For those with Mothers We Don't Celebrate

Nobody knows what a hard job it is to be a mom, until they are a mom. This is for those of us who have a hard time with celebrating the mother in our life.

I can't remember the last time I celebrated Mother's Day for my mother. Sadly, some women really shouldn't have kids. My mom had five, and at one point or another we all agreed she shouldn't have had any- or at least stopped at the first when she realized she was shit at playing mom.

So I celebrate my aunt, who made it possible for my to visit my beloved Gram more often before she died. I celebrate my sis and sister-in-law, sis is a step-mom and puts more effort into her step-son than his mom does, sister-in-law has the same parenting philosophy I do. I celebrate my good friend who was a sister figure, mother figure and friend all rolled into one. I celebrate my former boss, whose kindness and compassion led me to my faith that has enabled me to survive the aftermath of two crippling betrayals.

There are many women in your world who make you who you are, celebrate them. Sometimes the role of 'mother' is untraditional. One of my favorite 'traditions' started w/ the pregnancy of my daughter was the moms in my playgroup throwing a Blessingway instead of a baby shower. We celebrate the bond of women, who have walked the path before us, beside us and behind us. Recently, I changed the format a bit to create a "Healingway" for a good friend. We got together as women and celebrated her and poured our strength and love into her. There is something awesome (in a powerful way- not like totally rad ) about the power of women who hold each other up.

Celebrate that. Celebrate what is IN your life. Understand that some traditions go back further than Mother's Day. When you look around at the women in your life you can celebrate, know that while it's not what the card companies sell- it is what matters.

So Happy Mother's day, because I am sure that in some way, at some time- you have filled that role for someone in your life.

Changes are Coming

I've gone 'round and 'round on doing this since the changes at Blogger. I have finally decided to set this blog to private. So, if you want to continue reading it, please email me at ecu9697@gmail.com

Why this choice? I know I post many personal things here, but I actually don't mind that. I have had people contact me, thanking me for my honesty about my struggle with depression. Hoping that I am helping people is what has prevented me from making this blog private. I know that now there will be fewer people reading here, but it's something I have to do.

I had to make this choice because Blogger does not allow for blocking just one IP address. I have to block them all and allow select ones or block none. Right now, I feel censored when writing my blogs as there is someone who can't seem to let go of her connection with my family. I had hoped she would stop reading here, but I can see by my IP tracker she hasn't. Her 'interest' is stalling my healing.

In order to feel free with how I post, I have to make this blog private until such time as Blogger allows me to block one IP address or I can get my own little domain and have control over that myself.

My Wounded Child was Validated

I forgot to post about something that happened while my sister was here. Maybe I did but didn't give it its due attention. Given everything that went on at the time, I'm sure those of you in the know will understand.

My sister has been trying to find some people from her past. She found our uncle, he tends to just 'take off' and we go decades without knowing where he is. She also found a neighbor friend of ours from when we lived in Alaska. They had a long talk and this person told her she always felt badly for us. She was a teenager then and we were around 8-10 yrs old. When she found out that sis was visiting me, she told my sister (basically):

You tell Bree I remember how your mom treated her. How she took things out on Bree worse than the other kids. Just let her know that if she ever has doubts about how it felt being treated like that, that I validate her and her pain.

When me sis came downstairs to tell me this, we just hugged and cried. I am not trying to take away from the pain of my siblings, we all had a shitty mother and a dad what made many mistakes. But in the 'original three' I was often the scapegoat for mom until I moved in with dad. Even dad admitted to letting mom's venom against me affect how severely he punished me.

But even now, remembering what someone on the outside saw and felt and cared for me, I cry. It is not all in my head. It isn't here in my life just because I am screwed up intrinsically, it was brought to my life by parents who should have treasured me.

So I just wanted to share. If you're like me and you think even the emotional problems you have are your fault. That being a better kid would have meant a better life, I encourage you to seek validation from someone who knew you then. Neighbors, friends, teachers...whoever. Odds are, you will find you were just a child, trying to learn and grow. It was that adult in your life that wasn't good enough, wasn't strong enough to stand up to the task at hand and be your nurturer. It's a hard truth to accept if you tend to take blame on yourself, but this helps, just one step, but it helps.

Relapse

I'm writing this because the purpose of the blog is to share the truth of struggling with depression. It's hard for me to deal with this still.

I had a relapse early in the week. I suppose there's irony there because I had just been to a therapy session and we decided that it was ok we couldn't find a two week appointment to fit into both schedules, this time a month would be fine. I could call if there was some emergency. Mr. C. told me I was dealing very well and the only unhealthy thing he saw was the usual- beating myself up over every mistake. Then towards the end of the session, P. called me.

I called him back as I was walking out, he totally floored me by being angry over something I had told him about months ago. Given our current situation, I understand, but the strength of the anger floored me. First, I felt crushed because I had talked to him about it months ago. Then I was angry, then I started to feel guilty. I must have really screwed up for this anger and yelling, right?

I was home before the situation was settled.

My initial reaction was actually the new me- calm and trying to deal with the crisis. No change. Then I got angry, again no change. Then that guilt started in and I accepted all the words he was saying about me. Here's where my relapse came in. Instead of my new attitude of dealing with pain through my 'moment by moment' attitude, through prayer and breathing, I started the old tapes again. This will always be like this, I will always be in pain. My body went into flight mode, but P. insisted I stay. I just sat on the floor and cried, ready to accept anything he said. Around this time he began to soften. His normal behaviors changed. He told me he had intended to handle this calmly, but for some reason just didn't. P. said he over reacted and I really hadn't done anything wrong. He apologized and said everything right.

The problem is, by that time the old tapes were already re-playing: Bree, you are such a fuck-up, you never do anything right, you bring this pain on yourself and you will always feel this pain.

How did I handle it different? This time, I told P. what I was feeling instead of drawing into myself. I told him my body wanted me to run and because of the pain, I was believing all these bad things about myself and I might as well commit suicide. I did not do this as a guilt trip. I did it because for so long I have held my inner self, feeling it was too intense. P. held me and comforted me. He apologized for being the one to bring me to this relapse. He told me how proud he has been of me, how well I am doing. How I am changed. Well, not really changed, but back to the sassy woman I used to be.

I asked him if he thought I should make an appointment with a provider I recently found who might be able to put me on anti-depressants. P. said to hold off, I had been doing so well and been so strong, let's see how I deal with this first.

And I am dealing. Those self-hating thoughts are coming back now and then, but their power isn't so intense. It helps to have someone to reach out to...and have him reach back and gather me in his arms.

...by example...

I read recently that if you want to help the environment, you don't have to become uber-granola and try to save the world one tree-hugging moment at a time. Just pick one thing to do and go from there, being an example and doing more when you can.

I suppose my first earth-friendly deed that I am an example of is breastfeeding. Oh, all the resources saved just by no formula cans to be recycled, no bottles to be created...even just the process of making formula takes it's toll on the environment.

