Barnmaven

Better than Who?

  
 

There are social norms we all live by, or which I assume we all live by.  Maybe its because I'm the daughter of a bullshitter that I simply expect that if I'm friendly to you, you'll be friendly back.  There's always a conversation to be enjoyed with people, both new acquaintances and people you've known forever. 

My parents love to enjoy meals and cocktail hour with their friends and neighbors, and whenever I'm spending time at their home, if someone drops by, we all sit and visit.  I consider their friends to be my friends, and their friends' children to be my friends by osmosis.  Its a lot of fun to go visit them at their winter home in Arizona, because they have a great collection of neighbors from all over down there.  If their kids are visiting too, cocktail hour spills out of the living room and out into the street, and its a wonderful cacophony of voices lifted in happy conversation. 

Now, when I called my dad a bullshitter above,  I don't mean in the sense that he lies to people or in the standard definition of the term.  "Bullshitter" is a term I've heard Dad use all my life to describe someone who can talk the paint off the barn, who always has a funny story at the ready, who is naturally gregarious and ready with a firm handshake and a joke to make you laugh.  A bullshitter in the lingo of my Dad is someone who will "stop by for a few minutes" and several hours (and cocktails) later, you're still laughing and talking and saying Oh, did I ever tell you about the time...

Dad says that I'm a bullshitter too, and I guess sometimes I can be.   Although I am not a big fan of crowds, I like small groups and there's not too many people I can't start a conversation with. 

Being raised by a bullshitter and by parents who are fond of social interaction, it naturally followsthat in my world, if I go to someone's home as the significant other of the offspring of one of their very good friends, that my expectation is that we are going to enjoy one another socially, swap stories, eat and drink together and generally have a good time as a group. 

Imagine my suprise, then, at a big gathering at the home of long-time friends of SG's parents, when NOT ONE of their adult children (or their spouses) even said hello to me or to him or to his sister.  Not only would they not speak to us, they wouldn't even LOOK at us. 

It was like we weren't even there.  They were friendly and laughing with their own friends who were present, and maybe a bit with their parents, but my guy and my children and I and anyone else there who wasn't part of their clique?  Were flat ignored.

Maybe its because they have money and they think that makes them different or special, but I've met plenty of people who have money who are so completely enjoyable and unaffected that I'm not sure it can all be chalked up to that single factor.

If having money makes you act like a spoiled, entitled ass, I'll happily stay poor the rest of my life.  Its not that I'm all sad and butt-hurt that they ignored me.  Whatever, they're the ones missing out so far as I'm concerned.  I will say this, though -- if I were at my parents home with a gathering of friends and their families and I treated any one person the way we were treated by these elitist jerks, I guarantee you my folks would have words with me.  Serious words. 

I don't care how much money you have, how much power you have, how blonde you are, how skinny you are, where you get your nails done and whether you drive an Escalade.  None of that means squat.  In the beginning we arrive with nothing and when we leave this world, nothing is what we will take with us.  Its the people that we leave behind and their memories of us that are our legacy.  Its the things we do while we are here that impact others, both good and bad that are the mark we make.  I realize there are people who believe that the more wealthy or famous they are then the more important and better they are.  And of course, they're entitled to believe whatever they wish.  I'm just here to say, you're not better than the rest of us.  Even if you happen to think you are.

On being right

Who doesn't like being right?  Raise your hand.  Right now.  I want to know if there is anyone out there who doesn't like to be right. 

Right.

Because we all want to be right.  It starts young.  My children already have fights to the death over the most inane topics, all because one of them wants to be right and thereby prove that ergo,the other one is WRONG.  Sadly, the one-upmanship very often persists long past its usefulness. 

I know people who are perfectly OK being wrong about some things, but with most people, if you try hard enough you'll find at least ONE subject where they will doggedly persist in the correctness of their position even in the odds of overwhelming evidence to the contrary.

Its a fascinating concept, this battle over who's right and who's wrong.  There are a billion things that are matters of fact and record, which makes it easy to identify the winner in many of these wrestling matches of certitude.  But when it comes to people and emotions and situations, when perception is the only player in the game, all concrete wisdom flies straight out the window.  Absent of the ability to actually read another person's thoughts, we must rely on a different set of tools. 

