night before. (Sigh). 

Blame aside, I think we just got a little complacent. COVID-19 has been around 2.75 years. We had never gotten the bug, so maybe we thought vaccinations were enough, especially at home. 

But vaccines are not the only way to protect the ones we love. We'd forgotten that. And with restrictions lifting for some, people are not as protected as they were at the beginning of this long-term siege.

So, when I awoke this morning feeling completely drained, crappy, and sore all over, one of the first things I did was take a Rapid-test. (Grr, I hate those things...) and it came back negative. I was, quite frankly, disappointed from a very selfish perspective. I missed the company of my best friend and soul-mate. 

However, if there's the off chance that what I have is NOT COVID-19, but some other virus, it would not be good for the two of us to be together to give what we have to each other. 

Picture by Firmbee at Pixabay

 So, I'm writing this from our half-renovated den in the basement. Daughter and I brought the puppy's pen and crate downstairs, set up my computer, charging station for my phone, a few blankets, and supplies I'll need for looking after the puppy, for as long as I'm here. It is so very quiet down here - no TV, just the noise of the heat pump whenever it's on. Part of me wonders how my back will handle the sectional's cushions; time will tell I guess. It has to better than sleeping in my recliner in the living room!! I even brought down a kitty night-light for the night time. (Pitch black is not an option for me.)

If tomorrow finds me testing COVID-positive, then it's back upstairs for me and the pup, and sleeping in my own bed. But whatever the outcome, I will not run the risk of putting my beloved husband in danger. That's what all the vaccines and the masking and the hand-washing are all about.

It should be an adventure, at least.

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.

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.

Born to stand out

Chameleons can change color to blend into their surroundings. It's a protective mechanism. It keeps them from being targets, so they don't get devoured. 

I know I've called myself a chameleon before, in the past tense, you know: before and after recovery and all that. But lately there have been some changes happening in my life, some of which feel good, and others that don't. I'm being transformed even more. And mostly I like what I'm becoming, because mostly, that is happy.

Still, there is a part of me that tries to blend in, to fit in to what's expected. That tendency is so insidious ... wanting to be liked, validated, affirmed. It puts me in a position where I end up not being true to who I really am, sacrificing myself to the siren song of people-pleasing. Especially to pleasing people that won't - or are incapable of - approving of me or my accomplishments in any way. I've already written about that in previous posts, so I won't go there right now. Suffice to say that not everyone in my life is supportive of the decisions I've made. Yet I still try to win their approval. I still try to fit in. I still try to change who I am to be accepted, even now that I know who that person is.

That fact confronted me one evening recently. I was watching a movie, and the leading man turned the his girlfriend and said, "Why are you trying so hard to fit in, when you were born to stand out?"

It kind of took me off guard. But it also gave me pause.

The pull of wanting to fit in drips constantly like water wearing away a rock. One drip isn't that much, right? but one drip leads to the next, and the next, and before too long it just wears away and crumbles the rock; it kills the soul by millimeters, diminishes the very things that make the individual unique. 

I know these things, but still I find myself trying to conform, to disappear, to hide. Make all the right noises. Lie about how I feel. Put on that hypocritical mask - or any mask for that matter. Pretend to like certain activities because that's what I'm supposed to like in this situation or that one. 

I am afraid that if I were to stand out, I would stand a better chance of being abandoned. I hear it inside as if it's my own voice: "Show-off." "Brazen." I was always taught that it's wrong to call attention to yourself. That it's somehow sinful, or selfish (which I guess is the same thing.) 

But slowly, ever so slowly, I am learning not to 'hide my light under a bushel' ... and I'm encountering more and more people who are so glad when I take that bushel-basket off and let my light shine. 

And someday, I might even stand out.

The magnet

Everyone has one, I suspect. Everyone has a magnet hard-wired into them.

They might not have been born with it.  But it came - over time and at different ages in different people.  Some people had it implanted all at once; in others it was iron filing by iron filing over years and years.

What I'm talking about is that wounded place in each person - the place where there is great hurt, where the spirit has been badly injured. Perhaps it was a violent assault.  Perhaps it was systematic abuse.  Perhaps it came from years upon years of being criticized, made to feel stupid, or unwanted, or bad.  

