I'm considering the division of household goods tonight. Looking around the house at all the things we've collected through the years. We've always collected antiques so these pieces have history way beyond our 20 years. The antique secretary is from the turn of the century. It has candle burn marks and ink stains on the fold-down desk surface. We found it in a garage sale "up north." Someone had started to refinish it and gave up after stripping the finish. We put pieces back together and carefully put on a new finish. Who has owned that piece before? What correspondence did he/she keep in the cubby holes? What was the family like? What joys and sadness did they have? I have my great grandmother's chocolate set. In the days when it was used, hot chocolate was a special occasion. It didn't come in packets to add to microwaved water. It was served in fancy bone china. My mother's grandmother didn't have an easy life. Her husband was a tyrant and they lived on a chicken farm. It's hard to imagine that hard man drinking from fine bone china cups!
I can look at these belongings and think, "They're just things. They're not important." These "things" hold history, though. In a sense they hold secrets of people's lives, their hope, dreams, and realities. A dough box sits in a corner of my living room. The women who've owned this, kneaded dough on it's top and placed the dough inside to rise. The sustenance of life, stored, grew and was protected in this box. The dough box was the center of family life, bread being a most important part of everyday meals. What stories does this box hold?
We have an old TV cabinet from the time when families gathered in front of the TV for those few special shows like Jack Benny. They were also a special occasion. Not a babysitter, but a family (and sometimes neighborhood) occasion. Now only the outer piece of furniture lives on in my entry hall. Caned door in the back to allow air flow... decorative veneers of different woods frame the front. What family gathered here? What memories did they make?
It's sad to think of dividing up our household, but it's meaningful to consider the history we have held and do hold. It's good to consider the connection we all have with those who have gone before us and hopefully those who will follow us. This is life! We make memories now with these things, that add to their history. The secretary now holds family games, hours of family fun. The dough box currently holds my Christmas village. The camel back trunk holds our family photos. What will our children use these items for in the future?
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Faith Revisited
It's time to write about the faith journey I've been on since I wrote about it last. Not sure I'm ready to write it yet. Seems odd that I hesitate when I usually write as I go through things. This faith journey has been so hard, though. I suppose it's just hard to put into words and it's a little like exposing too much of myself. But... it's time to write it. Perhaps it will help in some way.
I've been very depressed with doubting, questioning everything I've ever believed about God. Is God real? Does God work differently than I've been imagining? Am I just really pissed at God for not answering my prayers? I got totally frustrated, angry, and scared to death that I was losing a huge part of who I am in all this questioning. It's hard to question your whole belief system when it has been the largest part of who you are! A friend suggested in October that if I wasn't hearing from God in my prayers that maybe I needed to listen in another way. And so I put out a plea to my friends to share their faith stories with me... their doubts... their lives... why they believe. The most amazing thing happened. They answered me! They sent their stories of honest doubt. Most people won't do that. They shared the pain in their lives. They sent their hope and joys. They sent their stories of how they have experienced God and when they didn't feel God was there at all. I was surprised by their responses. They were not what I thought I'd hear. My friends were more honest than I imagined. My friends sent their love... that's what the stories were... their love. And in their love I started to have hope. I started to hear God.
Another amazing thing happened in this process. I was having very restless dreams. Each morning I'd wake tired from physically wrestling in my sleep. I know that one of my friends has studied for years about dreams, dream therapy, and theology of dreams. He came to my mind many times in this process of wrestling with god. I knew that I needed to go visit with him and his wife. I needed to talk with them. There are some other reasons for needing to be with them, but I can't post that info. Anyway, when I sent the plea through email to my group of friends, these two friends emailed immediately saying, "Come spend a few days with us. Come rant at God, talk with us, whatever you need to do." Wow! That was exactly what I needed! And so I made the journey. A long drive to and from their home, where I talked and they listened. I cried and they comforted. They taught me about myself and about these wild dreams. They nurtured me with food and lots of love. And so a bit more of my faith was restored.
Through this process I indeed have learned to listen for God in a new way. In the past, I would pray for God's guidance when it was work related, in a group setting. I heard God's answers through the words of other people. In my personal life, I prayed for God's guidance in private. Waited in silence. Now that silent prayer thing may work for you, but it just didn't work for me. What I've learned is that I need to listen to other people when I'm listening for God, even about my private life. I am an extreme extrovert. It makes sense that God will communicate with me through other people. Or maybe that's just the only way I can hear.
Through all of this I've had some friends who have walked the journey with me. They have loved me when I really was acting insane! They have let me rant and rave. They have kept in touch continually. They have been there when I just needed to know they cared. They have let me question, question, question. They have given their opinion when I've asked for it. Without them, I think I would have lost everything. They have been my safe harbor.
Anyway, my faith is coming back. It is not the same. I can't even explain how it is different. I guess I am more cynical, and still doubting a lot of things from my faith tradition. It's still all very fragile, this small bit of faith I have, but for now I am okay. For now I am not quite as angry at God. I know that part of my doubt comes from my experience of life not matching what I say I've believed through the years. At some point I hope to find consistency. It's still a journey.............
I've been very depressed with doubting, questioning everything I've ever believed about God. Is God real? Does God work differently than I've been imagining? Am I just really pissed at God for not answering my prayers? I got totally frustrated, angry, and scared to death that I was losing a huge part of who I am in all this questioning. It's hard to question your whole belief system when it has been the largest part of who you are! A friend suggested in October that if I wasn't hearing from God in my prayers that maybe I needed to listen in another way. And so I put out a plea to my friends to share their faith stories with me... their doubts... their lives... why they believe. The most amazing thing happened. They answered me! They sent their stories of honest doubt. Most people won't do that. They shared the pain in their lives. They sent their hope and joys. They sent their stories of how they have experienced God and when they didn't feel God was there at all. I was surprised by their responses. They were not what I thought I'd hear. My friends were more honest than I imagined. My friends sent their love... that's what the stories were... their love. And in their love I started to have hope. I started to hear God.
Another amazing thing happened in this process. I was having very restless dreams. Each morning I'd wake tired from physically wrestling in my sleep. I know that one of my friends has studied for years about dreams, dream therapy, and theology of dreams. He came to my mind many times in this process of wrestling with god. I knew that I needed to go visit with him and his wife. I needed to talk with them. There are some other reasons for needing to be with them, but I can't post that info. Anyway, when I sent the plea through email to my group of friends, these two friends emailed immediately saying, "Come spend a few days with us. Come rant at God, talk with us, whatever you need to do." Wow! That was exactly what I needed! And so I made the journey. A long drive to and from their home, where I talked and they listened. I cried and they comforted. They taught me about myself and about these wild dreams. They nurtured me with food and lots of love. And so a bit more of my faith was restored.
Through this process I indeed have learned to listen for God in a new way. In the past, I would pray for God's guidance when it was work related, in a group setting. I heard God's answers through the words of other people. In my personal life, I prayed for God's guidance in private. Waited in silence. Now that silent prayer thing may work for you, but it just didn't work for me. What I've learned is that I need to listen to other people when I'm listening for God, even about my private life. I am an extreme extrovert. It makes sense that God will communicate with me through other people. Or maybe that's just the only way I can hear.
Through all of this I've had some friends who have walked the journey with me. They have loved me when I really was acting insane! They have let me rant and rave. They have kept in touch continually. They have been there when I just needed to know they cared. They have let me question, question, question. They have given their opinion when I've asked for it. Without them, I think I would have lost everything. They have been my safe harbor.
Anyway, my faith is coming back. It is not the same. I can't even explain how it is different. I guess I am more cynical, and still doubting a lot of things from my faith tradition. It's still all very fragile, this small bit of faith I have, but for now I am okay. For now I am not quite as angry at God. I know that part of my doubt comes from my experience of life not matching what I say I've believed through the years. At some point I hope to find consistency. It's still a journey.............
Christmas with the family
Christmas has come and we're stretching out the traditions. It's been awhile since I've written. I feel a bit rusty. We've survived the "first Christmas," in separate households. It's made for an interesting time, but not nearly as stressful as Thanksgiving. So glad I decided not to try to have the almost ex together with us! I've been so busy with work up until the holiday, this is the latest I've ever been in preparing. Shopping up until the last minute... Decorating at the last minute. No baking done beforehand.
The kids were at their father's for Christmas Eve and Christmas morning. Again friends helped me keep my sanity. I spent Christmas Eve at church then went to some friends' house for a late dinner. Had a very enjoyable evening and came home late enough to go to bed and not think about the empty house. Woke up Christmas morning with the immediate need to wrap all the presents, so that kept me very occupied. Since I didn't have as many presents under the tree this year, I decided to wrap everything in coordinated wrap and bows. The rhythm of the wrapping and the care I took to choose the right wrap and make the right bow turned into a spiritual act of love for my children. I thought about each one of them and their special traits.
I thought about how the oldest thinks he wants to be grown up, and yet needs some extra nurturing for awhile. How he tries so hard to take care of his parents during this divorce and I need to help him not do that. He only has a little while before he is a true adult. He needs to be a kid for just a little longer. I think however that he is learning to be more sensitive with this divorce. Doesn't seem to be quite so self-serving. It's good that he's learning something from all this.
I thought about the middle one and how hard it is to be the middle child. He works way too hard at standing out. I worry that he is developing a drug problem. I'm not sure, but am giving an educated guess that he will need some serious intervention soon. And yet he's been in a good mood lately and not taking life as seriously as he has in the past. He works so hard at being unique, I pray that he will find himself soon. I pray that he finds a job soon, as I know that will boost his sense of worth.
I thought about the youngest. He's so fragile right now. He's also so fun. He irritates the heck out of me with his continual jabber about every little detail of events in his friends' lives. I have to work hard to make myself pay attention. I miss him. He's been with his father way more than with me lately and that really bothers me.
The kids arrived before I was ready. Their father brought them 2 hours early! Don't know his intention for that, but was very grateful to see the boys! We opened our presents one at a time to savor them and really enjoyed ourselves! I think we were all glad to be together. We all laughed and ooo'd and ah'd together. We joked we teased. It was good fun!
Have spent the last two days baking. Now some people would say that's crazy to start my baking after the holiday, but the baked goods are important to us. Since I always work so hard up until Christmas, the days following Christmas are spent really enjoying the holiday in whatever fashion that takes. One year we made the giant gingerbread house, complete with outhouse out back! This year it's been baking the traditional baked goods that mean it's holiday time. I'm so glad I don't worry about doing things on the exact date they are due. It's made the holiday enjoyable.
