Fuzz Buzz

 Fuzz Buzz.

My husband has nicknames for all of us. I'm Pixie (usually; the other stuff is too personal). My daughter is Krysta Sockeroff (she kept kicking off her left sock as a baby.) The dog is either Fuzzybuddy or goo'bOY. And the cats? Let's see, our newest member (a grey British shorthair) is Little One or Pretty Girl; the other female (a tortie) is Fizz-bizz or Little Girl, and the oldest, Loki (a Bombay), now 8 years old, is (among other nicknames) Fuzz Buzz. 

When he first came to us in January 2014, at the age of 2 months or so, he looked like a black bottle brush. His hair was sparse around his ears and face, and stuck up all over him even though he was short-haired. His eyes were brilliant cornflower blue. (They are now yellowish green, and his coat is silky soft and majestic; he looks like a slender panther with a belly-wattle!) And as a kitten, he raced around here like a buzz saw, knocking over everything in his path. It took him very little time to cut through a room and leave toys and blankets and balled-up candy wrappers in his wake. 

And he's in his glory years now. Eight years old, he's much more sedate, far more regal, and definitely the Enforcer of the bunch (including the dog, whom he lets THINK he's in charge). 

Loki fully grown. 2014-12

 He is the heart and soul of our little menagerie. All of our cats are indoor cats. It's statistically proven that they live longer that way.

 Loki doesn't do much 'buzzing' anymore, unless he's chasing Eris (a.k.a 'Fizz-Bizz') especially in the spring and fall, for some reason. But we love him to distraction.

A few weeks ago he slipped outside in the middle of the night when the dog wanted outside to do his business. We were distraught!  

 He was missing for 3 days - we had his photo on LostPetsPEI, Facebook, on posters we printed off and posted on nearly every corner of our subdivision, and finally, FINally, Krysta found him at 1:30 in the morning, almost 3 days from the hour when he disappeared. We were overjoyed he was safe! Of course he didn't learn his lesson, but he was terrified under someone's deck not 75 yards away from our back door, not knowing how to get back inside.

A couple of days ago, he gagged on some plastic he was chewing. Krysta got it away from him, but his body had decided it was going to rebel. We're not sure what caused it, but he got a blockage in his small intestine. Such things can be fatal within days, so we are glad we got seen by a vet when it was still early. Right now he is under observation, and we're not sure if he will need surgery or if it will "pass." In the meantime, he's on IV fluids and they are trying to feed him. If he refuses ... it's another X-ray, then surgery. And a fairly long recovery (at least a week until the sutures heal plus more time for the belly muscles to reattach themselves to each other.) The vet bills are piling up and will soon need to be paid. We are looking at four figures here. He's worth it, but we aren't made of money (contrary to some people's beliefs about us). I have committed myself to spending at least $500.00 ... which I donated to the GoFundMe I set up). Anyway, all that to say that there is one thing that bothers me the most about being a pet owner.

Or should I say being owned by a pet?? 

It's this: having a pet is a lifelong commitment. You don't throw away a child; you don't throw away a pet when it becomes difficult to care for them. A pet is like a child; it becomes part of you, a member of your immediate family, a confidant, a friend, a hug-buddy, and a comforting and calming presence in your life. So when I hear someone say, "It's just an animal," I get irritated. Mostly because that's not my attitude AT ALL. But also because I could just as easily say of their offspring, "It's only a kid. You can make another one." How calloused is that!? So of COURSE I don't say that because I'm not that kind of person. ...  and I let what that person says roll off me because they just don't understand how important our fur-babies are to us.

My thoughts, my prayers, my positive declarations are for Fuzz-Buzz today. He's at the Crossroads Animal Health Centre (shameless plug for these dedicated people!) and I know he's in the best possible hands. 

Here's hoping I have good news by the end of the day. :)

Listening without preconceptions

"Great spirits have always encountered violent opposition from mediocre minds."
 ~ ~ Albert Einstein

There are many different applications of the above quote. While I have been considered by some to have a mediocre mind from time to time (and the realization that the other person views me this way is not a pleasant thing), I have occasionally been on the other side of the saying too. 

I was reminded of it a few months ago, when someone mistook my identification with and support of those who suffer from depression and suicidal thoughts to mean that I was suicidal myself. I wasn't, of course. But I feel things deeply, and I was going through some pretty intense emotional stuff at the time, so the person's interpretation of my statement, "I can understand why some people actually consider committing suicide," to mean, "I'm thinking of killing myself," led to a very uncomfortable confrontation which I did not ask for, and which I was not at all prepared to handle. 

The person's over-the-top reaction made me feel as though I was being bullied; it only added to my emotional angst.  Had I truly been suicidal, I believe that this person's reaction would have pushed me over the edge. I told her so the next time I saw her (she cornered me), and she dismissed my confrontation as me being "offended."  Hmm, yes I was offended - deeply - and I felt it was necessary to tell her that the way she handled my emotional state was inappropriate and heavy-handed. Yet she totally missed the point and continued (condescendingly) to believe that she was a caring person, one who had my best interests at heart.

That was not my perception at all. However, after I got over my initial reaction to being verbally assaulted, I was able to reflect on the situation and learn some very important lessons. 

First, I learned to never reveal my deeper emotions to people whom I do not totally trust.  This person had not earned the right to speak to me in such a controlling and intimidating way. I should not have let her know any of what was going on inside. 

Second, I learned (through watching her behavior) what NOT to do when someone has revealed that they are struggling with some heavy stuff.  I learned that one does NOT command, talk down at, or otherwise force a conversation, that when I talk to someone about emotional issues, I need to get my head on the same physical plane as theirs. If they are sitting, I sit. If they are standing, I stand - I meet them face to face, not from a position of "less than" or "more than." I need to phrase my reactions in terms of "I" statements instead of "you" statements (for example, "You should," or "You have got to..." which immediately puts the hurting person on the defensive.)  I need to listen to them and not to fill silences with a constant stream of talk, talk, talk.  And I need to ask permission to have the conversation in the first place, or do any other kind of intervention, at all times treating the person with respect. 

None of that happened in the situation I described.  I felt more like a kid called into the principal's office for something he didn't even do: condemned before I even started, and not believed when I proclaimed my innocence.

