Blooming

This spring I fell in love with flowers.  My flowers haven’t lived long in the past because I didn’t really learn how to care for them.  So when I began buying baskets of hanging flowers and pots of assorted flowers this year, I decided it was time to really learn how to take care of them and keep them alive.  And I’ve learned some important things.

Lesson One

Flowers need to be fed and watered often.  I used to water them once a week.  Maybe.  The greenhouse ladies I spoke to recommended watering once a day at least.  Sometimes twice.  Flowers also need food.  I’ve never fed my flowers before.  This year, I started feeding them.  I put food in the watering can and feed them every couple of weeks.

Lesson Two

Flowers need to be deadheaded.  I never knew how to do this before or why it was necessary.  But basically, it’s just a matter of pulling off the dead flowers.  And different types of flowers need to be deadheaded in different ways.  Some require taking part of the stem as well.  When you remove the old flower, it causes the flower to bloom again faster.  If you want to keep your plants flowering, deadheading is an absolutely essential step.

Lesson Three

Repeat lessons one and two.  If you don’t continue to feed, water, and deadhead your flowers, they will quit blooming and eventually die.  A couple times this summer I had to leave town.  I got babysitters for my flowers, but it wasn’t the same.  They were getting watered, but they weren’t getting the full treatment that they needed.  When I got back to town, I always had to catch my flowers up and get them back in to shape.  And the longer they had been neglected, the more work I had to do.

This past year I fell in love with me.  That does not mean that I now moon about at myself when I look in the mirror.  Not at all.  But for years I’ve been neglecting myself physically and spiritually, and as a result, parts of my spirit had died.  So this year I’ve learned some very important things about caring for myself.

Lesson One

I need to be fed and watered regularly.  Part of this is actual food.  I’ve had to change the way I eat and live.  As a result, I’ve lost some weight.  I have a long way to go, but I’m on the right track.  But part of the feeding that I need is spiritual.  I have to have good stuff coming in to my life.  For me, this is only partially about church.  It’s also about having good friends who listen to me and process with me.  It’s about doing things like walking and riding my bike.  It’s about spending time with family.  It’s about being connected to others.  For me, this is essential food and water.

Lesson Two

I need to be deadheaded regularly.  I have emotional baggage.  I’ve been hurt and have adopted some unhealthy coping techniques.  So, I have to deal with this stuff as it comes up.  I sometimes get upset about things that shouldn’t upset me.  And when I do, I have to really think about it and figure out what dead flower is behind it.  And then I have to deal with it and pull it out. 

Lesson Three

Repeat lessons one and two.  Self maintenance is a continual process.  I have to feed my spirit regularly.  If I let things go, things get backed up for me emotionally.  If I go for weeks without attending to my spiritual needs, then more work has to be done later.  I also cannot depend on others to take care of my spiritual and emotional needs.  Other people help me process and can be energizing, but ultimately, I have to take responsibility for my own mental and spiritual maintenance.  I have to take care of me.

I’ve learned a lot about flowers and myself in the past year.  And I’m happy to report that we are all blooming.

Voices

There’s a secret voice inside my head,
Hiding in the darkest corner
Crouched behind boxes of old memories.

He watches my every move
And sighs.
Listens to my thoughts
And rolls his eyes.

I pretend he isn’t there.
And for a moment, I forget.
Thinking he’s the past.

But sometimes, he leaps out of hiding
Arms waving
Shouting, “STOP!
You’ll get lost!”

But today is different.
I turn anyway,
Tentatively
And find my own way.

Sometimes he tiptoes,
Creeping quietly
Whispering, “Don’t!
You’ll break it!”

But today is different.
I do it anyway,
Cautiously
And fix it.

Sometimes he swaggers up,
Looking at my reflection
Accusing, “You aren’t…”

But today is different.
I look back
Steadily declaring,
“I am…”

Tomorrow, I may listen
For a moment
And think he’s right.

But someday, silence.
Faded echoes
Of forgotten lies.


