Tag Archive | moving forward

To Every Season, Turn, Turn, Turn…

This blog post is going to be a mash-up,  as I believe the youngsters call it, so hang with me until the end, if you will, please.  You will be rewarded with an excerpt from my book if you just hold tight.   The title to this blog post—the song—has been turning in my head for a day.  Today I opened my daily devotional to find this exact Bible verse.  Co-inky-dink?  I think not.

Last week I  reported that I had started my book.  Yay team!  I will respond to all of your comments soon.  I am still absorbing it all.  How it is going, you ask?  It is has not gone one darned place since.  Why, you ask?  I have a million excuses, just ask me.  December is busy.  I have gifts to make.  I spit coffee all over my gorgeous Apple keyboard and ruined it and I HATE  my new, cheap, keyboard.  I have to JUMP on the space key to get it to work.

Thank you to Running From Hell With El for this!

Thank you to Running From Hell With El for this!

I have a kid to tend to daily.  I have to work. On and on the excuses go.  Excuses are just that.  It all boils down to one single thing.  I am afraid that I am not good enough.  No matter what anyone says, I simply cannot wrap my head around the concept of being good enough.  Pardon my language, but what if I have to give up my self-appointed title as a fuck up?  My head knows that I am not that, but as always, my heart lags behind.

See that red poster up above?  My friend El made that and I loved it. One part of me thought, “She made that for me,” but the other part of me thought, “Good advice, but she wouldn’t make a poster just for me.”  I talked to El on the phone yesterday.  She said, “I made that poster for you, you know.”  Ah, now I had verbal confirmation.  Darn that all to heck.  Now I have to get real.

I began this blog on March 10th of this year. That is not all that long ago, and yet, some how, I have amassed a boatload of followers in that time.  Every time I get notified that I have a new follower, I shake my head and think. “Hmmm…how did they find me and decide to follow me just like that”?  It strikes me as  strange every time.

A couple of months ago, I got one of these babies and it was a lovely gift.

You Like Me!!

You Like Me!!

Guess what?  Since that time, I have been gifted with yet another one of these from Reflections on Life Thus Far, and again I was humbled and very grateful.  I did nothing with it, because I hate to seem showy.  I am a fly under  the radar kind of gal.  Next thing I know, I have gotten of these, also from Ms. Reflections:

Wow, I said to myself.  Wow.

Wow, I said to myself. Wow.

I was touched beyond words, but quite frankly, I stink at accepting awards because a part of me thinks, “Me”??  The other part of me thinks, “Wow.” but I do not want to turn heads or anything, you know?  What would happen if I actually had to admit to myself that I am a good writer?  Then, last week, I got another one of these, this one coming from Rohan7things.  Is it redundant to post it twice?  Why, yes, it is, but tough!

Wow, I said to myself.  Wow.

Wow, I said to myself. Wow.

Not too long ago, my youngest son from my adult six said to one of his older brothers, “You may not know this, but Mom is kind of a big deal.”  I laughed—Anchorman quote and all,but his older brother, the PhD candidate said, “Mom is an excellent writer. Mom needs to write her book.”  Good heavens! I have no children thinking that I am nutty for wanting to write a book.  How do I wrap my head around my kids knowing I have talent, these genius kids of mine?  It is a lot to take in for me, folks.  It has been my job to allow them to shine. What if I just happen to shine, too?

Good heavens, if this all has not been bad enough—hard enough on my inaccurate view of myself—the other night, this showed up, coming from Ivon at  Teacher as Transformer:

Blog of the Year 2012?? Me??

Blog of the Year 2012?? Me??

Oh, baby, I wanted this almost as much as I want, want, want, to be Freshly Pressed!  I was beside myself having seen my name on the list and ever so grateful, and taken aback, too.  This one is different.  It’s a “collect the whole set” award.  I had one star and that was enough for me, but by the next morning, thanks to Carolyn at ABC of Spirit Talk it looked like this:

Two stars overnight??  Again, I say Wow!

