Living In The Space Of "And"

Normally I live in a space of “but” and I’m learning to accept the “and”.

I have been unable to fathom getting on my computer to write a blog. Every time I would think about it I just told myself “but everything is so heavy right now, I can’t do it justice” and I would stop. I have been mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually exhausted. I had nothing to offer and felt insignificant in this moment.

The path of healing I am on has lead me to some amazing teachers and helpers. I have had several counselors, spiritual guides, mentors, and therapists through the years. Last year I had to say good bye to a spiritual guide that had helped me heal because that person became unsafe for me. That person was on a journey that I could no longer follow. It hurt to say goodbye but I had to.

I now have a woman therapist that is helping me continue on the healing and growing journey. The best and most important thing she has taught me is to live in the “and”. The idea of the “and” is that two things that are opposite or that seem to be at odds, can both be true at the same time. An example you might be able to relate to would be loving a person deeply (like a friend, parent, or child) and wanting to be away from them.

This is a normal feeling but I come from the world of “buts”. In my mind if I love someone then it is not an acceptable feeling to want to be away from them. It had to be one or the other. Either I loved them, or I wanted to be away from them and that meant I didn’t love them. Both things could not be true. So if I said “I love you but I want to be away from you” then my love was canceled out. Living this way produces guilt and shame.

Learning to live in the space of “and” and letting two things be true at once allows me to see how hard life is sometimes and allows me a chance to give myself grace. I feel compassion for myself when I can see how hard it is to feel love and want space. I think I picked a great time to start learning about the “and” space because I am getting plenty of practice.

The corona virus has given me so many opportunities to feel these feelings. In the beginning I was terrified of going anywhere and glad to be home with my family. I could be social distancing and longing for touch and connection. Wearing a mask made me feel safer and caused me to have panic attacks. Homeschooling was fun and maddening. I was so grateful to have so much time alone with my family and I was sick of them. I went on a fun vacation and felt like I was endangering myself, my family, and every person I came into contact with. My life slowed down and got busier than ever.

Using the word “and” instead of “but” is a simple enough thing but the affect on my mental state has been profound. I do not feel pitted against myself (well I do, hence the therapist needed, but I am able to come around) and the shame and guilt do not last as long. The internal battle that I used to have that only one thing could be true was really just a trap to keep me from allowing myself the grace to be human. Some call it perfectionism, but in my case, I think it was just a reason to punish myself for being human. If I allowed myself to enjoy a vacation, I could quick come in and say “but you endangered so many people” and it would sap me of my joy and return me to the all too familiar place of shame and judgement. I’m not saying I like to live in shame and judgement, but some things are like and old sweater. There is comfort in their oldness, their familiar fit to you. I am comfortable in the space of shame and judgement, I’ve lived there my whole life. Accepting my full human emotional capabilities is a new sweater, I don’t mind it, but it is not broken in and familiar like the old.

As I look at the world today, I am given so many areas in which I can practice my “and”. I can love the summer weather and be so sad and depressed that I don’t want to get out of bed to enjoy it. I can be so grateful that my city is taking steps to keep us safe from corona virus and miss the community pool so much that I want to stomp my feet and climb the fence when I walk by it. I can understand that social distancing can keep me and my family safe and know that sometimes if you don’t hug a person in the exact moment that they need it most, you are hurting them too. I can understand that children learn best in person and in the classroom and that classroom instruction may endanger their health and mine. I can want my college age daughter to return to her campus in the fall to live the full college experience and want her to stay here with me forever.

I can refuse to eat at a restaurant and march in the streets with thousands of others for Black Lives. This one was hard for me. I had been so careful to social distance and the stay in my family bubble. I would only order take out and cook at home because that is what felt safest. Then police killed George Floyd and when I watched that video and heard him cry for his life and call out for his mother, I knew that I had to be out there. I knew that I had to break my safe bubble to protect and stand for those that do not ever get a safe bubble like me. I social distanced at the march and I wore my mask and I walked alongside thousands of others standing up for human rights. In the past, I would be living in the shame of wanting to keep my family safe and healthy and breaking quarantine to march. New me is living in the space of grace. I can do both. There doesn’t have to be shame.

When I give myself permission to live in the “and” I get to experience the fullness of being a wonderful, complicated, flawed human being. I give myself the grace of being able to contradict myself. I allow myself to feel two things that are opposites and know that both can be true without shame and judgement and without one cancelling out the other. The side benefit of living in the “and” is that you start to see other people as complicated and contradictory too and you are able to extend the grace to them. You can see that one thing doesn’t cancel out the other and that people can be many things. This place makes it very difficult to judge others and allows understanding and compassion to grow.

I challenge you to replace some “buts” with some “ands” and see how that feels. I know it will feel weird at first but try it on anyway and see if you enjoy to benefit of being fully human, full of grace, and void of shame and judgement (if it pops up, tell it it can stay “and” that it can’t cancel out the grace).

Don't Forget About Play

Play is vital to children’s development and we need to make sure we are placing value on it during online or hybrid schooling and a social distance summer.

It is 7:15 a.m. and I’ve just made my first cup of coffee. My children are sleeping and I need to make sure my lessons are posted for the day in my online platform for kindergarten instruction. This is not how I would choose to do kindergarten instruction but I do think we are doing the best we can given the time and circumstances surrounding the covid-19 stay at home orders. What I am missing most and feeling the most guilt about is that I am not able to meet the needs of my students when it comes to social and emotional support and opportunities for learning through play.

After my lessons are posted and I provide feedback on yesterday’s lessons, I then hop on to my college courses online to see if I can get some of that done. I’ll sit in my work area for hours today, on my computer. My children will get up at some point and eat breakfast. They will then get onto their online class pages and I will help them complete their assignments. I will have some zoom meetings throughout the day and so will my kids. My husband is in the basement working his marketing job from home. This requires a lot of working on the computer and being on virtual and phone meetings.

While my husband and I juggle work and school, my children spend a lot of time on their devices, watching television, and coming in to tell me they are bored. I understand but I’m not able to provide them with entertainment at the moment. I realize that we can provide all of the content they are missing over the internet for any grade level, but what we cannot replicate is the in-person social and play experiences they get with their peers. It is irreplaceable and invaluable. My children are lucky, they are twins, so they have a built in, same age peer to play with. It is not enough.

As we move forward and we head toward a summer of social distancing with an uncertain fall ahead, I would like to break down why play is so important to children and how we can foster it, advocate for it, and provide opportunities for it in a developmentally appropriate way.

What does play look like?

Play involves activities that are usually pleasurable, self-chosen, engaging, intrinsically motivating, and can involve the creative use of objects, role-playing, and goal achievement. (White, n.d.).

What is does play have to do with  social-emotional development?

Play can look and sound different based on the age of your children. Normally developing children go through stages of social-emotional development that can involve typical types of play. If your child has developmental delays or disabilities, the age may not match the stage, and you should not be discouraged by this, this is just a guide. You know what your child is able to do and not do and should have realistic expectations for them.

Peter Gray, Ph.D. says that in play children learn how to regulate their fear and anger and thereby how to maintain emotional control in threatening real-life situations (Gray, 2012). He also says that children everywhere, throughout human history until very recently, spent huge amounts of time outdoors, with peers, away from adult control, and that is how children have always learned the most important lessons that we all must learn for a satisfying life (Gray, 2019)

Ages and play

I will be talking about play from a school aged child perspective, but please know that if your child is below the age of 4, you are their most important playmate! You smiling at them, talking to them, playing on the floor with them, reading them books, and encouraging them in all their physical endeavors is the most important thing you can do for young children.

Image credit: Google Images

Preschool and Early Kindergarten

∙Parallel play: preschool age children engage in parallel play and pretend play. They will start at parallel play (White, n.d.), which is playing next to another child, possibly with the same toys even but not engaging with the other child much.

∙Limited language

∙Pretend play

∙Use realistic props for role play, dress up, acting out real life scenarios

∙Early literacy development

Image credit: Google Images

Primary Grade Children

∙Organized play with structure and rules (White, n.d.) that satisfies their growing appreciation of logic.

∙Build social skills

∙Learn negotiation

∙Learn compromise

∙Learn how to take turns

∙Learn how to wait

∙Literacy development

Image Credit: Google Images

Middle School Children

∙organized games or sports activities that support group membership

∙children at this age have an advanced ability to assess themselves and their abilities (White, n.d.)

∙group memebership

For 10 things every parent should know about play from the NAEYC see: https://www.naeyc.org/our-work/families/10-things-every-parent-play.

What if my child has developmental disabilities or delays?

1.    Learn about typical levels of play.

2.    Understand how your child’s disability may affect their play.

3.    Watch what your child likes to do with the toys they have available at home.

4.    Join your child in playing at his or her level of play with the toys available.

5.    Select toys and play activities that are not only appropriate for your child’s developmental level, but that are also likely to appeal to their interests. (Pierce-Jordan, 2013)

How can I help at home?

This is our dilemma right now. Schools provide our children opportunities all day long to develop these social-emotional skills with their peers. It can feel like an impossible task to replicate those experiences at home and in some ways, it is. You will never be able to set up your home like a school if that is not your full time job and commitment-I see you home school parents-but even our home school communities are not able to meet up with other families or take advantage of community spaces right now in their teaching.  So let’s look at some ways we can encourage play at home.

Block area with building materials or a science area with experimental materials where children can practice building, creating, and experimenting. This is constructive play (Child Development Institute, n.d.) where children learn to manipulate and control their environment to get desired results. This can be traditional wooden blocks or old Amazon or cereal or shoe boxes or wood pieces or rock from outdoors.

Dress up or dramatic play area with old clothing, shoes, kitchen utensils, pots, pans, aprons, old take out menus, writing pads, a mirror, and maybe tools. This kind of imaginative play emulates family living, society, different cultural heritages and can express imagination (Ktaylor 33197, 2016).

Water or sand area outdoors (or indoors if you don’t mind a mess) give children the opportunity to practice manipulating materials, building, exploring and experimenting. You can do just water or just sand but also the mixture of the two will encourage the play and experimentation even further. Children can send hours manipulating these sensory materials.

An outdoor play space or an indoor space of their own to play free of adults is important for older. Here they can have access to books for reading, music to listen to and maybe even dance to, writing or drawing area with materials and maybe a stash of board or card games, along with sports equipment. Older children could also benefit from a space where they could have materials to create or tinker. In schools we call this a maker space. A maker space might include recyclable materials, tape, staplers. Zip ties, cardboard boxes, old appliances, parts of old toys, etc. These spaces can be messy and require children to able to leave something that they are creating and come back to it if they want to modify it or rebuild it. If you do not have a tolerance for messes, you could have this area in a lesser used part of the house or garage.

Everyone is struggling right now to meet the social and play needs of their children right now. I know that it can see monumental to think of making whole themed areas for your children at home. Do not get me wrong, I am a teacher and my home does not look like a classroom. In fact, we recently had flooding in our basement where the kids had a space of their own with toys, dress up clothes, and a ping pong table and all of that is in a heap in a back room that did not flood waiting for our floors to dry out.

I’m giving myself grace and starting small. My twins are 9 and they really miss their friends. We installed the messenger kids Facebook app so they can video call their friends and talk. Yesterday we did a zoom call on the computer with another family and played Scattergories for an hour. Last weekend we picked a nature area close to our house and went on a family hike. Most of all, I let my kids be bored and encourage them to play without me entertaining them. That is where they learn what they are capable of, what they like, and how to handle being alone. Do your best. Going into summer, let them ride bikes, play with other kids from a safe distance (kicking a ball, talking a six-foot-apart walk together, setting up hammocks in a wooded area and reading books together).

When school resumes in the fall, be an advocate for play in schools or if it continues online, be sure that the program they are using addresses the social-emotional and play needs of children. This video talks about defending children’s right to play: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IfmnS39aPtM

I would love to hear from you in the comments. What resonated with you? What are your concerns? Questions? Would you like to see more educational content on my blog? Leave a comment below or share the link if you think it was helpful.

References

Bongiorno, Laurel (NAEYC). (n.d.). 10 Things Every Parent Should Know About Play. Retrieved from https://www.naeyc.org/our-work/families/10-things-every-parent-play

Child Development Institute. (n.d.). Types of play. Retrieved from https://childdevelopmentinfo.com/child-development/play-work-of-children/pll/#.WjwdxlWnGwl

DEY Defending Early Years. (2019, December 14). Fighting for Children’s Right to Play. Retrieved from  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IfmnS39aPtM

Gray, Peter Ph.D. (2012, June 21). [Blog post] Free Play Is Essential for Normal Emotional Development. Why mother nature motivates our children to play in emotionally exciting ways. Retrieved from https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/freedom-learn/201206/free-play-is-essential-normal-emotional-development

Gray, Peter Ph.D. (2019, May 9) [Blog post] How Can We Restore Children’s Independent Outdoor Play? Retrieved from https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/freedom-learn/201905/how-can-we-restore-children-s-independent-outdoor-play

KTaylor 33197. (2016, October). Curriculum and Instruction (Test #3) (Chapters 7 and 8). Retrieved from https://quizlet.com/162025657/curriculum-and-instruction-test-3-chapters-7-and-8-flash-cards/

Pierce-Jordan, Sandra. (2013, September 10). Five tips for promoting play skills in young children with developmental disabilities. Retrieved from https://www.parentingnh.com/five-tips-for-promoting-play-skills-in-young-children-with-developmental-disabilities/

White, R.E. (n.d.). The power of play: A research summary on play and learning. St. Paul, MN: Minnesota Children’s Museum. Retrieved from https: www.childrensmuseums.org/images/MCMResearchSummary.pdf

Yes It's Your Path, No It Won't Be Easy!

