Viewing entries tagged
2013
The Mr. and I talking yesterday about a house for sale on one of the lakes we wouldn't mind living on for life:
me: "We should buy it."
him: "Yea, we should. I mean, we can't afford the down payment. Or the monthly mortgage payment. But that's it."
me: "We should do it anyway. We could make it work."
him: "Yea. And it'd be awesome."
me: "Yea doggy! Can we get a puppy first? Ooo, or a truck? We'd need the truck to get our boat into the lake ..."
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We've been daydreaming lately in our good moments.
But, we've been angry and crying in our bad ones. Avoidant and numbed in our worst.
We've never felt this trapped before. This helpless. This hopeless.
The "next best thing" seems really, really far away ... and maybe not even ours for the making or the taking.
We're exhausted. Mad at ourselves for the lives we've made. We love each other. We love God. But, damn, the rest is pissing us off. Disappointing us. Confusing the heaven out of us.
Part of us knows this is a season — one of growing and stretching and transformation and acceptance — but the other part of us is threatened by the headaches and tears in our eyes and dark clouds surrounding.
But, it is what it is. All we have is now. Today, in all it's crap and occasional care, is pregnant with the promises and power of tomorrow.
Maybe we're just having a crappy first trimester?*
One can hope. Maybe. At least in our good moments ...
LOVE.
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*I am NOT pregnant. It's a metaphor people.
I have NEVER wanted to do public speaking.
Actually, that's not true, I HAVE wanted to it. I've wanted talking to a group to come easily and naturally, fluid even. To exude confidence in self and topic? I have wished for it. Like most introverts, I've had my moments of wishing I were an extrovert, jealous of those who can command an audience, certain that life would be easier if I, too, could always know the exact thing to say in the best way at the perfect time. Oh, to not be too terribly introspective and awkward ....
But, alas, my lot in life is that of an introvert and my greatest fear (after spiders) remains putting myself out there and doing any and all versions of public speaking. I don't want to do it. I don't dream of succeeding at it. I've accepted my limitations. And I don't want to do it. Ever.
I want to do other things. Travel. Write. Concept. Play. Earn. Love.
I'm just not sure I get to do any of the other stuff if I don't grow some balls and step out of my box and quit the comfort zone. I have to kick the downsides of my introversion to the curb. I have to stop my clamoring for low-profile. I have to quit being timid in my uncertainty. I can't continue or succeed with a sense of low self-worth and diminished self-confidence.
“Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.”
So, Monday evening, I'm going to go speak to a group. I'm going to speak about myself and my profession and my thoughts on being about the business of change. And I don't want to do it. I've been a basketcase in prep for the past several days. I'm terrified. The shame tape is playing, repeating just how certain I am that what I have to offer isn't good enough, clear enough, etc. That terrifies me. But, I'm going to do it. Succeed or fail, I'm going to do it ...
Because I want to do other things.
Wish me luck? :)
LOVE.
I woke up on the wrong side of the bed.
Maybe it was a result of my sleeping thoughts. I mean, I know I dreamt about getting pregnant despite the impossibility of it happening. I dreamt about having to end the pregnancy. I felt awful about all of it in the dream. Maybe I've brought forward into my waking life the emotional wreckage of my unconscious mind.
Maybe.
Regardless, it's one of those mornings where I just despise myself. I feel a failure and disdain for the "have tos" and the "maybe laters" of life. I don't want to do freelance. I don't want to exit my comfort zone to put myself out there for the slim possiblity of getting a client referral. I don't want to exercise and eat right. I DON'T WANT TO. Life, would you just leave me the f- alone? Can it feel easy again, just once? Life texts back with a resounding "NO!" and it stings. So, this morning, I've been short and disrespectful with my husband. I'm irrationally annoyed by everything going on around me. I'm mean. I'm sabatoging another's joy. And I don't know how to stop doing it. So, I'm shaming myself for being this darker version of myself.
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But, my dearest love, in my idiocy I am still wise to your beauty. The giddiness you unashamedly express at new discovery and talent ... I envy it. It puts in sharp contrast my timidity and fear. I love how you speak your thoughts out loud as you click around on the web. You haven't yet let my darkness overwhelm your heart. God, may it never. You hum. It's unrestrained. Regular. Baffling to the parts of me that are hard. I certainly do not deserve you and the ways you forgive me over and over and over again. Thank you for playing "MmmBop" like it wasn't random and for not pushing "stop" just because I rolled my eyes. You are the best thing. God, help me to care better for the glory you've given.
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Love.