I've noticed that the more time passes, the more I am willing to suspend judgment of intent.  But I'll own right up to the fact that this is not always the case.  Its a crazy-making thing, isn't it?   Someone does something that has a negative impact or connotation to you.   They forget to invite you to a meeting or a social event.  They acquire something that you intended to buy or apply for the promotion you were trying to get.   You make a pact or agreement with them and it turns out they can't (or won't) hold up their end of it. 

What's your first assumption going to be?

They did it on purpose. 

She KNEW I wanted that promotion and the only reason she applied for it was to spite me.  He lied to me on purpose.  They only got that expensive thing-a-ma-jig so they could make their friends feel jealous.

But we all know its not that simple.

Have you ever been cheated on in a relationship?  I have.  It sucks, doesn't it?  I mean really, down to the bone, hurts like a someone's taken a motherfucking buzzsaw to your heart.  And when you first find out, after your heart stops trying to jump out of your chest and you very carefully put down the baseball bat you found yourself carrying as you were marching up the sidewalk, the first thought in your mind is "How could s/he DO THIS TO ME?"  As if the indiscretion actually had anything to do with you at all in the first place.  Well, maybe it did, and maybe it didn't.  In my experience, infidelity seems linked more to a problem with the perpetrator.  Unless its a revenge thing, most people who cheat seem driven to do so by reasons they don't even understand.  They're not thinking about you.  In fact, they're working so hard to maintain denial about the moral slippery slope they're falling down, they try very hard not to think of you AT ALL.  Infidelity is a selfish and self-serving act, and has little to do with whether someone really loves you or not. 

Divorce is a situation where pain is unavoidable.  Its simply not possible to take any step of any sort without causing pain to your former spouse.  Intention to hurt may or may not exist -- but hurt is done, and the more hurt there is, the more bitter and angry people become.  I'm in the middle of it now, and there's so much I'd like to say and can't, but I can promise you that it is painful, that it is bitter, that it is angry.  It is a wandering line of suck that at times is unbearable and at other times thins to the point of being barely tolerable.    I hurt him, he hurts me.  I do something, he believes I'm only doing it to hurt him, he does something, I believe he's only doing it to hurt me.  Maybe I am and maybe I'm not.  Maybe he is and maybe he isn't.  There's really no way to know who's right.  I can judge by past history and the knowledge of a person that years together bring me, but I can't read his mind, nor can he mine.

All I can do is my best to be authentic and to do the right thing and not get sucked into bitter and angry.  All I can do is try to remind myself that it might seem as though things are said or done with ill intent, maybe they're not.  And all I can do is protect myself and my family and remember that even though things are bad, they could be so much worse.  Remember that there is a history here, that even though I feel like I'm experiencing death by a thousand paper cuts, that it won't last forever.  That I can swallow my bitterness and pain and focus on the things in life that are good and real and positive -- my kids tumbling up the sidewalk, coming home from time with dad to now spend a week with me; dinner and wine on a warm evening with good friends; strong arms of love that hold and support me when I need them; the love and support of family and friends; a bevy of wagging tails and horrid doggy breath waiting at the door for me; a long ride on a beautiful horse with a good friend. 

You may think I do this or that simply to hurt you, but if you really believe that, you'd be wrong.

Words

They have so much power.

We can use them deliberately or carelessly.  We can choose to be aware of their impact, use them with intent -  to comfort, reassure, or even to hurt and destroy. 

I'm as guilty as the next person.  Sarcasm comes as naturally to me as blinking. I've been told, much to my chagrin, that sarcasm can be abusive when employed as a means of communicating with your partner.  I look back at countless interactions with my ex and think of the times that I allowed myself to carelessly hurt him with my words, not necessarily deliberately, but simply because I didn't pay attention to what I said and how I said it.  When we have been with someone a long time, when we know their strengths and their weaknesses, their hurts, their fears, their hopes and dreams, it is beyond easy to hurt them with our careless words.  I think of times when I used hurtful words in place of talking about my feelings, assuming that striking out was the only way to be heard.  It doesn't matter what your history is; it doesn't even really matter why I'm not good at expressing my feelings or talking about my needs.  What does matter is that the way I approached things not only guaranteed I wouldn't get my needs met, but that I would hurt someone else in the process.

