Relief is a great feeling. It’s the emotional and physical reward we receive from our bodies upon alleviation of pain, pressure and struggle. A time to bask in the lack of the negative. ~Vera Nazarian
After yet another long drive, I returned home. To those who answered their phone to keep me entertained, thank you. To those who prepared tacos, an even greater thank you!!
I will be blogging less over the next few weeks--not because I don't want to, but because I don't need to and I will be channeling my energies elsewhere. Single parenthood, for example, and journaling on my own and running.
I can say that my drive back last night was not filled with tears--but with relief. We've arrived where we need to be for this part of the journey. And we will continue our journey together--despite separate locations--and will reconvene when the time is right.
Stay in touch,
La
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Baltimore-day 2
It is through doing that an individual comes to know the potential and limitations of self and the environment and achieves a sense of competent and intrinsic worth. ~Gail Fidler
After a 36 day wait, an 8.5 hour drive and about a million tears, prayers and hopes--we finally have arrived. It is such a bittersweet state to be in: Relief for the help that has finally arrived. Sadness for the temporary separation. Hurt about the past. Hope for the future.
So many friends have been so wonderful to me. Those of you who know the meaning of "Outfly." Those who have taken my 2 AM sobbing calls and have lent out your shoulders, ears, sofas, and lunch money. Those of you who have hiked to the top of a mountain and a waterfall in a day. Those who have no idea what I'm talking about and still keep us in your thoughts and prayers. Those who have helped with baby-sitting duties--for the young or the old. Those who have sat with me on the sofa as I cry in desperation. Those of you who have helped out covering at work and haven't fired me for my absences. Those who are a part of the "Drizzo Tizzo" (Dream Team, for those of you who don't speak ghetto). Those who have sent cards, emails, letters, texts, phone calls, and words of wisdom.
I don't know how long we will be this many miles apart. But I promise that no matter how many miles between us, our hearts are forever bonded. And since I'm holding the children hostage, she has to come home, right? :)
Tonight: A long drive back to a home where I will feel disconnected--as if a part of me is missing--because it is missing--but I will put faith in the fact that things are working in the direction they need to and that healing can take place--for us all--and we can not only be the Drizzo Tizzo, but also we can be a family again.
I miss you, my Love. Take your time--and see you soon.
XO, La
After a 36 day wait, an 8.5 hour drive and about a million tears, prayers and hopes--we finally have arrived. It is such a bittersweet state to be in: Relief for the help that has finally arrived. Sadness for the temporary separation. Hurt about the past. Hope for the future.
So many friends have been so wonderful to me. Those of you who know the meaning of "Outfly." Those who have taken my 2 AM sobbing calls and have lent out your shoulders, ears, sofas, and lunch money. Those of you who have hiked to the top of a mountain and a waterfall in a day. Those who have no idea what I'm talking about and still keep us in your thoughts and prayers. Those who have helped with baby-sitting duties--for the young or the old. Those who have sat with me on the sofa as I cry in desperation. Those of you who have helped out covering at work and haven't fired me for my absences. Those who are a part of the "Drizzo Tizzo" (Dream Team, for those of you who don't speak ghetto). Those who have sent cards, emails, letters, texts, phone calls, and words of wisdom.
I don't know how long we will be this many miles apart. But I promise that no matter how many miles between us, our hearts are forever bonded. And since I'm holding the children hostage, she has to come home, right? :)
Tonight: A long drive back to a home where I will feel disconnected--as if a part of me is missing--because it is missing--but I will put faith in the fact that things are working in the direction they need to and that healing can take place--for us all--and we can not only be the Drizzo Tizzo, but also we can be a family again.
I miss you, my Love. Take your time--and see you soon.
XO, La
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Writing is
the best way to talk without being interrupted. ~Jules
Renard
I want to take this opportunity to officially apologize to every single one of my friends who has taken the time in recent weeks to check in with me and while I know every single one of you have a life and your own struggles, I've not asked how they are and not offered a hand to help. I feel incredibly selfish lately because I have not done so. And every single time that someone checks in, I consciously don't make the effort to ask how their circumstances are. I apologize. It is not that I don't care how you are each doing. It is that I don't have the energy to have that conversation and don't have the energy to support you in what you need right now.
Today, I had a conversation that I finally needed to have. Don't get me wrong--every single one of you has been wonderful, as I know I have mentioned before. But today, I got to have a conversation that was just mine. One where I didn't feel guilty not asking "how are you doing?" A $25 co-pay allowed me the opportunity to speak without being interrupted, without feeling guilty, and without wondering if I was saying too much.
There is a show on Netflix that I highly encourage others to check out. It is called "United States of Tara." The basic premise is that Tara has dissociative identity disorder (formerly known as multiple personality disorder). She's married and has 2 kids and the show highlights life as Tara and life with Tara. In the final episode of Season 3, her husband, Max, is shown several times doing "double takes." The scene is done twice. The first take is how he wants to respond (less than appropriately), and the second is how he does respond (appropriately, as expected). However, he's eventually has too much and loses it. Check out his losing it here on a low quality video(for those who are anti-the F-word, I apologize in advance....):
I feel like this a lot lately. I feel like if there were really a camera following me around, I would like to do Take 1--I want to do and say that it is that is within me. And then Take 2--what I really need to do or say. I told that to my therapist today. She said that it is understandable as I certainly have a lot going on and a lot of people depending me. I hope I don't have a scene like this where Max loses it. But if I do, I apologize in advance and thank you for your permission to do so.