We tried to have Christmas dinner for 3 days in a row. Never did get all the kids together around the table! The oldest's work schedule has been hard to work around. Especially since he's failed to tell me what time he had to be there until it was too late. Oh well. Sometimes you have to let things go. I'll know how to plan better next year. This has been a year of learning. Relearning how special my children are to me. Learning how to love and be loved in unconventional ways, on a schedule that doesn't follow any rules. Learning how to appreciate what I can and not worry about the rest. Remembering that the holiday is about the spiritual and not worrying about cultural trappings. Realizing what good friends I have and how important they are to me. Learning that I need to let them know regularly what they mean to me.
Merry Christmas!
The kids were at their father's for Christmas Eve and Christmas morning. Again friends helped me keep my sanity. I spent Christmas Eve at church then went to some friends' house for a late dinner. Had a very enjoyable evening and came home late enough to go to bed and not think about the empty house. Woke up Christmas morning with the immediate need to wrap all the presents, so that kept me very occupied. Since I didn't have as many presents under the tree this year, I decided to wrap everything in coordinated wrap and bows. The rhythm of the wrapping and the care I took to choose the right wrap and make the right bow turned into a spiritual act of love for my children. I thought about each one of them and their special traits.
I thought about how the oldest thinks he wants to be grown up, and yet needs some extra nurturing for awhile. How he tries so hard to take care of his parents during this divorce and I need to help him not do that. He only has a little while before he is a true adult. He needs to be a kid for just a little longer. I think however that he is learning to be more sensitive with this divorce. Doesn't seem to be quite so self-serving. It's good that he's learning something from all this.
I thought about the middle one and how hard it is to be the middle child. He works way too hard at standing out. I worry that he is developing a drug problem. I'm not sure, but am giving an educated guess that he will need some serious intervention soon. And yet he's been in a good mood lately and not taking life as seriously as he has in the past. He works so hard at being unique, I pray that he will find himself soon. I pray that he finds a job soon, as I know that will boost his sense of worth.
I thought about the youngest. He's so fragile right now. He's also so fun. He irritates the heck out of me with his continual jabber about every little detail of events in his friends' lives. I have to work hard to make myself pay attention. I miss him. He's been with his father way more than with me lately and that really bothers me.
The kids arrived before I was ready. Their father brought them 2 hours early! Don't know his intention for that, but was very grateful to see the boys! We opened our presents one at a time to savor them and really enjoyed ourselves! I think we were all glad to be together. We all laughed and ooo'd and ah'd together. We joked we teased. It was good fun!
Have spent the last two days baking. Now some people would say that's crazy to start my baking after the holiday, but the baked goods are important to us. Since I always work so hard up until Christmas, the days following Christmas are spent really enjoying the holiday in whatever fashion that takes. One year we made the giant gingerbread house, complete with outhouse out back! This year it's been baking the traditional baked goods that mean it's holiday time. I'm so glad I don't worry about doing things on the exact date they are due. It's made the holiday enjoyable.
We tried to have Christmas dinner for 3 days in a row. Never did get all the kids together around the table! The oldest's work schedule has been hard to work around. Especially since he's failed to tell me what time he had to be there until it was too late. Oh well. Sometimes you have to let things go. I'll know how to plan better next year. This has been a year of learning. Relearning how special my children are to me. Learning how to love and be loved in unconventional ways, on a schedule that doesn't follow any rules. Learning how to appreciate what I can and not worry about the rest. Remembering that the holiday is about the spiritual and not worrying about cultural trappings. Realizing what good friends I have and how important they are to me. Learning that I need to let them know regularly what they mean to me.
Merry Christmas!
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Friends
Been hearing from a lot of friends since I "sent up a flair" for some help dealing with this faith crisis. It's great to hear from them and hear some of their stories. It means a lot to me that they care enough to be brave and share their faith experiences. One of my friends wrote that he thinks it's all about relationships. It's all about community. We couldn't get through life without a community of people around us. I agree. Going through hell is one thing. Going through hell with no one, is the worst. I'm so glad to have friends helping me through this! It makes life bearable. One of the great things I'm learning from them is that just about everyone goes through times of extreme doubt. These friends have gone through that and come out in one piece. It's good to know that. It gives me some hope. I'm so glad I have them in my life.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Hope
Please don't freak out about what I'm writing. I'm not going to "do anything stupid." I'm just processing. I think the sadness that has crept into my soul today has to do with loss of hope. When I worked in a psychiatric unit of a hospital, we talked a lot about hope. Most of the people who were in there for depression had lost hope for their future. I guess that's why I'm recognizing that today. I've lost hope for my future. Let's face it, when the two main reasons for your being are living for God and loving your family, and then you discover you don't have faith and your family is a mess, what the hell do you hope for/in? What the hell do you live for? Why get up in the morning? Why do anything? Why go to a job that seems pointless? How do you live without living for God? What's the point? I don't really understand how people get through life without God and the church. What's the reason for being? Now I'm facing what they face. And I only know one person who lives outside the God/church circle. (Not that God and church are equal, just that in my life they go together.) So now what? Been asking my church friends to talk to me about their faith. As you've seen. Only two answered my query in my blog. One more did privately. Few know what to say to a Christian who's lost faith. Few aren't threatened by questions about the core of their lives. Few Christians can actually talk about their deepest beliefs, actually put them into words.
And what do you do about Christmas? Here's one of the biggest Christian holidays of the year! Also the biggest family holiday of the year! What the hell do I do about Christmas? Another "1st" without the husband. yahoo! If it's anything like Thanksgiving, I just want to stay in bed. Damn! I need a pastor. Only most pastor's are the worst at dealing with non-believers or questioning believers. They get defensive. Believe me, I know. Or else they get this smug look and say, "I know. I've had times of doubt." Well congratulations! How the hell does that help me?
So now what? Hang out at Starbucks, asking people what/why they think/believe? Hang out in bars and do the same?
All I know is that I'm tired and lost, and I desparately need something to live/hope for. I know that I have to keep putting one foot in front of the other or the jerk will raise my children, and that would ruin them. I'd say that my children are enough to hope in/for, but then I'm the parent of teenagers. Need I say more?
And what do you do about Christmas? Here's one of the biggest Christian holidays of the year! Also the biggest family holiday of the year! What the hell do I do about Christmas? Another "1st" without the husband. yahoo! If it's anything like Thanksgiving, I just want to stay in bed. Damn! I need a pastor. Only most pastor's are the worst at dealing with non-believers or questioning believers. They get defensive. Believe me, I know. Or else they get this smug look and say, "I know. I've had times of doubt." Well congratulations! How the hell does that help me?
So now what? Hang out at Starbucks, asking people what/why they think/believe? Hang out in bars and do the same?
All I know is that I'm tired and lost, and I desparately need something to live/hope for. I know that I have to keep putting one foot in front of the other or the jerk will raise my children, and that would ruin them. I'd say that my children are enough to hope in/for, but then I'm the parent of teenagers. Need I say more?
Sadness
The sadness of my life crept into my soul again today. I didn't hear it or see it coming...again. You'd think I'd learn to look over my shoulder. Of course I kind of was this morning and wondered why I wasn't sad then. Now it has come to keep me company. I keep thinking, "If I could just get off my ass and accomplish something, I'd feel better." And then I sit... and think... and cry. Damn! It takes every ounce of energy just to exist. A woman I know said today that she doesn't go to movies anymore since her husband died because she gets cold. She can't sit through a movie without an arm around her shoulder. What a sweet image I have of them together in the theater. And I think, "I never had that. I want that! Someone who cares enough to snuggle in a movie! And maybe I won't ever have it." Life is just too hard sometimes.
Failed Again
Well I'm sitting at my desk, at the same time I'm supposed to be in arbitration. What does that tell you? He showed up this time. He just started flinging mud immediately. It's kind of odd. I felt like I was an outsider, just watching this man implode. He's broke. He can't take the kids because he can't pay the rent and keep food on the table. Did I feel sorry for him? No. Did I want to help him? No. How can I have any compassion for a man who only shoots darts at me? How can I care that he's broke when he wants to go spend hundreds on bed frames with no mattresses, when he could go buy cheap frames and spend the money on mattresses? What an idiot! As I watched him, I realized that all the uproar which he causes now is just a magnification of what he's done for years. There always has to be a crisis. There always has to be inconsistancy. He won't have a schedule. He won't have a spending plan. He won't care for his children by providing a consistant presence or structure. Reconfirmation that I'm doing the right thing. Now if I can just figure out how to proceed.
I walked out of the counselor's office. Told her I just couldn't continue the conversation. Told her that every conversation with him goes this way. It's time to use the attorney and quit trying to work with him. Of course now he'll say that I sabotaged the arbitration. I actually gave him exactly what he wanted: no arbitration. Maybe I should have stayed. I don't think so, though. The last time we negotiated a temporary custody agreement, he didn't follow it at all. So why waste my time and money attempting to do what won't happen? As I walked out, all I kept thinking was that he wouldn't work with me if I stayed anyway, so why put up with the bull shit throwing?
I walked out of the counselor's office. Told her I just couldn't continue the conversation. Told her that every conversation with him goes this way. It's time to use the attorney and quit trying to work with him. Of course now he'll say that I sabotaged the arbitration. I actually gave him exactly what he wanted: no arbitration. Maybe I should have stayed. I don't think so, though. The last time we negotiated a temporary custody agreement, he didn't follow it at all. So why waste my time and money attempting to do what won't happen? As I walked out, all I kept thinking was that he wouldn't work with me if I stayed anyway, so why put up with the bull shit throwing?
So now I'm at work, and a group of ladies who love to gossip, and don't particularly care for me are here. What a blessing! What a Monday morning!