Once there, this is the problem: the magnet attracts more of the same.  The very behavior that resulted in the spirit's being deeply hurt generates a desire in other people to injure that person in that exact same place.  It's uncanny. It's spiritual in nature - and I've seen it happen over and over again in myself and in people that I know, people that I love.  Even Christian pastors have remarked about this idea when talking about some counseling situations - an overwhelming desire to say something to the person that will injure him or her.  The ones who recognize it for what it is, immediately pray for that magnet to lose its power.  Of course they don't say those exact words... they might talk about an evil spirit - which is as accurate an explanation as anything else to describe the phenomenon.  

When someone smacks me in my own wounded place, my reaction is far more severe than it would be if they hit me in a place that was stronger.  And so it is with everyone - some call it a "sensitive area" or a "soft spot".  The end result is that people will jump on top of it like a hen on a June bug, like sharks in a feeding frenzy. Sometimes without even being aware of it.  It has happened so many times in my life that I have lost count.

My natural reaction to something like that is to avoid situations that will place me in danger of that happening.  (Which is why I avoid certain social situations like the plague.  But I digress.) 

What is harder, but better in the long run, is dealing with the hurt and rendering it powerless.  

HERE is where I found this photo of
acousto-magnetic strips used in many stores' anti-shoplifting systems

Like what happens at the store when you're buying some articles of clothing... they have a magnetized strip somewhere in the garment that will activate the security warning in the store if not "demagnetized" by the checkout clerk. But run a demagnetizing device right over that spot, and it changes the properties of the strip so that it doesn't react when the magnetic beam in the automatic doors hits it. If a clerk forgets, it's usually a simple matter to go back and get it done. Usually.

Sometimes, though, one of these strips doesn't get demagnetized at the checkout ... because it's buried so deep and doesn't respond to the demagnetizing device - and then it sets off Every. Single. Alarm. 

That happened with a winter coat I had once. It was poly-fiber-filled (the technical term, I believe, is "poofy") and the store at which I bought the coat didn't succeed in demagnetizing the strip; it was buried too deeply.  So ... the magnet was still active in it.  Every time I walked into a store (any store with a similar security system) wearing that coat, I couldn't get out of the store without setting off the alarm.  Try as I might, I couldn't find the strip; it was lost in the poly-fibers.  It frustrated not only me, but store security personnel too. They knew me, they knew my situation and that I was not a shoplifter - and they had even tried to demagnetize the coat for me, a couple of times.  Nothing worked.  Finally ... I stopped wearing the coat!!  A couple of years later, when I was taking it out of the closet to make room for something else, I grabbed it in an odd spot - and felt the short, thin strip through the material - it had slipped down into a spot that was unusual. Nobody would have thought to find it there.  

The process of demagnetizing those hurt places inside ... takes time.  It's not like Someone waves a big demagnetizing wand over the spot and it's all better.  Layers upon layers of "poof" builds up over it - in an effort to protect that soft spot - and makes it inaccessible.  The key is finding that spot and bringing it into the open. It might take a while. It might even take opening up the facade and ripping out the protective layers. 

It does not happen without pain, sometimes a lot of pain.  But once a move is made to put God at the helm of the process, it WILL eventually happen as long as He stays at the controls. Healing WILL happen, from the inside out.  And the alarms will eventually stop going off.  Life will become normal.  Happiness will not be so rare anymore.  

I know because it's happened in some areas of my life and it continues to happen in others.  Like I said, it's a process.  And in spite of the sometimes messy beginning, in the vast majority of cases, it is worth the mess, even before the journey is halfway through.

Change by millimeters

Today I had another reminder of how gradual and almost imperceptible growth is. 

I'd been fretting about an upcoming event for weeks, because I knew it would place me in a situation which - all my life - I would avoid like the plague because it MIGHT be construed by someone (anyone, it doesn't matter who!) as confrontational.  And I hate confrontation.  There was a lot of preparation that went into it, and I got some really cool strategies for coping with the stress of the situation from someone who was way more seasoned a presenter than I am.

Well, today was the day.  And the event happened.  And not only did I not sit there like a bump on a log afraid to say anything, I spoke up.  And I held my own. And I wasn't afraid. Yes, I stumbled over some of my words, but you know what? the world didn't cave in on me when I struggled to express myself.  

And - truth be told - the whole thing went pretty well.  