Photo "Psychologist Listening To Patient"
courtesy of David Castillo Dominici at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Finally, I learned that (too) many people are uncomfortable with strong emotion expressed by someone else; they don't know how to let it be what it is, or to deal with it (especially so-called "negative" emotion) on a personal level, and they want so desperately not to feel uncomfortable. Therefore, they will do or say ANYthing to get it to stop, even if it means emotional bullying. This is where my adaptation of Einstein's quote comes to bear: Those with the capacity for great or deep emotion are always going to encounter violent opposition from those without that capacity (either by choice or by design). So, my soul, be careful - guard your heart because it is the most precious commodity you have. Do not let it be pulled into mediocrity, or dismissed by those who cannot hope to understand. Feel what you feel, yes, but choose carefully how and to whom you reveal those feelings. 

If that sounds arrogant, so be it. For me, it is all part of self-care.

The whole experience has been an important part of my understanding of what a professional psychologist is and what he/she does. These lessons will stand me in good stead when I become a therapist someday. 

Direction ... Not Destination

“It becomes easier for me to accept myself as a decidedly imperfect person, who by no means functions at all times in the way in which I would like to function. This must seem to some like a very strange direction in which to move. It seems to me to have value because the curious paradox is that when I accept myself as I am, then I change.”
- - Carl Rogers, On Becoming a Person: A Therapist's View of Psychotherapy

About a month ago, I sat across from someone who really listened to me and heard my concerns. He wasn't a therapist, and quite frankly, to listen to his career accomplishments, I would have considered him to be unapproachable under normal circumstances (at least, what normal was for most of my life). However, I had heard him open his heart and share his passion with people... and I knew instinctively that he could be trusted.  So I poured out my heart to him. And he listened. And he cared. 

In doing what I did, I admitted to myself that I was not happy with the current state of affairs and that I wanted something to change. I also admitted to myself that I didn't have the power to change anything about my circumstances, but I could talk to someone who did. 

And you know, it happened. When I heard what had been done to fix things, it was like someone removed a 70-pound pack from my back, one that I'd been carrying around for a year. The relief was so great and so tangible that I welled up and spilled over in tears for a few minutes. And then I contacted the man who had listened - and I thanked him. It was all I could think to do. And it was as natural to do that as to take my next breath. 

I write all that because ... because seven years ago, I never would have been able to reach out like that and ask for help. I would have suffered - perhaps not in silence, but in helplessness and misery - and today I realize that the person I was then was me, and the person I am now is still me ... only better, healthier. And the catalyst for change was nothing other than accepting the me that I was then the WAY I was then - and learning to like that person. (By the way,  I had help.)

Photo "Woman Relaxing With Her Eyes Closed"
courtesy of photostock at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Without realizing it, my behavior and my attitudes about things (not necessarily in that order) began to change. The change was automatic. I didn't have to work at it, except to realize and be aware of my behavior patterns. There were a lot of uncompleted sentences and one-eighties in the beginning as I learned a new way to be. I was becoming a better me. And I still am.

As you can tell from the above quote, I love to read things that Carl Rogers (father of modern psychotherapy) said or wrote. (I even listened to part of one of his taped sessions once. It was amazing.) He also said something else about personal growth. He said that it wasn't a destination ... that it was a direction. A process, not a product. That is my experience. Some of that experience was pretty intense - it involved doing things that were hard - but I tackled them when and as I was ready for them, and not before ... and I still do. 

But the weird thing about it all is that without that core of acceptance of who and what I am at the moment, none of the changes I've experienced (and am experiencing) would have been possible or would be possible. It is, as Rogers said, a "curious paradox." 

I can't explain how it works. It just does. Slow but sure, millimeter by millimeter.
And I'm okay with that.

Drawing the line

At the edges of my perception, as I was concentrating on something else and trying to finish up my own work, I overheard what sounded like a conversation about the rain. Someone hadn't thought to bring an umbrella, and then noticed that there was one at the desk of someone who was on vacation. 

The person seemed to be talking to herself. She then convinced herself, in the space of about twenty seconds, that the person on vacation would not mind if she used the umbrella. She decided to take it.

Interesting. 

I was brought up to believe that if you take something that belongs to someone else without that person's permission, that's stealing, and it is wrong. 

Occasionally, if there is a relationship that is very close, where both people trust each other and know each other very well, such liberties might be taken occasionally, but it would be expected to tell the person as soon as possible afterward of the temporary borrowing - and give the item back! Anything less would erode the relationship and eat away at trust. 

Thanks to imagerymajestic at
www.freedigitalphotos.net
for this photo,
"Young Lady Holding Umbrella"

I've noticed that in recent years, the sense of respect and consideration that was endemic to the previous generation - perhaps out of an emphasis on the Golden Rule - has been more and more reserved only for strangers... tourists ... or the people who appear to be more well-off financially. The common courtesy to which every person has a right ... is getting more and more rare. 

I found myself thinking along those lines, even taking pleasure in my own assessment of the situation. And then it hit me. 

If I concentrate on what others are doing, it will drive me nuts. Plain and simple. And that's where I need to draw the line. For ME.

It took me a lot of time to realize that I can't change what anyone else does. However, I can be true to what I believe, and behave accordingly. I spent too many years trying to manipulate people into doing the "right" thing, nearly losing everything and everyone that was important to me in the process, to want to risk alienating them or anyone else by acting (or even thinking) self-righteously. No, I can't draw that line for anyone else, but I can draw it for me. 

Like one day about a month or so ago, for example. I was running late for work, and couldn't find a blazer to put on that would go with my outfit - and noticed my daughter's jacket on the back of a chair; it went perfectly! She was sleeping. I wore the jacket because I knew that if I'd asked her ahead of time, she'd have said yes without hesitation. Nevertheless, when I came home, I took it off, put it back where I got it, and told her immediately. As I suspected, she was fine with it, but I was fully prepared to apologize for my actions and to respect her wishes if she told me not to do it in the future. 