Probably a more proper form of this--though it is a scene spoiler--is in the movie "Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close"--which is an incredible tear-jerker, is when a little boy with Asperger's finally decides that he is ready to tell his story. I'm not sure if he decides that he is ready--or if he finally has a listening ear--or if it was an intersection of both factors. I guess today was that for me--an intersection of both. If you haven't seen the movie, don't watch this--go out and rent it, then re-read my blog, and then watch the video. That's a directive.
Anyway, I officially apologize for not being in a place where I can genuinely ask how you are doing or ask how your different circumstances are. Please know that while I am doing better than I was a week ago, there are still a lot of bumps in the road and I am moving forward. I will continue to drop my co-pays so I can continue to unload without the guilt of not asking how she is doing and with the satisfaction of knowing that I now have 2 places I can speak without being interrupted: in therapy, and on here.
Apologetically yours,
XOXO,
La
I want to take this opportunity to officially apologize to every single one of my friends who has taken the time in recent weeks to check in with me and while I know every single one of you have a life and your own struggles, I've not asked how they are and not offered a hand to help. I feel incredibly selfish lately because I have not done so. And every single time that someone checks in, I consciously don't make the effort to ask how their circumstances are. I apologize. It is not that I don't care how you are each doing. It is that I don't have the energy to have that conversation and don't have the energy to support you in what you need right now.
Today, I had a conversation that I finally needed to have. Don't get me wrong--every single one of you has been wonderful, as I know I have mentioned before. But today, I got to have a conversation that was just mine. One where I didn't feel guilty not asking "how are you doing?" A $25 co-pay allowed me the opportunity to speak without being interrupted, without feeling guilty, and without wondering if I was saying too much.
There is a show on Netflix that I highly encourage others to check out. It is called "United States of Tara." The basic premise is that Tara has dissociative identity disorder (formerly known as multiple personality disorder). She's married and has 2 kids and the show highlights life as Tara and life with Tara. In the final episode of Season 3, her husband, Max, is shown several times doing "double takes." The scene is done twice. The first take is how he wants to respond (less than appropriately), and the second is how he does respond (appropriately, as expected). However, he's eventually has too much and loses it. Check out his losing it here on a low quality video(for those who are anti-the F-word, I apologize in advance....):
I feel like this a lot lately. I feel like if there were really a camera following me around, I would like to do Take 1--I want to do and say that it is that is within me. And then Take 2--what I really need to do or say. I told that to my therapist today. She said that it is understandable as I certainly have a lot going on and a lot of people depending me. I hope I don't have a scene like this where Max loses it. But if I do, I apologize in advance and thank you for your permission to do so.
Probably a more proper form of this--though it is a scene spoiler--is in the movie "Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close"--which is an incredible tear-jerker, is when a little boy with Asperger's finally decides that he is ready to tell his story. I'm not sure if he decides that he is ready--or if he finally has a listening ear--or if it was an intersection of both factors. I guess today was that for me--an intersection of both. If you haven't seen the movie, don't watch this--go out and rent it, then re-read my blog, and then watch the video. That's a directive.
Anyway, I officially apologize for not being in a place where I can genuinely ask how you are doing or ask how your different circumstances are. Please know that while I am doing better than I was a week ago, there are still a lot of bumps in the road and I am moving forward. I will continue to drop my co-pays so I can continue to unload without the guilt of not asking how she is doing and with the satisfaction of knowing that I now have 2 places I can speak without being interrupted: in therapy, and on here.
Apologetically yours,
XOXO,
La
Monday, August 13, 2012
I've heard it said that people come into our lives for a reason bringing something we must learn and we are led to those who help us most to grow. ~ Wicked, the musical
I would never have imagined that I could finally have 8 hours of sleep in a single night without being chemically inspired to do so. I have now done it two nights consecutively. And I can tell my body is much happier with me, as a result.
I have truly discovered many things this week: I am stronger than I ever knew. That when we are our weakest, we are truly our strongest. The meaning of true friends: the ones who don't ask, don't blame, and stand with you no matter what. That self-care is difficult for me but not impossible. And that while things sometimes have to get worse before they get better, they will get better.
I truly appreciate all the love, listening, hugs, prayers, and genuine people who have supported me and my choices throughout this week. I can't control what is coming but I finally feel like I control myself again and I know I can manage any of the weather I may yet encounter.
Xoxo, La
I would never have imagined that I could finally have 8 hours of sleep in a single night without being chemically inspired to do so. I have now done it two nights consecutively. And I can tell my body is much happier with me, as a result.
I have truly discovered many things this week: I am stronger than I ever knew. That when we are our weakest, we are truly our strongest. The meaning of true friends: the ones who don't ask, don't blame, and stand with you no matter what. That self-care is difficult for me but not impossible. And that while things sometimes have to get worse before they get better, they will get better.
I truly appreciate all the love, listening, hugs, prayers, and genuine people who have supported me and my choices throughout this week. I can't control what is coming but I finally feel like I control myself again and I know I can manage any of the weather I may yet encounter.
Xoxo, La
Saturday, August 11, 2012
Willow
I said I'm strong, straight, willing to be a shelter in a storm---
Your willow, oh willow, when the sun is out.
