An illusion

Well, it's been an entirely difficult and restimulating day all the way around. Lately I've begun to wonder if I'm in love with the idea that I work hard in my marriage, because I certainly don't feel I've actually been tackling any work lately, or at least not going into containment as willingly or completely as I used to. Sometimes I flatly refuse it, and then weep because both the refusal and willingness are half-hearted, and I can't have the satisfaction either of acting out or doing the right thing. I've a certain amount of pride in what I've accomplished over the last four years, and less patience with those who give up, which is quite different from how I used to feel (compassion and grief). So now I'm thinking these are shells I'm building around my own dissatisfaction, so I don't have to look at it. Shaina, if you're reading, thanks for sending the notes today; they were timely!


Today we rented Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. There's a scene where Christopher Lee (as Willie Wonka's dentist father) declares that no son of his would ever be a chocolatier. When young Willie decides to leave home to pursue his passion, his father threatens, "I won't be here when you get back" (way to inflict that Exploration wound, dad!). When he returns a few hours later, not only is his father gone but his entire home has been ripped from the block of townhouses, leaving only snow drifting into the gaping hole. I thought, it's really that terrifying when we're kids; it feels like we're going to die.

I'm Back

I returned from L.A. about two hours ago. I'm so emotionally spent right now. I didn't realize how much so until I tried to describe bits of my experiences to Scott. Saturday I felt like I'd lived a whole week in one day; every couple of hours was a complete change from the ones before. The trip was filled with so many highs and lows, I feel like I crammed a whole month's worth of emotional/spiritual experiences into a four-day weekend. So when Scott asked how the trip was, I couldn't process. I want to journal about it, but right now I'm afraid all I'd wind up doing is recording a laundry list of activities. So I'll try to absorb it instead.

Wake up call

Last night we were up so late that by the time we remembered to call for a wake-up call, the hotel staff weren't answering the phone. So after trying to figure out how to set the bedside alarm clock and the alarm feature on my celphone, I asked God to please make sure I woke up by 6:30 so I wouldn't miss my ride or flight! Oddly for me, I actually had the sense that he would wake me. At 6:19AM, my celphone rang. It was one of my good hostesses, calling me at a decent East Coast hour. As soon as I hung up I realized this was God's wake up call and had a good laugh. I'll have to call and tell her tomorrow; she felt so bad for waking me!

Off to L.A.!

I've been experiencing a LOT of anxiety about leaving on this trip, so much that this morning my heart was racing. I deliberately went to sewing class, anyway, because I knew once I was there with nothing to do but sew, I could take my mind off the zillion things around the house I kept imagining needed to be done. My plan worked (mwah-ha-ha!!), for a few hours, at least.

I also called people, and four or five conversations later, I'm feeling much better. I really want to be excited about this trip... I am excited! Going to spend a little quality time with Scott, who's willing to session with me (what a great guy), and then in a few short hours I'm on a plane for the West coast!

If you're interested, I plan to audioblog from the road. Audioposts should show up on this page. Enjoy!

Note to Self

Things I want to look at:
How I "ration" attention, believing that I can only get so much from any given person before I reach my quota and am abandoned (e.g., today in group I asked for "two minutes" of time!). As a result, I divide attention between my many concerns, rush to a conclusion and don't really get what I need for any one of them individually (then I get angry with myself for that!). Interesting that this came up today, shortly after I wrote about rationing requests in my last post. I also do this with money; an example occurred just last week, when Scott bought me a gorgeous pair of boots I wanted but was too torn up to buy myself. God, the universe and everything pointing to what I need to look at!

Guilt being a part of that theme, I also want to look at why I separate or disconnect myself from bad happenings (such as my uncle who is currently dying) and the people involved. For one, I can't take care of them (that's about me and not a service to them, I know). Stranger, it's like I "forget" it's happening. But then, it seems I grew up in a family fond of pretending everything is okay, so there's a clue. Also must remember to share this with Scott; that is, all the secrecy and withholding of information, so he can understand why it's so scary for me when he doesn't give me an answer to even the simplest of questions.

Hope I'll be able to decipher this later...

Oxygen

I can breathe! Those of you who've known me at least the last couple of years will understand that this is a fact of miraculous proportions. All evening I've been feeling strangely, uneasy even; and a few moments ago while energetically making up the bed around Scott it suddenly hit me: I have energy! Today was my first really good day in ages. I woke up, was alert all day, able to focus on tasks, and most noticeably did NOT experience my usual afternoon lethargic slump, the one where I just want to give up and pass out. It's the "excess" energy that's had me feeling almost restless all day--I had a lot more active hours than I was used to and didn't know what to do with them.

All week I've been waking up in the morning, asking God to help me breathe, and breathing as deeply as I can while I do. I had stopped asking for physical healing a long time ago, rationalizing that if God deemed it in my best interests, he would cure me, and knowing that in any case, I am constantly being healed ("curing" and "healing" not being the same thing). But a few weeks ago I realized this kind of prayer wasn't communicating my truth in any kind of vulnerable way. I was protecting myself from possible disappointment. So I got really vulnerable, and since then I've been training myself to keep asking, vs. giving up (which we learn to do at such an early age)... and pushing against my pattern of "rationing" my requests lest I ask for too much.

Meant to Be!?!

I'm going to LA for the Dressing a Galaxy: The Costumes of Star Wars exhibit!

I had not even considered going (I contented myself with the book) until an off-hand comment by Anthony reminded me that Scott would be in LA twice this month. I thought I could use my frequent flyer miles to join him, until I realized that he's actually staying two hours outside of LA. But the wheels in my head were turning, and I couldn't stop trying to figure out a way to make it work.

I called my friend Gabby, who lives in Phoenix and has seen the exhibit, to ask her if it was worth the expense of the trip. Part of me wanted her to say, "stay home" while the other wanted her to come with me. She immediately went for Door Number Two, so no help there!

But what's really freaking me out is how the whole thing suddenly came together. I keep saying "it's like a miracle," and I'm convinced that it isn't a string of coincidences.

My first clue was that Scott didn't dismiss the idea or write it off as too expensive, but suggested I research actual costs and flight availability (he even helped). The only reason I haven't used my free ticket yet (and believe me, I've tried) is that there are never seats available on the days I can travel. Lo and behold... plenty of seats on choice flights! While I was putting a flight on hold I remembered the thousands of credit card goldpoints we've been hoarding for the last 4 years and wondered if there were any participating hotels near the museum. There were, and even more incredible, there were rooms available on the program. So I reserved four free nights at the Radisson three miles from the museum!

When I called Gabby to give her all this good news, she said she might have a line on a free rental car. Tonight she called to confirm it; her husband's company is loaning him a car for the weekend so she can take the family car! That knocked out all three of our anticipated major expenses; all we have to cover is food, gas, and admission (and of course, souveniers and fabric we plan to buy in the garment district!).

Three days ago I was agonizing and feeling guilty about even considering this trip. There are so many other things we could use the money for (several of which I was feeling guilty about wanting!). I was afraid to go alone, and unhappy with the idea of staying with a relative in LA. I also feared that if I went, I would be so overwhelmed I would freeze, and it would have been a waste of money. Now, not only am I going, but I get to spend four nights with a dear friend (my "sister"!) who I've seen once in the last eight years, and practically for free! It all came together so frighteningly fast that I can't help but wonder if God has some ulterior purpose in it, and marvel at why He would care about this little girl's wish to take a totally frivolous vacation she couldn't possibly have afforded on her own...

The End of an Era

We cleaned out the office closet today... These date back some 15-17 years to our college days!

I also found a framed certificate verifying that I had, in fact, attended the National Conference on Student Services. What amazes me is that, not only did I keep this certificate--which is not an award, but proves only that I was physically present at this event--but I FRAMED it and hung it in my professional office! How much external validation of my existence on this planet did I need??

We've been working on our home office for weeks now. One important milestone for me was boxing up my grad school books and professional journals--which were taking up space on a prominently visible bookcase as evidence of my education and professional identity--and donating them to colleagues still practicing in the field. My friend Sandy congratulated me on so setting myself adrift, a reference to a book he gifted me (and which I'm still digesting slowly), Crossing the Unknown Sea: Work as a Pilgrimage of Identity. I decided not to hang my degrees, either; they just don't go with the new decor!

This is the way of God's Universe for me: when I need to look at something, everything in my life points to it. There was the office cleaning and book boxing, the chat with Sandy, my recent ambivalence about my business, and two sermons (one by Blake, one by Beverly) about defining destiny (in the now, not only for eternity),moving forward, and not looking back to the "good ol' days". Someone who'd had a similar experience prayed with me and said she heard me as ready to move and already moving towards something... I'm just not sure what! But that's the shift, I think; I've finished with moving away, and am moving towards...

Out of this World!