Surprise!  (Well, nobody there was more surprised than I was at how much I said and how calm I was!)  I thought afterward (about myself and my performance today), "Who was that person? and how can I get to know her?" 

But I reminded myself that I entered this new realm, took this new endeavor upon myself in order to "stretch" me. Indeed, I discovered how much I had already been "stretched" by growing in my own recovery and getting comfortable inside my own skin the last few years - without even knowing it!!  

It's been in increments - in millimeters - and at times it's felt so slow, almost glacial.  But it's been happening nonetheless.  And it's days like today that show me just how far I've come in what (in hindsight) has been such a short time compared to the "before" picture of uncertainty, insecurity, fear, and anxiety - which took decades to create.  The change boggles my mind.

Calm.  Confidence.  Compassion.  Courage.  

The inner climate is warming. The glacier is moving.

Carried along

The landscape was peculiar; rocks and trees jumbled together in a nearly impossible to navigate path before her.  She'd been told that the creatures in the wood could take her to where she wanted to go - but it meant letting go of her need to be in control.  All around her, inside her head, she could hear the voices of those who had urged her to go and stand in this place.  

She pondered her decision.  She could go back.  She could choose the safety of what she'd always known.  Or she could decide to call upon those foreign creatures she'd only heard about, who, surefooted as they were clever, would take her safely there - if she held on tight.  She wondered how they would know how to find her. 

Finally she thought, "Yes.  This is where I would like to go.  I need to find one of those crea-"

Immediately, she felt a gigantic, broad beak darting between her legs from behind, and scooping her up.  She slid on her buttocks, terrified, down the long, narrow, stubbled neck and onto the broad, feathered shoulders.  From atop her perch, the dangerous rocks below looked so far away and she was gripped with a sense of panic.  This was too soon.  This was too high.  She didn't know the way.  And what (God forbid) if she fell off? She slid back a bit, and tucked her legs under its warm wings.

Instinctively she gripped the bird-creature's torso with her legs.  It squawked and began to move, deftly navigating with its sturdy, long legs the sharp rocks that would most certainly kill her if she fell on them from this height. The speed was so much faster than she imagined.  She gulped, and grabbed the base of the wings with her hands to help her balance.

No turning back now.  She leaned forward to compensate for the bird's rapid acceleration, blinking rapidly to release the tears that the wind brought to her eyes.

It was two weeks ago. 

"Yeah, you'll make a good one, that's a great idea!  Why don't you go for it?" this one person urged me. 

I was still unsure, wondering about this scenario or that one.  "You could always ask the 'what if' questions.  You'll never know unless you try." No matter how I tried to escape it, that logic kept coming back.  Finally I decided to at least ask my questions.  They were all answered - patiently. My co-worker didn't push me and respected my right to make a decision on my own. 

Thus began my reluctant induction into the halls of representing my colleagues before management - also known as being a union rep or in the organization's jargon, a steward.  I had no idea what I was getting into.  But I had asked my questions and objection after objection had disappeared.  I was faced with one question - whether I thought I could make a difference to my peers in improving their work atmosphere.  

When I finally decided to 'go for it' - I was surprised at how quickly the wheels started turning after that. I was invited to meeting after meeting - all in the space of a few weeks.  It was all a little - well, not quite overwhelming, but almost.  My short description, above, describes many of the sensations I felt.  

This is way outside my comfort zone.  I am not by nature a confrontational person; I know some who thrive on it ... but I am not one of them.  Having to "raise concerns" before people who have the right to have me dismissed, is all a bit much for me.  However, I am confident that what my guides tell me is true, and that we will eventually arrive at our destination.  

I know that this experience will stretch me.  Of course, "stretching" hurts.  I'd briefly (and conveniently) forgotten that.  Yet I have the assurance that this process will give me a unique perspective, help me see the big picture and be involved in some frank discussions with senior executives without fear of reprisal. 

I must admit, that assurance of equality does intrigue me.  I wonder if I'll be able to overcome my fears and act appropriately on behalf of those I represent.  I guess I do need to remember that I'm not in this alone.  I have the support of those stewards who have gone through this before, and I also have the support of my peers.

I know that this is but one more step in becoming all that God has been leading me into the last few years, and that He will continue to be faithful, to be with me, to continue to lead me one step at a time, one day at a time.

