Blogging The Journey

I started writing this blog because there is a lot of crap going on inside of me, because there was a lot of crap going on in my life for the past few years. The crap has finally settled down...but there is, and will continue to be, fallout to deal with. So my hope is that by pouring some of it out here, it might help me find better ways to get through.

I want my life to make a positive difference. I want my words to bring light and hope and maybe even comfort to anyone who reads them...including my own self, because I too need light and hope for my own journey. It's fun searching through the Internet for positive messages, inspirational quotes and beautiful pictures to share with others, here and on Facebook, but I do it also because of my own need to soak in that beauty and inspiration and positivity. I post these words because I really need them to sink into my own psyche and keep me moving forward and upward. I don't want to get sucked into the darkness that hovers at the edge of my day, waiting to grab me by even the thinnest shred of futility and pull me down into a dark hole too deep to climb my own way out of.

So I write all around it, infusing hope and light, because I know that there has to be hope and light. Even though I might not be feeling positive deep down inside, I hope that by writing it into my script, it will come true.

Because underneath all of these attempts to rewrite myself into a better place is a strong undercurrent of remnant sadness. I still feel bruised by the impact of so much fallout, and lost in the rubble of so many rugs being pulled out from under me recently. I simply don't know how to cope with it all sometimes, it's so overwhelming. So I don't do anything at all, except resolutely plodding on, day after day, breaking each day into manageable chunks of routines and moments, ignoring the ambiguity between where I am and where I want to be. Because if I confront it, it means I'd have to do something about it and I can't...or don't want to have to make any life-altering decisions right now. I need some of these rugs to stay under my feet for now.

I guess that's my coping mechanisms...to just take each day as it comes and deal with it in those smaller  chunks. I wake up in the morning determined to fling open those curtains and breathe in enough of that sunlight and "clean slate" mercy to carry me through the day with enough positivity and gratitude attitude to make it all the way through to that moment when I can fall back into bed again and be grateful to have made it through another day.

My experience has been that when we dwell too long on the negative, we often just end up perpetuating it and never find our way out of it. As valuable as therapy has been throughout my life, there has always come that point when it was time to stop digging around in the dirt and start building something better with whatever is left to build on. So here, I'm trying to use the negative stuff only to provide background and a starting point, and from there I want to explore the hope and light and all the small "do-able" ways to find the way through, in hopes that it not only helps me but maybe someone else who is also struggling.

Most of us are hurting in some way; many of us find ourselves fumbling our way to new horizons that we're forced to redefine because of loss and fallout and rugs being pulled out from underneath us. We need hope that we can find safe pathways through the tough stretches of road, and light to help us find our footing in the strange new surroundings that we face when new upheavals leave us lost without an updated roadmap.

I don't know if my struggles help anyone else. I do know I have to keep putting one foot in front of the other in blind faith that one day the light and hope that I try to infuse into my writings become my own and not just borrowed from catchy quotes and beautiful Googled pictures.

Now Is Right On Time

Somebody posted this on my Facebook wall last night and it sent me to bed with gratitude in my heart because for several days now, I've been in a bit of a funk. It was triggered by hearing about a family reunion that took place recently - and to which I was not invited. And yet I heard about it only because people contacted me to say that they were sorry I hadn't been able to make it - apparently they all thought that it had been too far for us to drive. But after searching through my email and phone messages, we're sure that we received nothing about being welcome to join the gathering. It would not have bothered me so much to hear that everyone had gotten together...it only bothered me to hear that they THOUGHT I had been invited and just didn't show up. When in fact, I've been so hungry for family lately that nothing would have kept me away had I known I would be welcome.

So then I've been haunted and plagued by the relentless "why" running helter-skelter through my mind ever since. And that caused another avalanche of regrets and despair, and those old familiar feelings of inferiority and worthlessness because in my mind, the lack of invitation affirmed the fear that my life has been such a disaster and taken such questionable twists and turns as to render me unacceptable in the eyes and hearts of this part of my family. "Beyond Redemption" so to speak.