Written 1/26/11


Sometimes you listen to lies so often that you begin to believe them.  And sometimes the silliest of them can be devastating.  For example, I was told for years that I had no sense of direction.  I've told people myself that I'm "directionally challenged." 

A while back I challenged that belief, and it was very scary.  The day I wrote this poem, I was driving to work and stopped at Hastings for coffee in Canyon.  I'd thought for weeks that I could take a short cut through one of the side streets to get to my school faster.  But I was afraid to try.  I mean really afraid.  But after several weeks of thinking about it, and we all know I'm an over analyzer, I decided that the worst that could happen was that I'd get turned around and be a little late.

As it turns out, my guess about the shortcut was correct.  It was a very big day for me.  I know it seems small, but from then on, I began to challenge the belief that I couldn't find my way.  I've explored lots of short cuts since then.  And I don't recall a single occasion when I've gotten lost.

Since I moved back home, I've done a lot of exploring.  The area in which I live isn't exactly where I lived before, but it is familiar.  I've explored back ways to the main shopping center and to church.  And I've been able to find my way.  And I've discovered that I have a feel for where things are in my mind.  Now, I still have difficulty "sensing" north, south, east, and west, but I can point and tell you which direction my mom is, or my Supertarget, etc. 

There are a number of lies I'm doing battle with.  And it may take years before the voice is completely silenced.  But I'm making progress.  =]

Things I'm Thankful For Today

*My new office. ~ It isn't the big one I thought I had, which I'm glad of.  This one is more my size and feels like a hug.

*John ~ For hauling loads and loads of boxes at my apartment and school.

*Mom ~ For unloading loads of boxes at my apartment and school.

*Friends ~ For checking in regularly.

*My keurig ~ Because starting the day with a great cup of coffee is still a guilty pleasure.

*Throw pillows ~ Because they are pretty and feel no need to serve a particular purpose except pleasing me.

*Baskets ~ My favorite for organizing and storing, prettily.

*My new Italian friend ~ She reminds me that life is to be savored.

*Naps ~ Because I seem to need them after the craziness of this summer.

*Skype and FB ~ Helping me keep in touch.

*Old books ~ They smell good, feel good, and are essential decorating tools.

*Grace

FB Trigger

I hate divorce.  It is not glamorous, and I do not recommend it.  But sometimes it’s necessary.  Divorce is the death of a relationship.  And with death, there is mourning.  Grief comes in stages.  I’ve grieved the death of my father and understand that the process never completely ends.  The pain of loss eases over time, but the mourning comes and goes.  Holidays, anniversaries and other life markers can stir old feelings of sadness or loss triggering the process of working through familiar emotions in different ways.  This is a healthy thing.  It’s how grief and loss work.  And when you work through these different triggers and feelings in a healthy way, you grow.  Goodness, I sound like a counselor.

Last night I hit a trigger unexpectedly.  A friend of mine accepted my friend request on FB, so I went and looked at his page.  I got to thinking that he might be friends with some of my former in-laws.  Sure enough, he is.  One page led to another, and in minutes, I’d seen faces and caught up on more news than I have in over a year.  And it hurt like crazy.

One of the most searing pains of divorce for me has been the loss of family.  They say that when you marry, you marry the whole family.  The same is often true in divorce.  I didn’t feel like it was fair or right for me to “steal” family from my ex-husband, so I chose to let the relationships with all of my former in-laws go.  In reality, it's hard for people to be neutral in a divorce.  I felt like he needed that support system and hoped they would surround him with love.  But it has been very hard.  I'm very much a relationship person.

For many years, I had almost no contact with my extended family, but lots with his.  The cousins really got connected.  I went to all of the weddings and most of the reunions.  I loved them.  Truth is, I still do.  But this last year, I missed births and birthdays and anniversaries.  And that is hard. 

Another piece of the mourning is that I have no idea what those people whom I loved and respected think of me now.  I know in my brain that it doesn’t matter.  I’m good with me.  I believe God is good with me.  Other than that, it shouldn’t matter.  But “seeing” some of them made me wonder all over again.  And I’m going to have to let that go.