I just wonder when - or if - or even where - this particular ride will end.  But I'm willing to give it a go. 

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".

Back to the basics

In the last few months I've been noticing some increasingly alarming things happening in my thought life, in my attitudes and in my physical health.

However, I didn't notice the thought life or the attitudes until my physical symptoms started to show up in a big way.  Incredible fatigue, crushing depression, a dread of being with people, especially people at work or church, headaches, joint aches, knots in my stomach when I thought of certain places or people, even my hair and nails drying out.  

It started about six months ago or so, after I was unjustly treated by someone at work. It was a difficult experience.  I felt attacked; I felt bullied. And I eventually confronted the person and we talked it through - and I thought it was resolved.  

About two months ago, though, there were some changes at work that put one more step into the process of what I do.  That step involved the involvement of this same individual. It wasn't long before the same thing started happening that happened last time, only more intensely. It was then that I realized that I hadn't been imagining the personal nature of the attack from the last time; it was real.  And with that realization, it dawned on me that it would keep on happening, over and over with no end in sight. Now, I'm not naïve enough to believe that everyone will like me all the time. However, I do have the right to expect to be treated like a professional.  This is not how I am being treated by this person. Whether real or perceived, this not-being-in-a-safe-place ... can be a cause of a mental illness known as "Adjustment Disorder."

So more and more I started to dread going to work. My confidence in my own abilities was suffering. I felt like I had to compromise my own values to conform to what this person wanted from me.  This I was not prepared to do - yet that old me was still there, wanting to be approved of, needing to not make anybody mad.  

Sick days, even planned holidays became refuges from the mounting stress. On weekends and days off, I'd nap at least two hours during that day, too tired to think or move.  Everything was an effort. My productivity went down at work and at home.  Way down.  I couldn't concentrate on what I was doing.  My memory started to lapse; I'd forget why I was on my way to a particular spot and have to go back to my seat to try to recall what I was thinking before I stood up. And I was so tired all the time.  At work I would catch myself staring into space, in that zoned-out pre-sleep state just before nodding off. It scared me.

One day last week, while researching hypothyroidism (symptoms, causes, treatment) for my work, I read about the most common symptoms and discovered with a start that I had most of them.  So I booked a trip to the doctor, and had my blood tested.  The results came back "normal" today.  Warned by a co-worker that this might not tell the whole story, I decided to pursue this avenue until I was sure I could rule out the possibility of a lower-threshold version of the same thing.  At the same time, I booked an appointment to talk to my counselor and see if there might be something else that is the matter.  

This evening, while visiting a good friend, I was reminded to not give up and also to remember to look after myself first, even if I have to hound my doctor to stay on the case, and even if it means another blood test (yuck) to check for a higher percentage of white blood cells (which would indicate the possibility of leukocytic thyroiditis - which happens when the white blood cells attack the thyroid gland and cause it to slow down the production of thyroxin, a hormone that regulates growth and metabolism).  

Just the basics of self-care - it felt like such a long time since I had done what I needed to do to look after me.  What a tremendous gift.

And this is where I sit now, even as I have dozed off for the fifth time tonight, in gratitude for the reminder that yes, I am worth looking after and that it had better be sooner than later.  A call to my doctor to discuss the test results might prove fruitful especially if he agrees to send me a copy of them.  Whether it turns out to be hypothyroidism or not, I have a difficult conversation I need to prepare myself for - with much prayer - so that I can further reduce my stress and be able to get the rest and peace that I need.  

And I will keep reminding myself of a few important but very basic things which are all too easy to forget when fighting an uphill battle: 
This too shall pass.  
Let Go and Let God.  
And First Things First.

Different and same

I just saw a video this morning that I must share.  It's about five and a half minutes long and it is about a young man named Ryan Pittman.

His story is so powerful that it stands alone.  A lot of people have tried to get across what everybody needs to know.  Ryan succeeded.  He has given hope and inspiration to so many people.



I know he inspired me.

Bumpity-bump

I have a vivid memory from when I was six years old.  It's a happy memory.  

My grandfather lived down a long mud lane.  He drove a twelve-year-old Chevy truck built in the early 1950s with those bouncy-jouncy shocks that allowed passage over a dirt road but were pretty hard on the occupants.  He smelled like pipe tobacco and all the outdoors.  I loved him with everything I knew how to love with.  He never spoke a harsh word to me.  He was a short man - spry - and generous.  