I'm working consciously at being responsible for my words.  Talking to my children instead of issuing orders, giving them words to help illuminate understanding as an alternative to simply getting them to do what I ask without helping them know why.  Asking for what I want in my relationship, but not in a way that implies or assumes I won't get it.  Asking with respect and careful intent. 

A couple of days ago, SG, with my very capable assistance, delivered a load of furniture and household goods to his ex.  He did this at his own expense, because he's just that kind of a good guy.  After two days and 750 miles, I was looking forward, if a little apprehensively, to meeting someone who was an important part of his life.  I was not prepared, though, for the amount of effort it would take for me to bite my tongue for the better part of two hours as the little barbs were continually aimed and set loose. 

"She doesn't mean it."

"Its just the way she is."

"She's joking."

No, she's not joking.  Yes, she does mean it.  And no, its not acceptable.

Their relationship is not my business.  Creating further conflict between them is not something I have any desire or right to do.  But sitting back and simply allowing someone I care deeply about to be verbally trashed in front of me is also something I cannot stomach.  I chose my words carefully.  I am certain she didn't appreciate what I said, but that's not my concern.  I know for certain that S appreciated what I said, and for at least the rest of my stint as day laborer moving another woman's furniture, no more stinging sarcasm was directed at him.

We need to be more careful about how we talk to people.  I watch the level of public discourse slide inexorably into the sewers.  I see a political climate where politicians and pundits no longer debate the issues, they take verbal body shots at their opponents.  I see it in interpersonal relationships, at work and at home, where people take another person's regard, friendship, or love so much for granted that they no longer take any care to consider the words they use and what they mean.

There is always room for camaraderie and joking.  Sarcasm can be really funny - but we need to be careful that we are not using sarcasm to deflect real communication with our partner.  If we have an issue, a resentment, a problem, we need to deal with that in an honest and loving way.   Using backhanded humor isn't a very good way of solving a problem, and in my experience, people stop really hearing you when you abuse them with your words. 

Apropos of nothing, I'm returning home tomorrow from a very lovely drive up the 101 with a most agreeable traveling companion.

In 2007 John Shore posted a blog piece entitled Six Tests to Determine if He's Mr. Right.  In the last six months, we've covered pretty much every one of these with the exception of test #2:  Go on a cross-country drive with him.  We return home tomorrow from taking a leisurely drive up the California and Oregon coastlines, and I can say without hesitation, we've passed with flying colors. 

 

When and why

My mom usually hands me a stack of magazines whenever I stop by.  There's always some article or the other that she thinks I'll find interesting.  Usually she hands me the Atlantic Monthly, Redbook, Good Housekeeping, that sort of thing.  When I stopped by to chitchat after choir practice on Wednesday, though she gave me the May/June copy of AARP. 

She knew I would find this confusing, so she quickly pointed out the cover photo and article - a piece on Amy Grant and Vince Gill.  Oooh, thanks mom!

I became an instant fan of Amy Grant when i was a sophomore in college.  Somebody had a tape of The Collection (remember tapes!  And having a Walkman!  Damn, I'm old) and she hooked me from the start.  Its not that she had this amazing vocal range or these deep and twisty lyrics, or even that she looked like this glamorous superstar.  It was all of the opposite that drew me - her voice was lovely and just this side of untrained, her lyrics were simple and down to earth and so was she.   There has always been an emotional framework in the songs she performs that says "I have the same challenges and fears and joys that you do, let me sing to you about them." 

It wasn't necessarily as a Christian artist that she appealed to me.  It was just her and the way that she sang.  It wasn't just that she sang Jesus songs - she did, sure, but she also sang songs about life and about feeling insecure and lonely and silly and happy.  I could relate.

