Getting by Letting

The other day the leash attached to our puppy Bullet's harness got wound around a table leg. In trying to free him, I let go of the handle of his leash and concentrated on untangling the knot at its source. Bullet grabbed the leash handle and hung on. Of course, this way, he was stuck and couldn't be released from his predicament. 

It was like he was in one of those tubular finger puzzle traps where the harder you pull against it, the tighter the tube grabs your finger. "If only you'd let go, you'd be instantly free!" I thought. But he was fixated on 'helping' to free himself. 

Image courtesy of pasja1000 at Pixabay.com

The lesson was not lost on me. Sometimes I get into predicaments and I figure I have to free myself (since I was the one who got into the mess in the first place). 

But all I really needed to do was let go.  Let it go, as in quit obsessing, stop trying to make it better, stop trying to explain the reasons why, release the grudge, forgive, accept things, places, and people the way they are, and I'll be free. 

Not free of the leash. Not free of the relationships and linkages in my life. But free of being bound by my own efforts to free myself, to MAKE things happen. 

Free to enJOY the relationships. Free to make mistakes. Free to admit I was wrong. Free to love more unconditionally. Free to let go of the past. Free to embrace the present. Free to look forward to the future without dread. 

Let go of the handle I think I have on things. Give the handling of the handle to the Handler. Quit striving (not in the sense of trying, but in the sense of hanging on to strife). Trust that things can work themselves out WITHOUT my input. That I can be helpless without being hopeless. That I can love without trying to change the opinions or the behaviors of others. That I can respect others' right to be who they are, and expect them to respect my right to be who I am.

Can I do that?

Yes. Yes I can. 

Do Not Cross

One of the things I have been learning since 2009, when I embraced a lifestyle of acceptance and freedom from the need to control people by either intimidation, manipulation, or care-giving, is the concept of boundaries.

I didn't know that boundaries even existed in people's lives until I was well into my forties. Nobody respected mine growing up, and so I didn't know I had any to respect. But being in therapy in 2009 taught me many things, and one of them was that everyone has boundaries, and that there are just some boundaries you don't cross - even if you feel you have the right to do so because you're someone's parent, or spouse, or best friend.

You just don't.

I guess I've become so super-sensitive to it in my own behavior that I see it really clearly when someone else does it. My daughter gave me a perfect example of what I mean by crossing boundaries, as we were chatting this morning about this very thing. She said that until I learned about boundaries (mine and others'), I would see her reading a book in her room, walk into her room, grab the book and read a paragraph or two (to determine content) and then decide whether she would be allowed to continue reading it. I called it protecting her heart and mind from the evil messages in the book. She felt as though I was treating her like property. 

I was. Without knowing it, that's exactly what I was doing. 
I cringed at the thought when she told me about it. It was perfectly normal for me at the time, but I would never dream of doing such a thing now.

In my counselling program, I've been learning about how to listen to someone. Mostly, I have learned what listening is NOT.  It's NOT getting the gist enough to remind me of something in my own life, and turning that conversation into something about me.  It's NOT thinking of what to say next.  It's NOT dreaming up a solution to the person's problem and trying to "fix" it.  It's NOT a game of one-upmanship, where my suffering is worse than the other person's and they have no right to be upset.  It's NOT belittling the person by saying that they don't have a reason to feel the way they do because it could be so much worse.  It's NOT about me at all.  It's NOT about trying to get the person to stop being sad, or angry, or whatever they feel that might be uncomfortable for me.

What it IS, is about understanding what it is like to be that person. It's about being able to come alongside that person and feel - even if only briefly - a little bit of their pain or distress.  It's about THEM. Their feelings, their experiences, their perceptions.

Photo "Crime Scene Concept"
courtesy of ponsulak
at www.freedigitalphotos.net

Telling them what they SHOULD do is not allowed. Telling them how they SHOULD feel is doubly not allowed! That yellow crime scene tape that indicates danger past that point? That's what is all over those actions. They imply judgment, and a lack of faith that the person is able to solve his or her own problems. That screams, "Danger! Do not cross!"  Ignoring the warnings - cutting that tape - leads to disaster.

It's okay to ask questions if these lead to a deeper understanding of the person's feelings.  The important thing for someone who is hurting is not for the person listening to take the pain away; it is for the person listening to LISTEN, to really HEAR their heart, their feelings, their take on things. People need to feel validated, ... not violated. I was thinking of this last evening as I was talking to a family member on the phone. In spite of my own personal opinion regarding this person's choices, I was not there to pass judgment, agree or disagree, or give direction or even my opinion. I was there to LISTEN - nothing more - because if I gave advice to this person, they would cut me out of their life and that would be a loss for both of us! 

Even if this person asked for my advice, let's say I gave it. Let's say that the advice worked. What harm would that do? the person is happy, the problem is gone, everything's cool, right?  WRONG.  The next time the person has a problem, who do you think they'll come to? That's right, ME. Again, since I'm such a wise person (hahaha) the advice works. I have therefore created a dependent relationship. And the person doesn't grow.