Two stars overnight?? Again, I say Wow!

Two stars is enough for me, but if I get more, I will survive it, I suspect.

Then there is the gang on my Facebook page.  My gang is the best gang on any Facebook page.  They cannot wait for my book.  They tell me that I inspire them every day, and I crack them up, too.  My own personal, real, friends who have known me forever tell me that same thing.  Can you all see now why this might be a bit much to take in all in less than a year?

I am being forced to believe in myself because I KNOW that God and a whole great, big, slew of people believe in me.  I have to reorder my view of myself and that is the hardest thing of all, but it is about darned time that I do it, because I CAN feel it…  I can literally feel success and my book and all good things right at the end of my fingertips.  It is right there and it is just waiting for me to catch up.  I reach out every time I think of my book and I can almost wrap my fingers around it all….almost.  Give me a few more moments to wrap my brain around it all, will you, please?  I am a slow learner and quite stubborn.  I am getting there with your love and support!  This is my season to accept myself and my gifts.

Oh, goodie, now comes the book excerpt, raw as it is.  After the book excerpt I am going to paste in a bunch of blogs that I love, and as far as I am concerned, you all win every single award I have won.  Once again, do with them as you will.  I love you all!

Chapter One:

The alarm went off at 5:30 a.m., waking me up quickly and not happily. I looked over at my 6-year-old son sleeping next to me. This was not our own bed. We were not in our own home, but in half an hour I would have to awaken him to get him fed and ready for school. I went upstairs and started the coffee and made sure that my hosts were awake. I got dressed while simultaneously packing away all of my own clothing. For whatever reason, I chose to wear my best shirt, jeans and shoes. I went and washed my face and applied full makeup and did my hair. Where did I think I was going that day?

 

At 6 a.m., I climbed into bed with my little boy and snuggled closely with him, kissing him to wake him up. He opened his eyes and said, “Is today the day that you have to go”? “Yes, it is, sweetie,” I replied. He did not want to go to school. I understood that, but I told him that he had to go—that everything would be okay and that his big sister would pick up after school. I hugged him hard and then told him we needed to get ready. He was going to school. I was going to turn myself in to go to prison and while I had know about this for over two years, he has only found out two weeks prior.

 

The counselors told me not to tell him. We were all praying that a pardon might come though. No one could see me going to prison. It just wasn’t going to happen. I remembered back to the day that I had finally told him why we had to move back to Maine from Montana—that I had to go to prison. He had melted before my eyes. We held each other and we cried and cried. He asked questions, and I did my best to answer them. “Mommy, what will you eat”? I told him I would eat whatever they gave me, which would probably mean beans and weenies every Saturday night. He found that amusing.

 

“Mom? I don’t want you to get fat, so will you please eat the skinny cereal”? I promised him that I would eat the skinny cereal and that I would write him every day. “Mom? What will you do about privacy”? I told him that I didn’t expect that I would have much. The depth and uncanny understanding he had of the situation floored me. A week later, we loaded up my car and spent a week driving across the northern part of the United States in the treacherous weather of late February.

 

I don’t remember a whole lot more of that morning, that going-to-prison-today-morning, except that somehow I got all of my all of belongings loaded into my car, and all of his belongings loaded into Howard and Georgia’s Chevy Tahoe. I know I dropped him off in his classroom and I think we both had tears in our eyes. His new teacher may have, too. I remember going over to my first husband’s house to drop off his belongings. Aidan would be living with my first husband and his wife, under the care of my younger daughter from my first marriage.

