Hi, my name is Kelsey and I am addicted to facebook.
My love affair with facebook began in June 2008. I even documented it with a post on this blog. Little did I know what started as a little whim would evolve into being a stronghold in my life.
Oh, it was so incredibly fun in the beginning. Every time I logged on there would be a new connection. I loved seeing updated pictures of people I hadn't seen in years, hearing what life had been for them, laughing at old times. I squealed in delight when I reconnected with my debate camp roommate from the summer of '86. I walked down memory lane with my girls from year abroad, even reconnecting with every member of my host family during that year. I found family members I hadn't seen in years, all the while sinking deeper and more passionately enamored by the trappings of facebook.
A high school reunion this past fall egged on the relationship. It fed the "need" to check facebook on levels that way surpassed more than healthy. The committee planned the reunion largely on facebook ensuring that I would be held captive for the planning period of 6 months prior to the event.
Little jabs by my real-world significant other (Jay), made me stop and think about my indiscretion, but it was easy to explain away the time spent as productive, useful, my only means of connection with "some of these friends." Meanwhile, I was checking my home page all too frequently - multiple times a day. I had way too much information in my brain, drivel that was dribbling to be exact, about mere acquaintances. Some "friends" I have never actually had a verbal, out loud conversation with. I looked at pictures of people I didn't even know!
Things started to really change when that little lovely voice of conviction started creeping in. It wasn't me, my husband or my friends telling me how this has taking over, it was Him. Those nudges you just can't explain away. You have to deal with them head on.
To cap it off, I started a new bible study, "No Other Gods" by Kelly Minter. Should have known by the title that this would be a study that made me examine the motives of my heart. One compelling statement in the early part of this study is, "I'm totally afraid we are routinely putting ourselves in front of things that compromise the good the Lord wants to accomplish in us."
You can begin to see cracks in my relationship with it here in January of this year. I was thinking about breaking up with Facebook, but wasn't quite ready to let it go. You know, what if I lost contact with some of my friends again? Part of my social world would disappear. I couldn't think about the horrors of horrors...my B.F. life (before Facebook) and returning to it. I wasn't willing to live that out, yet.
Meanwhile, the bible study continued. I set out to discover what I was, without much thought, putting ahead of what I should be. What had become an idol in my life? It was pretty easy to discover one. Facebook. Sure, there are several others sitting on the list, but Facebook is the easiest one to fix.
The smack in the face, however, came when it was revealed to me what the "things" on my list had in common. Identity. It was a little wounding to discover what I feared most was to be forgotten, to be looked over, to no longer have affirmation to my being - like having 19 comment posts to my status update. Now, you don't have to tell me how completely pathetic that is. My identity in Christ does not pale in comparison to my identity on Facebook, but in time, I had allowed that to happen.
While I am at it, let me just lay it all on the line. When you fill your brain up with information about other people, information that you would normally not be privy too, it can bring out some pretty nasty internal results...coveting, self-pity, comparisons, judgements, even anger. In fact, Tom Keller, pastor of Redeemer Presbyterian Church in NYC says, "Idolatry is attached to everything, All of our bitterness, all our impurity, all our malice, all of our problems, everything that troubles us is a result of idolatry." I had allowed Facebook to become an idol - of my time, of my emotions, of my identity.
Now, I am not here to stir up a debate about the merits of Facebook. Nor do I want to hear all the reasons why someone has justified their relationship with it. I am writing only about myself and my complete lack of self-control. In no way am I claiming that Facebook is a pox against all society and rallying for its complete destruction.
You know, I actually have to giggle at a remark someone made to me yesterday. I stated I was writing this post and they said, "It sounds like you are writing your obituary." Actually, it is. A death to the sinful, self-focused self that I am, that quickly foresakes God for a few comments and accolades on a website. However, there is no sadness with this announcement, only joy. In that death is a birth of more of Him within me. Oh what joy and peace knowing my heart now has more room for God. My God - a guilt-less, convicting-less, loving addiction.
This prayer from A.W. Tozer completely sums up this battle and victory (from Facebook, light-hearted and trivial, to the more heart-wrenching idols of self-worth and control):
"Father, I want to know You, but my cowardly heart fears to give up its toys. I cannot part with them without inward bleeding and I do not try to hide from You the terror of the parting. I come trembling, but I do come. Please root from my heart all those things which I have cherished so long and which have become a very part of my living self, so that You may enter and dwell there without a rival. Then You shall make the place at Your feet glorious. Then shall my heart have no need of the sun to shine in it, for You alone will be the light of it, and there shall be no night there."
Showing posts with label introspection. Show all posts
Showing posts with label introspection. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 02, 2010
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Low, Again
The last two weeks have swirled by with the fury of a blizzard. I use the word blizzard because much of it felt as if I were stranded in blackout conditions. It really wasn't so much the circumstances, but my inability to handle them.
For the past 14 days, someone in my house has been sick. They have been so painfully sick that we have had numerous trips to the doctors, hospitals and finally a three-day stint at Brenner's Children's Hospital. My sad, pitifully merciless heart has grown a bit as I have held my two oldest while they have writhed, cried and screamed their way through the massive cramping and stabbing war going on in their bellies. What is must be like for parents who must experience this daily with their chronically ill spawn. That is a journey I beg God not to send me through.
My own inability to soothe my children, bring them comfort, find a solution has sent me spiraling. It is that battle of control, once again. The urge to focus, become obsessive, on matters completely not eternal, has wound me tighter than a tick. Ranting has, unfortunately, become the norm and it only takes a tiny blip in my scheduling to send me careening over the edge of the tightrope I walk as a mother. I am gone before I can even attempt to grab at that rope and salvage some bit of the show. My husband, my children, my extended family, even the dog -no one has been immune.
I could list everything on my mind at this very minute, but none of them really matter. What I do recognize is that I am in a very bad place. I do not have the skills to make sense of it all. This is not how I want to live as I have lived better. I am not enjoying this season of life and I should. Sometimes, you just have to know when to raise the white flag of surrender...again.
For the past 14 days, someone in my house has been sick. They have been so painfully sick that we have had numerous trips to the doctors, hospitals and finally a three-day stint at Brenner's Children's Hospital. My sad, pitifully merciless heart has grown a bit as I have held my two oldest while they have writhed, cried and screamed their way through the massive cramping and stabbing war going on in their bellies. What is must be like for parents who must experience this daily with their chronically ill spawn. That is a journey I beg God not to send me through.
My own inability to soothe my children, bring them comfort, find a solution has sent me spiraling. It is that battle of control, once again. The urge to focus, become obsessive, on matters completely not eternal, has wound me tighter than a tick. Ranting has, unfortunately, become the norm and it only takes a tiny blip in my scheduling to send me careening over the edge of the tightrope I walk as a mother. I am gone before I can even attempt to grab at that rope and salvage some bit of the show. My husband, my children, my extended family, even the dog -no one has been immune.
I could list everything on my mind at this very minute, but none of them really matter. What I do recognize is that I am in a very bad place. I do not have the skills to make sense of it all. This is not how I want to live as I have lived better. I am not enjoying this season of life and I should. Sometimes, you just have to know when to raise the white flag of surrender...again.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
He Makes New Every Morning
Despite not being a morning person, I do love how every morning generally brings a new perspective, a fresh start and a reinvigorated focus. Here is where I am this morning as opposed to yesterday:
Of particular focus is the phrase, "smashing warped philosophies" and, "fitting every loose thought and emotional and impulse into the structure of life shaped by Christ." Generally, I don't read the Message version of the bible too often, but I really liked how this was interpreted.
My quiet time was spent reflecting on how I have not been using the "tools of my trade," otherwise know as the word of God, to smash, squash, demolish, destroy and tear down the bondage my battle with weight and ultimately my battle with control has had me in. Reading this passage also gave me a boost, strengthening my resolve that His word can kill of the world's pressures and ideals which is from a, "massively corrupt culture." Instead of constantly and consistently keeping God's purpose and image of me in the forefront, I have let the world's, "marketing or manipulation," drive me. I have not been making an a purposeful, concerted effort to stop these thoughts and habits in their tracks with the word of God. Therefore, "clearing the ground of every obstruction," between me and my Father.
My walk with this Lord has been quite immature lately. I let it just come and go like the waves on a beach. Sad that I have reached this point in my spiritual walk, I know. It is time to be habitual and purposeful again, "building a life of obedience to maturity." Always available, always faithful, His word and prayer are, "tools...ready at hand." What a perfect time to draw close to Him, this morning which He has made new for me.
"The world is unprincipled. It's dog-eat-dog out there! The world doesn't fight fair. But we don't live or fight our battles that way—never have and never will. The tools of our trade aren't for marketing or manipulation, but they are for demolishing that entire massively corrupt culture. We use our powerful God-tools for smashing warped philosophies, tearing down barriers erected against the truth of God, fitting every loose thought and emotion and impulse into the structure of life shaped by Christ. Our tools are ready at hand for clearing the ground of every obstruction and building lives of obedience into maturity."
2 Corinthians 10:3-6 (The Message)
Of particular focus is the phrase, "smashing warped philosophies" and, "fitting every loose thought and emotional and impulse into the structure of life shaped by Christ." Generally, I don't read the Message version of the bible too often, but I really liked how this was interpreted.
My quiet time was spent reflecting on how I have not been using the "tools of my trade," otherwise know as the word of God, to smash, squash, demolish, destroy and tear down the bondage my battle with weight and ultimately my battle with control has had me in. Reading this passage also gave me a boost, strengthening my resolve that His word can kill of the world's pressures and ideals which is from a, "massively corrupt culture." Instead of constantly and consistently keeping God's purpose and image of me in the forefront, I have let the world's, "marketing or manipulation," drive me. I have not been making an a purposeful, concerted effort to stop these thoughts and habits in their tracks with the word of God. Therefore, "clearing the ground of every obstruction," between me and my Father.
My walk with this Lord has been quite immature lately. I let it just come and go like the waves on a beach. Sad that I have reached this point in my spiritual walk, I know. It is time to be habitual and purposeful again, "building a life of obedience to maturity." Always available, always faithful, His word and prayer are, "tools...ready at hand." What a perfect time to draw close to Him, this morning which He has made new for me.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
The Numbers Game, part 3
The weeks that have passed since writing The Numbers Game, Part 2 have been a struggle for me. Actually, using the word "struggle" is an incredible understatement.
I was determined not to step foot on the bathroom scale since declaring I would not allow it to be a part of my daily routine any longer. However, it began weighing heavily on my mind every morning as I prepared myself for the day. The scale sat in its usual place, taunting me, calling me so desiring to wield its power over me and dictate to me if I will feel good about myself today or not. I had resisted, until a week ago.