I was lucky enough over the years to see her in concert a few times, and she's one of those artists who sounds just the same live as she does on her albums.  I thinks she's been lucky to work with some really smart producers who wisely chose not to overprocess her voice and just let who she really is shine through her work.

Maybe her crossover pop was a little sugary and sweet, but I think there's a place in this world for music that speaks to the simple things of love and family and all the connections innate to being a woman - daughter, sister, partner, parent.  In her music and in her interviews I always took away the feeling that she truly loved people just as they were, no matter who they were, and accepted them exactly where they are.  Of course, the enormous amount of money and talent and time she has given to charity over the years speaks volumes to her deep compassion for others.

When Amy and Gary split in 1998 I was also going through a divorce.  When she married Vince(with whom it was clear to anyone with eyeballs that saw the "making of" House of Love video she was deeply in love), I was also marrying my second husband.  When she was pregnant with Corrina, I was pregnant with my daughter.  I, too had endured the shaming and blaming that happens when marriages end and had left a church because of it; I empathized deeply with what it must have felt like for her to have that scrutiny amplified infinitely, a Christian artist getting divorced in front of the prying eyes of the world. 

I loved the article and the interview. I'm truly happy that Amy and Vince are still together, still in love.  Its hard, I know this, when you marry a person and you intend it to be forever and things go wrong and you realize at some point that its not going to work. Its wonderful when you find the person with whom you have a deep, loving and spiritual connection, who accepts you where you are and loves you unconditionally.

After I finished reading the article I thought about so much of what had been written about Amy and Vince and their respective first marriages/divorces.  As I often do when something crosses my mind, I hit my search engine and Googled a few articles.

I came across an article by Wendy Zoba written back in 2000 for Christianity Today.  The entire tone of the article was at best dubious about whether Amy had done the right thing by divorcing Gary Chapman.  Zoba wrote:

"Anyone who has persevered in marriage will attest that in deed there are moments of "enjoying to the fullest," but that often attends many tedious, sometimes painful, stretches. The best premarital advice I received came from our pastor's wife: "There are going to be times when you'll hate each other's guts." Those moments have been few and far between, but when they have occurred, my husband and I recognized this was normal and would pass."

This is just so offensive to me.

Not that Zoba and her husband are fortunate enough to have the kind of marriage where the rocky times are few and far between.  Not..not at all that.  What chokes me is the assumption that she makes that Amy and Gary's relationship was just like hers.

Now, I don't know that it was or wasn't.  But neither does Wendy Zoba.  Neither does any other person who has pointed a judgmental finger at someone else for getting a divorce.

If two people are so fortunate as to have a marriage where the times they "hate each other's guts" are few and far between and that they mutually recognized that the bad time would pass, then of course I wouldn't expect to see them tripping over each other's feet in the race to find a divorce attorney.

But comparing her own relationship to the relationship between Amy and Gary, which by many accounts was troubled for years, or to the relationship of anyone who has sought a divorce for entirely legitimate reasons, if this is the basis on which she's concluding that people ought to stay together, no matter what, then I cry "foul."

I know a lot of people feel like marriage is supposed to be forever, that you're supposed to stick it out for eternity except in cases of infidelity or abuse.  But I simply can't accept that as the case.

A marriage - or any sort of love partnership for that matter - is supposed to be a bond where the people in the relationship are both bettered by being with their partner more of the time than they are not.  Every relationship, even those where a couple is starry-eyed smitten after years and years together, still has its rocky times.  I've never personally met anyone who has been with their partner for a number of years who has never had a disagreement.  But those couples, even though they've had a fight here and there, or even overcome a very serious issue, the relationship they shared contained more positive than negative, more good than bad, more light than dark. 

But what happens when that's not the case?  Is it really correct to tell people whose relationship brings them nothing but heartache and anger that they must stay married, no matter what?  Can any therapist or minister truly counsel a couple who have spent years fighting, pulling each other down, whose love styles and personalities, beliefs or opinions are truly antithetical that they must stay together?   What good does that do for anyone? 

While other people might have opinions about why my marriage ended, only my ex and I know the whole truth of it.  We were the ones living it, struggling with it day by day. 