Blogs that I love:

http://abcofspiritalk.wordpress.com/

http://runningfromhellwithel

http://deborah-bryan.com/

http://chrysalisjourney.wordpress.com/

http://waitingforthekarmatruck.com

http://ivonprefontaine.com/

http://roots2blossom.wordpress.com

http://myrivendell.wordpress.com

http://momentumofjoy.com

http://morningstoryanddilbert.wordpress.com

http://scott-williams.ca

http://infinitesadnessorhope.wordpress.com

http://knowmyworth.com

http://yogawithmaheshwari.wordpress.com

http://paularenee.wordpress.com

http://tracielouisephotography.net

http://mymeanderingtrail.com

http://abbyhasissues.com

http://toddlohenry.com

http://shesamaineiac.com

http://thetwistingkaleidoscope.wordpress.com

http://reflectionsonlifethusfar.wordpress.com

http://spreadinformation.wordpress.com

http://rohan7things.wordpress.com/

I am forgetting a lot and I know that.  Please forgive me.  If you are behind me, add yourself the list!  On we go!  Rock on, we will.  I sound like Yoda now. Time to say bye-bye!

Mother’s Day Reflections—A Quickie ;-)

“It seems odd to celebrate one’s mom is just one day. Someone so important should be celebrated every day.”  Anonymous, because he’d prefer it that way.

I have seven gorgeous children who are the light of my life.  Six are adults, and one is just 7 years old.  They are truly amazing, though I admit to a bit of bias.  To say that they are accomplished is an understatement, and that includes the 7 year old.  While their accomplishments are good for bragging rights, they are their accomplishments, not mine, and their accomplishments are not what makes them so special.   As I have always said, I wouldn’t care what they did as long as they are happy doing it.

What makes them so amazing is their personalities, and their character.  They are kind and generous.  They are loving and they are funny as can be.  They can laugh at themselves, and no one can get me laughing faster, or harder, than my children, with my sisters coming in at a close second.  They help me laugh at myself, and we have those family stories that are hilarious to us every time.   We have a secret language of movie quotes that we all understand, and can use to convey a variety of thoughts and emotions.  “Keep the change you filthy animal,” means “I love you,” or “You owe me nothing, it’s a gift.”  We’re all a little nutty, in a good way, of course.  We we are all together, the room vibrates with love, hot conversation, and tons and tons of laughter.  Individually, we are all quiet people, and true introverts, but together we are a gaggle of kindred spirits knowing we are fully home.

However, their greatest gifts lie in their ability to forgive, and to move forward, and to recalculate life, and the people in it, as needed.  This is what means the most to me, because I have required forgiveness more than most mothers.  I have required forgiveness again, and again, and again, and each time it’s been freely given.  They’ve forgiven the years of drinking, and my inability to be there for them properly.  They have forgiven the times I was physically absent due to rehab stays, or jail stays, or prison.  They have forgiven lavishly, with no lingering resentments, and they have moved forward in their view of me as I have recovered.  In many ways, we have been growing up together and they have been as patient with me as I have been with them.  They love me unconditionally, as I have loved them.

Yet, for many years, because of all of the guilt and shame I dragged around because of my perceived poor performance as a mother, I lagged behind them both in my forgiveness of myself, and my ability to recalculate who I am today, as opposed to who I was 10 years ago.   I have been forced to stop and look at myself through their eyes, and actually feel their words, not just hear them.  They did not become who they are today in some miraculous vacuum.  They remind me of this often, and of course, their father has played a role, the older kids having seen the worst, and the youngest having been spared most of that.  Because of my children, and God’s grace, which underpins all of this, I have been able to forgive myself, and I am getting up to speed in the recalculating of my view of me.   I thank God every day for these precious people that He trusted me to care for and love, flawed as I am.

My own mother died over 24 years ago, and I miss her terribly.  Although we had bumps in our relationship, by the time she died, we had reached a place of deep friendship.   She was always the first person I wanted to call when anything happened in my life, good or bad.  Now, I am blessed to have three women in my life who are both friends, and mothers to me.  One woman spoils me silly, and is a grandmother to my 7 year old, though there are no blood ties.  Another is chock full of common sense, and tells it like it is.  She loves to cook, too, like I do, so we share recipes and new food finds.  The third woman is the one to whom I can cry my eyes out, and I discover a bit more of myself every time I talk to her.  There is reciprocity in all of these relationships, which is what makes them so special.

