Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Focus
Something is different today. That detachment has returned. Self confidence. Focus. An understanding of where I'm going. I'm not lost in my dreams today. I'm not overly concerned with what my friend thinks of me or if he thinks of me. I am my own person today. I am good.
Monday, July 28, 2008
motivation to live properly
I nearly died last night. Again. I wish I remembered the whole incident. Maybe it would motivate me more to live properly.
My husband told me that I stopped breathing. He shook me; I gasped for breath. He listened to my heart; it was racing. All I do remember is rolling over and continuing on with my dreams. Dreaming, dreaming, always dreaming. Sometimes I feel like I fail to live in reality at all. And yet, sometimes, like when I'm in the midst of a spiritual battle, reality seems more real than ever before. That may seem odd to you -- she feels like reality is more real when there are spirits involved -- but it doesn't to me.
In any case, I woke up and listened to my husband's account of how I had nearly suffocated in the middle of the night and I resolved that if I was going to go out, it wasn't going to be with a neglected house and children. I was going to leave my legacy: the place would be orderly, the children would be attended to, dinner would comprise of colorful balanced side dishes, warm and on the table. I would not be leaving this earth with laundry undone and the floor unswept and library books which had still not yet been read to the children. No sir. Not me.
And of course, I would leave letters for everyone. Letters of how I felt about them and how much they meant to me and how I prayed for them and wished them well and how I would continue praying and that my spirit would always be with them, even if I were gone. But then, all that is probably rather unnecessary, since I send my sentiments constantly.
My grandparents are still alive. A few months ago, I sent them the letter I would read as their eulogy. Is that crazy? Rude? I didn't think so at the time. But as always, I tend to doubt myself. When I wrote it, I figured, "Why should I wait until they're gone to tell them how I love them?" They appreciated the letter. But still, it's a little...strange.
I have some crazy insane need to tell everyone everything about myself. Expose all my struggles and vulnerabilities. It's not so much that I'm looking for sympathy. It's more that I want others to know they're not alone. Maybe they want to be alone. I don't know. I try to give to everyone the things I never had. And that's why I'm always listening to others, sharing with others, relating to others. For ten years, I dreamed of being a counselor to teens, mostly because when I was a teen, I never had a good counselor. I started a natural birth meetup group, mostly because when I was pregnant and planning an out-of-hospital birth, no one was around to answer my questions. I have often taken up projects simply because I wished someone had done it for me. Perhaps that's the wrong way to approach life. I don't know.
My friend told me he doubts that it's understanding he wants. That took me by surprise. Doesn't every person in the world want to be understood? Doesn't every one want to know that he's not alone. Doesn't every one want to relate to others somehow? Isn't everyone in the world just a little bit needy like me? I'd like to think that. But perhaps that's not reality at all. Perhaps I should just keep to myself and volunteer information only when asked. Perhaps I've been going about this friendship thing all wrong. Maybe nobody is really interested in knowing my whole life story. It's my life story, maybe I should just keep it to myself. Write an autobiography. Get it published posthumously. Get something published anyway.
It's not understanding he wants. Perhaps that's why he claims no god. So what does he want then? I wonder if I'll ever know. I pray for him. Often. I pray he'll get whatever it is he really wants. Whatever the Lord really wants for him. Do those things coincide for him? Do they coincide for me? For the vast majority of us? Probably not. But I pray the Lord's will be done, in any case.
My husband told me that I stopped breathing. He shook me; I gasped for breath. He listened to my heart; it was racing. All I do remember is rolling over and continuing on with my dreams. Dreaming, dreaming, always dreaming. Sometimes I feel like I fail to live in reality at all. And yet, sometimes, like when I'm in the midst of a spiritual battle, reality seems more real than ever before. That may seem odd to you -- she feels like reality is more real when there are spirits involved -- but it doesn't to me.
In any case, I woke up and listened to my husband's account of how I had nearly suffocated in the middle of the night and I resolved that if I was going to go out, it wasn't going to be with a neglected house and children. I was going to leave my legacy: the place would be orderly, the children would be attended to, dinner would comprise of colorful balanced side dishes, warm and on the table. I would not be leaving this earth with laundry undone and the floor unswept and library books which had still not yet been read to the children. No sir. Not me.