And if (that is, WHEN) the advice doesn't work, and everything blows up, who is this person going to blame? ME. 

See how what seems like a good idea ... isn't?

Friends accept each other and don't try to change one another. Family members, whether blood or chosen, deserve my acceptance. They also deserve to have their boundaries - whether they know they exist or not - respected.  I don't have to jump on everything someone says that I don't agree with. I don't have to constantly state things that I have already made clear in the past: my beliefs, my opinions, or my way of doing things.  That will only push them away when they might need a real connection with me.  

What I need to do when they open up, is to accept that person the way he or she is, and to let them know by example (that is, by listening and refusing to give advice) that what they are going through, and how they feel about it, is important, even if nothing changes. If that means that I don't get to give them the benefit of my experience (such as it is) right now, and merely offer my presence, I think that this would do far more good than rushing to cross that line.

Fighting to rest

As my daughter would say, it's been "a day." Generally she says it when it's just been one thing after the other to make stress mount and things go wrong. 

I'm already dealing with some pretty intense personal stuff, as well as trying to be a support to my daughter as she deals with the realization that she can't get any resolution for her knee because she's WAY too young for a total knee replacement, as well as a new diagnosis of fibromyalgia (from a neurologist just this week) and all the emotional roller-coaster that goes with it (the high of finally getting a diagnosis followed by the crash of the reality of an incurable illness.) 

And not to be outdone, work made us do mandatory overtime. I was just about to do three hours tonight when the boss announced today that we had to do 12 more this weekend. HAD to. Yikes. 

Some of us have lives outside of work. Just saying. 

With such a lot (and a lot more I'm not even mentioning) going on, it's hard to find that time to rest and practice self-care. Sometimes, I have to fight to get the rest I need. I have to elbow in there and carve out time for me - or ASK for time for me. It goes against every guilt trip I ever went on (whether booked by me or someone else) but it is so very necessary to take time out and do what I like to do instead of what I'm expected to do. Or what someone else needs me to do.

Photo "Massaging Shoulder As Very Stressed"
courtesy of Stuart Miles at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Those who have an addiction (as I do) to looking after everyone else ... tend to be on the bottom of their stuff-I-gotta-take-care-of list. Sometimes I don't even get to BE on the list. That's not good. My counsellor used to tell me, "You can't give away what you don't have.  Look after yourself, and you'll have something to give to people who need it." That's great advice. I even take it sometimes. 

But lately I've been having to fight to get space to just be. I've therefore had to make some really tough decisions that free me to have that time and that space to devote to the things (and the people) who matter. It's kind of scary, but I know it will be better in the long run. (Of course mandatory overtime doesn't help - but it is what it is). I find myself counting the days until I take my annual vacation  - it starts September 4. Only 8 more days to work (that is, every day for 8 days, some days more than others). And then I get to rest - until school starts again (on September 9) and I add graduate studies to the mix. Oh well - I'll take what I can get. 

In the meantime, it's not forgetting to "Just Breathe" and lots of the Serenity Prayer ... and remembering to do something nice for myself every day. Sometimes even every hour on those stressful days. 

It's a start.

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.

A Light Rein

Some years ago - more years than I am comfortable admitting - I took some equitation lessons at a local riding stable. 

The instructor taught us, among many other things like flexibility and balance, about the importance of maintaining a "light rein." 

She said that when it came to holding the reins, beginners made two very common mistakes: keeping a tight rein, or a loose one. This had nothing to do with the grip of the rider on the reins themselves, but on the tension between the rider's hands and the horse's mouth ... through the reins. Keeping the reins too tight would end up with the animal not paying any heed to important direction from the rider because it would constantly be pulling at the bit. Keeping them too loose would not alert the rider to the mood of the horse, and would leave him or her unprotected if the mount were to shy away from something and jump sideways, or just take off running! 

The goal, she said, was to keep a "light rein." You could actually feel the movement of the horse's mouth through the reins when you were holding them correctly. Then, the reins became a means of communication back and forth between rider and mount. 

What I learned in an indoor riding ring, I have been able to apply to many aspects of living over the years: living life day to day and navigating relationships with people and with possessions.

Thanks to Tina Phillips for her photo,
"Girl On A Pony"
Source - www.freedigitalphotos.net

Since I've entered a new lifestyle of letting go, one of the things that has been a challenge for me has been knowing the difference between letting go and abandonment, between taking care of the ones you love and being compelled to engage in the dangerous occupation of "care-taking" (that is, a cleverly disguised method of controlling someone through continually rescuing them and making them dependent on your help). 

As I was pondering this fine line - truly a balancing act in which the boundaries keep changing according to the circumstances - the lesson I learned in the riding ring came to my rescue. 

A light rein... that's the answer. If there's two-way communication, if no one person feels obligated to the other, then that's the balance I need to seek. 

