Yearly Archives: 2017

The Broken Clock

For 4 brutal decades, I was distraught over the confusing swings of mood(with me indicated as THE cause) by my mother, sister, and later my husband/now ex-husband.  At times there would be eye contact, engaging conversation, and something resembling connection– then long periods of averted eyes and zero acknowledgment when addressed, or a surprising character assassination in response to something from months or even years earlier.  Then, compliments, gifts, or initiatives to engage, close on the heels of emotional vacancy or barely contained rage- impossible to discern which.  It is too much.
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Me Too, Tell Me More

My recent exchange with my mother awakened in me the  exact “nature” of my lifelong experience, as her dependent and child.  If I said I was cold, rather than a sweater, snuggle, or blanket, I was offered a reading of the thermostat as proof that I could not feel that way (if I were normal, worthy, and honest).  When I reported  hunger or need a restroom, similarly, I was reminded of having recently eaten or relieved myself, OR that I was just too fucken much.  Support was available only when she shared the sentiment.  When my experience differed, I was reported to be equal parts incorrect and troublesome. I literally learned to doubt myself at a cellular level.  I was wrong about things, over which technically, I would be the ultimate authority:  hunger, exhaustion, fear, sadness, cold, a full bladder.  Right? (more…)

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Project Miracle

I read, re-read, and listen to all words written or spoken by Anne Lamott.  Nearly two years ago, when I first moved here, I read about a project she did with a friend,  Project Miracle.   I believe it was from Bird by Bird.   For Project Miracle, you commit with a Trusted and Willing Other, each day, before anything else, to email a list of things for which you feel grateful, even the shitty things.  That turned about to be as challenging as it was fun, the shitty things for which to be grateful.  The deal is- you  each exchange lists but….no feedback allowed.  This project may be the only ritualized part of my life to which I have fully committed, since our  dislocation relocation.  As I look back over my sent emails, I see how the act of  ritualistically acknowledging and sharing my first thoughts has helped me to practice acceptance for unpleasant facts. The no feedback or responses policy allows me to express things like:  I am grateful that my mother is not more unkind to me than she is.   Because I don’t want a cheerleader suggestion to see it differently.  That is my space for acknowledging painful truth, on my way to acceptance.   Anyway, below are some items from recent emails:   (more…)

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Just Be Happy-Goddammit

My truth is that I mostly do not have a choice about my first thought, but I do have the choice to indulge it or to redirect my thoughts AWAY from obsession or reactive behavior. I learned this practice late in life. Being commanded to lighten up and get over it drove me more deeply into darkness and shame over my complete lack of knowing how.   It was essential that I do so, if I wanted to belong. I see now, that it could not be modeled. You can’t teach someone how to be an entirely different person from whom they are. The message was “Be Different from how you are, dammit”.  To this day, I cannot.  And the miracle is- I do not apologize or even feign an intent to be other than how I am.  I strive to be spiritually stronger, and to engage a closer connection to God.  That will allow me to mature into the person I am meant to be.  Conforming to the will of another human won’t.  I don’t know what makes me a sensitive and expressive empath, picking up on energies around me, while others remain deeply unaffected.  I did not choose it and I cannot un-choose it or judge it.  When having your feelings and truths debated and punished is a pattern, it is time to remove yourself.  Patterns don’t lie. (more…)

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