In my saner, wiser moments, I'm convinced beyond doubt that there is no such thing as being "beyond redemption". I've experienced the mercy and grace of God to such profound and tangible extents, that it is impossible for me to believe that any one of us could ever be beyond His love. And yet, there I was, lost and wallowing in those old fears that I could be wrong and that maybe....

But I resolutely fought back against that tide of despair, clinging to my faith and to the lessons I've learned about God's Love. I wrestled with these old regrets and ancient tapes in my head, and prayed for help in my endeavor to refocus on the positive and good - on GOD'S loving vision for my life - I mean, we can't go back and rewrite history, can we...and having experienced His mercy and tender compassion, it's impossible to conceive that we would be forever banned from His Presence because of stupid choices we've made in the past. The only sane way to keep oneself going is to believe that there is good that can come out of anything and everything...that we can grow and evolve and perhaps even become wounded healers, able to help others who are also lost and wounded along their way.

So I prayed, and wept, and prayed some more, and read inspirational writings, and prayed, nagging Him with my angst and moanings, crawling into His Love for solace, and then slowly began to regain my footing to the point where I could let go of all of that garbage. And then a friend, who knew nothing of all of this, posted this quote on my wall. For me it was the perfect answer to my prayers...a tender, loving response from a tender, loving God who knows the crushing disappointment I feel about myself all too often, who knows the agonizing sadness of those regrets and my ongoing attempts to fumble my way to "better" and "wiser".

My journey has molded me for my greater good. It was exactly what it needed to be. I can believe that none of it was lost (or wasted) time - because it has taken EACH and EVERY situation - every twist and turn has had its lessons and wisdoms that He needed me to learn - to bring me to my - not just "my", but HIS "now" for me - and this "now", here today, is RIGHT ON TIME! Hallelujah!!

Maybe my invitation was lost in the mail. Maybe they were just meant to be together the way they gathered, for reasons more profound than any of us know. Now it's okay. I'm okay. I trust again. There will be other gatherings, and the time will be right for me to be there. God answered. I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be. And it is very very good.

Scoldings

Who likes to be scolded? Not me. I didn't as a child, and I certainly don't like being scolded now at 56 years old. I used to just cringe and scuttle off in shame and embarrassment. Now I just start blubbering right then and there.

This morning we took two boxes of books to our local library. One of our neighbours is a volunteer there in a program which takes donations of used books, then resells them to raise funds for the library. So we had arranged with her to take the boxes there today. We parked, went into reception where we were instructed to go to the side door where someone would meet us. We did, and he did, and without any preamble or warning, he started scolding me for a) bringing the books in a box instead of shopping bags; and b) for coming to that door instead of through the front door to the reception desk. What?? He kept going on and on with this blatantly hostile scolding. Normally, even just a few months ago, it would have been enough to send me running for the car for cover. But this morning, I didn't run and felt something strong and powerful well up in me - yes, it was my own voice!

I calmly (but in a slightly raised voice so I could speak over HIS voice) told him that we had pre-arranged this all with our neighbour, and that we had already gone to the reception desk FIRST and that the woman there had redirected us here to this door. He mumbled something that I couldn't catch (though I'm pretty sure it was NOT an apology) and we all managed to stay civil long enough to get the two boxes of books where they were supposed to go. Then my husband went back to the car to re-park and I walked over to where our neighbour was working and promptly burst into tears. After taking a few moments to recompose myself, we were able to chat and she showed me around that part of the library. And then we left and that was that. Which in itself is a minor miracle.

For about the past ten years, I've had trouble getting myself out my front door. Everything and everybody scared me. I would burst into tears for absolutely no reason at all, right in the middle of the store, at the checkout, in the mall...it was terribly inconvenient and humiliating, and so I just stopped going out anywhere for quite a long time. Eventually I was able to get out as long as my husband was with me, but whenever he was away working, I couldn't even go out the front door to get the mail. It was ridiculous, and irrational, but that's the way it was.