~Joni Armatrading
When I was in elementary school, we lived at the house on University. One might think that this was in a large city and we must live down from the local University. Nope, not the case at all. Instead, we lived out in the country of a small little Wisconsin farm town where there was not a University at all. The irony of this street name only came to me in my adult years.
The house with a bright red door had a large back yard and a hill that was perfect for sledding. The neighborhood was filled with kids and beyond the backyard was a woods where we would spend hours running around, building "forts," and getting completely mosquito-bite covered. When we moved in the Spring of 1992, however, what I missed most was the gigantic willow tree in the back yard.
This willow tree was at least a million feet tall. It had the perfect layout, begging short passersby to stop and climb it. When we climbed up to the first tier of seating (a branch I later approached to see it was about 5 feet high), we were already hidden inside the leaves like campers in a tent.
Sometimes the storms raging at 4:00 have thunder and lightening that jolt us awake. Sometimes the storms within us do the same. At times like this, I find it helpful to find a willow tree.
In recent days, many of you have been willow trees: prayers are coming from different states, lunch dates with friends, phone calls and text messages and emails making sure I'm staying strong, offers for stargazing and hugs galore. No one requests details--they just love and support. That's how I need it--don't ask why it is storming, just provide the shelter to keep others as dry as possible.
Last night, I went to bed at midnight. The earliest all week.
Today, I ate 3 meals. The first time in probably a month.
I even stretched out on the yoga ball and did a few crunches.
And tonight, I laid in bed with my favorite little 11 year old boy and began to feel some calm coming within me.
The storm is not over, my friends, but I can handle the rain. And I will continue seeking out my many willow trees.
XO,
La
Your willow, oh willow, when the sun is out.
~Joni Armatrading
When I was in elementary school, we lived at the house on University. One might think that this was in a large city and we must live down from the local University. Nope, not the case at all. Instead, we lived out in the country of a small little Wisconsin farm town where there was not a University at all. The irony of this street name only came to me in my adult years.
The house with a bright red door had a large back yard and a hill that was perfect for sledding. The neighborhood was filled with kids and beyond the backyard was a woods where we would spend hours running around, building "forts," and getting completely mosquito-bite covered. When we moved in the Spring of 1992, however, what I missed most was the gigantic willow tree in the back yard.
This willow tree was at least a million feet tall. It had the perfect layout, begging short passersby to stop and climb it. When we climbed up to the first tier of seating (a branch I later approached to see it was about 5 feet high), we were already hidden inside the leaves like campers in a tent.
In recent days, many of you have been willow trees: prayers are coming from different states, lunch dates with friends, phone calls and text messages and emails making sure I'm staying strong, offers for stargazing and hugs galore. No one requests details--they just love and support. That's how I need it--don't ask why it is storming, just provide the shelter to keep others as dry as possible.
Last night, I went to bed at midnight. The earliest all week.
Today, I ate 3 meals. The first time in probably a month.
I even stretched out on the yoga ball and did a few crunches.
And tonight, I laid in bed with my favorite little 11 year old boy and began to feel some calm coming within me.
The storm is not over, my friends, but I can handle the rain. And I will continue seeking out my many willow trees.
XO,
La
Friday, August 10, 2012
Home
Home is where the heart is. Home is where the Mom is. Home is where you go when you are sick and tired of being nice.
While reading tonight's post, please click on the video and let it play. Read the post. Then listen to the song again and really listen to the lyrics.
As I've blogged about before and those of you who know me, there was a period of time in 2008 (90 days was the period of time--90 days exactly) in which I was homeless. The term is homeless, but the truth is--I was also houseless.
There are many sayings about what home is, as the first line of this post indicates. The last one is a quote that my parents have had on their fridge since I was in high school. Unfortunately, it is a sad truth. We behave worse at home than anywhere else. Anyone with children can attest to the fact that their children do just that. But even as adults, we do the same. We treat people at home worse than we would ever treat any others. Not because we dislike those people--but for some reason, we decide to take liberties and treat them less than others--even though they mean more to us than any others.
Back to 2008--the devastating floods came through--my house was nailed--and I lived in the spare bedroom of my good friends Mike and Amy. At the time, I really wasn't that bothered by it--we made out okay when our house got hit--we didn't lose too much, and we were renters so we weren't dealing with the responsibility of fixing a house. When we finally got settled into the VERY upscale "Waverly Mobile Home Park" after those 90 days and some drama from a stupid wench at work, the reality hit: I WAS HOMELESS. I had spent 90 days in a borrowed location. I had lived out of a laundry basket with 5 outfits. And I just witnessed and lived through the 2nd largest natural disaster in recorded US history (Katrina was 1st, of course).
But there is a difference between a house and a home.
A house is 4 walls and a roof. I had lost one of those--though I was in a temporary one now.
And for me--a home is an internal place of contentedness. Feeling rooted. Feeling strong. Feeling loved and a sense of belonging.
Being houseless sucks--don't get me wrong--sofa surfing and hoping people will take you in (Thanks Michael George & Amy---and Amy "Red") is an exhausting plight to endure.
Being homeless is devastating. Looking inside you and feeling empty, even though you are surrounded by a plethora of people and "stuff." Being asked simple questions and all you can answer is "I don't know" because you feel incapable of making a decision. Feeling absolutely no sense of control as your world is whirling around you in an emotional tornado.