Sometimes it feels like my "job" is to point out the obvious.
For a few seconds at the beginning of my counseling career, I felt like a shyster — taking money for noting out loud what seemed blatantly obvious. But when, with client after client, what I saw as "obvious" was declared a "lightbulb moment" for them, I began to not only value the service I offered, but to wonder at the phenomenon itself.
What I've come to realize is that we humans have an amazing capacity for NOT putting two and two together. It doesn't matter who you are — genius, successful, experienced, educated or not — you miss something. Lots of somethings. It's like we walk around with blinders on.
I'm no exception. Case and point:
I've always known I was a "southpaw." But, until last Friday, I thought eating and writing were the only things I did with my left hand. Turns out I brush my teeth left-handed, too. It took me more than 30 years to note something I've been doing for more than 30 years. Crazy, right? The discovery came out of a casual discussion with my in-laws about my left-handedness. Someone probed me about my habits and, forced to think about it, I was astonished by what I discovered.
Lest you think these moments of epiphany must be few and far between, I shall astonish you with another story of astonishment from this past week:
Last Sunday, I was cruising the Costco aisles with my parents (yup, #merica) when some dried mango caught my eye. I think I hugged a bag to my chest and regaled my father with a story of culinary courtship. My dad grabbed the bag from me, slid his eyes over the label and muttered, "Huh, sulfur dioxide. Bet it makes you fart." I laughed. We put it in the cart. I've been munching on it all week. And ... wait for it ... yup, I've been visiting the bathroom a little more than usual all week.
So, turns out dad was right. Sulfur dioxide should not be consumed by humans. Today, thinking back on his utterance in the aisle, I realize that my beloved dried mango messes with my stomach. There's a correlation. And thinking back on the past couple of months since I first discovered said mango, the mango has ALWAYS messed with my stomach. There's ALWAYS been a correlation. I just don't know that I would have seen it had my dad not mentioned sulfur dioxide.
Needless to say, I tossed out the rest of the mango today.
Anyway, the point? I think we all do a lot of things out of habit. Whether it's muscle memory or instinct or learned behavior, we do a lot without thinking about it. We don't always connect the dots. That's not inherently a bad thing ... at all ... but it can be. That's where I think therapy can be helpful — in the cluing us in and clarifying of things.
No, you certainly don't need to know that you brush your teeth with your left hand or that mango makes you fart. However, it may help you to know
... that you're attracted to chaotic relationships because that's what you grew up navigating.
... that being uncomfortable is comforting to you and that that's why you sabotage anything good in your life.
... that you eat excessively (or starve) because food is the one thing in life you've ever felt you had any power/control over.
... that you drink alcohol to avoid being socially awkward because being socially awkward makes you feel what you've always felt and believed about yourself — that you're alone and unworthy of love and attention.
... that [insert your story here] ...
All of it, any of it, might help you to know that change is possible.
I think therapy is a lot about that stuff — the exploration of what we do and why we do it and why it matters. More importantly, therapy is about the hope generated by the exploration — a brand new opportunity to respond accordingly, to begin again ... to be transformed.
Awareness is a requisite first step toward change. So, here's to taking the blinders off?
Love.
"Is it crazy that I'm having separation anxiety when he leaves the house?"
That's the text I got last week from a very newly married friend. My response? "If you're crazy, then book me residence at the funny farm … 'cause I STILL get a little bit sad every time the Mr. leaves for work!"
And it's true. I miss him when we're apart. I still love sharing the couch with him as we wind down the day. I still feel like saying "I love you" doesn't even begin to cover the feelings. I can't explain the overwhelming urge I have to punch the people in the face who don't treat him like the incredible man that he is. I'm a little resentful of the events that require his time on our weekly designated day off together. Still. Sometimes in increasing measure.
I have a best friend that I know I can be real with … and, well, that's just the best thing EVER.
This guy is better than I could have imagined. He's more supportive than I can fathom. And he's so wonderfully talented and capable in all the ways I'm not. The point? This love thing? The partnership? The becoming one in Christ? It's bewildering and I'm blessed.
May my gratitude always glorify the One who got us together and by (and in) Whose grace we'll stay together and love one another and others well.
I slept in AGAIN today. While I did, the Mr. was up and prepping for his day — which, along with heading to do a shift at his THIRD job, included setting up a Valentine's Day floral surprise for me!
Dear Mr., you are unbelievably good at making me feel special and loved. I am blessed beyond measure to be the one that gets to do life with you. With love and prayers for many, many more years of being your "valentine" ... — Me