When the way is clear but the path is difficult, keep going.

image credit: Bartley Terrill

The picture above is me hiking back up a clear path from a waterfall in North Carolina. We had found a roadside waterfall that was marked in our tour book and thought it would be a quick hike for a big reward, the waterfall. When we got there, the path was marked and it was clear we were in the right place. You could hear the waterfall but not see it. The path looked short enough but it went down steeply. We decided to do it. It was not easy. It was muddy and steep and a little scary at times. At the bottom, was a beautiful waterfall that I enjoyed very much. Then I had to climb back up that path and it was even harder going back up, but I did it.

Going down

This image of a difficult path came to me today. It is a Sunday afternoon and I am already exhausted thinking about the week ahead. I’m still exhausted from the week before. I’m on my path, and I know it is the path I am supposed to be on, but it is not easy.

This summer, I felt nudged to look for a full time teaching job. I applied for three and the third one offered me a job. I prayed about it, I talked with friends and family and mentors about it, and I felt really strongly that this was the path I was supposed to take. I had been a stay at home mom for eight years and had been working part time the last three of those eight years. I was always home, I always attended school parties and meetings, I always picked my kids up from school and always was able to be home if they were sick and needed me. All of that was about to change and I wasn’t sure it was going to work out.

I have a character defect that if I feel led to a path and I decide to take it, I want it to be easy. I want to be rewarded for taking the right path. I want the universe to keep reminding me that I’m doing the right thing by making my path and my journey clear and smooth. Never in the history of me following my path has anything EVER worked out this way, but dang it, I want it to. And I am disappointed and confused and frustrated every time the path is difficult. I don’t know where I ever learned this type of thinking, that everything was supposed to be right when you do right, but I am always wrong.

Here is an example. I decided years ago to disrupt the pattern in my life of living with someone in active addiction. I wanted the path before me to be lit up like the yellow brick road, filled with gifts and smooth travel. I was doing a good and noble thing, I was about to change my life for the better, I was changing my daughter’s life for the better too-bonus points! Wrong. While I did not have to live with an active addict on a daily basis I now had the challenge of salvaging my house from a bankruptcy, figuring out how to put gas in my car to get to my three part time jobs and my full time student teaching, figuring out who would watch my child while I had to do all of that work and homework, etc. I had to challenge every belief I had that caused me to marry, live with and have a child with someone in active addiction in the first place. I had to make time for my Al-Anon meetings and time for therapists. It actually would have been easier to stay and live how I had been living, not safer but easier.

Another example, I decided to get my master’s degree the year that I was getting married to my husband Bartley. We planned a destination wedding for about 30 people, moved myself and my six year old to a new school, a new city and a new house. The next year we decided that we wanted to add onto our family. What could be a more beautiful path?? I cried so much on that path that it was more like a river than a path. We found out that we were having two babies instead of one, I was teaching full time but so sick and exhausted from the pregnancy that it was hard to function. My graduate classes were in the write your thesis stage and my pregnancy brain was not allowing me to do my normal brilliant thinking. My ex-husband died suddenly in January that year and I had to navigate supporting my child through losing her father, finishing a master’s thesis, preparing my classroom for a long-term sub, gestational diabetes, and being unable to sleep or function normally because of the size of my pregnant body. I made it through. I got my master’s degree, navigated the grief journey of myself and my child, birthed twins, and managed to stay married, on my recovery journey, and sane (relatively speaking). I spent so many days and nights crying at the sheer height of the obstacles in front of me on my path, not understanding how on earth it would be possible for me to continue on the path. It was not easy, it was not simple, and yes-it was the path I was supposed to take-it was my life journey for the time.

Once again I am in the middle of a path that seems impossible. I am teaching full time in a new school district. My oldest child went off to college and one month into the semester, our dog got hit by a car and died. I was devastated. He was just a puppy and he was my little shadow. My classroom was challenging because I had started late, and that is always a challenge for everybody. It takes longer to bond as a class and I had less time to get my mind, classroom, and goals together than if I had known all along what grade and school I would be at. I felt behind in every way from learning how to send an email to not knowing how to make copies (I needed a number and didn’t yet have a number), to knowing all of the acronyms used in school notes and at meetings.

I found out that my teaching license (that I hadn’t needed the last 8 years) was going to expire in June and I had to take two college classes to get enough credits to renew it in time. So now I am taking two online graduate level courses and my new teacher brain is not allowing me to be my normally smart thinking self. I got a 65% on my last assignment I turned in. Ugh. We are doing home improvement projects that are taking time and energy and decision making and it has not been easy. We are navigating having a child in college, two eight year olds that are in sports and very active with friends and activities, job travel and stress for my husband, and deciding how to break old patterns in our life that we have decided don’t serve us anymore. I cry and sleep more than I would like to admit. I feel overwhelmed from the minute I wake up until I go to sleep everyday. I want to quit. I want to quit this stupid path that I know is mine and is right, but it is hard. Why? Because I don’t trust myself and I don’t trust God.

That is what it all boils down to. I think that because it is hard, maybe it is a mistake. I think that the right path should be easy and that if it isn’t easy, it must not be right. I forget about all of the HARD journeys I have been on that were so right for me and yet so difficult that I didn’t think I would make it through. I don’t trust that I’ll have the strength, the energy, the determination, and the faith to get through it. That means I think that it all rests in me and I forget that in my life, I’m supposed to be believing that a Higher Power has my back. That She will guide me and give me what I need to get through anything when I need it. I struggle with life and I struggle with faith. I doubt my strength and ability and I doubt God’s too. I actually get lost in the path and forget what I’m on it for, what is the destination? The path I’m on right now is moving toward financial independence and security, professional fulfillment, and on contributing my gifts to society by impacting children’s lives at the youngest school ages. My path is toward healing and growing and breaking old patterns. My path is toward becoming more authentically me and less trauma impacted and trauma reactive and doing what is easy not what is right and true.

So I’m going to cry, take some Advil, drink another cup of coffee and write another crappy assignment for my classes. I’m going to half-ass house work, do the bare minimum laundry to get through the week and ignore my desire to take a nap. I’m going to ask someone else to grocery shop for me, skip exercises, and probably shop for a dog online while I should be preparing for my week ahead at work. I’m doing the best I can. It is hard. My path is steeper, muddier, and longer than I thought it would be when it started. I forget that I’m walking toward the life I want and that when I get there, the view will be awesome. I’ll forget the mud and the scrapes along the way (for the most part) and it will be worth it…right?

The Gift of Hope

I recently had a gathering with a few friends and we talked about hope. It was a much needed talk for me because I had lost sight of hope for a bit and needed to remind myself that it is always available to me. I’m so grateful for the word hope and for being surrounded by people and resources in my life that remind me of it.

When I was in my mid to late twenties, I was in a place of no hope. I literally thought that there was no hope for me, my husband, my daughter, or any hope that our lives would change for the better. We were in the depths of living with addiction and the chaos that surrounds it. I was experiencing the life I had tried so hard to avoid and I was ashamed, confused, and defeated. I had no tools to deal with what I was experiencing except for the tools I had learned in childhood to deal with my dad’s drinking. Those were survival tools for sure but they were not the tools of hope.

A very dear person in my life suggested that I try a twelve step program for me, to help me deal with living with an alcoholic/addict. It was one of the only things that had been suggested to me that was different than the controlling, manipulating, fighting, giving up, crying, screaming, leaving, returning, etc, that I had been trying. I went and on the very first night I left with the tiniest seed of hope planted deep inside my heart that I could learn a new way of life for me.

I had the tiniest feeling of hope that I could deal with the disease of addiction in a different way that didn’t mean survival but meant living well. I had met people that night that smiled, that laughed, that hugged, and that loved and I hadn’t done any of those things in a long time. Hope was planted in my heart.

Over the years, I kept attending and I kept growing the hope in my heart. My hope kept changing though, in ways that hurt my heart. I started in my first few years with a hope that my husband would stop drinking and drugging and that we would become a family in recovery. My hope was attached to his sobriety and it was smashed to pieces every time he used again. My hope was that I would be enough, that our child would be enough, that our love for him would be enough to defeat his addictions. It was exhausting getting up every morning and lighting that little flame of hope inside me when it had been drowned the night before by drinking, drugs, a hospital stay, another rehab stint that didn’t work, or another move in with a relative for our safety. It was like lighting a piece of wood on fire that you just dragged out of the lake, took forever, had to have intense amounts of false hope doused on it before it would even catch fire, and then just smoked all day and stung my eyes because it was crappy wet hope anyway.

I finally learned that if I was going to have any real hope at all, that it had to be in myself and my own recovery. I could not continue to tie my hope to someone else’s life and expect them to make my life better with their actions. I had to do the bettering. I had to take control of the only thing that was in my power to control, my life. My hope now rested in me. It scared the crap out of me. I didn’t trust myself, I was a failure. I had landed myself smack in the middle of the life I swore I would never live. I would never tolerate addiction in my life, I would never allow my children to be affected.

I had sat in a bathtub with my toddler child while my husband, in a drunken, drug induced rage, punched at the locked door, cut our phone line, and was beating at the handle trying to get to us. He was screaming that he would take our child and run away with her so that I would never see her again. My life was out of control. I was in danger and I had put my child in danger by choosing to hope that my husband would get better. I failed. You would think that any hope I had in my husband would have died that day, but it didn’t. Denial is a sneaky little bugger, and I continued to put myself in danger for a while, just hoping that this time, he would mean what he said.

I finally gave up my hope in him. I remember the day. He came into my work with a group of people who were taking him off to rehab. He said something to me that was an attempt to give me hope and I felt nothing. I wanted him to leave and I wanted to be done hoping. My heart could not take another attempt at hope with him. After he left, I wrote a long letter to God. I explained that I was giving my husband to him. That I could no longer hope, I could no longer help, and I could no longer live with him. I wished him well. I hoped for his recovery, but I was separating my hope for me, from him. I never went back again. We divorced.

When my ex-husband died years later, I really was devastated. I had never lost hope that he would recover. I never lost hope in him. But I had long severed the hope that I would only be okay if he was okay. I had long stopped the hope that we would be okay together. I had stayed in my twelve step recovery group and had learned to hope in myself., to hope in my God who was in charge of my life, and not in any one human being besides myself. The night of his funeral, I went to a meeting, and as I spoke, I realized that my worst fear had happened and that I still had to live. I still had hope for me, hope for my child, that we could live, even though the one we cared for so much had died. Once again, it was tiny, the smallest flame of hope there is without burning out-but it was there.

So many times in my life, my hope has gotten so confusing. I forget that the only hope that I can have is in myself and my higher power. I think that my hope is tied to people, jobs, experiences, titles, money, security, goodness, success, etc. It is a lie. I have to remember that the only hope that can burn in me is in myself. I cannot tie it to anything outside of me or it will get extinguished at every turn. I have no control over other people, their choices, their feelings, their life, and tying my flame of hope to them is dangerous. It is an invitation into darkness.

I am in the process right now of untangling my lines of hope that I attached to some things outside of myself. It is a natural part of life, it is part of living as an imperfect human who wants to hope in others, who wants to hope in things outside, who wants to rest in something other than themselves. Maybe someday I’ll learn the lesson that I can only rest in me, and in my higher power, but I’m slow at learning many things. I have more power than I think to survive tragedy, to stand up for myself, and to have hope for the future. I just need to look back a little in my life to be reminded of how it felt to have my hope tied up in someone else, to give my power away, and to think that I would die if they made the wrong choices. The real truth is that we are all responsible for ourselves. And that person that you think you will die if you lose, you won’t, you’ll have to live through it. They will die and you will move forward guided by that tiny little flame in your heart, your hope in yourself.

Thank you to to people in my twelve step program who show up and tell me always of their hope in themselves, of their hope in the program, and of their hope in God. It is how I knew I could do it then, and how I am doing it now. I may not be facing a tragedy like I have survived in my past, but every little loss is a reminder that I am still here despite the loss. That I must always move forward and search for my flame of hope. It is a comfort to know that my flame is mine and that no one can blow it out with their words, their choices, their life decisions, or their desire to blow out my hope. It lies deep in me and I can look within at any time and cut the ties that I may have hooked my hope to, or any ties that others may have thrown onto my hope candle to try to make me responsible for their hope. So I’m cutting, I’m cleaning, I’m grieving, I’m stoking my fire within, and I’m resting in the knowledge that if I hold on to me and my hope, that pain will end, and I will be okay.

A Letter to Myself During This Time of Change

Above all else guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it. -Proverbs 4:23

Dear Self,

Life has changed rapidly in just a few months and it is okay to feel unsettled. Feeling unsettled doesn’t mean you are doing anything wrong or that things are not exactly how they need to be. It just means that you are feeling the reality of life, the growing pains of change.

Your oldest child left for college, you went back to teaching full time, your twins are in different classes at school for the first time, you rescued a cat and lost a dog traumatically. You went from seeing a counselor twice a week to asking that same counselor to leave your life in a pretty traumatic turn of events. You went from spending almost every day outside in nature to spending days at a time not being outdoors more that just walking to and from your car.

I know that you do not understand the purpose of all of this change yet. The water is still settling and you cannot see the bottom. I know that it drives you crazy to feel so unsettled and so uncomfortable but you are making your way through. I also know that you have been too busy with work to process some of this stuff. Maybe that is also as it should be? I do not know.

It is really hard in uncertain times to trust your heart and to trust that you will make it through all of the changes and be okay. That your heart won’t always be broken, that you won’t always feel so lost and sad, and that it wont always be this hard. It is hard to believe that these growing pains are leading you to a better place, or maybe just a different place where you will have a new normal. It is hard to feel uncertain and uncomfortable and to struggle with your confidence in yourself, but it is a normal feeling when experiencing dramatic changes in your life.

So trust your heart to the voice that told you to follow that path. It never said that it would be an easy path. Trust your heart to heal after loss and trauma as it has done so many times before. Trust that though your child is out of your home and on her own path, that you will continue to roll with the evolution of her life and remain a touchstone for her. Trust that you had the counselor you needed when you needed him and that others will come when they are needed also. Trust that what other people are going through in their own lives doesn’t have to involve you and that you can be as involved as you choose to be, for your own health and sanity.

