Monthly Archives: July 2012

Talking To Myself


Talking To Myself

I was with an alcoholic for years. I very much loved him, but his lifestyle and mine  conflicted. I distinctly remember talking to him as he passed out every night. I knew when he feel asleep as he had sleep apnea. His snoring could frighten the local wildlife. Most of the time he wasn’t listening even while he was awake. Frequently, he would be so drunk he didn’t remember how he got to bed.

I talked to him anyways. I would tell him about my day, my dreams, my worries, and my hopes. I would go on and on about what I loved, what he did that made me feel so angry inside, and how I planned on pursuing a life well lived. He was like talking to a childhood teddy bear.

Even though our bears cannot hear us it appeared as if they were good listeners. They were a safe place. They could not disclose our secrets. They could not get irritated, frustrated, or angry with our rantings. They could not judge us. As a matter of fact their sole job was letting us be fanciful.

I found while my ex was asleep I was free. I could dream. I could process out loud. I could find healing. Due to his alcohol induced coma every evening, he never woke up to correct me. He could not project guilt, shame, or feelings of inadequacies. He was unable to feed me excuses that would squash my heart. He just laid there in the dark, loud silence as I carried on and on.

It was easy for me to hide my vulnerability. I did not know what a safe outlet looked like. My heart understood there had to be much more to life than this. My head could not fathom beyond disfunction what that looked like, so I had succumbed to finding a way the best I knew how.

At least here I did not have to get into an argument. I did not have to stick in there through the hard fought words to express my thoughts. I did not have to take the time to adequately articulate the pictures in my head. I did not have to work through my fears and insecurities to convey the longings and desires that I suppressed every day.
I did not have to navigate passed his fears and insecurities to find the hidden meaning behind what he was attempting to say.

More than a decade has passed since then. My once lover, who became an enemy, and then a friend has since passed on. He probably never knew he knew me the most if he had only heard the words I had spoken. When things remind me of him, I find myself occasionally talking to the void as if somehow now that he is gone, he is finally listening.

Once I accepted I was valuable I placed worth on my words. It was not the person I was in relationship that was the problem, it was why I would put myself in such a relationship to begin with. Regardless of who I speak to, my family, my friends, or others where there is any possibility of confrontation, I am able to walk in gut wrenching confidence. Without true intimacy we hide. When we lack connection we live isolated even in a crowd. We struggle to believe anyone would find warmth from the fire inside of us, so those glowing embers turn to ash and we feel cold and alone. We may spontaneously seek validation from strangers, but it is those that we are closest to that we struggle to pour our hearts. It is when we give opportunity to true two way discussion that we see our full potential.

I no longer talk without being heard. I am known. When I speak I access my courage to be spoken to. I place myself in situations where my words are valuable. I do not willingly cast my pearls before swine. I view what I have to say as important. Those I share with protect my heart. I allow myself to be challenged when my core beliefs are out of order. I make agreements with those who’s dreams are like minded so I can make partnerships and have room to grow. My words are nourished and my paradigms are shifted. I can continually live in the fullness of joy instead of waiting for the next moment of happiness to come along.


I’m Sick Of Lemonade!!!

I’m Sick Of Lemonade!!!

    I have had quite a few lemons in my time.
When life has been tough and things have gotten hard,
I have been diligent, faithful, and optimistic.
I have squeezed,
I have juiced,
I have sweetened my lemons,
and I… have drank a lot of lemonade.

I am tired of lemonade!
I want some other fruit.
I would like a little more grace, favor, and ease.
I might even settle for some strawberry lemonade.
But what about something completely different.
What about banana-mango, or better yet, a pina~colada.
That would be nice…
Put a little lime in my co-co-nut…

    I need to find some different fruit trees to hang out with.
All this lemonade is making my stomach upset.
Life can keep it’s lemons.
I am going to get me a pineapple and possibly a bottle of tequila.
Then I am going to invite all my friends and family over.
We’ll show them lemons what life is really all about.

They like me… They really like me.