And of course, I would leave letters for everyone. Letters of how I felt about them and how much they meant to me and how I prayed for them and wished them well and how I would continue praying and that my spirit would always be with them, even if I were gone. But then, all that is probably rather unnecessary, since I send my sentiments constantly.
My grandparents are still alive. A few months ago, I sent them the letter I would read as their eulogy. Is that crazy? Rude? I didn't think so at the time. But as always, I tend to doubt myself. When I wrote it, I figured, "Why should I wait until they're gone to tell them how I love them?" They appreciated the letter. But still, it's a little...strange.
I have some crazy insane need to tell everyone everything about myself. Expose all my struggles and vulnerabilities. It's not so much that I'm looking for sympathy. It's more that I want others to know they're not alone. Maybe they want to be alone. I don't know. I try to give to everyone the things I never had. And that's why I'm always listening to others, sharing with others, relating to others. For ten years, I dreamed of being a counselor to teens, mostly because when I was a teen, I never had a good counselor. I started a natural birth meetup group, mostly because when I was pregnant and planning an out-of-hospital birth, no one was around to answer my questions. I have often taken up projects simply because I wished someone had done it for me. Perhaps that's the wrong way to approach life. I don't know.
My friend told me he doubts that it's understanding he wants. That took me by surprise. Doesn't every person in the world want to be understood? Doesn't every one want to know that he's not alone. Doesn't every one want to relate to others somehow? Isn't everyone in the world just a little bit needy like me? I'd like to think that. But perhaps that's not reality at all. Perhaps I should just keep to myself and volunteer information only when asked. Perhaps I've been going about this friendship thing all wrong. Maybe nobody is really interested in knowing my whole life story. It's my life story, maybe I should just keep it to myself. Write an autobiography. Get it published posthumously. Get something published anyway.
It's not understanding he wants. Perhaps that's why he claims no god. So what does he want then? I wonder if I'll ever know. I pray for him. Often. I pray he'll get whatever it is he really wants. Whatever the Lord really wants for him. Do those things coincide for him? Do they coincide for me? For the vast majority of us? Probably not. But I pray the Lord's will be done, in any case.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
discipline
"I need your discipline. I need your help." That's what he said. I was so determined to do it. But the very next morning, I struggled. The urge came over me and I gave in. The urge to talk, the urge to make contact. The need for attention, for acknowledgement. It just overwhelms me. I can't seem to hold back. But I must. I must.
I feel so out of control sometimes. So unorganized, so unfocused. I should map out my day, I guess. Map out my time -- my week, my month, my year. Schedules. I should treat myself like a child until I can behave like an adult again.
If I can make it through this, I will be able to make it through anything. I should take up running again. Discipline. Discipline.
I feel so out of control sometimes. So unorganized, so unfocused. I should map out my day, I guess. Map out my time -- my week, my month, my year. Schedules. I should treat myself like a child until I can behave like an adult again.
If I can make it through this, I will be able to make it through anything. I should take up running again. Discipline. Discipline.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
come oh wise men, come
Sometimes our hearts are like dark caves. No natural light shines through. What is within us seems immensely black and scary and hopeless. But the Lord showed me that if we allow His light to shine within us, we will see that the cave is filled with beautiful sparkling crystals and reflective pools.
Tonight, I got an image of the three wise men. They were journeying toward that cave. They were bringing their precious gifts. And the cave was no longer a void of darkness. The star of David was shining above it. It was the stable, occupied by the Holy Family. The animals were there and the cave had been full of stench. But Mary filled it with the perfume of roses. And Joseph spread the fragrance of lillies. And Baby Jesus wafted forth the beautiful scent of a newborn begotten of the most pure virginal womb.
I await the wise men. And I long to be able to receive their gifts. I invite the Holy Family to settle into the cave of my heart and to flood out the stench with their lovely frangrances.
Tonight, I got an image of the three wise men. They were journeying toward that cave. They were bringing their precious gifts. And the cave was no longer a void of darkness. The star of David was shining above it. It was the stable, occupied by the Holy Family. The animals were there and the cave had been full of stench. But Mary filled it with the perfume of roses. And Joseph spread the fragrance of lillies. And Baby Jesus wafted forth the beautiful scent of a newborn begotten of the most pure virginal womb.