Months ago, one of the mom's groups I'm in did a co-op for Earthwise bags. They came out to just over $1 a bag. I have been forgetting to use them, but do my best to keep them in the passenger seat of my car so I remember. I used them when my sister was here, and when she got home, she ordered enough for herself and her best friend. Bam. The environment helped just a little more. Friday when I went to the grocery store the clerk and the lady behind me took down the website from the bags. Bam. More help for the earth.

It's not just the reduce and reuse part of 'reduce, reuse and recycle.' These bags are slowly paying for themselves. My grocery store gives me .03 off for every bag I use. Not much, but at $1 a bag purchase price, these bags will not only pay for themselves, they will eventually earn me money. My sister's grocery store gives .05! So be sure to check into it. You can feel good and not be put out too much financially!

letting go

we've walked this stretch of beach before
the waves fall into the shore
the sand shifts under our feet
what should be the same is ever changing

in the past we have entwined our arms
fingers laced together
heads tilted towards each other

we've also just walked side by side
fingertips touching
the words on our lips barely said

each time we walk this strand
we walk a different way
near far
but together

now I find myself turning away
facing into the wind
the horizon in the other direction
a new place to walk

I hear you call my name and I turn back
to see you reaching towards me, hand palm up
warm brown eyes filled with love
fear
longing

the wind holds me up, pushing me towards you
but I worry that it will fail
I will fall
I have nobody but myself to do the catching

still your hand reaches out
your voice hopeful
the wind gusts around me
confusion swirls in eddies

I reach out to you, touching your fingertips lightly
this is a chance I'm taking
one I am not sure I want to take
if I finally walk alone
at least I know I tried.

Dose of Reality

Recently, someone left me a message that read: face reality.

Reality is that P. and I dated young. Have had marital problems based on the youth and issues from our past. We never dealt with each problem fully in our marriage, everything just built up. Now we find ourselves at the point of no return.

We push and pull. Sometimes he's fully committed, sometimes I am. There are so many factors to consider. First is whether our marriage can become healthy enough to be a good environment for the kids. Secondly, can we give each other what we need?

So here's where my dose of reality is.

1- I have tried to leave, told him he was free, consulted a lawyer.

2- Currently, he is the one wanting to try and work it out, and I can't help but want to try based on his words of love and assurance. I am still scared though. Sometimes leaving seems easier than all the work we will have to do.

3- I am not 'using' our kids. I have told him he could have open access to them. Indeed, he would likely see them more in that case then he has in the past 9mos.

4- I am not 'staying for the kids' and neither is P. We have made that clear to each other. It is not 'for the kids' to see a broken marriage hobble along. It will be the blueprint of what they expect for their marriage and we don't want that for them.

5- For the kids means both parents being the best role models for their kids, whether that is together or apart we have yet to see.

6- Even with the positive progress that P. and I have made, there is a chance that this marriage will end. However, we have the right to not only try, but to hold off on a choice either way in the immediate future. The choice doesn't have to be made this day or even this month. We are seeking help, we have goals and if things don't seem to be progressing, then we will re-evaluate.

7- The only people that fully know the picture of our marriage are the two people who have been there the entire 15 yrs. Not people (even my close friends and sis) that have heard things second-hand. Not people that were there during a down time and a 're-write of the relationship history'. The reason my closest friend and my sister are my confidants is because they can understand that. They have their opinions that might be counter to my own, but they keep them in check because they know they are not IN our marriage. They support me either way.

8- Working through our issues is the best chance for everyone to have happiness. I am happy on my own, indeed have been at the most peace when I have imagined living on my own. But the statistics are that future relationships are more likely to fail. If we can work through this and our other marital issues, then it is best for us and our family.


So there's my dose of reality. Yes, I helped get my marriage in its fucked up state. Yes, I have wallowed in my depression- never made any bones about that. This blog is a fairly complete record of my struggle. I have been this honest in the hopes of helping others who might feel depressed. Now you know one more issue in my life.

Because of that, I hope you understand when I say that I am all the more amazed at my healing. Yes, MINE, not P.'s. He's responsible for his own. I can't force him. Over the years I have talked to him about the childhood issues I see popping up in his adult interactions. Up until know he has refused to acknowledge that anything is an issue. We may or may not succeed, depending on what path we each take. We can only do so much together, the rest is up to individual things. I feel really good about my path. It's promising that P. has agreed to continue his own therapy.

Rest assured that whatever happens, it will be on OUR terms. Not someone's mistaken impression of what our marriage is, should be or will be. To my friends, thank you for your support- even when you don't believe in my actions, you believe in me.

Overheard in the Shower this Morning

Sometimes, after I get out of the shower in the morning, the kids get in. It's cool, because I have some peace while I am getting ready and putting their stuff together.

This morning while they were in the shower, J. begins saying, "Mimi! Mimi!" which she tends to do when she sees nipples (or anything else breast related really). C. replied, "Yes, but when I grow up, I won't make milk." J. queried, "Milk?"

C.'s reply was, "You have the power of milk!"

Another related incident happened yesterday when J. brought me a little toy pig and told me it was her. "Really? That's J.?" I asked. "Uh-huh!" she said. Then grabbed the toy chimp she had been carrying around (it had 'mimis') and proceeded to have the pig nurse from the chimp.

I love that I enjoy my kids so much more now.

Letting go of the Shoulds

Part of not huddling inside myself and holding onto the pain means that I am becoming not just a 'there' mom, not just a 'come cuddle a bit' mom, but a 'more fun' mom. We're establishing little routines to build fun into our days. We joke, we tickle, we laugh.

The kids love when I try to sleep in and they gang up on me giving me tummy gummies. They love to dance around the room and have me film them. They love a breakfast of chocolate chip pancakes.

But in addition to these little rituals that remind me to not just be loving, but fun also, I have started to recognize that letting go of the shoulds is a big step towards fun. For instance, extra chocolate chip pancakes cooked and saved for another time are extra special and silly when they become dinner. Breakfast for dinner? You're crazy mom! So simple and yet such smiles and giggles.

This morning, one of my favorite 'letting go of the should' event occurred. Everyone was ready to head out the door. We had close to fifteen whole free minutes, because we had been free from dawdling that morning. No stress, no worries. Wow, a morning where we should sit and savor, or maybe leave early to take C. to school and really enjoy the walk.

Instead, C. asked me to teach him to cartwheel. It was a crazy idea, but I showed him the steps. He managed a couple assisted and I was amazed at myself for still being able to do one. J. tried her hardest, but when I took her waist to help her flip, she just melted into a puddle. We all collapsed into giggles. Soon, we got up and tried again, this time somersaults. J. actually tried and did pretty well at that, C. was an expert and it's been so long since I turned a somersault, I forgot the head rush you could get from one. Dizzy and looking at my laughing kids, I resolved to remember that the shoulds don't always take priority. Sometimes the alternatives are better for the spirit.

Seasonal Life

I know, how can you not compare life to seasons? The summer of youth, the winter of old age. It's been done so many times and here comes another comparison.