Its not that I don't think marriage is important or not to be taken seriously.  Of course it is. But I think people need to be careful when making assumptions about what goes on behind the closed doors of other peoples' lives.  Don't be so hasty to judge.  Most people don't tell you the whole truth, we are taught from early on not to tell the family secrets, to minimize things, to keep what is private, private.  I have been surprised many times by finding out someone was being physically abused or that someone was being cheated on, or even that people who seemed really happy whenever they were around friends and family actually had screaming fights constantly when they were home alone together. The announcement of their divorce was shocking, because nobody knew there was anything wrong.

Ultimately, I don't think its healthy for anyone to stay in a relationship that makes them miserable.  There is no growth in that, there is nothing about it that makes you a better human being, a better parent, or closer to God.  Sometimes the best that can be done is to accept that something is not working and do your best to carefully pick up the pieces and go forward, toward a happier future.

Our bleeding hearts

My parents would gently admonish me.  Friends would roll their eyes.  Boyfriends (and later, husbands) would think at first that it was sweet, cute, but eventually they, too, would just sigh and shake their heads.

It could be a dead cat on the side of the highway.  A goose with a broken wing, or one that had lost her mate (they mate for life, you know).  A dog stranded in the middle of the road near the concrete divider.  A racehorse who shattered her leg in the final hundred yards of the race and had to be euthanized on the spot.  Anything.

My heart would crack wide open, the tears would come.  I would imagine their pain, their fear, their suffering, and suffer right along with them. 

The older I get, the more I learn that not everyone loves them the way that I do, that tragedy and loss are a part of life, that we can't fix everyone's suffering.  At least, I pretend to learn these valuable lessons, but secretly, deep inside, I go on grieving those souls.  Animals cannot speak to us in words, but our pets,they give us the best that they have, they love us unconditionally.  Animals in the wild live purely and without guile; they don't know how to be anything but exactly what they are.  They are beautiful beyond words, beyond breath.

My daughter, she has this bleeding heart too.

Picking her up at the aftercare place the other day, I find her tear-streaked and sad-eyed.

"What happened, baby?"

"The other kids were laughing at me.  They were horrible."

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart.  What were they saying to you?"

"Well, there was this CAT, mom and it only had three legs.  And it was kind of hopping along, and it was just so sad that I cried."

My heart cracks in two right along with her.  "Oh, baby."

"The other kids all laughed at me and they were teasing me.  They were saying horrible things like about a dog that got hit by a car and another dog that broke its leg.  One kid was telling me about shooting squirrels.  Shooting them!"

I hate their cruelty.  Not just to my daughter, but that they could be so callous about the pain of a living creature.

 

Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,

And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts.

For they have their own thoughts.               

             ~Khalil Gibran, The Prophet

 

Yes, she has her own thoughts, her own heart.  

 

A bleeding heart, just like her mama. 

Fluid

Its so easy when things are good to think "they'll always be this way."  When they're bad, sometimes we think the same, though the more optimistic among us may think "it will get better."  All I know is, enjoy where you are because somewhere along the line, something will change the equation.

I've probably said this same thing in about twenty different ways on this blog.  Its one of those essential truths that I keep turning around to find myself facing.  Change. Fluidity.  Nothing stays the same.

I want to believe that all change is good.  That even when things happen that seem unfortunate or even devastating, that eventually some good will come from them anyway.  I suppose that's true, in a way.   You run into a brick wall in life, you smash yourself against it a few times.  The bad part is you now have a big gash in the front of your forehead from repeated contact with brick and mortar; the good part is that eventually you recognize that your forehead hurts and you look for a different direction to go.  At some point you will find a direction that takes you somewhere useful.

I have reached a point lately where I understand that everything that has happened in my life in the last twenty-odd years has pointed me in this direction and that this is where I'm supposed to be.  Near my parents.  With this man.  On this horse.  With these kids.  At this job.  In this house. None of it is permanent, I know better than to expect that.  But right now, in this moment, I'm here.  And it feels right.

