Problem or Unpleasant Fact–How to Know

Because we have recovery in our home, we get to practice clarifying, for ourselves and each other, the difference between unpleasant facts and problems.  Before recovery, I believed if something was unpleasant, it was a problem and I must work on it–to change it and make it be different or at the very least punish and demonstrate my discontent.  So, that was fun, living that way.  Now, with a program to reparent me, I have learned that  actual problems have solutions.  Unpleasant facts do not—people, places, things, circumstances not to my own design and specifications  are to be handled with only acceptance because they are what they are.  Acceptance, for me, is the practice of allowing things to be, not a feeling that I like or condone it, but that I may be disturbed and still choose to act right, anyway.  I accept the reality of ITs existence and my powerlessness to make it be different from how it is.

Problems have solutions.  No solution–no problem.   Sometimes it is clear which actions are called for. But, until it is clear, I get to be still mentally (keep my mind and mitts off!) and once there is recognizable prudent action, toward solution or resolution, only then may I act.  When my heart is racing, that is not the time to do or decide anything.  That is the time to stop doing and saying all of the things I naturally say and do. Racing heart tells me that I am in fear and I am being reactive. Now I understand that I must do nothing out of fear, shame, or guilt…previously, my only motivators.  They are not good guides.

Lately, in our home, we have been discussing bullying…trying to clarify the distinction between things which we must accept and those for which more than acceptance is required of us.  See, for example jerks are people who just don’t give AF about anyone but themselves.  They may not necessarily be jerks AT us— and being a jerk is not a crime or a problem, just upsetting…so we must accept.  A bully, however, is concerned with what certain others think and feel.  Bullies thrive on doing things to make others feel impressed(awkwardly trying to elevate the already elevated) or diminishing those already diminished–a need to PUT PEOPLE IN THEIR PLACE.  They are intentional in what they say and do and have a desired affect in mind, where the jerk just does NOT effing care.  Bullies are a problem to be dealt with.  Currently, we are in the stages of defining what is and is not bullying and harassing.  We will neither do it nor stand for it.  The word bullying seems to have gotten pigeon-holed into easily observable behaviors, but it is much more subtle than physically or verbally going after someone directly.  There are many indirect ways to attack, dehumanize & do damage and then be all:  “what???, i didn’t touch him or I didn’t say anything to him”.  We are onto that!  We see YOU.  We object!

We had a family meeting this week, all of us, Dad, boys, and me.  That is a amaaaaazing.  We agreed that kindness and loyalty are our family rule.  Violation will have consequences.  We do not get to choose our feelings.  But we can always choose our behavior and our intentions.  Our intentions are to look out for each other, first.  Always.  Period.  The irony of this convo involving their father is not lost on any of us.  Let’s see if we can each practice what we preach.  The boys were first nervous about this family meeting and then clearly felt good about having mom and dad working as a team for them.  Just for today, we are working together.  Another miracle for which to be grateful.

And– this time of unity feels tricky, because I tend to fall into the thinking of –this is the new forever—either when he is being harmful to me or decent to me.  I honestly never know why things get better or worse, I just see that  they do and that it is not ever my job to tell him about himself or to try too hard to make things be different.  We are divorced—irreconcilable differences 100%.  Hard times happen…when I see my part, I make it right.  When it is not about me, I have to let it be…and that is difficult.  I am easily obsessed with things that frighten, confuse, or sadden me.

All this to say that–All unpleasant things fall into one of two categories, problem Or unpleasant fact.  I find this to be helpful and wanted to share.  Because also, I used to think when IT(life) is difficult, it is a result and proof of of being wrong or doing it wrong…but life is just fucken hard.  Right?  And it is easier to live life when we are not trying to change things we can not.  I think it is called minding our own business–not in the hostile and unwholesome directive to “mind your own beeswax” way-but simply tending(trying to manage and control) ONLY to what is ours, and leaving the rest be.

Right, Wrong, or Just Human

It is horrifying to look back over my life and to reflect on the countless times in which I felt either so indisputably right OR so completely wrong,bad,worthless; like–there was zero gray area between arrogance and humiliation.  Recovery offers me the gifts of humility, faith(the opposite of knowing), and feeds my hunger for constant spiritual striving and expansion.  Before recovery, I had only internalized the dynamic of zero-sum game;  one winner and one loser.  In this dynamic, there is no peace, just victory which usually felt shitty and defeat which consistently  felt shittier.

For me, being human and living this life on earth is all about the learning, expanding, and seeking—to make better mistakes today than yesterday.  I will always make mistakes, but that does not make me wrong or defective.  Amending harmful behavior is also something recovery has taught me.  I need not fight or defend, ever.  Where I have done harm (not the same as displeasing…I reserve the right to displease), I may amend.  If I have not done harm, nothing to defend or amend.