I always enjoy walking C. to school. Ok, the day it was 6 degrees out, not so much. But we get to watch the world around us gradually change. When school started, we watched the blooms gradually turn to apples and pears. Then the fruit dropped off and disintegrated into the ground. During winter of course, there was nothing happening except the cold nipping at our noses and ears.

Always though, there's the prattle of the kids. J. mainly shouts out things like "Moon!" "Burr!" (bird) and so on. On the way back, she'll have me go over the numbers on the mailboxes over and over. It's like she's trying to solve the mystery her big brother has the key to. C. will talk about whatever comes to his mind. Today it was life cycles. He mainly concentrated on what ate what. So I talked to him about how we're omnivores, look at us with our plant crushing teeth in the back and our scissor-like meat cutting teeth in the front. C. gasped at the pure simplicity of that, as though it was amazing that our bodies are built specific ways to do specific things, even our teeth. Well, it is, but as we get older we tend to forget. We talked about cows being herbivores and all of their teeth are flat crushers. The carnivore shark has only sharp teeth for ripping. I just loved seeing his wonder as we talked over these concepts and a little more of the world made sense. Right now, he knows only joy really. According to his teachers maybe too much, he's so happy he has a hard time reigning it in; his Sunday school teacher loves it. His regular teacher enjoys it too, but I can tell it's more wearing.

So while I see the 'seasons of life' aren't affecting him yet, something he said got me to thinking about how we see life in seasons. Right now I will stick with winter and spring.

Walking along this winter, there were only the crows really. Their ca-caws weren't frequent, but when they did sound out, it can be jarring and unpleasant. Even their glossy black feathers look foreboding in the spare landscape of winter. Now that spring is blooming into the world around us, the songs of birds fill the air. I don't know about you, but I forget those sounds are missing until they come back. There's still the occasional bossy crow, but also so many joyful birds to balance it out.

Life is like that. When you are feeling bare and empty, the only thing you remember is the grating sound of the crows. Suddenly, your entire life seems bad. It's all you can remember. At least, that's the way it is for me. I know it is for other people. It can happen personally (it's all about me, I am awful), or with a relationship (it's all about us, we are awful together). I suppose even projected on a particular person. Of course, the truth is, nothing is ever all bad. Just when you are feeling winter, it sure feels like it. One book that is often recommended for those of us living in a winter state of mind is Feeling Good: The New Mood Therapy. The author helps you recognize your thinking habits and attitudes and how to gradually change them.

When you get to that point, with or without the book, you suddenly hear what we heard this morning on the walk to school. The singing of many different songs. Sometimes it all blends into the background, sometimes one twitter stands out more than the other. When you hear the annoying ca-caw, it is just part of the entire picture, instead of taking it over. And maybe, if you're lucky like me, you can also listen to the prattle of a little voice talking about birds eating worms and some animals eat leaves and fruit and vegetables and...

And you hold that small hand tighter, smile to yourself and tune out all songs but that one.

The Final Days

As a military brat, we celebrated the two-digit midget days when we got to go home after an overseas PCS. No matter how you adapted to the country you were sent to, there's nothing like 'home' even if home ends up being an assignment in a new state. The point is, being stateside. So, to celebrate P.'s recent step into the digit midget realm, I bring you a walk through memory lane. Feel free to stop reading here ;)

Again, the bookends of memory. P. leaving for three months 15 years ago, off to the never-ending stress of Parris Island. And then this year, three months overseas in a high conflict area. With both, he had long hours, but we have done our best to be in daily contact. In '92, I wrote to him daily and cherished every letter I got back. This time, thanks to the internet, we haven't just had phone calls when he can fit them in and care packages winging their way to him from us, but email and IMs. Even better, the pictures we've been able to send back and forth. How wonderful it's been for him to be able to go to YouTube and see our kids, hear them talking to him and feel more of a part of their daily lives.

Just like I was reminded of the goodbye 15 years ago, so I am thinking of the hello. As the summer waned in '92, I was in contact with his mom, making plans to drive to SC. One of his uncles would drive his van. We'd all ride together and stay in a hotel. I remember his mom giving me a Mary Kay makeover- so NOT me. Showing me the clothes she bought him for his second year in college (even then, I knew the white jeans were SO not him).

The first glimpse of him, right up in front of his platoon, just behind the guidon bearer (is that what USMC calls it? I dunno, it's what my title was when I did the same thing in AF JROTC).


I held back and let his mom be the first to greet him. But when I hugged him, I never wanted to let go. I worried about that darn Mary Kay makeup rubbing off on his uniform. I felt like I was wearing a mask.


I remember watching his confirmation into the Catholic faith. The actual graduation ceremony, I can't remember much. I do remember thinking this is what the ceremonies we 'played' at with JROTC looked like when they were real. I remember sitting in the heat, being impatient with every moment of military pomp and ceremony that kept us apart. His gifts of a necklace and a pin with the stoic USMC boot camp official picture on them.

I remember the ride home, running my hand over his thigh, leaning against him, just soaking him in.

Going out to a date at the local Pizza Hut that night, his ex-girlfriend was our waitress. I couldn't believe the gall of her afterwards, calling him over and trying to rub up on him, purring who knows what. Funny if you think about it, since his most burning memory of her was finding her in the closet in flagrante delicto with one of his closest friends at the time. He all but laughed in her face this time and walked away.

He shared with me the picture he carried in his hat the entire 13 weeks. It should have been confiscated, but when his DI found it, the DI pretended he didn't see it. It's in our scrapbook now, but you can see the remnants of its time at Parris Island:


Now, not knowing the exact time yet, and knowing he has to take care of the business of coming back after a extended assignment, such as getting his car out of 'storage', I don't know what to expect- even less so than in '92. Will he be home in time before the kids go to sleep and we can celebrate as a family? Or will he be home after they are in bed and we can have a few precious hours of just us? The dog is the only one not expecting him back. She stopped looking up at the sound of cars after a few weeks. Such an unexpected surprise will send her into new heights of spastic running in circles, I am sure.

But what of me? What will I be feeling after all we have been through in these months? The ups and downs and tears and promises? Will I feel like I am wearing a mask yet again? Or will I let myself feel the joy and relief that is sure to flow through the door in his wake?

Dear Readers, I need your opinions!

Today my therapist called to tell me about a yearly magazine that comes out in the mental health community in my state. The deadline is in April and he thinks I am a good writer and wants me to submit something. I think the Wounded Child essay is one, but I can submit three more. Anything you remember reading of mine that would have widespread appeal? Anything that struck a chord?

Just let me know, thanks :)

Straddling Seasons

I like this new place I am. Obviously, I am not totally thrilled with the situation, but who I am and where I am inside me makes me feel pretty darn good. I have been fighting my way up for so long it's been hard to look around. But after the precipice, I have slowly been awakening to my surroundings.

This morning while walking C. to school, I noticed they are awakening too. Frost on the windows, nipping cold on my nose and ears, yes. But there was also a new flowing of noises. The squirrels are always out, but they seem to scamper more merrily. As if they know their winter diet is nearing an end.

And of course, there's the birds. The sounds of chirping birds filled the air. J. was delighted to point out the plump robin hopping along under the bush next to us.