So many people struggle with the fear of rejection. Oftentimes rejecting ourselves before others can reject us.  We wonder if we are good enough, if we are likable, if we are enjoyed. We ponder when we leave if others take notice of us, if they say kind words, or if they talk shit.  We can be so insecure about what others think of us. We hope to find things in common. We seek to show others sides of ourselves that they will be attracted to.
Artists are especially insecure showing people who they are through their work. They take people’s opinions so personal when their work is critiqued as if they are subject to the same criticisms. However, if we do not share our lives with others, the world would be lacking great masterpieces.
I realize people may think they know me by reading my blog postings. The truth is unless people actually know me, unless they have personal relationships with me, unless they ask questions, inquire, and communicate with me, they will only have assumptions and judgements about me. People will only see  glimpses of my thought life. They may think they know what instances I am talking about when I am actually speaking of an observation rather than a personal involvement. People will not fully know what I have gone through, what I have experienced, and what I have endured to get to where I am. They will not know my thought processes, my heart, or the words I leave unspoken.
I have come to accept people will filter my words through their own paradigms. Through this one way communication people will hear only my written voice. They will not see my eyes, hear my tone, or study my body language. So much of what I have to say is like my personal diary which is left opened to interpretation by others. I do not feel the need to over explain myself or defend my words.
I am writing for myself and I am allowing others to see inside. I am writing for others so I can let go. I am sure I will close my eyes at night and question weather or not I should have said something at all or if I should have stated something in a different way. It was when I discovered even Stephen Spielberg questions his work and ability that I have hope. I can be free to create without trying and be myself. I am sure there will be times I second guess myself but at least I will not live with the regret of not having put myself out there.

Mommy, why does it hurt so bad?

I call it my mommy heart. My desire for all of my children to feel loved drives me. I want the best for each of them. I want them to feel special. I want them to know how important they are. I want to nourish and encourage their strengths. I want to guide them through their weaknesses. My mommy heart desires each child be free from the pressures of perphection. I want them to view mistakes as opportunities to learn and grow. I earnestly seek ways to draw the best in each of them to the surface like a gold miner panning for gold. I want them to live life to the fullest, reach their destinies, and pursue their dreams.

It is when bad things happen that my mommy heart kicks in to overdrive. I want to stick my children in a bubble, and keep them from any and all pain. I see it in their eyes; the feeling of loss, a deep indescribable sadness, and a sense of helplessness. I wish to swoop in and save the day. I wish to comfort them and take all of their pain away. I wish to protect them and help them avoid hurt in every way. I learned years ago, this is not only impossible, it is unhealthy. It teaches our children bad coping mechanisms. It also sets them up for failure.

Unfortunately, in life bad things happen; some parents get divorced; some of our closest pets die; sometimes we move away from our friends and family… the list goes on and on. Bad things simply happen. When they do, the hurt can feel overwhelming. The pain can be intense. Our greatest fears can surface and the world can feel unsafe. So many of us have endured great hardships. To act as if we haven’t sets up a false reality for our children to live in. To dwell on our hardships causes us to live impaired. To walk out our hurt with our eyes focused in gratitude teaches victory.

Showing empathy in the middle of our child’s pain is vital. Being compassionate as we listen to them process their hurt will bring healing. Not always knowing the answers is okay. Often times sacrificing our desire to provide understanding can liberate us all from false perceptions and dogma. Allowing our children to walk through their pain leaves less emotional scars, like ointment on an open wound.

Medicating our children’s emotional pain covers it up. Things rarely get resolved like a broken bone that never got reset and cast properly. This often times leads to addictions whether it be shopping, eating disorders (including overeating), alcoholism, drug abuse, etc.. Teaching our children to avoid pain can lead to seclusion, isolation, and loneliness. Fretting about the unknown can lead to irrational fears, wild imaginations, and lofty thoughts. Things that don’t kill us can make us stronger. However, they can make us callus, bitter, angry, or passive as well.

We don’t have to be our children’s savior either. They already have one. He promised to send a comforter. He said, He will never leave us, nor forsake us. As we look to Him as our source, we show them how to do the same. By this we can give our children the tools to have more self-control so they will not try to constantly live on artificially stimulated emotional highs. It takes courage to hold our children’s hand, look them in the eye, and say you can do this; I will be right here with you; I will coach you through to manage your pain; I am sorry it hurts so bad, but you are not alone. I know, because I too have endured pain. Like the sunshine behind the clouds, joy will come in the morning.

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