But, the best mother that I have now is myself.  In the recalculating I have had to do—the seeing myself as all of these other very special people see me—I have come to realize that I can, and should, give every wonderful gift to myself that I give to others, and that others so richly give to me.  Knowing that God has fully forgiven me, as have all of the people who matter the most to me, I realized that it is more than a little arrogant not to forgive myself, and treat myself with the love and kindness that I deserve.  What a tremendous gift that has been, and it’s one that will remain.  I am blessed beyond words, and I wish you all the happiest of Mother’s Day’s.  Mothers come in may forms–our own mothers, our children, our friends, our sisters, ourselves.  Even if you have no children, you can celebrate and honor the mother within you today.

That quote up top came from my 20 year old son…  I am sure I’ll stop crying anytime now 😉  Happy Mother’s Day!

Resilience and Life’s Hard Knocks—What Keeps Us Growing

“Resilience is that ineffable quality that allows some people to be knocked down by life and come back stronger than ever. Rather than letting failure overcome them and drain their resolve, they find a way to rise from the ashes. Psychologists have identified some of the factors that make someone resilient, among them a positive attitude, optimism, the ability to regulate emotions, and the ability to see failure as a form of helpful feedback. Even after a misfortune, blessed with such an outlook, resilient people are able to change course and soldier on.”   ~Psychology Today~

 

Today, resilience has been on my mind.  Why do some people seem to thrive and grow and keep moving forward despite unfortunate life circumstance?  The answer is that they possess a quality called resilience, that springy, bounciness that has them back up on their feet quickly after a fall, dusting themselves, and moving forward stronger than before.  Resilient people are the Timex watches of the world; They take a licking and keep on ticking.  Resilient people are beautiful, and I know a lot of them.  I am a resilient person, too.  They do not turn to anger, and bitterness, and blame of the world, and everyone in it, when life is less than ideal, either by uncontrollable circumstances, or because of their own mistakes and poor choices.  Resilient people do not just take lemons and turn them into lemonade.  No, instead they make a lemon mousse with a blueberry coulis 😉

What constitutes resilience?  In a nutshell, it is the ability to cope with unfortunate life events without getting dragged down to too long.  Resilience comes more easily for some people, both emotional and physical resilience.  Some people are just born more naturally optimistic, positive, and flexible.  Some people learn resilience along the way, as life provides more experiences from which to recover.  Age plays a factor in resilience, as does experience at surviving and thriving.  When we’ve been through a lot, and we’ve kept going, and remained hopeful, and optimistic, and see that behavior works better than blaming or negativity, we develop more traits associated with resilience.

Yes, resilient people have certain traits.  First off, they are aware of their own emotions, and what causes them, and they learn to manage them.  This may take more time for some, especially the managing part.  I was always aware of my emotions, and generally aware of where they were coming from, but learning to manage them took, and still takes, time.  I am a sensitive, and fairly reactive, very expressive person.  However, I am also easy going.  As my sister says, “For a high strung person, you’re incredibly easy going.”  It’s true.  I don’t sweat the small stuff, and the older I get, the more I realize most of it is small stuff.  “It’s not the end of the world,” is a phrase I say out loud many times a day.  Trust me.  It’s really not.

Resilient people persevere.  They do not give up often, or easily.  I often liken myself to one of those blow up clowns with sand in the bottom.  You punch them and punch them but they just pop right back up.  My ability to pop back up time and again is because I never lose hope.  I often say that I am a “Hope springs eternal” kind of gal, and that’s true, too.  Resilient people, no matter how low they go, always have hope that tomorrow is going to be better, so they keep pushing forward towards that tomorrow.