Yes, spring is coming. A time of hope and rebirth and renewal. That feeling spans time, cultures and religions. It's a feeling that's so primal we all feel it. When I was young, fall was my favorite season. It meant school and less hours at home. I find that the beginning of fall and the beginning of spring have much the same feel. But as I get older, I find I much prefer spring. Although fall still has its attractions, the hope is spring is wonderful to behold.

Happy Birthday P.!

Another year older. We have both changed so much since we were 18. It would be a shame if we didn't.

Chatting with P. last night, he had a bad headache. A Bree migraine he called it. But still, he chatted with me about family stuff until the wee hours because he said it made him feel better and forget the pain. He was also sweet enough to comfort me with all my roadblock issues mentioned in the previous posting. Suddenly, as we were saying goodnight I realized it was his birthday where he is.

How things have changed.

Here's a pic of me giving him a gift the first birthday we spent together, the big one-nine. Sorry for the quality, it's a pic of the one in our scrapbook, it's also 15yrs old.

I bought him a Victorinox Swiss Army knife. He had bought a $10 imitation that of course tarnished before he had it a month and, going by my Boompa's belief that buying the good stuff once is better than buying the cheap stuff multiple times, I saved up and bought him a real Swiss Army knife.


Know your family is thinking of you, loving you and praying for your safety P. We're eagerly awaiting your homecoming (more 'vintage' P. and Bree pics when that draws nearer).

We'll have a cake and celebration when you get home.

road blocks, bumps and dips

Here we are, in the last weeks of P. being gone and I find them harder than even the first weeks. The kids are great, it's just me. I know what it's going to be like to be together again after three months and then I don't know.

There's a roadblock I can't really put a name to. It's a pitiful roadblock really. If I was at another place in my life I would look at it more as a speed bump. Or rather more like what they had when I was growing up in California, dips. I remember the big yellow signs, cautioning: DIP. Yeah, I can see that in conjunction with this road block. Too bad it's still a roadblock because of how I am feeling right now.

It's leading to my feeling of unrest and uncompleted business. I want to laugh at it, snarl at it, release my bile at it. Anything to get past it. But my hands are tied because I don't exactly know what to do, what I should do even.

I'm tired of crying. I wish I could see the strength in myself that other people say they see in me.

When we were talking about being back together yesterday, P. told me he was looking forward to seeing his best friend again. The smart, funny (if sarcastic), sexy woman he married but sometimes forgot to appreciate for who she is. Only, I didn't recognize that person. A few months ago, I felt so strong. Then how come now, when the waiting is almost over, the answers are in front of me- how come now I am feeling so weak?

Maybe just because I can.

Just a Ring

Those little circles hold so much symbolism. Round and round to eternity for one. What type you pick tells something about who you are. How important they are, when you wear them, when you take them off.

The story of my wedding ring. We shopped around for one we could afford in college. I wanted a plain gold band. P. wanted a heart shaped diamond. He got his way. We found a nice little .25 carat heart that P. kept talking about upgrading eventually but I wanted to keep. After all, it was 'the ring' we got married with, anything else was just show. So he began talking showy anniversary bands.

At one point, while playing soccer at a local park with some friends, the diamond fell out. It was replaced since it was still under warranty, but still, it changed the feel of 'my ring'. Sometime in '98 I became aware of conflict diamonds and nixed Pete's window shopping for a new band. No new diamonds, make them some other stone or antiques.

Early in June '06, the diamond fell out again. I was informed this happens frequently in heart shaped diamonds. So we began shopping again, sending links back and forth trying to find a balance between P.'s desire to show how much he loved me by the size of the ring and my desire to be socially conscious (oh and it didn't help I learned there were issues with gold mining too- why did that surprise me?)

Given our problems in the fall that we are trying to work through now, I feel that maybe the diamond falling out and the subsequent inability to agree on a ring was a sign. P. assured me it wasn't.

But in the meantime, after reaching my personal precipice and jumping over it (as read in my St. George entry), I had purchased a posey ring with money I earned sewing. It was custom made with the words: Moment by Moment. I wanted a reminder that I could survive anything moment by moment. The sentiment has been a blessing to me given all that has happened. Even more so when a talk with my pastor revealed that there is a scripture that basically says you let Jesus in moment by moment. It's not a once and forever thing, you have to keep open to Him. The same with forgiveness. You don't forgive once, you forgive every moment you make the choice to do so.

I wore that ring on my right, my left hand feeling empty. Eventually, Pete asked me to wear something on my left hand and I picked a tiny anniversary band I hadn't worn in years. On our anniversary, he sent me a temporary replacement ring he ordered online.

Today, he sent a link to a new diamond band. Ready to renew our relationship, he actually picked something conflict free. It's a blend of the two of us and the sentiment is very much appreciated. So that's what's got me thinking about the symbolism of rings. How in the beginning, my preferences weren't listened to, and now, they are. It also is making me think of a phrase I have been seeing a lot lately. You can't unring a bell. There are things you have done that can't be undone. The reverberations stay with you for years, sometimes for always. While marriages can be broken, they can't be unrung. They follow you in some form always. I suppose that's why we are trying to get it right even now, even after all that has happened. The bell ringing the sound of our marriage? Maybe we can make it into music rather than a jarring reminder of flaws.

Picture Blog

We didn't take as many pictures as we should have for Sis's visit. But just her being here during a very tough week was a blessing. So, here are some pics of her and the kids:
Sis with C. and J. getting ready to leave.












C. relaxing




C. being silly









C. and Aunt S.














J. giving a kiss.




J. sticking her tongue out.

Music, AKA: What started as a Short Comment Grew into Its Own Entry

I've never been a fan of instrumental music. I think I have had two CDs I liked that were purely instrumental- Handel's Water Suites and Jiang Xiao Qing's Breathing Spaces Don't ask me why those two. Which reminds me, I need a new copy of the Water Suites as someone borrowed my CDs and never gave them back. Anyhow, today, listening to the instrumental part of a very touching song in church, I was struck by the thought that musical instruments are the wordless voices expressing what we cannot use words to say. Seems simplistic to those more in tune with music I am sure. But my bailiwick is words. When I think, I think in words (I have talked to people who think in 'concepts' or 'images'). Even my mental images are accompanied by a running commentary. Words swirl around me like the air I breath in and out, so just realizing that they don't always have a place, that things can be beautiful without words was an interesting insight.

It made me think about how yesterday P. asked me why women tend to put such meaning to songs. Well, he did once too, I could tell you the love songs he used to croon to me and whisper in my ear. Even now, he says we will reclaim "Save the Best for Last" our song that has been ignored for so long. But other than that, he wondered, why are songs so important when a woman refers to them about feelings? Well, to me the obvious answers was they are poems set to music. But in my mind while the poems had the meaning, the music didn't. Now I know, the music is what we feel but cannot put to words. It has it's place, enriching the experience and perception and adding those subtle nuances of feeling, of your body moving to the call that words can't always do. It's almost like music is a translator of feelings for the body to react and words translate feelings for the mind.