This man, I wish I'd met him a long time ago.  But would I have been in a place then where I could have appreciated what he brought to my life?  Would he have been in a place where he would have even seen in me the woman that attracts him today?  Perhaps not.  So its fun to imagine, but ultimately I think its even more fun to let go of the past and imagine the future.

There are challenges.  There are always challenges, and frankly the last couple of weeks have been up to the eyeballs with them.   Even so, the challenges themselves seem to be telling me "yes, this direction.  Without regret."

Its easy to look at other people and see what's wrong with them.  See the things they ought to change. 

You know what's even harder? 

Look at yourself.  Look at what's wrong with you.  See the things YOU ought to change.

Even harder than that?

Look at the person you have been judging.  Forget what you think they ought to change.  Accept them as they are.  Love them as a person, even if they're not particularly loving toward you. 

I know what my challenges are.  I know I'm learning what I'm supposed to be.  I know I'm where I'm supposed to be.

Its all good.

On being the stable bow

I think life must be far simpler at age 6 than it is at 9.  I also consider the truth that my children are not the same person and each reacts to life's challenges differently, individually.

For instance:  My little race-car man capital L and italicized LOVES S.  They have been fast friends since shortly after they met and watching them together and listening to their conversations makes my heart go thump-thump in my chest.  So much love between them, and the love inside of me swells and surges up through me in response.   My amazonian princess is a bit of a different story.  Her reactions to S are more complex.  She is very reserved with her affections for him.  At first she was insistent that she liked him, but eventually her father informed me otherwise, which prompted some gentle conversations between us.  Its not that I insist she like S, not at all.  Her feelings are not mine to dictate.  I'd rather have a loving conversation about how she really feels than waste my energy ruining our relationship and ensuring that she never share anything important with me.  So we talk.  Its not that she doesn't think he's a nice guy.  She's not uncomfortable with him - but with the concept that I have a boyfriend. 

(I hate that word, honestly.  I'm in my middle forties.  I really don't think boyfriend is the appropriate term, but we don't live together and we're not married, so partner isn't quite the right term, friend is too vague, and both lover and special friend are just too...ewww....so I continue to use "boyfriend."  I just want you to know that I loathe it.)

Its not that she doesn't want S to be my boyfriend - its that she doesn't want anyone to be my boyfriend.

So we talk.  And I hear her and I acknowledge her feelings.  And I let her know, gently, that I understand how she must feel, still wishing that her parents were together.  I say that I am sorry that we hurt her by not being able to stay married to one another.  I say that I wish that it were different, but that it is not and cannot be.  And I let her know also, that I love and care for her so very much.  And that I am a grownup and that I am going to make grownup decisions for myself, such as having a boyfriend.  And she is more than perfectly welcome to share her feelings about that.  And we talk some more, and we hug each other and put our love for one another to words and we move forward.  I hope that someday she is able to cognitively separate her feelings about me having a boyfriend from her feelings from S.  In the meantime, this will do.  She is friendly to him, if aloof, and she is not rude or disrespectful.  I could not ask for better behavior, and I feel that all things considered, she's doing the best she can.  Its more than enough for me.

I'm learning too to put a tight lid on my feelings in regards to parenting time.  She loves her dad, so does my son, and their dad loves them.  There are times they want to be with me when its not my parenting time and there are times they want to be with their dad when they are currently with me.  Its hard sometimes to hear your children say, for whatever reason, that they'd really rather see their dad right now and not feel like you're failing at some level.  Its hard to put personal feelings aside, but nothing else will do.    Logic rarely informs the initial emotional response, and so I am learning to school my features carefully, to refrain from saying anything until I can put a smile on my face and into my voice and accept their feelings for what they are.  Even when I wish they felt differently. 

Its not just that I hope there is payback for this someday in the form of being loved more than the other parent, or that there is some sort of karmic return (although I wouldn't mind a winning MegaMillions ticket, thankyouverymuch) for being a good person.  I think maybe the motivation is more along the "do no harm" scale than anything else.  Common sense and experience tell me that if I attempt to dictate or control my children's feelings that I will be harming them, unforgivably.