Acting according to my own beliefs, following my conscience, protects me in often confusing surroundings. Many times I find that the line between right and wrong is smudged, unclear. Often it's because I am not sure how I feel about a given situation or my own part in it; it's that ambiguity that gets me into trouble. When I am centered, when I am most self-aware and confident in my relationships with myself, with God, and with other people, that is when I can make the choices that are right for me, and treat people with the respect that they - and I - deserve.

Gently

For the last few months, as a steady stream of young people flows through our house to meet the social needs of one of our children, I've been noticing how some of them interact - specifically, how some of them treat each other.

Or rather, I should say, how they mistreat each other.

Maybe I missed the memo permitting friends to disrespect each other, call each other unspeakable names, strike each other, and use each other (and use their friends' parents) to "have fun". 

On the other hand, perhaps it's still wrong to treat another human being with disdain (even in jest!) - no matter how much right we feel we have to do so - much more wrong if that right we feel that we have is gained by means of familiarity. What I'm saying is that all too often, people can treat their family and friends in a way they'd never dream of treating other people. They justify cruelty by saying that the formality of rules and manners isn't necessary among friends. 

I've experienced relationships like this. Two people, both in extreme dysfunction, feeding off each other and using each other to meet the other one's emotional needs to be stroked, to feel important, to put the other one down - even joking around - to feel better about the self. 

I've seen these relationships fall apart, time after time. I've even witnessed marriages crumble over years and years, only to eventually fail, because one person (or both) got so incredibly tired of the other person taking him or her for granted, assuming the other person would "understand" - while all the while there were stress fractures that got deeper and deeper. Then, one day, one more unkind word, one more inconsiderate act, one more joke at the other one's expense - and someone just up and walks away, leaving the other bewildered. After all, it's always been this way; how could this happen?

It happens because common courtesy apparently isn't all that common. 

The old saying goes, "Familiarity breeds contempt." Time and time again, people forget to treat each other's treasure (the irreplaceable things that are most important to them) gently. 

Gently. 

Photo "Teenage Girls Gossiping" courtesy of Ambro at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

I know one woman who - every day for the last forty plus years - has made fun of her husband's height. She is taller than he is and ... she never lets him forget it.  

Every time she lords it over him, I see him cringe. He dies a little bit inside with every "short joke" she makes. He's learned not to object because then ... she laughs at him.  How much longer, I wonder, before his love and patience run out and he leaves her physically? He's already done it emotionally ... Or (worse yet, it could be argued) how many years has she removed from his life? Talk about shooting yourself in the foot!

And truly.  How much more effort does it take to be kind than to ridicule someone's choices, or (worse yet) poke fun at those things over which he or she has no control at all? (Height. Hairline. Age.) And it could be anything - any difference - and happen at any time! One middle aged man walking by the vehicle of a "friend" in a parking lot after a church service yells out to the driver (within earshot of his wife, who is beside him in the car) "Who's that old woman in there?" 

Seriously?

How much more effort and thought does it take to be considerate than to be unthinking? I guess I just answered my own question. People just don't want to THINK - they prefer to run on autopilot. All the while, they spew out poison on people and expect them to take it because they've bought into the fallacy that "Love means never having to say you're sorry." 

No. Tyranny means never having to say you're sorry. 

Love is patient, kind. It thinks of the other person first. (Which um, involves thinking. Wow.) I guess that is what counselors mean when they say that healthy relationships take work.

Hmm.

Kith and Kin

Yesterday, there was a cryptic phone message on our voice mail from my mother, saying that my brother was in their local hospital with "double pneumonia." Since he also suffers from Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (COPD) this could be very serious indeed. 

I resolved to phone the hospital to see how he was doing, since a trip at this time of year would not be feasible ... unless it really were serious, in which case I would go. 

This morning I phoned and spoke to his nurse. I was not listed as "next of kin," she told me, and therefore she was not allowed to discuss his diagnosis. She then proceeded to only give me general information. I was able - because I knew how - to pry enough information as I needed to reassure myself as to his condition. 

The bottom line is that he was admitted FIVE DAYS AGO with shortness of breath (not yet diagnosed). The general feeling is that he has some sort of flu, but that his fever is gone and he has good days and bad days - much like he was before - only he does cough at night and this is distressing for him. 

I mentioned to the nurse that I may be calling again to check on his condition in a couple of days. She warned me that someone else might not give me as much information as she did. 

Ouch.

I am very relieved that his condition is not as grave as my mother made it sound. However, the fact that she waited four days before telling me, that I wasn't even listed as an approved family member, and that she used such alarmist tactics to get me to re-establish contact with her, leaves me with a rather sour taste in my mouth. 

Family ties vs friendships : some people are lucky
enough to have both.
Photo courtesy of photostock at www.freedigitalphotos.net

Over the last four years, my definition of "family" has evolved into the kind that allows me to not be around people who make me feel like I'm "less than." 

These days, my "family" is those who build me up, those who value me as a person and who don't judge me or manipulate me.  

Just today, I started thinking of the expression, "kith and kin" - and I was curious as to the difference between the two. So, I consulted Professor Google. Kin refers to blood ties (genetic markers) one has with one's family of origin, or with one's siblings or children (possibly cousins, aunts, uncles, etc.) It implies warm feelings; the word "kinship" speaks of a heart affinity. (Some folks aren't lucky enough to have that with all of their family members; if you do, be VERY grateful!!!) 

However, the word kith refers to one's friends and neighbors, and comes from (depending on the source you read) the Old English or the Germanic root words for "knowing" or "to be known". Kith are the people who know you, who love you, whom you love - not because you HAVE to (i.e., because they are your relatives) but because you WANT to. 

I am grateful to have been blessed with kith. Friends - not acquaintances, but real true friends, those who really do care and about whom I care. Deeply. People who choose my company rather than feeling obliged to spend time with me. People who depend on me (not in a clingy way but who know that they can come to me if they need someone to talk to) and on whom - I have learned - I can depend. 

That is a marvelous feeling. 

I want to pass that feeling on to the people in my life. I want my children to feel that kinship with their parents; I want my friends to consider me to be 'kith' to them. I want to surround myself and my loved ones with that sense  of safety, the one where you don't feel you have to be on your guard around someone because you know that both people are going to handle each other's hearts with the respect and consideration they deserve. 

