Even The Broken Clock is Right Twice a Day

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Progress not perfection.  Check it out!  So, I purchased this can of shaving cream on clearance for $0.48 at shave-cream-trashFood Lion.  I bought 5 of them, actually.  The one shown in the trash bin was number 4 in my sequence of use.  After using only  25% of the product, it stopped putting out(for no good reason…oh wait, is it broken?)  I removed the top, and got a teeny tiny bit out. Feeling the weight of the remaining shaving cream–knowing it was in there, dammit, I wanted it, almost to the point of obsession.   To avoid being late for appointments, I brought can #5 into play which functions just fine. But– when I am showering without time limitation, I sit on that shower bench and work haaard, holding the can every which way, blasting it with hot water, using a safety pin to clear the valve, turning the dispenser top.  Total bullshit insanity.  But wait– 4 out of 27 times I have managed to extract just enough to shave an armpit, re-enforcing for me that maaaaybe, if I try hard enough, I can get just a little bit of what I need.  I know it is there.  Aaah, the broken effing clock strikes again.

Today was a turning point. Whatever shaving cream I squeeze from the can is not worth the effort.  It s broken, not a reflection of my brokenness.  There are other cans—that work!!  Honestly, that shitty purple can mocked me from the shower ledge.  I felt like a loser for– a) buying it b) not being able to make it work c) trying too hard d) giving up. This is a fantastic metaphor for my entanglement with my MCRs.  It is not necessary or healthy to try so hard to get what I need.  Letting go is not losing, it is making way for what works.  Let go or be dragged, right?  Oh….The broken clock in its many forms!

Tryyyyying too hard, that is a sign that I am forcing or denying, relying on willful determination. My need to tryyyyyy in this way can be traced back to my fears of scarcity and unworthiness.  But those, those are the lies and myths.  There is plenty of what is needed and I am totally worthy.  I am not great at everything,clearly, but I am nearly perfect at trying every day to do better than I did the day before.  Making better mistakes today than yesterday is for BadAsses.  Forcing and fearing is for bad asses. (more…)

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What We Focus on Grows

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Today, I read.I  interview.  I explore career paths and interests. I am discovering that my strengths while not remarkable, are in writing, operational procedures, logistics, and configuration management.  I find deep and lasting satisfaction and effectiveness when I am engaged in these ways. I am energized.

I MUST resume a more wholesome direction- away from efforts and obsession to make things of 50 years be different.  Beneath my despair and grief of the family I never had, there is the energy of who I really am, right there with my unique gifts, to enjoy, expand, and to share.  I will be intentional today.  What I focus on grows. (more…)

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No is a complete sentence.

Hi Friends,

This eCard is fantastic.  My discovery of  a calm “no”, for my ex and family of origin is new behavior- and can be counted on either to be ignored or to incite war.  Dismissal and reprisal are reminders that it is best for me to limit proximity to anyone feeling inclined to diminish or dominate in these ways.

From me, a definitive NO without anger, profanity, fear, or volume is progress.   Though apparently, it is confusing for those insistent on always being right  — accustomed to provoking me until I lose it and become  hysterical,  substantiatng my need for unkindness or mental help.  No. Nope.  Ah,Ah. Ok, sorry that won’t work out but let’s work together for a better arrangement.  It is acceptable for people to say No as needed.  Honoring boundaries is for BadAsses.  It is too much for others.

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Love is kind-right?

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Not until my older son was diagnosed at 18 months with sensory integration disorder(SPD), did I learn why I had been uncomfortable, tense, overly-stressed my entire life, particularly for family occasions where food smells and volume alone, felt cruel.  The word overwhelming does not begin to describe those experiences.  I came to believe I was the “pain in the ass” I was reported to be, unworthy of comfort and connection.  I learned to hate who I was-at a cellular level, my existence was all wrong.  I was angry and as my family likes to remind me, very difficult.  Who wouldn’t have been difficult in the circumstances?  Totally owning that!!!

Not knowing how to seek shelter from sensory stimulus had a devastating impact;  In my family, those  unwilling unable to mask signs of stress and discomfort are not be tolerated or indulged.  I believe much of the wreckage of my life has its origins here, leading my fruitless pursuit for connection with emotionally remote others. (more…)

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Inside Jokes and Situational Nicknames

Needy as shit this week, I have been relentless- calling Sweet Greg or peppering him with texts with a word or reference to something hysterically funny, to only the two of…

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Get Back Up! (again)

This position is uncomfortable and I prefer the other view. Deep Breath. I will get myself up- do the next right thing.  Dogs to groomer, serve my boss,  be present for the joy of preparing for my older son’s birthday party.  It would be much easier to lay here indulging fantasy and regret. If I spend one minute thinking of those who might enjoy smugly eluding to their sympathy for me with each other, that is a minute wasted.  Today, I am free to focus on love and kindness.  I am free to be of service to someone in need.  I am free to feel and share and heal my pain.  I am free to be angry and to work through it, without denying it or trying to offload it onto anyone.  I am free to resume this position at any time. Oh, goody. (more…)

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Holiday Performances-Broken Enough to Feel, Foolish Enough to Share

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Feeling concerned for the fallout of  saying NO to the gracious awkward invitation to sit at the table with people who cast me out harshly and publicly and then demand request my appearance, I began researching how to proceed—even with my unfortunate and evil ways, of course.  See, I am called to continually get over hurtful and damaging things directed at me.  To act as if…

My non-coercibility has earned me the title of withholding, deserving, imagining, or causing the unkindness- which persists in this way, each time I show up for more.  My recovery teaches me that I no longer have to volunteer for this.  I no longer participate in my own abuse.

The abusive words and behaviors are denied entirely, labelled as my wrong perceptions, or defended as facts–sworn and believed to come from a place of honor and rightness– not hurt or anger. Hurt and anger are for losers like me.   Broken enough to feel and foolish enough to share.   Saddened I am, by the reminder that healing and hope for myself exist only in the absence of these dynamics.  I suppose the relief  is in knowing that this sickness is not uncommon and I am not alone.   Bad news, I cant cure or change it, I can avoid it.  Dear Family, I am unable to attend the 2016 Christmas Performance dinner.  Please accept this  as my rsvp.

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