And that’s the point.  Grief is a process.   And I will continue to work through the triggers.  I’ll think.  Cry.  Think.  Crochet.  Think.  Process.  Cry.  And think some more.  And I’ll be better and further along on the journey.  But today, I feel what I feel.  And mourn.

Queen For A Day

One of the ideas that I heard over and over in my home growing up was of “giving up your rights”.  The idea was not living as if the world owed you something.  Sometimes you have to give up what you perceive as your “right”.  For example, do I really have the right to not be cut off in traffic?  Well, no.  I don’t own the road.  I share it with others.  Others who are flawed and who do stupid stuff.  So, if I believe that it is my “right” to not ever be cut off, then the 500 times a day I get cut off I’m going to be angry and/or frustrated.  What’s the point in that?  It's a simplistic example, but you get the idea.

I guess the underlying theme of that concept is being selfless.  My mom really wanted us to understand gratitude and selflessness.  She taught me from a very young age that serving others brings joy.  It is rewarding in and of itself.  This teaching came in a variety of ways, but I remember her talking about it a lot.  Doing a job for someone else can and should bring joy.

Mixed in with these teachings were training in the traditional roles of wife and mother.  My mom wanted me to know the joy of being a “good” wife and mother.  She wanted me to learn the pleasure of taking care of my family.  That sometimes even the dirtiest of jobs could be rewarding because of doing it for someone you love.

I learned these lessons well.  I am a people pleaser by nature, so the idea of doing something for someone else bringing me pleasure makes sense. 

But somewhere in there I think some of these good things went horribly wrong.  In some of my relationships, pleasing the other person by giving up my rights caused me to lose my self.  What I wanted and/or needed no longer mattered.  Except that isn’t really true, of course.  It DID matter.  But I was so focused on pleasing the other person, keeping the peace, that my wants and needs went mostly unfulfilled.  That kind of neglect isn’t sustainable forever. 

I’m not actually blaming this on anyone.  I made choices.  But having had the last year to reflect on my life, I think all of this is significant.  I think some healthy beliefs got polluted in my mind and in the pattern of my life.

The last months I’ve been doing things for myself.  Physical things like growing my hair out and tanning.  And emotional/spiritual things like “crochet therapy” and reading.  All in an effort to rediscover the transforming me. 

But I have found lately that it is something with which I still struggle.  I’ve moved and have been decorating my new place.  I bought new bedding for the master bedroom and things to coordinate in the master bath.  What I picked is totally me.  It’s beautiful and feminine, though not flowery or frilly.  There are ten pillows on my bed that I love assembling each morning.  It makes me feel utterly indulgent and peaceful to walk in to my home and see that pile of pillows neatly arranged.  And the Bath and Body Work’s  Lavender and Vanilla scent makes me feel like I’m at a spa every time I catch a whiff. 

But I must admit that every choice and purchase has been a struggle.  Not financially.  Target and Walmart are my friends.  But emotionally, I’ve struggled with buying things just for me.  Choosing things that I like without worrying about what anyone else thinks.  I’d ask my friend Kim about some small piece and she would say, “What do YOU like?”  And I’d have to stop and think about it.  It felt so selfish.  And frankly, I didn't always know the answer.

On one of our Hobby Lobby visits, we were looking for something to hang in my bathroom, and she came across a piece with a crown like a queen.  The colors were perfect.  I was hesitant.  A crown???  She said it was perfect because this was MY space.  My little every day spa.  I gave in.  Later I spotted a piece that said “hers”.  I joked about hanging it next to the crown.  Kim loved it, and I reluctantly gave in.  Though if I’m honest, a little part of me was pretty excited about it because I knew it would be cute and clever, but mostly, because it would have meaning.

Is there anything wrong with me being the queen of my home?  I’m the only one living there after all.  Why shouldn’t I choose what I want?  I can’t think of a single reason.  But it is still difficult.  It makes me feel selfish.

