Improbable Moments of Grace

"Here is what happened next.
     America went to war in Iraq, and my pastor, Veronica, gave a brilliant sermon about how, with the war raging in the Middle East, now was not the time to figure everything out, like who was to blame or whom we would vote for. It was not the time to get a new plan together and try to push it on through. It was time to be still, to get centered, to trust what we've always trusted in: friendship, kindness, helping the poor, feeding the hungry. So, having felt scattered for much of the past two years, I took Veronica's words to heart, and began to get quiet whenever possible, to go for longer walks on the mountain, to sit in beggy prayer and fretful meditation. My mind kept thinking its harsh thoughts, but I'd distract myself from them gently and say, "Those are not the truth, those are not trustworthy, those are for entertainment purposed only." 

~Anne Lamott in Small Victories: Spotting Improbable Moments of Grace

I've been in an odd place lately but I think this^ is what I have intuitively been doing.  Multiple friends have noted to me that I've gone radio silent on Social Media lately.  And I have.  Partly because I've been busy living.  And partly because I didn't feel I had anything significant to contribute so I didn't mind sitting back.  

Big changes are ahead and I feel the fear and excitement of it all.  

Not a lot has changed externally yet, but internally, I've been gutted and rewired and insulated.  (Many hours of therapy and meditating and pondering and working through stuff.) So. Much. Work. Just like our house that we bought.  It was falling down.  There were carpets that had to be torn out. Joists rebuilt. Walls insulated. Roof re-shingled.  But it's stronger now. It's much more WHOLE.  It has been loved deeply. All the way down to the joists. Now is when the cosmetic changes come about.  And with ME it is the same way.  I tried from the outside in once. It didn't work so well. I tried masking my pain with makeup and new styles or a fake smile.  But like painting over rust or MOLD- the paint eventually bubbles until you can't ignore it.  So I've done a lot of work.  And I can see there is a lot of work ahead.  But now that my shelter is stable I can sit for a while.  To ponder.  To dream.  To anticipate. To just BE.  And I'm rather enjoying it.  

I have come back to the world of social media, but it's different now.  Not because it is but because *I* am.  I am much more confident to be the AUTHOR of my story. The CONTRACTOR and CONSTRUCTION CREW of my safe place within me. 

And I consider that my own Small Victory.  

Enough Already!

And YOU are too! 

I was listening to Brene Brown's Daring Greatly this morning while I was cleaning the bathroom and something struck a chord with me.  I've heard it before but I had to stop and write it down on my dry-erase board in the dining room.  "No matter what gets done and how much is left undone. I am ENOUGH." The bathroom didn't get spotless.  The worst was cleaned and then I got distracted with other mothering duties.  And you know what? That's ok.  I'm enough.  

And you are too.

Gold

You were walking on the moon, now you're feeling low oh oh....

What they said wasn't true, you're beautiful...

Sticks and stones break your bones, I know what you're feeling

Words like those, won't steal your glow, you're one in a million

This is for all the girls, boys all over the world

Whatever you've been told, you're worth more than gold

So hold your head up high, it's your time to shine

From the inside out it shows, you're worth more than gold

(Gold, gold, oh yeah yeah Gold, gold)

You're worth more than gold

(Gold, gold, oh yeah yeah Gold, gold)

Well everybody keeps score, afraid you're gonna lose

Just ignore, they don't know the real you

All the rain in the sky, can't put out your fire

out of all the stars out tonight, you shine brighter!

This is for all the girls, boys all over the world

Whatever you've been told, you're worth more than gold

So hold your head up high, it's your time to shine

From the inside out it shows, you're worth more than gold

(Gold gold, oh yeah yeah Gold, gold)

You're worth more than gold

(Gold gold oh yeah yeah Gold, gold)

So don't let anybody tell you that you're not loved

And don't let anybody tell you that you're not enough

Yeah there are days when we all feel like we're messed up

But the truth is that we're all diamonds in the rough

So don't be ashamed to wear your crown

You're a king you're a queen inside and out

You glow like the moon, you shine like the stars

This is for you, wherever you - are.....

Yeah..... yeah, eh, yeah

You're gold

this is for all the girls, boys all over the world

Whatever you've been told, you're worth more than gold

(So hold your head) So hold your head up high,

It's your time to shine

From the inside out it shows, you're worth more than gold

(Gold gold, oh yeah yeah Gold, gold)

You're worth more than gold

(Gold gold oh yeah yeah Gold, gold)

So don't be ashamed to wear your crown

You're a king you're a queen inside and out...