For my birthday, Scott and I hosted an "Out of this World" Masquerade party. View the photo album here.

I had been almost too busy to be looking forward to the party, until Pam (Pamcakes) delivered the cake early Friday afternoon. From the moment I laid eyes on her whimsical creation, personalized just for me, the thrill began!

My friends honored me by stepping into my world of costumes and fantasy, wearing outfits ranging from the land of Oz (Wicked) to the Men In Black (during a game of Mafia, they even named our fictional town "Fantasyland"!). Most precious to me was my own darling engineer husband Scott appearing as Star Trek's Chief Engineer Scotty; for a guy who doesn't share my enthusiasm for dressing up, he went above and beyond by donning not only the costume shirt but also pants and boots to match! Everyone voted in the costume contest by giving "tickets" to their favorites in three categories (the winner being the person with the most tickets). As an unexpected bonus, this process turned out to be an icebreaker and party mixer! "Agent" Ron won Most Ingenious for raiding his closet and putting together a seriously sharp MIB suit. Most Original went to Peggy for her original creation based on Lord of the Rings. And Suzette and Troy earned Best Overall for the Vampire and his Mistress!

I think my favorite moment was around midnight, when I decided I wanted a cup of tea to mitigate the sugar in my second scrumptious piece of Pam's most excellent birthday cake (which was so beautiful I thought it was a shame to cut, until I tasted it!). Usually I'm the only tea drinker in the crowd, but I stood up and asked out of courtesy if anyone else would like a cup. To my surprise (and what surprised me more, my delight), the answer was a resounding chorus of "I'll join you!" This was followed by several minutes of David and Jair amusing us (and themselves) with their best "British tea-time" impressions while we scrounged the cupboards for enough cups and everyone selected their brew.

Parties are usually stressful for me, because I'm so co-dependently concerned about each guest's experience (particularly when many of them don't know each other, which was the case here) and whether I'm being a good hostess that the whole thing goes by in a whirl and afterwards I realize I wasn't even really at my own party. About two hours into our marathon game of Mafia, someone pointed out that I was being quiet (which eventually led to my "death" at the hands of our gentle "citizens"!). I suddenly realized that I was enjoying watching everyone else enjoy themselves! They didn't need me to take care of them or make sure they were having a good time. I had created an environment where they were comfortable and free to make their own experience. Even the spouses and guests of my friends were actively engaged! That was more than I planned for, and it felt really good.

And when the party finally broke up (due to a 1:15AM phone call--we had all lost track of time!), my guests literally turned the tables on me by breaking down tables and chairs, cleaning up and resetting all the furniture!

I'm Feeling Much Better Now...

This came down in our back yard about half an hour ago:

All morning I've been hearing the occasional thud but not seeing the source of the sound. This one was unmistakable! Ironically, Scott was out getting his new chainsaw fixed when it fell.

Scott gave me some good attention and reassurance earlier this morning, after my last post. Instead of doing the things I'd planned to do today, I felt only like curling up on the couch and watching the news until the storm passed. It's as if I have to drop everything and focus all my energy on the disaster until it's over. The part of me that was curious and not scared looked for the wound, and I think it's about hypervigilance when my parents (or anyone) were angry; either lying low until the storm of their wrath had passed, or finding a way to abate it. Scott thought that fit with what he knows about us/our patterns. One important contradiction he offered was that it didn't matter how large or small the storm was or how far away, it's still a storm and it's still scary. That spoke to the way I felt last year, and during my cancer year, and most other struggles: how much do I have to suffer for it to count? Which probably explains why I was looking for worst case scenarios earlier this morning, in the dark.

Afterwards he pointed out the sound of airplanes coming in to land at MCO; if the airport was open, it couldn't be all that bad! So we spent the morning on projects.

Wilma! I'm ho-ome!

Can't sleep anymore. The house is dark, darker than usual this time in the morning. It may as well still be the dead of night. Hurricane Wilma came ashore just south of Naples an hour ago and there've been tornados at the Cape (east of here). Arrow woke us several hours ago when the rain got harder and has not left our feet since (which includes lying on them in bed!). Parts of the back yard are already under water; I had to put on a storm coat and go out with Arrow to convince her to do her thing (in case she doesn't get a chance later; ah, the value of having a dog that goes on command!).Last night I experienced a lot of last-minute anxiety (Hurricane Charlie was a last-minute affair), despite the fact that our local news stations seemed to be unnaturally avoiding their usual doom-saying attempts to bring disaster directly upon us and were forecasting only the predicted track (and annoying me by referring to the storm as "she"!). Now that the storm has made landfall I should feel safer, but I don't. And why am I combing through news-and-weather sites searching for the worst possible potential effects? Going after what the newscasters failed to give me?

Oddly, all the way up until last night I was so unconcerned that I actually paused and took notice and marveled. I was surprised when Scott took a half-day off to prep the yard and house. And I felt like I'd been given a treat when Scott reminded me that we now have a generator to power the fridge (and nothing else), and so filled it with fresh food!

This Explains Everything!

No soap: Immigrants disdain the dishwasher - OrlandoSentinel.com: Entertainment
Growing up, our dishwasher was no more than an oversized dish rack with a door. Today, I'm just as likely to wash a sinkful of dishes by hand, and there are some things that just never get put in the machine (like my favorite rice pot; I only have the one, and what if I need it before the next time I run a load? which is likely since I eat rice every other day, and only run the dishwasher every 4th or 5th day!).

I about rolled on the floor laughing when I read this (in a public restaurant), but after sharing experiences with my brother and a Filipina friend, I realize that some of the laughter is about feeling like a legitimate member of a subculture... a validation of my personal experience... and another identity piece, I suppose!

Reemergence by the Room

If my sewing studio is "my little girl's" room...


...then our library is "my little boy's" room.




In fact, each room in the house tells a story of a different expression of myself.

The living room was about nervously shutting my eyes and taking a deep breath and splashing the walls with a bold burnt orange. Scott was traveling, and it was the first big house project I'd undertaken myself, with the help of three good girlfriends. It was also my first foray into Color; in every house before this we were concerned about resale value, so the walls were bland and neutral (if that's not a metaphor...!).

About this time I joined Southern Living At HOME, and found that far from being decorating challenged, I could envision and install accessories in the house. Not only that, but I could change my mind and move them around!

Next I became experimental, using the bedroom closet to try on even bolder colors and faux finish techniques. Here I learned that if I made a decision and stuck with it, even Scott would support (and begrudgingly admire) me. I used the same stippling technique in the dining room to add "brass mesh" (a mustard gold) over the pale yellow I'd put there before. In this room I also discovered perseverence and physical limits; because of my lymphedema and tendonitis, I could only work a two-hour patch at a time. It took me six weeks to finish, and you can read the story of my improving technique in the pattern of paint as it changes across the room!

I'd been waiting four years to design a room around a favorite quilt, and we did that in our master bedroom. Curiously, both of us agreed on olive green for the walls, which was strange in that it was a last-minute inspiration (thanks to my friend Gabby) and had not been among the colors we considered for weeks beforehand. My intention was a romantic retreat, and (except for persistent piles of laundry) we accomplished that with Klimt's "The Kiss" and candle sconces on the walls, and beautiful furniture (not the "assembly required" kind!) which--amazingly--we both suddenly agreed on after a long search. So I guess that room was about our coming together... how appropriate.

My sewing studio I covered in lime green paint and filled with tulip-sprinkled curtains hung from honey-bee hooks, pink polka-dotted ruffles and all the things I disdained as a little girl, most of which I made myself! I struggled with making it so different from the rest of the house, but am glad I did. I refused to let Scott re-hang the old vertical blinds and it's the brightest, sunniest and happiest room in the house. The window faces east and I like to sit there in the mornings. I call it "my little girl's" room.

Which brings us to the presnt day, and our library/office. In our last three houses this room was to have had a celestial/space theme, but we always carried it out in a very adult and reserved way. This time it's full-on fun! Scott and I made a good team, compromising on color, furniture layout, and most of all de-cluttering. Since our move to this 1300 square foot box we've had to sort and discard little pieces of our lives, but it was half-hearted compared to the purge we gave this room. More than a sense of loss, I feel relief and some power in finally getting control.

So this morning I'm sitting curled up in the antique platform rocker, gazing at the ships suspended from the ceiling, and realizing that this is "my little boy's" room; and how after four years, I finally live in a space that can change and grow and reflect me, and not some model home or college apartment!

Oh No, A Broken Toe!