For so long, I had believed that being displeasing could only be a manifestation of defectiveness or attack.  That is seriously deranged.  So grateful for all of the unlearning.  It is nobody’s job to please another person, outside of employment and terms of service in transactional relations.

The past 10 years have offered the greatest teaching and learning experiences. Better late than never. Right? Before recovery and divorce(which began on the same day), I had neither observed nor understood: the practice of amending AND that—Refusing to EVER say something about someone that you wouldn’t say in front of them is the highest form of living. It is true cause for celebration (if I were a celebratey type) to be practicing higher living with space from those who practice otherwise. Not so much because I am better than them, just that I do not yet possess resilience to that sort of energy. I am still too deeply affected by incongruous words and actions of others, which I refer to as bullshit and needless complexity.  If there is one thing I am now certain of it is that Kindness is always right.  And cruelty is always wrong.  Harming others is never acceptable, according to the program in which I belong.

We Belong to Each Other

Why is the requirement to behave with loyalty towards his brother deeply offensive to my younger son? He enjoys his firm command over an arsenal of typically subtle tactics, to make big brother feel sad, confused, or embarrassed—  Little brother is furious with me for requiring loyalty or at least non-malevolence.   He does THIS only to his brother(and me).  And he uses semantics to argue his rightness….Like:  “Oh well, you didn’t say I couldn’t do it in this game or in this place or with these people, specifically…I thought you just meant dodgeball.”  Yeh, ok, be a loyal brother in dodgeball but behaving like a diminishing little shit, anywhere else is fine.   So, like a true raging psycho, I created and shared a list of every person place or thing on earth, in which loyalty is expected and then I even offered condescending examples of “how it works”.  Super spiritual behavior.

I see the pain he inflicts on his brother, and feel the gravity of the gift of getting to hear directly and promptly from big brother, what IT does to him–  affording me the opportunity hold space, empathize, listen, and then impose my overly-emotional attempts to address the behavior without dividing my sons further from each other.  This seems more than just classic sibling rivalry and I am deeply concerned for each of them.  I want them to belong to each other.  Two years ago, they did.  100% What happened?  What flipped the switch?   Oh, wait.  I think I might know.  We do learn what we live.

Right now, my greatest concern is how poorly I am handling the situation.  It is too familiar, too close to home.  Terrifying to imagine them carrying the legacy  of their father and me– each having a sibling with whom we do not speak.

But Why Though

6:45 a.m.-  It doesn’t even mater why…

I woke to crushing anxiety this morning, as I do most, overwhelming, free-floating anxiety tied to nothing in particular and everything all at once.  Nauseous and on the verge of tears, before getting out of bed- I feel immense guilt for how my anxiety robs my sons and Sweet Greg of a more present and emotionally generous me. Weary from white knuckling through every minute, trying to keep from snapping or crying.

I recognize that I have always been this way and how much it cost me, to not have been born and wake daily, all easy breezy and anew like a Golden Retriever ready to seize the day, catch the ball, run and enjoy.  I too, would have preferred that.  But all these little things kept happening in life which filled little me with big shame and fear of unworthiness–utter inability to experience a sustained sense of well-being and peace.  There was no recognizable person, seeking to  understand why I suffered, many insisting that I stop– or learn to manage my dis-EASE in less vexing ways.  Little things consistently said and done OR not said and done wracked me with great worry and shame-which in turn, caused trouble.  Maybe another day, I will share some of the things that I wished I could have shared and felt heard and still loved by just one person.

All of the little things,when un-shared and not honored, turn to soul killing, life robbing, hole in our hearts/ myths–that make us need to hide and numb ourselves.

Honestly, all of the things are fine in the big picture. I am hardwired for panic, which causes me to miss out on so much and holds my children hostage to a mother who is perpetually edgy and brittle and often reacting to 50years worth of pain rather than only what is happening in the moment.  Oh for fuck’s sake, the despair over being sad is too much.  Secondary feelings kick my ass every single time, if I allow them.

I will be gentle with myself today.  Some days are less difficult than others.

Maybe tomorrow will be more thrivey than survivey.

6:45 p.m. – I did manage to focus on only my work today after writing,eating, exercising (none of which I do with regularity).  My anxiety definitely is linked to low blood sugar and metabolic issues– mornings and late afternoons are the same for me.  My blood sugar drops and I rapidly unravel.