Most of all trust your heart to lead you through the murky water until it settles and things become more clear. Be grateful for the chance to grow again and to embrace change (even if it is soooooo beyond uncomfortable). But also trust yourself to protect your heart from negativity, from abuse and pain, and from those who don’t see your worth and your value. Trust that you will know what to do and when to do it and that you can face great pain without shutting down your heart of compassion for others.

Go outside everyday. Pet every dog you see. Show up every day, be present, and do your best. Be grateful for phone calls and Snapchats when they come. Love on your family. Let people help you. Allow yourself to feel your feelings and to process the changes and the losses. They are real and they are affecting you. Lean into your HIgher Power for strength when you don’t have any, love when you feel alone, guidance when you feel lost, and for comfort when none of it makes sense.

Love,

Me

The Gift of Beans

How one little dog changed my life forever.

March 3, 2018 we were supposed to go skiing. The weather turned warm and our trip was cancelled. I suggested we take a trip to Grand Rapids to PetSmart where a cute dog I had seen online was supposed to be ready to be adopted. My husband and kids agreed to my surprise and off we went.

The whole way there we talked about how we might not get the dog. He might not be right for us, they might not pick us for his owners, etc. We were all cautious. We had not had a dog in three years. Our last dog had passed away from illness and we were in no hurry to own another with our busy lives.

Well we got to PetSmart and they told us that Beans wouldn’t be coming to the event. I was heartbroken. I told them how far we drove and wondered if we could meet up with the owner while we were there? They told us the owner was way back up in Newaygo Michigan but would meet us at the rescue if we were willing to drive. For some reason, I was willing to do whatever it took to meet Beans.

When Beans arrived he bolted out of the truck and took off to smell all the smells with vigor. He was a brownish orange fluffy fox of a dog. His owner was blunt about his quirks and his needs. We loved him immediately but wanted to be sure. We took him home with the stipulation that we could bring him back if it didn’t work out at home.

The minute we brought Beans into our home, life changed forever. He was a force of energy. He was high strung, always wanted to play, destroyed balls, gutted stuffed animals, ate squeakers, and barked his fool head off at anything and everything.

We had to hide our shoes, toys, food, anything that he could chew and eat he would. We had to put up a gate to keep him downstairs so we could watch him at all times. We would attack your feet if they were under a blanket and you moved them while he was sleeping on them. He could and would jump from the ground up to your face out of excitement and use your belly as a spring board on the way up. He had nervous stomach days where he would just barf all day. We hated these days for the clean up but loved these days because it slowed him down a little and he wanted to cuddle because he didn’t feel well.

Beans could eat a raw hide bone in an hour. He would get the zoomies and run around the house growling and sliding. This would almost always end in some turds on the carpet before you could catch him, his excitement stirring up everything. We hung a bell from our sliding door for him to ring when he needed to go outside. He soon figured out that this was a way to get all needs met and rang it incessantly. So much so that the kids started tying it up so he couldn’t ring it-but he showed us by then peeing on our blankets.

We could not take Beans to crowded places because he would bark and lunge at everyone and everything. On walks he pulled and pulled the entire time, never letting up. He would lunge and bark at any passing car, kid on a bike, or squirrel. He would lose his mind barking if we encountered another dog and did not really ever get the hang of sniffing butts and greeting like a normal dog. He was the boss, but he was also terrified.

He was the best snuggle buddy. He insisted on being on me if I sat or laid down. He would push his way in between me and a good book, a computer, or even sometimes my dinner. Beans was pushy. Demanding.

So if this little brownish orange fluffy fox of dog sounds like a royal pain in the butt to you, you would be correct. And he was the best thing that ever happened to me. When I went to tell our oldest, who is away at college, that Beans had died, she said these words…”Mom, Beans breathed life into our family. He made our life fun and interesting. We were in a rut as a family and didn’t even know it until we got Beans.” Truer words could not have been spoken.

After his passing, I started thinking about what he meant to me. Here is what I’ve learned. When you love someone (dog or human or whatever) you love all of them. You love and accept the amazing parts that make you feel good like good snuggles and belly laughs and you love the pain in the butt parts of them like zoomie poops and torn up shoes. Seems like an obvious thing but it was something I needed to relearn.

Beans came from a not so great environment. The woman we got him from had rescued him for a less than ideal situation. He had trauma and therefore had quirks and needs that a normal dog might not have. He needed to be contained and leashed at all times. He was nervous, he was needy, he had stomach issues, he was not trusting and he was scared a lot. He was aggressive with his love and attention. He was too much for some people. We got a letter from the city that he was too loud and couldn’t be left in the backyard unattended because he was bothering the neighbors with his loud barking. He had a hard time relaxing.

Turns out I’m a lot like Beans. My traumas make me quirky. I can’t be in just any old home. I require things like an alcohol free home, quiet time to myself to feel and process, reminders that my needs are important and that it is okay to say no. I am not for everyone and I require patience and safety to relax and love.

I used to try to hide who I was and deny what my trauma had inflicted upon me. I didn’t want to be weird or have weird needs. I just did without, tried to fit into any situation that would have me so that I could just appear normal and hope that I wasn’t too much trouble for anyone. It was exhausting and inauthentic. No one really knew me and love was surface level because I was hiding my unique, weird needs caused by trauma.

Beans helped me to have the experience of loving a wildly quirky traumatized dog with my whole heart. To do whatever it takes to adapt and adjust to their needs not out of obligation but out of pure love. And it was hard work. He took a lot of energy, attention, and care. In return he loved us wildly. He kissed faces, presented toys, begged for treats, became uncontrollably excited at the prospect of a walk, and let me know he felt safe with my by relaxing, snuggling, and sleeping on me without a care in the world. The reward outweighed the cost all day long. Was it easy? No.

When you agree to love someone with trauma, your life will not be easy. You commit to doing whatever it takes to keep them safe and to care for them and their unique needs. You agree to sometimes be in the foxhole of their pain with them and to alter your life to accommodate their sensitivities. And they are 100% worth it. Family means that you have each other’s back no matter what. That you will take care of each other even when it is a pain in the butt. You know each other intimately and will do things for each other that no one else would do, because of love and commitment. You are willing to be inconvenienced, to accommodate, and to adjust. Yesterday I had to take the cat in to the ER vet and sit in the same room that I had to say goodbye to Beans in. It was hard, but she is my family and I can do hard things for her. She is okay, just an eye infection. I’ll pay the emergency bill, I let her scratch and bite me while I try to put drops in her eyes. She is a little wild rescued barn cat that also has my whole heart. It is as it should be.

I am 100% worth it whatever it takes. Now I know that to love me is a privilege even with my quirks. The pay off is my love. If you aren’t getting the pay off, you aren’t loving me. Thanks Beans. Now I know.

Rest in peace you beautiful boy!

Getting On The Roller Coaster

“Life is like a roller coaster. It has its ups and downs but it is your choice to scream or enjoy the ride.”

— Author unknown

I am a screamer. When it comes to roller coasters I scream. I swear. I hit. I stop breathing, and I hate them. The picture above is me with my daughter, Maiah, last week at Cedar Point. It was the last ride of the day for me. My daughter made me promise that I would ride at least one big roller coaster with her. She picked The Gatekeeper. She told me it had a great view of the water and that it was pretty low key and that she thought I would like it. This is what it looks like:

https://youtu.be/pkOqi7Du3Og

Nice view of the water, huh? I was too busy pleading for my life and hyperventilating to notice it. I could not breathe properly again for another thirty minutes or more after the ride ended. I was so proud of myself for doing it and for living to tell the tale, but I learned something about myself.

When I was in the eighth grade I went to Cedar Point for the first time and rode a real roller coaster. I hated it. Never wanted to do it again. I tried again in my early twenties. Hated it. Tried again in my forties and I really hated it. There is no convincing my body and my nervous system that we are not going to die on the ride. On smaller coasters I can put my hands up and laugh when I’m not dropping to my death, but as soon as that stomach drop happens my breathing stops and I take a death grip to the rail.

I have always hated this about myself. I wanted to seek out thrills. I wanted to do coasters, jump out of planes, rush down a ski hill, or even watch a horror movie without feeling like I was going to die. I felt like a wimp, a lightweight, or a wuss. I felt like there was something wrong with me, like I didn’t like to have fun. Everyone else seemed to be having fun. I was in a nervous system shutdown with an adrenaline hangover. My adrenal glands actually ache and feel tender to the touch.

This year I learned that I can appreciate my body for trying to protect me. That it works so well that I cannot even override it with promises of fun and excitement. I’m grateful that my body so badly wants me to live. And it doesn’t mean that I cannot ride roller coasters, go skydiving, watch a horror movie, or do anything that scares the crap out of me. I can do it anyway. I can accept that in the process my body will fight like hell to protect me and love it for doing so. And afterward, I may need to relearn how to breath and be back in the safe world, and that is okay too. I am able to do that.

I always look for the lesson in seemingly random events. Turns out my life has been taking me up a track and I’m now at the top. My life is headed for some real ups, downs, turns, and even some upside down moments. Things are changing. When the coaster takes off from the track there will be no stopping it. I don’t know how long it will go and what the course looks like. I’m dropping my baby off at college on Sunday, a new school year is starting, I’m thinking about the future in my career and all sports and school craziness starts soon. I know that my body will react. It will try to shut down and protect and I’ll do some eye closing, I’ll stop breathing, I’ll scream and hit, maybe even try to get off the ride, but I’ll have no choice but to ride it out. When it stops, I’ll have to remember how to breathe again. I’ll have to remember to be grateful to my body and my nervous system for always trying to protect me instead of shaming it for being too over reactive or over protective. I’ll have to remember to be proud of myself for being scared and doing it anyway. I’ll have to remember to savor the moments when I’m not falling and holding on for dear life and that those are the times to throw my hands up and give a laugh and enjoy the view. I have to remember that my adrenaline hangover is real and that I need to rest, be kind to myself, and to release that from my body as much as I can when I am able.

I’ll take your encouraging words, your hand holding, your hugs, your good vibes, your understanding, and your refusal to let me unbuckle and jump mid-ride as I proceed through this year of change for my family. It helps to ride the roller coaster with a friend, especially a friend who doesn’t mind my screaming, swearing, and inability to open my eyes at times. A friend who understands that I want to have fun, I really do, but that my body is a fine tuned self-preservation machine that lets me know when there is danger also and doesn’t hesitate to let me know.

If you are on your own roller coaster and you aren’t feeling like throwing your head back and laughing just know that I’m right there with you, death grip on the rail, barely breathing but brave, and so are you.

Leaving The Nest

This was my first article I ever wrote to be published on theodyssey.com/selflovebeauty on August 29, 2016. I can’t believe it has been three years and my baby heads off to Michigan State in a few weeks. Now it will be me loading the car and sending her off. More thoughts on this later but for now enjoy my old post.

Will my child be ready for college?

Today I was out running and decided to do a cool down lap. As I got closer to a neighbor's house I noticed a U-Haul trailer behind their SUV. The dad came out of the house carrying a flat screen TV and his son followed carrying a homemade Green Bay Packers fleece blanket. I yelled "Stealing TVs again?" and they laughed.

"Stealing a lot more than TVs" the son yelled back.

I kept running around the circle and passed another neighbor trying to shove one more thing in the back of her SUV. I couldn't see anything but crap stuffed in around a couch. The daughter was sitting on the floor of the garage with headphones on, packing stuff in boxes.

Maybe because I had been running and was too distracted with feeling like I might die at any minute but it didn't occur to me what was happening at the first house. However, when I saw the second car packed up, I realized it was college move in weekend. For the first time ever it occurred to me in a real way that my child will be heading off to college in a few years.

She is starting tenth grade this year, so I have some time, but I couldn't help but feel fear. Is she going to be ready? Will she make it on her own? Have we been preparing her? Where will she go?

I am having the same small panic attacks at the thought of my 5-year-old twins going to kindergarten this year. I started panicking that I haven't started a new school bedtime routine yet and I didn't get to do everything I ever wanted to do with them before they went off to school for five full days a week.

So I had to have a little talk with myself. I often have to remind myself not to panic and let the 'what if's' control my mind.

For my fifteen-year-old daughter, I was thinking to myself; Did we spoil her?; Does she know how to use a rape whistle and pepper spray?; Does she know what meth is and how to say no?; Can she handle herself at a raging party?; Can she do laundry and cook anything?; And boys...oh my goodness, unsupervised time with boys, will she ever be able to make it without us?

Then I immediately thought to myself, that stuff doesn't matter. I know in my heart all that matters is that she knows we love her. It matters that she knows she is an awesome person and that she can trust herself. It matters that she knows when to ask something bigger than herself (God, the universe, whatever she chooses to believe in) to guide and help her on her path. It matters that she has a tribe of people that love and support her no matter what she does or doesn't do.

My body started to relax and the pit in my stomach softened. She has all of that stuff already. I've spent my life for the past 15 years teaching her that she was awesome.

How did I teach that? My eyes lit up when she came in the room. I told her I missed her when she was gone. I went to her art shows and dance performances, plays, cross country and track competitions. I hung her artwork on my wall and kept macaroni portraits of me in my nightstand. I took her paper doll she made me with me to Italy and took pictures with it everywhere. I made her special breakfasts during school testing.

I've spent the last 15 years hugging, kissing, cuddling, and loving on her. I leave her encouraging notes and I give her homemade cards. I tell her I love her every night, so that she doesn't have to wonder how I feel about her.

She has watched me struggle with faith and religion. I've been honest with her about the struggle but let her know that I believe in something bigger than me. I believe we are protected and guided and loved. I have a spiritual practice that she sees me practice daily and she respects it. I have told her that I would join any church or practice any faith she wanted to support her in her spiritual journey. She has her own and I'm not even sure what it is. I trust her and I know it fulfills her.