Poor Arrow! Found her limping on Tuesday evening and doing the "Lassie-foot" thing by Wednesday. Got her to the vet's this morning, where an x-ray revealed a broken toe! So it's two weeks of crate rest and Carprofen, then another x-ray. And this on the heels of all that crate rest and leash-walking and elizabethan-collar-wearing after her surgery! Dr. S. gave us three possible causes for the fracture: infection (no evidence of that); trauma (although we didn't observe it); and cancer in the bone, which would weaken it. I'm just not going to commit to the last emotionally. I'm okay with not knowing the cause of the break, as long as it heals up, or until we have more information.

One nice confidence-booster for me: the problem was in the toe that I had narrowed it down to myself on Tuesday!

Happy Birthday to Me!

Today is my 35th birthday.

This morning I got a bug to find a childhood birthday photo and email it to my parents. These are what I found.

The first photo was taken on my first birthday in 1971. On the back, my mother wrote: "Then here when I said ready she put her hand in the cake and start sticking the knife in it (Isn't it cute)". A one-year old with a knife, yeah, real cute! But I have to admit it makes a good photo. Apparently I inherited my tendency to put off getting my film developed from my mom, because the photo border is stamped by the developer "APR 72"!

The second photo isn't dated, but I put it in the middle because (a) I look younger than in the third photo, and (b) I was small enough to wear an outfit that was later worn by my life-size doll Maritza (named after a relative). [Update 10:17PM: Scott just pointed out that there are three candles on the cake--DUH!!!] The third photo is dated 1975. I remember this dress from kindergarten school photos.

Other than a party at the end of the month, I've had no real plans, thoughts or ideas about what I'd like to do today. Instead I've experienced lovely surprises all week! Monday, my new friend Suzette gave me a cookbook: Filipino Cuisine Made Easy! Tuesday, Phil presented me with an amazing glass tile (a coffee cup, complete with glittering coffee and wispy steam) he created himself. Then came a beautiful card from my parents, and a boisterous email from my cousin Cherry. This morning I received an early morning long-distance call from Lisa, my best- friend-from-the-seventh-grade. Her birthday is October 1 and for years we used to track each other down for a birthday phone call, no matter how long it had been since we last heard from each other! Today, Scott is coming home a few hours early. I still don't know where I'd like to go for dinner, but I'm certain it will be wonderful.

Ginger

Combing through iPhoto today and found this. Ginger was the sweetest of the Freedom Ride horses I met at their annual Derby Day Soiree fundraiser last May. I wasn't as confident approaching some of the others!

Spent some time with Kat last week. Standing in a stall while she cleaned her horses' feet and described how much grain they eat (Scully-dog scavenged any bits Sienna scattered off the floor), it shocked me to realize how much fear I seem to have developed over the years. From horse-crazy adolescent to wary adult; when did that happen? But I do miss riding in the desert; and marvel at memories of myself going out to catch my ornery horse at John's place, pushing hard in the dark to reach the river by moonrise, and keeping up with Tom while he gave Brandy a workout. Only ten years and a lifetime ago; was that me?

The Mirror and the Wall

In a relationship, my partner mirrors the places I need to grow, and is the wall I need to push against.

And a real gem from Shaina: When someone tells you "no", he has just saved you from spending an evening with someone who really didn't want to be there! Or from a fruitless (frustrating) conversation with someone who is unable to give you the attention you need at that moment. That is to say, he (or she) is doing you a favor by telling you "no". Brilliant!

Commitment

Bottle Blue

That's the name of the color we finished painting our library/office room today. It's a fabulous, medium-darkish sort of blue (picture a bottle) and will provide a great backdrop for our sci-fi and fantasy collectibles. In addition to painting, we also hung new wood blinds, picked up a neat counterweight desk lamp, and--after much debate and re-arranging--agreed on a new furniture layout. All in all, a very productive day.

I always feel connected with Scott when we "project" together. Certainly there are moments when I want to tell him off! But his style has loosened up (he eyeballs and freehands now!), and mine seems to be getting more present and practical; I resist his suggestions less and I think he's more open to mine. My highlight was when he finally expressed his frustration with the old furniture layout, particularly that he didn't like being crowded and having my things all over his desk! That rare admission instantly broke through my irritation; I laughed and together we looked for ways to solve that problem.

And somewhere inbetween all that, we rescued a baby squirrel!

Mmm-mm Moment

Pushed against a pattern today. In a small way that seems almost silly, but then that's why they're called baby steps, right?

After lunch (I've been cooking fresh food for myself the last week or two, which has been a great improvement over the long run of frozen and prepared food I've existed on the last few months; it never seemed worthwhile to cook for myself), I found myself craving a Cookie. And after knocking about all the cupboards, I couldn't find anything else that would satisfy my craving. So I restlessly pulled down my cookie cookbook (which I'd flipped through the last time I craved cookies and didn't make them) and found a recipe for Best Ever Chocolate Chip Cookies. Man, did that sound good.

Yet I did everything in my power to thwart myself from fulfilling my desire. Coming at it from a feeling of defeatedness before I even began, I looked for the slightest reason NOT to make cookies. Oh, too bad; I didn't have all the necessary ingredients. Oh wait--I do have baking soda. Not enough sugar... but I could raid the sugar bowl. In fact, if I halved the recipe (I certainly didn't need 6 dozen cookies!), I had just enough of everything I needed. Hmm... Well, there isn't enough time; it's only two hours until I leave for work. I looked at the recipe. I paced the four steps across our galley kitchen and back. It was too bad; I sure wished I could have a cookie.

Then I thought angrily, this is ridiculous! Why am I thinking two hours is not enough time? It was a micro-version of the feeling that the rest of my life is somehow not enough time to start something new. Or that a cookie-making detour was not worth the time it was going to take (unless I was ready to commit a whole day to baking--all the way or nothing!). Well, what else was I going to do for two hours? Next thing I knew I was in action; slowly at first, but then picking up speed and having more fun as I went--discovering I had pecans to throw in the mix; realizing I could use my big stand mixer. I suddenly remembered the time I journaled about making banana-nut bread; I'd forgotten the simple satisfaction of measuring, making, reaping edible results.

So, less than an hour after my "a-ha" moment, I was having a happy and satisfying "mmm-mm" moment with crispy chocolate chip pecan cookies, a glass of milk, and the next chapter of Prince Caspian!

Of course, after that all I wanted to do was take a nap!

Monday

It's Monday morning, and I'm struggling (as I frequently do on beautiful, sunny mornings with the whole, excruciatingly long day ahead of me) with a sense of being lost, directionless, displaced. What should I do? Where should I start? How will I fill this day? It's not that I don't have plenty of stuff to do; the office (currently under renovation) is a shambles, I have business calls to make, and there's always more laundry. It's more like I have no guiding principle or goal or priority to direct the flow of activity. And it's not that I have no purpose or see no value in my life; it's that I can't connect these mundane activities to that sense of purpose (which I hold in my head, but really experience only in fleeting moments).

A few weeks ago in despair I made an analogy to the laundry. No matter how much laundry I do, how well or how often I do it, there's always more laundry. And while I'm not now in despair or hopeless or wilting under a feeling of futility, I just can't seem to Organize my Life.

The kitchen timer has just sounded; mealtimes provide markers throughout my day, and Scott's return from work divides it. Otherwise my day is a formless void that I struggle to fill, and at the end of which I marvel at (anad shame myself over) how little I accomplished in so much time.

Overtaxed

Well, after spending the last couple of weeks blaming myself for lollygagging around and not getting anything done, I finally snapped to today (with a little catalytic help from Ron and Marcie) and gave myself permission to BE SICK. Instead of dividing my energy between taking care of my health and trying to work--and doing neither of them well--I've decided to devote the rest of the weekend to my own recovery. Without the guilt of feeling "lazy" over my head, I feel better already!

So after a trip to the allergist (who I left armed with an action plan, three scripts and two educational websites), I stopped for an excellent bowl of Caribbean Chicken Soup at Pollo Tropical (it reminds me of sancocho; and the new shrimp soup looks suspiciously like asopado) and passed a pleasant hour at Target choosing leisure activities... the Revenge of the Sith soundtrack (with bonus DVD!) and the complete Chronicles of Narnia in a fat paperback omnibus edition. Oh, yeah, and another ship to hang from the ceiling of our space-fantasy themed office, currently under renovation...

I feel so much more relaxed now... amazing how big a strain feeling guilty and angry at myself put on my already taxed system! And after all this time, I still forget to be aware of stuff like this.

Synergy

Deadly Emotions

Joyce Meyer's guests this morning were Dr. Don and Mary Colbert. Dr. Colbert is the author of Deadly Emotions, which I've been meaning to check out ever since the first time I heard him speak.

That time, Dr. Colbert got my attention when he described a physical parallel to restimulation (when you encounter a stimulus and because your old brain doesn't know the difference between the present and the past, you respond emotionally as you did when you first encountered this stimulus--in childhood, for example). Dr. Colbert said that a part of your brain (the amigdala, I think) stores the memory of your body's physical response, and so when you are restimulated [my word], your body has the same physical reaction--for example, an adrenaline rush. He went on to show how one thing leading to another can make you really sick (e.g. sustained adrenaline -> increased cortisol, which if sustained will basically start eating you from the inside... hope I remembered all that right!).