Songwriters

Muckala, Daniel John / Nicole, Britt / Cates, Jess Clayton

Read more: Britt Nicole - Gold Lyrics | MetroLyrics 

The great Brene

A friend shared this video by the great Brene Brown (Pronounced Bre-nay).  SO powerful! And I tell you what, I've got some things to work on.  And I love the encouragement I get from this brave warrior.  EMPATHY. Not Sympathy.  Seriously.  I don't even know where to really go with a full response to this video.  But watch it.  20 minutes. Turn it on while folding laundry (which I have slated for the ENTIRE day- I hate getting behind on laundry).


I am afraid of telling people my story. My pain. My life.  Because I am worried they will Sympathize and not Empathize.  That I will be more shamed for my struggles.

But this is me.  My pain.  My struggles.  They are real.  And it is a journey of learning and growing (and many mistakes along the way.)

Where does you lied to me turn into you are a liar?  Our mistakes do not define us.  At least they shouldn't.  Blaming?  Ooooh. I identify with THAT.

So watch it and email me what you think.  Or comment.  Or just enjoy.

Stitches

I received some "love mail" today. You see, my dear Mom sent me a package and I got it today.  In it was this book: STITCHES: A Handbook on Meaning, Hope and Repair by Anne Lamott.  (click the link-I don't know how to link the picture)

Oh. My. Heavens.

SUCH a WONDERFUL book. Seriously.  Buy it.  I read it with an orange colored pencil in hand and highlighted MANY wonderful passages and quotes.  It's 96 pages long and yes, I read it all in the 6 hours I've had it (which if you do the math is on the slow-ish side of reading, but I promise you I took time to feed my family dinner, left over sloppy joes, and bathe the smallest wee one and put him to bed, sent the other brothers with Daddy on a project, I also let my kids watch Netflix this afternoon.)

My all time favorite quote, it has a heart by it in my book, and perhaps fellow sewers will love this as much as I do;

Sewing is the finger and heart equivalent of putting one foot in front of the other.

So many other quotes I want to share but there's a reason this one stands out.  Remember my Correspondence Course in Self Care? (If not click the link) Those strips of fabric were meticulously crafted into the beginnings of my very own quilt top.  See?

This pattern starts with sewing the strips together at angles to create the LONGEST STRIP OF FABRIC KNOWN TO MAN.  Seriously.  Football field length.  Then you fold in half sewing that strip to itself lengthwise.  Which takes FOREVER.  

This is me hard at work. Just when you think you can't sew another stitch, that you MUST be close to the end you look down and see that you're not even halfway.  It's disheartening.  So fifteen minutes later (not kidding and this is after an hour of making the longest strip known to man) you might have that first strip done.  From there on out it's easy peasy.  The rows double in size each time so the length you have to sew is 1/2 as long.  (Doesn't make sense, I know- but it's not a tutorial on how but the lesson learned.) The agony of that first strip is real.  It is hard.  It is exhausting and butt numbing.  And yet you plod on.  With hope that it won't turn out an ugly mess.  And guess what?  You were right all along.  It's wonderful and far different than you had ever imagined.  

And isn't that our journey through life?  Our journey as WoPAs? Trying to figure out how to plod on with this forever long stitch?  Having to unpick and resew when the pattern gets skiwampus? 

This is a metaphor that I will cling to.  For I've always been a pretty fearless sewer.  And now I'll start applying that to the rest of my life.  

One foot in front of the other. 

One stitch and then another.  Some unpicking.  Some re-sewing.  And a beautiful unknown pattern will reveal itself.  

Little Man Complex

Revelation comes line upon line as we are ready for it.

I'm not worthy.  I am inferior. 

That is what the negative tape in my head has been saying for... I don't know, my whole life?  I don't think I can pinpoint why I feel this way.  Maybe it's a second born thing.  There's not an experience that sticks out in my mind that says, "YES! That's it! The root of my shame and self-loathing."  There are particular experiences over the years that stand out in reaffirming my own belief, unbeknownst to anyone involved.  But for a long time I remember feeling this way.

Mind you, as a child I was bubbly.  Happy.  Always smiling.  People remember me as a jovial, carefree child. I do remember being happy and care free.  But I don't know if I learned to wear the mask well as a child or if that was a skill acquired later in life to hide my pain from people who might hurt me further.

Being a teen was rough, as it often is.  My family life was flipped when my parents divorced.  I never felt accepted among the kids at church, except for the rare few who are still precious friends to this day.  So I hung out with people who accepted me.  I showed them the real, raw, broken me and they held me close and loved me anyway.  It always saddens me to think that we've somewhat parted ways but I will always treasure the genuine feedback and support I received from them.  My relationship with my Dad fell apart (what was left to fall apart) when my parents divorced and he quickly remarried.  It was messy.  For years.  It's better now, but mostly because I have come to accept it for what it is, not that much has changed over the years.  Some, yes, but not much.  There are so many incidents that come to mind in my broken relationship with my Dad that reinforced my mentality that I was inferior, lesser.  Wounded, I would return to the safety of my Mom's house (or just her voice) and she would tell me what my core knew: I am worthy and worth loving.  I am important.  I belong.  That's not to paint my Mom as a saint and my Dad as a devil but more often than not Mom was safe and Dad was not, emotionally.