Transformation is a process.  I don’t think giving up “rights” equals giving up identity.  Though I do think it’s connected to taking on the identity of Christ.  I’ll keep chewing on it.  But for now, I find that the line between selfish and having my own opinion feels as though it were drawn by an ultra fine tip pen.  And while I am tentatively enjoying making these choices, don’t worry.  I haven’t convinced myself that I’m the Queen of it all.  =]

Crochet Therapy

Fingers cruise on autopilot
Leaving my brain to wander

Double crochet
Chain, skip one
Double crochet again

Analyze from every angle
Intricate details I ponder

Double crochet
Chain, skip one
Double crochet again

Solutions swim around my head
Shape, reshape, shape shift some more

Double crochet
Chain, skip one
Double crochet again

Tears may fall or laughter bubble
Emotions free to dive and soar

Double crochet
Chain, skip one
Double crochet again

Soon Peace slips in with tiptoe stealth
My shoulders and eyelids drooped

Double crochet
Chain, skip one
Double crochet again

Muscles  relax and breathing slows
Body and spirit regrouped

Double crochet
Chain, skip one
Double crochet and turn.

Written 4/28/11

Over the last year, I've had a lot of crochet therapy.  The first was just for me.

These were for the friends who most know my heart.

And my latest project...

Someday I'll write about the part of my healing each represents.  =]

Goodbyes

Over the past two weeks I’ve had more goodbye coffee’s, lunches, suppers, and drinks than I can begin to count. Now, don’t get me wrong, I am extremely thankful for the many people in my life who love me enough to want to have individual time with me before I move. And, a number of these engagements were initiated by me, so they were definitely welcome. I’m all about closure and marking meaningful events. But goodbying grows tiring. (hmm…I bet there is a poem in that…)

The old Boys II Men song has gone through my head a dozen times throughout the process. You know the one, “It’s so hard, to say goodbye, to yesterday.” Of course being who I am, I started analyzing the song and decided I disagree with it.

It’s not difficult to say goodbye to yesterdays. It’s difficult to say goodbye to those who helped me survive and cope with yesterdays…

*My counselor buddies who are my go to peeps when the scary stuff comes in my office
*The two ministers who have truly pastored me in the last couple of years
*My alto angel
*Former co-teacher who truly gets me
*Old teaching buddy with the biggest heart in America
*Church gal who has known me from the beginning.

And that doesn’t even include my very best friends. I can’t begin to think about goodbying them yet.

So I’ve decided I’m done with goodbyes. When my dad was sick and in the hospital, he didn’t say goodbye. He always said, “see you later.”

Well, I better go get ready for the next “Later” lunch.

Abuse

Who will know you’re hurt
If your wounds don’t bleed?
When your body aches with longing
And you are rejected yet again
And the shame squeezes tight
Choking out life
So that you gasp to breathe,
Who will see?

When who you are is lost
Erased by neglect and disinterest
Unwanted
Discarded
Replaced by something less
Someone weak and pitiful
And broken and scarred
Who will try to find you
if they don’t know you are missing?

Who will smell the fear
When you boldly speak the truth
Only to have it twisted with logic
Until you’re turned upside down
And inside out
And too stupid to know the difference?

Who will find you when you run
Far far away
Deep down inside
Curled up in a tiny ball
In the far away corner of your heart
Locked up tight?

Who will see the scabs
Grown over your bloodied trust
Making you doubt and insecure
Paralyzed
Flinching when someone gets too near
Your vulnerable places?

No one saw the blood
But it leaked out
Of raw and gaping wounds
A constant dripping
Oozing.

No one saw the bruises
That just barely began to heal
Green and purple
Before they were pushed and poked again
Like some sick game.

No one saw the tears
Or heard the body wracking sobs
Alone in the dark
Rejected
Unnoticed
Starved

I hurt.
I bled.
I scabbed.
I heal.

But is it real if no one saw it?
Is it less if it was only my heart?