Today Joyce asked him and Mary about workaholics and people who can't rest. Some highlights:

He called anxiety the "common cold of mental illness"! He talked about needing to renew the mind, to re-program your brain with truth from the Word (like what I do in group: remind myself of truth and replace old recordings with true ones). Mary said that people expect something or someone "out there" to change the way they live or they way they think (like God waving a magic wand), when really only they can take control of and change those things. "If you do what you've always done, you'll get what you've always got."

One of Joyce's favorite verses is 1 Peter 5:8 (Amplified): Be well balanced (temperate, sober of mind), be vigilant and cautious at all times; for that enemy of yours, the devil, roams around like a lion roaring [[a]in fierce hunger], seeking someone to seize upon and devour.

I think Dr. Colbert is going to be on the show all week, if you want to check it out: 9:30AM M-F on BrightHouse channel 14. And, I didn't realize his office is right here in Longwood!

Think Denk

Think Denk:

What a wonderful word is "moot"... I imagine a map like Tolkien's, of Middle Earth, with a land named Moot, to which all irrelevant comparisons and questions are banished; or perhaps they simply choose to live in Moot, like some people choose to live in Idaho. There they would live, exchanging non sequiturs, while the rest of us pursue our linear, logical ways.

Just thought this was a wonderful image!

Shaken

I've been avoiding the news. After being exposed to it all day on Wednesday, I've pretty much stuck to the updates and what I get from friends and family, all of who are feeling their helplessness. Tonight I picked up a paper at Panera and read.

I read things that moved me to tears. People dying in shelters from Day One (what kind of existence did they have, to have been living 24 hours from death?). Learning that Florida schools are enrolling newly-homeless children. Victims arriving in Houston being designated "domestic refugees". Rescue workers being shot at. Pain, fear, anger I understand; but what motivates a person to fire on the very help he awaits before it has a chance to reach him? To rape and beat fellow disaster victims?

Things that angered me. Wounds, wounds; one man saying that it felt like the government was punishing the people of New Orleans. A university professor who thinks the government should have ordered a mandatory evacuation on Thursday--when the storm was still in South Florida, and who knew that it would survive crossing the peninsula and strengthen, much less where it was going to hit? The government is not God; neither is it the devil. And hindsight is always 20/20.

I'm so distressed. Last year when Florida was ravaged by four storms, I witnessed the best in people, peppered with some of the worst. Now all I see is the worst, and it's shaking me.

Gas, incidentally, is up to $3.11 (from $2.99 yesterday and $2.48 the day before). But with all that's happening, if that's the worst effect we feel locally, then I have nothing to complain about.

Top Ten

The below was posted in the news section of our consultant workstation today:

Congratulations to the Top 10 in Personal Retail Sales for each state!

We would like to congratulate the Consultants listed below for their achievements in Personal Retail Sales for the entire Convention 2005 period (June 2004–May 2005).
...
Florida
1) Ethel Ricardo, Village Of Palmetto Bay ($69,530)
2) Cindy Capwell, Palm City ($61,545)
3) Elise Beard, Ponte Vedra Beach ($51,463)
4) Kim Sverdlow, Brandon ($50,831)
5) Susan McCall, Clearwater ($48,003)
6) Anne-Marie Hulsey, Jacksonville ($45,361)
7) Holly Manus, Longwood ($38,615)
8) Diana Roberts, Lake Mary ($37,326)
9) Kara Coffey, Orange Park ($36,290)
10) Audrey Russell, Orlando ($35,822)

I already knew (it came in a mass email), but seeing it posted in black-and-white, in a public place for all to see, by Corporate is somehow Different. Official. I'm giddy; I just emailed it to Scott, my parents and my in-laws!

And Kim (my friend and sponsor) is #9 for the state of Virginia!

Ramblings of a sick mind

Spent this fine, hurricane-free Saturday morning behind the Mac (incidentally, named "Hal"; the PC is "Cortana"), keying in orders while listening to the fantastic soundtrack Wicked. I'm feeling much better today, if I ignore the fact that I still can't breathe and eat at the same time, and the vague sensation that I'm not right in the head (hardly a new development). Antibiotics must be kicking in. Since Wednesday I've existed on a steady diet of Boston Market chicken noodle soup (beats Campbell's for actual chicken content), with the notable and most excellent exceptions of Mr. Shannon's vegetable beef soup, Mom's mung bean soup with rice (which I know came from Deguzman's filipino grocery), and Dawn's delicious homemade corn chowder. [singing] Soup is Good Food...

Speaking of Dawn, I spent Thursday afternoon with my new(ish) friend at her home. What fun! I felt right at home sitting on her couch with my legs tucked up and her large Rottweiler mix Ivan on my lap (oof!). It's so rare I meet adult friends with so much in common--faith, band, music (she's responsible for the Wicked sountrack mentioned above), costumes, fantasy, even flatulent pets! And to top it all off... she lives HERE in ORLANDO! Woo-hoo!

Mom came over last night with soup and palitau (filipino dessert); the food was totally worth the usual scolding to take better care of myself (Marcie, I kept hearing "I'll take it under advisement" in my head!). But the real bonus was when she insisted on showing me how to make a tiny little spaghetti strap that I could turn into button loops on my pain-in-the-butt-plaid blouse. I stitched the bias strip as instructed, and damned if she didn't turn that thing inside out with a straightened hairpin! We were actually both giddy over the success of that experiment, and now I don't have to settle for elastic cord (or make it myself!).

Free at last

Today we decided Arrow's incision was healed enough for her to go swimming. It was so much fun to watch her plunge repeatedly into the canal and out again; lope along the bank, her sodden tail casting lazy arcs of water in her wake; and roll upside-down in the grass, wriggling down the slope until she almost fell into the canal. After weeks of cooping her up in an e-collar (the "cone of silence"!) and leash-walking, I enjoyed watching her wholly be a dog again.

So after 15 stitches and 3 weeks recovery, Arrow and mommy have one more thing in common: we are cancer survivors!

Have you seen the moon tonight?

Have you seen the moon tonight? It's large and low, full and flat, hanging heavy over the horizon, and the most amazing deep red-orange hue...

Happiness is...

...a chocolate sprinkle cone from Twistee Treat.

Chocolate sprinkle cones from Twistee Treat always put me in a simple, grade-school joy frame of mind. All cares melt away as long as there are sprinkles left to lick and cake cone left to crunch. If there's such a thing as positive restimulation (where the old brain doesn't know the difference between the present and the past), this is definitely it!

In grade school it was trips to the Dairy King (somewhere on Edgewater Drive, I think, across from a high school and near a church). Dad knew the owner--name the place, Dad always knows the owners--so at the end of the night, they gave us cartons of leftover ice cream mix.

In high school it was the Twistee Treat on Goldenrod Road, down the street from church. Cake cones towering with chocolate/vanilla twist soft-serve and completely encrusted with chocolate sprinkles RULED. The building is still there, although I heard it might be closed; we haven't been since we moved across town years ago.

Tonight on the way to Clermont, Scott spotted a Twistee Treat. So on our way back (at 9:30PM, still open!) we stopped for a cone. The cake-cone shaped building with a soft-serve peak roof stood alone on the side of the road, brightly lit in an area without street lamps. Faded red letters across the top of the building still say "6 flavors", and though there are over 26 now (we tried the white chocolate macademia), they don't have anything on chocolate vanilla twist! I sat in the car with napkins on my lap catching the occasional shower of chocolate sprinkles (they still don't skimp!), momentarily transported to a place where it didn't matter much if I spilled food.

Chocolate sprinkle cones from Twistee Treat still RULE!

Anniversary of a Storm

This time one year ago, we were not-so-cautiously emerging from the hallway fort where we'd huddled during the worst of Charlie, listening to the eerie howling of the wind and the thud and tumble of oak branches on our roof. Scott recklessly picked his way through the backyard and over the fence to see what had become of the boat (I hung back, nervously training a battery-powered lantern on him), but all we could see was debris. In the next hour, shouting in the street and the buzz of chainsaws alerted us that neighbors were about, cutting an opening for one man to drive his truck through and check on his animals. I don't know how he got through; the next day we found the main road still blocked by fallen trees in both directions. The whole scene was bizarre, surreal, and yet oddly novel, so for the first two days I took photos and wonderingly documented the experience.

The next three weeks felt like being disconnected from the World. The Olympics came and went. By the time our phone, internet and cable services were restored, even the news stories and t.v. documentaries on the storm had played out. It was like we'd lived the last three weeks in an alternate dimension, the rest of the world going on around us while we struggled with cleaning up and getting back to "normal".