I've been called controlling a million times--and more so recently. The irony is--I have been feeling absolutely no control. And in hindsight, I haven't felt it in a while. Or "in a minute," as they say in the hood.
Listen to the song again--the lyrics are amazing. A good friend of mine introduced me to it in college and it became a regular theme song for me. When I'm down, as I have been lately, I play it to remind me that when my home is empty--or messy--
Take me-make me what you want me to be, that's all I'm asking, all I'm asking.
Welcome to this heart of mine, buried under prideful vines.
Grown to hide the mess I've made inside of me, come decorate, Lord.
And walk open up the creaking door and walk upon the dusty floor.
Scrape away the guilty stains until no sin or shame remain.
Spread your love upon the walls and occupy the empty halls until the man I am has faded, no more doors are barricaded.
Come inside this heart of mine--its not my own--make it home.
Come and take this heart and make it all your own.
Welcome home.
Take a seat, pull up a chair. Forgive me for the disrepair.
Souvenirs from floor to ceiling, gathered all my search for meaning.
Every closet's filled with clutter, messes yet to be discovered.
I'm overwhelmed, I understand I can't make this place all that you can.
Come inside this heart of mine--its not my own--make it home.
Come and take this heart and make it all your own.
Welcome....
I took this space that you placed in me. Redecorated in shades of green.
And I made sure every door stayed locked, every window blocked--and still you knocked.
Come inside this heart of mine--its not my own...
Come inside this heart of mine--its not my own--make it home.
Come and take this heart and make it all your own.
Welcome home....
I am working on finding my way back home again.
XO, La
While reading tonight's post, please click on the video and let it play. Read the post. Then listen to the song again and really listen to the lyrics.
As I've blogged about before and those of you who know me, there was a period of time in 2008 (90 days was the period of time--90 days exactly) in which I was homeless. The term is homeless, but the truth is--I was also houseless.
There are many sayings about what home is, as the first line of this post indicates. The last one is a quote that my parents have had on their fridge since I was in high school. Unfortunately, it is a sad truth. We behave worse at home than anywhere else. Anyone with children can attest to the fact that their children do just that. But even as adults, we do the same. We treat people at home worse than we would ever treat any others. Not because we dislike those people--but for some reason, we decide to take liberties and treat them less than others--even though they mean more to us than any others.
Back to 2008--the devastating floods came through--my house was nailed--and I lived in the spare bedroom of my good friends Mike and Amy. At the time, I really wasn't that bothered by it--we made out okay when our house got hit--we didn't lose too much, and we were renters so we weren't dealing with the responsibility of fixing a house. When we finally got settled into the VERY upscale "Waverly Mobile Home Park" after those 90 days and some drama from a stupid wench at work, the reality hit: I WAS HOMELESS. I had spent 90 days in a borrowed location. I had lived out of a laundry basket with 5 outfits. And I just witnessed and lived through the 2nd largest natural disaster in recorded US history (Katrina was 1st, of course).
But there is a difference between a house and a home.
A house is 4 walls and a roof. I had lost one of those--though I was in a temporary one now.
And for me--a home is an internal place of contentedness. Feeling rooted. Feeling strong. Feeling loved and a sense of belonging.
Being houseless sucks--don't get me wrong--sofa surfing and hoping people will take you in (Thanks Michael George & Amy---and Amy "Red") is an exhausting plight to endure.
Being homeless is devastating. Looking inside you and feeling empty, even though you are surrounded by a plethora of people and "stuff." Being asked simple questions and all you can answer is "I don't know" because you feel incapable of making a decision. Feeling absolutely no sense of control as your world is whirling around you in an emotional tornado.
I've been called controlling a million times--and more so recently. The irony is--I have been feeling absolutely no control. And in hindsight, I haven't felt it in a while. Or "in a minute," as they say in the hood.
Listen to the song again--the lyrics are amazing. A good friend of mine introduced me to it in college and it became a regular theme song for me. When I'm down, as I have been lately, I play it to remind me that when my home is empty--or messy--
Take me-make me what you want me to be, that's all I'm asking, all I'm asking.
Welcome to this heart of mine, buried under prideful vines.
Grown to hide the mess I've made inside of me, come decorate, Lord.
And walk open up the creaking door and walk upon the dusty floor.
Scrape away the guilty stains until no sin or shame remain.
Spread your love upon the walls and occupy the empty halls until the man I am has faded, no more doors are barricaded.
Come inside this heart of mine--its not my own--make it home.
Come and take this heart and make it all your own.
Welcome home.
Take a seat, pull up a chair. Forgive me for the disrepair.
Souvenirs from floor to ceiling, gathered all my search for meaning.
Every closet's filled with clutter, messes yet to be discovered.
I'm overwhelmed, I understand I can't make this place all that you can.
Come inside this heart of mine--its not my own--make it home.
Come and take this heart and make it all your own.
Welcome....
I took this space that you placed in me. Redecorated in shades of green.
And I made sure every door stayed locked, every window blocked--and still you knocked.
Come inside this heart of mine--its not my own...
Come inside this heart of mine--its not my own--make it home.
Come and take this heart and make it all your own.
Welcome home....
I am working on finding my way back home again.
XO, La
Color confusion
The difference between setting a boundary in a healthy way and manipulating is: when we set a boundary we let go of the outcome. ~Robert Burney
In attempting to embrace gray, there are so many confusing forks in the road.