That means the rules change according to the situation. Rescuing (in an unhealthy way) in one circumstance is actually having compassion or showing mercy in another. Letting go is appropriate in one situation but it might be abandonment in another. The secret to knowing which one is in how it "feels" - it's okay to help someone, and for them to feel gratitude, as long as each person maintains his or her self-respect and doesn't feel "beholden" or "obligated" to the other. When that doesn't exist - it doesn't feel right.

It's okay to trust that feeling of "rightness."

Parenting is not an Olympic event

I was reading an interesting and thought-provoking article posted on a social media site today about parenting. Specifically, it was about how we in today's society are making parenting harder than it was for our parents when we were kids. 

This is something we've noticed often in the last twenty-odd years. It's almost as though parents today are afraid of each other and / or trying to outdo each other in an effort to not be seen as "bad parents." 

When I was a child, only the rich could afford to put their kids into sports, or get them more than one Christmas present, or have birthday parties for their kids, much less make them into themed ones. We were fortunate to get ONE birthday present. And I remember distinctly that my first, last and only birthday party was when I turned 11 years old. (After that fiasco, I cared nothing for them, and still don't.) Now, parents are having full-blown birthday parties for one-year-olds. And they are totally stressing out over them.
 
Seriously?  Those kids are never going to remember their one-year-old birthday party. So the parents go crazy over something so ridiculous as whether they have enough helium or whether they can find the right color Spiderman outfit for the wall decoration. 

I'm sorry for the crickets in the background ... is that the sound of total indifference? 

Memories can be made without going
over the top...

I'm not saying we shouldn't have birthday parties for our kids. Far from it - making a big deal about the anniversary of the day they took their first breath is a worthwhile endeavor and making memories surrounding times like that can really be the stuff of strengthening relationships .... as long as we don't succumb to the "keeping up with the Joneses" mentality perpetrated by parenting magazines, social media, and sitcoms, to name just a few.

I think that we have seen so much in the media regarding the trouble kids can get into through neglect or boredom, that we are paranoid about letting them have any time to themselves. So we go overboard! Every moment has to be scripted. We keep them entertained because - God forbid - they might think of something to amuse themselves that isn't in "the plan". And who knows? that might mean they'd end up in juvenile hall. It is fear and fear alone that keeps us dreaming up new and exciting things for them to do.

But isn't that the point? I know ... I sort of fell into this trap when my kids were small. I found myself sucked into the myth that they had to have something with which to occupy themselves every moment of every day, and before long, they couldn't make a move without checking it with me first - and then I complained and told them that I wasn't their entertainment director. 

Or was I? 

Yes, I did it to myself. I made myself indispensable. I forgot that my main job as a mother was to get my kids to the point where they could be independent from me. Yes, I could support them; yes, I could be there to talk to. However, the cry of "I'm bo-o-ored" needn't have filled me with so much panic. 

I eventually (possibly too late, I'm not sure) learned to say, "You know what? I am sure that you can find something constructive to occupy your time." When I did, that's when I discovered that these kids had talents that I didn't even know about. One excelled at baking. Another developed a penchant for video editing - like for Youtube! Slowly they have learned ways to amuse themselves in socially acceptable ways. And just as slowly I have learned that I don't need to cow-tow to the tyranny of "Should."

And my obsession with controlling everything they did, thought and said got to the point where they actually resented me for it.... and with good reason!

Years later - I had to apologize to them for that. Talk about humbling!

I used to spend my time berating myself because I wasn't as "natural" a parent as the mom up the street who had her two kids organizing their own yard sales at the age of seven and nine. (Mind you - I consoled myself with the fact that all they were learning was to be mercenary and take advantage of their same-age neighbors by foisting their own cast-offs (most of them broken or tattered) to their friends ... for money.) Or, I compared myself to the mothers who were constantly gushing about their kids and about how fulfilling motherhood was. Yeah, I was seriously doubting my suitability for the career of being a mom because I didn't feel like I thought I "Should." (Oh puh-leeze. Now I know better!) 

It's still a sore spot with me - especially when I hear people talking about their parents or their kids like it's the one thing in their life that gives them ultimate fulfillment... as if those who don't feel that way are somehow defective. 

Parenting is not an Olympic event. There are no winners and losers. You can do everything right and your kid can turn out wrong after all. You can do everything wrong and your kid can turn out right in spite of it. 

This is not a competition; it's life. We don't need to be afraid of each other or envious of each other. We need to realize that everyone has the right to have feelings, whatever they are, and everyone has his or her own take on how to raise a child. 

Acceptance and support goes a lot further and carries a lot more weight than condemnation or judgment. After all, we're raising the people that will eventually carry on where we left off and who will pass on their values and skills to the next generation. The last thing we need is to be competing with each other over something that our kids don't even think is important. Or won't remember!