Resilient people are internally focused.  What that means is that, instead of looking out at the world, blaming and shaming finger pointed at anything and everyone who crosses their path, they know inside that they are in control of their lives, their choices, their outcomes.  This isn’t done with perfection, or 100% of the time, and for many their are occasional missteps where the locus moves to the external, at what’s happening to them.  However, the resilient person won’t stay in the external for long.  They will go back inside themselves, examine their role in what’s going on, and begin problem solving.  They will find a solution, often through a change in their own attitude, or behavior.  That is why resilient people grow from mistakes, and poor choices and behaviors, and from life itself.

A resilient person will always find a bright side to any circumstance.  We are positive, optimistic people.  At the same time, perhaps because of this life view, resilient people have good support systems of friends, family, and others who are like minded, and who help shore them up during those experiences in life that we label “bad.”

Resilience is essential to recovery, whether it be from alcoholism and addiction, loss, trauma and abuse.  It’s my belief that everyone is in recovery from something, whether it be a job loss, a bad work evaluation, a divorce, or a stubbed toe, and bad traffic on the way to work.  Resilience allows us accept even undesirable outcomes, forgive, move on, and finally let go, usually coming out better and strong for the experience.  Resilient people are bright, shiny, and sparkling.  The don’t hold grudges, and they do not look back for too long.  They are not trapped by their past, a slave to their present, and they don’t worry a lot about the future.

I don’t know if I emerged from the womb a resilient person.  I think I probably had the traits on the delivery table.  Life’s hard knocks began early, and I learned some pretty crummy coping mechanisms along the way, though they are probably what kept me alive.  I’ve done anger, and blame at points in my life and I HATED how that felt.  I never could hold a grudge 😉 I have always had hope.  I have always known it was going to get better.  I have always kept going even when others thought it impossible, that I’d never make it through alive this time.  I have learned how to be more resilient with each tough experience, and with each tough experience I have become more myself.

Today, I am celebrating resilience, and resilient people.  Without God and resilience, I would not be here today.  If you are a resilient person, celebrate that today, even if you’re in the middle of yet another storm.  If you’re not the most resilient person in the world, you CAN learn resilience!  It will take work, but it will be worth every moment of it!

 

Addiction versus Narcissism and Sociopathy

Yesterday, I read a post on a blog where the poster was speaking of people with substance abuse issues in what I consider to be a very narrow view.  Basically, what he reduced a person with an addiction was to “an addictive personality,” nothing more, nothing less.  Taking it further, the poster went on to say that addictive personalities have life-long, deep seated character problems, blame the world for their problems, and fail to take personal responsibility for their behavior.  That these comments were made my a retired psychiatrist, not just some man off the street, is even more disturbing.  While it is true that someone deep in their addiction will generally deflect responsibility onto someone, or something else, once recovery begins, so does acceptance of one’s own personal responsibility in poor choices, bad behaviors, and so forth.

However, to reduce addiction to a character defect, and to claim all addicts and alcoholics are merely addictive personalities does a severe disservice to those living in addiction, and those who have triumphed over their addiction.  Experience has taught me, both  intensely personal, and from extensive observation of others, that addiction is never that simple.  I believe this is especially true for women, because it is most often women who are subject to childhood trauma and sexual abuse, and these women are then are left to somehow pick up the pieces from those experiences without an instruction manual.

Childhood trauma and abuse lead to PTSD and, over a lifetime, PTSD can look like many, many things.  This is well documented in psychiatric world.  PTSD can lead to eating disorders, self harm, substance abuse, and repeated poor choices in life.  PTSD at various times in life can come out as depression, anger, and anxiety.  It can look like bipolar disorder, and is often misdiagnosed and treated as such.  Until the PTSD is faced, treated, and defeated, it can look and behave like so many things that are only red herrings.  Of course, childhood trauma and abuse that leads to substance abuse, or other self defeating behaviors, does not factor in any genetic components, also so important to acknowledge.  That a child who lives in an alcoholic home is more apt to be traumatized as a child goes without saying, and certainly in this case, you have trauma mixed neatly with unfortunate genetics.

