We Learn What We Live

I don’t recall much of life before children, only that I was miserable and treated myself poorly because that is all I knew …that I was undeserving and unworthy of comfort, connection, peace, joy.  Those things remained foreign, inaccessible–reserved for the worthy. (more…)

Low Blood Sugar and Anxiety

In the past year, I have noted consistently how my low blood sugar either triggers or mimics anxiety for me.  I feel ill much of the time, the way I did for all nine months of my pregnancies, and most of my childhood.  Most mornings begin with me feeling simultaneously revolted by the idea of eating and desperate for calories.  It is impossibly stressful–food and drink gagging and disabling me-the lacking nourishment and the blood sugar crushing me.  I recall feeling this way as a child, maybe this is what helped me to get labelled impossible pain in the ass.  I cannot help but contemplate how much I stressed my mother by not only this combination of dueling needs but also by my sensory driven preferences of the 7 non-overstimulating foods which I found to be manageable.  Also, my mother has difficulty accepting anything which she personally cannot relate to.  She managed rheumatic fever, polio, scoliosis, cancer with more resilience than I can muster on a regular morning after a decent night’s rest.

My struggles were neither accepted as unpleasant facts nor treated with a solution driven attitude.  Seems as if everyone may have naturally agreed upon a  “Fuck her” mentality.  I was just a young girl and as I grew older, so did my discomfort and my reaction to years of dismissed,judged,unmet needs, manifesting in ways less easy to ignore & dismiss, and twice as easy to judge.  Judgment and banishing never really helped with anything but a strengthened bond by those disturbed by me.

I am grateful to abandon the tradition of banishment and shunning to discipline and teach my children that they must hustle for acceptance and weep when they have failed to gain it.  My natural inability to effectively process sugar (and what felt to me like abuse) made me different.  My anxiety made me different.  My sensitivities made me different.  My brown skin, weird nose and name and non-Christian family made me different.  My height and weight made me different.  My lame and ill -fitting clothes and shoes made me different.

I was reminded both in and out of my home that I was not the same and did not belong.  I wanted sameness and belonging badly and confused them for being the same.  Recovery teaches me that genuine belonging has nothing to do with being the same.  My reaction to being cast an outsider was unfortunate.  I cannot help but wonder if I would have found a talent or a passion/hobby with which to busy myself, things might have turned out better.  My obsession with trying to understand my pain and to impersonate a worthy unpained person robbed me of ever genuinely knowing who I actually was(am).  Was there ever even was a passion or hobby inside of me?  I never fantasized or longed for much of anything other than “not this” and “make it stop RFN” PLEASE

Today, I practice managing my blood sugar and my anxiety through eating smarter and sticking close to those who practice love, the promise, no less so when I am difficult/struggling.  Changing the things I can one day at a time.  Accepting and detaching, when possible from those I cannot.  All of those things that made me different were not crimes or defects.  Struggling is not a defect.  But non-compassion is 100% defective.  I am learning to practice compassion, one day at a time..and have not yet found a way to feel compassion for anyone still convinced that diminishing me, is a thing to be accepted.  

Be the Nice Kid

How I wished I would have been a nice kid.  Kindness and humility were neither natural nor modeled for me.  I was scared shitless, constantly–with no healthy coping skills.  I was terrified, literally out of my mind from a lack of knowing how to get along in the family and world.  The lessons I took from my formative years about connection and belonging are tragic, at best.  They taught me to be fearful as much of myself, as of others, all others, particularly those related to me, and whom I counted on.  I devolved into one very sad, angry, punitive, controlling, scarY AF individual.  It was not until becoming a mother, turning 40, filing for divorce, entering a program, that I began learning to examine and recover from my experience in my family of origin.