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Kissing
I know this title sounds totally weird for me. But that's life. that's who/where I am right now. I've been thinking about what you can tell about a man by how he kisses. Perhaps if I'd paid attention to kisses a long time ago, I wouldn't be where I am now. Perhaps if I pay attention to kisses in the future, (If I ever get that luxury again.) I won't make the same mistakes again. There are many different kinds of kissers in this world. There are men who stand straight, with their heads straight. When you approach them, you have to turn your head. They do not move to meet you half way. This kind of kisser will wear you out. You're the one who is always accommodating. There's no giving up his agenda. Then there's the man who opens his mouth and presents a gaping hole for you to stick your tongue in. These men do the same as the stick straight guys. They give you nothing to work with. there's no greeting your tongue with theirs. There's no movement of the lips to welcome yours. These men just fill space. They don't know how to give. They don't pay attention to you or change their lives to give to you. Your purpose in their lives is to take care of them. Then there are the men who know how to kiss. They turn their head half way to meet you. they make love to your lips with their lips. they know how to play with your tongue with theirs. I wonder if you could use the old concept of, "All I ever needed to know I learned in kindergarten." or whatever that book is. It's basic sharing, giving and taking turns. Haven't kissed too many guys like this. Maybe that's the problem with my life. The ones who know how to give and take are, as they say, "gay or married." Of course if I ask my married women friends what their husbands kiss like, I will probably find they aren't too satisfied. I've heard the "girl talk." I'm evidently not missing much. You guys maybe need to take some lessons. Too bad there isn't a "Kissing 101" course out their. Of course I haven't been on the other end of this. Maybe you guys think that we women need some lessons, too. Who knows? Maybe I'm a lousy kisser. All I can say it that I'm going to use kissing as a gauge for future reference. At least, if I ever get another chance. Dating! What a strange concept after all these years!
One more time
Attempting to go to arbitration tomorrow morning. That's where my almost ex and I get to try to agree on our divorce settlement. He of course "forgot," until I reminded him tonight. Maybe he'll show up. Maybe he won't. It's a strange thing to consider, this settling of accounts, so to speak. Another step toward the end that I want. Another step toward the end that I regret. Mixed feelings seem to be my main mode of functioning these days. It's hard to end 20 years of trying, even though the relationship ended a while ago. It's hard to say, "It's over. I've failed. I tried but I failed. It's time to move on." The preacher today spoke about doing hard things just because God tells us to do them. I kept wondering, "Is this what God wants me to do?" And I had to answer, "Yes." There's a difference, though, between doing God's bidding and doing the lesser of two evils. I think this is a case of "doing the lesser of two evils." It would be great if I felt that God was calling me into something new. Instead it's just leaving something behind. Leaving a part of me, a part of my life in the past. Where am I going? I have no clue. I only know from where I come. Maybe that's enough for now. Maybe not.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Worrying about friends
Isn't it amazing when you're feeling down that it feels like no one cares? And yet when a friend is hurting, all you can think about is how he/she is doing. I hope I remember this night when I am feeling alone.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Birthday blessings
My son has a birthday today. This is a son who's had some major difficulties with his emotions. We've been through hell and back with him, and are never quite sure if we'll be reentering hell at any moment. I've invited his father to eat birthday dinner with us. We have the tradition of saying "eyes open" grace before meals, so we're holding hands and looking at each other. X says as he looks at E, "Thank you God for E living to be 16, and hope he lives another year." I'm thinking what a terrible blessing! So I chime in, "Yea God for E! Thanks for bringing him into our lives. Help him to have a really happy year." And my youngest says, "And help him to not get shot." "What did you say that for?" "Because Dad said he was glad he lived this long and hopes he lives another year." "would you please stop talking about death when we're celebrating E's life?" E responds, "Mom, you're being ridiculous."
What the h#** kind of father says something like that to his son??? I come from the faith tradition that the father is supposed to offer a blessing to the sons. It's supposed to be a "blessing!" Not a stupid, "so glad you survived!" And you know if his tone had actually sounded like he was glad, it might have been a celebratory thing to say. No... Even then, it would be inappropriate at the dinner table with a friend and the whole family!
I am amazed and angry that he would be so thoughtlessly mean. And to think that my son accuses me of being ridiculous! God save us all!
What the h#** kind of father says something like that to his son??? I come from the faith tradition that the father is supposed to offer a blessing to the sons. It's supposed to be a "blessing!" Not a stupid, "so glad you survived!" And you know if his tone had actually sounded like he was glad, it might have been a celebratory thing to say. No... Even then, it would be inappropriate at the dinner table with a friend and the whole family!
I am amazed and angry that he would be so thoughtlessly mean. And to think that my son accuses me of being ridiculous! God save us all!
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Need your faith stories
When I went to church today, all sorts of things went wrong. It was like something strange was in the air, infecting everyone. I won't go into details, but let me say that with all my questioning of God's existence, I saw God at work. Some amazing things happened! I think God inspired a whole lot of people to do some profound ministry! There in lies my dilemma. Why do I see God at work in the church (sometimes), but not in my personal life? Why do I feel inspired when I need to teach something, but hear nothing when I'm praying for guidance in my personal life?
Here's what I need from you, if you don't mind. Send me your faith stories. Don't tell me some theological jargon about what people should and shouldn't believe. Tell me your experience of God. Do you feel that God guides you? Do you feel that God is absent from personal involvement? What do you experience, and from your experience, what do you believe? If you'll put these in the "comments,"that would really be helpful to me and to others. I don't give this address out to people so there are few of you to comment, but if you would I would be eternally grateful!!!
Here's what I need from you, if you don't mind. Send me your faith stories. Don't tell me some theological jargon about what people should and shouldn't believe. Tell me your experience of God. Do you feel that God guides you? Do you feel that God is absent from personal involvement? What do you experience, and from your experience, what do you believe? If you'll put these in the "comments,"that would really be helpful to me and to others. I don't give this address out to people so there are few of you to comment, but if you would I would be eternally grateful!!!
Saturday, November 8, 2008
I never knew his name
Another story from G-town.
If you drive along the highway leading into town you just might see him. He's really pretty scary looking. Like an ancient man, stepping through time. A long coat that hung down almost to the ankles, an old canvas bag hung over his back. Black boots, old and worn stick out below the hem of his pants and coat. Long black curly hair that doesn't appear to be ever combed or cut, although it doesn't appear to be very dirty. A beard as long and unkept as the head, hangs to the stomach. And across his shoulder is his rifle. The first time I saw him, I was quite intimidated. But then I began to notice him regularly walking along the road to town.
Once a week? Or once a month? I can't remember how often, he hiked down the highway about 5 miles into town. This was one of our most famous "hermits." He lived somewhere out on the mountains, in an old shack, is what I heard. He'd hike to town, buy some supplies, and hike back home. I never heard him speak. Never encountered him in the stores, just saw him walking to and from. He was just there. A part of the fabric of G-town. More of a picture than a resident.
Yet he was part of us. In a rugged lumber town, he was respected for being, "rugged." In G-town you won points with the population based on your ruggedness. I knew an 85 year old woman who lived without electric or water for a week after a storm and never told anyone. These were some tough people!
Anyway, I never knew this hermit's name. Never saw him up close. Just watched him hike into and out of town.
One day the fire department got a call to his house. It had completely burned down with the hermit in it. I always wonder about him, and think, "One day he was someone's baby." One day, I hope he was loved, but doubt it. What makes a man want to hide from everyone? What happens to someone between being born and becomng a hermit? Another unravelling of the fabric of G-town.
If you drive along the highway leading into town you just might see him. He's really pretty scary looking. Like an ancient man, stepping through time. A long coat that hung down almost to the ankles, an old canvas bag hung over his back. Black boots, old and worn stick out below the hem of his pants and coat. Long black curly hair that doesn't appear to be ever combed or cut, although it doesn't appear to be very dirty. A beard as long and unkept as the head, hangs to the stomach. And across his shoulder is his rifle. The first time I saw him, I was quite intimidated. But then I began to notice him regularly walking along the road to town.
Once a week? Or once a month? I can't remember how often, he hiked down the highway about 5 miles into town. This was one of our most famous "hermits." He lived somewhere out on the mountains, in an old shack, is what I heard. He'd hike to town, buy some supplies, and hike back home. I never heard him speak. Never encountered him in the stores, just saw him walking to and from. He was just there. A part of the fabric of G-town. More of a picture than a resident.
Yet he was part of us. In a rugged lumber town, he was respected for being, "rugged." In G-town you won points with the population based on your ruggedness. I knew an 85 year old woman who lived without electric or water for a week after a storm and never told anyone. These were some tough people!
Anyway, I never knew this hermit's name. Never saw him up close. Just watched him hike into and out of town.
One day the fire department got a call to his house. It had completely burned down with the hermit in it. I always wonder about him, and think, "One day he was someone's baby." One day, I hope he was loved, but doubt it. What makes a man want to hide from everyone? What happens to someone between being born and becomng a hermit? Another unravelling of the fabric of G-town.
When expectations don't match reality
You know that saying, "Insanity is repeating the same thing over and over and expecting a different result?" By that definition I guess you could call what I was doing in my marriage, in my faith and probably a lot of other areas, "insane." I hate to admit that. What I'm learning is that I haven't wanted to keep repeating ineffective habits. I just didn't know what else to do. The truth is, my expectations of life didn't match reality. My senses gave me information which was contrary to my expectations. Instead of seeing this conflicting information, I kept trying to impose my expectations on the world. I didn't/don't allow my experience of the world to inform my decisions. A simple and painful example of this was when I was assaulted on a job interview. My brain just couldn't accept the reality of the situation. "Interviewers don't do this. Interviewers who are members of my church don't do this! It can't be happening!" My brain kept screaming. And so I froze. I coudn't accept reality, and therefore denied it, so I wasn't able to respond.
Flash forward many years and I find myself in the same situation, having repeated the same process throughout my marriage. Don Miguel Ruiz says in The Four Agreements that we have been "domesticated," with rules for our lives since birth, and those rules create a false dream world. What we do is based on that dream world, rather than the real world. He believes that most people live in their own dream world. How others treat us has nothing to do with us. It has to do with their own dream world.
In my marriage, I lived in a dream world which did not match the reality of my husband's and my relationship. Instead of responding to what was really happening, I kept trying to make my marriage into what my dream world expected. I couldn't see reality, only my dream. I therefore kept trying to make my life into the dream. I kept thinking, "If I just do this.. it will be better." "I shouldnt expect so much from my spouse. You can't expect your spouse to change." "Marriage is hard. You just have to keep trying harder." And so I kept trying to be satisfied with what I had. Blamed myself with my dissatisfaction. Kept trying harder and harder to be "the good wife." The thing is, I could never try hard enough. I could not ever be happy. I kept beating myself up with guilt for not being who I dreamed I was supposed to be in order to live in the dream of my marriage. In the end, I regret those years. I regret my blindness. I regret beating myself and my husband up (not literally!) for not fitting the dream. Meanwhile he kept living his own dream which didn't match mine, and never will. He was frustrated with me and I was frustrated with him. All because we couldn't see reality. I'm still not seeing clearly, but am at least aware that I am not. As I look on it now, I see that if I could have seen reality, I could have made other choices. Perhaps I would have ended my marriage sooner. There were probably many other options that I never thought of, because I couldn't see clearly. I kept thinking there were only two options. Divorce and be a miserable single mom, or stay in a most unfulfilling marriage.