It was while I was prison that I first became acquainted with the ACES Study.  ACES is an acronym for adverse childhood experiences study.  Adverse childhood experiences are, simply, put traumatic experience which occurred before the age of 18.  What I learned was among my fellow female inmates, nearly 100% of these women had an ACES score of over 6, with 10 being the highest possible score.  Statistics on women in prison who have suffered childhood abuse and trauma are generally quoted at being of 60% to 90%.  I tend to believe the 90%.  Since women in prison are almost always there for drug and alcohol related crimes, what does this tell us?   It tell me that these women, myself included, we not born flawed, nor defective, nor are we merely addictive personalities.  We are women who have been hurt, and hurt again, and then hurt some more, and we coped with that pain the best way we knew how, as faulty and personally destructive as was that coping mechanism.  Of course, when we are drinking or drugging, we are a perfect candidate for an abuser looking for an easy target to prey on, and the cycle continues, and gets worse.

But, alcoholism, addiction, and PTSD are all very treatable.   People do get better and go on to live healthy, productive, lives.  Some people go beyond getting better.  They move on to become authentic.  That brings me to my favored personality development theory, Dabrowski’s Theory of Positive Disintegration.  As much as I like Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, Dabrowski rings far more true for me.  Loathe as I am to use Wikipedia as a source, for this topic, I am going to do it.  So, go here and read this: Positive Disintegration.  It’s not an easy or a quick read, but it is extremely worthwhile.  The theory is far too complex for me to give you a nutshell description here.

So, how can disintegration, an ugly term, ever be positive?  In certain persons, people Dabrowski terms as those with a high developmental potential, disintegration, as messy, and painful, and ugly as it is, eventually leads to the ultimate reintegration, and that is where the authentic person is found.   Dabrowski speaks of people with inherent overexcitabilies, similar to Elaine Aron’s traits of the Highly Sensitive Person.  A HSP, or a person with these overexcitabilities will see and feel life far more intensely than the average person.  I am a HSP, and I have several children who are, too.   Actually, I think they six out of the seven are, to one degree or another.  So, for we HSPs, life just hurts.  Are we born HSPs, or with these overexcitabilities, or are they born from childhood trauma?  What does childhood trauma do to a HSP?  Well, it may lead to that all important series of disintegration experiences, which, if faced appropriately, can lead to a beautiful place called authenticity.

I know many, many, women who are doing more than recovering from addiction, and healing from childhood trauma.  They are working hard to build their disintegration experiences into a firm foundation of personal integrity and authenticity.  These women, and I am one of them, have moved beyond excuses and blame and self abuse.  They live in honesty of all that they were, what they experienced, how it affected them, and those around them. We have a gleaming personal integrity.  We make mistakes, and take responsibility, we apologize, we keep moving forward.  It’s a beautiful way to live, and a gorgeous thing to watch.

Contrast all of the above with the narcissist, or the sociopath.  These are the people who are truly flawed to the core.  They do not get better.  They are the extreme in the term “treatment resistant.”  They lie, blame, fail to take personal responsibility, but worse, they see absolutely nothing wrong with that behavior, or themselves.  They almost never seek treatment, and if they do, they almost always use it to hone their craftiness—too learn how to better fake being human. Since they believe there is nothing wrong with them, they do not seek treatment to get better. They generally do it to shut someone up, usually a partner.  In their minds, there is nothing to get better from, so they lie their way through therapy, and the therapist often gets sucked in by their charm, so he or she may actually pat the narcissist or sociopath on the back and tell him he’s just fine.  For this reason, in many ways, it is far better for a sociopath not to seek help lest he come out of it more advanced in his manipulation skills.  These people are the users and abusers in the world, and they are everywhere.

So, give me addiction and PTSD and a messy looking life any day!   I am healing, and I moving forward, and I am better, and lest I sound a tad narcissistic, I am beautiful.   I am not an addictive personality.  I am a glorious, genuine, human being with integrity, kindness, compassion.  I live a wonderful life.