I await the wise men. And I long to be able to receive their gifts. I invite the Holy Family to settle into the cave of my heart and to flood out the stench with their lovely frangrances.
journey back to the sunshine
I had a long talk with my husband last night, trying to figure myself and all my crazy behaviors out. I generally feel like men are much wiser than women. Maybe it's my family. I don't know. But I have grown up with the perception that women are emotional weaklings who need men to point them in the right direction, to help them see the big picture, to smack some sense into them when they're freaking out about the milk being left out on the counter for a whole half an hour and how it's going to spoil if it's not put away now and does my daughter really think that money grows on trees and how am I going to pay the bills, etc. etc. etc. (And no, that whole line was not taken from my history as a parent. It was something I experienced when growing up, okay?) Anyway, I find that the men who were in my life were rather wise and stable and had a good grasp on the big picture.
So I mumbled to my husband about how horribly embarrassed I was that my friend said I was hardly faithful at all and that I was quite ridiculous as far as Catholics go. This was humiliating for me to face since my friend rejects religion altogether. I mean, I should be a good example, a faithful witness, somebody that somebody else might possibly want to be like. Apparently, I have been none of those things. I have simply been ridiculous.
That was hard to take. And the worst part was that I instantly knew it was true. I'm not always like this, but sometimes I fall into this mode where I use my religion in a superstitious way. Like if I just say enough rosaries and enough divine mercy chaplets, if I say the right prayers the right number of times, if I call upon the right saints and use the proper title of Mary when seeking intercession, then all the cards will play together and help me have the winning hand.
Deep inside, I know this is not the way the Lord intends us to indulge in the fullness of truth. But still, I tend to be quite controlling and so sometimes, even though I don't think it consciously, I try to make God my puppet, my vending machine. And I get annoyed, disappointed, sometimes desperate, and very rarely enraged when things don't work out the way I had planned they would.
My husband put it well: "You need to allow God to work through you. You cannot try to work through God." Yes, that was what I was trying to do. Sad, but true.
In my efforts to prioritize my life and to stop being so self-focused, I have taken up teaching again this week. We've been off of school work for about seven weeks now and there has been no order in the house, no routine to our lives. It has allowed me to become quite self-absorbed. It has allowed me to stop really being a mom and to just sort of referee the sibling squabbling. My husband even had a dream last week that he was in the truck following the van and all the kids were in the van and no one was driving it. He was feeling my absence in the family. My non-presence despite my being home all day every day.
But yesterday, I started my journey back toward the sunshine. I read books to my kids and took them to the library. I washed the dishes and folded the laundry and made the beds. I listened to my kids. I listened to my friends. I listened to my husband. I re-engaged myself into their lives. Today, I went out to lunch. I took care of my business. I listened my my music which makes me feel so much like me. And tomorrow, I plan to run a race -- a 2-miler. And I will run it with a friend of mine. I never feel more like myself than when I'm running. And it's always best when running with a friend.
When I was teaching this morning, I realized that I was returning to normalcy. By guiding my boys in their lessons, I was able to take on the adult role. I was able to be calm and steady and encouraging. I was able to stop being like a kid myself.
I do firmly believe that homeschooling is best for my children and for our family. But I realize too that it is best for me as a mom. It fulfills my need to be needed. It helps me know that I'm making a difference in some one's life. It enforces that feeling that I crave -- that I truly am unique and irreplaceable, that no other person can do this job as well as I can. Sometimes I am tempted to think that I'm doing it just for me, but I've prayed about it often and I do believe it's best for all of us.
Watching my sons learn, I realized again the truth of what my husband said last night: "Every person is on his own journey. You cannot make him go in any particular direction. You can only point the way and give him encouragement. But ultimately, you have to let him make his own decisions and discover things on his own." I didn't just discover this last night. But like I said, life goes in cycles and sometimes I have to rediscover it and accept it in an even deeper way than before.
