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!