This memory I have is brief.  It was of a day when my mother and I had been visiting him and Grammie at their house for the morning. I'd spent the morning exploring the property, going down to the edge of the lake, heading back up to the barn, visiting with the cows, hearing the grunts from the pigsty, trying to spy the kittens in the loft. And of course, sitting in Grammie's kitchen listening to her talk about the memories she had of my dad growing up, of adventures he had.  

Grampa offered to drive us back home after lunch, well over a mile if we were to walk, and the footing would have been difficult on that lane.  

We accepted.  

And here starts that memory so vivid I can almost smell the dust off the dashboard, mixed with the other smells I'll describe here. It's one of my earliest memories, so it's full of images, feelings.  Very potent.

Source (via Google Images):
http://www.classic-car-history.com/1947-1955-chevy-truck.htm

He got behind the wheel, and I sat in the middle between him and my mother.  

I loved riding in his truck.  It was so much fun!  Up and down, over the ruts and rills we would go, dangerously close to the edge on both sides of the lane. The ditch went down about fifteen feet on a sharp grade on both sides, so it was important to stay away from the edge.  Yet strangely, I was never afraid of him straying too close to the edge.  I only knew I was with Grampa, and he was driving us home, and that's where we'd end up. I felt safe when I was with him. It wasn't something I was consciously aware of, it just WAS.

Bounce, bounce, bounce...  He navigated the quarter-mile-long lane with calmness and aplomb, confidence and quietness.  I was enjoying the ride, being jounced around almost like a rag doll as we headed toward the main road.  And then I said what I always said, "Here we go again, bumpity-bump in Grampa's truck!"  And he laughed - but not in a shaming way.  His laughter said, "I'm enjoying my granddaughter SO much!"  He knew how to make me feel so important.  He knew neat things like that.  He knew lots of things my other relatives didn't seem to care about.  Like how to feed cows and pigs. That was cool.   


I don't remember getting back home, I just remember that little snippet of bouncing and enjoying the ride over that mud lane with all its ruts and rocks.

A little over a year later, Grampa would die in hospital of internal injuries, after his tractor wheel slipped off the edge of that narrow lane and rolled over and over on its way to the bottom of the ditch.  It truly was a dangerous passageway.  At seven years old, dragged to the scene in a panic by my mother after she received a phone call, I struggled to understand how come the ambulance was there, what had happened to Grampa, why they wouldn't let us near, how come he wasn't climbing up the side of the ditch by himself.  It all seemed so surreal, and totally disconnected from that care-free memory from over a year previous.  

I found myself just recently thinking about that ride with Grampa in his truck, how safe and protected I felt - and pondering in my adult mind how that at any moment we could all have plummeted to injury or death down into that same ditch.  

I guess it's because I'm covering some pretty rough territory lately and it feels rather scary.  And I suppose that it's God's way of telling me, "Trust Me.  I've got the wheel and I know the way.  It's going to be bumpy, too. But that's okay, I'm here.  And I'll NEVER leave you.  I will get you safely home."

Forgiving me

Last October (2011), in a post called Forgiveness Frees, in which I talked about forgiving others, I said I might talk some time about forgiving the self.  

When I was going through my initial journey of self-discovery, in the portion where I was writing down the names of all those people that had hurt me - and what they did to hurt me - I thought I'd exhausted the list when that little Voice inside said, "You forgot someone."  Asking whom He meant, the response came - ever so quietly and gently, " ....... you."  

Yes.  Yes I had done so much to hurt myself - ignoring myself, hating myself, talking trash about (and to) myself, and much more.  It was hard to write it all down and see it all on paper.  Yet it was one of the most useful exercises I had ever done to come to a knowledge of myself.  And yes, I had to come to a place of forgiveness for the person who had done all these things: me.  

Weird, huh.  

It was a process which began with realizing that damage had been done - and that it was wrong!  To allow myself to get angry at that - legitimately.  To look at all the areas that those wrong things had affected.  There were a LOT.  And then to realize that I couldn't make up for the past ... and regret and remorse could only go so far.  So at that point, I could let myself off the hook.  That - my friends - is forgiveness.  Forgiveness doesn't make what was wrong, "okay."  It isn't carte blanche for the abuse to keep on happening, either.  But it is a process that begins with a decision to become willing to forgive, and ends (after a whole pile of stuff in between) with another decision to not punish the person for whatever that wrong thing was.  (For more information see the post I referred to, above - I put a link to it.) 