I don't like to harp on hurts and I don't like to blame everything on my father's absence in my life, but I do think it has affected my entire outlook on who I am and how I perceive my relationships with other people. I grew up knowing that my father's abandonment wasn't my fault, but somehow always deep-down believing that it was. I realize now that I've carried around this notion -- I'm mostly over it, but I still cling to it from time to time -- that if I had just been a better little girl, if I just could have controlled myself more and not been so naughty as a two year old, the man that should have been my protector and my rock and my reassurance would not have walked out of my life. I understand now that I've always thought that if I could just do everything right and control my emotions and be better than I am at the moment, then I could change the men in my life to be the persons I always wanted them to be. Hearing myself now, it seems incredibly ridiculous. And that brings us back to where we started -- my ridiculousness.
I understand -- once again, in a deeper way this time -- that I cannot change anybody. I need to just be myself. I don't need to be perfect. I just need to be who I am. The people who accept me accept me and the people who don't don't. That's just the way it is. It's not my fault if they choose to move on. I can be loving and kind and merciful and forgiving all I want. But in the end, I cannot force anyone to do anything. And in the end, I need to be all those things with myself as well.
So I mumbled to my husband about how horribly embarrassed I was that my friend said I was hardly faithful at all and that I was quite ridiculous as far as Catholics go. This was humiliating for me to face since my friend rejects religion altogether. I mean, I should be a good example, a faithful witness, somebody that somebody else might possibly want to be like. Apparently, I have been none of those things. I have simply been ridiculous.
That was hard to take. And the worst part was that I instantly knew it was true. I'm not always like this, but sometimes I fall into this mode where I use my religion in a superstitious way. Like if I just say enough rosaries and enough divine mercy chaplets, if I say the right prayers the right number of times, if I call upon the right saints and use the proper title of Mary when seeking intercession, then all the cards will play together and help me have the winning hand.
Deep inside, I know this is not the way the Lord intends us to indulge in the fullness of truth. But still, I tend to be quite controlling and so sometimes, even though I don't think it consciously, I try to make God my puppet, my vending machine. And I get annoyed, disappointed, sometimes desperate, and very rarely enraged when things don't work out the way I had planned they would.
My husband put it well: "You need to allow God to work through you. You cannot try to work through God." Yes, that was what I was trying to do. Sad, but true.
In my efforts to prioritize my life and to stop being so self-focused, I have taken up teaching again this week. We've been off of school work for about seven weeks now and there has been no order in the house, no routine to our lives. It has allowed me to become quite self-absorbed. It has allowed me to stop really being a mom and to just sort of referee the sibling squabbling. My husband even had a dream last week that he was in the truck following the van and all the kids were in the van and no one was driving it. He was feeling my absence in the family. My non-presence despite my being home all day every day.
But yesterday, I started my journey back toward the sunshine. I read books to my kids and took them to the library. I washed the dishes and folded the laundry and made the beds. I listened to my kids. I listened to my friends. I listened to my husband. I re-engaged myself into their lives. Today, I went out to lunch. I took care of my business. I listened my my music which makes me feel so much like me. And tomorrow, I plan to run a race -- a 2-miler. And I will run it with a friend of mine. I never feel more like myself than when I'm running. And it's always best when running with a friend.
When I was teaching this morning, I realized that I was returning to normalcy. By guiding my boys in their lessons, I was able to take on the adult role. I was able to be calm and steady and encouraging. I was able to stop being like a kid myself.
I do firmly believe that homeschooling is best for my children and for our family. But I realize too that it is best for me as a mom. It fulfills my need to be needed. It helps me know that I'm making a difference in some one's life. It enforces that feeling that I crave -- that I truly am unique and irreplaceable, that no other person can do this job as well as I can. Sometimes I am tempted to think that I'm doing it just for me, but I've prayed about it often and I do believe it's best for all of us.
Watching my sons learn, I realized again the truth of what my husband said last night: "Every person is on his own journey. You cannot make him go in any particular direction. You can only point the way and give him encouragement. But ultimately, you have to let him make his own decisions and discover things on his own." I didn't just discover this last night. But like I said, life goes in cycles and sometimes I have to rediscover it and accept it in an even deeper way than before.