I cringe as I look back and reflect on how poorly I managed, 100% failure to cope and to thrive.  Every single person and situation caused me anxiety(a way of being which seemed to enflame the family).  I never, ever, felt safe or relaxed.  Since entering into a program of recovery, dignity, self-esteem, courage, and sometimes serenity and faith replace fear, humiliation, guilt.  Remaining in a state of that kind of fearfulness, drove behaviors that caused me difficulty and shame.  How did  I manage to never learn how to cope with difficult experiences and feelings—aka—all of my experiences and feelings?  What I adopted as truth about myself and others was distorted beyond words.  And now– the unlearning.

Since moving cross country, 3 years ago, a return to those who count on me to be too afraid and ashamed to live and express my personal truth and values, I have elected to minimize contact with most ALL others, while I lick my wounds, new and old.  I thought they would be pounding me on the back for no longer reacting the way I always had.  But it became clear, quickly, that my easily judgeable  raging and decomposing, were preferred to the calmer, direct inquiries and statement of clear boundaries.  I did amaze myself that an onslaught of abusive accusations, name calling, and shunning intended to reduce me, did not call me to tell them about themselves or to beg for better treatment.  They presented two options, denial of/submission to unkindness or cold war.  I chose a third way- offering repeatedly(too many times) to explore and mend the fractures and my willingness to wait in safety for their readiness and willingness.  The reactions to those initiatives were jarring, the fact that much of it is in writing has been illuminating.  Since my decomposition seems rooted in a myth that I caused or imagined unkindness and non-love, paving the way for my own abusive behaviors.  My old thinking:  It is acceptable diminish those that displease you and then blame and shame them for it.  If you make them feel small enough, they may keep trying to please you and earn your good graces…not kindness, but an occasional respite from the non-kindness.

I cannot unlearn THIS fast enough.  What I want for my children, more than anything is for them to assume wholesomeness, of themselves and others.  To be able to experience non-goodness without internalizing it, judging it, or adopting it as a way to control and manage.  For my sons to believe in their own virtue, no matter what others say, do, and feel—how can I teach them this before I, myself, fully know it?  Thank god for the model of Sweet Greg, in our lives who unceasingly and naturally practices kindness, always.  He is totally the nice kid.  So wholesome.

For the past few years, I have relied heavily on Momastery to help me parent my children in the ways of kindness and courage, because these ways of being are still too new for me to model with any sort of consistency.  Below is a letter I will read to my sons, before sending them to sleep away camp, next week.  Connection and inclusion are values I hope they will choose to exercise rather than be in charge of.  Praying:  Please be connectors and includers… please.

Hey Baby.

Tomorrow is a big day. Third Grade – wow.

Chase – When I was in third grade, there was a little boy in my class named Adam.

Adam looked a little different and he wore funny clothes and sometimes he even smelled a little bit. Adam didn’t smile. He hung his head low and he never looked at anyone at all. Adam never did his homework. I don’t think his parents reminded him like yours do. The other kids teased Adam a lot. Whenever they did, his head hung lower and lower and lower. I never teased him, but I never told the other kids to stop, either.

And I never talked to Adam, not once. I never invited him to sit next to me at lunch, or to play with me at recess. Instead, he sat and played by himself. He must have been very lonely.

I still think about Adam every day. I wonder if Adam remembers me? Probably not. I bet if I’d asked him to play, just once, he’d still remember me.

I think that God puts people in our lives as gifts to us. The children in your class this year, they are some of God’s gifts to you.

So please treat each one like a gift from God. Every single one.

Baby, if you see a child being left out, or hurt, or teased, a little part of your heart will hurt a little. Your daddy and I want you to trust that heart- ache. Your whole life, we want you to notice and trust your heart-ache. That heart ache is called compassion, and it is God’s signal to you to do something. It is God saying, Chase! Wake up! One of my babies is hurting! Do something to help! Whenever you feel compassion – be thrilled! It means God is speaking to you, and that is magic. It means He trusts you and needs you.

Sometimes the magic of compassion will make you step into the middle of a bad situation right away.