Her friends are amazing and so are mine. Our tribe is strong. It consists of family, friends, community, and school. When I go to the honors assembly at school, I see the familiar faces of all her friends there too because they all support each other and expect each other to do well. When we go to cross country meets or track meets, I'm inspired by how they support each other and lift each other up. Those teams even encouraged me to start running for the first time in my life at 38. Her friends don't even drink soda because they want to be healthy (what???). Our families come to every birthday party and important life event for us. We have a tribe and I know that she will seek that out no matter where she is because that is what she has lived.

Please don't mistake all these good things for perfection. We've had our share of challenges in life and made plenty of mistakes. But I'm thankful for this day, even for my mini-panic attacks, because it forced me to look at the reality of our life. The good and the bad. There are things we need to work on like budgets, driving, and independent living skills. I am thankful that I have more time with her. I am thankful that there will be more lessons for both of us. It is an honor watching her grow and I can't wait to see who she will be when she finally does leave the nest and start off on her own.

She will be ready and I will be ready.

Who Are You Letting Cut Your Trees?

Whatever you are not changing, you are choosing. - Lori Buchanan

July was a MONTH.

When I say I was being tested, I mean it. It was exam month and there were some very strange tests. One of the most revealing tests was the cutting of my trees. Not figuratively cutting my trees but the actual physical cutting of my trees in my yard.

I was floating in my pool on my unicorn float when I looked over and noticed that a whole branch of my favorite tree was cut off. I said out loud “What the hell happened to my tree?” My eight year old daughter replied “Oh yeah, the neighbor told daddy the other day that she trimmed our tree and was that okay?”

Was that okay? My brain exploded. I am an adult and I have the understanding that if you have a tree in your yard that hangs into another person’s yard, that they are allowed to trim it so that it doesn’t interfere with their mowing or if it is damaging their property. This was not that. A whole limb was missing that was completely on my property, facing my house. I love my trees and I love them to be as wild and natural as they need to be within reason. This is my weeping cherry tree that blooms with the most delicate pink blossoms in the spring and brings me joy and delight beyond words. Cut, naked, vulnerable now to disease and insects.

The next morning I get a message that the neighbor on the other side of me wants to cut the bottom branches of my pine tree and chop another tree in my yard down. My husband gave permission to cut the bottom limbs before asking me and I was upset. Like I said, I like my trees to be natural and wild. Pine trees don’t always have needles on their bottom branches but there is no need to cut them off. The other pine tree they wanted to cut down only has needles on it’s top 25 percent but it is still a living tree. I have no desire to cut it down. I was so distraught and upset that I just told them I had no desire to cut it down but if they felt they had to, go for it. I felt defeated and pushed but I did tell them that I at least appreciated the text since my other trees were just cut without my permission. They wrote back that they would wait on cutting the tree down for a bit. I cried.

I could not understand what the hell was happening. Never in my life had I ever looked at my neighbors landscaping, flowers or trees and decided that I could tell them what to do with it or just do what I wanted and tell them they were welcome that I took care of it for them.

The next day I left on a camping trip with my friend. We had 4 hours in the car to talk about life. I talked about my trees, about my recent experiences with relationships in my life and the tests I felt I was facing. It was becoming clear.

BOUNDARIES

My trees, my property. My decisions, my life. My beliefs, my business. My no, back off. My space, get out. Your opinion, not needed.

The people in my life were ignoring, plowing through, disregarding, and disrespecting my boundaries and me. The trees were the simplest form of this boundary violation but also the easiest for me to grasp. It is harder to see emotional, spiritual, and psychological violations, but they were all happening in my life in July.

Physical violations that I could see were adding up though. My friend and I did a lot of hiking and started to notice that many people just walked right into our space and expected us to move. The first few times we were like, “oh, sorry” and moved over. Then we started to look at each other and notice that we were not even being seen. That people were physically plowing into us, just like cutting down my trees. I started saying out loud “Stop cutting my trees!” whenever I felt violated. It became my boundary call.

One evening we were at a restaurant eating dinner. There was a group of obnoxious drunk men sitting together near the entrance/exit. They were loud, inappropriate, and condescending to the waitress. She played along, as waitresses often have to in that situation, but they were gross.

When we got up to leave they all started harassing me about my Michigan State shirt that I was wearing. Normally I would laugh and joke like the waitress had to but not tonight. I’d had enough. I did not smile, I did not joke and I did not stay silent. Instead I just kept saying loudly “I wear what I want!” until I was out of their heckling zone. Step one of reinforcing my boundaries and letting them be known and heard.

Step two would be letting my neighbor know that there would be no cutting of trees on my property without MY permission.

Step three would be cutting off a relationship that was causing me trauma, emotional upset, and harming me spiritually. The person that I had to cut off was very dear to me and someone I had trusted deeply. This person had been a trusted companion on my journey of self-love, healing trauma, and spiritual re-connection. This step would hurt in execution but be very damaging if not completed. This person became unsafe to me. It became a situation where words and actions didn’t add up, commitments were not kept, agreements were broken, boundaries were disregarded and spiritual connection was used as a weapon. This person’s behavior was erratic and disturbing and despite numerous attempts at me asking that it not be brought to me, they continued to drop it at my doorstep.

The worst kind of hurt is one where your vulnerabilities and trust are used against you in order for the other person to justify their behavior, manipulate you into doing what would be best for them, or to try to make you doubt your trust in yourself. A close second to that hurt is when they ask you to explain how they hurt you so that they can “understand what they are doing wrong”. If you don’t know that cutting someone else’s tree down is wrong, hearing me say it isn’t going to help you, just re-injure me. When someone spends a month telling you that what you are doing is hurting them and to stop and go away and you in fact do not stop or go away, you cannot be upset when that person does not want to sit down and chat with you about why they are hurt. It is like chopping, chopping, chopping the tree while it weeps-then sitting on its fallen branches with sawdust on your face and in your hair, asking the tree why it is weeping.

I do not tolerate this in my life. Not anymore. Not after this July. If you have been told by me repeatedly that what you are doing is hurting me and you are still wielding your ax, do not expect me to stand there and let you keep chopping anymore. Do not expect tearful begging for you to change or my understanding of your good intentions for trying to cut at me. Just know that boundaries are going up without explanation. That my yard, my life, my trees, my spirituality, my emotions, my needs and desires are my business and unless you have been invited into my yard, my life, spirituality, by ME, you will be met with a boundary.

Finally, I want to thank my neighbors and my relationships, and my Higher Power for this lesson. I hated it. I cried, a lot. I lost sleep, gained weight, and lost a friend. In the end, I know I will lose more. What I am gaining is maturity, self-love, health, and trust in a power greater than me to bring into my life the opportunities to do life differently. I have gained understanding of who I want in my yard, who is there because they just want to celebrate it for it’s wild, natural beauty, and who wants to come in with an ax behind their back trying to change it. My voice that stands up for me got a lot of exercise and is now louder, stronger, and more resolute. I’m hurting but I am grateful. I have never felt stronger, more clear, or more connected to myself and my God of my understanding.

I hope my sharing this helps you find your voice, your no, and your strength. If it upsets you or makes you start to question whether or not you will be welcome in my yard, save us both the trouble and check behind you for an ax before you even make the trip, because I won’t hesitate to check before letting you in.

Be Well.

The Test

My last post was about being willing to go to any length for myself, my growth, my recovery, my health. I should have known that throwing that out into the universe would bring forth The Test but I always forget that that is how it works. So now I’m in it. The test of my word. Did I mean what I promised to myself? Can I stay strong when it all falls apart? Will I abandon myself and all that I’ve learned and experienced?

The answer is I don’t know. But I’m sure as hell going to fight and try. Here is a letter to myself that you may need to hear also:

Dear Carie,

We are doing some hard things. We are facing some dark challenges and a lot of change. I know that it seems scary and I know that you are absolutely terrified at times. But I’m here. I’m not leaving. I’m here to comfort you, protect you and love you.

We can do hard things together. We have done them before and we will do them again. We will be hand in hand, together, forever facing whatever we need to face to heal and grow.

We have done everything we can for others and now is the time to do for us. We will create safety, we will create healthy connection, we will do whatever it takes to take good loving care of Carie.

Love,

Yourself

For anyone reading this and wondering, what is going on in her life? What is she facing? What is happening? It’s okay to wonder but the truth is it doesn’t matter. The challenges we face internally may not be relevant to your outside life. Most people are fighting battles in their life that you will never know about. They are private. They are sacred. They are vulnerable spaces of internal healing. What matters is not the details but the fact that we share how we cope. That we share our hurt, pain, and healing. Some things are too close to be public, because not everyone in the public is safe with our hurt and pain.

Stay safe out there people. Find someone to hold you when it all falls apart, even if it is just a stronger version of you.

Be well

Carie

Willing To Go To Any Length?

“If you have decided you want what we have and are willing to go to any length to get it-then you are ready to take certain steps.” -The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous pg 58

I am on a journey. I’m not sure where I am going but I know the direction is forward. My journey started 16 years ago when I entered the rooms of Al-Anon. Al-Anon is group for families and friends of alcoholics. At the time I was living with someone who was drinking too much and it was having a detrimental effect on me and my mental, emotional, physical, and spiritual health. Joining Al-Anon gave me support, knowledge, compassion, and strength. It gave me a relationship with a Higher Power that I had long lost and it gave me a place in a community with no other agenda other than supporting one another through life. All of our lives had been affected by someone else’s drinking or addiction. We knew what it was like. There was safety in it, there was comfort in it, there was anonymity in it and I needed all of those things.

Through my years in Al-Anon I have realized that what brought me there was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to the affects of alcoholism on my life as a whole. It was a thread of my life since I was born and long before as I suspect that it has run in my family lines for generations. I don’t have proof of this and am not pointing fingers at anyone down the line, but there are behaviors present in families affected by addiction and boy do we have them.

My suspicion is that I marinated in a good stew of drama in my mama’s belly. Not to blame my mother, she had no more control over her life circumstances than I did when I was growing my own child in me surrounded by dysfunction and not even knowing life could be different. I don’t have blame in my heart, but compassion for all of us affected by generations of living with the affects of addiction, alcoholism, or patterns of behavior shaped by them.

So I’ve been chipping away slowly at this mountain of pain, some mine, some left over from previous generations, and some dumped on me by a society that promotes drinking and vice and shames those living out the effects of it all. When I arrived at Al-Anon I was just willing to show up. I wanted to feel better, but honestly, just tell me how to get someone to quit drinking so I could get on with my happily ever after dream. I was exhausted and not really in the mood for working on me. I didn’t know at the time that me was the only person I was allowed to work on. My plan was to work on everyone who was upsetting me.

So controlling, manipulating, stonewalling, withholding, punishing, and/or being a complete pushover were the only skills I had. I thought they would deliver results if I just kept at them with great gusto. As it turns out, none of these work (if you already knew this then thanks for not letting me in on this info 16 years ago). What they will do for you is destroy relationships, chop away at dignity and respect, and leave you exhausted and mentally, emotionally, and spiritually bankrupt.

Al-anon led me to a community that did not scold me for using these old trick in my bag, for as long as I needed to. They used them too and when we got together, we talked about how much it hurt and how could we learn to do it differently. There was no judgement because we all knew how hard it was to learn a new way of life in the midst of great chaos and generations of learned behaviors. It was my safe haven.

I used to go to AA meetings to learn more about the disease of alcoholism. AA meetings start with a reading of How It Works from the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous. This is where the quote above came from “willing to go to any lengths…” and when I first heard it, it struck me hard. I knew hearing it that we were all in the fight for our lives and that we were going to have to battle for it. I’m so glad I learned this early on and that I heard it with the severity that I believe the founders meant for it to have. This was life or death.

I have chosen life. At all cost, and believe me the costs have been great. I am willing, at all times, to do whatever it takes. I’m fighting for me. ME! ME! I’m worth losing everything else for. I will go to any length for myself.

Do I sound selfish? I don’t care. The most loving thing I can do for myself and anyone I love is to take the best care of myself as humanly possible. When I am my best self, I can show up for you as a big giant ball of love and goodness ready to scoop you up and spill my goodness over onto you. When I am practicing self care and healthy boundaries, and self-love I am unstoppable. Who wouldn’t want that for me? I’ll tell you who, those who do not wish to be awakened from their sleep that keeps them in the unconscious behavior patterns they survive on. That’s okay. Just know that I won’t be stopping for you and your comfort, I cannot. I have seen what others in recovery and in healing have and I want it for myself. I am willing to go to any length.

I attended a retreat this weekend that took great bravery to get to. I showed up not knowing what to expect, who would be there, or how it would impact me. I trusted the facilitator. I knew what this person had awareness, love, peace, connection with God, healing and the ability to feel and connect in a deep way with others, and I was willing to go to any length to have those things for myself. I know that great change takes big brave acts of faith. I went and I participated to the full extent of my abilities. I pushed through fear, pain, tears, anxiety, upset, trauma wounds, and on the other side was love, community, connection, acceptance, healing and self-awareness. I’m so glad I went. My life will not be the same.

The picture above is me on the deck the first night before dinner. I’m a mess on the inside wondering if I made the right decision, if I had what it takes to do the work, and doubting my faith in myself and the people I was there with. But I could also hear the words in my head that I heard 16 years ago that struck me right in the heart…willing to do whatever it takes…and I stayed. In return, I reached a new level of healing in my life and found a new layer of myself that had been hidden away and pushed aside by the affects of addiction and trauma on me. Every bit of it was worth it and I look forward to more, hopefully this fall, on this lake, in this house, where I found more of me and people to support me in my search.

Giving Joyfully

If not given in joy, is it even a gift?

I have spent many years in sessions and in recovery trying to find my inner child, trying to heal from past trauma, and trying to grow up. I have read books, listened to tapes, been in therapy, gone to meetings, and done a whole lot of journaling searching for her. I knew a lot of things in my head but they were not translating to my body and to my heart.