I don't like to harp on hurts and I don't like to blame everything on my father's absence in my life, but I do think it has affected my entire outlook on who I am and how I perceive my relationships with other people. I grew up knowing that my father's abandonment wasn't my fault, but somehow always deep-down believing that it was. I realize now that I've carried around this notion -- I'm mostly over it, but I still cling to it from time to time -- that if I had just been a better little girl, if I just could have controlled myself more and not been so naughty as a two year old, the man that should have been my protector and my rock and my reassurance would not have walked out of my life. I understand now that I've always thought that if I could just do everything right and control my emotions and be better than I am at the moment, then I could change the men in my life to be the persons I always wanted them to be. Hearing myself now, it seems incredibly ridiculous. And that brings us back to where we started -- my ridiculousness.
I understand -- once again, in a deeper way this time -- that I cannot change anybody. I need to just be myself. I don't need to be perfect. I just need to be who I am. The people who accept me accept me and the people who don't don't. That's just the way it is. It's not my fault if they choose to move on. I can be loving and kind and merciful and forgiving all I want. But in the end, I cannot force anyone to do anything. And in the end, I need to be all those things with myself as well.
your smile and the sunshine
I never knew that your smile
and the sunshine
could provide for us a happy place
nevermind that there's a raging war
you bring me peace I've never known before
I never knew that your smile
and the sunshine
could provide for us a happy place
This past Saturday morning, I woke up with this song in my mind. It's not a song I've ever heard before, but I imagined an older man on the top of a mountain, strumming his guitar, singing these words from the depths of his heart. To tell the truth, the man looked like my father and maybe he even sounded like him. I don't' know. He had a voice that sounded like it was from the 70's, like some John Denver or Joe Crocker or Cat Stevens. In any case, it was a beautiful voice, mostly because it was sincere. It seemed that the Lord was giving me that song as a way of healing that father wound. Like He was saying, "This is the song your father should have been singing to you when you were a child. This is the song I have been singing to you all your life."
I cried that morning. A healing cry. My husband held me and loved me in that moment. He's very good at that. He never tires of my needs. He never tires of comforting me. He never tires of listening to me. And, looking back now on what happened in the hours that followed that morning, he never tires of forgiving me and accepting me where I'm at and encouraging me to do better and strengthening me to persevere. I must say he is perhaps the greatest husband in all the world. Women are envious when I tell them all the great things he does for me.
I know a lot of great guys. I know a lot of great husbands. I know a lot of great marriages. In all my ten years of marriage and having married friends, I have never known any couple to get divorced! That has to say a lot in this day and age. And with all that, I can say that my husband is the greatest. He is everything I need him to be. Everything I need him to be. And yet, I am not always content. Sometimes it's like I think he is too good to me. Sometimes I think I really don't deserve him. Alright, alright, I admit it -- sometimes I just firmly believe that I deserve to be treated like shit. And maybe that's what this is all about. Maybe I sometimes think my husband is a dork for loving me as much as he does. Maybe that's why I have found myself, on a handful of occasions, clinging to someone who is mysterious and intimidating and who doesn't care much about me at all. That's screwed up. It really is. But what other conclusion is there?
And now I am exposed and vulnerable once again.
Okay, I'm stepping into the sunshine now. I am walking OUT of the shadows. No more musing. No more pondering. No more holding a magnifying glass to all my scars and my pathetic neurotic behaviors. I will stop focusing on myself and start focusing on others once again. I will be giving and considerate and loving. I will get my life back into its proper order. And for Heaven's sake, I will STOP being the most self-centered, self-pitying person in all the world!
God bless anyone who is reading through all this trash. I'm off to lunch now. Adios.
and the sunshine
could provide for us a happy place
nevermind that there's a raging war
you bring me peace I've never known before
I never knew that your smile
and the sunshine
could provide for us a happy place
This past Saturday morning, I woke up with this song in my mind. It's not a song I've ever heard before, but I imagined an older man on the top of a mountain, strumming his guitar, singing these words from the depths of his heart. To tell the truth, the man looked like my father and maybe he even sounded like him. I don't' know. He had a voice that sounded like it was from the 70's, like some John Denver or Joe Crocker or Cat Stevens. In any case, it was a beautiful voice, mostly because it was sincere. It seemed that the Lord was giving me that song as a way of healing that father wound. Like He was saying, "This is the song your father should have been singing to you when you were a child. This is the song I have been singing to you all your life."