So when they announced that Frances was coming, I sank into a dread that deepened into depression over the five excruciatingly long days it took for the storm to arrive. It was slow torture; I cried BRING IT ON! echoing the sentiments scrawled and spray-painted on so many boarded up windows. One night, on the way home from a canned goods run, I was thinking, "I can't do it again" when we drove past the little neighborhood church. The marquee read, "I will never leave you nor forsake you."

Three weeks later came Hurricane Jeanne. But somewhere between Frances and Jeanne, I experienced a shift. Here's what I typed in my journal while I waited for the storm to arrive:

I am very distressed by the writings of people saying that the storms are the wrath of God on believers for our sin and hypocrisy. Perhaps this is true; perhaps it is the lesson that they are learning. Everything that happens is an opportunity to grow and learn; but I believe God can use the same events to teach people differently, meeting them at the place they need to grow.

When you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change. Instead of seeing the storms as God’s wrath, what if we saw the many ways he has spared and protected us as his favor? What if we could thank him for the things we learned about ourselves, about him and others in crises? What if we praised him for his faithfulness throughout? Here are some things I’ve learned.

Hurricane Charley took me by surprise. Frances paralyzed me, because I had experienced the disruption, disorientation and disconnection resulting from Charley and feared what could be in store. Had the storms stopped then, I would not have learned my greatest lessons and experienced the peace that I have now, even in the midst of anxious anticipation of Jeanne. Fear and depression would have been my model for anticipating future storms. Awaiting Jeanne, I learned a new model of peaceful preparation that will be how I approach future storms (and I hope all crises in my life). I have learned that I am stronger than I think.

#1: It’s Not About Me
I’ve realized that it’s not about me: the storm is not coming to get me, punish me, ruin my business and disrupt my life. It would come whether I lived here or not! The world does not revolve around me or have me at the center of its intent. Even when it feels like it!

(Job didn’t suffer b/c God questioned his faith; he suffered b/c the devil did! Job learned from it… but the cause was NOT about him!)

#2: The Earth Is the Lord’s and Everything In It
God made the earth. He created it in all its intricate, sophisticated detail. Even the weather is organized according to scientific systems and patterns he ordained. Yes, God can supernaturally intervene to cause or calm storms. But suppose this is simply the weather behaving according to its brilliant design. Do I question the sovereignty and judgment of the one who designed it? If all weather is the sign of God’s pleasure or anger, then he must have mood swings every day! Remember #1: everything is not about me.

#3: Whether I Live or Die, I Am the Lord’s
My well-being does not depend on the weather. It does not depend on how well my business recovers in the wake of three storms. At the essential level, nothing has changed. God hasn’t changed, who I am hasn’t changed, nothing truly important has changed. When I look at it closely, even my circumstances have essentially not changed. This realization gives me peace, even joy (as I began writing this, I was bopping around doing hurricane prep chores to praise music). I have a strong center, a rock. My well-being does not depend on how I feel… in fact, it doesn’t even depend on whether I live or die!

So, for me these hurricanes were a wake-up call and a lesson… but not the punishment of a vindictive God. I don’t fear him for them; I’ve had it out like Job and I love him for it.

My theme song was "I get knocked down / but I get up again / they're never gonna keep me down!" And if nothing else, I'm now experienced in using a chainsaw (although Scott has to start it for me) and cooking on the grill (we even baked cookies!)!

A Major Award

It's a Major Award!

-from A Christmas Story

So tonight I'm having dinner when Scott comes home from work, walks over to the table, and casually places a small, flat disc next to my plate. "What's this?" I ask. "An award," he says over his shoulder as he heads for the kitchen.

Scott earned an award! I jumped right up, kissed and congratulated him. He doesn't like to make a fuss; but I know this to be an old wound and pattern, so I hooted, "oh no, you're not getting away with that!" and pressed him eagerly for details. Turns out they hoodwinked him into attending a meeting this morning as a "seat filler"... only when he walked in there were about 100 people there, to which he thought, "well, this ain't right" (he's got an internal what's-wrong-with-this-picture radar). After some introductory remarks, he and three others were called by name and presented with medallions by the Air Force colonel in command of the project, for making "great strides" in its development. I told him how impressed I am with him and generally made all the fuss he deserved--he matters, and somebody noticed (which he realized for himself). The really cool part was that, while he insisted it wasn't as big a deal as I thought, he was smiling and clearly enjoying the attention. He's getting better that way; used to be he'd let a couple of days go buy before mentioning that he'd earned a spot award, and a week before telling me he'd received a raise! And if I showered him with attention, he'd get embarassed or angry.

So then he calls his parents to make some arrangements for tomorrow, and says not word one about it! Naturally I called them right back and told them, then handed the phone back so he could hear their congratulations (note to groupies: of course his mom used the "P" word!).

To celebrate I whipped up his favorite homemade ice cream, Ben & Jerry's sweet cream recipe with chopped up Reese's cups. Normally he helps me but I wanted him to feel treated, and he let me.

The medallion is pretty cool. It's pewter; one side has an eagle on a white starburst and the words "Presented by the Commander", and the other depicts JASSM on a background of four shades of blue enamel. They're a limited edition and Scott's is numbered 126.

Two cubic feet

We got a new refrigerator. It's amazing the difference two cubic feet make!

We've been talking about getting a new fridge ever since the day I spent cleaning out the old one left behind by the previous homeowners, so revolted by layers of gunk I was in tears. We talked about it after each of the half-dozen times we had to throw out spoiled food and start over, because one of the doors failed to close properly. And we talked about it when we got our fridge, the fully-loaded year-old one we hauled here all the way from New Mexico, out of storage only to find that it was too large for the space in our 1957-built kitchen! But every time we tried to shop for a new fridge, the timing was wrong; we couldn't agree on features or a budget, and ultimately came to the conclusion that as long as the old one worked, we'd be better off saving the money.

A couple of half-gallons of milk ago, nearly four years after moving into the house, Scott noticed that food was going bad before the expiration date, drinks weren't cold anymore, and the unit itself never stopped running (which he thinks contributed to a high electric bill). Leave it to the detail man; like the proverbial frog in the pot, I wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't pointed it out!

The timing was finally right (i.e., our hands were forced), but we still didn't agree on a replacement: an inexpensive base model to tide us over, or a nicer one to last? I didn't think our budget could take the hit (especially on the heels of Arrow's unexpected surgery). Then on the last stop in our hunt, everything fell into place. We found the exact model we had considered at the scratch-n-dent as a floor model clearance for $200 less--half off the original price! Scott got his ice maker and water dispenser, I got my top-mount freezer and stainless steel doors, and it's a KitchenAid--all for a price we expected to pay for a basic model. Looking back at how one thing led to another, I'm convinced everything happened in the order it needed to happen (even to the order we visited each store). I've never been so thrilled (and at peace, with myself and Scott) with a major purchase. The Hand of Providence!

Now, if only I liked grocery shopping...

Our deepest fear

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, "Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous?" Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.

Nelson Mandela

I remember when, in order to compliment someone, I would declare myself to be less able in that area than s/he was... or to receive a compliment from someone else, I would have to compliment them in return, or demure and say it was God... I know now that while God gave me ability, I am the one who has to act on it! So I've learned to say simply Thank You, and it is always enough.

I'm Back

Just returned this evening from the Southern Living At HOME national convention in Atlanta. I'm reeling... so much inflow, so much to process! A few highlights: Sandi Patty... Tom Barret... David Phelps... a new compensation plan that brings qualifications in line with target behaviors (really the first tumbler in the lock that made me consider committing the Year that Jerry asked us for)... Connie Ashburn and Lori Grimes revelation that 2.5 years (where I am) is the place where many feel they are working harder and earning less, and that this is the ONE-YARD LINE, and many give up before making the touchdown, which comes in years 3-5 (the second major tumbler to click in my head). Diane Mooney saying that when we ask someone to join us, we are really saying "I've got to get you into my life!" Loving on Brenda and Kelly, and being loved on by them--that connection all weekend was what I needed most, and made me feel most warm and alive. Discharge, lots of it, and not in any of the places I expected. A stunning note from Katie... wow, in one weekend, this is what she gets from me? Holy cow. Have not yet been able to fully receive it.

Steel

Feeling much better today...

Found out over the weekend that both Alleve Cold & Sinus and Nyquil contain the same active ingredient as Sudafed--the one that won't let me sleep! So in addition to being sick, I couldn't get any rest.