They're not going to remember who gave them what, or how much something cost compared to something else someone else gave them or anyone else. They are not going to care how many organized activities they've had when they get to be adults. What will matter the most to them is whether their mom and /or dad gave them the one commodity that seems to be the most lacking in our busy world: their time - in paying attention to them, to what mattered to them. It's way easier to let someone else take over the responsibility of spending time with our kids when all they really want is OUR attention. When it all boils down, that's what remains. Kids need to know that they are important to US.

I think the most profound commentary I have ever seen about parenting was summed up in a "Family Circus" cartoon I saw once.  It said, "Parents can give their children things ... or time. Time is better!"

How to KNOW when you've let go

I was chatting with a friend last night when the topic of letting go came up. Recently I've had to do a lot in that department, so it was fresh in my mind. Apparently it was in hers as well. What followed was an in-depth discussion of what letting go looks like, how quickly it can be undone, and how to guard against slipping back into old patterns of behavior.

I guess I can take a minute to talk about why letting go is important. It almost sounds like a moot point, but some people still don't understand this concept, and some even actively oppose the idea as being "cold" or "unfeeling." 

However, letting go is the only way to cure ourselves from a set of self-defeating behaviors that keep us in the delusion that we have any control over someone else's behavior, from the zealous girlfriend's "I'll change him," to the distraught parent who blames himself or herself for the bad choices that his or her child may make as an adult. 

This set of behaviors conveys the message to the person we are trying to change, that we don't trust that person and we think we know what is best for him or her. "If they'd only listen!" we wail ... all to no avail. In fact, often such efforts to control or manipulate the ones we love actually drives them to behave in the very ways in which we DON'T want them to behave! In the meantime, others see our machinations and snicker up their sleeves at us - or worse yet, pity us. 

Here's the thing. There are certain things that are under our control. These are usually things that pertain to our own life - choices we make about ourselves that impact what our quality of life is. On the other hand, there are things over which we have no control. These are usually either circumstances that just happen, or decisions made by other people. The dividing line, the cross-over point, is found in learning where one person stops and the other begins. 

As simple as that sounds, it is not easy for people who (like me) all their lives have been taught that true fulfillment would be found in doing nice things for other people, looking after them, caring for them. I'm not saying that we aren't to care about people. What I'm saying is that there comes a point at which it becomes unhealthy, when we start bearing the consequences of someone else's actions for that person. The danger is that the person we are trying so hard to protect will come to depend on that safety net, and never learn to be self-sufficient or to take responsibility for his or her actions. People learn (or so they say) from their own mistakes. If I prevent someone from reaping the consequences of his or her actions, or I hinder that individual from learning his or her lesson from a mistake made, I rob that person of an opportunity to grow. 

Becoming aware that there is a problem is the first step in starting to remedy it. I remember catching myself "meddling" in my children's affairs - and stopping almost in mid-sentence to backtrack and extricate myself from getting involved. It was not easy. But knowing what the problem was helped me to take steps to correct it. It took a long time, but eventually I could catch myself earlier and earlier when I started to get too "in their face" about something I wanted to control. 

And so, I learned to let go - mostly by trial and error. A LOT of error. 

So ... back to our conversation.

"How do you know when you've let go?" my friend asked me.

Even as I typed, the simplicity of my answer astounded me. "You know you've let go of something when it can 'walk through your mind' without you getting upset, when you can honestly wish the best for that person or that situation without it needing your input." 

Thanks to dan at
www.freedigitalimages.net for his photo,
"Blue Butterfly"

As the conversation progressed, it became clear to both of us that while some people pay lip service to the idea of letting go, very few really grasp what that means, what it entails, how beneficial it is for both parties, and how easy it is to let the tendency to want to control slowly take over our lives again. 

Taking the reins again creeps up on you without you realizing it. Before long you catch yourself making little hints, or grumbling to yourself under your breath, or fantasizing about the way you wish things could be. It can't be separated from acceptance - accepting what IS is so powerful.

I've been living this lifestyle for enough time that to me it seems so simple (notice I DIDN'T say easy) ... and yet it is difficult to learn that once you accept, once you let go, you have to keep on accepting and letting go, and recognize when you grab the reins again (even if only in your mind.) If you don't, you'll crush the very delicate and rewarding relationships you have developed, ones based on equality and not power, ones that neither lord it over others nor are subservient to others.

Old habits are so deeply ingrained that it takes a lot of diligence (especially at first) to realize that "it's happening again." It is possible to train yourself to recognize it - but the human mind has ways of playing tricks, deceiving you into falling back into the same slimy pit over and over again. 

The bottom line, the chief indicator of success, is how you feel about a person or situation. If you are in turmoil, if you are not at peace or not accepting what the situation is or what the actions, beliefs and/or opinions of the other person are (notice I didn't say AGREEING WITH, just accepting), then you can be pretty sure that you've not let go fully ... at least not yet.