I cried that morning. A healing cry. My husband held me and loved me in that moment. He's very good at that. He never tires of my needs. He never tires of comforting me. He never tires of listening to me. And, looking back now on what happened in the hours that followed that morning, he never tires of forgiving me and accepting me where I'm at and encouraging me to do better and strengthening me to persevere. I must say he is perhaps the greatest husband in all the world. Women are envious when I tell them all the great things he does for me.
I know a lot of great guys. I know a lot of great husbands. I know a lot of great marriages. In all my ten years of marriage and having married friends, I have never known any couple to get divorced! That has to say a lot in this day and age. And with all that, I can say that my husband is the greatest. He is everything I need him to be. Everything I need him to be. And yet, I am not always content. Sometimes it's like I think he is too good to me. Sometimes I think I really don't deserve him. Alright, alright, I admit it -- sometimes I just firmly believe that I deserve to be treated like shit. And maybe that's what this is all about. Maybe I sometimes think my husband is a dork for loving me as much as he does. Maybe that's why I have found myself, on a handful of occasions, clinging to someone who is mysterious and intimidating and who doesn't care much about me at all. That's screwed up. It really is. But what other conclusion is there?
And now I am exposed and vulnerable once again.
Okay, I'm stepping into the sunshine now. I am walking OUT of the shadows. No more musing. No more pondering. No more holding a magnifying glass to all my scars and my pathetic neurotic behaviors. I will stop focusing on myself and start focusing on others once again. I will be giving and considerate and loving. I will get my life back into its proper order. And for Heaven's sake, I will STOP being the most self-centered, self-pitying person in all the world!
God bless anyone who is reading through all this trash. I'm off to lunch now. Adios.
a series of cycles
It seems that life is a series of cycles. And within each cycle you're trying to learn in a deeper way the lesson that was presented to you in the first place. You go through these bright revelations of truth and you're confident and happy while walking in them. And then you go through the shadows of lies and you recognize that you've been in that place before and you are tempted to think the truth was never real and that the darkness is the place where you belong.
I have recognized once again that I have a high need for security. I long to be protected, accepted, safe. This may seem odd since I am chronically exposing myself as a vulnerable being. You would think I would hide all my vulnerability and not let anyone in. You would think I would not let anyone know anything about myself and that maybe I would take up some form of escapism on a regular basis. I have my moments of escaping...into my dreamworld of my thoughts, into the warmth of a bubble bath, into the clarity of my writing, into the pounding rhythm of my music when driving in the car, the the comfortable quiet of my room when the kids are watching videos. But it's like I need someone else to protect me, accept me, and make me feel safe. My husband does all these things for me. I thought I was over this need. So why do I find myself still looking for it? Why do I find myself in the shadows, hearing that voice, "You are not worth the trouble. No one wants to bother with you. No one wants to deal with all your emotional needs. You are not good enough for anyone to want to endure. You deserve to have everyone walk out on you. Accept it -- you are completely alone."
I have recognized once again that I have a high need for consistency. I like order and I don't like change. Even when I know the change will be a great thing in my life, I face it with nervous anxiety. I am uncomfortable with the unknown. It is not all that exciting to me. It is dark and mysterious in an intimidating way. And that's why Flip is dark and mysterious and intimidating. And maybe too that's why Tanya longs for him to come around and help her feel protected and accepted and safe -- to prove that he really is an okay guy after all. Tanya does not give up. She has hope. She walks through the shadows and she perseveres and she is triumphant -- at least in the first version. She does not hear that voice, "You have to change in order to be okay. You have to change in order to be acceptable. You have to change because nobody likes you the way you are." See, change is a negative there. Even when I know it's good for me, I feel like I have to change only so I can stop being all the bad things that I am.