During this hiatus from the bathroom scale, I felt as if I were growing larger by the moment. My clothes all seemed to be shrinking and every morning I found something in my closet I thought was just a tad tighter than the last time I wore it. No one mentioned to me that it looked like I had lost weight lately and this compounded my panicky feelings. My days consistently battled with low self- esteem and of measuring and comparing myself to every other woman I encountered. I apologize if that makes anyone reading this feel uncomfortable, but I am trying to bear it all today in this post.
Fast-forward to this past week. Jay had a doctor's appointment and despite working out 3 days a week, he gained enough weight for his doctor to be concerned. Yeah, ok, so some of it is muscle weight, but he and I know that most is not. Additionally, I know that I had put on some pounds since mid-May, how much, I did not know. However, since he was going to be cutting back, I figured out I would be supportive and jump on the band wagon.
I knew it wasn't going to be pretty. I have been uncomfortable in most of my clothes and my eating habits have been completely out of control. As I stepped onto the scale, I let out an audible gasp, my stomach began to knot. I have gained 12 pounds since mid-May. 12 pounds.
Do I know how petty all of this is? Yes. Is it completely out of perspective? Yes. Are there a million more things in this world that are more important? Yes. Yet, I am con summed with this.
Control. There is it, that word again. Self-control, discipline, focus, manage; whatever word you want to use, it describes what I battle in my life. My control verses God's control. For 5 years, I have controlled my weight, allowing me to better deal with all of the other uncontrollables in my life - children, husband, death, work, house, etc. Now, even that is out of my control. My inner self has completely come unglued, chaos reigning and borderline depression setting up camp.
I can remember a time when my house was my controllable area. Cleaning an exorbitant amount - wiping baseboards weekly, cleaning blinds weekly, organizing and reorganizing closets. I chose this focus because my weight was so vastly out of control, I didn't even see it as an area under my influence. As the children grew and became more destructive to the house and I began my journey to physical fitness, my focus shifted to something I could actually dictate, food consumed. Compounding that were the added burdens of cancer and death - two variables completely out of my hands.
I am very angry with myself. My anger at my weight gain is superseded by my anger at myself for wasting so much emotional energy with this topic. I am extraordinarily disappointed at how I treat others around me when I feel this inwardly chaotic. I transfer my frustrations at failing at my own ridiculous goal of perfection to my children. I was very unfair to them yesterday and I am still struggling with that reality this morning.
Now I am scrambling, lowering my caloric intake, drinking water by the jug full, all the while growing agitated and completely aggravated by my constant state of hunger and desire for chocolate. For what, I ask myself? To feel in control again. The irony of the statement does not escape me; I know nothing is truly under my control.
I have had seasons when I was at rest in my life, when I was not running that treadmill of constant work and control. Short-lived these seasons were, but I have lived them. Disappointingly, I am back in this pit of numbers, scrambling on my own, by my own strength to gain footing to climb out of it. I know failure is assured with this method, and yet, my sinful tendency is to solve it on my own, with my own control.
I know what I need to do, but will I do it? It is another season of brokenness and I pray that it will be the last one with this stronghold I will have to endure. I pray for the end to this maddening numbers game.
I was determined not to step foot on the bathroom scale since declaring I would not allow it to be a part of my daily routine any longer. However, it began weighing heavily on my mind every morning as I prepared myself for the day. The scale sat in its usual place, taunting me, calling me so desiring to wield its power over me and dictate to me if I will feel good about myself today or not. I had resisted, until a week ago.
During this hiatus from the bathroom scale, I felt as if I were growing larger by the moment. My clothes all seemed to be shrinking and every morning I found something in my closet I thought was just a tad tighter than the last time I wore it. No one mentioned to me that it looked like I had lost weight lately and this compounded my panicky feelings. My days consistently battled with low self- esteem and of measuring and comparing myself to every other woman I encountered. I apologize if that makes anyone reading this feel uncomfortable, but I am trying to bear it all today in this post.
Fast-forward to this past week. Jay had a doctor's appointment and despite working out 3 days a week, he gained enough weight for his doctor to be concerned. Yeah, ok, so some of it is muscle weight, but he and I know that most is not. Additionally, I know that I had put on some pounds since mid-May, how much, I did not know. However, since he was going to be cutting back, I figured out I would be supportive and jump on the band wagon.
I knew it wasn't going to be pretty. I have been uncomfortable in most of my clothes and my eating habits have been completely out of control. As I stepped onto the scale, I let out an audible gasp, my stomach began to knot. I have gained 12 pounds since mid-May. 12 pounds.
Do I know how petty all of this is? Yes. Is it completely out of perspective? Yes. Are there a million more things in this world that are more important? Yes. Yet, I am con summed with this.
Control. There is it, that word again. Self-control, discipline, focus, manage; whatever word you want to use, it describes what I battle in my life. My control verses God's control. For 5 years, I have controlled my weight, allowing me to better deal with all of the other uncontrollables in my life - children, husband, death, work, house, etc. Now, even that is out of my control. My inner self has completely come unglued, chaos reigning and borderline depression setting up camp.
I can remember a time when my house was my controllable area. Cleaning an exorbitant amount - wiping baseboards weekly, cleaning blinds weekly, organizing and reorganizing closets. I chose this focus because my weight was so vastly out of control, I didn't even see it as an area under my influence. As the children grew and became more destructive to the house and I began my journey to physical fitness, my focus shifted to something I could actually dictate, food consumed. Compounding that were the added burdens of cancer and death - two variables completely out of my hands.
I am very angry with myself. My anger at my weight gain is superseded by my anger at myself for wasting so much emotional energy with this topic. I am extraordinarily disappointed at how I treat others around me when I feel this inwardly chaotic. I transfer my frustrations at failing at my own ridiculous goal of perfection to my children. I was very unfair to them yesterday and I am still struggling with that reality this morning.
Now I am scrambling, lowering my caloric intake, drinking water by the jug full, all the while growing agitated and completely aggravated by my constant state of hunger and desire for chocolate. For what, I ask myself? To feel in control again. The irony of the statement does not escape me; I know nothing is truly under my control.
I have had seasons when I was at rest in my life, when I was not running that treadmill of constant work and control. Short-lived these seasons were, but I have lived them. Disappointingly, I am back in this pit of numbers, scrambling on my own, by my own strength to gain footing to climb out of it. I know failure is assured with this method, and yet, my sinful tendency is to solve it on my own, with my own control.
I know what I need to do, but will I do it? It is another season of brokenness and I pray that it will be the last one with this stronghold I will have to endure. I pray for the end to this maddening numbers game.
Monday, July 13, 2009
The Numbers Game, part 2
Roller coaster weight. That has been my life. Maybe the numbers don't fluctuate as much as my anxiety over them. I can map out my entire life by numbers on a scale. Every major event, every major day, I can tell you exactly what I weighed. I could probably list to you every comment ever made to me regarding my weight. Well, certainly I could do that with the negative ones.
I thought this was a normal pattern for all women until I spoke honestly with a friend. She said I might have a problem, because no, she really had no idea what she weighed at various points in her life. Therefore, my newly discovered number obsession has been swirling around in my brain lately. What is my fixation on these number? Why have I allowed them to linger and taint the most important memories I have? The battle of the scale.
Sure, I could lie and say it was really a matter of my health. I desired to be "healthy." Nope. I can blame it on society and its ridiculous images of emaciation and perfection. Sure, that played a part. But if I am going to be completely honest, I allowed it to dictate my perception of self. It is how I chose to filter what the world said, what my peers said and most importantly what that blasted scale said. I allowed that bathroom appliance to dictate to me whether I felt good about who was. I allowed a set of numbers to determine whether my memories are positive or negative at any point in time. I allowed the numbers to control me.
I believe that if you bring strongholds into the light, they just don't have the strength they had before. I want to let go of the need to "step up on the scale" every morning. And, so, for exposing myself to the world...here is my life's weight map, and all of its absurd, skewed, mentally warped perceptions:
Age.weight
9.75 Sales lady at the old Tobias clothing store told me that if I didn't watch what I ate, I would have to start shopping in the "pretty plus" department. I was in 5th grade. She should have been fired.
14.110 High school football game. A guy physically picked me up and stated oh, you must be 110 pounds. He was correct, but I was NOT going to admit to what I considered to be a heavy weight. I lied and said, no, and looked shocked.
17.118 High school graduation, beginning of college. Very insecure and described myself as "chunky." Never walked around in a bathing suit, covering myself the minute I stood up from a chair.
19.128 Sophomore year of college. A dorm mate told my friends she was "worried about my health." Went of ridiculous crash diets including the rice diet and the cabbage diet. None were successful. Roommate was bulimic with some serious image issues and I was constantly exposed to her fears and choices.
21.123 College graduation. Heading out to the Netherlands to work. Wishing I had dieted and lost some weight.
22.132 Returned from the Netherlands and although very in shape from all that biking, realized that I was heavier than when I left. A comment made to me after I returned revolved around the "fullness" of my face. It was devastating to me.
26.140 Wedding. Absolutely hated myself for not dieting, not losing weight and being my "best" for my wedding. At the same time decided that enough was enough. I would just have to enjoy this day.
27.146 Weight at first pregnancy appointment with my doctor who informed me that I was already borderline for my weight and I would need to be a little careful about what I ate. I gained 40 pounds during this pregnancy.
29. 198 At birth of second child. Serious weight gain. Painful days prior to delivery as a body that is 5'2" tall is not meant to carry nearly 200 pounds. Yes, 200 pounds.
31.120 Determined to get it off, LA Weightloss brought me back to my high school weight. I ran a 5k. Instead of anxiety and stress about being heavy, I was panicky about gaining the weight back. I discovered that I was pregnant with my third child. I was depressed as I saw all my hard work go down the drain. But, I didn't gain as much during this pregnancy and with Ansley's cancer diagnosis, it was easier to lose the baby weight.
35.113 Ansley's death. Very thin. Many people thought I had "lost too much weight." It was the only thing I could control in the months prior to her death. I just didn't eat often. It was the only thing I felt good about. Over the next three months, I packed on 10 pounds of solid chocolate binging weight.
37.120 Today. Where I am. Always in the back of my mind is the fear that I will begin to gain weight uncontrollably. When the rest of my life is spinning out of control, this is the one area I grasp to control. It seems I am always thinking...I am always happiest when I am just 3 pounds lighter.
There is a lifetime of number addiction here. Mostly it is spurred on by that square, glass digital scale on my bathroom floor. And like an addict, I will need to purge my surroundings of its existence and its temptations. Goodbye daily number check. Goodbye.