When I was a junior in high school (parents split the summer before) my Dad remarried.  The mom of one of my friends then became my stepmom.  We weren't very close but had been when we were younger.  Did you ever dream of your parents marrying your best friend's parents so you could be sisters?  I did.  Parent Trap.  Thanks Disney.  Reality didn't work like that for us.  It became a forced blending of families and none of us were allowed to have any opinions contrary to what the parents had decided.  Or we would be met with huge amounts of guilt.  And more infusions of "I am not worthy. I am inferior." I never felt like I had a right to say anything at church because our family wasn't one of the "old" families of First Ward.  I didn't have an in with the ones who were.  We were friends, but only superficially.  We were poor.  Talk about feeling "I am not worthy.  I am inferior."  Society chalks that one up to a given, except for the few who fought and worked their tails off and didn't believe that nonsense to make something of themselves.  But I was not one of them.

College was an interesting time.  I felt some of this negativity early on, but I also learned that I was worthy.  I could do great things.  I could do hard things.  This confidence is probably part of what my husband was attracted to (I hope.)  I had my moments of self doubt.  "Does he really like me?"  which I think are normal.  I decided that he did and I was thrilled.  The rest is history, as they say.  I do find that old enemy around though.  Driving, I always think other people are judging me of how I drive. (Why are we so critical of people's driving anyway?)  I find myself giving in to this thinking more often than I realized.  Lately it's been worse with coming to grips with the massive amounts of pain I have been avoiding.  I'm hurt. Raw. Bleeding.  I don't show many for fear that they'll stick their fingers in the wound or point out that it's oozing and infected (like I didn't already know).  I hide. I don't think many of my inlaws even know many of my real opinions on things because I'm so afraid of the rejection or talking behind my back (as they often do about others so why not me) that I either shut up or find myself agreeing with them because (I think) they think I am unworthy of holding my own opinion that might be contrary to their own.

My inner voice tells me not to believe that "I am not worthy.  I am inferior."  My inner voice says that's bullschnit.  It's hard to hear sometimes.  That inner voice.  She's getting stronger though.  And now that I recognize the faulty thinking maybe I can break past it.  Thank heaven's for Addo.  What a beautiful blessing.  (One of the lessons brought all this to the forefront.)

As the wonderful, Brene Brown points out, "I am worthy of love and belonging." 
And the great Dr. Skinner reminds, "I am good.  I am strong and I have much to offer."
And from dear Scabs, "I am brave."
And one altered from What About Bob, "I am good. I am great. I am wonderful." 

I sure hope having it here in written form will help me remember. 

I Take That Back.

I'm not an addict. Or a co-dependent.  The terminology is so new and there are conflicting ideas.  I'm not either of those.  I have experienced TRAUMA.  THAT is what my symptoms are.  Why I feel like I'm going crazy.  Why I feel like I should trust but can't. Not yet. Not right now. But I do have hope that it will come.  Some fear that it won't.  But I'm doing what I can for ME. And it's hard to let go that I can't control him.

From the First Addo Recovery lesson:

Emotional ups and downs are expected, and the paradoxical experience of anger coupled with a desire to connect, is common. These feelings create confusion and pain, resulting in polarized emotions, possibly making you feel out of control at times.

Bingo.

I'm not crazy.
I'm traumatized.

This first lesson was big for me.  I know I'm not alone in this battle but I didn't understand that my response is actually what the majority of women feel like.  I'm normal.

This all brings out a lot of issues for me and the biggest one I see right now is Boundaries.  I need boundaries to keep myself safe.  I can trust my husband when he shows me trustworthy behavior.  And I still need to have boundaries in place while I don't feel emotionally safe.  Now how to go about that? I'm not totally sure. In the past my natural response has been to simply say NO when I don't want to do something for whatever reason.  Kissing. Sex. Other.  I haven't always been stalwart on maintaining that NO.  And then I am hurt that I let myself down.  But I need CLEAR definitive boundaries with natural consequences.  They are not punishments for him (though it might feel like that).  They are safeguards for ME.  And that's how I have to look at it.  My healing is about ME not him.  He's in charge of his healing and I can't make him do anything.  Which is hard for me.  I like to control.  So I'm letting it go and working on me.  Because that's all I can do.