Anyway, I did eventually get to that point of being able to decide not to punish myself for hurting me.

From Ten Quick Ways to Get Happy,
http://lifestyle.aol.co.uk/2011/11/15/watching-
too-much-tv-makes-older-women-depressed/

And ... to make restitution to myself (wow that still sounds weird) ... I started to treat myself differently.  I'd stop myself from putting me down (either in the mirror or in public - well, the mirror part still needs a bit more work).  I'd make a little bit of time to do something I wanted to do, rather than putting everyone else's needs ahead of mine ALL of the time.  

Slowly I found little ways to say to myself, "I'm worth being nice to."  One of the things I started doing was smiling at myself in the mirror when I saw me "in there" in the morning.  Even if only briefly! (Guess what ... people look better when they smile! even if they have no teeth!)  Something that simple - and it felt so awkward at first - helped lay the groundwork for getting to know myself ... and starting to like myself.  To encourage myself.  To take care of myself. To accept myself.

It's a funny thing about forgiving yourself, hard as that is sometimes.  It's not optional, because it's a gateway to having healthy relationships with other people.  Lots of folks try to have healthy relationships with others but if they can't stand themselves, the relationships they have will be superficial at best, and totally dysfunctional at the worst.  I can say this because this is how I lived my life for decades.  (And then I wondered why emotionally healthy people didn't want to have anything to do with me... Du-uh!)  It's like I had this built-in 'abuse magnet.'  With rare exceptions, I ended up attracting people as friends who wanted to either control me or fix me.  This wasn't good for me - or for them.  

When I learned to forgive - not only others but myself - the magnet slowly reversed its polarity.  Instead of attracting abusers, or being attracted TO fixers, I started being repelled by them - and if they got close, it didn't take long for me to repel them (okay, sometimes I had to tell them to go away, because they didn't get it the first, or twentieth, time.)  And I started being attracted to - and attracting - those who are accepting, confident without being cocky, honest with themselves and others, and sincere.  

I can barely believe it - if you'd have asked me four years ago if this was possible, I would have said no.  But it's true.  Forgiveness really DOES free.

In Quietness and Confidence

Whenever my mind is in turmoil and my thoughts in a vortex, when I'm either (as one friend put it) futurizing or pasteurizing instead of living in and appreciating the Now, I find it helpful to go to a quiet place, even if only in my mind.

I have a variety of vehicles to get there.  One is music, another is art, another is the beauty of Nature; still another is just ... quietness.

Even as a quiet person by nature, I had to train myself to be quiet in the way that I needed to be in order to thrive spiritually.  The pressures and demands of the day were just too much for me to handle and often I would attend to the urgent while neglecting the most important things: developing relationship with God, looking after my spiritual condition, spending time with people of like mind and faith, and reaching out to those with whom God led me to share.

As a result I got stressed, harried, and close to burnout, which is where I stayed for weeks, months at a time.  I felt that if I just pushed myself a little more, had more coffee, stayed up a little later, that things would improve. But I ended up having less time for the things that were important than if I'd just taken the time to put those things first.

First things first, as the saying goes.  The tendency is always there for me to rush around inside my head, thinking of a million different things that would be nice, but which are not essential to my spiritual growth or to the path of healing He has laid out for me.  I need to let go of my need to control things, to finagle my way into getting what I want, and let God do what He wants in my life.  Usually that involves me being honest ... first with Him and with myself, then with others.  When I do, much of the turmoil is replaced with peace.

Once in a while, God reminds me that all the things I think are so important are really only urgent.  The urgency of these things will pass if I just let go.  Just relinquish my hold on them.  Many of them simply fade away into nothingness. 

When I discipline myself to get alone with Him and turn my wants and the rule of my life over to Him on a continual basis, He works things out, often in the most amazing ways and in spite of (sometimes even because of) my own failings.  Through it all, He faithfully keeps reminding me that my strength is in Him, that the power to live my life is found in quietness and in confidence, and that as long as I have my attention focused on Him and let Him do His work unhindered, knowing He has my best interests at heart, I have nothing to fear.  And peace just comes.