I thought this was a normal pattern for all women until I spoke honestly with a friend. She said I might have a problem, because no, she really had no idea what she weighed at various points in her life. Therefore, my newly discovered number obsession has been swirling around in my brain lately. What is my fixation on these number? Why have I allowed them to linger and taint the most important memories I have? The battle of the scale.
Sure, I could lie and say it was really a matter of my health. I desired to be "healthy." Nope. I can blame it on society and its ridiculous images of emaciation and perfection. Sure, that played a part. But if I am going to be completely honest, I allowed it to dictate my perception of self. It is how I chose to filter what the world said, what my peers said and most importantly what that blasted scale said. I allowed that bathroom appliance to dictate to me whether I felt good about who was. I allowed a set of numbers to determine whether my memories are positive or negative at any point in time. I allowed the numbers to control me.
I believe that if you bring strongholds into the light, they just don't have the strength they had before. I want to let go of the need to "step up on the scale" every morning. And, so, for exposing myself to the world...here is my life's weight map, and all of its absurd, skewed, mentally warped perceptions:
Age.weight
9.75 Sales lady at the old Tobias clothing store told me that if I didn't watch what I ate, I would have to start shopping in the "pretty plus" department. I was in 5th grade. She should have been fired.
14.110 High school football game. A guy physically picked me up and stated oh, you must be 110 pounds. He was correct, but I was NOT going to admit to what I considered to be a heavy weight. I lied and said, no, and looked shocked.
17.118 High school graduation, beginning of college. Very insecure and described myself as "chunky." Never walked around in a bathing suit, covering myself the minute I stood up from a chair.
19.128 Sophomore year of college. A dorm mate told my friends she was "worried about my health." Went of ridiculous crash diets including the rice diet and the cabbage diet. None were successful. Roommate was bulimic with some serious image issues and I was constantly exposed to her fears and choices.
21.123 College graduation. Heading out to the Netherlands to work. Wishing I had dieted and lost some weight.
22.132 Returned from the Netherlands and although very in shape from all that biking, realized that I was heavier than when I left. A comment made to me after I returned revolved around the "fullness" of my face. It was devastating to me.
26.140 Wedding. Absolutely hated myself for not dieting, not losing weight and being my "best" for my wedding. At the same time decided that enough was enough. I would just have to enjoy this day.
27.146 Weight at first pregnancy appointment with my doctor who informed me that I was already borderline for my weight and I would need to be a little careful about what I ate. I gained 40 pounds during this pregnancy.
29. 198 At birth of second child. Serious weight gain. Painful days prior to delivery as a body that is 5'2" tall is not meant to carry nearly 200 pounds. Yes, 200 pounds.
31.120 Determined to get it off, LA Weightloss brought me back to my high school weight. I ran a 5k. Instead of anxiety and stress about being heavy, I was panicky about gaining the weight back. I discovered that I was pregnant with my third child. I was depressed as I saw all my hard work go down the drain. But, I didn't gain as much during this pregnancy and with Ansley's cancer diagnosis, it was easier to lose the baby weight.
35.113 Ansley's death. Very thin. Many people thought I had "lost too much weight." It was the only thing I could control in the months prior to her death. I just didn't eat often. It was the only thing I felt good about. Over the next three months, I packed on 10 pounds of solid chocolate binging weight.
37.120 Today. Where I am. Always in the back of my mind is the fear that I will begin to gain weight uncontrollably. When the rest of my life is spinning out of control, this is the one area I grasp to control. It seems I am always thinking...I am always happiest when I am just 3 pounds lighter.
There is a lifetime of number addiction here. Mostly it is spurred on by that square, glass digital scale on my bathroom floor. And like an addict, I will need to purge my surroundings of its existence and its temptations. Goodbye daily number check. Goodbye.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Be Still My Beating Heart...
I have been listening to some long ago forgotten CDs which I discovered while cleaning out for market. One is Field's of Gold, a great one by Sting. I have the warmest, in a literal and figurative sense, memories of this CD, driving in my '87 Honda Civic to Myrtle Beach over Spring Break during my senior year of high school. There is a stretch of back logging roads along that route that during April and May is simply stunning. Both sides of the road are covered with the most ultra bright and fresh green grass fields and wild flowers. There was a heightened sense of freedom during this particular drive and I assume it was youth, the end of high school and unlimited possibilities all coming to a head. Years have passed, 20 to be exact, and I have driven that street to the point where I could nearly do it blindfolded. Everytime though, I think of that one specific trip and my friend, Debi, whenever I hear the CD or drive that route.
As I busied myself around the house this morning trying to recover from the tornado of activity that accompanied a family wedding weekend, one particular song stood out - "Be Still My Beating Heart." As I listened and sang along to the lyrics, a line, much familiar to me, stood out: "And, I wriggle like a fish caught on dry land." I found myself sinking into a bit of a melancholy place. The song continues further..."I sink like a stone that's been thrown in the ocean. My logic has drowned in a sea of emotion." I can't say what Sting meant by those words, but I inserted it into my own life and well, just didn't like the outcome.
Maybe it is mid-life. Maybe it is that my youngest child is leaving for kindergarten in August. Maybe it is that life doesn't seem to hold to have as much...what is the word I am looking for - purpose, meaning, fulfillment? Possibly? Not sure that is it. It does have meaning and purpose, it just lacks focus, lacks a clear path at the moment. My brain holds years of biblical study that gives me the answer to all of this. Yet, I am tired of trying to keep it at the forefront. My emotions are simply drowning me and I think that the life preserver with my name on it lingers just out of sight. If I could only see it, touch it, and thrive because of it.
Maybe this is what happens when you decide to stop working for perfection and give it all up to simply live freely. I mean, while running on that comfortable and well-worn performance treadmill, I was solidly focused. Albeit it was a terribly never-ending and unreachable focus, but a focus nevertheless. Now, I am in limbo between two worlds, not feeling at home in either and certainly not where I currently reside. In fact, I feel a little lost in my freedom. Isn't that interesting. If none of this daily grind (you know, the mundane) really matters, then what in the world am I doing every day? My life seems to be nothing but mundane. Sigh. Not a good day for me and it was particularly punctuated by cleaning the kitchen, folding laundry, dealing with a landscaper, taking a trip to Costco, the dry cleaners, picking the dog up from the vet, taking Jay his suit to work, taking Lily to gymnastics, picking up kids from school while listening to music that makes my skin crawl, checking homework, listening to reading, preparing for scouts, fixing and cleaning up after dinner, hauling kids to scouts, teaching 7 girls about geology (as if), and getting kids baths/ready for bed with a book and snack. When will this discontentment stop?
Lord, be still my anxiously beating heart...
As I busied myself around the house this morning trying to recover from the tornado of activity that accompanied a family wedding weekend, one particular song stood out - "Be Still My Beating Heart." As I listened and sang along to the lyrics, a line, much familiar to me, stood out: "And, I wriggle like a fish caught on dry land." I found myself sinking into a bit of a melancholy place. The song continues further..."I sink like a stone that's been thrown in the ocean. My logic has drowned in a sea of emotion." I can't say what Sting meant by those words, but I inserted it into my own life and well, just didn't like the outcome.
Maybe it is mid-life. Maybe it is that my youngest child is leaving for kindergarten in August. Maybe it is that life doesn't seem to hold to have as much...what is the word I am looking for - purpose, meaning, fulfillment? Possibly? Not sure that is it. It does have meaning and purpose, it just lacks focus, lacks a clear path at the moment. My brain holds years of biblical study that gives me the answer to all of this. Yet, I am tired of trying to keep it at the forefront. My emotions are simply drowning me and I think that the life preserver with my name on it lingers just out of sight. If I could only see it, touch it, and thrive because of it.
Maybe this is what happens when you decide to stop working for perfection and give it all up to simply live freely. I mean, while running on that comfortable and well-worn performance treadmill, I was solidly focused. Albeit it was a terribly never-ending and unreachable focus, but a focus nevertheless. Now, I am in limbo between two worlds, not feeling at home in either and certainly not where I currently reside. In fact, I feel a little lost in my freedom. Isn't that interesting. If none of this daily grind (you know, the mundane) really matters, then what in the world am I doing every day? My life seems to be nothing but mundane. Sigh. Not a good day for me and it was particularly punctuated by cleaning the kitchen, folding laundry, dealing with a landscaper, taking a trip to Costco, the dry cleaners, picking the dog up from the vet, taking Jay his suit to work, taking Lily to gymnastics, picking up kids from school while listening to music that makes my skin crawl, checking homework, listening to reading, preparing for scouts, fixing and cleaning up after dinner, hauling kids to scouts, teaching 7 girls about geology (as if), and getting kids baths/ready for bed with a book and snack. When will this discontentment stop?
Lord, be still my anxiously beating heart...
Friday, April 03, 2009
Embracing Me
Inviting someone into your home for the first time is stressful. Right or wrong, our little nest tells others about us whether in its decor, upkeep, or income level. You open your home to someone who previously only knew the "prepared for the world" you, but there is not much you can hide from someone when they are in your home. You open the front door wide open for some one to know the real you and all that goes with it - anxiety, judgments, and internal criticism.
A friend came over to my house yesterday. It was her first visit at my home. As we walked through it, I found myself doing my usual "tour guide script." The same type of chatting I have done whenever anyone comes to my house. In fact, I could tape myself and play it whenever fresh faces enter my domicile because I have repeated it over and over since we moved into it nearly 5 years ago. It is a script riddled with justifications for its contents, as in, "Oh, that mirror, I got that at Costco." My own self-defined shortcomings, as in, "Oh, this room, it is the one that I just can't make work." My own plans for improvements as in, "We have long-range plans to rework the entire laundry room area as it is like a closet where you are beaten by coats and backpacks just to get out the door." And, I usually throw into the mix these carefully selected phrases, "Well, you know it is always a work in progress," or, "You can't take it with you when you die, " or, "We have been blessed. I certainly don't feel deserving of it." Lest anyone think that I spent any money in building or furnishing my house, take any pride in the home I have created, or believe that I actually enjoy my house. Deep down, it would destroy me if I discovered anyone left my house feeling as if my life were defined by material things. Or, if I ever came across with an air of snobbery, unaware of how blessed and appreciative I truly am.
So, after we completed the obligatory tour, my friend and I sat down to talk about my writing project. Interestingly, I could not receive any compliments about my writing. Even in talking about this book project, I was nearly apologetic.
I am not a writer. I mean, history does not support this notion of being defined as a writer. I was not a keeper of volumes of journals throughout my life. A few scattered here and there, but they are mostly filled with teenage angst and my first experiences with puppy love. I have only taken one journalism course and changed majors because I didn't find any pleasure in it. I also did not enjoy the class on journalistic ethics, either, as everything is grey to me - not black and white. I had two papers in college on which were written, "You might want to get some tutoring at the Writing Center." I have never had a job where writing was the main objective. Up until now, I haven't had the time to read a pamphlet, let alone write anything. This whole writing thing is a bit of a shock to me. And yet, it is the most pleasurable outlet I have at the moment.