One of my favorite populations to work with is adolescent sex offenders. Many find this very confusing, but to me it is obvious: this is an easy group to work with because it is obvious that their behaviors are NEVER acceptable. Take another type of child on my caseload--an angry one who gets aggressive. We can teach him that hitting people is wrong. But let's be honest, there are situations we have all faced that we would hit someone. If someone hits our loved ones, we are going to step in and defend them. Most of us would defend ourselves if hit. So we reinforce a message to this angry boy that we know ourselves--there is gray. But sexual boundaries are black and white--and as you well know, black and white is my comfort zone. Thus, this population, in my opinion, is the easiest to work with because there is no gray.
I set boundaries for a living. I work with parents on recognizing the cycles in their homes that they do not like and help them recognize their role of setting boundaries to interrupt these cycles. Boundaries are black and white.
How do I embrace gray while realizing that I have let boundaries go?
Why is it when I recognize what I need, I feel selfish because others may not like my boundaries?
When faced with it already today, I had the internal battle. Do I forgo what I need to care for myself because I want to be with someone today? Or do I set the boundary and realize that in return, I will lose out on that person today--potentially forever because she thinks I'm being hateful?
Today is my time to care for myself. I can only do what I can do. I can only be what I can be. And have to have hope that in the end, something will turn out. I have to reclaim myself. I have to find myself. I have to let go of the outcome of the boundary I'm setting because the outcome I'm creating for myself--not for others--is that I am doing what I know I need to care for myself.
I want to find myself. And I want to be back in my home as it once was. Can both concepts exist?
I don't know if what I'm doing is right, but I have to be real with myself and know what I can handle.
In attempting to embrace gray, there are so many confusing forks in the road.
One of my favorite populations to work with is adolescent sex offenders. Many find this very confusing, but to me it is obvious: this is an easy group to work with because it is obvious that their behaviors are NEVER acceptable. Take another type of child on my caseload--an angry one who gets aggressive. We can teach him that hitting people is wrong. But let's be honest, there are situations we have all faced that we would hit someone. If someone hits our loved ones, we are going to step in and defend them. Most of us would defend ourselves if hit. So we reinforce a message to this angry boy that we know ourselves--there is gray. But sexual boundaries are black and white--and as you well know, black and white is my comfort zone. Thus, this population, in my opinion, is the easiest to work with because there is no gray.
I set boundaries for a living. I work with parents on recognizing the cycles in their homes that they do not like and help them recognize their role of setting boundaries to interrupt these cycles. Boundaries are black and white.
How do I embrace gray while realizing that I have let boundaries go?
Why is it when I recognize what I need, I feel selfish because others may not like my boundaries?
When faced with it already today, I had the internal battle. Do I forgo what I need to care for myself because I want to be with someone today? Or do I set the boundary and realize that in return, I will lose out on that person today--potentially forever because she thinks I'm being hateful?
Today is my time to care for myself. I can only do what I can do. I can only be what I can be. And have to have hope that in the end, something will turn out. I have to reclaim myself. I have to find myself. I have to let go of the outcome of the boundary I'm setting because the outcome I'm creating for myself--not for others--is that I am doing what I know I need to care for myself.
I want to find myself. And I want to be back in my home as it once was. Can both concepts exist?
I don't know if what I'm doing is right, but I have to be real with myself and know what I can handle.
A little bit
If faced in the right direction, all we have to do is keep on walking. -Buddhist saying
I love walking through Hallmark. I am certain that if given a gift card, I would walk out with a HUGE LOAD of greeting cards. I may forget to send you a birthday card on your birthday--but I may send you a birthday card on a completely different day because I find a card that just fits you. Unfortunately, I can't keep up with the costs of the Hallmark Card. And while I love them--some are so funny, some are so kind--nothing beats giving someone your own words, rather than someone else's. With that in mind, consider this outlet something to substitute for my Hallmark addiction.
I spent most of the last 26 days in tears and worrying. Today, I knew I would do it different. I got some assignments done and I got a little misty eyed at a couple points--but they were good ones. And in the end, I recalled my commitment to caring for myself. This included a pedicure, allowing dinner to be made for me, and preparing for a night of peaceful rest with the rain falling outside.
Probably one of the best things I did for myself today was allowing myself to be humbled. I was asked to apologize to somebody--when I had not done wrong. So let me play for you 2 scenarios:
1) how I wanted to respond: "are you freaking kidding me? Me, apologize?! Wait--you remember how this all went down right--that this is what she did and I am not putting up with that. Apologize? Yeah--I'll tell her I'm sorry she got busted!"
2) my outward response: I don't know if I can do that.
On the upside, I display a tremendous amount of self-restraint at most times.
I reminded myself that on this road to rediscovery--I am going to be challenged to do things differently. In order to not fall into patterns again, I'm going to have to change it up.
I gathered my thoughts.
Took a deep breath. And another. And a 3rd. 12th. 27th.
And I decided I could do it.
It was not a simple apology. It was a 20 minute discussion. And throughout it, I apologized. Several times. And so did she. I explained my intentions. She explained hers. And we moved along.
I can't say it was easy--but nothing worth fighting for ever is, right?
The destinations that are the hardest have the journeys that are the most memorable.
Time to fall asleep. And rest as long as I can--without an alarm.