Its just more of the growing pains of being a parent, I suppose.

 

 

You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you,

For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.

Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;

For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.

    ~The Prophet, Khalil Gibran, 1923

Touch me

I was thinking the other day, as I was feeling sort of lonely in a faraway hotel room, how in CODA recovery (and just about any other healthy self/relationship book or program you can find out there right now) there is consistent teaching that we don't have to cling to others, we can allow others to be here or not be here, we can let go, and that's the healthiest thing.  And I get that.  I honestly get it, really really I do. 

And there are many 12-step affirmations that remind us that there is a love that we have independent of and greater than the love from other people - it comes from our creator, our higher power, God, Christ, the Universe - whatever the spiritual path you are on.  That love is real, is always surrounding us, it is unconditional, endless, deep and wide.  I know its there, I feel it when I pray or when I sing or when I see the mountains and their blinding white snow-capped peaks in the distance on a sunny day or ride my horse through a mountain meadow.  I know God is there.  The affirmations remind me when I'm having a hard time remembering:

I am unconditionally loved in this moment.  I always have been and I always will be.

We are not human beings having a spiritual experience.  We are spiritual beings having a human experience.

But there's this other thing that I need to talk about.  It came up for me as I was alone, without my family, my love, my dogs, my cats, in a hotel room thousands of miles from home, and while having fun, yet still missing everyone.  It came up today as I was talking to my friend who is dying of cancer whose daughter just moved out and whose son is usually in his bedroom interacting with the rest of the world via a video game and a headset -- God's love might be all that we need, BUT...

...we were created to be consoled by touch. 

Born to be soothed by a mother's hand rubbing our back or by a beloved friend's arms holding us in a supportive hug, having our hand squeezed or our hair stroked by someone who knows us and cares deeply about us. 

And there are times when it is unbearable to have no one nearby who cares about you, who is near enough to touch you and comfort you with their loving touch.

I grew up in a family that dispensed hugs and kisses without a second thought.  We still do.  There was never an inhibition about giving or getting a hug or kiss from mom and dad or from aunts and uncles and cousins.  Its just how we are  I'm the same way with my kids and my animals and my friends and with my love.  I touch them instinctively, constantly, without a conscious thought of what I'm doing.  Every time I walk past my kids I touch their shoulder or kiss the top of their head or give them a hug.  S is within a foot of me?  The most natural thing in the world is to reach out and touch, hug, kiss. 

Those first months of being separated, the nights the kids were gone, it was my animals who gave me that touch.  My cat who crawled on my lap whenever I sat still, my dogs who gathered round me, leaning against me and offering face washes when my cheeks were wet with tears, who suffered endless desperate hugs.  And still, as much as those moments eased my pain, there is nothing that equals a human touch.  We were made to be in community with others.

Even when we consciously understand that we are relentlessly and unabashedly loved by the One who made us, we still need to be touched.

Here's my challenge to you:  Give someone you care about a hug today.   Know as you do so that your loving touch may be just what they need to remind them how very much they are valued and cared for.

 

Everything fades

Pinprick holes in a colourless sky
Let insipid figures of light pass by.
The mighty light of ten thousand suns
Challenges infinity, and is soon gone

        ~From "Morning Glory" by the Moody Blues

Time is my friend and my enemy.  Time brings change, change brings pain, or healing, brings things we need and things we don't want.  I hold a moment in my hand and time wrests it, glimmering, from between my fingers.

I can't hold on to things.  I don't need to hold on to things, but I so badly want to. 

Step One.  We admitted were were powerless over people or things we thought we should be able to control, but really couldn't.

Part of my personal growth curve is accepting the fact that everything changes.  What's interesting to me is that I always assume change will be for the bad, and so I tend to cling to people and things.  The only change I've ever embraced in my life is the change that I initiated of my own accord - usually a side effect of impulsivity.  That was the kind of change that was exciting and empowering.  The change I fought against was the kind of change that came without my express invitation, the change that threatened to create a ripple effect in the world I created for myself.