My younger son has become aggressive since the bully incident(possibly, but not necessarily related) and keeps his older brother in his crosshairs 24/7.   I have insisted that they(he) demonstrate brotherly loyalty by not taking each other out of team games until it is necessary.  JUST go for anyone else first, before going after and taking your own brother down. But nope.  It happened again at camp today.  And, I reacted poorly.  My tone and face have expressed things that cannot be taken back.  Possibly, punctuated with a swear word.

The effect of little brother’s  persisting efforts to humiliate and alienate big brother may be almost as damaging, as my reaction to the familiar dynamic.   Oh my god, history repeating itself.   The cycle!!!  Please make it stop.  Praying for willingness to handle myself differently. Haaaaalp

You Do Not Have to Agree with Me to Love Me

I am feeling especially aware and grateful for my own acceptance of my deep core truth that I often need to do nothing, absolutely nothing.  Not listening, talking, momming, cleaning, working for money, reading, trolling the internet or  doing yard/house work.  Just BEING.  It is not lazy, it may be depression at times and that is ok and it may be recovery at other times.  Either way, it is what I need.  Eff anybody who must object or judge.  Thank gawd for the people in my life who cannot relate, AND still totally respect and appreciate me, as I am, for who I am.  Not tolerance but love.  Love is a verb.

Greg and I differ politically, which is tricky during this brutally polarizing time.  I want to be able to share with him the intensity of my feelings and reactions to what is being done to people in the name of god, law, patriotism, racism, whatever.  I cannot.  He knows how I feel and I know how he feels. How we feel for each other is more important than these things.  We love each other and have drastically opposing views about how people and polices should be.  It is amazing to me that THIS can be true and real in MY life.

I was not raised to believe in and count on this sort of love.  We don’t have to agree, pretend, fight, or resent.  Those are not the only options.  Miracles of recovery continue.  ♥ So grateful to experience and to model this for my children.  Love and kindness are not hinged to anything other than our choice to behave in these ways.  We are human and, of course, and do suck some of the time…and that is ok also.  Because we are learning to own and amend our unfortunate behaviors when they get the best of us.  Promptly and sincerely.

You Got What You Deserved

I heard it expressed frequently by my family of origin– which led to my own false belief that we may each enforce our truths and wills on those who disturb us.  Thank good gawd almighty that I was able to unlearn this in time to raise children- and to break the cycle of unwholesome thinking and behavior.  Unless it is being said to/of someone for achievement recognition, a promotion, or a high score well earned, it is bullshit.  Nobody deserves harm.  NOBODY.

Cruelty is not a natural consequence nor is it corrective or constructive.  When a person is cruel, it is because they are broken, not because something or someone has earned it.  Cruelty is a choice.

Another person’s vulnerability, fragility, ignorance, even meanness is not an invitation or free pass to do them harm.  There is a difference between being corrective and being hateful.  Defense from legitimate danger  differs vastly from attacking.  Malevolence is the work of the mentally unwell.  There is help for that.  Good news, vigilantes:  It is never too late to seek help and to change.

I had to unlearn the sick thinking so I could practice behaving like the person I am meant to be.  This requires rigorous resisting of my natural urges and reactions to stress and threat.  Much of the wreckage of my life stems from the myth that cruelty and abuse are well earned and justifiable reactions, rightfully directed at those “askin for it”.  Before understanding the practices of  kindness and compassion, my only known tools were shaming, blaming, judging, retaliating.  If you got in the way of the way of how I believed things should be, you would fucken pay.  Shaking my head at having thought this way well into my 30s.  When we know better we do better. Kindness, previously, was a reward for having pleased me or met my needs.  Ach!  We do learn what we live.

All beings deserve comfort and kindness.  Anyone believing otherwise is scary AF.  TRUTH:  Those requiring less of us are easier to love in that conditional ego-centric sort of way.  Many years ago, as a rookie teacher, still deep in a state of un-knowing,  I (possibly in some ways) preferred students arriving to class on time, smelling Downy fresh, well behaved, able to listen and learn (do as I say).  They would be fine no matter what kind of person or teacher I was.  They made my job easy while making me look good, right?  Ugh.  With experience, came my recognition of the strugglers as my people, and my love for them drove me to try harder to become what they needed and deserved.  I was not always fair and kind to them(or anyone) because I had not yet been introduced to principles illuminating what is and is not ok to say and to do.  I believed that you get what you deserve and that I was fit to decide and impose that.  If you challenge me too much and I have the authority and the means, I will diminish you.  I wish I could reach out to my students from my first days of teaching so I could say to them, “I did not know how to do better, but you ALL always always deserved better.  Please forgive me for anything I said and did that indicated otherwise.  It was only ever my defectiveness that made me act badly.”