This Hallmark card would simply say:
I'm sorry. I promise to screw up again in the future and make it up to you. And I hope you'll do the same. Let's screw up together so we can learn to do it less.
Love always,
La
I love walking through Hallmark. I am certain that if given a gift card, I would walk out with a HUGE LOAD of greeting cards. I may forget to send you a birthday card on your birthday--but I may send you a birthday card on a completely different day because I find a card that just fits you. Unfortunately, I can't keep up with the costs of the Hallmark Card. And while I love them--some are so funny, some are so kind--nothing beats giving someone your own words, rather than someone else's. With that in mind, consider this outlet something to substitute for my Hallmark addiction.
I spent most of the last 26 days in tears and worrying. Today, I knew I would do it different. I got some assignments done and I got a little misty eyed at a couple points--but they were good ones. And in the end, I recalled my commitment to caring for myself. This included a pedicure, allowing dinner to be made for me, and preparing for a night of peaceful rest with the rain falling outside.
Probably one of the best things I did for myself today was allowing myself to be humbled. I was asked to apologize to somebody--when I had not done wrong. So let me play for you 2 scenarios:
1) how I wanted to respond: "are you freaking kidding me? Me, apologize?! Wait--you remember how this all went down right--that this is what she did and I am not putting up with that. Apologize? Yeah--I'll tell her I'm sorry she got busted!"
2) my outward response: I don't know if I can do that.
On the upside, I display a tremendous amount of self-restraint at most times.
I reminded myself that on this road to rediscovery--I am going to be challenged to do things differently. In order to not fall into patterns again, I'm going to have to change it up.
I gathered my thoughts.
Took a deep breath. And another. And a 3rd. 12th. 27th.
And I decided I could do it.
It was not a simple apology. It was a 20 minute discussion. And throughout it, I apologized. Several times. And so did she. I explained my intentions. She explained hers. And we moved along.
I can't say it was easy--but nothing worth fighting for ever is, right?
The destinations that are the hardest have the journeys that are the most memorable.
Time to fall asleep. And rest as long as I can--without an alarm.
This Hallmark card would simply say:
I'm sorry. I promise to screw up again in the future and make it up to you. And I hope you'll do the same. Let's screw up together so we can learn to do it less.
Love always,
La
Thursday, August 9, 2012
I won't give up....
When I look into your eyes, it is like watching the night sky or a beautiful sunrise--there's so much they hold.
And just like them old stars, I see that you've come so far to be right where you are--how old is your soul?
I won't give up on us even if the skies get rough. I'm giving you all my love and still looking up.
And when you're needing your space to do some navigating, I'll be here patiently waiting to see what you find.
Even the stars they burn. Some even fall to the earth. We've got a lot to learn--and God knows we're worth it.
No I won't give up.
I don't want to be someone who walks away so easily.
I'm here to stay and make the difference I can make.
Our differences they do a lot to teach us how to use the tools and gifts we got here.
We got a lot at stake.
And in the end at least you're still my friend.
At least we did intend for us to work.
We didn't break, we didn't burn.
We had to learn how to bend without the world caving in.
I had to learn what I've got, what I'm not and who I am.
I won't give up on us even if the skies get rough. I'm giving you all my love. I'm still looking up.
I won't give up on us. God knows I'm tough enough.
We got a lot to learn. God knows we're worth it.
I won't give up on us even if the skies get rough. I'm giving you all my love. I'm still looking up.
Hope
Hope is a thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all. -Emily Dickinson
Waking up after a 4 hour sleep is far short of refreshing. My mind constantly turns and cannot rest. My body aches--it has ached for weeks. I know I need sleep. Tonight, I hope to find it. "Rest" and "Take care of yourself" everyone says. "I'm doing the best I can," I respond. I know it is not good enough because my arms twitch, and I've had a muscle spasm in my left eye for about a week, I think. People may think I'm winking at them. I'll let them go on thinking it still.
For weeks, I have lived without sleep. I have lived with eating next to nothing, and what I do eat is garbage food (but nothing beats a good helping of Velveeta Shells & Cheese or a Tombstone Cheese Pizza!)--and anything but Gluten-Free, a lifestyle I acquired 10 months ago. I have stopped noticing the constant anxiety pit that I feel in my stomach. I have to ask myself every day to double check the status of showering, teeth brushing, and deodorant-wearing. Most days I do all three--let's hope you're not standing downwind on the other days. Exercise is non-existent because my body is too weak to even fathom lifting a dumbbell or running a block. When I feel angry, adrenaline fuels me for a short time, but quickly dies. And my adrenal glands have been the only gas that I had in a reserve tank and at this point--they are empty.
It is time for a fresh start. Time to make sure, that if nothing else takes place, that at the end of the day I have eaten, showered & practiced basic personal hygiene, and I lay down to sleep.
The worrying is useless. It hasn't helped anyone. Hasn't made anything better. So today, I will release it and instead listen for the wordless, endless tune in my soul and cling to the hope I need to get me back on my own 2 feet. I've already eaten breakfast. Next will come a shower, some tooth brushing and even a little deodorant. I hope to have conversations and to interface with loved ones that will help to nourish my soul, water my dying tree and help me to grow strong again. And if that does not happen, I will have to find the strength to remove myself from any weather that threatens my tree's well-being.