I heard Jimmy Carter talk about peace negotiations with the Carter Center (I forget the official name, now). He said that most people think there are only two choices. "Either I get my way or you get your way." Carter said that he works to find a way where everyone gets what they need. It doesn't have to be. "My way or your way." And when we think of compromise, we usually think that means both people don't get what they want. Real compromise is when both people win, both get what they need.
So where does that leave me now? I have regrets, but I'm trying to "see clearly." I'm trying to move forward and make choices based on reality, not my rule imposed dream world. I keep making mistakes, but at least I'm learning from them. It looks like it will take a long time to learn to "see clearly," and make good choices, but I am determined. I am grateful that I have made some choices and taken some actions to change my life for the better.
Flash forward many years and I find myself in the same situation, having repeated the same process throughout my marriage. Don Miguel Ruiz says in The Four Agreements that we have been "domesticated," with rules for our lives since birth, and those rules create a false dream world. What we do is based on that dream world, rather than the real world. He believes that most people live in their own dream world. How others treat us has nothing to do with us. It has to do with their own dream world.
In my marriage, I lived in a dream world which did not match the reality of my husband's and my relationship. Instead of responding to what was really happening, I kept trying to make my marriage into what my dream world expected. I couldn't see reality, only my dream. I therefore kept trying to make my life into the dream. I kept thinking, "If I just do this.. it will be better." "I shouldnt expect so much from my spouse. You can't expect your spouse to change." "Marriage is hard. You just have to keep trying harder." And so I kept trying to be satisfied with what I had. Blamed myself with my dissatisfaction. Kept trying harder and harder to be "the good wife." The thing is, I could never try hard enough. I could not ever be happy. I kept beating myself up with guilt for not being who I dreamed I was supposed to be in order to live in the dream of my marriage. In the end, I regret those years. I regret my blindness. I regret beating myself and my husband up (not literally!) for not fitting the dream. Meanwhile he kept living his own dream which didn't match mine, and never will. He was frustrated with me and I was frustrated with him. All because we couldn't see reality. I'm still not seeing clearly, but am at least aware that I am not. As I look on it now, I see that if I could have seen reality, I could have made other choices. Perhaps I would have ended my marriage sooner. There were probably many other options that I never thought of, because I couldn't see clearly. I kept thinking there were only two options. Divorce and be a miserable single mom, or stay in a most unfulfilling marriage.
I heard Jimmy Carter talk about peace negotiations with the Carter Center (I forget the official name, now). He said that most people think there are only two choices. "Either I get my way or you get your way." Carter said that he works to find a way where everyone gets what they need. It doesn't have to be. "My way or your way." And when we think of compromise, we usually think that means both people don't get what they want. Real compromise is when both people win, both get what they need.
So where does that leave me now? I have regrets, but I'm trying to "see clearly." I'm trying to move forward and make choices based on reality, not my rule imposed dream world. I keep making mistakes, but at least I'm learning from them. It looks like it will take a long time to learn to "see clearly," and make good choices, but I am determined. I am grateful that I have made some choices and taken some actions to change my life for the better.
Dave
Another story from G-town
G-town was in one of those remote areas where people migrate to escape from people. You can live up on the mountain, and no one bothers you. There is a strong belief that everyone who lives there has a right to live the way they want, and no one else has the right to tell them how to live.
Dave lived somewhere up on a mountain near town. I never knew where exactly. Dave was a transplant from a town in New York. His claim to fame was that he was a playwright, although not one that you would have heard of. I don't know if he ever wrote anything that was actually performed. He considered himself a bit of a celebrity in town, however. Hung out at the new gas station/restaurant, talking louder than anyone else about his exploits as a playwright. One day a friend of mine introduced me when I saw her there having coffee. Susie was a chain smoker, and she and her husband would sit for hours in the gas station/restaurant, drinking coffee, chain smoking, and talking to whomever walked in. In a small town, you know everyone who walks in, if you've lived there long enough.
Dave, it seemed, had an eye for women. He decided that I was worth flirting with, so he proceeded to tell me his life story in grand form. Lots of innuendos about affairs and parties to see if I'd react strongly. It seemed to me that from that first meeting on, Dave was always at the gas station/restaurant whenever I stopped in. I was beginning to think he lived there. Perhaps he did for awhile. He always guilted me into sitting down for a visit. (Why did I fall for such guilt trips?) Eventually, I heard through some other people that Dave had a reputation for finding various ways to attract attention from the women. One day the meter reader came to his house, and her greeted here naked! That's the story that's told, anyway.
Dave was fascinated by Susan's and my involvement in the church. And he was most interested in flirting with me. I could swear he sat all day in the restaurant, just waiting to flirt with me. This was a 300 lb, older man, who always wore his shirts unbuttoned half way to his navel, and his clothes looked like they hadn't been washed in weeks! He was so sure he was sexy, and I could think of nothing more repulsive! So what did I do? I invited him to church!
Sure enough, one day Dave shows up for church... at the end of worship. He saunters into the sanctuary at 11:40 (worship started at 11:00), he walks to a pew down front, and throws himself into it with a loud creak and a sigh! This 300 lb man makes a big noise when he throws himself into a 100 year old pew! The whole congregation froze, like they had seen a ghost. They didn't know how to react! How do you react when the man who brags about his various affairs and drunken orgies shows up in worship? What do you do? Ask him to leave? Of course not. Welcome him? Of course. He not only came once, but several Sundays in a row! When do you ask him to arrive at 11 a.m., when worship starts? When do you ask him not to be so disruptive because he wants to flirt with a person in the church? When does he finally get the idea that you're not interested? It was very interesting in this small congregation of 35 attendees, watching the interaction between me and Dave. No one wanted to be rude, of course. It must have been the topic of all the gossip in town for months!
Finally, I grew braver than I had been for a long time. After worship, I walked up to Dave and said with a big old smile, "We're so glad you've come to church again!... You know it would be really helpful if you'd come somewhere around 11 when worship starts, and not make this much of a disruption when you arrive." "What do you mean?" he asks. "I mean, please don't make so much noise when you come in. It disrupts worship." Of course that was the last day that Dave was in worship. I heard he ran out of money from his one and only sale of a play, and had to move "downstate." All I know is that he quit sitting in the gas station/restaurant and he quit coming to worship. I never saw him around town, so he must have moved. Do I regret confronting him? Not really. Did I miss him? Not really. Many months after he was gone, though, I realized he was part of the fabric of G-town. He made life interesting. Then I did miss him.
G-town was in one of those remote areas where people migrate to escape from people. You can live up on the mountain, and no one bothers you. There is a strong belief that everyone who lives there has a right to live the way they want, and no one else has the right to tell them how to live.
Dave lived somewhere up on a mountain near town. I never knew where exactly. Dave was a transplant from a town in New York. His claim to fame was that he was a playwright, although not one that you would have heard of. I don't know if he ever wrote anything that was actually performed. He considered himself a bit of a celebrity in town, however. Hung out at the new gas station/restaurant, talking louder than anyone else about his exploits as a playwright. One day a friend of mine introduced me when I saw her there having coffee. Susie was a chain smoker, and she and her husband would sit for hours in the gas station/restaurant, drinking coffee, chain smoking, and talking to whomever walked in. In a small town, you know everyone who walks in, if you've lived there long enough.
Dave, it seemed, had an eye for women. He decided that I was worth flirting with, so he proceeded to tell me his life story in grand form. Lots of innuendos about affairs and parties to see if I'd react strongly. It seemed to me that from that first meeting on, Dave was always at the gas station/restaurant whenever I stopped in. I was beginning to think he lived there. Perhaps he did for awhile. He always guilted me into sitting down for a visit. (Why did I fall for such guilt trips?) Eventually, I heard through some other people that Dave had a reputation for finding various ways to attract attention from the women. One day the meter reader came to his house, and her greeted here naked! That's the story that's told, anyway.
Dave was fascinated by Susan's and my involvement in the church. And he was most interested in flirting with me. I could swear he sat all day in the restaurant, just waiting to flirt with me. This was a 300 lb, older man, who always wore his shirts unbuttoned half way to his navel, and his clothes looked like they hadn't been washed in weeks! He was so sure he was sexy, and I could think of nothing more repulsive! So what did I do? I invited him to church!
Sure enough, one day Dave shows up for church... at the end of worship. He saunters into the sanctuary at 11:40 (worship started at 11:00), he walks to a pew down front, and throws himself into it with a loud creak and a sigh! This 300 lb man makes a big noise when he throws himself into a 100 year old pew! The whole congregation froze, like they had seen a ghost. They didn't know how to react! How do you react when the man who brags about his various affairs and drunken orgies shows up in worship? What do you do? Ask him to leave? Of course not. Welcome him? Of course. He not only came once, but several Sundays in a row! When do you ask him to arrive at 11 a.m., when worship starts? When do you ask him not to be so disruptive because he wants to flirt with a person in the church? When does he finally get the idea that you're not interested? It was very interesting in this small congregation of 35 attendees, watching the interaction between me and Dave. No one wanted to be rude, of course. It must have been the topic of all the gossip in town for months!
Finally, I grew braver than I had been for a long time. After worship, I walked up to Dave and said with a big old smile, "We're so glad you've come to church again!... You know it would be really helpful if you'd come somewhere around 11 when worship starts, and not make this much of a disruption when you arrive." "What do you mean?" he asks. "I mean, please don't make so much noise when you come in. It disrupts worship." Of course that was the last day that Dave was in worship. I heard he ran out of money from his one and only sale of a play, and had to move "downstate." All I know is that he quit sitting in the gas station/restaurant and he quit coming to worship. I never saw him around town, so he must have moved. Do I regret confronting him? Not really. Did I miss him? Not really. Many months after he was gone, though, I realized he was part of the fabric of G-town. He made life interesting. Then I did miss him.
Friday, November 7, 2008
It's a beautiful day
What a great day! The sun is bright and the temperature cool! What a great day for a walk in the park, or a road trip to nowhere! I'm storing this day in my memory for future winter ones, or perhaps I'll take it out and use it when the sun beats down and it's over 90. What a glorious day! My soul automatically says, "Thank you, God." Then I'm reminded that I'm not sure who to thank and that makes me sad. Oh well. It's too beautiful of a day to worry about the big questions. It's the perfect day to just "be!" I think I'll go lie in the hammock, enjoy the sun, and appreciate the life that is ours together on this earth.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
A hole in my soul
I'm still playing with this, so bear with me.