And that feeling of being safe, of being with 'kith' ... is a priceless commodity.

Waiting to blossom

Whether winter happens for you in December through March (and here in the Maritimes, it's more the end of April...) or June through August, the colder weather, the reduction in humidity, and especially the shorter days (and therefore less sunlight) can play havoc with people's moods and activity levels. There's a kind of pseudo-hibernation that seeps into the mind and sometimes even the body. 

Where I live, "cocooning" is very common. It's the tendency to hunker down inside the house and not go out except for necessities: groceries, gas, work, possibly church. People don't visit each other - or they have to make a special effort to do so. 

The last couple of months, I've been experiencing this kind of phenomenon more than usual. There's an almost imperceptible sense of being in suspended animation, of 'waiting' for something... sometimes not so patiently.  

About three years ago, I ordered a Hoya carnosa plant from a nursery in Georgia that specializes in those kinds of plants. They sent me three rooted cuttings and I planted them. ONE survived. It grew from a five-inch-long stem with three leaves on it to the size it is today, about four feet long from root to longest tip. 

This kind of plant has to be well established before it will bloom. So, I've been waiting and expecting it to produce bloom clusters - they fill the air with a heady fragrance that is intensified by the nectar that hangs in droplets from the center of each flower. So far ... it has not bloomed. I've seen signs that it's developing the "nibs" from which the flower clusters will eventually grow, but it's happening a lot more slowly than I'd like.

My Hoya - photo taken about three weeks ago

It is healthy; it is growing and sending out shoots, and the foliage is lovely. Yet I find myself wondering when it will blossom.

In a way, I feel like my life is like that plant right now. I know where I want to be, but it's like I'm in a state of pseudo-hibernation. I'm healthy and growing; I know I am ... but it seems the conditions are not right for flowering. 

I know that it will happen. I just don't know when. And there's a large part of me that longs for it to start happening NOW. 

What I need to understand about the plant is that it takes however long it takes ... and that in the meantime, I need to look after what's there. There may be only leaves, but maybe if I focus on keeping them healthy, Mrs. Hoya will surprise me. And the way I keep them healthy is by providing enough light, warmth, and the right amount of water and food to nourish the roots. 

The same applies to me. I just need to make it a priority to look after my growth needs, to nourish my roots (those parts of me that are hidden from view but which are crucial to my spiritual health) and to stay in the warm atmosphere of acceptance, and the light of unconditional love.

Thoughts on Fences

Over the past few months, I've done a lot of thinking about forgiveness - what it is, what it isn't, how it happens, what that looks like in practical terms.

I've done a lot of things I have needed forgiveness for - and I've needed to forgive people for many things. Some have been minor annoyances, misunderstandings, questions of boundaries of which I or the other person was unaware. Such things are usually relatively easy to forgive and to apologize for, especially if the relationship itself is fairly solid. 

It is harder - sometimes much harder - when the offenses are habitual in nature, when the relationship is either damaged or no longer salvageable, and where one (or both) of the parties refuses to admit wrongdoing. A situation like that requires a good understanding of the boundaries between forgiveness and foolishness, between magnanimity and masochism. 

A paddock fence keeps the horses inside
and safe from wandering off. It also reminds people
to stay out from underfoot...

The old adage, "Good fences make good neighbors" comes to my mind because unless everyone involved knows the boundaries, they will keep getting crossed, over and over again. A fence is a great way to protect what's on the other side from being trampled; it can also protect the person from entering a potentially dangerous situation, such as in the case of a fence around a pasture where there's a bull.

Neighbors can interact over the fence, and I've had quite a few of these interactions over our own back fence. I've also had issues with some other neighbors coming onto our property without our permission and taking things that didn't belong to them - usually young thieves who helped themselves to something we left in our unlocked vehicle.  Remembering to lock the car has kept these incidents to a minimum. Other (former) neighbors have - in the past - behaved in such a way as to hurt my kids; these infractions have not been as easy to forgive. 

However, it's the invisible fences that are the most difficult to erect ... and to detect. These are relationship boundaries - something that I never knew existed up until just a few years ago. 

There was always a lot of friction in my home growing up - and nobody really knew why, because nobody realized that there needed to be boundaries and that there are some things where you just need to put up a big "Do Not Trespass" sign. And when natural boundaries between siblings caused problems, the parents (who - quite frankly - saw their children as their property) would intervene and try to use shame as a weapon to "keep the peace." We were therefore not allowed to "fight" ... over anything. As a result, we never learned how to stick up for ourselves. We never learned how to identify when someone had crossed a boundary because those emotional and psychological boundaries were not allowed.  And we never learned how to forgive. Forgiveness meant making excuses for the other person's behavior. And apologies were never voiced - the offender merely tried to "make it up to" the person who had been hurt. There was never any admission of wrongdoing. Nobody dealt with the elephant in the room. They just made it lie down. Each of us walked on eggshells around the other, afraid to incur his or her wrath.

That's no way to live.

What I've learned in the last few years is that without permission to have boundaries, there can be no forgiveness because there is no acknowledgement that someone has done anything wrong. The phrase, "There's nothing to forgive," is not forgiveness. If there was no offense, then any forgiveness offered is meaningless. 

When I first realized, early in my recovery, that I had been wronged as a child, that my unseen boundaries had been crossed in so many ways and by so many people, and that my pain was a natural response to being hurt - this was the first step in becoming free of it. I had always blamed myself for feeling bad; it was a big deal for me to realize that the bad feelings were natural and healthy for what I had been through. I began to see that in a lot of cases, I played absolutely no part in the wrongs that had been done to me, and I had spent decades feeling guilty for being angry and fearful, for wanting to protect myself, for wanting to get away from my abusers. 

With God's help, I was able to work through each of those hurts and come to a place of healing from them and to real, true forgiveness, even to the point of feeling compassion for those who had - in their ignorance and dysfunction - hurt me in ways they could not begin to fathom. 

Eventually of course, after I'd been healed of those things, I was able to admit to myself the wrongs I had, in turn, done to others out of my own dysfunction - and to go to them, admit my wrongdoing, and apologize from my heart. I was amazed at the graciousness of those I had hurt, their willingness to forgive me. Relationships were restored. I gained more than I lost. 