I have recognized once again that I have a high need to be needed. I like to feel like I have a place in the world. I like to feel that my life matters somehow. I am a very dedicated person. That's a good thing most of the time. It's a bad thing when it turns into stubbornness -- my trying to get what I want no matter how improbable it is. Or when it turns into despair -- my giving up on even trying because my desires are deemed impossible to fulfill. My husband is wholly dedicated to me. I have four children who, despite all my faults, think I'm pretty great. I have relatives who are happy to see me when I visit. I have friends who miss me and hug me hello when they see me. And yet, I still find myself in the shadows sometimes, hearing that voice, "Nobody needs you. You do not belong here. You mess everything up. They would be better off without you. Why do you even try? Why do you bother to pray? You cannot make any difference. Nobody needs you. If you left today, they would get over it eventually. Your life is meaningless."
And now I am completely exposed once again. I am not a soldier. I am not a bird. Not today. Everyone reading this is thinking, "Get this woman some help." But these are shadows, just passing things. Most of the time, I am doing alright. Most of the time, I am really pretty great. Most of the time, I am not depressed, not feeling down about myself, not crying my eyes out, not clinging to a person I hardly know, not raging at God. Most of the time -- and I'm saying like 87% here -- I'm a lovely person to be with and I like myself and life is wonderful. Most of the time, the sun is shining on my face and I am smiling. But life is a series of cycles.
I have recognized once again that I have a high need for security. I long to be protected, accepted, safe. This may seem odd since I am chronically exposing myself as a vulnerable being. You would think I would hide all my vulnerability and not let anyone in. You would think I would not let anyone know anything about myself and that maybe I would take up some form of escapism on a regular basis. I have my moments of escaping...into my dreamworld of my thoughts, into the warmth of a bubble bath, into the clarity of my writing, into the pounding rhythm of my music when driving in the car, the the comfortable quiet of my room when the kids are watching videos. But it's like I need someone else to protect me, accept me, and make me feel safe. My husband does all these things for me. I thought I was over this need. So why do I find myself still looking for it? Why do I find myself in the shadows, hearing that voice, "You are not worth the trouble. No one wants to bother with you. No one wants to deal with all your emotional needs. You are not good enough for anyone to want to endure. You deserve to have everyone walk out on you. Accept it -- you are completely alone."
I have recognized once again that I have a high need for consistency. I like order and I don't like change. Even when I know the change will be a great thing in my life, I face it with nervous anxiety. I am uncomfortable with the unknown. It is not all that exciting to me. It is dark and mysterious in an intimidating way. And that's why Flip is dark and mysterious and intimidating. And maybe too that's why Tanya longs for him to come around and help her feel protected and accepted and safe -- to prove that he really is an okay guy after all. Tanya does not give up. She has hope. She walks through the shadows and she perseveres and she is triumphant -- at least in the first version. She does not hear that voice, "You have to change in order to be okay. You have to change in order to be acceptable. You have to change because nobody likes you the way you are." See, change is a negative there. Even when I know it's good for me, I feel like I have to change only so I can stop being all the bad things that I am.
I have recognized once again that I have a high need to be needed. I like to feel like I have a place in the world. I like to feel that my life matters somehow. I am a very dedicated person. That's a good thing most of the time. It's a bad thing when it turns into stubbornness -- my trying to get what I want no matter how improbable it is. Or when it turns into despair -- my giving up on even trying because my desires are deemed impossible to fulfill. My husband is wholly dedicated to me. I have four children who, despite all my faults, think I'm pretty great. I have relatives who are happy to see me when I visit. I have friends who miss me and hug me hello when they see me. And yet, I still find myself in the shadows sometimes, hearing that voice, "Nobody needs you. You do not belong here. You mess everything up. They would be better off without you. Why do you even try? Why do you bother to pray? You cannot make any difference. Nobody needs you. If you left today, they would get over it eventually. Your life is meaningless."
And now I am completely exposed once again. I am not a soldier. I am not a bird. Not today. Everyone reading this is thinking, "Get this woman some help." But these are shadows, just passing things. Most of the time, I am doing alright. Most of the time, I am really pretty great. Most of the time, I am not depressed, not feeling down about myself, not crying my eyes out, not clinging to a person I hardly know, not raging at God. Most of the time -- and I'm saying like 87% here -- I'm a lovely person to be with and I like myself and life is wonderful. Most of the time, the sun is shining on my face and I am smiling. But life is a series of cycles.
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