Compassion might lead you to tell a teaser to stop it and then ask the teased kid to play. You might invite a left-out kid to sit next to you at lunch. You might choose a kid for your team first who usually gets chosen last. These things will be hard to do, but you can do hard things.

Sometimes you will feel compassion but you won’t step in right away. That’s okay, too. You might choose instead to tell your teacher and then tell us. We are on your team – we are on your whole class’ team. Asking for help for someone who is hurting is not tattling, it is doing the right thing. If someone in your class needs help, please tell me, baby. We will make a plan to help together.

When God speaks to you by making your heart hurt for another, by giving you compassion, just do something. Please do not ignore God whispering to you. I so wish I had not ignored God when He spoke to me about Adam. I remember Him trying, I remember feeling compassion, but I chose fear over compassion. I wish I hadn’t. Adam could have used a friend and I could have, too.

Chase – We do not care if you are the smartest or fastest or coolest or funniest. There will be lots of contests at school, and we don’t care if you win a single one of them. We don’t care if you get straight As. We don’t care if the girls think you’re cute or whether you’re picked first or last for kickball at recess. We don’t care if you are your teacher’s favorite or not. We don’t care if you have the best clothes or most Pokemon cards or coolest gadgets. We just don’t care.

We don’t send you to school to become the best at anything at all. We already love you as much as we possibly could. You do not have to earn our love or pride and you can’t lose it. That’s done.

We send you to school to practice being brave and kind.

Kind people are brave people. Because brave is not a feeling that you should wait for. It is a decision. It is a decision that compassion is more important than fear, than fitting in, than following the crowd.

Trust me, baby, it is. It is more important.

Don’t try to be the best this year, honey.

Just be grateful and kind and brave. That’s all you ever need to be.

Take care of those classmates of yours, and your teacher, too. You Belong to Each Other. You are one lucky boy . . . with all of these new gifts to unwrap this year.

I love you so much that my heart might explode.

Enjoy and cherish your gifts.

And thank you for being my favorite gift of all time.

Love,
Mama

 ***Each year people ask my permission to substitute their child’s name for Chase’s and read this letter together the night before school begins. YES. Others ask if they might change the word God to their family’s name for love and read it that way. OF COURSE. This letter belongs to all of us. I’d be honored if you took it and made it work for your family. Heck, tell ’em you wrote it. I’m always picking up pre-made grocery buffet food, throwing it into a casserole dish, placing it triumphantly on the table and then stepping back and smiling as humbly as possible in the wake of such triumph. Same/Same. Love, G

 

Indirect Communication

I don’t really get it.  How is it ever better for relationships and trust, to rely on indirect communication for genuine understanding of needs, wants, desires, feelings?  I seriously hate that shit… It is only acceptable to me, when done with someone whom I trust and we get to call it out and laugh about it-TOGETHER.  That is the whole point of relationships, right–the together part?  Connection?

When something feels unpleasant, unfair, or upsetting, what is wrong with: “Hey, I don’t like that or that makes me uncomfortable”?  Is it too vulnerable, maybe presenting the other person a chance to honestly show you what matters more, your comfort or them getting to do the thing they are doing?  Or is it some statement of imperfection or defectiveness to have a need or to feel uncomfortable?  And so what if it is?  I may never get this.

Here are some fun examples of playfully indirect communication with Greg, as we mutually value and rely on direct communication.  With sensory issues through the roof, I experience the sound quality of iPhone speaker, even on low volume, to be stressful.  So, when he elects to listen to a video or podcast using speaker,  I laugh and say “Hey, want to borrow my earbuds?”  He laughs back and says “Nah, I’m good”.  Then he grabs his earbuds and we laugh and smooch.  Intentionally indirect communication would be me throwing a face, sighing deeply, expecting him to KNOW and revere my discomfort, or to ask me what is wrong.  So I could be all: “nothing”, resenting him for not being a mind reader who knows and loves me as completely as I deserve…. and then becoming cold and withdrawn for an incalculable amount of time, while escalating tension by denying any issue at all. (more…)

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.