Yet there was still more to do. With respect to the ones who had beaten me or abused me in other ways (verbal, emotional, or sexual), even though I had built some bridges, I needed to build some fences, too. Just because I had forgiven them didn't mean that I could go back into an abusive situation; I needed to let them know where the boundaries were. 

This is one of the most shame-producing aspects of moving on, in the life of someone who has been systematically abused and whose abusers have not and will not change their behavior. The words "FORGIVE AND FORGET" - emblazoned in shame across the psyche of the abuse survivor - are not only an impossible directive, they are also unwise in situations like that. 

Building those fences was hard work, and I made a lot of mistakes along the way. I took too much ground back - then gave in and let myself be abused again - and finally I worked out a way to come to terms with it. I gave people a chance to get used to the new me; I had changed so very much! When it became clear that this new me was unacceptable to them, when they took advantage of my forgiveness and started to abuse me (and my children) all over again  - and in most cases they did - that's when I needed to fortify the fences. That's when I had to say goodbye. 

It was sad, but there was no other way.

The bridges are still there. Forgiveness is still in effect. I no longer wish for these people to be punished for what they did, and I no longer expect them to give back what they took from me. In that sense, I am more free than I have ever been. 

Nevertheless, I need to be realistic. Just because I've forgiven doesn't mean I have to be stupid. If relationship with them harms me or my husband or my kids, then it's best if I stay away. These are natural consequences for their behavior, another thing I am learning to allow people to experience - even if it's painful for me. 

Someday, I hope and pray that they will understand and accept that it's not okay to treat people like property. Until that time, I can busy myself with trusting those who are trustworthy, and building relationships with equals instead of with those who believe themselves to be superior. 

I used to think - because I never knew any different - that people who would accept me and be in relationship with me as an equal were few and far between. 

I'm delighted to be so wrong about that. 

None of my business

Honestly. Sometimes I feel like I'm right back in high school. 

"Did he say something about me?"
"I heard so-and-so said that he said you weren't talking to him." 

And on and on. What are we, thirteen years old?

This evening, I got broadsided by someone who doesn't know me very well at all, but thinks that he does because he hears what people he knows say about me - and based on their interpretation of what I'm about, he felt he had the right to tear a strip off me. 

Me after a wisdom tooth extraction last year, "warts and all."

I've spent nearly the last four years learning to let go of my need to control things and people, and some lessons have been harder than others. 

One of the hardest has been when other people lie about me or have an opinion of me that is less than I would like - even if I don't particularly like them... and they spread their poison and infect others with their particular viewpoint. That's what happened here. 

I'd had a hard week, just coming back from being sick for nearly two weeks, having to make up some time that I lost with very few physical resources left.  

So, I reacted. I told him what the truth was, and in no uncertain terms. He'll probably never want to speak to me again. For about a half-hour afterward, I was agitated, pacing the floor, not able to let go. Then my hubby (bless him!) reminded me of something I'd forgotten, a quote worth remembering. 

"What other people think about me is none of my business."  ~ Simon Cowell

This is one of those "things I cannot change." I told the truth, and whether I'm believed or not has nothing to do with it. I just have to let it go and remember that I'm not responsible for what other people think about me or say about me. I just need to live my life and let others live theirs. 

Live and let live. One day at a time. Serenity to Accept what I cannot Change - which I just don't have in myself. So I ask for it - and I say Please. And it comes ... if I allow it to come. (I'm reminded of a poster my therapist had on his wall - "Today is a good day ... unless I make other plans.")

And what IS my business? Changing what I Can Change - which takes Courage that I don't have - so that's why I ask for it.

And that comes too. One Day - One Minute at a Time.

After the miracle comes

In my last blog post, I talked about my friend whose faith through a trial has been tenacious. Of course, the amazing happened in her life and God really showed Himself strong in her situation when all seemed hopeless. Here is an account of her miracle, and a few comments on it. 

And now that she has received her impossible dream-come-true, like Henny Penny from the fairy tale by Andersen, she looked around and found that nobody from the circle of friends she expected has lifted a finger to help her rid herself of the vestiges of her old life and get started in a new one. A new group of friends pitched in their time and resources to help her. But as she sat across our supper table from me last evening, she shook her head and said, "Nobody from [XXXXX] even showed up." 

I tried to make excuses for the group she mentioned, but it was tough, you know? Everyone makes time for what is important to him/ her. 

Snowflakes - miracles in themselves

Yet ... this time has been great for her to strengthen friendships with those who really do care about her and about her happiness and who show it. I've had priceless opportunities to put "skin" on my platitudes and actually roll up my sleeves and invest a little "sweat equity" into the relationship. 

Am I stiff and sore this morning? Oh yeah. Do I regret digging deep into two of my most precious commodities - time and energy - to help her? 

Absolutely not. In fact, I've been encouraged by her excitement, even challenged by her getting into the "Christmas spirit" (something I haven't felt for years, except in fleeting moments, nothing sustained) and wanting to decorate her place for the holidays. Everything feels so fresh and new, and her gratitude for God's goodness is tangible. 

It is wonderful that so many have had the blessing of praying for her and being able to take part - in some small way - in what God did for her. But it would have been nice to not have left the other, more practical things, for others to do. 

There are a lot of ads on TV these days about child sponsorship and giving a goat to a family half-way around the world. But what about the person who lives in our city, goes to our church perhaps, who is living below the poverty line and who struggles to make ends meet? who has to choose between food and electricity? What about the homeless in our own back yard? What about "at-risk" families in our province or state who don't have enough money to buy Christmas presents or school supplies or shoes for their kids? 

I'm talking to me, too. Ouch!

I know of some families who have given up on buying each other gifts for Christmas and who donate their time at the soup kitchen, or who donate the money they would have spent on Christmas shopping ... to turkey drives or the food bank. Thinking "outside the boxes" beneath the tree might do a lot of good for people who need help; it would also let them know that someone cares for them in a way that surpasses platitudes. And the thing about giving in that way is: it not only meets a need in someone's liife, but it helps the one who gives ... in ways that can't be measured. 

It might even spark some Christmas spirit. 

Saddle Sores

Sometimes, getting along with people is hard.