There's a hole in my soul...
where love and intimacy are supposed to live.
A broken sign dangles from one end on the proverbial rusty chain,
"Danger - Abandoned Building."
There's a "black hole" in my soul
where love and intimacy are supposed to overflow.
You can't fill it.
God won't fill it.
All my joy was sucked in...
and disappeared.
There's a hole in my sole...
where love and intimacy are supposed to roam.
Raw skin oozes from the underside of blisters,
worn by too many unprotected miles.
There's a hole that aches in my soul.
A hole that I didn't know existed...
like one of those abandoned coal mine tunnels,
winding around empty, under a town.
The street above looks quite normal with homes, yards and lives.
A family lived in one of those homes... until recently.
They worked and played and seemed to love each other there.
The lilacs and roses bloomed in the side yard,
the dog chased a Frisbee up the back hill.
One day the supports of that mine tunnel gave way.
the gaping hole beneath the home facade opened up to swallow their mirage.
The bedrock of love didn't exist.
There's a hole that aches in my soul.
There's a hole in my soul...
where love and intimacy are supposed to live.
A broken sign dangles from one end on the proverbial rusty chain,
"Danger - Abandoned Building."
There's a "black hole" in my soul
where love and intimacy are supposed to overflow.
You can't fill it.
God won't fill it.
All my joy was sucked in...
and disappeared.
There's a hole in my sole...
where love and intimacy are supposed to roam.
Raw skin oozes from the underside of blisters,
worn by too many unprotected miles.
There's a hole that aches in my soul.
A hole that I didn't know existed...
like one of those abandoned coal mine tunnels,
winding around empty, under a town.
The street above looks quite normal with homes, yards and lives.
A family lived in one of those homes... until recently.
They worked and played and seemed to love each other there.
The lilacs and roses bloomed in the side yard,
the dog chased a Frisbee up the back hill.
One day the supports of that mine tunnel gave way.
the gaping hole beneath the home facade opened up to swallow their mirage.
The bedrock of love didn't exist.
There's a hole that aches in my soul.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Election night
It's an exciting night in the US! I'm thrilled that Obama is doing so well! Yea!!! We're going to have an intelligent person leading our nation again! A democrat in the presidency again! A brown man in the white house! It's about time! Sometimes I think Americans are pretty intelligent, but then on election years the general public terrifies me. There are so many paranoid rumors flying around because too many people are stupid enough to believe them. We have yet to have a person of color or a woman in the white house while countries with terrible human rights records for women have had women presidents. Most of the world is not white, and yet we have managed to maintain white control. In our last election we decided to elect a total *%% because he smiles so nicely and calls himself a Christian, even though nothing he does represents Jesus' view point. What is wrong with us that we cling to ignorance and paranoia, rather than seeking knowledge and truth? At least tonight it looks like we can celebrate that intelligence is winning!
As I write this, I'm also tired of the commentaries on every burp in the process. It'll be nice to hear the summary.
As I write this, I'm also tired of the commentaries on every burp in the process. It'll be nice to hear the summary.
Monday, November 3, 2008
The Dance
Went dancing last week. I've been thinking about, and reliving that ever since. What is it about dancing that is so wonderful? What's not to like? (Unless you don't like your partner) I had the joy of dancing with men I care about so it was wonderful to be close, snuggling in to the body of another, becoming part of him. I love moving in unison with another, striving to move as one. It's interesting that in intercourse, we gain excitement by moving in opposition. In dancing, the whole goal is to move together. A friend of mine from years ago, who also was an amazing dancer, said that the man's role in dancing is to show off his partner. No matter how good or bad his partner is, the man's role is to show the beauty of his partner. I think dancing is learning to read another's mind, move with another body, with another soul... seeking to read the slightest movement and respond in flowing, flawless unison. Dancing is being with another person so much that you can anticipate what your partner's next move will be. It's experiencing the magic of human touch, the seduction of unison movement. At this point in my life, those moments of dance are like a "slice of heaven."
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Children
My children are still angry because I made their father move out. They are eager to forgive his horrible treatment of them for years. They do not understand that half of my reason for making their father leave was to protect them. I hope that soon they will forgive me for trying to protect them. Somehow, I think they will.
Trusting the tradition
After spending last week on retreat with a group of people of faith, and after worship today, I am sorting through what it means to just trust the tradition and rely on the faith of others. Last week we shared communion around the dinner table. I closed my eyes and just listened as over and over, various voices said, "The body of Christ, given for you." "The bread of heaven." "The cup of salvation." "The blood of Christ, shed for you." As I recall the voices, I feel the presence of those loved ones passing the bread and cup, and offering Christ to each other. Do I dare say that I feel the presence of God? Maybe. Maybe not. But I feel something real, something strong... faith in God that I don't have... love for God that I don't have. I am steeped in a tradition that does not blow with my moods, or my doubt. It carries on. And maybe it carries me along with it. What a blessing to hear from my loved ones, "It's okay. I've been where you are. We'll believe for you. " I keep trying to sort out my beliefs as I experience life, and right now, what I have believed isn't matching my experience. But maybe that is okay for now because I have a rich tradition and people who love God and me.
Today in worship, we celebrated an anniversary of the church. As I listened to the bagpipe, the trumpet and the voices of faith, I thought. "We have a heritage that isn't threatened by my individual doubt. We have centuries of people struggling to understand God in light of the life they experience. We have centuries of people putting their struggles and their faith into words. Words of prayers, words of songs, words of affirmation." I will continue my faith struggle, but for now I am comforted that my struggle is within my tradition. And that tradition is stronger than I. For this I am grateful.
Today in worship, we celebrated an anniversary of the church. As I listened to the bagpipe, the trumpet and the voices of faith, I thought. "We have a heritage that isn't threatened by my individual doubt. We have centuries of people struggling to understand God in light of the life they experience. We have centuries of people putting their struggles and their faith into words. Words of prayers, words of songs, words of affirmation." I will continue my faith struggle, but for now I am comforted that my struggle is within my tradition. And that tradition is stronger than I. For this I am grateful.
The love of good friends
I spent a week with friends, and it was so refreshing. These are the kind of friends with whom you can be real. You can say what you think and feel. You can be honest about who you are, and they will still love you…I think. That’s the problem with unconditional love, it seems so untrustworthy. Who gives unconditional love? Who gets unconditional love? In our world, that honestly doesn’t totally happen. Even with family. There’s a part of us that says, “I’ll love him/her no matter what.” But we all have limits. In the back of our minds there’s always a condition. For me, my conditions aren’t based on what a person does morally, but who a person is, personality-wise. This group is funny. They’ve been together for almost 30 years, so they are sure of their love for the other old-timers. But what about us newer members? And what about the fact that there are certain people in the group who annoy the hell out of me? I haven’t known them long enough or liked them enough to love them unconditionally. You know, I’ve always believed I could love people unconditionally, but there are certain conditions that have to be there for me to care enough about a person to love them unconditionally. For instance, there’s a person in this group who annoys me to death. He dominates every conversation and you can’t get a word in. He doesn’t ever listen to anybody else, just talks incessantly every time I’ve been in an unstructured conversation. I can’t love him unconditionally. And so when they tell me that the group loves unconditionally, I have to question that. For one thing there are only certain people that are allowed in the group. So what happens if I do something that would be on the elimination list of behaviors? Do I not get invited back? Is my position secure once I’ve been in the group a few years? How many years? Where’s the line?
I guess I write about this, not because I fear for my ability to belong to the group, but to recognize that if there is a god who loves unconditionally, humans aren’t really capable of that broadness of character. We can’t love absolutely unconditionally. Or maybe it’s just that I can’t. And so there’s always a question. “What’s the condition of my acceptance? Does God really love unconditionally?” And of course I have to say that if God’s answering prayer is a sign of that love, then it doesn’t exist for me. After all these hours of prayer, still I get nothing.
I guess I write about this, not because I fear for my ability to belong to the group, but to recognize that if there is a god who loves unconditionally, humans aren’t really capable of that broadness of character. We can’t love absolutely unconditionally. Or maybe it’s just that I can’t. And so there’s always a question. “What’s the condition of my acceptance? Does God really love unconditionally?” And of course I have to say that if God’s answering prayer is a sign of that love, then it doesn’t exist for me. After all these hours of prayer, still I get nothing.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Jimmy
This is a story from my previous life in small town Appalachia:
We had many "characters" who lived in our town. They kept us "normal" folk annoyed and amused. Jimmy was one of them. Every day he walked around town, closely followed by his Radio Flyer, going from trash can to dumpster... collecting cans. Our town is small, only a handful of stores still open after the great industry pull out in the 70's. Most of the people who live here have chosen an isolated life, have left the city because their assistance check goes a lot further here than in a city, or they were born to families who settled here in 1890. Jimmy comes from one of those long term families, who also happen to have married too many cousins. The lack of intelligence in the Buckle family is notorious. In a town where everyone knows everyone's business, all you have to say is, "He's a Buckle," and eyes roll, indicating, "Oh yes, we know the whole clan isn't worth much."
Back to Jimmy. As Jimmy walked he visited every store, chatting with the unlucky clerks who weren't able to hide quickly enough. Jimmy could talk you to death about nothing in particular. Each stop brought a few more cans into Jimmy's wagon, and by late afternoon, he'd have a load. This happened every day of the week. Jimmy was part of the scenery, like the bank or the hardware store.
One day Jimmy became ill. He may have spent a few days in a hospital, but I can't remember. We all grieved in our own little way, over not seeing Jimmy wandering by. Of course the store clerks rejoiced for their respite, but the talk of the town was all about Jimmy and whether he would be able to come back. His illness evidently necessitated his getting a scooter. He was of course told that he could no longer make his trips into town. He had to stay in his home for his own good. And of course he didn't listen for long. Within a week, Jimmy was riding his scooter down the highway, into town. It was great to see Jimmy out and about again. The scooter changed the silhouette, but at least Jimmy was back. There was one problem. Jimmy sold those cans for extra income, and now he didn't have a way to haul them. A few days after his first scooter trip into town, a milk crate appeared on the back of the scooter, and he was back in business! The only problem was that the crate didn't hold enough cans. Hmmm. How to solve this dilemma?! You guessed it. Within another week, the Radio Flyer was secured to a tow rope behind the scooter, and Jimmy was really back in business. Down the highway, into town he rode, once again making his rounds. It was a day to celebrate! Jimmy was back! All was well in G-town!
