Challenge the System

In counseling, sometimes the best way to promote change is to challenge the beliefs of the system.  I’ve been challenging my own system lately.  And while I may be a family of one, I still operate with a system of beliefs that have been shaped by other systems I’ve belonged to over the years.

When you are young, asking “why” is acceptable and normal, though occasionally annoying to those whom you are constantly asking.  But some people, lots of people really, slowly quit asking that question.  There are all sorts of reasons to quit asking…you think you know all the whys, or you just want to keep peace, or you don’t want to make waves, or you don’t want to be made fun of, or maybe you grow tired of the answer.  But for me, challenging the system often involves asking “why?”. 

I challenge other people all the time.  I’m a counselor.  It’s what I do.  Listen and challenge.  In the last couple of years, I’ve started listening and challenging myself.  Asking why.

Last week I was putting some dirty dishes in the dishwasher and thinking about how I would have to wash my breakfast dishes the next morning.  I fix my instant oatmeal in these plastic cups that are the perfect size for microwaving without bubbling over.  But I only have three of them.  And what I do is use the three, then wash one a couple of times by hand.  For some reason last week I stopped and asked myself why I didn’t just run the dishwasher.

I thought about it, and the reason is because…you don’t run the dishwasher until it’s full.  Well, in my home, that takes a week.  But I need those cups after three days.  The more I thought about it, the more I realized that it was ridiculous for me to wait a week to run the dishwasher.  If the dishwasher’s job is to wash my dishes…why not let it?  Pretty dumb huh…

Not running the dishwasher until it’s full makes great sense in a big family when you go through dishes quickly.  Fill that sucker up!  But for me, it makes no sense at all.  So…I ran the dishwasher half full.  And the earth did NOT fall out of its orbit.  Nor did the ground crack open and swallow me up.  But the next morning, I had a clean cup for my oatmeal.

At this point you might be wondering what the big deal is.  Well, changing my dishwashing pattern is actually not that big of a deal.  But the idea of questioning how you do things…I think that is big. 

So often, we get stuck in patterns of living and functioning and continue in them because it’s how we’ve always done it.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for routine and tradition.  But I think that an occasional “Why?”, is healthy.

People

Like layered cake

Filled and frosted.

With iced masks

Of buttercream

Or fondant.

Delicate whirls

Of imperfect

Uniqueness.

Or smooth

Perfection

Draping.

Creamy filling

Moisty goodness

Sticking to the frost

Or flaky stale

Dried up bland

Hidden under gloss.

Signpost

I used to lie in my bed at night and cry and pray for my marriage.  I would go for a drive and cry and pray.  I’d beg and plead with God.  Make bargains.  Cry some more.  I have probably spent more time crying and praying for my marriage than any other thing/person in my life.

Four days before I left, a switch flipped inside of me.  I quit crying.  And my prayer changed.  As to the tears, I think I was just out of tears.  I’d cried for my marriage for so long that when I made the decision to leave, I couldn’t cry.  Crying opened me up and made me vulnerable.  And I had to be strong.  Stronger than I’d ever had to be in my life.  My prayer became really simple, “God help me.”  I guess those words became my cry.  My cry for help, strength, courage.  Survival. 

And then there was a time after I left when I quit talking to God much.  I was really ticked off at Him.  I couldn’t figure out why He’d allowed things to turn out the way they had.  I told my mom I was angry with God.  I loved Him, but I was really mad.

I quit listening to Christian music because it infuriated me.  The words all seemed to say that if you just trusted in Him, He would work it all out.  Well, it didn’t feel to me like He’d worked things out for me.  And I worked my marriage hard.  I begged and pleaded with God for years. 

I don’t think I’d ever been angry with God before this time.  With myself, yes.  With my ex-husband, for sure.  But not God.

Eventually, we worked things out.  Me and God.  We are back on regular speaking terms though the nature of our conversations has changed considerably…which is a topic for a whole different post.