I'm not saying that I'm going to suddenly appreciate all the music I wrote off in the past because it was weak without words. But I think I will be open to a new appreciation when I hear instrumental music that was never there for me before. Feelings written in a different language. I can get that. I can feel that.

Non-Ironic Snow

Today was pretty much a good day. As we prepared to go to church, the kids and I were thrilled to see big fluffy flakes of snow falling. We went to church, it's always good to connect with the community. C. and J. love their Sunday school classes, so I get to sit and enjoy the sermon with no worries about fussing kids. Second hour was canceled just in case the snow got too bad. I was disappointed at first but then thought I needed to look at the silver lining. I had enjoyed these past weeks of getting to know the small group of parents that were thoughtful, outgoing and friendly. But I also remembered we had things we had planned to try to fit into the day and with the time free, it was all the better to do our errands leisurely.

So, after church we went to the book store to pick up a book I had special ordered for P's birthday (I hope he likes it). We relaxed with hot drinks and cookies then the kids explored the kid section. C. picked out a Magic School Bus book about penguins and J. found a book with her current obsession, Finding Nemo. We left the bookstore and went to get C's hair cut (short, he said, like Daddy!). J. had a real problem seeing C. get his hair cut, she cried even as he smiled and laughed. She morosely picked up his shorn hair and showed it to others.

Then we went home and I shoveled the driveway and sidewalk while the kids played. I figured the snow was still falling, but I wasn't going to be caught with inches of ice and snow like last time. Think ahead I tell you! I am rewarded by looking out the window and seeing clear driveway and walkways for us. While I was tossing snow to the side, I thought about how I love to take care of my family and how, if it was just me things like this wouldn't matter, it was their safety that mattered. And, unlike last time, I had peace with every toss of the shovel. Last time, hacking through the ice, I just kept thinking of someone who is trying to hurt my family. This time, I knew that isn't possible. That person has no power, and even if that wasn't true, Mama Bears don't back down.

Right now, I am watching the kids get in the last of their play before bedtime (oh, we are cutting it close). C. flashes his winning grin and J. mimics everything he does. Yes, we have power. The power of joy, love, peace, faith. We've been missing the ingredients we needed, but it's all coming back to us. As C. wrote on my church schedule: God is good. We love Him, He loves us.

So I finish the day, relaxed (thanks Sis- for the meals you left, it meant I didn't have a meal to worry about today). The house is cleaned, we've implemented a new system and C. is really stepping up a bit while Daddy is gone. I made it through a very rough week of emotions and just got stronger instead of weaker (again, thanks Sis- it was nothing less than divine timing for you to be there right when I needed you most!) I think back to the sight of everything around me blanketed in snow and for the first time this season there doesn't seem to be anything ironic or bittersweet about it. It is what it is, a beautiful creation that has to be looked at the right way to appreciate. If you look at the roads, all you'll think about is the obstacles. If you look at everything else, you'll see things like fun, joy, peace, quietness, reflection...even ugly covered by beautiful in some instances. I like having my non-ironic snow back.

Dedicated to 'my girls'

Time for an easy blog. I just wanted to let the friends that have been beside me through my ups and downs, crying, laughter and excuses- I appreciate it. I heard this song today and cried, thinking of ya'll. You might want to check out the YouTube link quick, as they are cleaning out the copyrighted stuff ;)


Destiny's Child - Girl Lyrics

[Verse 1 Beyonce]

Take A Minute Girl Come Sit Down

And Tell Us What's Been Happening

In Your Face I Can See The Pain

Don't You Try To Convince Us That You're Happy (Yeah)

We've Seen This All Before

But He's Taking Advantage Of Your Passion

Because We've Come Too Far

For You To Feel Alone

You Don't Let Him Walk Over Your Heart

I'm Telling You



[Chorus]

Girl, I Can Tell You've Been Crying

And You Needing Somebody To Talk To

Girl, I Can Tell He's Been Lying

And Pretending That He's Faithful And He Loves You

Girl, You Don't Have To Be Hiding

Don't You Be Ashamed To Say He Hurt You

I'm Your Girl, You're My Girl, We're Your Girls

Don't You To Know That We Love You?



[Verse 2 Kelly]

See What You All Don't Know About Him

Is I Can't Let Him Go Because He Needs Me

It Ain't Really Him It's Stress From His Job

And I Ain't Making It Easy

I Know You See Him Bugging On Me Sometimes

But I Know Deep Inside He Don't Mean It

It Gets Hard Sometimes

But I Need My Man

I Don't Think Ya'll Understand

I'm Telling You



[Chorus x2]



[Bridge Michelle]

Girl, Take A Good Look At Yourself

He Got You Going Through Hell

We Ain't Never Seen You Down Like This

What You Mean You Don't Need Us To Help?

We Known Each Other Too Well



[Chorus]



[Beyonce:]

Girl I've been knowin' you since you were ten,

you cannot hide from your friends



[Chorus]

sleepless night

my sis is here visiting. my kids are sound asleep. and i can only think of the one person that is not here in our home.

It's so hard to have him gone when we're trying to work out our problems, but the things he's said in the past few days I cling to.

That I am his future.
There will be no sliding downhill as we climb to a happier marriage.
I'm his best friend.
There's a lighthouse we need to go towards and he'll be there with me as we go there.
That though we've been neglectful in each other we can find peace in each other.


Such hope for our marriage, our family. When I want to let go, I can't because he is there encouraging me that we will make it through together. It's like the distance has brought us closer together.

I'd write another love letter to the husband who is holding on through problems, but I don't want to annoy anyone too soon after the last one ;)

I am Woman, Hear me Roar!

So, in follow up to my post about trying to shovel the driveway, you can see what I accomplished today:


Yes, all but the last four feet, I cleared! I poured hot water onto the pavement, it turned the bottom of the ice into slush and I was able to get the spade under and break it off into chunks.

While I did this, two guys were working on the driveway two houses down. I did what they did, only smarter and alone. I feel a real sense of accomplishment. Like I can take care of myself and plow through obstacles when I need to.

Of course, the self confidence flew out the door when, almost finished, I went to go inside for more hot water only to find my 2yo had locked me out of the house! She laughed at me as I alternatively pleaded, threatened and briber her to turn the little button for mommy. J. truly is a mischievous pixie. I finally slid my way to the back door, as our entire yard is an ice skating rink, and talked her into opening the sliding glass door. The only problem is the door is one of those that needs steps and doesn't have them, so it has a protective rail instead. I had to kick up my boots and climb in like a very cold and irritated burglar.

But over all, feeling good. The house isn't looking like I hoped it would considering my sister is coming (I pick her up from the airport at midnight!) But I still feel good and am looking forward to a week of not being lonely and maybe a bit of a break from this I am the only grownup with two kids 24/7.

I can accomplish anything I set my determination to, it feels good even if my hands, shoulders and back all feel sore.

A Day of Hearts and Flowers?

No, of course not, well, not exactly. My day consisted of the highs and lows of someone struggling to deal with marital problems while her partner is overseas, depression rearing- or trying to rear it's ugly head and a pile of icy snow.