For our 11th anniversary Saturday, Scott gave me the traditional gift of steel in the form of a solid three-pound brick which he milled himself; every plane is exactly 90 degrees to its neighbors. It's a nice follow-up to last year's eight-ounce block of solid aluminum (the traditional 10th anniversary gift--who comes up with these things??). The year before he surprised me with two gigantic planting pots for the patio (the 9th anniversary is, you guessed it, pottery). I really enjoy his engineer-brand of creativity! So this year I jumped into his game, and gave him a set of steel tools he'd been after.

Since I wasn't feeling well, we decided to forgo the nice dinner out in favor of a dvd ("Hitch") and Chinese take-out (chicken soup, in my case). We also hooked up Xbox Live and installed the new Halo2 maps. He spent a lot of time with me (when I wasn't drugged or asleep) and I soaked up the attention.

The other night I had a chance to hook up with my brothers for a few games on Xbox Live. It's a totally different animal from playing split-screen with Scott! First of all, Scott and I are pretty evenly matched--Ron and Jeff are way out of our league. Secondly, no glimpses of my opponents screen to clue me in on their location. Lastly, a free-for-all between five players is a lot more confusing than a one-on-one! Needless to say, I got whipped. The guys took turns putting me on their teams, since I was an asset to no one!

Relativity

Integration = one life. It's amazing how everything is related. The last couple of weeks I've been in a low-energy slump (see previous posts). With Star Wars Weekends over and my vacation pieces completed, I decided to work on some repairs: an alteration, a broken zipper, a hem. I don't think I ever worked so slow in my life! Not only were the tasks themselves uninspiring (though educational), but they played right into my current struggle with "I can't get ahead"--they felt like tasks I would never finish! That day I actually packed up and left class early--I'm usually the last one to leave.

So last week in class I made a conscious decision to start something different and new. In one day, I nearly completed a new pair of capris-length pants in a fun, flowy print... AND found the energy to complete my repair jobs later in the week at home. Even in sewing, consciousness and intention made a difference!

Connection is everything

Every day I write a new post in my head, but somehow it never makes it to the computer screen. I'm probably waiting until I can write it perfectly... So, changing tracks here: this blog is no longer limited to Deep Thoughts. I'm going to write them anyway, but I'm giving myself permission to record anything I feel like writing on a given day without first evaluating it. After all, it's for me, isn't it? I'm guessing I'll have to remind myself frequently!

Today, the eve of my 11th wedding anniversary (16 years, 1 month with Scott)... feeling unfortunately crappy. Have either a bad summer cold or the beginnings of a lovely URI. And just as my energy was coming back (way to rub it in the "I CAN'T WIN" wound!)! The last three days have been my best in several weeks, during which (I finally realized) I've been in a sort of numb, mildly depressed state. Wednesday, far from being "hump day", was my highlight of the week--a full, active day from the minute I got out of bed at 8:30AM and didn't feel like getting back in, till I fell asleep without a book around midnight. A far cry from Tuesday only a week ago, when I woke up and clearly thought, "I have no reason to get up today." I attribute the difference to some hard work and good attention from group, friends, Scott, and complete strangers, including two Publix checkout clerks who noticed and remembered me! Connection is everything... I'm actually feeling better just writing about this!

One of my hardest tasks was to ask Scott to step up so that I could take a break. It's like I've been sliding down an uphill climb--can't win, can't get ahead, can't make a difference, don't matter. It feels good to have made a decision to REST. (Yes, I think I made a decision!) What that's going to look like in practice, guess I'm going to find out! I want to be clear on the difference between "resting" and "giving up"--for so many years they meant the same thing.

Did I say I wasn't going to write Deep Thoughts? I don't think so...!

There's always more laundry

No matter what i do, there's always going to be more laundry.

defeatedness. i just want to win, i want to matter, vs.. no matter what i do it doesn't make a difference.

woke up this morning with clear thought: i have no reason to get up today.

life is a series of disconnected activities--work, laundry, sewing, fun or not. they don't fit into a scheme, purpose, reason for being. it's not like i'm trying to be a good housewife, can't see how it fits into a larger picture of making a comfortable home or building a career.

containment is becoming an exercise, vs. real curiousity. it looks, smells, feels, sounds like containment, but it's exhausting instead of connecting.

truth can be fierce. "you may not feel safe, AND you are safe, so go for it".

Adventure on the 4th

Yesterday at church we recited the Pledge of Allegiance at all three services... and every time I started to cry. Almost didn't finish it the first service, and assumed it wouldn't affect me the next two...

Ended our 4th celebration today with a little adventure! We took the boat out to see what fireworks we could catch from the lake. Usually we can see the tops of the big shows from downtown, around the city and the sky-glow from the theme parks, as well as sometimes spectacular local stuff going up around the lake. Since the weather was clear today (first time in weeks!) and fire danger low (ha!), I guess people stockpiled fireworks, b/c it seemed especially noisy. So we decided to take Arrow with us.

Everything was great as we headed out--not too muggy, a breeze to keep bugs from gathering on the nav lights, and some fancy rockets already going up along the shore. Crossing into the northwest lake, we felt the first raindrops. A few minutes after we staked out our observation spot, we saw the rain marching across the lake. Assuming it would blow over, we huddled under the bimini and waited. Arrow got the dry spot, the driver's seat, where (for a wonder) she sat calmly. When the wind was in danger of blowing us into shore, Scott cranked up the engine and motored slowly away. We figured if we headed home at a sedate pace, we could stay reasonably dry and avoid rain sheeting under the bimini.

Then lightning flashed, and all bets were off! Scott pushed the motor with a little more urgency. With the next two lightning strikes (one which I thought I saw touch down), he revved it up and let it go! He got the worst of it; even though he had the rain jacket, he kept ducking around the windshield so he could see where he was going (he said later, amazing how little you can see without windshield wipers!). I had wrapped a large towel around my waist and another thrown over my head and shoulders; they and the jacket underneath got soaking wet, but kept my shirt mostly dry. I sat behind Scott with my back to the rain. Arrow was in the rear, and seemed perfectly content to rest her chin on the side of the boat, for all the world like hanging her head out the car window in a driving rain!

As we neared our cove, I could already see fireworks resuming (they all seemed extinguished when the rain started) on the south side of the lake. Strange. Then when we got home, we turned the t.v. on and the downtown fireworks were high and dry! Doppler showed a narrow squall line that just sprung up and hit us!

Scott rammed the boat up the shore and we all jumped out and ran for it. He went back after to tie it up. We looked like a pack of drowned rats. I was in the best shape and toweled Arrow off, and brought a dry one for Scott--he had to strip at the back door. What the f!!! he laughed. Next time we'll check the weather report!

I felt high and laughing, the most alive I've felt in days. So weird though that downtown, less then 10 minutes away was in the clear! Too bad the fireworks were uninspired. It's almost 11 now and there are stillrockets going off--guess everyone has to use them up now that it's stopped raining!

Who am I?

"I'm so glad I can stop pretending to be someone else, so I can go back to pretending I'm me again." -Luanne, King of the Hill

Perfect!

Choose

People don't really belong to each other, Joan, no matter what kind of contract they sign. They choose each other every day.
-God (as a school hall monitor) to Joan, Joan of Arcadia

Being Myself

Last Friday at Marcie's I confessed that my secret fear about why I'm so involved in costuming is that I really want to be someone else. This was, after all, true for a long time (like wishing I was a boy) and I still struggle with it. Sometimes, when I consider how much time I'm spending on costuming (and sewing in general), the thought scares me and I wonder if I am getting completely out of balance.

Anyway, she thought a moment and reframed it brillliantly for me: How about, you're expressing the different sides of yourself!

So in a way, I'm really being myself... I'll take it!

Idiosyncracy

I learned something astonishing over the weekend... Tagalog (the Phillipine national language) doesn't use genders! You have to get it from context, or specific references to male or female persons. I was asking Mom to translate something when she explained this to me. "That's why we have so much trouble with 'she' and 'he'," she said.

Gramma had more trouble than Mom, and in my mind's eye I saw myself correcting her as she shook her head, annoyed at herself. I'd heard stories of what a sharp businesswoman she was in the Phillipines, seen photos of her successful shop, knew she'd been in political inner circles, but could never reconcile these things with the image of my perpetually befuddled grandmother. I knew her to be stubborn at best, manipulative at worst, and very proud. Granpapa made fun of her English, which made all of us kids angry, only his English was worse.

Suddenly a dozen tumblers in my head clicked into place and triggered a cascade of emotional reactions. In 34-1/2 years, why had I never known this? It was simultaneously eye-opening and confusing. Part of me saw my grandmother in a curious new light, while another part struggled with some feeling of betrayal, and another grieved for all these years laboring under misconception. Right now, I'm amazed and confused at the depth of my reaction at the simple discovery of an idiosyncracy in my mother's native tongue. It might not have made much of a difference, but I can't help feeling it would have made some difference.