We all rolled our eyes, and knew an accident was going to happen, but we knew that Jimmy was being Jimmy and there was no stopping him.
One day I was pulling out of the bank drive-thru and I looked across the street to see Jimmy, driving his scooter, dragging his wagon, pulling out of the furniture store parking lot. This time there was a major change in his load. Jimmy had decided he and his scooter were invincible! He was not loaded with cans (but then he may have been because I couldn't really see the wagon). All I could see was Jimmy, his scooter and a full size mattress and box spring about 2 ft from the ground, inching out the drive! It took about 10 feet for the whole thing to topple! He actually thought he could drive that scooter, toting a mattress and box spring on his wagon, through town, and out the highway to his house! Now that's possibility thinking! It wasn't logical or physically possible, but he was giving it his best! Just as I drove to rescue him, another driver stopped, loaded the dumpster find in her van, and set Jimmy safely on his way home driving his scooter, followed closely by his faithful Radio Flyer! This is life in G-town! Characters to annoy and amuse. People to love just the way they are!
We had many "characters" who lived in our town. They kept us "normal" folk annoyed and amused. Jimmy was one of them. Every day he walked around town, closely followed by his Radio Flyer, going from trash can to dumpster... collecting cans. Our town is small, only a handful of stores still open after the great industry pull out in the 70's. Most of the people who live here have chosen an isolated life, have left the city because their assistance check goes a lot further here than in a city, or they were born to families who settled here in 1890. Jimmy comes from one of those long term families, who also happen to have married too many cousins. The lack of intelligence in the Buckle family is notorious. In a town where everyone knows everyone's business, all you have to say is, "He's a Buckle," and eyes roll, indicating, "Oh yes, we know the whole clan isn't worth much."
Back to Jimmy. As Jimmy walked he visited every store, chatting with the unlucky clerks who weren't able to hide quickly enough. Jimmy could talk you to death about nothing in particular. Each stop brought a few more cans into Jimmy's wagon, and by late afternoon, he'd have a load. This happened every day of the week. Jimmy was part of the scenery, like the bank or the hardware store.
One day Jimmy became ill. He may have spent a few days in a hospital, but I can't remember. We all grieved in our own little way, over not seeing Jimmy wandering by. Of course the store clerks rejoiced for their respite, but the talk of the town was all about Jimmy and whether he would be able to come back. His illness evidently necessitated his getting a scooter. He was of course told that he could no longer make his trips into town. He had to stay in his home for his own good. And of course he didn't listen for long. Within a week, Jimmy was riding his scooter down the highway, into town. It was great to see Jimmy out and about again. The scooter changed the silhouette, but at least Jimmy was back. There was one problem. Jimmy sold those cans for extra income, and now he didn't have a way to haul them. A few days after his first scooter trip into town, a milk crate appeared on the back of the scooter, and he was back in business! The only problem was that the crate didn't hold enough cans. Hmmm. How to solve this dilemma?! You guessed it. Within another week, the Radio Flyer was secured to a tow rope behind the scooter, and Jimmy was really back in business. Down the highway, into town he rode, once again making his rounds. It was a day to celebrate! Jimmy was back! All was well in G-town!
We all rolled our eyes, and knew an accident was going to happen, but we knew that Jimmy was being Jimmy and there was no stopping him.
One day I was pulling out of the bank drive-thru and I looked across the street to see Jimmy, driving his scooter, dragging his wagon, pulling out of the furniture store parking lot. This time there was a major change in his load. Jimmy had decided he and his scooter were invincible! He was not loaded with cans (but then he may have been because I couldn't really see the wagon). All I could see was Jimmy, his scooter and a full size mattress and box spring about 2 ft from the ground, inching out the drive! It took about 10 feet for the whole thing to topple! He actually thought he could drive that scooter, toting a mattress and box spring on his wagon, through town, and out the highway to his house! Now that's possibility thinking! It wasn't logical or physically possible, but he was giving it his best! Just as I drove to rescue him, another driver stopped, loaded the dumpster find in her van, and set Jimmy safely on his way home driving his scooter, followed closely by his faithful Radio Flyer! This is life in G-town! Characters to annoy and amuse. People to love just the way they are!
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Grief
It sneaks up on you when you least expect it. Like someone with new tennis shoes, whose whereabouts are never heard. When you're tired, it creeps up silently, with no warning, so that when you turn suddenly you run into it and the two of you become one. One minute you feel positive, brave, energetic. The next, you find yourself pulling your socks down to see out. Grief. It sucks your brain out and you forget all the good there is. One day it will go away and stay away until another loss. For now it camps on my doorstep, waiting for every opportunity.
life and death
The anniversary of my mother's death was 6 days ago. I've been thinking a lot about her this week and remembering her death. She had Alzheimer's disease for about 15 years, so she died an inch at a time, eventually unrecognizing and unrecognizable. My father used to say, "This disease is evil." And it was/is. Her greatest fear when she was younger, was losing her memory. And so her biggest fear came true and we know that she would have rather died than have Alzheimers. But Alzheimers is no respector of desires, dignity, or pride.
The last week of her life, my mother had a stroke. The daughters and granddaughters gathered to say, "Goodbye." Each day she seemed to age 10 years and her face distorted. All I could think was, "This is really ugly." I don't mean that on a shallow, "pretty people" level. Each day it seemed the disease took huge portions of her and left more of a stranger in the bed. Evil was stealing her/destroying her. I'd sit and think the evil was increasing and it was ugly. On her last morning as we sat by her side, I saw evil take total control. God's life in her vanished. She was gone. And it hit me that when the evil took over completely, it instantly lost it's power. She moved on to her new life, and it was beautiful. She was finally free. At the moment of my mother's death, I understood the need to die in order for new life to begin. I saw God use evil for God's purposes. She is free.
The funeral home staff tried to get us all to gather around her one last time to say our, "Goodbye." We were done. She was gone. Her broken body lay on the bed, but she was gone. She lost her life in order to gain a new one, and for that I am grateful.
As I think about this, I realize we can learn about living our own lives. We spend most of our lives clinging to the past, clinging to the known, clinging to our image of the future. Maybe if we'd give up all that clinging, we could move on to the new life that God keeps offering. Then again, God's not speaking to me right now, so I could be wrong.
The last week of her life, my mother had a stroke. The daughters and granddaughters gathered to say, "Goodbye." Each day she seemed to age 10 years and her face distorted. All I could think was, "This is really ugly." I don't mean that on a shallow, "pretty people" level. Each day it seemed the disease took huge portions of her and left more of a stranger in the bed. Evil was stealing her/destroying her. I'd sit and think the evil was increasing and it was ugly. On her last morning as we sat by her side, I saw evil take total control. God's life in her vanished. She was gone. And it hit me that when the evil took over completely, it instantly lost it's power. She moved on to her new life, and it was beautiful. She was finally free. At the moment of my mother's death, I understood the need to die in order for new life to begin. I saw God use evil for God's purposes. She is free.
The funeral home staff tried to get us all to gather around her one last time to say our, "Goodbye." We were done. She was gone. Her broken body lay on the bed, but she was gone. She lost her life in order to gain a new one, and for that I am grateful.
As I think about this, I realize we can learn about living our own lives. We spend most of our lives clinging to the past, clinging to the known, clinging to our image of the future. Maybe if we'd give up all that clinging, we could move on to the new life that God keeps offering. Then again, God's not speaking to me right now, so I could be wrong.
Friday, October 17, 2008
God and Me
Still struggling with my relationship with God. It just seems that when I am most in need of God's presence, love, wisdom, God is not there. God is silent. I hear nothing. Yesterday I hurt my leg. It has been a good week, and I was so full of energy, I had plans to do a fall house cleaning today. Now I can't walk. Needless to say, I'm a bit discouraged and angry. Finally went out to the creek to chat with God. I guess I ranted and raved at God for over an hour. It felt good that at last I am talking to God! Don't know when God's going to talk to me! Will have to work on that some more tomorrow. It seems to be tied to my own sense of self. I've realized that when I need to defend another person, I will. When I need to defend myself, I don't. When I need God's wisdom for another person, or a church dilemna, then I hear God guiding me. When I need God's wisdom for me, I hear nothing. Somehow there's a connection. Somehow I think it's that I don't love myself enough. I don't think that God cares enough for me. But how does that work? I sit for hours listening for God, and don't hear anything. It's not like I'm not listening! So frustrating! God, are you there? Where are you? Who are you?
The affects of violence
The soon to be ex has moved out. Been considering how stressed I was when my almost ex was in the house, compared to how I've felt this week. I was using all my energy just for self preservation. It is amazing to me that even though he was not physically abusive, all my energy was used to protect against the verbal blows. I was panicked every morning when I woke up. I was unable to do much more than survive.
This week has been amazing! I've felt full of energy, focused at work, and ready to put life in order! All because I wasn't under the stress of the verbal birage. The children's rhyme, "Sticks and stones, may break my bones, but names will never hurt me," is really not true. Words have hurt me more than I ever realized until now. What a subtle way to really tear a person down. No one should put up with it. I know that God doesn't want that for me or for anyone else.
So now I can celebrate the first week of a new life!
This week has been amazing! I've felt full of energy, focused at work, and ready to put life in order! All because I wasn't under the stress of the verbal birage. The children's rhyme, "Sticks and stones, may break my bones, but names will never hurt me," is really not true. Words have hurt me more than I ever realized until now. What a subtle way to really tear a person down. No one should put up with it. I know that God doesn't want that for me or for anyone else.
So now I can celebrate the first week of a new life!
Monday, October 13, 2008
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Slice of heaven 4
Putting the broom away and knowing it will be in the same spot when I use it again. Not having the vacuum cleaner as a centerpiece in the living room. Having all the cleaning supplies put away when the job is done. Knowing where to find things. Parenting only children. Not sharing a bathroom with another adult.
A quiet home
Home alone! What an odd development. This never happens. The man is gone, the kids are gone. It's so quiet! The energyrushed out the door with them. Is that a "good thing?" or a "bad thing?" Can't decide. When life is hectic, full of noise and people, the sudden quiet shouts louder than the noise. I think I'm liking this! Can't decide if I want to do something domestic (the place really needs it!), take a nap, lie in the hammock, or read a book. Maybe all of the above. I have all evening! Wow! A whole evening! So I sit and drink iced tea, blog, and eat chocolate. No wonder I'm too skinny. This is not a balanced meal.
Who thinks of the sayings inside the Dove chocolates? Obviously some 13 year old who's enamored with being "in love." Obviously not a woman going through a divorce! It's a bit unnerving to read: "Send a love letter this week." and "Dare to love completely!"