Put another way, the intricacies of interpersonal relationships are such that they can turn into a mine-field more than a healing zone. 

Whether at home, work, church, school, or elsewhere, the potential for misunderstandings and power-plays (and everything in between) is huge because people are human - and humans make mistakes. Humans also like to be right, and will do anything to convince themselves that they are right. Even if it means manipulating the situation in such a way that the other person looks wrong - or stupid.

I was bemoaning such a relationship last night as I tried to get to sleep - and sleep would not come. The more I thought about a particular sequence of events, the worse I felt. The feeling of being betrayed, irritated, used, taken for granted (even possibly taken for a fool), and ... ridden - was tangible. This morning, as I tried to make sense of it all, tried to identify what was wrong, I listed my feelings as if they were physical symptoms ... and because I have a background in equitation, suddenly it became clear to me.

I have saddle sores. You know - the kind that horses get. Only mine are emotional.

To test my theory, I went to Google found an article on saddle sores, what they are, what causes them and how to prevent them. It's as I thought. Saddle sores are tender, raw spots on a horse's back or sides that happen when there is repetitive rubbing against the hair follicles. They usually happen where the equipment (like the saddle and/or the girth, or the strap that holds the saddle on the horse) comes into contact with the horse. 

Friction causes saddle sores. It doesn't have to be a whole lot of friction, just a few millimeters is all it takes, but it's the repetitive nature of it over a prolonged period of time, back and forth, over and over, that causes the hair follicles under the saddle to become inflamed and tender, and it can lead to infection, and sometimes even dead tissue - which (after removal) means that the hair never grows there again. And did I mention that saddle sores HURT? Think blister. Think abscess.

Ouch. A horse with a saddle sore can't be ridden for a long time, until the sore is healed completely. That can mean weeks of treatment. 

What am I getting at? Well, the author of the article says that there are several underlying causes of the irritation that leads to saddle sores and other similar sores that appear under the bridle or other riding or harness equipment. These main causes are: 

• the way the individual horse is built - this can't be changed, but allowances can be made for it;
• the riding equipment that's used: saddle and bridle, especially if these things are unclean. A dirty saddle or bridle is stiff and crusty, doesn't bend with the horse's movements, and rubs the hair and skin raw; and
• how well the rider rides - this can be changed!

Now. Here's where my mind started kicking in; here's the analogy part. Think of the following symbolism (if you haven't already figured it out):

• the horse is the one feeling "ridden" or "used" - in this case, me;
• the saddle and bridle (also called the "tack") is the rules and regulations, the organizational framework in which I and the other person/people involved operate; and
• the rider is the other individual (in essence, the one who is "riding" me). This is the person who has some sort of power or control over me, whether by delegated authority or by function.

Photo "Horseman On Horse" courtesy of dan at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Treating saddle sores is far more unpleasant for everyone than preventing them from happening in the first place. It takes a little extra care, but the time investment is well worth it. It makes the relationship far more enjoyable - in the horse world and in the human world!

In particular, as I review the three main causes for saddle sores (the individual makeup or quirks of the one being ridden, the flexibility of the rules and regulations under which everyone operates, and the skill of the rider), might I suggest the following applications for preventing the emotional effects of being "ridden?"

• Judicious use of padding - Saddles come in standard sizes; horses don't. Good riders know that a great saddle pad, if used properly, can help prevent saddle sores from happening. If the horse has physical quirks, such as bony shoulders for example, adjusting the pad before putting the saddle on the horse can prevent that extra pressure from bearing down on the horse's back. In the same way, knowing where someone is sensitive and making allowances for those things can help prevent the rules - and the one holding the reins - from rubbing him or her the wrong way.
• Making sure the rules are fitted to the person - The equipment has to fit the horse properly in order to be effective. There are guidelines to use to make the bridle fit comfortably so the horse isn't in pain all the time, things to remember to make sure the girth doesn't pinch, or the front of the saddle doesn't bear down on the bony part of the shoulders. If you need to awl another hole through a strap to make it fit right, then that's what has to happen. If you need to get someone a special piece of equipment to make his or her life/job/ministry/schoolwork better while still staying within the boundaries of decorum and being considerate of others involved, then that's an investment that needs to be considered seriously.
  
• Keeping the rules from becoming rigid and inflexible - Good riders know the importance of cleaning their tack after every use - at least wiping off the saliva, sweat and dirt with a damp sponge or cloth - and regularly cleaning the saddle and bridle with saddle soap, a sponge and a little water to keep the leather supple, to prevent it from getting brittle and rough. Rough leather rubs against the animal and causes saddle sores faster. In the human application, a good rule of thumb here is "people before things."  Consistently refusing to listen to someone who has a need and a right to be heard and appreciated in a meaningful way, can drive a person to the wrenching decision point of wanting to permanently end the relationship.
• Being open to instruction - Bad riding: continual bump-bump-bumping on top of the horse, yanking at the reins, or flopping the legs around, can cause more friction and more quickly irritate the places where the tack comes in contact with the horse (not to mention irritating the horse itself!); it can also damage the equipment and not make it last as long. This can be fixed if the rider is willing to take lessons and listen to someone who knows more, to benefit from the experience of an expert. In the same way, it's important for the person at the controls to have an extremely rare quality: the capacity to be teachable. Being teachable increases flexibility and benefits both parties; it improves the relationship and helps it last longer and be more enjoyable for all concerned. 

Like all analogies, this one has its limitations, but I think I've drawn enough comparisons to at least provide food for thought. 

The Bubble

Personal Space in a Crowded World

One of the first things that freshman Psychology students learn about is personal space. At the core, everyone has an invisible bubble around him or her. Depending on how close a relationship there is, a person can allow someone to the outer limit of his or her personal space, or allow entry. 

The average North American's personal space bubble is three feet in every direction. This is generally "arm's length." Strangers are not allowed to touch the edge of that space. Acquaintances may touch it, but not enter in very far. Close friends are allowed inside, but may not be allowed to touch. Intimate friends (such as a spouse or a best friend) have permission to make physical contact. The rules vary depending on the personality. Extroverts allow more touching; introverts don't.