But when I quit praying for my marriage, I quit praying for my ex-husband.  Until this week.

I heard through the grapevine that my ex is having some health issues.  He had a significant procedure done, and I’m told, might have to have surgery.  It’s not a life threatening kind of thing, but significant nonetheless.

So I prayed for him this week.  Not for hours or anything.  Just some simple prayers for his well-being.  I don’t hate him.  I never have.  I don’t wish bad things for him.  I had just quit praying for him. 

I think it’s an important step for me.  I think it’s part of the ongoing process of forgiving.  And healing.  And I don’t need praise for it.  Writing just happens to be how I process things.

I’m a big believer in markers.  Alters.  Heaps of rocks piled up to mark something significant on the journey.  This is my pile of rocks.




Addendum:  Added a couple of hours after the original post.

In my last post, when I was talking about being angry with God, I said I’d been angry with myself before and my ex-husband, but not God.  I just re-read that and knew immediately that part of the statement wasn’t true.  In fact, it’s something I’ve talked to a couple of my friends about and something I’ve thought about many times.

I didn’t get angry with my husband.  I very seldom got mad.  I got hurt.  I got frustrated.  But I didn’t really feel anger toward him until after I left.  That is actually one of the pieces in our marriage that I think I own as a mistake.

I SHOULD have gotten mad.  I SHOULD have gotten spitting blind furious!  But I didn’t.  Up until the last few months, I always thought everything was my fault.  And I realize that is quite a few superlatives, but it’s fairly accurate.  I truly believed that our issues were all mine.  That I was the one who was annoying and a poor communicator, and a long list of other things. 

I should have gotten mad in the first few weeks.  I didn’t.  I tried to please and smooth everything into niceness.  And that is what I continued to do for years.  It kind of reminds me of frosting a cake.  You can smooth over lots of imperfections with sweet, fluffy icing.  Make it all look smooth and dreamy.  That’s what I did.  That is the reason so many people were stunned when I left. 

But the person I was fooling the most was me.

Ok, more than enough deep thought for one night.  =]

Allison

My friend Allison left her heart in Uganda when she went over on a mission trip to visit, encourage, and lend aid to orphans.  She paid her own way to go, but feels called to return.  Check out her blog. 

www.goingwherehesendsme.bl​ogspot.com

She is currently selling beautiful handcrafted beads made by Uganden women, but I feel sure she would be happy of anything you might send her way, including prayers.  She is a woman worth investing in.

Stress

On tip toe feet
It creeps up slow

Mirroring movements
Staying in shadow

A dark stickiness
Clinging tar

Frozen breath
Makes me shiver

Chasing my thoughts
Making them race

My heart beats fast
Faster, faster

Running, running
To stay ahead.


I wrote this at school today.  And yes, it was a pretty stressful day.  So much to learn, so little time.  And I was feeling this at one point.  But don't worry.  I made lists, piles, and notebooks.  All the while looking over my shoulder calling, "run run as fast as you can, you can't catch me I'm the list making man...well, woman."  (As opposed to gingerbread man for those who did not catch the reference.)  =]

Sometimes, when you least expect it...

Panic

Heart skips

Breath catches

Brain freezes

Ears ring

Beat resumes

Heart pounds

Pulse races

Tumbling thoughts

Faster faster

Blood pumping

Panting panting

Can’t think

Self talk

Eyes closed

Breathing in

Breathing out

Slower slower

Fog clearing

Breathing breathing

Icy veins

Collateral Damage

Angry scar across the heart

Jagged, dimpled mass

An ugly reminder of bone deep pain

That no one but He can see.

Tears and hope slathered on

Reusable, endless salve

That slowly heals and softens scabs

So healing can begin.

Relationships scattered

Across lines in the sand

After comparing records of wrongs

Few neutrals remain intact.

Brave contact, courageous few

Gather wood and tools to build

A simple bridge of planks and rope

Across the landmined path.