When you've let go, resentment is gone. Peace reigns. You can rejoice in the other person's accomplishments even if you don't agree with how he or she got there, and even if you had no hand or part to play in what he or she decided. You have more energy to devote to things that need attention in your own life. You aren't so draggy. It's like someone lifted a fifty-pound pack off your back and turned on a light in a very dark and uneven place. 

Yes, that really is possible. It really is.

Fully fledged

In the life of a young bird, there comes a stage when it gets its flying feathers. Over time, the baby fuzz is replaced by firm feathers - including wing feathers that will be rigid enough to ride on air currents and support the weight of the bird. 

Until that happens, the baby bird spends more and more of its time - still in its nest - flapping its wings, exercising those muscles. Yet it still can't sustain flight. During the stage in which the adult feathers grow in, the bird is said to "fledge," and when there is no more fuzz, it is called full-fledged, or fully fledged. 

Sometimes a bird, even though it's been practicing in the nest and has even managed to lift itself up into the air a bit, still seems to want to stay in the nest; perhaps it is afraid of falling. Eventually, the baby fuzz that's been falling out will blow away from the nest and the rough sticks get more and more uncomfortable. 

Thanks to Jeff Ratcliffe at
www.freedigitalphotos.net for his
photo, "Eagle In Flight"

Before long, the desire to leave the safety of the nest is stronger than the fear of falling - and the bird takes that leap of faith into the invisible, making short flights to the ground, up to branches (or in the case of an eagle, rock ledges), landing on neighboring trees or other suitable perches. At this point, it doesn't leave the protection of its parents but continues to learn to use its wings and to feed itself by watching its mother and father. It only takes a few weeks to learn these skills. Many birds do maintain that family relationship. The family group is a great source of security. And some - just fly away to establish their own territory.

I guess that lately, I've been going through that transition period where the young one has left the nest but is still somewhat dependent, learning all she can to be self-sufficient, strengthening her wing muscles. It's a thrilling but frightening time (for both of us!) and both my daughter and I have been learning a lot from the experience. So far, she's traveled across the country nearly to the other side, lived in someone's car (with them and later with their permission), found a job, faced transportation issues to and from work, shopped for a second-hand car, hunted for an apartment, ... and the list is ongoing. While she's been having all these experiences thousands of miles away, my heart has been traveling with her, praying for her, supporting her, talking her down when she's upset, suggesting options when she's been out of her depth. I even talked her through preparing a chicken dinner for a lady who let her stay with her the first of this week! (And I'm not sure who was more pleased with the results - her or me!)

As someone in recovery from control-freaking and from obsessive care-taking, there's a fine line between letting go and abandonment, just as there is between being there for my child and trying to make her choices for her. It truly is a process where I, like she was when she was in my nest, have been growing my own feathers. 

I can see the day quickly approaching where she will have learned enough to be able to be self-sufficient. I am so proud of all that she has accomplished so far, and I believe in her ability to make it on her own. It's a process for her and it's a process for me too. As I support her in this transition while slowly letting go and allowing her to make her own choices and reap her own consequences, I grow another feather myself. 

And yes, I've been doing a lot of flapping, even some short hovers, and - admittedly - a fair bit of squawking. ;) 

Before long though, I'll make that leap myself - out into the unknown - and find that the invisible is strong enough to carry me too.

More Lessons from Yarn

I keep learning from these crocheting projects! 

After I finished my first real "clothing" project (a hat) which turned out to be too small for an adult, I donated it to a local charity for a yard sale they had coming up. So ... it went to a good cause, and I learned a whole passel of stuff.

I decided to try again. This time, I had some black yarn I'd picked up at a local craft shop. Applying the lessons I learned from my previous project (see my previous post) I took my time, relaxed my grip, unraveled when I made a mistake, and trusted the pattern. 

I'm about half-way through and it's looking fairly good so far. However, I have learned even more from my second than my first, especially because I used black yarn.

Black yarn is harder to work with than ... say ... pink. It's DARK!

So, here are the things I've learned from crocheted (crow shade) work (yes, I know it's a very old, very bad joke!)

Increase the contrast
Use a hook that will contrast well against the color you're using. This helps you to see where the stitches are on the hook and will prevent you from messing up the stitches. 

It helps to have a guide like that, to be sure of where you are and where you want to go. The backdrop of a clear vision of what you really want to do is the starting place for accomplishing it. 

Try not to get discouraged
Sometimes the mistakes look hopeless. Taking your time with it, finding out where it went wrong, and having a little patience to work your way back to the blunder can take extra time, but it is worth it if it results in a successful piece. Setting it down for a little while can help recharge the batteries and give fresh perspective.

In our dealings with those who are closest to us, sometimes we think too many mistakes have taken place on both sides. However, it's worth the extra time that it takes to ferret out what went wrong, deal with it honestly, and work it through (individually or together) without succumbing to the tendency to have a chip on our shoulder.

If it's stuck, it's stuck
Backtracking can sometimes only go so far; at times there has been a hanger-on that has caused a tangle beyond which it's impossible to go. The tighter you pull, the tighter the knot gets. At such a time, the choice remains to go with it the way it is, or cut the yarn and start over from scratch. Either way, it is what it is and all you can do is accept it.