To admit I am even a writer means that I have to admit that I am good at writing. Admitting that I am "good" or "excel" at anything is admitting that there is something good or excellent within me. And, this is something that I have believed, falsely I might add, is not true. I have believed that I have no part, no role in anything good in my life. Quite similar to what I wrote about my house, I don't want anyone to think that I believe that I am a great writer, blessed with a eloquent vocabulary with professional editing or grammar skills (clearly the latter is NOT the case). Additionally, I am wary of judgments regarding the time spent and effort put forth in my writing. And, I don't want you to think that I might take any pride in the posts I have crafted, or believe that I actually enjoy my writing and its resulting reactions.
On the flip side, denying or dismissing this means that I am saying no to the gifts that God has given me. I am beginning to understand that humility does not mean complete dismissal of self. It means recognizing that God has given me this talent or gift and I have chosen to act upon it. Therefore, I can give God the full credit for the awakening inside of me. Yet, I can have confidence and satisfaction, and gosh do I even say this word - pride - in my choice, knowing that I am walking down the path chosen for me. At least I think I am. (Doubt, always doubt)
A quote was passed to me and I feel very compelled to share it:
A friend came over to my house yesterday. It was her first visit at my home. As we walked through it, I found myself doing my usual "tour guide script." The same type of chatting I have done whenever anyone comes to my house. In fact, I could tape myself and play it whenever fresh faces enter my domicile because I have repeated it over and over since we moved into it nearly 5 years ago. It is a script riddled with justifications for its contents, as in, "Oh, that mirror, I got that at Costco." My own self-defined shortcomings, as in, "Oh, this room, it is the one that I just can't make work." My own plans for improvements as in, "We have long-range plans to rework the entire laundry room area as it is like a closet where you are beaten by coats and backpacks just to get out the door." And, I usually throw into the mix these carefully selected phrases, "Well, you know it is always a work in progress," or, "You can't take it with you when you die, " or, "We have been blessed. I certainly don't feel deserving of it." Lest anyone think that I spent any money in building or furnishing my house, take any pride in the home I have created, or believe that I actually enjoy my house. Deep down, it would destroy me if I discovered anyone left my house feeling as if my life were defined by material things. Or, if I ever came across with an air of snobbery, unaware of how blessed and appreciative I truly am.
So, after we completed the obligatory tour, my friend and I sat down to talk about my writing project. Interestingly, I could not receive any compliments about my writing. Even in talking about this book project, I was nearly apologetic.
I am not a writer. I mean, history does not support this notion of being defined as a writer. I was not a keeper of volumes of journals throughout my life. A few scattered here and there, but they are mostly filled with teenage angst and my first experiences with puppy love. I have only taken one journalism course and changed majors because I didn't find any pleasure in it. I also did not enjoy the class on journalistic ethics, either, as everything is grey to me - not black and white. I had two papers in college on which were written, "You might want to get some tutoring at the Writing Center." I have never had a job where writing was the main objective. Up until now, I haven't had the time to read a pamphlet, let alone write anything. This whole writing thing is a bit of a shock to me. And yet, it is the most pleasurable outlet I have at the moment.
To admit I am even a writer means that I have to admit that I am good at writing. Admitting that I am "good" or "excel" at anything is admitting that there is something good or excellent within me. And, this is something that I have believed, falsely I might add, is not true. I have believed that I have no part, no role in anything good in my life. Quite similar to what I wrote about my house, I don't want anyone to think that I believe that I am a great writer, blessed with a eloquent vocabulary with professional editing or grammar skills (clearly the latter is NOT the case). Additionally, I am wary of judgments regarding the time spent and effort put forth in my writing. And, I don't want you to think that I might take any pride in the posts I have crafted, or believe that I actually enjoy my writing and its resulting reactions.
On the flip side, denying or dismissing this means that I am saying no to the gifts that God has given me. I am beginning to understand that humility does not mean complete dismissal of self. It means recognizing that God has given me this talent or gift and I have chosen to act upon it. Therefore, I can give God the full credit for the awakening inside of me. Yet, I can have confidence and satisfaction, and gosh do I even say this word - pride - in my choice, knowing that I am walking down the path chosen for me. At least I think I am. (Doubt, always doubt)
A quote was passed to me and I feel very compelled to share it:
“It is in the quiet crucible of our personal private sufferings
that our noblest dreams are born and Gods greatest gifts are given,
and often given in compensation for what we’ve been through.”
- Wintley Phipps
I think there will be further explanation of how timely, relevant and accurate this quote is in the book. But for now, I will leave you to ponder on it, your gifts and your noblest dreams. Oh, and while you are at it, click here to complete my questionnaire. I need you!Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Sometimes, It's Personal
I have no doubt that yesterday's post made some readers uncomfortable. In fact, I am sure within the nearly 80 readers yesterday, someone thought to themselves, "Why would she expose herself to the world like that?" Or, "Why would she want people to know so much about her personally?" Better yet, "It has been two years, shouldn't she be over this now?" "How long is she going to go on about this?"
The fact is, many of us have had similar experiences with death - sudden, sharp, deeply painful and life altering. You can read through my blog in January and February about the painful grief that I was revisiting, two years after the fact. It was a complete shock to me that the tears, crying, loss, loneliness and sense of abandonment rivaled that of the first month after her passing. I believe that other circumstances in my life brought this unfinished business of grieving to the surface at this time. A catalyst, if you will, to force me to toil through it. Grief is a never ending, in my experience. Maybe it goes away for periods of time, but it will always rotate back into play.
It doesn't take much to bring back just how big of a loss it is to my life. A friend was with her sister at a women's retreat and their interaction was bittersweet to me. I have needed a permanent helper with my scout group and realized this week, that she would have been my co-leader. My (step)brother is getting married in May and my (step)sister is getting married in June - celebrations at which she should have been in attendance.
Yet, at times I don't feel like I can share that with anyone. Why? Well, society says suck it up and deal. Life moves on even though we may not be ready to move with it. Even our employers think we should be fully functional after 2 or 3 days. Every one has their own stories, their own grief, their own lives...who has time to sit and listen to my sad song just one more time. Mine is but one of millions. Mine is not that special.
This is also not a call to the pity party, though Lord knows I can throw the best of them, complete with hats, streamers and a big ol' cake I devour on my own. And you can waller along not living life only so long. It will creep up on you and then you will be forced to deal with more than just your grief. Unfortunately, I speak from experience.
However, in my quest for transparency and authenticity, I find that the more I let it all hangout there, the good, the bad, the hilarious and the sad, the more connections and support I receive. People have a chance to know the real me and I am not afraid of that anymore. This means exposing my heart to those that know me intimately as well as complete strangers. People need and desire to know that others have had similar experiences, similar pains, even similar joys. It makes us all feel more normal. It gives us validation. It makes us feel that what we have endured has not been for naught.
It also helps to see how others cope. We must keep the mindset that we have all been created by a Creator with our own set of gifts, skill sets, and experiences. But in celebrating these differences, we can find strength in how God has woven Himself into these events to bring a greater good. We can find strength in knowing there is a bigger picture which we can not see. We can find strength in knowing that a finality of dirt and worms just isn't all there is.
A post like Remember the End, selfishly serves as therapy for me. The million-pound burden on my shoulders was lifted when I wrote it. The story was finally out, no longer at the surface in a constant state of bubbling. Stories like these bring people together, to laugh, to cry, to work through their own life's stories. And, maybe they draw strength to face their own giants.
So, yeah, it might have been a little too close for comfort, full with emotion and transparency. Highs, lows and in between...sometimes, it just needs to be personal.
The fact is, many of us have had similar experiences with death - sudden, sharp, deeply painful and life altering. You can read through my blog in January and February about the painful grief that I was revisiting, two years after the fact. It was a complete shock to me that the tears, crying, loss, loneliness and sense of abandonment rivaled that of the first month after her passing. I believe that other circumstances in my life brought this unfinished business of grieving to the surface at this time. A catalyst, if you will, to force me to toil through it. Grief is a never ending, in my experience. Maybe it goes away for periods of time, but it will always rotate back into play.
It doesn't take much to bring back just how big of a loss it is to my life. A friend was with her sister at a women's retreat and their interaction was bittersweet to me. I have needed a permanent helper with my scout group and realized this week, that she would have been my co-leader. My (step)brother is getting married in May and my (step)sister is getting married in June - celebrations at which she should have been in attendance.
Yet, at times I don't feel like I can share that with anyone. Why? Well, society says suck it up and deal. Life moves on even though we may not be ready to move with it. Even our employers think we should be fully functional after 2 or 3 days. Every one has their own stories, their own grief, their own lives...who has time to sit and listen to my sad song just one more time. Mine is but one of millions. Mine is not that special.
This is also not a call to the pity party, though Lord knows I can throw the best of them, complete with hats, streamers and a big ol' cake I devour on my own. And you can waller along not living life only so long. It will creep up on you and then you will be forced to deal with more than just your grief. Unfortunately, I speak from experience.
However, in my quest for transparency and authenticity, I find that the more I let it all hangout there, the good, the bad, the hilarious and the sad, the more connections and support I receive. People have a chance to know the real me and I am not afraid of that anymore. This means exposing my heart to those that know me intimately as well as complete strangers. People need and desire to know that others have had similar experiences, similar pains, even similar joys. It makes us all feel more normal. It gives us validation. It makes us feel that what we have endured has not been for naught.
It also helps to see how others cope. We must keep the mindset that we have all been created by a Creator with our own set of gifts, skill sets, and experiences. But in celebrating these differences, we can find strength in how God has woven Himself into these events to bring a greater good. We can find strength in knowing there is a bigger picture which we can not see. We can find strength in knowing that a finality of dirt and worms just isn't all there is.
A post like Remember the End, selfishly serves as therapy for me. The million-pound burden on my shoulders was lifted when I wrote it. The story was finally out, no longer at the surface in a constant state of bubbling. Stories like these bring people together, to laugh, to cry, to work through their own life's stories. And, maybe they draw strength to face their own giants.
So, yeah, it might have been a little too close for comfort, full with emotion and transparency. Highs, lows and in between...sometimes, it just needs to be personal.
Saturday, March 07, 2009
Definition
"The more you run, the more you are a runner."
I imagine you can insert any hobby, sport, occupation in that quote and feel confident in its accuracy. Definitely, there are varying levels of success in that quote. Some are better runners than others. But what makes someone a runner? Is it because they diligently take a jog every other day? Is it that they can survive a minimum 5K without collapsing? I believe it is all self-defined.