Recently, in sessions with a coach, I have been catching glimpses of my inner child. It sounds so silly to talk about myself like I am two different people, but it is true, I am. You are too. There is the part of you that you show the world (or you think you do) that is grown up. Grown ups get stuff done, they compromise, they are responsible, they take care of things, and they handle grown up stuff. I’m sure you all relate to that.

Your inner child is the part of you that resents those responsibilities, doesn’t want to do stuff, gets scared, wants her way, and pouts when she doesn’t. She might convince you to eat that whole bag of chips and stay up until 2 a.m. watching Hoarders not thinking about the fact that you have to get up for work the next day and fit into your work pants. She might convince you that you are always the victim and that people are so very mean and unfair all the time. She is a child, this is how she thinks (I’m speaking of my inner child here, but I’m sure yours is equally pouty and selfish).

My inner child is a stinker. That is how I thought of her. She was here to frustrate me and to distract me from sleep and convince me to do things that I would have to pay for later. She seemed hell bent on complicating my life and hurting my relationships. But I was supposed to find her, to love her, to heal her. So I would give in and stay up late, slack on responsibility, eat the ice cream, and not do the work. I would let her be mad and pout and throw fits. I was supposed to pay attention to her, right? I would give to her resentfully. I would give to her limitlessly. I would give to her without joy, but with reluctance and obligation.

If you are a parent or have ever been around children you know that they can see through you in an instant. They know when they are being appeased, they know when they are being lied to, and they know when you are telling them one thing but doing another. In other words, they see the truth and point it out to you. Have you ever heard a child call to their parents and say “watch me, watch me!” and the parent glances up for a second and then back at their phone? Children will not stand for this half attention. They will come and pester until they have your full attention. You cannot fool them with your half glance.

This is the dance my inner child and I have been doing for the last 16 years. I go around adulting all the time, looking important, acting busy, and getting stuff done. She yells “look at me, look at me!” and I glance up and then back at my important adulting. She knows I’m not really all there so she throws a fit. I am tired from adulting so I give in and hand control over to her. We end up on the couch at 2 a.m. watching crap television, eating junk food, neglecting relationships and responsibilities and running wild. I wake up the next day for my adulting and am angry that my inner child ran wild and free last night (my gift to her) and now I want to punish her, or ignore her, or just be resentful of her.

It is not working. It is like me giving my children the game “Hungry Hungry Hippos” because they want it and I want them to have it so they will be happy, but every time they play it I curse the game making gods for making such a loud and obnoxious toy that disturbs me to my soul and walk around with a chip on my shoulder and a curse on my lips every time they play it. This will end badly for all. It was not a gift joyfully given.

If you haven’t realized by know, I’ve been in a lot of turmoil. I couldn’t figure out how to do what I knew I should be doing, loving my inner child, loving the part of me that pouts and is loud, and makes less than responsible choices, and that needs and wants things from me, that I cannot figure out how to give without resentment. So I’ve been asking for help.

The help comes in the form of a coach/therapist that I see twice a week. We do a lot of getting quiet. Listening. Feeling. Making it safe for my inner child to show up and let me know and feel her. If you have never done any of this work, or seen a coach or therapist, this may sound a little ridiculous or cheesy. The best way that I can explain it is like when you are out in nature and you want to see wildlife. Maybe a bird or a deer or a chipmunk. You cannot just burst into the woods and demand that nature show up for you. You have to sit, get quiet, create space, become safe to the animals before they will show up and allow themselves to be in your presence. I have to create a safe, calm space where my inner child can emerge and do her thing, while I watch and observe.

The more quiet and calm and safe I got, the more she showed me. What I learned is that she is deeply, deeply hurt. She is lonely beyond belief, and she feels the burden of adult responsibilities and trauma like a yoke around her neck. She wants to be held and comforted but doesn’t trust anyone to do it. She knows too well that it will be seen as weakness and used against her, probably by me. It took great energy to sit in these feelings without justifying my behaviors, without judging myself, and without trying to tell her it couldn’t be as bad as she thinks. We do this to children. We don’t want to witness their pain, especially if it comes from us, so we minimize their feelings. I didn’t want to face her and her pain, but with help, I did.

The longer I could sit and not judge or minimize or punish her for having her feelings and her pain, the more she trusted me and came forward. I started to get a picture of who she was and I really liked her. In fact I loved her. She was wild, honest, funny, stubborn, feisty, and loving. I started to see her as someone I needed to honor and protect, not repress or let run wild with no adult supervision. I started wanting other people to meet her, so I would allow her to be seen in protected, safe spaces with people I trusted with her. Sometimes it didn’t work out so well and I had to decide how I was going to protect her and not allow my frustration at not being seen or accepted to push her down or deny her. Just like parenting, it has been joyfully exhausting.

Enter the kitten.

We were camping at a friend’s property and there was an abandoned barn kitten. This was a tiny kitten that would not make it on her own if left. My inner child screamed at me to take it home. I ignored her. I told her that there were allergies in the house, it was horrible timing, people might get mad at the intrusion and inconvenience. I left without the kitten. I broke my inner child’s heart.

I went home and did some real work at sensing my inner child, and my inner critical parent. The critical parent in me judged my inner child as silly and selfish for wanting that kitten. Didn’t she know that our husband was allergic, we had a dog who had never been around cats but chased anything that moved in the yard, we had a graduation party to put on and no time for feeding a sick baby kitten? I had to squash the idea. I had to break her heart. How could I be so inconvenienced by her?

Then while sitting with her, I decided to put aside all my judgments and all my excuses and just listen to her heart. She needed me to prove to her that I could give to her in a joyful way just because she was worth it. She NEEDED that from me, because I had never demonstrated that to her before. I had given to her, yes, resentfully, full of judgement and punishment after the fact. She needed to be listened to. Her heart full of love and compassion needed to be seen, validated, and supported in a loving, joyful way.

I expressed this to my husband and we agreed that I would go get the kitten and give her a chance at life. I picked her up on a rainy night just before the busiest week of my life. My adult responsibilities were to wrap up my work for the school year, bake for end of year parties for my children, finish all work to put on a graduation party, finish the soccer season and baseball season and track season for my own children, host out of town guests, attend my therapy sessions, etc. How could I give this to her? It was ridiculous.

Pursuing someone’s heart makes you do ridiculous things. And you don’t care that they are ridiculous. You just want to show that person that you love them so much that you would do ANYTHING for them. It doesn’t matter if it is ridiculous, or convenient, really difficult, you do it. You do it joyfully and with great enthusiasm. I wanted to give my inner child something she had never had, a big giant sign of love with no strings attached. No punishment or payment to be collected later. Not this time. This gift was free, given out of pure love.

I had to decide (adult me) to NEVER burden my inner child with my hardships over this decision. Was I tired at 1 a.m. when I was feeding the kitten, you betcha. Was I stressed trying to figure out how I was going to fit in the feedings and snuggles every three hours when I had to be at work and soccer and baseball, you betcha. Was I annoyed and frustrated when others were judgmental and vocal about my decision to take in the cat, 100%. But I handled it. I did not once take my frustrations out on my inner child. I remembered my commitment to give her this experience of rescuing a baby kitten and nursing it to health with great joy and no punishment.

I allowed her, and still allow her to fully enjoy every moment she has with this darling kitten. The wonder at every movement and milestone, to celebrate each new thing. I allow her to fall asleep when she snuggles with her kitten, and I allow her to play. I close her ears to the judgement of others and remind her that I am fully on board and am enjoying her delight every minute of the day. She trusts me too much now for me to destroy it. I could not be happier than when I am allowing her to come forth without fear and love on that kitten.

The result has been that my own children are able to come forth and love this kitten (and of course our dog Beans too) with great joy and wholeheartedness. The giggles and squeals abound and our home is joyful like it has not been in a while. We are unapologetically in love with this kitten. We are open heartedly loving her with everything we have, even knowing that we cannot keep her forever. We are not holding back and it is beautiful.

There are some things that you cannot learn unless you do them. I’m so glad I decided to stop trying to learn about my inner child and just decided to meet her and love her and give to her, in a real way, what she has always needed from me. She has needed action, protection, love and appreciation. She has needed me to see her big, wild, beautiful heart and to let her express it while I protect her from judgement.

There was no way to learn this without jumping in and doing it. It has been difficult to keep my judgmental, fearful, and wounded self in check so that I do not bring my adult problems to my inner child. But with help, I have done it. And I think my life just changed 100% for the better because of it.

This little kitten was a gift, given joyfully from God (or the Universe) to me. I have taken it and given it joyfully to my inner child and in return, the experience has joyfully blessed my home. Our hearts may break when it is time for her to leave us, but it is only because they are so beautifully open to our love for her right now. It is the only way to love and give, joyfully with an open heart.

Joy to you my friends. May you have the courage to love something completely without holding back.

This is Smokey. I had to take her everywhere with me in the beginning. She was in my car and I looked over and she had her face up in the sun like this. My heart melted knowing I had given her that gift and in return, I felt the sun shining down on my face too, and giggled at the pure joy and warmth of it.

Darkness and Confusion

Embracing the darkness and confusion in my life is hard but I’m doing it.

The hard truth is that life can be dark and very confusing. I always thought I had to stay positive, keep my chin up, and make it better. Well that is exhausting and it doesn’t work. So I’m learning to embrace the darkness, the uncertainty, and the confusion. The road to this space has been long and it is still a work in progress but it is good.

We are taught early on that the dark is scary. I remember being so afraid of our basement, closets, and attic space as a child because they were dark. I would avoid them, especially at night and was afraid to go in them alone. I really thought something in there was going to get me.

I spend so much of my adult life avoiding the dark as well. I didn’t want to face my problems, look at my own faults, investigate or sit with the ugly and uncomfortable parts of my life. Nope, I was just going to fix it all and make it positive and light. I was willing to do anything necessary to force myself and others to be bright, cheerful, light, and positive. If it was dark, it was my enemy. I was always fighting.

I didn’t know it at the time, but the reason I was so afraid of the dark was because I didn’t trust. I didn’t trust that other people could be good even in the dark. I didn’t trust that I would be as protected in the dark as I thought I was in the light. And most of all, I didn’t trust my own strength to protect and guide myself through the darkness and confusion. I lived in white knuckle fear of anything that didn’t feel good and safe.

I can honestly say that I have been dragged kicking and screaming through intense darkness and confusion, and darn it all if I didn’t live. It is really hard to keep a belief going when you have mounting evidence to the contrary. I had not in fact died when I traveled through the darkest times in my life. I even discovered a strength and a beauty in that darkness that I never would have found had my life been all light and clear.

An example of this is living through a marriage to an addict. It was so dark, so confusing, and so character building. I made so many mistakes just trying to keep the darkness at bay. I enabled, I was mean, I slammed doors, I had zero compassion, and I betrayed myself. I accepted unacceptable behavior because I thought it would keep away the darkness, I didn’t know it was the darkness. Betraying myself was my darkest experience.

In that experience I learned that the only way out of the darkness and confusion is through it. As I traveled, I gathered a support system in the Al-Anon program. I gathered a strength I didn’t know I had. You know what, that isn’t true. I knew I was strong but I didn’t know I had the right to act out my strength to protect myself. I learned from strong women how to set up boundaries and to enforce them in service of myself. I learned I was worth protecting.

The darkness was where I found a Higher Power . I always believed in God, but I thought God lived in the light and that if I was in the dark, it was my own fault, like I had betrayed God or something. When I was in the dark, I reached out, not even knowing what God meant to me, but knowing that I could’t do it by myself. In those early dark days, I could not relate to the God I grew up with in the church. God couldn’t be a male for me then, I couldn’t trust men at that point in my life. So God to me in those early days was the sunset, the birds singing, the seasons changing. I went to nature to find God because it was the only thing I trusted.

That God was so good to me. Slowly leading me out of dark spaces, letting some light into my life. Lifting the confusion and giving me moments of clarity and direction. I imagined wrapping up my baby girl in a blanket of love and protection every time she wasn’t physically with me and praying that she be returned to me safely, and she always was. The evidence was mounting that this protection could be trusted.

In those dark and confusing times, we also had so much beauty. There was a rawness and a realness to our days that brought strength and love forward. I knew I was being led and protected. I knew I was also leading and protecting. When you are struggling and people reach out to help you, you see the best in people. You see community and you see compassion. And in suffering you realize that we are all in the darkness at different times and sometimes you help and sometimes you ask for help. It is our humanity.

I have been feeling a darkness and a confusion lately. There is darkness visiting me and people that I love. I have confusion and I have fear. There are times that I think it is too much for us all to handle and I want to just be transported to the light. But then I remember that nature has dark and light and they are about equal. It cannot be light all of the time. Darkness has to have its time and it doesn’t have to be bad.

I now know that I can trust myself in the darkness. That I will protect myself there and that I am guided and loved by a God that has my back even in the darkness, maybe even more so there. I no longer feel alone in the darkness, in fact I know that some of you are there too and that we will find the light again. And when we get to the light we will be changed because we have been in the dark. We will see the light differently. We will be stronger because we have traveled through darkness and confusion.

I know from experience that lessons are learned in the darkness. Boundaries set, strength found and often more will be revealed that will take us toward clarity and light. I have to go through a lot of anger, rage, sadness, upset, and sometimes depression in the dark. I’m not wrong or bad for feeling any of those things. I might feel differently as the journey goes on and more is revealed but I will not shame myself for how I feel in the dark.

Today I’m releasing some of my darkness onto this page, along with some of my light. I can be both. So can you. I used to hope I could out run the darkness and enter a phase of life that was only light. That was a fantasy and there is no out running darkness. Today I can embrace the dark knowing that it comes to mold me, shape me, teach me. I can enter it protected by a Higher Power who has a view of the bigger picture and never leaves me alone in the dark. Some times I’m in the dark because I need to rest. I can trust that darkness is visiting me and that the light will come too. And that there will be this dance of dark and light for the rest of my life, and it will be good.