The morning started out with a foreboding feeling that none of my usual coping techniques helped. I wrote my fears and frustrations out, I tried to imagine them away, thinking, "These are just thoughts and feelings, not reality. They will pass and I will see reality for what it is." Nothing happened until, at 4am, I got back into bed and prayed, "Take this from me. Help me let it go." Only then could I sleep.

Our steps were covered to the door with snow and ice in the morning, a snow day for C. loomed and a day I have never liked- Valentine's Day was the order of the day. We had breakfast, went outside and tried to shovel the walk and driveway. The snow didn't even give under my weight. After almost an hour of shifting snow from one area to another, I looked with envy at my neighbors down the road, four people shoveling the driveway. I looked at my kids playing happily and kept going, wanting to make a safe pathway for them. I just wanted to give up but knew I couldn't. This is what being a single mother feels like, expect there is no time that it ends.

We had lunch, I went for a nap with J. and when we got up, I gave the kids the V-day presents Grandma sent them earlier in the week and the small heart filled with candy from me. Late afternoon, P. IMed me through Gmail and we chatted. Poor guy has been working so many days in a row that he has them confused. We settled a few issues and were able to close feeling closer again. I truly believe we are growing as a couple.

With the day looking up, we went outside for one more try and shoveling that driveway. An hour later (two hours total) and this is all I had (to the right, you can see a tiny bit of the sunset):


At least the sidewalk and steps are safe for the kids. I think I'll get smart and work on it tomorrow when the sun is at its zenith.

Speaking of the sun, I took a break midway through to admire the sunset. The colors were pink and blue with billowy white clouds. In the foreground were beautiful trees, the vibrant color that evergreens excel in showing the world. Small clusters of snow were swirling around, in a winter sunset dance. Soon after, I abandoned the snow shovel and watched the kids play. The snow was covered with such a thick layer of ice that they didn't need sleds to go down the embankment. The video is from earlier in the day, I have another of the evening play session.


We went inside, I prepared dinner and they watched Finding Nemo while I caught up on my reading. At the end, during the credits song, "Somewhere Beyond the Sea" J. came up to me, demanding, "Dan! Dan!" So we danced, twirling and jumping. I held her and spun around as she laughed and I totally felt the hearts and flowers of Valentine's Day.

Then we ate dinner- salmon with green beans. The irony was not lost on C. who exclaimed, "We're eating fish!"

More than anything, this day taught me that hearts and flowers are where you choose to see them.

Unwritten

Today, after I dropped C. off at school, I was walking home, listening to my iPod. Unwritten was the song and suddenly I thought, today is unwritten. I have things I need to do, but not every moment is written. I took a detour and walked the long way home. It occurred to me that one different turn and J. and I would be at the local tot lot. So one more detour later and J. and I were playing at the tot lot, her joy at this unexpected departure of routine glowed in her face.


Yes it was cold, yes I missed having an adult to talk to while our kids played together. But we had fun, she brought me into her play and showed joy and pride in her accomplishment of climbing the rock wall over and over again to get to the slide. Dear J. is like me. She could take the easy way up, but instead chose the challenge so she could stand at the top and applaud herself.

I want to remember more that my days are still unwritten, through the blank moments, I can explore and find new joy. Maybe find myself a bit more too.

The First Healingway

Just a quick note to commemorate the first Healingway. My dear friend M. has the strength to ask to be uplifted, and she did so by inviting a group of special friends together to celebrate her birthday...and her.

A total of seven women gathered at her home and filled her heart with stories of how special she has been to them. As facilitator of that part of the party, I had felt I kept it too simple compared to the previous Blessingways I have been a part of. But it was wonderful, allowing for more time and love to be poured over M.

Just looking at the friends surrounding her, the wonderful, open, vivacious, caring women that were drawn to her, anyone could tell what a special person M. is.

If she blogs about it, I'll link with her permission. I just wanted to share the experience. I really hope it accomplished its intended purpose, uplifting her to carry her through times of weakness and sadness.

We love you M!

May I take a Moment and Celebrate?

Ok, seriously I have been too distracted lately being (temporary?) 'single mom' and all the other stuff going on in my life and marriage. Sometimes I feel like I barely have the energy to hold my head up, let alone doggy paddle to the shore.

But, bright spot in recent events...the announcement of the release date for Harry Potter, book 7. I started reading these when I was pregnant with C. in 2000. They reminded me of my favorite fantasy books when I was a kid. Of course, after the first couple you see how well crafted they are and how JK has planned the whole story out so you go back and read again...wait! So THAT's why she added so-and-so in a quick mention in an earlier book...that character comes back with a bigger role!

Honestly, I think this is how come shows like Lost and Heroes have come about. I think the producers wanted that "pre-planned intricate plot" that JK has worked wonders with, they figure it's golden. And it is. As wonderful as organically grown plots are, there's something to be said when you can go to the past and look for clues to the future. When things are so intertwined you think, "Aha!"

Heck, I feel like that in real life sometimes. Like the path I walk has clues to the future that I only notice when I look back. So much of life is connected in that way...I have cheesy poems dating back to 5th grade pondering the way life is woven together.

So it's no wonder that I love the fantasy world of Harry Potter. It's well written, reminds me of my childhood escapes into books, good conquers evil (we hope it continues to) and anyone can be a hero. Not to mention, reading JK's site, I've really come to admire her as a person. She stood strong and left a bad marriage, struggling through being a single mom. She's concerned about how we teach girls to think of themselves...she's got an honest heart and reaches out to help where she can.

I need to re-read the books...then re-read the British versions! Oh, I need to pre-order a British version!

This will be 'the end of an era' and I can't figure out if I want to read it quickly or not read it at all. I'm excited for JK's accomplishments and I do want to know how the story ends...I think.

Love Letter to my Husband

This time of year is always poignant. We have the anniversary of our first date, follwed very shortly by our wedding anniversary. Then Valentine's Day and the next month, P's birthday.

With so much going on in our lives, it's easy to focus on the negative. And I have more than I like to admit. I've been walking a tightrope of forcing myself to look at harsh reality and trying my best to live in a dream world.

So here I am, ready to look at both. We 'argued' from the very beginning almost. They were debates on homosexuals in the military, whether people should get married just because of a pregnancy and anything else we could come up with. As we've grown apart, I've missed those debates. Instead, our arguments are more real than theories.

But there was also an instant attraction. As 18 year-olds, we played at that game of drawing nearer and pulling away. But finally deciding on each other was a sweet moment. Being taught how to kiss...that's a memory I will have forever.

The times spent with our friends at the beach. Stealing kisses between classes. Cuddled up in a twin-sized dorm bed, whispering dreams and wishes to each other. Finally being able to wake up next to each other everyday, looking into your eyes and saying, "Good morning, I love you." I never thought that would end.

Somehow, we got off track. The stress of living on our own got between us. Our own past and upbringing caused the debates to turn into fights. And soon there was the separation. A mistake that was the catalyst for the next ten years of pain, misunderstanding and sorrow. If only we had talked through everything back then and tried to understand each other.