Can the same be said about a writer? The more I write, the more I am a writer? I am doubtful. I went to a party this weekend to celebrate a pending family marriage. Most of the guests were people of my father's generation. People I had not seen in over 10 years, since my own wedding. The natural flow of chit-chatty conversation brought forth the question - so, what do you do? What are you doing now? And you know what? I didn't really have an answer. I mean, I know I am a mom. I know I am a wife, but yet, that didn't really seem to be a satisfying answer.
I am cycling through a period of change. Clearly, I am being asked to relinquish a heavy amount of control I have fought to constantly administer throughout my life. And, it stinks. Really, really stinks. It makes my life undefinable at present. I always had control of that definition and now I don't. I am teetering on this razor sharp edge between two worlds and it seems that I just keep getting little nicks and cuts. For someone who has drawn every bit of her energy and drive from this type of behavior, it has left me dizzy, nauseous and a bit crazed. Doesn't that sound appealing?
In the meantime, you might see me here a little less often. I'll admit that my computer time has taken its toll and I think I am missing out a bit on lessons I need to learn in the environment around me.
I imagine you can insert any hobby, sport, occupation in that quote and feel confident in its accuracy. Definitely, there are varying levels of success in that quote. Some are better runners than others. But what makes someone a runner? Is it because they diligently take a jog every other day? Is it that they can survive a minimum 5K without collapsing? I believe it is all self-defined.
Can the same be said about a writer? The more I write, the more I am a writer? I am doubtful. I went to a party this weekend to celebrate a pending family marriage. Most of the guests were people of my father's generation. People I had not seen in over 10 years, since my own wedding. The natural flow of chit-chatty conversation brought forth the question - so, what do you do? What are you doing now? And you know what? I didn't really have an answer. I mean, I know I am a mom. I know I am a wife, but yet, that didn't really seem to be a satisfying answer.
I am cycling through a period of change. Clearly, I am being asked to relinquish a heavy amount of control I have fought to constantly administer throughout my life. And, it stinks. Really, really stinks. It makes my life undefinable at present. I always had control of that definition and now I don't. I am teetering on this razor sharp edge between two worlds and it seems that I just keep getting little nicks and cuts. For someone who has drawn every bit of her energy and drive from this type of behavior, it has left me dizzy, nauseous and a bit crazed. Doesn't that sound appealing?
In the meantime, you might see me here a little less often. I'll admit that my computer time has taken its toll and I think I am missing out a bit on lessons I need to learn in the environment around me.
Friday, March 06, 2009
Things That Consume Me
Not trying to be narcistict, but I think a lot. Probably way too much. I mull, consider, meditate, toss, turn, work, brood, analyze, deliberate, reflect, ponder, and stew things until frankly they are all-consuming at times. I would like to believe that it is because I am a "creative" type, but, the more probable reality is that I am obsessive. My brain is constantly putting together connections between the experiences and information that comes into my atmosphere. I thought if I write out this list then maybe I will be able to de-clutter my brain and I become a productive member of society...at least for a day or so. Here is what has been on my mind lately:
1. Really misinterpreted lyrics to songs. When I was little, I thought the song, "Jet Airliner" by Steve Miller really said this: "We Go Jam at the Diner." Never mind the rest of the song makes NO sense in relation to that complete failure on my part to actually hear and interpret correctly. Why was I thinking that this morning? Because I heard the song, "She's a Bad Mamma Jamma" after taking the kids to school. Figuring I had more mistaken lyrics in my head, I came home and googled it. Nope. I have it right. But what in the world is a "Mamma Jamma"? Obviously, in his mind, Carl Carlton sees this as a "good" thing as a mamma jamma has all the things a man likes. Worldly? Yes.
2. Why is it ok to not return phone calls and emails? I need to let this one go. I am fiercely loyal and have learned that throughout my life, I cannot discern healthy and unhealthy relationships unlike most folks who can. Therefore, I tend to stay in relationships that are destructive and unhealthy for me as a result. I always need more closure, to have nothing left unsaid. For once, I need to digest that enough has been said. Time for strength and resolve.
3. Costumes, costumes, costumes. I worked like a woman possessed on Sadie's "Cindy Loo Who" costume for Dr. Seuss day at school. I scored a fiber optic Hannah Montanna wig at WalMart on clearance for $3. Taking a coat hanger I wove the hair into braids and ultimately into that cone shape on top. There are two takes on the Cindy costume - retro cartoon Cindy with those little antenna and pink Mortisha Adams pink dress or Jim Carrey movie Cindy with the funky hair and clothes. We went with the latter. Jay took a pic of me wearing the wig. With my mustard yellow sweater vest, I looked like something slave girl #2 would wear out of Star Trek. Next up...Ethan's costume as... get this...Wilbur Wright of the Wright Brothers. All I can think of is a coat, knickers, bow tie and pipe. I know he won't be caught dead in knickers like I fashioned in 5th grade (thank you, mom), but maybe I can find a bow tie at WalMart on sale.
4. Do I ever want to diligently work on getting a few of my pieces ready to send to publishers? Tough call. My pleasure at the moment is this random, thoughtless writing. Where is my motivation? Where is my muse? Missing for the moment. Or, is this like Rock Band? Just because I play the songs on the Hard level, doesn't mean I can become a drummer.
5. Is everyone on some sort of depression/anxiety medication? I ask this honestly. I think almost every mom I know is taking a pill - Zoloft, Wellbutrin, Xanax, etc. I am not judging anyone as I have partaken at one time, but are we collectively that miserable? What is different from our mothers' lives that makes our emotions totally unpredictable and whacky? Were they just better at hiding it? Can we chalk it up to busy, demanding lives or even simpler, too much hormone in our milk? Please don't think I am judging, as there is certainly a time and place, but the fact that each of these meds have their own websites strikes a dischordant nerve with me.
6. Guilt. Tons and heaps of it. Some misplaced and false and some well-deserved. First and foremost is the RUSH gym membership whose payment is drafted from our checking account each month and with whom I have a ridiculously long contract. In fact, I know I should have run right out the door the minute they presented it to me. But, I didn't because this time it was going to be different. Ha! It has not been utilized since hmmm, October...maybe? I have NO excuses. The kid are in school every morning and even if they weren't they have free childcare. I even have friends that go there. Every month around the 14th (the day the draft takes place), the guilt comes anew. Why don't I just go? Guilt. Definitely a list I should make separately.
7. Food. Particularly Doritos. I haven't purchaed them in years. Yet, yesterday, under the flimsy and thinly veiled excuse of purchasing them for my niece and nephew who are visiting this weekend, I grabbed a bag of Doritos Collision. It combines 2 flavors in 1 bag. In this case Chipotle Ranch and Zesty Taco. Did you know their slogan is, "Prepare to take snacking to a whole new level"? Yeah, I hear ya Frito Lay, a new level of addiction! What do these people put into these chips and cheese dust that draws you in like crack cocaine? Check out the link I included...there is definitely something sinister there. Maybe now I can view them in the light they should be...the predawing of the anticrhist. You have probably guessed by now that my niece and nephew will not be able to partake in the eating of said Doritos, because I finished off the bag this morning.
8. Multiple posts on this topic and it still haunts me. Ironing. Loathsome. But today, necessary. Or is it? What if I just didn't do it?
9. Read this line. Wish I had written it. The worst of our world at the moment: " the celebration of celebrity and novelty over authenticity and seriousness." Marinate on that for a moment.
10. A random selection of other thoughts without detail...Ethan's possible ADD, my weight and healthy eating, picking up Lily on time today, the curious little piles of dirt all throughout the kitchen and dining room, massive colony of ants found in the dining room attracted to Dixie's snacks, calling the lawyer about stock set-up issue for our company, the 10 reasons I need to go to Greensboro for errands, my grandfather's health as he is still in the hospital, how my grandmother will cope if he dies, the "letter" I must read next week to my counselor, wondering how it will go with my niece and nephew this weekend and what they have endured since the last time I saw them, what I would do for a massage and pedicure. I could go on and on and on. Actually, is this anxiety? Let me check out that Xanax again...
What consumes you today?
1. Really misinterpreted lyrics to songs. When I was little, I thought the song, "Jet Airliner" by Steve Miller really said this: "We Go Jam at the Diner." Never mind the rest of the song makes NO sense in relation to that complete failure on my part to actually hear and interpret correctly. Why was I thinking that this morning? Because I heard the song, "She's a Bad Mamma Jamma" after taking the kids to school. Figuring I had more mistaken lyrics in my head, I came home and googled it. Nope. I have it right. But what in the world is a "Mamma Jamma"? Obviously, in his mind, Carl Carlton sees this as a "good" thing as a mamma jamma has all the things a man likes. Worldly? Yes.
2. Why is it ok to not return phone calls and emails? I need to let this one go. I am fiercely loyal and have learned that throughout my life, I cannot discern healthy and unhealthy relationships unlike most folks who can. Therefore, I tend to stay in relationships that are destructive and unhealthy for me as a result. I always need more closure, to have nothing left unsaid. For once, I need to digest that enough has been said. Time for strength and resolve.
3. Costumes, costumes, costumes. I worked like a woman possessed on Sadie's "Cindy Loo Who" costume for Dr. Seuss day at school. I scored a fiber optic Hannah Montanna wig at WalMart on clearance for $3. Taking a coat hanger I wove the hair into braids and ultimately into that cone shape on top. There are two takes on the Cindy costume - retro cartoon Cindy with those little antenna and pink Mortisha Adams pink dress or Jim Carrey movie Cindy with the funky hair and clothes. We went with the latter. Jay took a pic of me wearing the wig. With my mustard yellow sweater vest, I looked like something slave girl #2 would wear out of Star Trek. Next up...Ethan's costume as... get this...Wilbur Wright of the Wright Brothers. All I can think of is a coat, knickers, bow tie and pipe. I know he won't be caught dead in knickers like I fashioned in 5th grade (thank you, mom), but maybe I can find a bow tie at WalMart on sale.
4. Do I ever want to diligently work on getting a few of my pieces ready to send to publishers? Tough call. My pleasure at the moment is this random, thoughtless writing. Where is my motivation? Where is my muse? Missing for the moment. Or, is this like Rock Band? Just because I play the songs on the Hard level, doesn't mean I can become a drummer.
5. Is everyone on some sort of depression/anxiety medication? I ask this honestly. I think almost every mom I know is taking a pill - Zoloft, Wellbutrin, Xanax, etc. I am not judging anyone as I have partaken at one time, but are we collectively that miserable? What is different from our mothers' lives that makes our emotions totally unpredictable and whacky? Were they just better at hiding it? Can we chalk it up to busy, demanding lives or even simpler, too much hormone in our milk? Please don't think I am judging, as there is certainly a time and place, but the fact that each of these meds have their own websites strikes a dischordant nerve with me.