On the meandering journey to recovery, I find myself frequently returning to the first step.  There are times when I think I really do understand it, and then something will occur that causes me to reconsider.  Maybe I only understand it in theory, or maybe I only understand it when I'm actively thinking about it.  A lot of things are like that, things that aren't habit but must be conjured in order to be considered.  So clearly Step One is not habitual, not yet anyway.  So I go back to Step One, and I think about what it means to me in this life of mine.

I catch myself clinging to things.  A lot.  I forget that clinging is just one of the many ways I attempt to impose control on something that I have no right or need to control.  At least I have come so far as to recognize it, if not right away at least, and begin the arduous process of prying my fingers out of whatever it is I'm hanging on to for dear life, one by one. 

I've clung to people.  I've clung to situations.  Jobs.  Animals.  Belongings. Places.  None of these are static; all of them are subject to universal laws requiring that they change over time.  Clinging to something that is inevitably going to change only intensifies the grief that I feel when that transition comes.  Letting go doesn't mean there is no grief; it only means that there is more peace in the grieving process because I understand and accept change.

Things can change for the better, they can change for the worse, but change they will. 

I am learning to accept that I control nothing and no one.

Star Light, Star Bright

I want so many things, big and small.  Selfish things.  Giving things.  There are days I feel consumed by the wanting.  The wishing that tomorrow could come today and I wouldn’t have to do right now any more.  The wishing that the feeling I’m having at this very moment could be miraculously replaced by something that doesn’t feel so much like its choking me.

Wishing doesn’t fix a damn thing.

The only way to get there is step by excruciating step, and I hate that.  I hate that feeling of backing up more steps than I feel I’ve come. 

In the mothering of two children with some extremely difficult issues, I’ve so many times forced myself to enjoy the progresses, knowing full well they’ll be followed by disappointing setbacks.  Its usually not until months later than I can recognize a pattern, that the setbacks are fewer and father between.  And we make progress, until the next issue presents itself, and we start over again. 

So I suppose it is in life.  I don’t get there by imagining myself there already; I get there by taking the baby steps.  I remember the year of waiting for a promotion that I knew I should have had, waiting for the people who make the decisions to catch up to me.  It was a really difficult year, many times over I questioned what I was doing and why.  I wasn’t patient very much, and there were so many days, especially in the beginning that I had to force myself to go to work and go through the motions. Eventually the bad days were outnumbered by the better ones, and then one magical day arrived:  I got my promotion.  Except it came at someone else’s expense, so that didn’t feel so great.  Be careful what you wish for.

I didn’t get to the end of the first year after separating by any means other than small steps, either.  Every day I felt like my skin was on fire, my brain and emotions constantly pinging back and forth, endlessly in conflict.  One day at a time. 

If I couldn’t imagine the next day, then at least I tried to imagine the next five minutes.  Or the next thirty seconds, whatever worked.   Mostly it worked.  Some days were really shitty, though.  Some days still are.  Sometimes I feel like I’m fighting a shadow version of myself, the bad me.  The one who spews negativity to combat any positive feelings I have.  The one who whispers You won’t make it through the next five minutes.  You’ll explode first.  I have a hard time making her be quiet, that other me.  I have difficulty finding the right ways to get her to shut her lying mouth.  Because those things are lies, all of them. 

Growing is hard.   Changing hurts, sometimes.  Becoming is no process for the faint of heart.  Redefine who I am, look at where I’ve come, check where I’m going.   Am I going someplace I really want to be?  What path am I taking to get there?  Is it the path that ensures I’ll be ready to be there when I arrive, or the path that seems easiest but results in me arriving there well before I’m fully prepared?   Who is it I expect myself to be when I get there?  Will there be chocolate?  What if I never arrive?

I can’t answer all of these questions.  But I’m trying to.

Wishes are tricky things.  Wishing for something tells me what I want in life; living as if the manifestation of the wish is the most important thing at all robs me of the joy of witnessing the reality of my today.  Somewhere in the middle of the wish and the now is the answer.  I’m trying very hard to find that answer, and its not something anyone else can tell me.  Its something I have to find myself. 

One day at a time, I’ll keep trying.