And now, all of a sudden, I want to learn this language. I always wanted my future children to learn it, never hoping that I could even begin to decipher it at my age even if I had the dedication. I'm remembering, ironically, how much difficulty I have remembering the difference between two simple greetings (much less adapting to a system laden with gender pronouns!). But even a few words and phrases will be enough.

Expectations

Joyce Meyer today, on why couples can get bitter: dashed expectations.

Your spouse doesn't meet your expectations. The problem is, half the time they don't know you're expecting it! So either (a) learn to communicate your needs, because spouses aren't mind-readers; or (b) what you want is not a need you can expect them to meet, such as "make me happy".

This is why we have to give each other the road map to what we need. But after spending a lifetime ignoring our own needs, they are so difficult to name!

Downshifting

Conflict is growth trying to happen. The last few weeks (months?) we've been hitting the same wall over and over, painting the target for where we need to grow next. We're ready for a shift in our relationship, to the next level. But change is never comfortable and so we have creatively invented new and subtle ways to preserve the status quo.

For my part, I used to know how to handle this particular conflict, which I did quite successfully. But lately I just feel frustrated, drained, and tired. Denied the momentary satisfaction of my old pattern (getting the last biting word, leaving the room), but too exhausted to take genuinely loving actions instead, I've created an escape. I go to a neutral place, where physically I remain but emotionally I go flat, neither angry nor loving, creating for Scott the illusion of connection and for myself an alternative to the high road.

I'd noticed this change, but not been able to name it until we discussed a homework assignment in group. Then I realized, it's as wrong as the old pattern was, which made me feel even more frustrated and tired. And what's wrong is not just the way I'm enabling Scott, but how I'm abandoning myself in the process. (It's true... you really are just hurting yourself.)

A friend said, feeling drained and exhausted usually precedes the paradigm shift for him; and so for this reason he was glad and encouraged me. Listening to him, I got an image of myself downshifting to go to the next gear, of gathering myself for the change, instead of giving up from exhaustion.

Now whether I'll be able to follow through remains to be seen. The actions I need to take cause me nearly as much anxiety and guilt as the relief I know they will bring. But I know the only way out is through. And if I fail, well, that's why there's grace, and safe people to help me try again.

Ebullience

I'm costuming again. I feel so creative, powerful. Experimenting, problem-solving, getting inspired, figuring things out as I go. It's a heady feeling, discovering I am capable (like I felt wielding the air gun on the re-upholstered chair). But there's more. An ebullience, a lightness, lifting, excitement, anticipation... joy? Giddy, giggly in an I-can't-wait sort of way; it's going to look really good! But as always when I notice it, I am already trying to quell it, press it back down to flat neutrality. Why am I not allowed to feel excitement, anticipation? It's like when I first surfaced from depression and recognized a feeling I had not had in years... optimism. It feels like this. The obvious answer would be a recording like "don't get your hopes up". Don't we all know that one! But this--ebullience--I want to feel!

Contradiction

Contradiction: correct information which gives the opposite information from the wound, and is the truth.

This afternoon Scott took a break from his work on the roof to help me reupholster a chair. The follow-through of attention, which he'd agreed to give me when I asked a couple of days ago, was healing enough; but the biggest impact came from another, unexpected contradiction.

We disassembled the chair, pried off dozens of staples holding the old fabric in place, and peeled it off to use as a template. I was going inside to cut the necessary pieces of new upholstery and asked Scott if he was coming to help. He had already turned his attention back to the roof, so I expected to be denied; had in fact already steeled myself for the disappointment. He turned, paused a moment as if considering, and replied, "No, you've got it." His tone was casual, almost cheerful, and conveyed complete confidence in my ability to handle the task.

My mouth was already open to automatically ask, wheedle, protest that I wanted him to help me, but the words were literally snuffed in the back of my throat. A stunned moment of confusion, disorientation; inside I reeled, trying to process this information. This did not compute with the emotional and verbal response I'd prepared. Instead of feeling abandoned, I felt unexpected pleasure. He'd just imparted to me the knowledge that I was absolutely capable of doing this myself, and I knew he was right. I actually wanted to do it myself! Marveling, all I could say--all I needed to say--was, "thank you!"

He came in once and asked how it was going, and I knew I had it under control. I'm still wondering over the whole thing: surprise at his uncharacteristic response, but mostly chagrin over how easily my pattern came to the fore (I didn't even know my mouth was open until I realized the automatic reply didn't fit!), and gratefulness that I had the space in which to catch it and receive the gift Scott gave me.

Another gem

Anything worth doing is worth doing badly at first!

You gotta stand for something or you'll fall for everything

You gotta stand for something or you'll fall for everything.

Last night I attended a training meeting with our national sales director. Jerry shared a few things I expected, a lot that made sense, and a few things that surprised and impressed me. Quite a bit was therapeutic, wisdom that rang true for me because I have been learning it in group and at home for three years now. Yet with all my "expeience" I still forget it applies in all areas of my life!

Decisions we make determine the direction we take. The direction we take determines our destiny.

Like... Decisions come from the way we think. Wrong thinking [recordings] doesn't serve us. There is a constant conversation going on inside each of us; we talk ourselves into things, good and bad, all the time. All or nothing thinking. [Paying attention to what's missing vs. what's here.]

If the eyes are the pathway to the soul, then lanuguage is the pathway to how people think. You can know where people stand by the language they use.

How long since I caught myself using an absolute?

Learn to ask questions, have a genuine interest in others. Isn't that being present and getting really curious? I've considered this before: attend my shows in containment (setting aside my fear and what's going on for me), be present with the people who are there, connect. I thought: this is healing... I can offer a little healing attention to each person, no matter how brief. Jerry says direct sales is a "heart" business (vs. sales, which is head games); the only way to get what you want is to serve others in relationship.

Two things helped me the most:

(1) Although he challenged us to do what's right instead of doing it our own way ("put your ego in your back pocket and sit on it"), he kept emphasizing that we need to do it the way that works for us. Define my own success; don't let other people fill my cup with their dreams; use words that work for me; place elements of the presentation in places that work for me; read or listen to the people who speak to me. Only I am uniquely me, and I'm at my best when I'm being myself.

And the corollary:

(2) Decide whether my business is a "big rock", a priority. If it is, look at what's getting in my way of treating it like one. If it's not, either quit or intentionally reduce my activity so I can attend to my happiness instead of my guilt!

The Next Useful Thing

This morning I'm paging through my new Close to My Heart catalog and feeling inspired to break out the scrapbooks and card-making supplies (currently gathering dust in their handy storage drawers). It reminds me of when I first started sewing...

Whenever I get involved in a new activity, it's easy for me to get excited and caught up in collecting all the "necessary" tools, accessories, etc. It starts out innocently enough--I create a simple project using the most basic equipment, find it fun or fascinating, and decide I want to do more. But then I get stuck because it's got to be perfect: I'll just wait until I have one more tool, take one more class, find the perfect materials. Or pick the "right" project... I can't decide what to do next! When I first started sewing, I shared this with a friend who suggested simply, "do the next useful thing."

That very evening Scott walked through the door and said, "I have an interesting challenge for you..." He wanted to adapt a store-bought seat pad to fit in his new truck. Bells went off in my head--could this be The Next Useful Thing?! (See what I mean, about the universe using every possible venue to get my attention?) It involved removing the binding, cutting the pad to size, and replacing the binding. Together we measured, cut, and sewed. It wasn't glamorous; we did it with ruler, marker, scissors and the straight stitch on my 30-year old Kenmore hand-me-down machine. But in its own way it was creative. It worked so well we made another for the passenger seat.

A couple of weeks ago we stood in the middle of the Dockers outlet store, frustrated by the lack of choices in Scott's size. He's between two waist sizes, which when you add that he is also between lengths, makes it difficult to find slacks in colors he likes! After stepping out of the fitting room wearing another too-long pair, he looked up suddenly and asked, "can you shorten these?" I was dumbstruck. After spending the last year learning to make entire outfits, why hadn't I thought of taking up a hem?? This was The Next Useful Thing.

Yesterday I finished hemming the third and final pair of Scott's new slacks. Somehow this brings me immense satisfaction. My handiwork benefits the person I love the most; Scott's everyday world is made just a little bit better by this small service. Sometimes I think he doesn't notice or value my activities or skills. But then he asks me to do something, something important to him, that demonstrates his confidence in me. The rest is gravy.

Think I'll go see if he'd like some breakfast... :)

Trixie's Insight

Today's Hi & Lois strip:

[Source: Seattle Post-Intelligencer: Hi and Lois]

Unbelievable! It seems that when I'm ready to deal with something, it uses every possible venue to get in my face! It's probably more accurate to say that as the next challenge surfaces, I become conscious of "clues" that are always present but that I have never noticed in that particular way. The last couple of weeks have been about women: my inability to trust them, get close to them, and "fit in" (not even wanting to). Everything from the topic I chose to complete a process in group, to my experience at a home show, to a chance email from the men's game night gang, even the clothes I've been picking out lately have all pointed in the same direction. What I get from this comic is, it's not just me... Marcie says to start looking at the ways women are wounded and really having empathy for them. Even the comic strip baby gets it!