6. Guilt. Tons and heaps of it. Some misplaced and false and some well-deserved. First and foremost is the RUSH gym membership whose payment is drafted from our checking account each month and with whom I have a ridiculously long contract. In fact, I know I should have run right out the door the minute they presented it to me. But, I didn't because this time it was going to be different. Ha! It has not been utilized since hmmm, October...maybe? I have NO excuses. The kid are in school every morning and even if they weren't they have free childcare. I even have friends that go there. Every month around the 14th (the day the draft takes place), the guilt comes anew. Why don't I just go? Guilt. Definitely a list I should make separately.
7. Food. Particularly Doritos. I haven't purchaed them in years. Yet, yesterday, under the flimsy and thinly veiled excuse of purchasing them for my niece and nephew who are visiting this weekend, I grabbed a bag of Doritos Collision. It combines 2 flavors in 1 bag. In this case Chipotle Ranch and Zesty Taco. Did you know their slogan is, "Prepare to take snacking to a whole new level"? Yeah, I hear ya Frito Lay, a new level of addiction! What do these people put into these chips and cheese dust that draws you in like crack cocaine? Check out the link I included...there is definitely something sinister there. Maybe now I can view them in the light they should be...the predawing of the anticrhist. You have probably guessed by now that my niece and nephew will not be able to partake in the eating of said Doritos, because I finished off the bag this morning.
8. Multiple posts on this topic and it still haunts me. Ironing. Loathsome. But today, necessary. Or is it? What if I just didn't do it?
9. Read this line. Wish I had written it. The worst of our world at the moment: " the celebration of celebrity and novelty over authenticity and seriousness." Marinate on that for a moment.
10. A random selection of other thoughts without detail...Ethan's possible ADD, my weight and healthy eating, picking up Lily on time today, the curious little piles of dirt all throughout the kitchen and dining room, massive colony of ants found in the dining room attracted to Dixie's snacks, calling the lawyer about stock set-up issue for our company, the 10 reasons I need to go to Greensboro for errands, my grandfather's health as he is still in the hospital, how my grandmother will cope if he dies, the "letter" I must read next week to my counselor, wondering how it will go with my niece and nephew this weekend and what they have endured since the last time I saw them, what I would do for a massage and pedicure. I could go on and on and on. Actually, is this anxiety? Let me check out that Xanax again...
What consumes you today?
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
Life cycle
Have you ever listened to the sound of tennis shoes in the dryer? I mean, really listened? Thump. Tha-thump. Da-da-dump. Banging and thumping around? Slightly unnerving and completely nonrhythmic. At times you think they have hit their mark, creating a steady beat and pace. And then, something trips them up and they go right back to the slamming and clashing against the drum of the dryer.
I listened to this noise for about 30 minutes today and recognized that my life has been a bit like banging around a hot, uncomfortable place lately. Every time I turn around it seems that there is another bump to crash into. As the hot air is forced through me, I am enduring bruises in order to mold me into what I am supposed to be. But that is life, right?
Strangely, it was a comforting sound. I realized that like the dryer cycle, this too shall pass. It won't last forever. The final buzzer of this cycle will sound. It won't last forever. Then, I will be cleaner, better and ready to hit the ground running.
I listened to this noise for about 30 minutes today and recognized that my life has been a bit like banging around a hot, uncomfortable place lately. Every time I turn around it seems that there is another bump to crash into. As the hot air is forced through me, I am enduring bruises in order to mold me into what I am supposed to be. But that is life, right?
Strangely, it was a comforting sound. I realized that like the dryer cycle, this too shall pass. It won't last forever. The final buzzer of this cycle will sound. It won't last forever. Then, I will be cleaner, better and ready to hit the ground running.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Give it Away Part 2
And I quote:
"I ask...God forgive me. I am ready and willing, in prayer and meditation, to give it all away for You."
What the heck was I thinking writing that? Not that it was insincere, because I meant every word at the time I wrote it. But, did I really think through the possible ramifications of that statement? Ummmm....no!
As evident in my blog posts and other writings over the last couple of months, I have been put to the fire, tested, drawn out, worked over, revealed, pushed, and I might just go so far as to us the big "s" word. I have suffered. I thought it just couldn't get any worse, and frankly the last couple of weeks I appeared to rebound. I likened it to a faucet that was abruptly turned off. All the gunk coming at me was shut-off like a switch. Life moved back into its routine and rhythm and I had a brief moment of peace. And, then, I had to go write something like that.
Now, I know this hasn't been a physical suffering, at least not at age 37. Only a fraction would even notice that all of this cesspool has been churning inside me. I have learned well and fast that suffering can never compared. And, always, I mean always you can find someone that is "suffering" more more than you. But in my own life, this is the low of lows. The challenge of challenges. The reveal and pain of reveals and pains. And so, to not say it is suffering for me would be denying all that I am dealing with. I am done with denial.
I like to stuff things down. I am a stuffer. Well, maybe not completely, but on the really painful stuff, oh yeah. It is easy as pie to cram it into a box, superglue it and leave in the back recess of your mind. You know, it can sit there for years, not bothering anyone. At least you have yourself convinced it is gone, over with, done. But actually, it is oozing out of that little box and slowly infiltrating other parts of your life. What you don't realize is how that goo starts crawling and creeping until everything in your brain, your experiences, your relationships - ALL of it is tainted by it. In the end, you can't view anything you are connected to without those slime-covered glasses. And, because you have to wear those glasses every day, you have now bought all the lies - hook, line and sinker.
Yeah, I know all the lines. Time will heal. God is with you. He won't give you more than you can handle (which is not in the bible, by the way). He will use this to grow you, etc. etc. etc. Well, at the moment, I think I have had all the growth that I can deal with for a while. Maybe this is blasphemous and I don't mean for it to be. I am just being very honest and true to what I am feeling.
Frankly, I am not finding much comfort in this dark cavern where I find myself residing. It's going to be a long, long road out of this place. At least He has made it very, very clear that the timing is right for all of this. And, I know He is providing the flashlight for the way out. But, it is still very scary. I can't see the end, only what is right in front of me. I keep tripping and stumbling over rocks, groping for something to hold onto and everything seems to covered in that cold slime from my past. Did I really give it all away for this? Oh, I am ready for the end of this journey!
"I ask...God forgive me. I am ready and willing, in prayer and meditation, to give it all away for You."
What the heck was I thinking writing that? Not that it was insincere, because I meant every word at the time I wrote it. But, did I really think through the possible ramifications of that statement? Ummmm....no!
As evident in my blog posts and other writings over the last couple of months, I have been put to the fire, tested, drawn out, worked over, revealed, pushed, and I might just go so far as to us the big "s" word. I have suffered. I thought it just couldn't get any worse, and frankly the last couple of weeks I appeared to rebound. I likened it to a faucet that was abruptly turned off. All the gunk coming at me was shut-off like a switch. Life moved back into its routine and rhythm and I had a brief moment of peace. And, then, I had to go write something like that.
Now, I know this hasn't been a physical suffering, at least not at age 37. Only a fraction would even notice that all of this cesspool has been churning inside me. I have learned well and fast that suffering can never compared. And, always, I mean always you can find someone that is "suffering" more more than you. But in my own life, this is the low of lows. The challenge of challenges. The reveal and pain of reveals and pains. And so, to not say it is suffering for me would be denying all that I am dealing with. I am done with denial.
I like to stuff things down. I am a stuffer. Well, maybe not completely, but on the really painful stuff, oh yeah. It is easy as pie to cram it into a box, superglue it and leave in the back recess of your mind. You know, it can sit there for years, not bothering anyone. At least you have yourself convinced it is gone, over with, done. But actually, it is oozing out of that little box and slowly infiltrating other parts of your life. What you don't realize is how that goo starts crawling and creeping until everything in your brain, your experiences, your relationships - ALL of it is tainted by it. In the end, you can't view anything you are connected to without those slime-covered glasses. And, because you have to wear those glasses every day, you have now bought all the lies - hook, line and sinker.
Yeah, I know all the lines. Time will heal. God is with you. He won't give you more than you can handle (which is not in the bible, by the way). He will use this to grow you, etc. etc. etc. Well, at the moment, I think I have had all the growth that I can deal with for a while. Maybe this is blasphemous and I don't mean for it to be. I am just being very honest and true to what I am feeling.
Frankly, I am not finding much comfort in this dark cavern where I find myself residing. It's going to be a long, long road out of this place. At least He has made it very, very clear that the timing is right for all of this. And, I know He is providing the flashlight for the way out. But, it is still very scary. I can't see the end, only what is right in front of me. I keep tripping and stumbling over rocks, groping for something to hold onto and everything seems to covered in that cold slime from my past. Did I really give it all away for this? Oh, I am ready for the end of this journey!
Blessings
Although it seems like yesterday that I did a "blessings in my life" post, life has thrown me an incredible curve ball and I am inclined to do it again.
1) Our business continues to grow in a year of job loss, economic downturn and dismal news. CNN could take a lesson and NOT go to commercial break with the following line, "Back in a moment with more grim stories." Ours is a niche market that actually does as well in down times as in up. But still, I salute my hard-working, stressed to the max husband, who slaves at this business from the moment he wakes to the moment he goes to sleep.
2) We are striving to play together as a family again. It takes serious planning and effort to do this. We joined the YWCA in town and have made the commitment to go once during the weekend and once during the week, together, all 5 of us, swimming. It has brought laughter and smiles. And, we all love the feeling of getting the blood flowing again in the form of exercise. Slothful weekend living...BE GONE!
3) We are going skiing this weekend. Right now, there are several things that do not bode well for this trip. It is supposed to rain, not snow, most of the weekend. The family that is going with us has sick children - one very sick one, too. And, without going into too many details, I am not quite mentally focused either. But, I will be thankful because of the opportunity and know that whatever happens, well, is supposed to happen. We are going as a family. It will be fun.
4) My little grandfather, in the latter stages of Alzheimer's, is holding his own in the hospital with a bout of pneumonia. I haven't seen him mutter a noise in a while, nor have his eyes open. I am thankful that when I went to visit him this morning, he opened his eyes, looked at me and made the attempt to speak. It was completely unintelligible, but I would like to believe he was saying hello, asking what I had been up to and complimenting little Lily who had accompanied me.
5) A reconnect with a friend of Ansley's in college brought me joy this week.
6) That I have friends far and near who I love and who love me.
7) Despite what I feel is a day of reckoning for me, that I can see glimpses of His mark all over it.