Release

On the 8th anniversary of your death, I want to honor us both by doing it differently.

Our first vacation together to Busch Gardens Florida

January 30 is not my favorite day. For the last 8 years it has been a day of loss, mourning, grieving, and memories. It is usually preceded by a week or more of nightmares, lack of sleep and deep depression. My ex-husband died on this day and I had to tell my daughter her father was gone. It was horrible. It has continued to be horrible but I have learned so much, grown so much, and healed so much in the past few years. This year I am doing it differently.

I have a friend who has suffered a deep loss as well and she refers to the anniversary day of her loss as a “spirit release day”. I always thought that was a beautiful way to say it but I couldn’t bring myself to say that about Ryan. There was nothing beautiful about that day. I couldn’t see it if there was. Every year on this date I would spend my day broken down by memories and conflicting emotions. I felt anger, hurt, deep sadness and victim-hood, for myself and for my daughter. We were victims of our life with him and victims in his death. That was what I felt, saw, experienced, and I didn’t feel a release of his spirit or of ours.

This year, and for the last few years, I have been working with a guide to change. I wanted to get through and process the traumas of my life and to find myself again. I wanted to be free, to find release. Sometimes you need to be careful what you ask for because there is no easy way to do this. The body needs to process the feelings that were too difficult to feel at the time of the trauma. The body needs to experience it and then experience something new in the face of that old wound. I feel extremely lucky to have a guide who can be a safe person for me to relive, re-feel, and who provides me with a safe, loving space to experience it differently. So instead of feeling like I am drowning in grief and pain, I can feel the comfort of being completely broken before another human being and not having to be different, or just being witnessed in my brokenness and it not making them uncomfortable or making them feel like they have to make it better. The truth is that there is no making things better. Just sitting with someone in their deepest pain without judging it is enough, it is powerful. I learned that I wouldn’t die if I felt the pain to its depths. I had always thought it was too much so I wouldn’t let myself go that deep.

Over the last 8 years I have built a village. The village knows my story; they know the pain, the trauma, and the details. This has been a great comfort to me and has helped me get this far. This year, however, I longed for something more. I wanted release, I wanted freedom. So I asked for help in that. I asked to be shown a way and I have received it. It is a work in progress but I have started and I will continue.

About four nights ago I had a dream about Ryan and his family. It was familiar. The details aren’t important but what I was left with when I woke up was hurt, pain, upset, sadness, fear, and anger. There was one little thing that was different though, I also had a feeling like I could say no, I could do it differently. So I reached out for some support and made this the intention of my next session with my guide. I wanted to say no, I wanted to do it differently.

What I learned is that in order to do it differently I had to let a part of me die. I had to say good bye to the part of me that is the victim, not just in this circumstance but in all the circumstances of my life. REALLY???? But I was a victim. This was so loudly shouting in my soul that I couldn’t ignore it. And it was true. Terrible things had happened in my relationship with Ryan, in the divorce, in the years after, and in his death, to me. Those things made me build up an armor that I had so badly needed at the time. It was a shield of hurt and anger that protected me and my heart for years. It gave me the strength to go through with a divorce I didn’t want, court dates I didn’t want to have, confrontations I would have been too scared to have and to see truths that were being swept under the rug by so many. The strength to get through those dark days with my daughter and the pain that would continue. I loved that shield. I honestly feel that that shield saved my life and gave me superhuman strength sometimes. I knew that it saved my life and I felt stronger with it in my hands. I had needed that shield to protect me and my child and I don’t for one second regret picking up that shield.

Except now the shield has to go. It has to die. The anger, the upset, the hurt and pain that caused me to pick it up-it has been 8 years that I’ve kept it alive-even in the truth that Ryan was gone and the hurt (well his part in it) was done. How could I continue to be a victim of someone from the grave? Turns out quite successfully if I continued to raise my shield and carry around my victim story and the anger, fear, and upset that came with it. This year I realized that I don’t need the story or the shield anymore and I’m here to lay it down.

Ryan, I release your soul.

I release with it my victim story (as much as I can right now, but I will continue releasing).

What happened hurt so much because I loved you so.

I release my anger, my hurt, my rage toward you and those who hurt me in protection of you.

I release the chains that tied me to your disease (addiction) and that kept me from remembering us both as beautiful people before it grabbed us.

I release the fear that has kept a shield around my heart and prevented me from being loving, powerful, and free.

I release my story of being of victim even though it makes me feel naked and vulnerable and scared. I have relied on it for so long to protect me and I’m terrified to be without it. Yet I am also filled with a hope that I cannot express at the thought of a life free of that heavy, angry shield.

I know in my heart that you always loved me and our daughter and that putting down this shield, letting this part of me die will free your spirit as well as mine. It will make things possible for our daughter that wouldn’t happen if I kept it alive forever. I know you would want me to be free, to put that shield down so that love can enter, so that I can be more open to real connection with those that I love without them having to try to pierce my shield just to get to my heart. I know you would want my heart to be open and free. My husband and my children deserve my whole heart.  

Victim me, I release you.

I thank you for saving my life and for protecting me during a traumatic time in my life.

Thank you for the strength you gave me and the power you afforded me in times of fear.

Your services are no longer needed.

I release you in love and gratitude.

Powerful me, I embrace you.

I see you, I feel you, and I love you.

I believe in your strength and I look forward to living a life of vulnerability, free of being a victim.

I look forward to taking responsibility for myself and embodying the powerful woman that I have learned to be. I choose my life. I write this story. I stand in truth and power.

If you are on this journey, if you suspect that your victim shield is becoming too heavy to carry around anymore and you need someone to sit with you in your terrible truth and not judge you, I am here. I have no qualification except that I have had it done for me and want you to experience the same. I can sit in love, as it was done for me, and let you find the truth, that your are powerful enough on your own to change your life. To let that shit go, and to choose another way of being. I know the fear of letting a part of you that has protected you for so long die. I just know. And I know that you will live without it, and that you will thrive.

Happy spirit release day Ryan. I release you in love.

Today I will honor myself with rest, comfort, love, and naps because this is exhausting!

Not Every Day Will Be Your Best Day

Image credit: Google Images

I did the best I could today. It was not my favorite day. I’ve been feeling shame about it and I’ve been down about it, but I really did do the best I could. So what is the point of continuing to feel bad? I don’t know. I’m going to try to stop that, but even if I can’t-still the best I could do today.

I have been having a hard time with sleeping a full 6-8 hours at night. I’ve been having a hard time getting to sleep, having anxiety at night, and my C-PAP machine keeps malfunctioning on me, so I have not used it for a full night in a few nights. It will get  condensation in the tube and start spewing the moisture into my nose while making the sound of a coffee pot next to a microphone.

So last night I got about 2 and ½ hours of sleep before I had to be up with the kids. After I dropped them off, I lay down on the couch and slept until about 2 p.m.. Sounds like an amazing nap, but it was without my machine, so I woke with a headache and a sore throat. I didn’t think I would sleep nearly that long or I would have went to my bedroom.

I knew I needed the sleep but felt so ashamed of wasting the day sleeping. I cried. I was shaking when I woke up because I hadn’t eaten anything all day since 7 a.m.. I had lunch and started my day at 3 p.m.. I was feeling so much shame that I decided to reach out to a mentor for a little moral support. They assured me that all was well and that there was no shaming needed. They also reminded me to celebrate the small victories of today.

So, even though I did not sleep well and spent most of my day making up that sleep, I did allow myself to sleep instead of barging through my day on 2 hours of sleep (which is what I used to do). I started a new wellness program with a mentor and met my goals for that for the day. I got my emails sent and answered for my job. I walked the dog and started laundry. And I’m writing my blog, which I promised myself I would do today. I’ve cried when I wanted to cry and I’ve laughed and loved with my kids when I wanted to. I plan to eat dinner as a family and to have a restful night at home before attempting to put myself to bed at a reasonable time tonight. But if I don’t, that is okay too.

I also spent my sleeplessness watching the documentary “Surviving R. Kelly” and I feel good about that. It was hard to watch. It was necessary to watch. I am a survivor. I also have not purposefully listened to an R. Kelly song since the early 2,000’s. Just like Chris Brown, I refuse to support someone who abuses women-proven or not in a court of law. I feel proud of myself for having listened to my gut all those years ago and believing women. I am sure that watching that series has contributed to the uneasiness and shame I am feeling today also. It is all connected.

So I’m going to leave you with my mentor’s words:

“All good-go easy on yourself and enjoy your little successes today.”

Is This My Hallmark Movie?

Why reality is so much better than the fantasy.

This can be a time of year when I find myself comparing, judging, berating, questioning, and longing, mostly to myself about myself. I didn’t start my shopping early enough. I forgot to go buy an ugly Christmas sweater that fits me (I grew out of last years-another reason for despair). I didn’t get to the light show yet. I didn’t book any breakfasts with Santa. Nothing is wrapped. I didn’t contribute to the school Christmas party. I could go on and on.

This time of year can be very confusing and very difficult. I find myself setting expectations and then being disappointed by reality. I enjoy a good Hallmark movie every now and then but it also sets me up for feeling like something is missing from the season. I will not be attending a holiday party in a glittery dress, with heels and mistletoe. I missed my work party because I was cooking pancakes with 47 third graders learning about states of matter. I left with a ten pound bag of flour, a fleece vest covered in batter, and a strong desire to nap. Not very Hallmarky.

We went to Frankenmuth the other weekend and it was great. We went to Bronner’s (the largest Christmas store), shopped, ate dinner. Very Christmassy, but definitely not the stuff of Hallmark. Bronner’s was so packed that we had to have family buddies so as not to lose a child. The restaurant was so full that we had to eat in the basement in a room they threw together for overflow and had a very limited menu. The shops were great but my children were annoyed with shopping after the second one and there were constant complaints and whining until we finished. We bribed them with cupcakes to get to stop at the outlet stores on the way home but even cupcakes didn’t stop the North Face outlet meltdown that required a 10 minute cuddle on the bench outside.

My point? Life is messy. It is filled with the good, the bad, the real. I don’t need to compare my life and my experience to television. Television is someone’s dream scenario, brought to life by hundreds of people (and dollars) behind the scenes (even reality t.v.). I may not have made it to my work Christmas party because of the pancake making lesson, but I got 47 hugs and was told by a fifth grader that I’m cool because I used pancakes to teach science.

I may not have gotten presents bought and wrapped before Thanksgiving but do you know what I did do? I stayed present to my family. I spent week nights helping my son learn to read. I created more space for my husband and I to connect, talk, and build up our relationship. I attended recovery meetings. I met up with friends. I met with a therapist and worked on healing the trauma of my past so I could heal, feel, move on and be present to my life and the people in it. I created hats. I put them up for sale. I painted. I created a logo for a business and sold it to them. I wrote and I shared my experience, strength and hope.

I helped my daughter reconnect with family members and supported her through that. I helped her process some of the realities of her life and past. I cried with her, laughed with her, and sat with her. I was fully present for her. I helped her celebrate choosing a college and start preparing for that part of her life. I took her to visit her college again so she could be sure.

I held down the fort while my husband worked hard and had a lot of business trips. I did laundry, cooked, cleaned, decorated for the holidays, took kids to football games, fed the dog, showered my children, etc. It is not romantic but this is the stuff of real life. It is what it takes to stay afloat everyday. It is the real magic of life.

So today I’m sitting on the couch with my dog curled up asleep next to me. I have a cup of coffee and a crackling fire going in the fire place. I’m writing my blog and it almost feels like the scene from a movie. Except that before I got to this spot on the couch I had to check in with my husband to make sure we are connected today before we go off on our separate paths, get two kids fed, clothed, medicated, and dropped off to school with a wrapped teacher gift, pick up a pile of dog poop from my dog who rang his bell to go out while I was outside gathering packages that had arrived for Christmas, and answer two texts from my high school daughter.

This is life. This is the reality. There is work to be done to have moments of calm. There are responsibilities to be met and people around you with needs. There is always something. I used to resent this so much. I used to think that there were people that lived differently. That didn’t have all this hard, real stuff to do all the time. But it isn’t true. I remember seeing an Instagram post of Gayle King’s showing a video of Oprah cleaning up dog poop from her bedroom floor-saying even Oprah has to clean up poop, and it made me so happy deep down inside. No one was having a Hallmark movie night at Bronner’s last weekend. We were all just doing our best not to lose it and stay cheerful. It is what it is.

So cheers to all the holiday warriors out there today who are trying their best to deal with the realities of life. To feel their feelings, to set their boundaries, to give to those they love but save something for themselves too. To those struggling to put gifts under the tree or just trying to find the time to wrap the ones you bought already. To those struggling to find a moment to breathe, let alone go to breakfast with Santa. It’s okay. You can let those expectations go.

Christmas is coming whether or not you are cheerful. Whether or not presents are bought or wrapped. Whether or not you had time to bake, and whether or not you get out your sparkly party dress or stay in your sweats all day and night. It will pass and it will be what it is. The next day will be about cleaning up, cooking, walking the dog, and yes, probably picking up something that you would rather not.

The real gift is to find contentment in the ordinary, in the truth, in the reality. I struggle this time of year with sadness, with loss, with trauma, with responsibility, with expectations, with spending money, with guilt. I can’t help the feelings I have. But what I can do is share them. I can look into someones eyes and say, this sucks and I’m upset. I need help and I need comfort. And if you have at least one person in your life that will accept that request for help and comfort, that will see you in your raw feelings and not leave you, you have a Hallmark movie already. You have love, connection, care, and safety. It is the only gift that will really satisfy you. It is the only gift that allows you to accept all that other crap, because you know you are not alone.