Short skirts •crossing the border •being sexually confused or different •smelling bad • having a different or no religious/political affiliation • showing sensitivity • objecting to a thing that feels wrong • standing up for something that feels right:   People feeling called to diminish or attack for things like this, probably won’t get what they deserve.  And yet, it remains true, that their diminishing behavior speaks ONLY to their brokenness and darkness, not to the worthiness of their targets.  Vilifying others is their choice, not a natural consequence.

As Harold Kushner says, not all punished people are bad, not all bad people are punished.  Bad things happen to good people and good things happen for bad people.  Some shit just happens.  Proof of God is in the showing up of the helpers.  I am so grateful to finally know how to be in this world in a kinder, gentler way.  I am a work in progress.

Six Things

1. Frankly, little mattered to me before motherhood.
2. Life has has never, NOT felt incredibly difficult and unnatural for me.  Having sensory issues is difficult. Even the smell and feel of foods I enjoy, can nauseate me.  An avocado smear on a plate or worse, on my hand, gags me…and I really like avocados, provided I do not have to touch them outside of my mouth.  I am not wired and regulated like a typical person.  I can enjoy the taste of a food and be unnerved by the sight, smell, and feel of it.  AND how I feel about a food is changing constantly, depending on how much rest, space, and exercise I get.  I cannot bear the sensation of most anything on my hands.  The feel and smell of the kitchen sponge or a wet dish towel stress me.  I do not mean I dislike them because washing dishes is not fun, but my adrenaline surges when I handle things with my hands that feel bad to me or that have a smell that I dislike.   The sensations stay with me even after the experience is over.  I experience all things at a cellular level.   Music with saxophone or a classical vibe make my heart race and adrenaline pump, fight or flight in full swing and don’t even get me started on opera.  Repetitive or erratic sounds are also deeply troubling to me and I do not possess that dimmer switch in my brain, which would regulate how affected I am—-unable to tune anything out.  I am sooooo overly tuned in, and being in the world with people and all of the stimulus can be too much.   And I require time which is free from all stimulus to recover.   Sleeping with a 17 pound weighted blanket in addition to my covers is immense comfort and relief, even when it is hot.  The pressure and weight regulate and calm me.  My bed is my favorite most safest place.   I am sensory defensive.  It is not a choice.  I will leave the matter of my emotional intensity for another day, but let’s just say that is a whole other balla wax and it is a tough combination…but guess what….none of this makes me an asshole or a defect.  I struggle to remain calm near given sources of sensory and emotional intensity. So, now I avoid them.   Learning to parent a child with sensory integration issues, diagnosed at 18 months, along with my program of recovery taught me not only the value of, but the wisdom for how to seek serenity and to teach my son to do so without apology or shame.  Less sensitive and more controlling people might call all of this pickiness or-just being a pain in the ass.  To them, we offer space. We wear soft clothes with no tags, enjoy sitting beneath weighted blankets with no overhead lighting, minimal sounds, and smells.  Limiting ourselves to small groups of trusted others is also a choice we practice making.
3. We have two sweet rescue dogs, each of whom teach us daily about unconditional love, loyalty, and patience.  It is a little hostagey at times and it is not completely clear who the hostages are in our home, us or the dogs,when I say us, I mostly mean me.
4. One of the things that brings me joy, a sense of belonging and infinite connection is- inside jokes and situational nicknames that are wholesome and infinitely funny, like they will not ever get old.  This insideyness did not exist for me with my family of origin or in my failed marriage, I was never inside.  What I see now, is that if I am not free to cry and find comfort with you, I will never relax or relate enough to laugh deeply with you.  Laughter is the balm!  Good wholesome, silly and often sophisticated jokes tend to evolve, usually in moments in which somebody is expressing an objection.  In chosen relationships, we all get to object and say no without it being a secret or a fight.  I believe— this is what is referred to as genuine intimacy.  Boundaries and laughter…YES!!
5. I stopped drinking when I met my husband, because I wanted to love him.  I wanted us to love each other, but it was hopeless and loveless, and when I drink I am more likely to speak truths that are otherwise too hard to say.  I hated the way I felt with him, but it was familiar, the same feeling/love I experienced in my family.  It was not the right kind of love for me.  Maybe it wasn’t loveless, just not a love I wanted to keep trying to master or survive.
6. I just returned from a work trip in which I fucked up and said something insensitive.  I offended someone, innocent, but not harmless.  I owned it and apologized but still feel sick from it and hope to not lose another night of sleep to it.   I am still learning about how to be in the world.  I am a work in progress.