But now, we are older and wiser. Maybe old enough and wise enough to get past that old pain...and the new ones.

Because I do believe that if we honestly communicate this time, and learn the tools we were never taught growing up, that we can have that happy marriage we had in the beginning. I know it will be a lot of work. I am willing to do it though, because there is so much past there, so much love, that I think we succeed.

I want to continue looking at the stars with you. Go camping, hiking and maybe play tennis again. Going out on dates and exploring new restaurants. Whispering to you each morning as I look into your beautiful, dark eyes, "Good Morning, I love you."

Thoughts on 1 Corinthians 13:1-3

It's not the most quoted of that chapter, but when I prayed for a thirst for the word (as my mind sadly tends to wander when I am trying to read the Bible) this is what ended up in my hands. It was almost comical, I opened the Bible and thought, "I need to read Corinthians, but not that chapter, it's so over done, I'll start at the beginning. Guess which page my Bible opened up to? So I started reading the whole chapter, not just the "Love is patient..." part.

Here's one translation (NIV):
1 If I speak in human or angelic tongues, [a] but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. 2 If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. 3 If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body [to hardship] that I may boast, [b] but do not have love, I gain nothing.

Actually, when I first went over the chapter, this part didn't hit me hard. The other two paragraphs did. But after praying again to be led in my scripture reading, I found myself back here. Obviously I need to learn about love, inside and out.

This time, as I read it I thought, "Well, what about what C.S. Lewis mentioned in The Screwtape Letters?" About how God wants us to act on a feeling we have in order to make in stronger. Given my recent experiences, I have seen that if there is even a kernel of a feeling, just acting on it can make it grow. So I was thinking if you have just the merest shadow of love, does that still count? I suppose at first it does, but if you don't put actions behind the feeling than it goes away. Likewise if you have actions, but no love behind them, then they are just empty.

We all know people that just do things because they think they should. When their time would be better spent doing something that their heart is calling to, if even faintly. Because acting on something you really don't want to do causes resentment or annoyance eventually and then the action begins to suffer. You put it off, or don't do it as well as you might be able to do.

But if you can find even that kernel of love, and follow where it prompts you instead of squashing it down, then it grows. Then your actions matter because your heart is behind it.

I think.

It's been 15 years...

Since two 18 year olds sat at a table in a college cafeteria and argued about all manner of things, then became friends over the next couple of weeks and finally ended up dancing in the aisle of a movie theater to the music of the end credits.

So much has happened since then, wonderful, good, bad and awful. So much is still unknown about this marriage between "teenagers" and what will happen.

But, for today, I've been thinking about the good. Here are two gifts from P. One is part of a set- little J-girl. The other part of the set, C-guy was at school during the photo shoot. The flowers are the sweet remembrance of our first date. Our wedding anniversary is Sunday.

Snowy Sunday

Finally, a fluffy, lighthearted blog entry.

This morning, I wasn't ready to get out of bed, but since I refused to nurse J. (thinking it was earlier than it was based on the light in the room) she woke up. Then C. woke up. So I got up, checked the time, it was 7am. Our usual wake up time. So I set the kids up with breakfast and go upstairs to get ready for church.

Amazingly, the morning goes well, with almost no stress. J. drops off easily in the toddler room and C. is eager to go to Sunday school, so eager in fact that he resents having to stay through the singing until the younger kids are dismissed to class.

When I forget my pen, like today, I find my mind wandering during the service. I do remember it was the first of a nine week series about the aspects of God and it was about truth, faith, hope and love. I have the chapter I need to read marked, so I'm sure I can pull something from that when my brain is concentrating.

Afterwards, I pulled the kids out of their classes and we had a snack then they went back and I stayed for the small groups part of church. Jilly had a hard time going back, but eventually fell asleep (her nap time is right in the middle of church). I got to talk with a group of other preschool parents who were so friendly and funny it was heartwarming. Then when we started the topic of discussion "Letting Go" (oh my how do I know that conundrum lately) I was impressed at how thoughtful they all are. I think I'm going to enjoy this part of church more than the service.

Afterwards, we came home and I wrote to P. my thoughts of the first chapter of The Purpose Driven Life (he asked yesterday that we read it together). While I was composing the email, he came online and we chatted a bit.

The kids and I had purchased some Sculpy clay the day before and we spent quite a bit of time making two Larryboy sculptures (or, I did, they played with the extra dough). Oh, I picked this picture because even if it does't show her Larryboy well, it sure shows how J. just looks up to her older brother!

Then, we went out to play in the first real daytime snow of the year. I got some stuff in the garage cleaned out so I can park the car inside and by that time J. was too cold to handle anymore (comes of eating too much snow) and we came inside and had the hot cocoa I had put on the stove before we went out. By the way- a Greyhound in booties in the first snow is just hilarious. It almost makes up for the fact it took longer to put her boots on and take them off than she was actually outside. YouTube embedded video below. This isn't even the funniest of her antics, she kept spinning around and when she first took off running she slid down the hill on her side.


Yesterday, in my prayer journal, I 'said' I feel I am doing well with the healing and it's time for my focus to turn from myself to the people around me. I'm really pleased with the results.


For your viewing pleasure, Flower the Hawaiian Greyhound in the snow:

An Afternoon with my Wounded Child

I cautiously approached my wounded child today. She looked up at me through unkempt hair, clothes grubby and face streaked with dirt and tears. She was wearing an iron-on shirt with a little girl playing baseball and the words "Girls can Do Anything Boys can Do" across the top. It, like her flared cords looked like they needed a wash. On her feet were the brown bobos I had always detested and been embarrassed to wear.

Her look to me had the merest moment of hope, but that was quickly covered by a stoic expression. Oh how it hurt to see that on the outside on a face that young! I glared at the faded outlines of teachers, librarians, neighbors that surrounded her and never said anything. There she was, reaching for the book she always had ready beside her. I knew what would happen, she'd fall into that book, withdrawing from the world and walking next to the characters, their lives almost more real than her own.

I reached for her hand before she could open it and pulled her into my lap. "It's okay. I'm here and I'll always be here." She sat stiffly on my lap for a moment, but as I stroked her hair, she slowly melted into me, sobbing. I didn't have to ask why she was crying. I knew. I knew she felt like her mother didn't love her, her father abandoned her. I knew she felt she was unworthy of love and tried desperately to make up for that by being good, but her good was never enough to earn the love she craved. She only saw a future of more of the same, and that was true in a way. Dad would still rely on his wife to know the parenting, only this time it would be a stepmom who had her own wounded child inside. Even this girl-child's marriage, that started out so promising and so full of love would fail her longing to be loved just because she IS.

I whispered in her ear about hope, about faith, about love. "There is One who Loves you," I told her, "He loves you now and will always love you. It is through Him that you will find your peace and your love on earth."

I also told her something that was very hard for someone my age to understand, let alone a small child.