It has only been in the past year or so that I've been able to go out my own front door on my own. I can even sit outside on my front porch all by myself now, though some days it can still be very difficult to do. But I force myself now, because I know it's something I just have to do myself.

But today's episode is exactly the sort of thing that I dread. I don't like confrontation, hostility in any shape or form triggers all sorts of stressful responses in my body, but the very worst of all is to be scolded - especially to be scolded for something that doesn't deserve a scolding. I've never been good at that, it's long been a source of angst and sorrow for me to be scolded for something I didn't do or that I did do but doesn't warrant a scolding.

This morning's confrontation was so unexpected that it totally discombobulated me - for all of a few minutes. While I learned that I still don't like being scolded, and that I still burst into tears very easily, I also learned that it wasn't enough to send me scuttling back into hibernation, and that I have come far enough along to have been able to stop him and stand up for myself. That felt good.

But I don't really like that I ended up doing exactly to him what I was ranting about him doing to me...scolding him...that didn't feel so good to either one of us. I do recognize that in his own mind he had reasons that made sense to him for approaching me like that. Sigh. We're all works-in-progress, aren't we!

But for now, I'll focus on the good and positive lessons learned today and grow with that.

(PS, you've come a long way baby!!)

Transience

Transience. Transience is something I've been wrestling with for most of my life. On the one hand, the reality that "this too shall pass" is comforting and can get me through just about any unbearable situation. On the other hand, I've always had difficulty watching people leave my life. Death is agonizing because there is not even the hope of ever seeing that person again here on earth. When a person's leaving is due to a move, we can at least comfort ourselves with promises to keep in touch...and we do...for awhile, until time, distance and life's demands pull us in different directions. When a person leaves with no explanation at all, we can be left in a swirl of confusing questions and a sense of unfinished business and unclosed doors. It can often be difficult to move on until we can figure out the "why".

I have abandonment issues. We're not sure why it's as profound as it is, but it is what it is. Therapy hasn't really unlocked the "why", but has helped me to develop coping skills so as not to be as devastated by leave-takings as I used to be. But I'm still profoundly affected when someone leaves my life for whatever reason, and every leave-taking eventually leads me through a myriad of nagging questions always ending with that most painful question of all "why don't they like me?"

Even writing it betrays the childishness behind the inability to let go gracefully. I am much more graceful at letting go now than I used to be. Someone's leaving used to reduce me to a crumpled heap of writhing bafflement, spending hours and days in bed coming to terms with that agony of absence, and figuring out how to tiptoe around the holes that each person leaves behind in my heart. Now I'm more understanding of the transience of life, and that people have to march to their own drumbeats....faith helps when I believe that each person has a purpose they are fulfilling and that "moving on" is God-at-work. It still hurts, but not with such detrimental force.

I love deeply. Each person who comes into my life is such a treasure, I just want to sit at their feet and learn everything there is to learn, both about that person and about everything that person knows. Intense, I know. (I probably would have made a great psychologist!) Perhaps that's why I've retreated into social hibernation, not just because I've lost so many loved ones recently, but because I simply don't always know how to rein in that exuberance with the few that are left...it's easier not to have to figure it out than to keep having to stifle my joy in being with people I enjoy being with.

I've never been able to figure it out. It's the bane of my existence, this whole social interaction facet of life. I've never been able to figure out when too much is too much and too little is too little, maybe because it changes with each person and they just don't know how to teach me or stay around long enough for me to learn. Sadly, what's joy to me appears to be burdensome to them. 

Sigh. This is such a weird topic. But I'm really missing some people right now, people who used to be a vibrant part of my life and now aren't even on the radar anymore. Why? I don't know. And when I don't know why this friendship or that relationship didn't work, how do I learn for the next one so that I don't make the same mistakes over and over again?

Sometimes my head aches with trying to figure it all out. So I don't. I just keep on moving on, hoping that time will heal all wounds and reveal reasons and resolutions.

This too shall pass...

Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.  (Anaïs Nin)

12 O'Clock Authenticity and Chameleonic Fumblings

Several years ago, I had an ongoing discussion with someone about "12 O'Clock Authenticity". The discussion arose out of my fumbling my way through a loss of identity after my Dad and Mom died. Mom's death was especially catalytic, because so many buried, squelched, repressed emotions came raging to the surface with such force that I simply could not cope with the onslaught. It took several months of therapy to help me through that minefield...that was at the same time that I had collapsed from exhaustion and grief, and had spiraled into fairly deep depression. We had to do a lot of "rewiring of the attic" to find new stable ground and horizons that I could want to live for. 

As well as re-establishing new ground and horizons, we also had to work on identity. After a lifetime of changing, or "chameleonizing" myself in order to survive, we realized that I really didn't even have any sense at all of who I was anymore. I didn't know what I liked, what I wanted, what my hopes and dreams were...nothing about my old self made any sense to me anymore. Everything had been inextricably linked and dependent on my family, my job, my religion, my friends...with the loss of my job, the deaths of both parents, the inability to go to church at that time, and the loss of the many friends who had been work-related and who quickly moved on to other work-related friendships, I had nothing left to mark my niche in the world.

It was a long fumbling crawl out of the rubble of "what was and never could be again". But I made it - and felt good about having survived. But that nagging feeling of lostness continued. And so we had to really dig deep inside and start pulling out facets of my deepest self in order to find out who I was in that new here-and-now. We discovered that one of my greatest talents was being an amazingly successful chameleon, so good that we no longer even knew who the original Sharon was.

This person with whom I had the discussion helped me to envision it this way...that we all start out at twelve o'clock, brand new, with a clean slate on which we're meant to write who we are, day by day, experience by experience, discovering what our natural talents are, and evolving all that we experience and discover into the best possible self we can be in order to live the kind of life we wish to create for ourselves. Lives built on passion, talent and the meanings we attach to our activities and events around us. But we are shaped from our earliest years by the responses to our explorations and discoveries, and if those responses (especially from parents, siblings and teachers) are negative and punitive, we begin to change (chameleonize) ourselves to better fit in and meet their approval.

In some childhood environments, this disapproval is constant...eventually so constantly inconsistent as to be baffling and detrimental. But we continuously keep trying to "fix" ourselves in a desperate attempt to be acceptable....and every time we alter ourselves, even just a little change at a time, we move farther away from 12 o'clock. Eventually we chameleonize ourselves so far beyond our original starting point that we lose all sight of where we started from - and who we were. We bury, repress and deny our own likes, dislikes, opinions, beliefs and perhaps even our natural talents and passions.

So our continuing discussion came full circle, with the theory that in order to get back to our original truest self, we had to return to 12 o'clock authenticity...but then it started to get complex as we wondered if that was even possible, because after a life-time of chameleonizing ourselves, how could we ever trust that we actually reached 12 o'clock authenticity or just chameleonized ourselves yet again into BELIEVING that we had finally reached that pinnacle.

Sigh. We never did resolve it. And I had to do more of that wrestling and fumbing and rebuilding new horizons after Gary died and the rest of our family shattered. I still fumble. In large part because deep inside, I still feel like my future and horizons - the future and horizons of our entire family - were stolen when Gary died and I don't know what to replace those horizons with.

But after all of that hard work, I do have a much clearer picture of what I like and dislike, and am no longer willing to auto-suppress or hide my emotions and pretend I don't feel what I feel just for the sake of someone else's comfort.

But lifelong habits die hard. I know I still chameleonize myself in order to keep the peace in the house. I don't know how I feel about that...it changes from one situation to another. I seem to like being able to do so if my heart can honestly be contented with "just being kind". And being able to pick and choose my battles feels like a new level of empowerment, and that feels good. So maybe it's okay to pick and choose when to chameleonize myself, as long as I always know and stay true to the root truths about who I am and want to be, even if that includes being kind and chameleonic when I decide it's okay to be.

We're still a work-in-progress...to be continued...