8) Noggin. I know, I am reaching here to put a tv channel in my list of blessings, but when you are mentally preoccupied, at least there is something your child can watch that she loves and you feel ok about. I will declare that their slogan, "It's like preschool on television," is a farce, but hey, it does make it a bit more palatable.
9) Ridiculously large volcano-shaped chocolate brownie (3 packages worth), covered with thick, rich chocolate icing, and snow-white icing peak. We won it at the cub scouts' dessert auction. Each time I walk by it on the kitchen counter, I take a bite with the fork that rests permanently on the side of the platter.
10) TobyMac. He speaks to my heart these days. I took E & S to Winter Jam last Saturday night. It was their first concert. He was the headliner. Some time ago, I think that man walked in a pair of shoes that seem to be perfectly fitted for me these days. I am thankful for his obedience to sing for Him. And thus, he is a blessing me.
Bonus blessing...this is my 200th post! A milestone, I believe, for me.
I could stand to hear how you are thankful for what is in your life - no matter how trivial it may seem. I need some other perspectives, please.
1) Our business continues to grow in a year of job loss, economic downturn and dismal news. CNN could take a lesson and NOT go to commercial break with the following line, "Back in a moment with more grim stories." Ours is a niche market that actually does as well in down times as in up. But still, I salute my hard-working, stressed to the max husband, who slaves at this business from the moment he wakes to the moment he goes to sleep.
2) We are striving to play together as a family again. It takes serious planning and effort to do this. We joined the YWCA in town and have made the commitment to go once during the weekend and once during the week, together, all 5 of us, swimming. It has brought laughter and smiles. And, we all love the feeling of getting the blood flowing again in the form of exercise. Slothful weekend living...BE GONE!
3) We are going skiing this weekend. Right now, there are several things that do not bode well for this trip. It is supposed to rain, not snow, most of the weekend. The family that is going with us has sick children - one very sick one, too. And, without going into too many details, I am not quite mentally focused either. But, I will be thankful because of the opportunity and know that whatever happens, well, is supposed to happen. We are going as a family. It will be fun.
4) My little grandfather, in the latter stages of Alzheimer's, is holding his own in the hospital with a bout of pneumonia. I haven't seen him mutter a noise in a while, nor have his eyes open. I am thankful that when I went to visit him this morning, he opened his eyes, looked at me and made the attempt to speak. It was completely unintelligible, but I would like to believe he was saying hello, asking what I had been up to and complimenting little Lily who had accompanied me.
5) A reconnect with a friend of Ansley's in college brought me joy this week.
6) That I have friends far and near who I love and who love me.
7) Despite what I feel is a day of reckoning for me, that I can see glimpses of His mark all over it.
8) Noggin. I know, I am reaching here to put a tv channel in my list of blessings, but when you are mentally preoccupied, at least there is something your child can watch that she loves and you feel ok about. I will declare that their slogan, "It's like preschool on television," is a farce, but hey, it does make it a bit more palatable.
9) Ridiculously large volcano-shaped chocolate brownie (3 packages worth), covered with thick, rich chocolate icing, and snow-white icing peak. We won it at the cub scouts' dessert auction. Each time I walk by it on the kitchen counter, I take a bite with the fork that rests permanently on the side of the platter.
10) TobyMac. He speaks to my heart these days. I took E & S to Winter Jam last Saturday night. It was their first concert. He was the headliner. Some time ago, I think that man walked in a pair of shoes that seem to be perfectly fitted for me these days. I am thankful for his obedience to sing for Him. And thus, he is a blessing me.
Bonus blessing...this is my 200th post! A milestone, I believe, for me.
I could stand to hear how you are thankful for what is in your life - no matter how trivial it may seem. I need some other perspectives, please.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Give It Away
A friend's father passed away last summer. It was after a long, drawn-out and painful battle with pancreatic cancer. He spent the last 6 months simply wasting away. Her father remarried many years ago to a lovely woman. And, for the most part the entire family got along quite amicably. That is, until he died.
What seems to be at the heart of the disagreement is that her father left everything to his new wife. Now, let me make this very clear, my friend and her two siblings could care less about money or even the bulk of the possessions. However, they want something, a small trinket of their father to remember him by. Additionally, these items might consist of birthday gifts, possessions that were directly linked to their life before she entered the picture and or even connected to his genealogy which should have no value to her. And yet, she is completely unwilling to part with anything, and certainly not these few pieces requested by my friend and her family.
I pondered this predicament. It makes me very sad for all of them. But it also brought to mind what I am unwilling to let go. What am I holding on to for some misplaced security or simply out of fear that should conjure up the same feelings of sadness about the state of my own soul?
In my early walk with Christianity, part of my hold out on believing in Jesus was that I felt I had to give up my old life. All the things that I held dear were now against the law, or so I thought. And, I wasn't ready to let them go. Life was not going to be enjoyable. I started my walk on some ridiculous tight rope of piety. But, as I grew in my faith, I began to understand how unimportant these things were to God. And, how much more important relationships are. When I recognized the traps of performance I jumped off the tight rope, landed in the net and started walking on solid ground. It was painless and superbly easy. As Paul says in Philippians, "But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things."
My advice to my friend was to just give it more time. She should make a kind request to her father's wife to please not dispose of his things without giving the children a chance to pilfer through. She may not know of a special memory tied to an item. And, for my friend, as time passes, the significance of the clock, the photo, the books, will diminish. I am certain that as the grief is dealt with, it will be easier for his wife to give it away, too.
I encourage each of us to look deeper into ourselves to what we are clutching so desperately to that is of this world. Possibly we are holding onto something that we aren't fully aware of its existence. It is so ingrained and embedded from years of this practice or behavior, we don't know it at all.
Like an onion, the outer layers of ourselves are dry and brittle, easy to peel and discard. In fact, they almost come off themselves. The early years of believing are like that, I think. Easy transformation, little knowledge. But as you get closer and closer to the heart of the onion, the layers are tighter, tougher, more compacted and unified to the core.
Somewhere over the last year, I reached a point where I thought, well, I have dealt with a lot of those transgressions and the sins that held me hostage. Those chains don't hold me anymore. I am in pretty good shape. And then, God used people and circumstances to force the examination of layers around my heart once again. Those layers that separate me from the fullness of His love and grace.
I have walked a few years as a believer, some 12-13 years. As I journey this road, I have discovered that to relinquish more and more of myself is increasingly difficult. Rather than deal head-on with what God brought into the light, I chose to walk away. I found myself trying to find those old peels, searching through the stinking filth of the wastebasket because it was just a bit more comfortable than facing the truest part of myself.
But there is no walking, skipping, or running away. Those old peels will never feel good again. I ask...God forgive me. I am ready and willing, in prayer and meditation, to give it all away for You.
What seems to be at the heart of the disagreement is that her father left everything to his new wife. Now, let me make this very clear, my friend and her two siblings could care less about money or even the bulk of the possessions. However, they want something, a small trinket of their father to remember him by. Additionally, these items might consist of birthday gifts, possessions that were directly linked to their life before she entered the picture and or even connected to his genealogy which should have no value to her. And yet, she is completely unwilling to part with anything, and certainly not these few pieces requested by my friend and her family.
I pondered this predicament. It makes me very sad for all of them. But it also brought to mind what I am unwilling to let go. What am I holding on to for some misplaced security or simply out of fear that should conjure up the same feelings of sadness about the state of my own soul?
In my early walk with Christianity, part of my hold out on believing in Jesus was that I felt I had to give up my old life. All the things that I held dear were now against the law, or so I thought. And, I wasn't ready to let them go. Life was not going to be enjoyable. I started my walk on some ridiculous tight rope of piety. But, as I grew in my faith, I began to understand how unimportant these things were to God. And, how much more important relationships are. When I recognized the traps of performance I jumped off the tight rope, landed in the net and started walking on solid ground. It was painless and superbly easy. As Paul says in Philippians, "But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things."
My advice to my friend was to just give it more time. She should make a kind request to her father's wife to please not dispose of his things without giving the children a chance to pilfer through. She may not know of a special memory tied to an item. And, for my friend, as time passes, the significance of the clock, the photo, the books, will diminish. I am certain that as the grief is dealt with, it will be easier for his wife to give it away, too.
I encourage each of us to look deeper into ourselves to what we are clutching so desperately to that is of this world. Possibly we are holding onto something that we aren't fully aware of its existence. It is so ingrained and embedded from years of this practice or behavior, we don't know it at all.
Like an onion, the outer layers of ourselves are dry and brittle, easy to peel and discard. In fact, they almost come off themselves. The early years of believing are like that, I think. Easy transformation, little knowledge. But as you get closer and closer to the heart of the onion, the layers are tighter, tougher, more compacted and unified to the core.
Somewhere over the last year, I reached a point where I thought, well, I have dealt with a lot of those transgressions and the sins that held me hostage. Those chains don't hold me anymore. I am in pretty good shape. And then, God used people and circumstances to force the examination of layers around my heart once again. Those layers that separate me from the fullness of His love and grace.
I have walked a few years as a believer, some 12-13 years. As I journey this road, I have discovered that to relinquish more and more of myself is increasingly difficult. Rather than deal head-on with what God brought into the light, I chose to walk away. I found myself trying to find those old peels, searching through the stinking filth of the wastebasket because it was just a bit more comfortable than facing the truest part of myself.
But there is no walking, skipping, or running away. Those old peels will never feel good again. I ask...God forgive me. I am ready and willing, in prayer and meditation, to give it all away for You.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
I don't have much to say. At least not here. My writing has taken a definite leap into deeper and some what darker places. One day maybe these private entries will find their way into some sort of novel or article, who knows?
I am gearing up for Friday. Two years she will have been gone. Much more emotional this year. I am not very stable and well, for someone who LOVES control, this is somewhat of a death statement.
I spent this weekend with some ladies from our church at a retreat. It was very relaxing, full of wonderful teaching and as predicted...emotional. I had quite a bit of mental distraction going on so I am not sure that I fully inhaled what was presented. Maybe just a whiff here and there. But, in the midst of it all, I asked my friend, Beth, who I met when we were both pregnant with our second children, nearly 8 years ago if I would be considered a "crier," you know, emotional. Her emphatic answer, "NO! But, you should be."
I concluded that because it seems I cannot walk around these days without a tissue, I am in fact, going through "something." This is not the first something, but a cycle that seems to have started when she was still alive and has become more frequent since her passing.
Another conclusion I have drawn is that I am beyond being able to get this under control using only my abilities. Challenging my independent self to the core. This is extraordinarily painful to admit. I hate myself for all the times I looked at someone "emotional" and thought why can't they just pull it together? Just, "suck it up." Wow. Get a load of that mercy. Think there is an award out there for the most merciless person on the planet. Some things are truly out of one person's control.