This spring, I decided I wanted to grow a garden and I wanted to have yard of the year. I spent hours and lots of dollars on planters, pots, dirt, seeds, flowers and vegetables. The front had purple and the side was blue. And in the back--I decided to do some container vegetable gardens. Hanging plants hung on every hook and the porch had pots with various succulents. My favorite was a decorative wash bin that I filled with black river rocks and put in a host of carnivorous plants. Everyday, I took the time to water, to weed, and to care for these. I may be biased, but I'm certain that if Martha Stewart had come by, she would've wanted to shake my hand.
In recent weeks, it has gone to the back burner. The grass grew tall in only a week with rains that dumped out endless water. The weeds grew even more. And then the blazing heat scorched my little plants. When I finally stopped to look, all of my garden endeavors were a mess. Yard of the year trophy had been revoked.
A friend loaned an electric hedge trimmer. I fired up the lawnmower. And now everything has been cut. The bushes are trimmed, the grass is cut (with diagonal cuts--I do like to show off, you know). And the salvageable flowers are visible as the weeds have been scaled back. I didn't do that on my own. Even when we were feeling disconnected, we all worked together and got it done.
I can't promise that my trophy will be returned, nor that I can maintain the level of care for that garden anymore that I once did. The container plants were a flop, but we have had a few good tomatoes off of a few plants. Mostly the flop was that I over planted in them and didn't create drain holes (that's a hint to anybody who wants to copy me next year). The carnivorous plants are still alive and are still my favorite. But right now, I need as much low-maintenance responsibility for anything else as possible because my maintenance time, energy and cash flow have to be for myself. The yard will not embarrass the neighbors--I can assure you of that--but it will be a small hobby for me and nothing else.
I hope today is a good day for us all. We all need it. And if ugliness interferes with my hopes, I ask for the strength to step aside and let ugliness pass me by, and not absorb me.
I know I can do it. I know we can do it. I know our garden can flourish again if first we take care of ourselves and take care of each other. The season of fall is upon us. Let it be a season of changing leaves, a season of change--and not a season of loss.
Love always & forever, little rabbit,
La
Waking up after a 4 hour sleep is far short of refreshing. My mind constantly turns and cannot rest. My body aches--it has ached for weeks. I know I need sleep. Tonight, I hope to find it. "Rest" and "Take care of yourself" everyone says. "I'm doing the best I can," I respond. I know it is not good enough because my arms twitch, and I've had a muscle spasm in my left eye for about a week, I think. People may think I'm winking at them. I'll let them go on thinking it still.
For weeks, I have lived without sleep. I have lived with eating next to nothing, and what I do eat is garbage food (but nothing beats a good helping of Velveeta Shells & Cheese or a Tombstone Cheese Pizza!)--and anything but Gluten-Free, a lifestyle I acquired 10 months ago. I have stopped noticing the constant anxiety pit that I feel in my stomach. I have to ask myself every day to double check the status of showering, teeth brushing, and deodorant-wearing. Most days I do all three--let's hope you're not standing downwind on the other days. Exercise is non-existent because my body is too weak to even fathom lifting a dumbbell or running a block. When I feel angry, adrenaline fuels me for a short time, but quickly dies. And my adrenal glands have been the only gas that I had in a reserve tank and at this point--they are empty.
It is time for a fresh start. Time to make sure, that if nothing else takes place, that at the end of the day I have eaten, showered & practiced basic personal hygiene, and I lay down to sleep.
The worrying is useless. It hasn't helped anyone. Hasn't made anything better. So today, I will release it and instead listen for the wordless, endless tune in my soul and cling to the hope I need to get me back on my own 2 feet. I've already eaten breakfast. Next will come a shower, some tooth brushing and even a little deodorant. I hope to have conversations and to interface with loved ones that will help to nourish my soul, water my dying tree and help me to grow strong again. And if that does not happen, I will have to find the strength to remove myself from any weather that threatens my tree's well-being.
In recent weeks, it has gone to the back burner. The grass grew tall in only a week with rains that dumped out endless water. The weeds grew even more. And then the blazing heat scorched my little plants. When I finally stopped to look, all of my garden endeavors were a mess. Yard of the year trophy had been revoked.
A friend loaned an electric hedge trimmer. I fired up the lawnmower. And now everything has been cut. The bushes are trimmed, the grass is cut (with diagonal cuts--I do like to show off, you know). And the salvageable flowers are visible as the weeds have been scaled back. I didn't do that on my own. Even when we were feeling disconnected, we all worked together and got it done.
I can't promise that my trophy will be returned, nor that I can maintain the level of care for that garden anymore that I once did. The container plants were a flop, but we have had a few good tomatoes off of a few plants. Mostly the flop was that I over planted in them and didn't create drain holes (that's a hint to anybody who wants to copy me next year). The carnivorous plants are still alive and are still my favorite. But right now, I need as much low-maintenance responsibility for anything else as possible because my maintenance time, energy and cash flow have to be for myself. The yard will not embarrass the neighbors--I can assure you of that--but it will be a small hobby for me and nothing else.
I hope today is a good day for us all. We all need it. And if ugliness interferes with my hopes, I ask for the strength to step aside and let ugliness pass me by, and not absorb me.
I know I can do it. I know we can do it. I know our garden can flourish again if first we take care of ourselves and take care of each other. The season of fall is upon us. Let it be a season of changing leaves, a season of change--and not a season of loss.
Love always & forever, little rabbit,
La
Back for round 2
If you are going through hell, keep going. ~Winston Churchill.