"Temptation is fun... giving in is even better!" when you're having your first evening at home without a spouse. I am eating the chocolate to help me feel better, not suicidal! They should make a divorce recovery set that says things like, "Never marry again." "He's a jerk and you're better off without him." "You will not feel depressed forever." "You're strong. You can do this!" and the old feminist standby: "A woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle." Can't remember which feminist said that. It's still a great line. In my heart, I can't really agree yet. Wish I could. I'd feel better right now.
Home alone... feels so odd. I'm so glad to be safe and in my own home. No one to yell at me tonight. No one to rage and send me driving off to another refuge! For this I am grateful. I'm also sad. It's another step toward ending 20 years. Another positive step with painful grief. It's definitely an evening for reflection. I'm going to have to learn to do this "alone" thing. I'm going to have to learn to reflect without talking. That's a totally foreign concept! How do people do that? And how do you be alone when you've not been alone for 99.9% of your life? Another day, a different challenge. There have been too many challenges these months. I'm tired of learning to do new things! I just get over one hurdle, and there's another one immediately. When is the rest? When is there a routine? When do you get to relax? When do you sleep through the night again? Does it ever feel right to not have a spouse? or someone you love and who loves you back? I think I'll eat some more chocolate. Next time I'm getting a different brand. No more depressing love notes on my chocolates! If I were in a 12 step program, it'd be time to call my sponsor. Maybe it's time to call a friend. Damn! Wish something were easy and I weren't so damn depressed!
Who thinks of the sayings inside the Dove chocolates? Obviously some 13 year old who's enamored with being "in love." Obviously not a woman going through a divorce! It's a bit unnerving to read: "Send a love letter this week." and "Dare to love completely!"
"Temptation is fun... giving in is even better!" when you're having your first evening at home without a spouse. I am eating the chocolate to help me feel better, not suicidal! They should make a divorce recovery set that says things like, "Never marry again." "He's a jerk and you're better off without him." "You will not feel depressed forever." "You're strong. You can do this!" and the old feminist standby: "A woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle." Can't remember which feminist said that. It's still a great line. In my heart, I can't really agree yet. Wish I could. I'd feel better right now.
Home alone... feels so odd. I'm so glad to be safe and in my own home. No one to yell at me tonight. No one to rage and send me driving off to another refuge! For this I am grateful. I'm also sad. It's another step toward ending 20 years. Another positive step with painful grief. It's definitely an evening for reflection. I'm going to have to learn to do this "alone" thing. I'm going to have to learn to reflect without talking. That's a totally foreign concept! How do people do that? And how do you be alone when you've not been alone for 99.9% of your life? Another day, a different challenge. There have been too many challenges these months. I'm tired of learning to do new things! I just get over one hurdle, and there's another one immediately. When is the rest? When is there a routine? When do you get to relax? When do you sleep through the night again? Does it ever feel right to not have a spouse? or someone you love and who loves you back? I think I'll eat some more chocolate. Next time I'm getting a different brand. No more depressing love notes on my chocolates! If I were in a 12 step program, it'd be time to call my sponsor. Maybe it's time to call a friend. Damn! Wish something were easy and I weren't so damn depressed!
Saturday, October 11, 2008
slice of heaven 3
A porch swing on a veranda, overlooking a farm pond and acres of ranch fields. A camp fire with banana boats. Memories of my mother leading us in singing around the campfire.
living in hell with good friends
Keep trying to practice meditational prayer... and keep falling asleep. I keep communicating with friends. I keep trying to have a routine day. I keep trying to find God. I keep trying to have a normal conversation with my soon to be ex. The only thing that's working for me is communicating with friends. I thank God for my good friends with whom I can be honest and off-kilter. I thank God that they can put up with me when I don't even like being with me. I thank God that they're so generous and literally carrying me through this rough time. I can't remember who this happened to. I read it in a book years ago and have done this for people from time to time. The man's, (CS Lewis?) wife died. He lost his faith. He couldn't pray. Two friends came and told him that they would pray for him. Not meaning that they would pray for God to help him, but that they would pray in his stead. They would confess his sins, give his praises, talk with God for him until he felt like he could have a relationship with God again. And they did pray in his stead until his faith returned. I feel like my friends are carrying me in faith until mine returns. Thank God for friends.
slice of heaven 2
Cabernet and chocolate. Waking up to a safe home. Good friends who know you're not normally so crazy/moody/fragile/ desparate, and still care. OU football. Sleeping in.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Gossip
"Who is the father of her children?" I hate church people. They're the most judgemental. No wonder most people don't want to hang out with them.
A Slice of Heaven
A cup of tea with a splash of Woodford Reserve in it. A handful of dark chocolate truffles. A pillow, a good book, and an evening in the hammock. An image to carry through the day.
Just call me crazy
Feeling really crazy today. My life is out of control. Actually it's almost always been crazy and I'm just realizing it. Been thinking about violence today. It's been a bad day with violent words and actions. I find it incredible that I am the person who didn't want her children to have guns. I didn't want them to watch violent TV. My husband and I agreed we wouldn't ever own guns. Now my kids have pellet guns, they play terribly violent video games, and watch horribly violent movies. Where did it all go wrong? With words. With horribly violent words, thrown carelessly at the children and me. Did I notice? Did I stop it? No. How could I be so blind for so long? Now my children are not who I hoped they'd be. They have no confidence. They act violently. I find myself using violent phrases to describe the mundane, without even realizing it. I feel like my only influence on my children was to allow a violence that I didn't label as "violence." What kind of crazy mother have I been? I've worried about illness. I've tried to keep them safe from strangers. I've worked hard to help them with school. I've tried to teach them about God. All along, allowing my blindness to prevent me from protecting. Now I hear the violence and I feel it's too late. I've allowed myself to be bullied, and allowed them to be bullied by the man we all loved. This is a guilt that will last a lifetime. God forgive me.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Labels
I've been wondering about labels lately. Why do we feel a need to label things. "This is good." "This is bad." "This is right." "This is wrong." Our need to label events in our lives seems to be a need to gain some kind of control over them. Like a label gives us a handle to hang on to when things feel or seem crazy. A friend of mine has been very disappointing lately. She hasn't been in touch, or asked for support with some things that are challenging in her life. She hasn't been supportive or caring about what's going on in my life either. I've been wondering whether to call her, "my friend," now. I don't think of her as a friend anymore, and it appears she doesn't think of me as a friend either. It's so odd to lose a good friend for some unknown reason, with no "goodbye," or anything. I feel like I need to label our relationship, but I have no labels. I feel like I need to label the downfall of our friendship, but I have no labels for that either. It seems so odd! Wish I had the words to put with it all.
Wish I had the words to put with my pending divorce. Is it good? Is it bad? How do I relate it to my faith? What's God think of it? I never thought I'd be divorced. I've given other people advice to get one. I've never really judged anyone for getting a divorce, but here I am, realizing that I stayed in my marriage because it didn't seem bad enough to justify a divorce. I couldn't put a label on it that fit my criteria for a justifiable divorce. Even now, I'm certain that this is what we need to do for both of us to live a better life. I'm just not sure how to label it. Is it "good?" Is it "bad?" Does it need to be one or the other? Do I really need to label it?
I guess the big question for me is, "What does God think about all of this?" At times I think it's God who's leading us in this direction. But that seems so "wrong." It doesn't fit with my understanding of God. Maybe that's the problem, I'm trying to put a label on God, so I can have a handle to hold onto, make God managable, containable, controllable. Hmmm. I've been telling people for years not to try to do that. God isn't containable, controllable, managable. At the same time I have this great need to understand God's perspective on this divorce. I sit each day for at least an hour, trying to hear some words from God. God is silent. There are no words. There are no labels. No handle to carry this mountain of change.
Wish I had the words to put with my pending divorce. Is it good? Is it bad? How do I relate it to my faith? What's God think of it? I never thought I'd be divorced. I've given other people advice to get one. I've never really judged anyone for getting a divorce, but here I am, realizing that I stayed in my marriage because it didn't seem bad enough to justify a divorce. I couldn't put a label on it that fit my criteria for a justifiable divorce. Even now, I'm certain that this is what we need to do for both of us to live a better life. I'm just not sure how to label it. Is it "good?" Is it "bad?" Does it need to be one or the other? Do I really need to label it?
I guess the big question for me is, "What does God think about all of this?" At times I think it's God who's leading us in this direction. But that seems so "wrong." It doesn't fit with my understanding of God. Maybe that's the problem, I'm trying to put a label on God, so I can have a handle to hold onto, make God managable, containable, controllable. Hmmm. I've been telling people for years not to try to do that. God isn't containable, controllable, managable. At the same time I have this great need to understand God's perspective on this divorce. I sit each day for at least an hour, trying to hear some words from God. God is silent. There are no words. There are no labels. No handle to carry this mountain of change.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
To a Long Lost Friend
I miss you. I miss our daily "conversations," ...real and imagined when we couldn't be in touch. I miss hearing about your day and your children. I miss telling you about my day. You've left a big hole in my life and much as I ask God to fill it with God's spirit, the hole is still there, and it still hurts. I miss your touch, the affection we once shared. I miss the feeling of loving and being loved. This is a very lonely time for both of us. A friend of mine who was widowed said that the hardest part of being widowed was coming home to an empty house. No one to share the day with. Some other friends have said they miss being touched/hugged/loved. As I look around I see a lot of lonely people. Wish we could get together for a group hug, but it wouldn't be the same as being hugged by the one you love. Some people think that loving and being loved is minor in the big picture of life. They think romance is silly and inconsequential. Speaking as one who has not loved or been loved for a very long time, it is one of the most important things we do in life. Speaking as a person of faith who knows that God is all about love, it is the most important thing we do in life. I love you dear friend, and I miss you.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
What do you do?
What do you do when you realize that all the things you thought you were doing right for 20 years, turn out to be wrong? What do you do then? How do you trust yourself? How do you move on with the uncertainty of making wrong choices and wrong actions for so long in your past?
Sunday, September 7, 2008
I am not light! Gdit!