Plans are in place to help me, aid and assist me in this journey and for once, I welcome them with arms wide open.
I am gearing up for Friday. Two years she will have been gone. Much more emotional this year. I am not very stable and well, for someone who LOVES control, this is somewhat of a death statement.
I spent this weekend with some ladies from our church at a retreat. It was very relaxing, full of wonderful teaching and as predicted...emotional. I had quite a bit of mental distraction going on so I am not sure that I fully inhaled what was presented. Maybe just a whiff here and there. But, in the midst of it all, I asked my friend, Beth, who I met when we were both pregnant with our second children, nearly 8 years ago if I would be considered a "crier," you know, emotional. Her emphatic answer, "NO! But, you should be."
I concluded that because it seems I cannot walk around these days without a tissue, I am in fact, going through "something." This is not the first something, but a cycle that seems to have started when she was still alive and has become more frequent since her passing.
Another conclusion I have drawn is that I am beyond being able to get this under control using only my abilities. Challenging my independent self to the core. This is extraordinarily painful to admit. I hate myself for all the times I looked at someone "emotional" and thought why can't they just pull it together? Just, "suck it up." Wow. Get a load of that mercy. Think there is an award out there for the most merciless person on the planet. Some things are truly out of one person's control.
Plans are in place to help me, aid and assist me in this journey and for once, I welcome them with arms wide open.
Sunday, February 01, 2009
Missing
There just seemed to be something missing today. In fact, it has been building steadily for a while now. A void, depression, near despair. And, then, it hit me, like it always does. Out of nowhere and painful. She is missing. A piece of me. Gone.
I needed her today. And, she is not here. I cannot hear her or touch her. I am angry about it. More than that. I am full of vile and fury. Life is not what is was supposed to be I want her back. I want her love. I want her humor and her understanding. I want her hands that comforted me. I want her laughter. I want that person that knows me better than anyone else to be here for me. I want my support, my cheerleader. I want my sister.
The tears on my face are hot and stinging. I haven't sobbed and wailed for her with such intensity in a while. Sure, little tears, but not the soul rattling level of this evening. And, I don't think I am finished. The anger has been bubbling on the surface for a while now and I was afraid to unleash it. And, now here it is. Out. Out in all of its rawness and ugliness and darkness. Exposed to the world.
The bitter winds of winter remind me of the time of her death - February. The day just around the corner. After nearly 2 years, I thought I had escaped the inevitable anger stage of grief. Perhaps, I wouldn't have to deal with that. I was hopeful. But here I am, collapsing on the floor like the day she died, unable to figure out how to navigate this world without her.
For two years, I have kept vigil. Searching for what, who, anything to fill her spot. Not a replacement, but just something to soften and lessen the hole. My search has been futile. There is nothing. Nothing but more time.
I needed her today. And, she is not here. I cannot hear her or touch her. I am angry about it. More than that. I am full of vile and fury. Life is not what is was supposed to be I want her back. I want her love. I want her humor and her understanding. I want her hands that comforted me. I want her laughter. I want that person that knows me better than anyone else to be here for me. I want my support, my cheerleader. I want my sister.
The tears on my face are hot and stinging. I haven't sobbed and wailed for her with such intensity in a while. Sure, little tears, but not the soul rattling level of this evening. And, I don't think I am finished. The anger has been bubbling on the surface for a while now and I was afraid to unleash it. And, now here it is. Out. Out in all of its rawness and ugliness and darkness. Exposed to the world.
The bitter winds of winter remind me of the time of her death - February. The day just around the corner. After nearly 2 years, I thought I had escaped the inevitable anger stage of grief. Perhaps, I wouldn't have to deal with that. I was hopeful. But here I am, collapsing on the floor like the day she died, unable to figure out how to navigate this world without her.
For two years, I have kept vigil. Searching for what, who, anything to fill her spot. Not a replacement, but just something to soften and lessen the hole. My search has been futile. There is nothing. Nothing but more time.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
That's Just How I Roll...
I recall Jay telling me a funny exchange he had with Ethan. Ethan must have been doing some odd-ball behavior in the car. Nothing wrong, just silly. Jay asked him why he was doing that. Ethan responded, "That's just how I roll, Dad. Just... how... I roll."
I have no idea why that conversation that occurred many months ago wound up in my head on the drive home from yet another Pump It Up birthday party, but it did. And, as usual, I started thinking about that quirky little catch phrase of 2008. So just how am I rolling?
Well, today, not very well. I don't handle disappointment. Period. I easily let others' actions dictate my emotions. Ouch and shame on me. And, when I set my heart on a particular course, well, it doesn't change direction easily. Though circumstances are always out of my control, I cling to some earthly notion that I have some sort of clout. I wonder at what point in life, someone with my disposition can refrain from any outward hissy fit throwing, control the inner sadness and disappointment and just let it roll off my back.
I know the answer to that question. It is a peace in knowing that God is in control. Knowing that what comes my way is not only purposed, but perfect. His timing, His plan, His will. Oh, but to put it into practice.
My rolling is not His rolling and I need to come to grips with that. Again.
I have no idea why that conversation that occurred many months ago wound up in my head on the drive home from yet another Pump It Up birthday party, but it did. And, as usual, I started thinking about that quirky little catch phrase of 2008. So just how am I rolling?
Well, today, not very well. I don't handle disappointment. Period. I easily let others' actions dictate my emotions. Ouch and shame on me. And, when I set my heart on a particular course, well, it doesn't change direction easily. Though circumstances are always out of my control, I cling to some earthly notion that I have some sort of clout. I wonder at what point in life, someone with my disposition can refrain from any outward hissy fit throwing, control the inner sadness and disappointment and just let it roll off my back.
I know the answer to that question. It is a peace in knowing that God is in control. Knowing that what comes my way is not only purposed, but perfect. His timing, His plan, His will. Oh, but to put it into practice.
My rolling is not His rolling and I need to come to grips with that. Again.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Happy or Holy
In my never-ending quest to understand marriage and God's design for it, I toss out the following for discussion - and I want discussion, please.
Marriage is not designed to make you happy, but to make you holy.
Marriage is all about sacrifice.
Marriage is not 50-50, but each giving 100.
We have no "rights" in this world as God is sovereign.
For me, the second and third are a given, but I am really struggling with the first statement. Well, ok, a bit with the last one, too. In another season, I would have said, "Sure, without a doubt, yeah." But, that season was smooth, easy sailing, along slow-moving waters. And, now, I see other marriages, and a tad of mine too, with turbulent times, tough painful decisions, lack of understanding, and disappointments.
I can maybe believe statement number 1 when I put it under the context of suffering. And, I am not suffering. Not in comparison of others. Suffering can be our time of greatest growth, our time of a closeness to Him, a reliance so incredible that after it is over, we would almost welcome the suffering again if only to experience Him at that level again. I recall a story about a man who lost his wife and child in an automobile accident. It took a very long time for him to recover, obviously. But in the end, his comment was that he almost felt sorry for someone who had not dealt with that level of loss because they would not have felt Him, experienced Him, breathed Him in and had total reliance on Him as he had. Heavy.
In my own life, there was a period of time at the end of Ansley's journey, when I did not walk on my own. I was being carried. It was unlike anything I ever had felt before. I described it as a wind tunnel. I was clinging to the edge, the wind was very strong and forceful and it was from God. Everything that was being thrown at me was just blown away by His breath. I was never terrified or worried because I was surrounded by Him, His Holy Spirit. I long for that again.
I can also believe that statement when I think about our emotions. They are unreliable, ever-changing and fleeting. Feelings change from day to day, but only the word of God remains true. Happiness comes from this world, but joy, ahh, that is a different thing altogether. True lasting joy comes from Him and Him alone. A level that is unobtainable from anything on this world. Therefore, if our focus is on Him, never wavering, does it really matter if we are "unhappy?"
But given the context of humanity and all of its sin, when do we have the "right" to stand-up for ourselves. Is there a clear, biblical line that delineates what man can do to another? I live by the mantra "die to self." Fail daily at it, but still believe it. And I understand that life on this earth is a blink of eye in light of eternity, therefore, does any of it really, really matter? God forgave Israel over and over and over. Being submissive and being a doormat...where is the proverbial line in the sand?
Think about it. Let me know your thoughts. Right underneath this post is the word, "comment." Please use it today. Thanks.
Marriage is not designed to make you happy, but to make you holy.
Marriage is all about sacrifice.
Marriage is not 50-50, but each giving 100.
We have no "rights" in this world as God is sovereign.
For me, the second and third are a given, but I am really struggling with the first statement. Well, ok, a bit with the last one, too. In another season, I would have said, "Sure, without a doubt, yeah." But, that season was smooth, easy sailing, along slow-moving waters. And, now, I see other marriages, and a tad of mine too, with turbulent times, tough painful decisions, lack of understanding, and disappointments.
I can maybe believe statement number 1 when I put it under the context of suffering. And, I am not suffering. Not in comparison of others. Suffering can be our time of greatest growth, our time of a closeness to Him, a reliance so incredible that after it is over, we would almost welcome the suffering again if only to experience Him at that level again. I recall a story about a man who lost his wife and child in an automobile accident. It took a very long time for him to recover, obviously. But in the end, his comment was that he almost felt sorry for someone who had not dealt with that level of loss because they would not have felt Him, experienced Him, breathed Him in and had total reliance on Him as he had. Heavy.
In my own life, there was a period of time at the end of Ansley's journey, when I did not walk on my own. I was being carried. It was unlike anything I ever had felt before. I described it as a wind tunnel. I was clinging to the edge, the wind was very strong and forceful and it was from God. Everything that was being thrown at me was just blown away by His breath. I was never terrified or worried because I was surrounded by Him, His Holy Spirit. I long for that again.
I can also believe that statement when I think about our emotions. They are unreliable, ever-changing and fleeting. Feelings change from day to day, but only the word of God remains true. Happiness comes from this world, but joy, ahh, that is a different thing altogether. True lasting joy comes from Him and Him alone. A level that is unobtainable from anything on this world. Therefore, if our focus is on Him, never wavering, does it really matter if we are "unhappy?"
But given the context of humanity and all of its sin, when do we have the "right" to stand-up for ourselves. Is there a clear, biblical line that delineates what man can do to another? I live by the mantra "die to self." Fail daily at it, but still believe it. And I understand that life on this earth is a blink of eye in light of eternity, therefore, does any of it really, really matter? God forgave Israel over and over and over. Being submissive and being a doormat...where is the proverbial line in the sand?
Think about it. Let me know your thoughts. Right underneath this post is the word, "comment." Please use it today. Thanks.
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