Some things can be lived with. And, like it or not, some things aren't fixable and it's time to say goodbye. True in crocheting, true in relationships or circumstances. It does no good to get upset about it - accepting the situation as it is, is the only way to relieve the stress and find some peace.

Turn on the light
Making it easy on yourself is sometimes no more complicated than reaching up and turning on a light so you can see where to go next, count stitches to find out where you've been, or do a row count to make sure you're on the right part of the pattern. It's a great way to orient yourself and get a general idea of where you are.

At times, in relationships, it helps to clarify the rules, to shed light on expectations and let each other know where we stand. It's so easy to "coast" in relationships with those we love or with whom we work or volunteer. Checking to see if we're playing by the rules, taking each other for granted, or crossing boundaries that are better not crossed, is a wonderful exercise to do once in a while.

It keeps us from perpetuating errors that can destroy relationships. 

Go by feel
Sometimes, given the difficulty of knowing where the next stitch is (especially with dark-colored yarn) the only thing left to do is to "go by feel" - to follow the stitches with your fingers, even poking around in behind stitches to find the right opening. 

That's okay. Sometimes the feeling can give clues and cues that your eyes can't. Learn to work with it, to recognize what the stitches feel like. Then you can trust your sense of touch to guide you as well.

Feelings can sometimes be the only thing we have to go by in relationships; if the feelings are uncomfortable, it's a pretty safe bet that boundaries are being crossed and it might be a good idea to figure out what is going on and where things have gone astray. After a while you can even trust your feelings - contrary to popular belief.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Those are the most recent object lessons from the world of crochet. I'm sure there will be more. All I can do is keep my eyes and ears open, and trust my feelings.

I could do worse. ♥  

Learned by crocheting

The last couple of weeks have been rather stressful at our house, due to one daughter having surgery and another working through some interpersonal problems surrounding boundaries and freedoms, trust and respect, and rights and responsibilities. We as parents have also learned - or perhaps relearned - some old lessons. 

To de-stress, I decided to try something my [temporarily] disabled daughter has been doing to pass the time: crocheting. A friend came over one night to show her how - and I watched. After she had made a few simple items, I decided to try my hand at it - and was (pardon the pun) hooked! 

After spending the last week crocheting, I have learned that my fingers do indeed have muscles (they told me so in no uncertain terms!) and that I can keep away from other, more fattening pursuits by keeping those fingers busy (and it doesn't hurt that I don't want to get crumbs, or grease, or gunk, on my creations!)

I already know how to knit a little bit, and even though I had learned some lessons the hard way in knitting, it surprised me that I had to learn them all over again in crocheting!  I mean, not just about the skills required, but about the whole process. 

"White Glove" courtesy of nuttakit at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

As I learned - or relearned - how to work with yarn with respect to the art of crochet, I found myself humbled by the failures and having several of those "aha" moments along the way.

Here are some of the lessons I mean - and as I write, I find that I'm not just talking about crochet, but about life. Relationships. Setting boundaries. Letting go.

You will see what I mean:

Don't hold on too tightly
Hold the yarn, the makings of the masterpiece, lightly. If you hold on too tightly, the work will get all bunched up, lose its softness, become stiff and hard to do anything with. You'll lose your place, skip a stitch, and you'll work much harder than you need to work in order to make the next stitch. And the next. And every stitch after that. And to be honest, you'll end up hurting yourself by repeating motions over and over again while you are all tensed up. 

Let go. 

I forget this when it comes to people, especially people I care a lot about. I want so much for them to succeed that I tend to grab on to them too tightly... which only serves to reduce my ability to interact with them. Tensions build. The relationship becomes strained, stiff, unnatural. People can't breathe around that kind of clinginess, which is tantamount to controlling. 

Give yourself a break
Learning a new skill and seeing some progress with it is intoxicating at times. When I'm doing a project, I can't wait to see the finished product and sometimes I forget to take breaks. And then I wonder why my eyes can't focus on things across the room, or why I have pins and needles in my fingers from sitting in one position so long (especially when holding on too tightly) and thinking ever so quietly (and stubbornly) to myself, "Just one more row." 

It doesn't work like that. When life is out of balance, other things suffer. Taking a break to rest - or to do other things - can really give enjoyment and perspective to a task (or a bunch of tasks) that sometimes - especially in relationships that are strained - be very draining. 