Written 10/5/10

Feel What You Feel

That may well be the best advice I’ve ever received. And the very wise friend who told me this continues to say it to me to this day. Why? Because I suck at it. I so much want to please others that I often start a conversation with apologies. I start giving all the disclaimers about my feelings before I even tell you what I want to say because I don’t want to hurt your feelings. (The previous blog is case in point.)

But I’m trying harder these days to feel what I feel. If I’m angry, I want to hug it tight for a time and see just what it feels like. And maybe listen to a little Pink or Seether or Tool. (Yes, it’s true. I know who they are, and I occasionally listen to them.)

Now I don’t want to hug that anger too tightly and too long because it will just morph into bitterness which is so sticky and tar-like it’s hard to clean off. But for a little bit, I need to feel it. Because if I don’t let myself feel it, then I fool myself into thinking that I never felt it in the first place. And then I’m believing a big fat lie.

I got pretty angry with God a while back. I held on to it for a good solid couple of months. I’d talk to my mom about it and flat out tell her I was angry with Him. I know it bothered her, but she didn’t fuss me about it. I think she knew I needed to squeeze it tight for a time.

I gave Him the silent treatment. Didn’t talk to Him. Quit listening to Christian radio. Very mature. I showed Him.

I’m happy to say we are on speaking terms again, but our relationship has forever been altered. I question Him a LOT more. I fuss at Him regularly. I complain. I argue. And occasionally, I still give Him the silent treatment. Fortunately, I think He can handle it. I actually think He prefers the more honest me even if it is occasionally like dealing with a petulant 5 year old. But I digress.

My point is, I think feeling what you feel is a good idea. It reminds me of a wine tasting. I’ve not ever met a wine I like personally, but I’ve watched some of those tasting shows on tv. They always swirl it around in their fancy glasses and really breathe in the aroma. Then they take a taste and swish it around in their mouths soaking up all the flavor…before spitting it out.

I think that’s a pretty good thing to do with emotions. You don’t have to get drunk on them, good or bad. But I think you should really experience their flavor.

Disclaimer

Life is change. Over the past year, my life has changed dramatically, painfully, metamorphically. I’ve processed it with a few close friends and family, but I’ve also done a lot of writing. Those in my very inner circle have been my only audience, whether they liked it or not. But I’ve missed blogging.

I considered abandoning this one and starting over. But the more I’ve thought about it, the less that makes sense to me. One never truly has the luxury of starting over. There is no Mr. Clean Magic Eraser for real life. The events of our lives, and the way that we face them, make us who we are. Life is the crucible in which we are shaped, and hopefully, refined.

So, to abandon my original blog, seems to me, an attempt to Mr. Clean my past. I don’t wish to do that. Every experience of my life has contributed to who I am. I am not one to live in regret. I’ve made choices that make me beam with pride, and others that make me sad. But they were my choices. And I am at peace with them.

Just as I cannot alter the past, I also cannot deny the way the ripples of my life affect the waves of others. My nature is far too social for that. That said, I approach this blog fairly tentatively. Writing is an emotional outlet for me. Typically, I process things in my head and then with a trusted friend or two before condensing my thoughts into something written. That sometimes makes it all look neat and tidy, which is misleading. The writing is often the end result of a lot of hard emotional work. On the other hand, sometimes what I write is a sudden, gut wrenching spewing of emotional vomit. Not pretty.

Either way, it is a representation of my thoughts and feelings. No one else’s. It’s a glimpse into my head, my heart. No one else’s. It is the testimony of my life and thoughts from my view. No one else’s. I am fully aware that my view is not always shared by everyone else around me. It can’t be. Because my view of things is filtered through the lens of my past.

So there is this tight rope I walk with this blog. It is my desire to share of myself, my heart, honestly, without sugar coating. But, it is NOT my desire to cause pain to others. I don’t want my emotional vomit to upset someone else’s stomach.

If you are reading this, it is because you chose to. Just know that you will most likely be exposed to vomit, the stinky, chunky, projectile kind.