If you are thinking just now that you are alone and you do not have that support person in your life because they left you, or died, or are apart from you for some reason, do not despair. You do have the one person who is always with you no matter what, yourself. Mirrors can be sat in front of to find that pair of eyes that will take in your pain and requests for comfort. Arms can be wrapped around oneself, hands can be placed on hearts, and compassion and support given to ourselves. Blankets can warm, books can be friends, and paper can hold expression. I have learned this year that I can do all of these things for myself if I just take the time to be present to me.

I wish you all love, warmth, reality, acceptance, and a sense of humor about dog (or toddler) poop!

Carie

A Letter To Alcohol During This Season Of Celebrations

It's Complicated

Dear Alcohol,

What can I say, it's complicated. Some days I love you, some days I hate you. I guess all relationships are this way but I feel like ours is more bad than good. I just keep trying to think of a good reason to have you in my life at all and I'm struggling. You probably don't understand because well, you can't think, but I'll try to explain.

Our first introduction was pretty awkward and crappy. You would take people I loved and turn them into people who were either funnier than in every day life, or you would turn them into people I didn't want to be around. You seemed to make some people really happy and giggly, but others angry and dangerous. I was little and it was confusing to me. I liked happy people and thought they should maybe even drink more often. I hated mean people and I thought they shouldn't drink at all. My conclusion as a child was that it must not be you, the alcohol, it must be people. Some were just happy and some were just mean.

When I started drinking you, I thought you were magic. You made me feel like everything was funny, all people and parties were fun. You took away that voice in my head that said things weren't a good idea. I thought we were having so much fun. Until we weren't. You also made me do stupid things and endanger my life and health. You made me feel alive at night but dead the next day. Our relationship seemed bitter sweet.

I started hating you when you took the person I loved, grabbed a hold of him and wouldn't let go. You stole him from me and I will never forget that. I will never forget how you took him from a sensitive, funny, loving human and made him a lying, hardened, dangerous man. The cruelest thing that you did was to let me think that I could have him back, only to snatch him away again. I had lost him to you and had to walk away.

Your cruelty didn't end there. You are relentless when you get someone in your grips. It continued for years. From a distance I had to watch the person that I loved wander this earth as a lost soul, trying with all his might to shake you and failing every time. In your final act of heartlessness, you stole him for good. His death a painful reminder of your power.

I thought even through all these years that I could turn to you when I had a rough week or wanted to celebrate something. But it is hard to enjoy putting something into your body that you hate. I wanted to be like other people, use it to get happy, celebrate, or create some romance. I wanted you the most when I went on vacation and was hoping to get away from it all. But you are a dirty little bugger, and you couldn't even let me enjoy that. I don't have a drinking problem. I have an I hate alcohol and what it does to people so it is hard for me to drink it problem.

So sometimes I feel like I'm the only person on the planet that knows the real you. The wolf under the sheep's clothes. I wish I didn't. I guess I'm happy for those who don't yet know the real you and how you steal everything that is good and decent in life. For those who can enjoy you over dinner and go home and have no consequences, I'm glad. I wish I had never seen the things I saw, never felt the things I felt, never witness the destruction I witnessed. To date you have stolen more people from me than I can count on one hand, and I hate you for that. Those people were mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, husbands, and wives. They had mothers and fathers and none of them will ever be the same.

I don't like to lose. I don't want to admit that you have traumatized me and created in me an irrational response to your existence in my brain. I hate that I feel so helpless and confused sometimes. I hate that you appear so alluring and to this day I try to talk myself into not knowing all that I know because it is more socially acceptable to drink you than to not. But do not think that you have won yet.

I am getting better. I am wise to you. I am remembering more and more of that girl I used to be before you got in my head. You may not ever go away completely, but I'm finding the tools to shrink your power in my life. I cannot bring back the people who are gone, or stop those who will follow, but I can decide how to take care of me. I don't know where that leaves us, like I said, it's complicated. But I know that I have to do what I have to do and that may or may not ever involve you.

Love,

Carie

Cover Image Credit: Locally Healthy

Taking Care of Myself

It has been a long road to learn how to take good care of myself.

I used to love this picture. I thought I looked amazing. I had done one year of weight watchers and had gotten to my goal weight of 130 lbs. I had actually gone below it when this photo was taken. My size 6 jeans were baggy and my goal had been to get to an 8. When I looked at this photo and the others that were taken, I thought, I did it! I was healthy and thin. Well one of those things was true. I was thin.

I was not healthy in most ways. Weight Watchers had taught me a lot about portions, good fats, drinking enough water, etc. but I was also using sugar substitutes, starving myself if I wanted to have birthday cake that night, and obsessing over everything I put in my mouth. I was not really exercising just restricting my food. Yes I learned some things about cooking and eating healthier, I was also super annoying about where I ate and what and cried a lot because I wouldn’t allow myself to eat what I wanted.

At this time I was also living with chronic pain. I had lower back and abdominal cramping and pain daily. I sat with a heating pad on my mid section on most days and had a lot of stomach issues. Turns out I had a cyst on my ovary that was very angry and endometriosis. It took many months of me getting ultrasounds, images taken of my mid-section, etc. for this to be diagnosed. My periods were unbearable and heavy and I was miserable most of the time.

So I had surgery to remove the cyst one week before this picture was taken. SURGERY-to remove a part of my body. I remember asking the doctor if I could travel because we had planned to drive to St. Louis Missouri for thanksgiving to be with family. I remember the doctor looking at me strangely and saying “you can if you want to”. It had not occurred to me that we wouldn’t. One week was enough. I could do this. I could rally.

My restrictions were that I had to rest, not drive, not lift anything heavy, and not do stairs or do anything strenuous like sweeping, vacuuming, or carrying laundry baskets up stairs. I allowed myself two days of rest. I slept in a chair and let others care for myself and my children. After that I started testing and pushing what I was supposed to do. I started doing housework, I was going up and down the stairs, etc.

Less than a week after surgery, we were in the car headed to St. Louis. I was in a lot of pain. I couldn’t take the pain meds the doctor gave me because they made me dizzy and nauseous. So I had my heating pad, my pillows and my Advil. I was supposed to wear loose fitting clothing. Nothing like jeans that could pull at or irritate my stitches.

The first time I really broke the rules my doctor gave me was at a rest stop on the way when I lifted my two year old daughter onto the toilet. I felt immediate pain and regretted it. But I thought, what am I going to do? She cannot reach the toilet herself. It never occurred to me to ask my other child to help or to have her go with my husband.

This continued. We were potty training twin two year olds. I lifted them on and off the toilet that whole trip. And I was in pain and I was bleeding more than I should have been because of it. Also that trip, I did not rest. I went to a park, a children’s museum, out to eat, and to get family pictures taken. Just before this picture was taken, I had taken my child to the bathroom, which meant I lifted her up. I had started bleeding an alarming amount in the bathroom but just doubled up on pads and vowed to take it easy.

I lied to myself. I wore jeans, I got onto and off of the ground posing for family pictures, I lifted up and held my children for cute pictures and totally threw my body under the bus. And I can guarantee you that I did not rest after.

When I got home after that trip, I was worse off than before I went. I wasn’t healing. How could I? On top of that we found out that the ovary they removed during surgery was the only one I had. I was thrown into menopause and was told I would need to be on hormone replacement therapy for the next 20-30 years of my life.

My body did not know what to do with this new information. I was in pain, bleeding, depressed, having mood swings, hot flashes, insomnia, memory problems, foggy brain, zero sex-drive, and no idea how to live in the body and brain I just inherited.

Needless to say, that was a rough year. I’m just now starting to forgive myself for how I treated my self and my body that year. I hated it and abused it. I fought against it, didn’t listen to it and pushed it to its limits.

A few years later, I would find myself at the bottom of a pit of depression that would threaten my quality of life in a very real way. Years of neglecting to take care of myself, maybe even a lifetime of it, had caught up to me.

I got help. Doctors, medications, therapists, friends, family, and God, all had a part in helping me out of that hole. Sometimes years have to pass before we can see and know what was really going on. I used to look at these pictures and long for that body, that hair, that skin but now I look at it and am grateful not to be her anymore.

I often think that I would give anything to be a size 6 again and to have a smaller body, but would I? Would I want to go back to crying in restaurants because everyone else ordered yummy food and I was eating another salad with fat free dressing? Would I want to go back to beating my body into submission and pumping it full of artificial sweeteners and Diet Coke? To forcing it past it’s limits and ignoring its signs that I was doing damage?

No. I’ll take this.

Me. In a pants size I4-18 depending on the store. Me, smiling because I’m really happy. Me, having eaten pizza with my family and not cried in my salad. Who was that tiny little body for? Me? I’d rather have this one than the abuse and neglect that came with the old one. This one is filled up with love, laughter, sadness, and healing. It is warm and comforting to my children because at the end of the day, it has been listened to and cared for and loved-filled up so it can give out. It is aware of its limits and it is rested.

I am writing this post mostly for me. So I can come back and read the truth every time I want to look back at that first picture with envy, with longing, and with self-shame that my body doesn’t look like that anymore. I need to remember the pain that came with that body. Because I have moments when I hate this body I’m in. When I cry in Dunhams because I cannot zip the extra large ski jacket around my hips and I wish for a smaller body. That little body was a wrapping over an ugly truth. My largeness of spirit and love I have now is requiring a different package. Maybe someday I’ll have both. A fit and trim body that is covering a huge, healthy, and radically loved soul. Maybe not. But for now, I’m doing my best to live in the truth. And the truth is that I’ve never taken better care of myself. I’ve never listened to my body more. I’ve never been happier with the level of care and attention I give myself in a physical, emotional, spiritual, intellectual, and creative way.

So I guess my last thought for those of you reading this would be, ask yourself what picture of me is more acceptable to you? If it is still the skinny me-why? Why after knowing the truth of the level of abuse you know I went through within myself is that still what you would rather me be than what I am? And finally, what do you do to yourself to make yourself acceptable to you and others?

Be kind. Love yourself. Take care.

Why Is She So Crazy?

Man, she is a real bitch. Wow, it must be that time of the month, I guess. 

---

Sound familiar? Maybe you have said it about some woman after you witnessed her behavior. Maybe you have thought it but not said it out loud. Maybe you hear this all too often directed at you. I am here to offer some thoughts...

I had an experience not too long ago on an airplane that brought this very line of discourse and attitude up. I wouldn't have thought of it as a lesson at the time but teachers and lessons show up in the strangest places and in the smallest of ways if we are open to learning. 

The Experience

We were boarding a plane from Dallas to Detroit. As we walked toward the back of the plane (we end up here often with three kids), I saw the following scene. A man was sitting with two little girls in the seats next to him. They were adorable and twins-I have no proof of this except that I have twins and I just know. There was a woman across the isle from him sitting by herself, she is his wife. They are speaking to their children in two languages and I'm not sure what the language that wasn't English was, but it doesn't matter. I am always jealous when I hear families talking two languages, so I liked them already. The girls were around two or three, again I have no proof of this, but I'm a teacher/mom and I just know. I can tell that they are spirited by the way that they are yelling loudly and climbing the seats. I like spirited kids who aren't afraid to play and yell and climb, so I liked them already. 

I always feel a connection to other families flying with children. I have empathy for those with young children because I remember those days and it is hard, and I have excitement watching parents with older children fly because I can see how it gets better and easier. So I can't explain it, except that I feel tuned into other families on airplanes. I hear them. I watch them. I pay attention. Maybe it is weird but I can't help myself. I study people. 

So the plane is about to take off. The girls sit down in the seats next to the dad and the mom is across the aisle. Seat belts are on, the family is chanting "I wanna go to Detroit" together, it is cute, and there is excitement for take off. My family is zoning out, and settling in, ready for the last flight of the day. 

Before the fastened seat belt sign goes off, and we reach our cruising altitude, all hell breaks loose. It is a hell that will last the entire flight and follow us to the baggage claim. If you were a passenger on this plane who was anywhere in eye or ear shot of this couple and their children here is what you would have witnessed:

multiple trips to the bathroom sometimes physically pushing themselves in front of others in line

spilled drinks

yells to stop hitting

yells to stop taking snacks from their sister

children running the aisles

children climbing over chairs 

children standing on seats and refusing to wear seatbelts

a mother yelling repeatedly at her children and them not listening to her

a mother and a father bribing with promises of iced coffee treats for children in exchange for good behavior and threatening to take it away for bad behavior

screaming

crying

a frantic mother and a desperate father

a giving up and letting the children shred to pieces the safety booklets, barf bags, and flight magazines

upset and angry passengers passing judgement on these children and their parents

children placing their hands on the baggage claim system with their parents not even close to them to see what was happening

children running around the baggage claim, pushing others, grabbing at luggage, and trying to climb on the luggage carousel and other passengers looking around to see who the parents were and  physically grabbing the children to keep them from getting hurt

Y'all, it was stressful. I heard so many people commenting about, "Where was their mother?" and why wasn't she watching her children. I heard people call the mother crazy, I heard them say she was a bad mom and had no control over her children. I heard a few grumblings about them as a couple, but mostly the mom. She was also pregnant, if I forgot to mention that part. So I heard whispers of how is she going to handle another baby also. She was loud, she was frantic, she was emotional, she was crazy! Or so it seemed. 

The Truth

I'm sure if you have flown before you realize that sometimes you hear a little more than you would like from the people sitting directly in front of or behind you. It is like people forget they are so close to people and are fooled into thinking that everyone around them is wearing noise canceling headphones. My seat was in front of the mother of the two girls on this flight. I came off of that flight frazzled, stressed out, drained and triggered. Not because of the behavior of the little girls, or the mother really, but because of the husband. I'll tell you why.