It doesn't need to be much. For example, last evening, my husband had somewhere to go and I had the choice of staying home and crocheting ... or going to a local department store for an hour. I opted for the store. I hadn't had an outing "just for me" in months. And I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I even stopped at a nearby McDonalds for a small soft drink, and on the way back I got a smoothie to take home to my oldest, who can't get out of the house just now. It made her evening! And mine too: I ran into a young fellow at the McDonalds whom I hadn't seen in years - we caught up on the latest news and he even hugged me ... in public! The pièce de résistance was seeing the delighted look on my daughter's face after a particularly trying day, as I presented her with her smoothie. ☺

It's okay to do a "do-over." 
Frustrating as it is to get half-way through a piece and realize you've been doing something wrong the whole time, it's better to unravel the entire thing and start over than it is to muddle through and end up with something that doesn't fit. (Yes, I did the latter. Oh well - the hat will fit a child. Sighhh.)

It's okay to start over again. It's okay to admit mistakes, even if by doing so the end result takes three times longer to do, than it is to blunder ahead and have to apologize for all the holes and tangled mess you made. (And yes, I've done the latter - with my kids. Dozens of times. Sighhh.) I'm learning to stop before it gets too far, to stop dead in my tracks and to admit my mistakes, go back to where I went wrong and start over.  This has so many applications: ground rules that don't work, parental overreactions, and making concessions that get out of hand, to name but a few. 

Stitches make rows; rows make a work of art
Getting blasé about the little things makes for bigger mistakes later on. Stitching every stitch, not skipping stitches unless instructed to, leaves holes that look like blemishes in the piece. Even such a small thing as forgetting to add a stitch at the end of a row (or a round) that is the same height as the rest of the row (or the round) can make the finished work look amateurish and crude. 

Little concessions made, boundaries not set (or not enforced) make way for bigger concessions and more broken rules (and hearts) later. It's so much better (even if it's harder) to pay attention to the little things. Such a simple matter as saying please and thank you (and meaning it) - or little courtesies such as turning off an appliance (or light) that you turned on - or a decision made to treat the other person's feelings with respect by not criticizing or belittling (even in jest) can make the world of difference in the fabric of our lives, and the lives of those with whom we are in relationship. 

Trust the designer and follow the pattern
On my first major project earlier this week, (I referred to this earlier) I looked at how my hat project was turning out, and I thought, "That's not right. It'll be too big." So, I started to narrow the work beyond what the pattern said. 

And it ended up being too small. 

Duh-h.

Lesson learned. All was not lost; I could give my finished hat to a child or a really petite adult. However, my plan to give it to my daughter (whose head is just as big as mine if not bigger, apparently) was foiled. 

Sometimes I just have to trust that the Designer really knows what He's doing and just concentrate on what I'm told to do next. Even if it doesn't make sense at the time. Even if I think it won't turn out right. The moment I start thinking I know better, that's when things take a turn for the worse. I can't control what someone else says, does, believes, or thinks. When I try to control it (or the other person), my effort blows up in my face. I've proven that time and time again. 

You'd think I would have learned by now. 

However, one thing I will say: Experience is a great teacher.

Growing Season

Earlier this week, I looked outside our picture window and I couldn't help it - a short, surprised, delighted gasp escaped my lips.

Some of the crocus were blooming - the ones closest to the cement step out front. The step is painted a forest green, so it absorbs the heat, and it is slightly warmer in that section of the flower garden. 

It surprises me every time. Winter lasts so very long in the Maritimes that I am startled at any sign of the S-word (you know, Spring - the word whispered in corners so as not to scare away the sunshine...) 

And amazed. 

The bulbs, first planted in the fall before the frost hits, have been asleep all winter, and now they wake from their slumber. Granted, they are the eternal optimists and usually, there is the false start to the spring season. The warm weather allows them to thrive, but it is only to followed by an ice-storm that destroys their delicate blooms. 

This time of year makes me pensive - I start thinking of new life, hope, and promise. 

Last year's blooms

This year, though, recent events (such as our daughter's surgery, as well as some other things) have started me thinking about the entirety of the growing season - from cultivation to planting to weeding to harvest. 

What strikes me as I think about this is that there is a definite structure to it all. The land needs to be worked, aerated. If it doesn't drain well, we mix mulch and other kinds of soil - maybe even sand - into the garden to prepare it to be planted (whether with bulbs, vegetable seed, rhizomes, or pre-started plants.) And then the REAL work begins.

The law of the harvest isn't ONLY that you reap what you sow. It goes a bit further than that. Once germinated, the young plant needs to be nurtured, given room to grow (weeding comes in here), and provided with food and water in just the right proportions for the harvest to be optimal. I've explored these analogies before, but today what jumped out at me was the one thing I hate almost as much as I hate weeding. 

Waiting. 

It seems interminable before the first shoots poke their heads up out of the ground. That in itself is exciting (for the gardener) - but then comes a period of waiting that seems to stretch on forever. The tension between what is and what shall be is frustrating at times. Often it is as much as three months before harvest can happen. Yet there is much to do during that time: hard work to keep the roots clear of encumbrances, working the soil frequently so that it is loose and provides room to grow, and sometimes even pest control. The task is not something one would seek out.