I remember a song we used to sing with the kids at Vacation Bible School and Sunday School when I was a kid.
"On a day like this (clap, clap), on a day like this (clap, clap), on a day like this (clap), oh and I need the Lord to help me."
Each round, you would come back adding another action to the clap. Clapping, stomping, cow-milking--I think by the end there were probably about 8 different actions. It was always funny and silly and the kids found the funniest part to be when the "grown ups" would forget the action or get it out of order.
In recent weeks (clap, clap) I have needed the Lord. Those who know me well know I would consider myself spiritual, at best. But in the last several weeks, I have dealt with emotional lows, fears, sadnesses and realities that have left me empty--void--and powerless. Being in the Bible belt requires that anybody you know--friend or stranger--will tell you any chance that they can that "they are praying for you" or "just to pray on it."
I'm a proof girl. I want to see evidence. I want it in black and white. Yet--over a year ago--I decided to embrace gray.
I'm also a doer. A fixer. Leaky toilet? I'm on it. Grass too long? Consider it cut. I may not always have the best solution (though I would argue that most times I do--ha!), but I always have one.
However, the last few weeks (clap, clap) have left me at a loss of solutions. I don't know the answer. I can't see the end result and I can't tell anyone how to get there.
My Southern friends assure me, "there is a light at the end of the tunnel." And while I worry that the light is a train coming to hit me head on, I realize that if even that is the case, I won't be able to find a solution for that--if it is coming, it is coming.
So when I have no answers and I have no proof--I find myself singing the song.
Oh I need the Lord to help me.
Please keep me and my loved ones in your thoughts & prayers. There are large mountains ahead for all of us and doing anything less than climbing and conquering them will leave us right where we are--lost.
Some write poetry about losing faith when they want to believe so bad. Some go for days without talking when all they want to hear is "it is not your fault." Some cry and want to "kick someone's balls off" when they don't understand. Some check out emotionally.
But me--I'm a doer. And I don't know what else to do.
So I will go to sleep, knowing everyone is safe--everyone is loved--and that whatever that light at the end of the tunnel is--I will be here walking that tunnel and not turning around, giving up, or anything of that nature. I was convinced earlier today that I had lost myself. I knew I had to take a breather. I'd forgotten that while on a plane, you are instructed to first place on your own oxygen mask before helping those around you. I haven't done that. I don't know if I even remember how to. But I will learn it. Re-learn, I suppose. And I didn't lose myself. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. And I may grow weak--but I can't do it all and I can't do it on my own.
I'm here. For the long haul. I hope you are too. And I won't give up. The strongest trees have the deepest roots.
10 months and counting (clap, clap), oh we need the Lord to help us...
Love always, La
I remember a song we used to sing with the kids at Vacation Bible School and Sunday School when I was a kid.
"On a day like this (clap, clap), on a day like this (clap, clap), on a day like this (clap), oh and I need the Lord to help me." Each round, you would come back adding another action to the clap. Clapping, stomping, cow-milking--I think by the end there were probably about 8 different actions. It was always funny and silly and the kids found the funniest part to be when the "grown ups" would forget the action or get it out of order.
In recent weeks (clap, clap) I have needed the Lord. Those who know me well know I would consider myself spiritual, at best. But in the last several weeks, I have dealt with emotional lows, fears, sadnesses and realities that have left me empty--void--and powerless. Being in the Bible belt requires that anybody you know--friend or stranger--will tell you any chance that they can that "they are praying for you" or "just to pray on it."
I'm a proof girl. I want to see evidence. I want it in black and white. Yet--over a year ago--I decided to embrace gray.
I'm also a doer. A fixer. Leaky toilet? I'm on it. Grass too long? Consider it cut. I may not always have the best solution (though I would argue that most times I do--ha!), but I always have one.
However, the last few weeks (clap, clap) have left me at a loss of solutions. I don't know the answer. I can't see the end result and I can't tell anyone how to get there.
My Southern friends assure me, "there is a light at the end of the tunnel." And while I worry that the light is a train coming to hit me head on, I realize that if even that is the case, I won't be able to find a solution for that--if it is coming, it is coming.
So when I have no answers and I have no proof--I find myself singing the song.
Oh I need the Lord to help me.
Please keep me and my loved ones in your thoughts & prayers. There are large mountains ahead for all of us and doing anything less than climbing and conquering them will leave us right where we are--lost.
Some write poetry about losing faith when they want to believe so bad. Some go for days without talking when all they want to hear is "it is not your fault." Some cry and want to "kick someone's balls off" when they don't understand. Some check out emotionally.
But me--I'm a doer. And I don't know what else to do.
So I will go to sleep, knowing everyone is safe--everyone is loved--and that whatever that light at the end of the tunnel is--I will be here walking that tunnel and not turning around, giving up, or anything of that nature. I was convinced earlier today that I had lost myself. I knew I had to take a breather. I'd forgotten that while on a plane, you are instructed to first place on your own oxygen mask before helping those around you. I haven't done that. I don't know if I even remember how to. But I will learn it. Re-learn, I suppose. And I didn't lose myself. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. And I may grow weak--but I can't do it all and I can't do it on my own. I'm here. For the long haul. I hope you are too. And I won't give up. The strongest trees have the deepest roots.
10 months and counting (clap, clap), oh we need the Lord to help us...
Love always, La
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