"You are loved. But because of who you are, your perception might not always be the truth. Sometimes you live in your fantasy as reality and try to make your reality a fantasy. It is hard to see things with clear eyes when they are full of tears, but you can. You can see how your friends and family love you- in their way. They too have their own way of looking at things, their own bruises from their past. But they are just as capable of love as you are, they might show it differently."

When the sobs faded to deep breaths, I held her awhile longer, our hearts beating as one. For that time, we were both at peace. When she awoke, I gave her a bath and watched the grime of the past slide off and shimmer on the surface of the water. Clean, dressed and feeling more peaceful, I led her to a sunlit park. I knew she had bruises deep inside that would take more time to heal, but for now she had started the process.

I introduced her to the two people in the world that I knew loved her in the way her childish heart wanted. Unconditional and with the giving joy kids have, my children ran to her and held her hands. As they tumbled in the grass together, laughing, I knew that we would all be fine. The child inside me could help me love my children in the way they needed, and their love could be part of her healing.

Snowflakes

Yet another dual blog day.

On the way home from our first marriage counseling session, P. suddenly said, "Look, what do you see?"
I peered into the darkness. The traffic sign? Car ahead of us?
"No, look closer, in the headlights."
The license plate with one of those vanity sayings you don't quite get?
"No- it's snow! You love when it snows!"

Normally I did, but right then, my heart was heavy with our problems, it only lifted my spirits a little. The first snow of the year and I was too morose to enjoy it.

Today, as I was driving home from a couple of days staying with good friends, the light drizzle became snow as I drove up into the mountains. Lightly falling snow that reminded me of the first one. I started thinking about how each flake is so fleeting. It was like the feelings and thoughts that I have let overwhelm me in the past, and still have to fight now (perhaps my whole life). Like snow, they can pile up, oppress, freeze you in one spot. But taken one at a time, recognized as a thought and not reality, I can let them melt away.

It seems so simple, recognizing a thought as just that and not reality. But it's taken me 33 years and countless therapists to learn that. Now, some thoughts I try to imagine as gnats and I squish them to get rid of them. Others are snowflakes and they just melt away.

I think I can begin enjoying the snow again with the joyful abandon I always had before.

Fisher King

Wikipedia has a bit of a different take on it than I remember from my studies but it will give you an idea of what I am talking about. I do find it interesting the connections the entry draws with "fishers of men" and the legend. Also, the French words for "fisher" and "sinner" being so close.

I was thinking about the legend (as I remembered from my lit classes in college). It was about a king, wounded, sometimes legend has it by his own weapon. As the wound refuses to heal, his kingdom languishes. We see this allegory in pop culture because it is still very much a part of the human expereince. Being wounded (possibly by your own 'weapon') and having the power to heal yourself right there, but not knowing it. We saw it in the Lion King, where Simba ran off, thinking he had caused his father's death, leaving his kingdom to Scar and to fall to ruins. The power to heal was always right there with him. To either accept his part in it or to just take charge no matter what his guilt was for the good of the kingdom. Of course, this being Disney. Simba had no guilt. But in real life, that often isn't the case.

I feel like a Fisher King. I nurtured the wounds in me so long, I really didn't notice that the power to heal was right there also. It's hard to access that part of you when you are busy cradling your wounds. Letting go of that hurt when you are not sure of the healing is hard. I suppose it only happens when the hurt gets so bad that you can no longer fool yourself into believing that it is made better by your coddling, that the only chance it has to heal is to let it go.

What I have found during these early stages of healing is that it is tremendously hard to ask for help- initially. It gets easier. Since I began reaching out, I am totally amazed by those that reach back (and because so many do, the sting is taken out of those who don't). I have more energy, I love people more- even myself. And even better, I am open to their love. I have pride in myself for the first time in a long time. I am looking around me, in me and seeing that I am a person worth something.

I look back at earlier posts and try not to cringe at the whining person I was. Those days are not far gone, and to be honest, it's a fear that they might return. I suppose that's why I keep recording all of this, so I can remember who I was, who I am and who I want to be ;)

The nature of God?

A good friend recently remarked to me that she was surprised to hear me speaking so much from the Christian perspective (and I have lately). She thought of me as more the pagan-mother-earth-goddess type (M- correct me if I put this wrong ;) ).

I am surprised too, to be honest. I have long felt that there's a definite feminine spirit out there, and I can totally believe in spirits within trees and the forest and just breathing in and out the life around us.

But what has worked for me, always, at my worst was turning to God. Most recently, learning to let go. I suppose it could all be an illusion, but it's working and that's what matters. If my faith turns out to be an illusion, well, more benign things have hurt me worse that the feeling of peace through prayer.

I've been reading more theology lately, and I read somewhere (probably in CS Lewis' The Screwtape Letters, but don't quote me on this) that we often think we 'know' who and what God is. We don't. We are mere humans, we have limited knowledge and words. We can only imagine what we know. Everything we imagine is based off of something that's already been there.

So perhaps God is more than even the Bible says. Perhaps there is a feminine form to God that history has erased. Perhaps the spirit pulsing through the world around us is of one being, but one being of so many shades of colors, depths and complexities that to look upon it and to know it fully would be our undoing. Perhaps we need to compartmentalize what can't be.

I do know that, for right now, I need to have faith in God. So it's there. I need to believe that I am lovable, so I believe that Jesus died, even for me; so how am I to denigrate that sacrifice? But I can also believe that I, as a mere human, can never know the true nature of God, so I withhold my judgments on which faith is right or wrong. It is not to me to choose for God.

Old emotions return

Early in the summer of '92, I said goodbye to P. I remember standing on the chair in the dorm lobby, just looking into his eyes, wanting the moment to last forever. I was set to spend the summer working in a factory earning money so I could return to college the next year. He was off to 13 weeks of boot camp. I just wanted to hold on and not let go.

This weekend, I was taken back to that time. The kids were in bed, I was sleepy too. But I knew I had mere hours left until P. was to leave for an extended period- again, 3mos.

I sat on his lap and looked into his eyes. Suddenly, almost 15yrs melted away and I was that 18yo again looking at her 18yo beau, missing him before he was even gone. All the wrongs we had done each other disappeared. We were just two kids, in love.

Again, I have long hours to think of him. Where before it was standing at the controls of a factory machine, my mind wandering, now it's staying at home with the kids, trying to keep my mind on task. I worry about his safety and well-being again. I long to connect with him, as I have almost every day for the last 15yrs. Here's the person I have literally spent my entire adult life with, no matter the problems, arguments, heartbreak...there's a connection there.

Most of you know we are having problems, contributed some by my ongoing depression and some by his own issues. Being apart makes those problems harder and easier. I dwell on them, yet I feel like there is a reason we are so strongly connected. The ache of being apart reminds me of one of my favorite moments in Jane Eyre:

Rochester tells Jane of his feelings of her pending departure:

"'I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you--especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous channel, and two hundred miles or so of land come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapt; and then I've a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly. As for you--you'd forget me.'
Chapter 23, pg. 221

If only those feelings were so easy to live through. If only the forgetting was so easy. At least this time I have my kids to share my love with. They have given me more smiles and snapped me out of the doldrums more often than I care to admit.