Some of my most unpleasant gardening memories as a child surround being coerced into weeding in my parents' large vegetable garden amongst clouds of mosquitoes and blackflies that seemed inexorably drawn to my tender skin, and walking between the rows of foot-high potato plants with a Coke bottle in one hand - a bottle which had been half-filled with kerosene. I'd pick up and plop squirming potato bugs - adults AND larvae - into the bottle to exterminate them (shudder) and all under a hot and punishing summer sun - a sun which would have been welcome at the beach. But alas, it was not to be.

Some things about the growing season aren't very comfortable, let's just put it like that. I'd so much rather skip to the end, reap the benefits right away. However, it doesn't work that way. Time has to pass, I must work, and I must wait for nature to take its course. I must also cooperate with it on its own terms; the ground will not give forth its bounty easily. It will always tend to slip back into a state of chaos. 

It needs maintenance, husbandry, tending, care.

How like the process of spiritual healing, of recovery, of parenting, of any process where there is an end result desired and it takes time and (grit teeth) patience to get there. 

Sometimes I do what I know is the right thing, and reality's thorns pop up and try to choke the life out of what good I am trying to do. That sucks... but it happens. So ... I do the next right thing. And I pray that a whole sequence of small decisions to live honestly, openly, and willingly, to set boundaries (and enforce them) when I need to, and to let go of things (and people, and outcomes) that I can't change, will eventually produce a bountiful crop. (Or a beautiful flower. Even if the flower doesn't believe she's beautiful.) 

"Do the next right thing," I have learned as I recover from codependency. 

Even when the choice to do the next right thing is hard. (And even when I do it wrong!!) And sometimes, even when doing the right thing makes someone else believe I'm doing the wrong thing, and that person makes a self-destructive choice based on that belief. Those are the hardest things for me to accept. 

The growing season happens one day at a time. My courage fails me when I focus on the endlessness of it, and I complain that it's taking forever for this thing or that thing to happen. 

But I can do only what I can do ... TODAY. Just this one day, I can make the next right choice. I might not be able to do it graciously, or perfectly - but I can live in the moment and do what I need to do to accept what is, and to take care of myself and the people I love, today. 

After all, this moment is all anyone has.

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.

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.

Barely recognizable

A couple of people I know have recently lost a LOT of weight. 

Of course it happened gradually, but after a while folks started to notice. "Wow, you really look great!" people said to them, especially those who hadn't seen them for a while. They flushed with pleasure and showed off the new clothes they'd been able to buy. Or they just said, "Thank you," and grinned to themselves. 

Photo Weight Loss courtesy of luigi diamanti at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Occasionally, someone who hadn't seen them since their "before" picture would say to them, "I almost didn't recognize you!" More smiles. 

Few people would argue that when someone who's overweight loses weight, there are so many health benefits that it would be ludicrous to criticize someone for not being overweight anymore. Or to try to twist that person's arm into overeating again. 

Weight loss is an easily visible transformation. The results are measurable, and those who care about the person who has succeeded in taking off weight would no more do or say anything to jeopardize their success than they would try to drive full speed into a concrete wall! 

Yet when the change is internal, that's often the first thing that happens. People are used to relating to someone in a certain way - and when that person changes, it can be hard for them to adjust. They may react in any number of ways: anger, sadness, fear, or a combination of those ... and more. What is excellent news for the person who's changed on the inside to mature or grow, become more free of fear, of resentment, of anger ... is often NOT good news for those who still see the changed individual as the same old person they used to know. Not that he or she hasn't changed. It's that the people around him or her are actually living in denial, not wanting to admit there's been a change. Or, they see the change but they really don't like it. Like the old drinking buddies of the alcoholic who's in recovery, they just want to go back to the "way things used to be." 

First, the person usually looks the same. The automatic assumption is that the person therefore IS the same ... and that the "change" he or she claims to have experienced either won't last or is somehow suspect, perhaps a veiled personal attack against family and/or friends from that former lifestyle. This leads to some inevitable boundary issues, and may actually lead to the end of certain relationships.

Second, and maybe more importantly, admitting that there has been a change, or saying that it is a good thing, would be the same as admitting that their own lives might need to be changed. In a lot of cases, people just don't want to examine their core beliefs, their attitudes, or their behavior that closely. 

I didn't. Until I did.

That is, I had to get to the place where I was desperate enough to look for help. Anyone who needs help won't seek help unless he or she feels there is no other alternative. Everyone seems to want to do it on his or her own.

Adjusting to that kind of reaction from people from my "old life" was a stretch for me. I guess I naively thought that if I was happier with the new me, then everyone would be. I hadn't counted on folks feeling threatened by it. Or denying it even happened. Or being weirded out by my insistence on rigorous honesty.

Just like I needed to be my own motivational coach, I need to be my own cheerleading squad. To myself, I'm barely recognizable compared to my "before" profile when I look into my spiritual mirror. To the ones who know me well, they can see and rejoice in the difference too. However, very few appreciate the transformation, so most of the motivation to keep it up, and the recognition for milestones already reached, has to come from within. 

For now.