As soon as the plane was in the air, he turned to his wife and told her that because he was a doctor, he was going to have to apply for his fellowship soon. I did not go to medical school so I'm not sure, but I think that this is the optional part of being a doctor after your residency where you can pursue a specialty. I could be wrong. This was a surprise to the wife. She kept saying "What? Why are you telling me this now? What does this mean? I thought you were done. Seven years, seven years I have given up for this and now you are telling me there is more?" He has no reaction to her except to start telling her that they will have to move for this. He starts telling her the options. Miami, Philly, San Diego, etc. and she is in disbelief. From what I gathered by what I could hear, she had the understanding that they were moving back home, which I assume was in New York or New Jersey since I kept hearing her ask about possibilities near there. 

As he is telling her places, she is getting more and more distraught. He told her they were going home, she has given up so much for his career already, what if she wanted to work too? He basically tells her she is being silly and there is no choice in this if he is going to go after his goals. He laughs at her suggestion of working, asks her what on earth she could do that could make the money they need to support their lifestyle. She starts to clam up. 

He then suggests that they live apart for the year or so of this fellowship. He picks what sounds best for him and he will come visit her on weekends maybe. She shuts down. She starts to agree with him. She gets sad, I can hear it in her voice. He doesn't notice. 

All the while, the kids are running wild. They are sitting next to the husband but he is ignoring them. He has no games, no food, no activities or things for them to do. He ignores them completely as he talks to his wife and reads from his phone to her possible places he would want to go. The mom yells at the children from her seat across the aisle and shouts bribes, threats, and handles all misbehavior. Her yelling gets louder the more he presses her on where he wants to go for his fellowship and by the time he has beaten her down with his suggestion that he just move away and do his thing, she is all out crazy sounding when it comes to her children. She goes back and forth between irrational threats and yelling, and letting them do whatever they want because she has given up. 

The husband occasionally tries to reign the girls in but usually only when the flight attendant is around to witness. He comes off looking like the calm, cool and collected one while the mom looks crazy and out of control. 

Two men in front of me discuss how bad of a mother she is and how she is making their flight miserable. They even turn to me at one point and say that they haven't heard my children at all like it was a compliment to my skills as a mother. They said nothing to my husband about his parenting skills. 

When we were landing (early I might add), the man leaned over to the woman and told her that they better get off the plane and get their bags quick because he had to get to work. Ummm...you didn't know you had to work? You scheduled a flight that would make you late for work? I was confused. As I stood to get off the plane, the woman pushed her way in front of me and my family to get off the plane first. My husband and others were pissed at her for doing that. Then at baggage claim, she was frantically circling the luggage carousel looking for their bags. The husband stood and looked at his phone while the two little girls ran amok. I heard him say to his wife as we waited (our luggage was late on the carousel because we landed early) that if the luggage didn't come soon, he was going to have to leave to go to work. She looked at him and said, "What am I supposed to do I don't have the stroller, I will have the girls and all the luggage?" He basically told her tough shit. She starts her circling again at a frantic pace.

In the meantime, her girls remind her that she promised them iced coffee treats. So she leaves to go get the coffee, leaving her husband with the kids. He does not watch them. They leave after getting the luggage and I hear people talking about them. How could she give her kids coffee, why was she not watching them close, can't watch your kids but make sure you get your iced coffee, reward bad behavior with treats etc.

Impact on me

This window into another person's world rocked mine. I could have easily explained it all away with it was just a bad flight, it was just upsetting to watch, but it was more than that. I needed to see this. there was something all too familiar in this for me, there was a truth in this for me as a woman. 

There is a saying in recovery circles that basically says how do you know someone is an addict or alcoholic? Look at their family, look at those closest to them. They will appear crazy. Their behaviors in reaction to the alcoholic are irrational, desperate, crazy, and often louder and more noticeable than even that of the alcoholic. So the person with the problem, comes off looking normal, and they act like the person who is reacting to them is crazy, over reacting, and overly emotional. 

I'll give you an example. When I was younger I worked with my ex-husband at the same nursing facility. At work one time my husband borrowed a cigarette from a coworker on our lunch break. I got extremely upset and tried to knock the cigarette out of his hand. I yelled at him and the person who gave it to him and stormed off fuming. I heard all of the talk about me from friends. I was angry, I was crazy, I was a bitch, I was controlling, etc. Nobody knew that he had drank too much the night before and then woke up feeling bad and took it out on me. I was verbally and emotionally assaulted all morning and afternoon until we got out of the vehicle for work. I had heard promises of quitting drinking and smoking all the way to work. This happened regularly. But no one knew any of that. They just saw me act out. I acted it out. All that we had been through the night before, the hours before, the days, weeks, months, and years before was acted out by me in that moment, and I was labeled crazy, bitchy, controlling, and he was labeled victim. 

This man on the plane spent the entire flight contributing to this woman's breakdown and she was leaving with the crazy label. She was judged. She would be remembered. He would be pitied for having to put up with such a crazy wife. You know what is crazy? A man waiting until he is thousands of miles above the Earth in an enclosed space with a whole lot of strangers, to tell his wife they have to move for his next career move that he forgot to inform her of. Crazy is breaking the agreement that you will make decisions together for the best of both of you instead of running full steam ahead with your plans while asking your pregnant wife of twins to sacrifice everything for you and not have any thoughts or feelings about it. You know what is crazy? A man sitting next to his children and staring at his phone and ignoring them while his wife, who is not sitting with them, has to yell over him to try to keep her children safe on a plane. Crazy is telling your pregnant wife with twin girls that you will abandon them in the airport if your luggage doesn't get there in time to work the shift that you scheduled too close to your flight arrival.

I started to be reminded in the weeks following this airport scene that this is how society is set up. Since forever men in power have been telling women that they do not have a right to make decisions about their own bodies. They do this with laws, with societal expectations, with media and film, they do this with medical degrees and they do this from the pulpit. Women are expected to quietly agree with this agenda, with these expectations, and if they could do that nicely with a smile on their face, that would be great. But have a woman stand up and say no, maybe with a protest sign or a lawyer, or a megaphone and they will point. They will judge. They will say, look at her, she is hysterical. She is crazy, she is an ungrateful bitch, she should be judged or silenced. Do you know how much we women have usually taken in and given up behind the scenes before we are mad enough to grab that megaphone? Do you know how many years of quiet pushing and taking, and expectation, and trauma and dealing with the poor choices of men in power that we have to endure to get mad enough to feel like we have nothing to lose anyway? I'll tell you it is a lot. It was a lot for me and I'm a white woman. Yes I have years of oppression by men in a power position in every generation of my family but it is nothing compared to what women of color go through and have gone through. I cannot imagine the restraint it must take for a woman of color to hold back the reactions she would like to have toward men in power (that means white). 

If you don't believe me, you can just read recent happening in the news. Just this week Ben Sasse, a republican senator, said that the hysteria of protesters at the Kavanaugh hearings was unfounded. Really, we shouldn't be upset that men have been telling us what to do with our bodies for centuries? (After centuries, of having someone take a basic human right away from you-you can tend to get a little upset). Or look at Serena Williams being portrayed as a crazy black woman after she expressed her frustration at being told she got coaching when she didn't think she did at the U.S. Open final. One of the first things she said if you listen to the video is that she always has problems at the U.S. Open. This was a result of being quiet for too long while people in power told her what she could or could not do as a black woman athlete. Really, I'm not even a tennis fan and I remember men tennis players yelling and throwing things and it not being a thing that we passed judgement on them for. It was just a boys will be boys kind of thing. People will not point to the man in the chair in power over her and talk about the crazy things he did to create the situation and probably many before, instead we will look to the familiar scapegoat: the crazy woman. 

I have often sat in judgement on women in relationships of the people I know. I will see her acting like a wreck, yelling, acting insecure, trying to control everything. He is all too quick to roll his eyes as she yells at the kids, or to act the victim when she gets upset at him in public, or appears to try to control him or his behavior. On more than one occasion my eyes have later been opened to the reality. It isn't always as it seems. Sometimes behind closed doors he is emotionally or physically abusive to her and she knows what will happen if the kids upset him, so she looks like a crazy person trying to keep them in line so they or she doesn't pay the price later in private. She complains about the him wanting to buy concert tickets and have a night out with the guys. Maybe at home he is hiding an addiction that is destroying his finances and job, and family life, and she feels hopeless but tries to control anyway. You see the control, not the ravages on their home and marriage that addiction behind closed doors can have. Or woman is a push over and is always so meek and quiet, even when it comes to her children. They ignore her and do not behave in public, then dad steps in, says one word and they fall in line. We think she is a wreck as a parent and he has it figured out, well maybe he has beat her down in front of her children and they don't respect her, but they fear him. I wish I was making these stories up. I'm not, I'm pulling from my real life experiences with people I've known. Sometimes it was me. 

From now on when I want to judge a woman about her parenting, her appearance, her behavior, her choices, I'm going to pause. I'm going to resist and I'm going to remind myself of "airplane guy". I'm going to remind myself that I could be seeing the outward manifestation of an internal problem. I'm going to look at the surrounding people and try to determine if it is possible that they are in fact the problem and the other person is just acting it out. I am going to do the same with my own life. Instead of just taking people's judgments about me and taking them to be my character defects that I need to change and work on, I'm going to take a good long look at the before action circumstances. The "how did I get to this" part. I want to know and see if there are any "airplane guys" in my life and start to correct that quickly. 

The last thing that I want to say about this lesson I'm learning is this, sometimes we give our power away as women. No one forced that woman to marry that guy. No one forced her to have three kids and give up her career to raise them while he went to medical school. She just slowly became less important in their daily lives by giving away pieces at a time, until there she was, on a plane looking like a crazy person while her husband suggested he leave her to raise his three kids alone while he chased his dreams of success like that was a normal everyday thing people do. Society tells her to stand by her man, to be nice, to value the lifestyle and income being married to a doctor can bring over her own desires. Society will tell us to give our pieces away as women, they don't tell this to men. They tell them to grab and demand the pieces.

The reason I was on that plane and saw and heard what I did was because I've lost pieces for years. Not because they were all stolen from me, but because most I willingly let go, thinking I wasn't being nice, or a good mom, or wife, or employee, or friend, if I didn't. I gave away until I was the one looking crazy, looking controlling, looking unreasonable or weak. I have seen the mirror and I hope that maybe I've held one up for others now. Once you see it, you know it and you cannot unsee or unknow. In the words of Oprah Winfrey "When you know better, you do better". Here is to better, for me, for you, for airplane woman and airplane man and their family. Just better. Having a right to my pieces and to demand them back. To say what I'm feeling, what I need, to tell the truth even if it makes someone else look bad, and to never ever believe that I am a victim of someone else's bad choices. I want to be more powerful than that. I want to box up some of that power and send it to that woman on that plane. If I could give her words it would be this, "No". No to all of it. No to you first me last. No to blaming me. No to giving me all the responsibility and all the judgement. No to you calling me crazy for having a reaction to your imposition on me. No to apologizing for having emotions and feelings and anger. Just no.  

photo credit: google images

Getting Lost

Sometimes I Get Lost. It's Okay. I Always Find My Way Back Eventually.

I haven't written on this blog since April. It makes me sad because this blog was a promise to myself that I would write. Not write in my journal, not write in private, but write out loud. I got lost. I felt the need to protect and stay closed. That is okay. It happens sometimes. So, I'm writing today not because I have nothing else to do, not because I have something amazing to say, but because I am loving and honoring myself. 

This picture above is me. Only mascara on me. Gray roots showing me. Freckles, soooo many freckles me. Weigh more now than I ever have when I wasn't pregnant me. Sometimes I find her hard to look at. She isn't what I thought we would be. I imagined her thin, without gray hair, and since a child I wished for my freckles to fade over time instead of taking over my body with a vengeance. The truth is that I look tired a lot. I have a double chin and my belly makes my yoga pants roll down without my permission. If I let it go, I would have a full head of gray hair and probably a full mustache (the struggle is real, ladies!) It takes a lot for me to look in the mirror each day and to not judge the person I am against who I thought I would be. Sometimes I want to hide. So I posted it. Not fishing for compliments but to show myself the truth, and that even though I do not look like I wish, I am beautiful and there is no one else like me. 

I'm on this self-love journey and it is not easy. Learning to love and accept me without judgement just feels weird. If I stop judging me won't I let myself go? Won't I turn into a chubby, tired, gray haired lady in yoga pants? Oh wait-that is who I am now-even with all the judgement. See, it didn't stop me from being any of the things I feared, in fact, I'm positive that it contributed greatly. Judging myself makes me feel bad, feeling bad makes me want to eat chocolate, chips, and chicken wings. Judging myself makes me feel like I'm supposed to be fixing myself and that keeps me up at night. Then I look tired-I am tired! Judging myself saps the joy out of my life because I don't deserve the good stuff until...until I lose the weight, wax the stache, hide the gray, etc. 

Maybe I'm just getting old, but I'm tired of this way of living. I'm tired of thinking I need to change to enjoy life. That I need to judge to motivate. It isn't working. Not for my relationship for myself or for my relationships with others. ALL of this applies to my relationships with others too. I cannot withhold until. I cannot force change. I cannot punish to improve. Ugh...this is not how I thought it all worked. 

Love. Love is the answer. Love and acceptance. I accept that today it has taken me countless hours of coffee and sitting to be ready to face the day. I accept that the clothes I will put on today have a size written in them that makes me feel less than, but I can still think my butt looks smokin' in them. I can rock my gray roots and know that they will go away tomorrow, but that I'm not any better tomorrow than today. I can accept that I'm going to give all that I can give today and that it is enough. Even if it is just writing a blog post, getting two kids to an appointment, and finally finding a frickin' Fed Ex store that can write me a receipt in this small town. 

The last four months I have been struggling. Hiding. Grasping, avoiding, learning, trying, confronting, then hiding again. All of that is okay. What is not okay is denying myself the promise that I made to myself to write. To write out loud, no matter what comes out. To connect with the world and the people in it by telling my truth. Thanks for reading. 

"If you ask me what I came to do in this world, I, an artist will answer you: I am here to live out loud." - Emile Zola