Can't figure out what to do with myself. I've posted blogs. I've read my morning dose of Eat Pray Love, (my bible for surviving divorce). I've sat outside on a beautiful day. I've checked my email a hundred times. Everyone I know's at church, and I am not. I have a very limited number of true friends who know that going to church on Sunday is the best thing they can do. I, on the other hand, have stayed away today. Too depressed. Isn't that the truth of depression. You're dying for human contact, and avoid it like the plague? Blogging is probably the total collection of truly depressed people who feel this conflict and need some kind of contact with the unknown outside world. The few other bloggers out there are trying to become famous writers, sadly hoping to be discovered for their brilliance. Sorry. Don't mean to disparage you for reading this. Call the angry writer, "simply depressed." it's no reflection on you. It's just who I am right now. That's it exactly. Depression is who I am right now. If I weren't depressed, I wouldn't be writing. I'm like that terrible novelist in whatever the heck the sequel to "Romancing the Stone," is called. She writes when she's depressed and lonely. When life is good, she's in love, and living a dream life, she can't write. That's me. I write when I'm depressed, or sad, or lonely. That's why I'm not really a writer. I'm a talker. When I'm not depressed, I'm with friends, nd loving every minute of the conversation. I guess when I'm depressed, the talker just goes underground.
I've hit a new low yesterday and today. Decided to read my therapist's sheet on self-affirmation which she kindly gave me as I ended our time by saying, "You've got to help me learn to love myself." It's always the parting shot that is the real reason for your visit. Therapists know this, and you know this, and still you play the game. It's when you've avoided the main pain for the 50 minutes and you realize that your time is up that you blurt out the truth of why you've come. "You've got to help me learn to love myself!" I throw up on the floor of her very nice office. And of course the time is up so the best she can do is give me a "self-affirmation," sheet. I've been unfair to her and to me. I know it and she knows it, and so she hands me a sheet of paper like the lifesavers my grandfather passed out to us kids. A sweet note of "I love you," wrapped in foil and paper. These sheets my therapist sometimes gives me are not worth much. I don't read them very often 'cause I know that what I really need is her presence, her insight, her caring. Today I'm desparate enough to dig out the self-affirmation from my pile of papers tucked inside my calendar. They're all like a pile of lifelines waiting patiently for when I need them. Today I need one. Yes, I need the self-affirmation paper. Open it up to find, "I am light." What the hell is that? "I'm not light," every inch of me screams! Gdit! I'm not light! And God is not soaking up all the darkness! I am the darkness and if God is fucking soaking up the darkness, then I'll simply not exist! At least the pain would stop, if I didn't exist. Should I go watch, "It's a Wonderful Life?" I haven't been that kind to that many people. One person might show up with a $1 bill.
The truth is, the real reason I'm depressed and the real reason I want this divorce, is because I want to exist. I want to more than exist. I want to be happy. I don't want to clean up the messes of my husband's existance any more! I can't even clean up my own messes! I just want to get through this pain to the "other side," where some very small part of me knows that there is a better life.
I've hit a new low yesterday and today. Decided to read my therapist's sheet on self-affirmation which she kindly gave me as I ended our time by saying, "You've got to help me learn to love myself." It's always the parting shot that is the real reason for your visit. Therapists know this, and you know this, and still you play the game. It's when you've avoided the main pain for the 50 minutes and you realize that your time is up that you blurt out the truth of why you've come. "You've got to help me learn to love myself!" I throw up on the floor of her very nice office. And of course the time is up so the best she can do is give me a "self-affirmation," sheet. I've been unfair to her and to me. I know it and she knows it, and so she hands me a sheet of paper like the lifesavers my grandfather passed out to us kids. A sweet note of "I love you," wrapped in foil and paper. These sheets my therapist sometimes gives me are not worth much. I don't read them very often 'cause I know that what I really need is her presence, her insight, her caring. Today I'm desparate enough to dig out the self-affirmation from my pile of papers tucked inside my calendar. They're all like a pile of lifelines waiting patiently for when I need them. Today I need one. Yes, I need the self-affirmation paper. Open it up to find, "I am light." What the hell is that? "I'm not light," every inch of me screams! Gdit! I'm not light! And God is not soaking up all the darkness! I am the darkness and if God is fucking soaking up the darkness, then I'll simply not exist! At least the pain would stop, if I didn't exist. Should I go watch, "It's a Wonderful Life?" I haven't been that kind to that many people. One person might show up with a $1 bill.
The truth is, the real reason I'm depressed and the real reason I want this divorce, is because I want to exist. I want to more than exist. I want to be happy. I don't want to clean up the messes of my husband's existance any more! I can't even clean up my own messes! I just want to get through this pain to the "other side," where some very small part of me knows that there is a better life.
Too Many 8's
Okay, I admit it. I'm addicted to spider solitaire. It's a great game for keeping the numbness. I play these mind games with myself. "You should get up and fix dinner." "I'm busy. (as I keep moving cards on the screen.) "You would feel better if you got off your #$$ and rode your bike." "No, I think I'll stay here and finish this hundredth game." Spider solitaire isn't my usual game. When I'm sane, I play free cell, a couple of games and walk away. But I'm not sane right now. Spider is the perfect game for the insane. It doesn't depend on skill. It depends on the deal of the cards. When you win, you can say, " I won!" When you lose you can say," The deal was bad." Free cell isn't good for the insane. It takes skill and concentration. I'm all out of those right now. When you lose at free cell, it's because you didn't figure it out. It's your fault. When you lose at spider, it was the deal. I need something else I can blame right now. It passes the time, and there's that wonderful "Undo" button!" Don't we all want an "Undo" button for life! What would you undo? I don't mean the simple things like burning dinner last night. I mean the big stuff. What would you "Undo?" I'd undo at least 10 years of marriage. Well, maybe 9. I have a ten year old who I wouldn't trade for the world. Okay, so I'd undo 9 years of marriage. 9 years of trying to do the right thing, trying to help him feel good about himself, trying to help him find a career that fit him, trying to help him learn to keep his temper, trying to keep the house, the job, the kids all running smoothly while he started financial and emotional fires every few days. I would undo all that. I would go back and regain 9 years of hell and be younger when I start all over. It's not fun at 51 with 3 kids and a boat load of debt to start all over. That's basically the problem, why I'm stuck in this pain right now. There's no "undo" button. I can't take those years back. I can't not owe all those corporations money. I can't undo his rage and my resentment that has kept my kids from feeling good about themselves. I can't undo the damage or the good years thrown away, and there is no clear next move. You see I've been missing all the 8's. The cards kept piling up because I didn't have the 8's. I kept hitting the "deal" button, but no 8's. Now I've finally hit the "deal" and all the 8's came marching out from their hiding place. They posted themselves squarely on each pile, blocking all progress, and showing what I couldn't find before. Now, the cherished 8's are all there. I was looking for them the whole game and they hid. Now they're all out of hiding, and smothering me. There's no move. The "undo" button won't save me now. The game is over, and I have lost.
Checking Email or "Ode to CVS"
My friends all complain that they get too much email. I'm the opposite. I live for my email. It seems to be one of my lifelines right now. A confirmation that someone cares... a confirmation that there is life outside this miserable house... a confirmation that I'm loved, even if it's by CVS with a great deal on pictures. Actually that's not true. Each time I open that magical window of communicaton and see, "Receiving 1 of 1 messages," my heart skips a beat. "I am loved! Someone cares! I wonder who it is? I wonder what they have to say! I hope it's not work or CVS with a deal on picture printing." And then, proof of my aloneness... proof that I am not lovable... proof that I only exist to consume... proof of nothingness. "CVS Pharmacy...."
Divorce Camp for Kids
There should be a divorce camp for kids. Someplace where they can go and be loved, be happy, and prosper while their parents drown in the morass of depression. It's just not fair that they have to live in the same house as their parents who can barely face getting out of bed in the morning. Perhaps if there were some place like that, kids wouldn't commit seemingly random acts of self-destruction. If there were such a place, I'm sure the court would have my kids settled into their comfortable cabins with temporary parents who love them and care for them without slogging through the house. If there were such a place, my son would not be a walking bandage and my car would still exist. If there were such a place 3 other kids wouldn't be nursing scrapes and bruises from a night of "trying to be happy for a change." Oh the crimes we impose on our kids, just due to our existence. They don't deserve them. They don't deserve any of this. And yet, I can barely exist, let alone be any different.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Loving Ourselves
Been thinking about loving myself lately. It's a strange task. Most of us are able to, or not able to, based on our childhood. "Love yourself," my faith tradition says. "Love yourself," I say to others. I don't. It's become a strange realization that I just don't love myself. I mean to say that I think I do... with my head. Just don't feel it with the rest of me. It hit me like a rock on the head one day. A friend asked me, "You do believe you're lovable don't you? You believe that God loves you, don't you?" I've been chewing on those questions for weeks. I've realized that I don't really feel loved or not loved. I don't really feel like I love myself or I don't love myself. I am truly a product of my English/Scottish ancestry. I believe in myself. I have confidence in myself, (much of the time) based on earning respect. It's not supposed to be that way, I know. I can't earn my love or God's love. It just has to be. How do you work on that? To work on it means, I'm back to earning it!
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
superman
superman won't move out. hasn't done a thing for anyone in 20 years and suddenly becomes super father...now that superwoman has told him to leave. helping children with homework, shopping, cooking, super caring, super giving. perhaps he'll wear himself out soon. I can hope. I can pray his hateful heart shows itself.
Where's God
Okay, so I've had this faith tradition with a whole lot of beliefs. In fact I promote those beliefs most of the time. The fact is, I believe God is loving and sometimes talks to people. For me God has always talked through other humans. I'll be looking for an answer to one of my millions of questions and someone will say a random thought that answers that question. The problem is, the answers I get are usually related to my work, not my personal life. What's up with that? Been trying out this meditational prayer stuff off and on for years. I may be the most impatient person on earth, or I'm just not getting anything from it. "Be still. Listen. " they say. Not hearing anything. Not even a nudge in any direction. Why does this work for millions and not for me? Is it just personality? Does God work in our lives according to how God made us? Aren't we supposed to seek balance by doing things that don't come naturally? Okay, so I'll keep trying... for awhile.
Men
Why are most men my age so fat? What's with the big guts? Do they honestly want sex, or do they just want to talk about wanting sex. No wonder most women have lost interest in their husbands! Men date and look good. Get married and put on 50 pounds. What are the thinking?
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
The pain
We all just want the pain to stop. Sometimes we take positive steps to end it. Sometimes we just cause more pain.
It's time to remember that it's okay to seek happiness and success. It's time to remember we're lovable. Well, most of us, anyway. Okay, all of us, even if God is the only one who can.
It's time to remember that it's okay to seek happiness and success. It's time to remember we're lovable. Well, most of us, anyway. Okay, all of us, even if God is the only one who can.
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