No Comment

This week, I finally gave someone the URLs to my blogs. Was I ready? I don't know. Good friend that she is, she had the insight to ask whether I wanted a response. Wow, I instant-messaged back, let me think about that and get back to you. Over the next 24 hours I realized that the part of me that is desperate for approval wants lots of feedback and comments that will make me feel good. And it's the part of me that is afraid of being judged and criticized that has kept me from giving out the URLs in the the first place (of these blogs, and the aborted attempt at one 18 months ago. That one I wound up keeping on my local drive as a personal journal!). So I have two recordings to replace: the one that says my voice is worthless (no one is listening, anyway), and the one that says it's only as good as others say it is (well, maybe those are the same recording). Add to the mix what if I'm wrong and it has to be perfect, and you have me paralyzed in fear. The patterns to push against are constantly seeking approval (what do you think?), and hiding my work altogether to avoid disapproval. Even writing now, you better believe I am watching my grammar and carefully screening my choice of words (isn't the point of a blog not to worry about that stuff? my friend asked)--a subtle piece of the pattern that will be hard to unwork.

So here is what I need: To be thanked and appreciated for sharing my thoughts. I don't need evaluation (good or bad) or advice (good or bad--heh!). At least not yet. Just a safe space and the knowledge that it is okay to speak, even perhaps that my voice is welcome. When that is settled in me, I'll be able to engage in more discussion.

The Illusion of Control

In an earlier post ("Just Do It"), I quoted Cloud & Townsend (demanding authority figures "probably also have something to lose (such as control over you)...") and wrote about how we tell others what they are doing wrong and to try harder. I figured there was some kind of co-dependence involved, that our response has to do with not wanting to feel the way we do when we're around them; perhaps our own vulnerability, or recognizing the same sin in ourselves. Got some new insight yesterday: when we try to control (protect, rescue) others, what we don't want to feel is our own powerlessness.

Time Enough

Channel surfing tonight while getting my lymphedema wraps on, and came across the Miss USA pageant just as the outgoing Miss USA was taking her final walk. Her recorded comments started out as the usual sentimental tripe, so her final remark caught me off-guard and unexpectedly brought tears to my eyes:

"...I am again reminded of the butterfly, who has not months, but moments; and has time enough."

Not sure what the touchstone was. Wonder if she was quoting someone; if you recognize it, let me know!

Just Do It

Today's "crazymaker" (12 "Christian" Beliefs That Can Drive You Crazy) is: Just doing the right thing is more important than why I do it.

This is the assumption that God looks at our actions more than our motives and internal spiritual state (p.177), that he wants obedience for obedience's sake (p.181). But this attitude helps people avoid personal responsibility and follow-through, which is what the Bible really values (p.178). Cloud & Townsend define obedience as a "structure to train us in maturity, not an end in itself" (p.181).

Following God's commands always has a purpose (p.181).

My startling "a-ha" came reading quotes from Deuteronomy, such as: "The Lord commanded us to obey all these decress and to fear the Lord our God, so that we might always prosper and be kept alive" (6:24). I had always believed that these verses meant that prosperity and life were a reward for obedience. You obey, you get a good life. Which of course is confusing when it doesn't seem to come true (what am I doing wrong?). This morning I realized that God gives us these things so that we will grow (p.181), not because he's some kind of control freak. Prosperity and life are then the natural result of growth. (Aside: whenever I read about "life" or being "alive" in the Bible, I read with a different understanding of what it means to LIVE, based on the work that I've done, and that gives a whole new, more significant meaning to the passage than I learned growing up).

The chapter goes on to explain six problems with the "just do it" assumption: it substitutes sacrifice for true obedience; ignores the wholeness or integrity of a person; discourages a sense of responsibility (for our true feelings); promotes lying (you can't heal what you can't own); denies our fallenness (we can't do it alone); and devalues the power of the cross in our lives (grace) (p.182-191).

Just do it; don't ask why.
I gave up trying to talk to other Christians long ago because most of them seemed threatened by my questions. They tried to steer me in the right direction with advice like "just have faith" and "give it to God" or offering to pray for me. I've been blessed to encounter four deeply spiritual (and Christian) individuals who welcomed--even celebrated--my struggle, who taught me that I can ask because I believe, and never sent me away with pat answers (or any answers, come to think of it; just more things to look at!). Cloud & Townsend say "asking why allows us to work together with God" (Phil. 2:12-13), and that "God himself asks us 'Why?' to make us think"(p.186-187).

Beware of authority figures who demand instant, unquestioned obedience. Not only do they not represent the character of God, but they probably also have something to lose (such as control over you) by your having information (p.187).

I still struggle with church because I feel like it is the place where we should receive the most grace, and see the least. I know I shouldn't hold them to a higher standard than any other humans, because they are just human. So ironically, I am least gracious towards the church as a body (I'm learning to see individuals)! This is also my problem with "accountability", incorrectly applied. When people fail, we just tell them to try harder. We want to tell them what they did wrong, exhort them to go out and do it right, but not show them how. And I'm including myself. Instead we need to extend grace, acceptance, love, and seek to understand "what gets in your way?" so that we can truly serve each other and help each other grow. But we can't extend to others what we can't receive ourselves. And that's the hopeless cycle at church. Maybe I'm being unfair, maybe it's just not visible at my level of involvement. I'm obviously still working on this one.

The Safety Net Called Grace (p.190):

1. You try.
2. You fail.
3. You receive grace and forgiveness.
4. You suffer consequences.
5. You learn from the consequences.
6. You try.
7. You do a little better.
8. You fail.

When we know that we won't be condemned when we fail, we grow faster... Grace protects us from loss of love as we mature through trying and failing (p.191).

I know I won't be perfect until after this life is over, so I'm off the hook! (And because I'm off the hook, I can let others off the hook. That's my work, cut out for me...)

The Process

So I've been working on Scott's doublet (a sewing project--see Sew*journ). When I had enough of it assembled that it began to look like a proper piece of clothing, I slipped it on to see how it was coming together. The laughter and excitement that welled up inside me when I caught my first glimpse in the mirror so surprised me that I squealed like a delighted little girl. I've been just as happy at each step completed since then. There have been momentary disappointments where I have had to pick out stitches or re-do pieces; but instead of becoming frustrated and slogging through the correction, I found myself noticing what I had done, stepping back, looking at it like a puzzle and devising solutions with which I was ultimately pleased. A far cry from how I reacted only a year ago!

What is it about this activity (sewing) that I love so much? There is a creative element in choosing the patterns and fabrics, and the challenge of putting it all together; an element of risk as I plunge in uncertain of how this or that will turn out (faith?). But otherwise it seems so against type for me. The actual process is about precision, repetition: pin the seam, sew the seam, press as sewn, press it open, press in the direction it will ultimately lie, serge if the edge needs to be finished, edgestitch, topstitch. Repeat for the next seam. I'm usually working alone. I could cheat but there's a satisfaction in doing it well. I should find the whole affair tedious and draining. But instead the hours fly by unnoticed as I get lost in the activity of the moment. I'm surprised to feel my stomach growling so soon, to pick up the ringing phone and hear Scott say he is on his way home from work. Already??

A couple of weeks ago I dragged myself away from my sewing room to make banana nut bread (before the bananas turned completely black!). My first surprise was finding that I still had chocolate chips in the pantry. My second was discovering how much joy I experienced just measuring out the flour! I felt like singing. Always before, measuring and mixing were just things I had to do in order to get what I wanted--a loaf of chocolate chip banana nut bread. What was different about this time?

I wondered if perhaps this joy came from the nature of the activities. If I spend a few minutes mixing ingredients, in a little while I have something to eat. If I spend a few days sewing, in a little while I have something to wear. Whereas at work, I can't connect an activity like a simple phone call directly to its ultimate result. It goes something like: make a phone call, maybe reach someone, have a conversation, maybe schedule a show, prepare for the show, hold it, follow-up, earn money, use it to buy food or clothing. Too many "middle-men".

I shared this with my brother, who gave me the analogy of a fisherman taking his catch home the same day vs. a farmer waiting months for the harvest; and a friend, who suggested that perhaps it was as simple as the fact that I truly enjoy the process. Shortly after I started sewing regularly, I learned that if I focussed on meeting the deadline or keeping up with the class, I often wound up frustrated and disappointed. So I might as well take my time and enjoy the process... all of it. The end goal is still a product, but the joy and the learning carry just as much value.