Personal space bubble drawing - here's the blog article

Different cultures also have different definitions of that space and the rules surrounding them. In the European culture, for example, the sense of personal space is a lot smaller. People allow other people within two feet with no problem, and the rules surrounding touch are far more lax. This is why, when you're traveling to (let's say) Italy, you might feel uncomfortable when your host gets up in your face and waves his arms around, nearly touching you. (shudder) 

Differences in culture can occur not just in the personal physical space, but also in the attitudes that people have. In the culture of which I am a part, the average person doesn't get excited or vocal about much. Nobody raises his or her voice much; nobody jumps up and down (unless it's at a sporting event); nobody likes to get involved in a hot debate or enter any kind of confrontation. It just isn't done. 

If someone from another culture comes into that mix, someone to whom these behaviors (shouting, jumping up and down, debating) are not only acceptable, but desirable, there is a conflict. People get uncomfortable. Some people - like me - just shut down and clam up in situations where that individual is saying, "What's wrong with you people? don't you get excited about anything?" (Inner voice: "Umm, yes, I do, and no, I don't see the need to shout about it. Step back another foot or two and lower your volume; you're in my face. And that is NOT a good thing.") 

It's so important to define boundaries in situations like this. I need to keep reminding myself that not everyone picks up on non-verbal communication and I just might have to (horrors!) SAY how I feel rather than stew and fret about it. If someone is infringing on my personal space, and I dread being around that person, it's my responsibility to make the boundaries clear - if I want to remain in relationship with that person. This is something I've had to learn over the last couple of years. It's slow going.

When personal space is injured

Sometimes a person's sense of safety is wounded. Someone, or a whole lot of someones, strikes an axe to the foundation of the rules that govern the person's definition of right and wrong, just and unjust. A person exposed to this kind of event can become suspicious, afraid, even angry and belligerent. The underlying reason is the belief that the world isn't safe. This can happen at any time of life, and in any number of ways, including:

• child abuse: physical, emotional, sexual, abandonment, etc., especially if this took place over several years
• witnessing man's inhumanity to man (or animal) and being prevented from stopping it
• dangerous / life-threatening situations including being the victim of any kind of violent crime
• death threats or threats of physical or sexual violence, whether experienced directly or indirectly (e.g., when someone you love has had this happen)
• bullying: at school, at home, at work, or at church
• motor vehicle accidents - either being the victim, related to the victim, or a witness
• personal loss / grief (social, financial, family, church-related, work-related)
• constant, chronic, untreatable pain
• having a life-threatening illness or watching a loved one struggle with a life-threatening illness

Such experiences sometimes lead to a certain set of behaviors and symptoms that have become known as "Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome," or PTSD. Granted, it appears in varying degrees depending on the severity of the stressful experience and how long it lasted. But one of the symptoms of PTSD is an expanded personal space. In fact, the shape of the personal bubble changes. It's not only bigger (say, 4 feet instead of 3), but it's also bigger in the back than in the front or the side. I know because I have that symptom, and have for many years. My personal bubble is 4 feet in diameter, but it's over 5 feet behind me. If I enter a room, I have to either be close to the door for a quick getaway, or in a corner with my back to the wall so nobody sneaks up behind me.  I'm not saying that I HAVE this disorder, just that I have that symptom.

Here are some of the other, more common symptoms of PTSD (the first four must be present, along with an identifiable traumatic experience, in order to make a clinical diagnosis) - just for interest's sake, I've "starred" the symptoms I have had in the past:

• re-experiencing the stressful event: "flashbacks" *
• avoiding situations that remind the person of the traumatic event(s) *
• emotional numbing: being unable to feel love, tenderness, or compassion
• hyper-vigilance: an obsession with order, safety, or control of the environment *
• severe anxiety in new situations, combined with an overwhelming desire to escape from them *
• nightmares, waking in cold sweats *
• insomnia *
• suspicion of everyone and everything *
• increased personal space *
• episodes of depression; occasional to frequent thoughts of suicide *
• occasionally, the person may experience panic attacks, and in very severe cases, psychotic behaviors -  hallucinations, "zoning out", paranoid delusions, etc., usually in very stressful situations

There are more, but these will give an idea of the kinds of ways that the mind can find to cope (or not to cope) with trauma. PTSD is a horrible disorder that affects a lot of people, and it isn't just a "soldier's illness." Anyone can suffer from it. 

Many sufferers talk about "retreating into their bubble" - isolating themselves because it's the only way they can feel safe - and it takes a lot of effort to venture outside that comfort zone.

Treatment usually involves a combination of medication and therapy. Milder cases can be managed with therapy alone. And once a person has PTSD, it doesn't mean that he or she will always have it. Some have suffered acute symptoms for several months or a couple of years, and they have resolved themselves with therapy and/or with anti-psychotics, antidepressants or anti-anxiety medications. It depends on what the initial trauma was, how long it lasted, whether anything else compounded or added to it over the years, and quite a number of other factors. Those that do have chronic PTSD can learn to manage the symptoms and live normal lives. It is not anything to be ashamed about, and talking about it does help, especially if it's with people who understand what it's like.

The lifestyle I live now goes a long way toward easing my symptoms; they are much less intense than they once were. I remember when nearly every night was filled with nightmares where I re-experienced the violence that was so much a part of my growing up, or where my deepest fears came to life and I would wake in a cold sweat. The "One Day At A Time" and "Let Go and Let God" approaches allow me to release things that are out of my control and get on with the business of living and enjoying life. I've gone back to the past deliberately, not to dwell there, but to allow God to banish the demons that lurked behind me to devour me. I try to focus on living in today, and leaving the future to the Almighty. 

Which leaves only today (what a relief!), in which I am learning to live with gratitude. My over-sized bubble is slowly getting smaller as I continually learn to trust myself and God more, to let trustworthy people inside. It's a long way from where I'd like it to be, but it's coming.

Those who matter

Be who you are and say what you feel, because "Those who matter don't mind, and those who mind don't matter."

This quote is incorrectly attributed to Dr. Seuss. The portion in quotation marks was spoken by Bernard Mannes Baruch (presidential advisor to Wilson and Roosevelt) regarding whether he wanted any special seating arrangements at a banquet.

In my previous post, I opened myself up to scrutiny by those of you who still read my blog... and I will admit that when I clicked "publish" ... it was with fear and trembling, even dread of being judged - much more so when I submitted it to the one who issued the challenge about which I spoke, since I have 15 followers and she has over 300. (Gulp.) 

I will also admit that I care - even after three and a half years of recovery from such things - far too much about what people think of me. Being human, I like to be liked.  I am (just like the rest of the world) hard-wired for connection. As much rejection and abandonment as I have known in my life, it still hurts to be excluded, ignored, or passed over - for whatever reason.  

But it's slowly dawning on me, this radical truth of "those who matter don't mind, and those who mind don't matter."  Married with the idea that "friends are God's way of apologizing to you for your family," I'm beginning to see that it's the heart connections that matter - whether those are blood ties or not.  That the support and encouragement of true friends ... trumps the pettiness and poison of those other toxic relationships, whether they are with family or not.  Every time.  I have a few such golden friends.  I value them ... I treasure them more than I can begin to express. And I can express a LOT.  ;)

As I was saying, when I submitted that blog post to my fellow-blogger for inclusion on her site ... it was with much fear and trembling.  I felt exposed, raw, vulnerable to attack. I think I even said to myself, "NOW what have I done?"  

Yet I was curious (morbidly or not) to know what my fellow-blogger thought.  I kept watching my inbox.

Nothing came.

HERE is a great article on hugging!

A few hours later, I once again checked my inbox.  Nothing was in there, but there was something sitting in my Spam folder.  "I wonder..." I said, for sometimes my email server mistakes real communication for spam.  

Sure enough, there it was, an email from Ellie.  And in the first two sentences, I was brimming with tears, which gradually turned to sobbing in gratitude and love by the end.  I won't tell you exactly what she told me -  but suffice to say that it started with a desire to hug me - and contained some of the most encouraging and uplifting affirmations I have heard in a very long time.  

I've already lost count of the number of times I've gone back to that email to read those incredible, supportive words, to feel that warm blanket of acceptance and kindness and trustworthiness enfolding me.  Ellie reached out to me across the miles, even though we've never met in person, to remind me of what is important -- and of what isn't. 

Her words made (and make) me feel ... heard.  Understood.  Even important, and not in an arrogant kind of way, but in the way every human being needs to feel valued.  Worthy.  Safe.  They gave me the courage to lean into, to make peace with, even to embrace, the truth of my birth family's rejection of me.  They gave me access to the Strength to do what I need to do - whatever that is - to accept "what is" ... and to move on.  They gave me enough wisdom to discern who are "those who matter" and who are "those who mind" - and enough security and whole-heartedness to embrace the former and to walk away from the latter.  As difficult as that is (and will be) it is also quite liberating.

I don't have to prove anything to anyone.  
I don't have to justify anything to anyone.  

I just need to look after what (and who) matters ... and leave the rest alone, because it's out of my hands.  If it was ever there in the first place, that is.

Putting me on

"You're putting me on."

No, I'm putting me on.

Some time ago, I heard someone make a required phone call to another person.  The tone was friendly, open, sincere, and would have put the other person completely at ease.  The caller obtained the required information easily, effortlessly.  I would have thought that they were old friends.  

What the other person didn't hear, though, was the tone of voice and the choice of words that came out of the caller's mouth as soon as the call ended and both parties hung up.  It conveyed disgust and contempt for the person who'd been at the other end.

Here's where I got this photo

I can't say anything in judgment.  I've done it - lots of times.  Sometimes we have to talk to people whose company we don't particularly care for - and we have to be civil to these people, for the sake of politeness or social norms.  Especially in situations like a businessman talking to a potential client, or a sales clerk talking to a customer. There's a mask of civility that we wear when we need to. We put it on - and when we're done, we take it off as soon as possible and confirm to ourselves that we didn't enjoy the experience.  I'm not so sure that it's wrong.  But I am sure that it's human.  

But when the other person is consistently crossing a boundary, belittling us or using us, it's time to take off that mask of geniality and let the other person know that he or she has crossed the line.  

For me, that's the time when, instead of putting a mask on, it's time to put ME on.  The real me. 

I've discovered something as I do this.  The more I put me on, the less I want to put on the mask.  I like the me that I'm becoming - and I don't want to be the doormat, the pushover I used to be, the one who strove for the least amount of splash upon entry, the one who hated making waves, the one who just wanted to disappear.  Putting on the mask becomes a distasteful task.  

Sometimes putting on that facade is necessary.  Sometimes.  But a repeated pattern of that kind of behavior can make me practiced in hypocrisy - I can so easily 'put it on' and 'take it off.'  It kind of scares - and almost sickens - me.  That's one reason I hesitate to engage in it.  I'd far rather be totally honest.  

When it bothers me the most is when I am in a situation where I believe that I am in a safe place - and all of a sudden I realize that I'm not - and that I need to put 'em on - let 'em think I'm behaving the way "they" want me to - so I can get away unscathed, unjudged.  Whoever "they" are.  Someone who calls himself my friend, for example.  Or perhaps at church.  Maybe even when visiting family.  Or at work.  

What a joy to realize when I really AM in a safe place, with trustworthy people, people who accept me for who I am and who don't judge.  There are a few such people in my life.  I appreciate their friendship - and their company - SO much!  

When I first started this new way of living and came across the expression, "rigorous honesty"... I thought that it meant with others.  It does - to a point.  But what I've come to understand is that it refers primarily to relationship with God, and with myself.  If I can't be truthful with myself, and with my Maker, I am SUNK.  The fact that I sometimes don't share EVERY little thing with someone else tells me that I'm learning who is trustworthy and who is not.  I can trust those that are trustworthy.  It's okay NOT to trust those that aren't, and learning who isn't trustworthy can only be done by trial and error. 

LOTS of error.

Of course, I try my best not to lie, even to those that I don't necessarily trust with my feelings.  I will answer truthfully, but ... briefly.  I've learned not to elaborate and give people ammunition to use against me later, even if they think that it's 'helping' by sharing something I've said in confidence.  

And I SO look forward to the times when I spend time with people I trust, so that I can put ME on.