The Digging

Assumptions fly like birds into a glass window
Shake it off, try not to do the same thing again.
Yet they keep slamming into the glow
Of her heart;  she tries relentlessly to train
her mind to not take it personal, not cry
It's about them, not you, they say
But, like the glass, the logic hits and cannot sway.
Like the bird, she stammers and shakes her head
Where is she? Where am I? How am I so low to the ground?
Where was I headed, I cannot remember now
A moment has passed? Maybe a thousand
It seems she is always frowning.

Rise up
Rise up
See where you are
Take steps, find the grass, look up
Up to where you came from
Then around to before your heart was undone

Rise up
Look, see where you are
Look up
It isn't far
Undone, no-respun
Feathers knit together
Healed, birdfeather

I've had to dig to plant our garden seeds. They took a long time to grow. Longer than all the websites say they should.  And that's kind of like my life.  I haven't matured the pace many do.  They say when you get addicted at a young age, you stop maturing emotionally.  So, while my friends were getting married and having kids and being the awesome moms they are, full of wisdom from caring for children, I didn't grow up until my late 30s.  Even then, my responses were slow and immature.

I had a daughter, yes, but I didn't have a husband to bring some balance to my racing, spinning thoughts and my impulsive responses.  I did eventually gain that in recovery, through others in recovery.  But, even in my 40s, I still feel like a little tantrum throwing child.  I never got delayed gratification and I expect to get my way, all the time and right now.  I expect women to stand by me, guide me, love me through my faults.  We all know that isn't the way it goes.  Sometimes, for some.

But, somehow, it is okay. I do have a Creator, a Lover, a Healer, a Protector.  Though the process has been slower for me than others, this Lover has helped me.  Others didn't.  Pastors didn't.  Other believers in the same One, they didn't.  Oh, they thought they were.  That's okay too.  "The enemy will use the ones you love the most to reinforce his lies." Boom. May it go deep into our soul, my soul.

Monday, May 7th.  Our first morning without our Whiskers.  I went to get the food out of the fridge, out of habit.  Then started bawling.  I took the can and emptied in the trash and banged it against the side to get it to come out with the spoon, just like I did every morning with the leftover food that was not eaten.  He had always been finicky about food and a very light eater.  The bang on the trash made my heart burst in my chest.

I walked out to read and write on the patio.  His little body would meet me at the door to go outside.  The vet said not to let him out because he already had leukemia when we got him and we didn't want to infect other cats.  Having indoor/outdoor cats my whole life, I did let him into our backyard every day.  He would chatter at the birds.  He was too weak to actually attack but he sure would pretend.  Every morning I'd pick him up, rub noses, mugger him and put him down to go out before I would go out.  His fur was so soft.  Such a huge difference from when we found him.

We came home from our thrice annual visit to California and found him behind our patio couch.  He was matted and tiny.  We thought he was a kitten because he was so small.  His eyes were almost shut and when he went to meow, nothing came out.  His teeth were missing and he had a limp.  I was in the middle of recovering from Post Partum Depression and could barely manage caring intentionally for my kids so I was afraid to bring him in, making him ours.  My oldest had been praying and begging us for a cat so indeed, I did.

We took him in and the vet didn't think he would last long.  I knew it would be me caring for him.  2 kids, post partum, my husband at work all day, another living being.  I didn't think I could.  But, I didn't want to let him die.  And sure enough, I was the one who cuddled and fed him.  He won me over.  Someone said yesterday "you loved him, you just didn't show it".  That caused me so much pain.  I certainly could have shown him more.  Always.  But I cuddled him daily.  I picked him up at least 10xs a day.  If he seemed uncomfortable, I put him on my chest and looked into his eyes to communicate I loved him. Most cats don't keep eye contact long, but he sure did.

It was exactly as I feared.  He was more needy than I could give.  I needed to love fully on my kids.  I needed to be present with my human being children. He yowled a lot.  Not just a "give me some attention" meow, but long yowling.  I'd feed him, more yowling.  I'd cuddle him, he would still yowl.  I would play with him, too weak I guess.  Yowl.  But, I did my best.

Of course, I miss that yowl the most.  I beat myself for being annoyed that he pooped on the carpet by the piano for the 20th time when my 1 year old had just exploded poop all over her clothes, crib and self.  He couldn't help it.  I didn't know that.  I wasn't even mad at him.  I was mad that I couldn't handle it.  I should have been able to.  I was given a gift and could only get annoyed at his voice and poop.  And now he's gone and I can't ever get that back.

Love your family.  Love the beings brought into your life, fully.

Today, I finally was able to do this workout all the way through.  The entire video.  To say this, seems silly because I used to teach this format at least twice a week for several years.  I was a full-time fitness instructor.

When I first started, I really believed that you should push through discomfort when working out.  Until I started working with seniors and one of them hurt themselves following that advice.  I still believed it for those who weren't seniors.  That is, until I had complete adrenal fatigue because I continued to push myself and not only could not work out hard, but could not get out of bed.

When I was a Bible believing, committed Christian, I believed that people who got divorced just didn't try enough, or didn't have enough hope in God to restore their marriage.  I believed taking medication for mental illness was a lack of faith.  I had other ideas as well.  Until I was divorced without choosing to be.  I didn't want to divorce and would have stayed married until death. Until I could not manage my own life and had to be on medication temporarily to not want to die or be raging for no reason.

Most of my life, I have believed "If I can do it, so can you."  That is not always untrue.  It is not always true though.  I think most of us have that judgment if we're honest with ourselves.  I had a highly religious leader proudly declare that they don't use birth control and made snide comments about other moms who did stating that they (the one person) "trust God fully" with their bodies.  This person never had a miscarriage that threatened their very life.  Of course that's what they'd believe the way they do.  Meanwhile, they are shut down and avoidant emotionally but by golly, they would NEVER use birth control, or send their kids to school.  Applause please.

I broke my back falling off a cliff years ago.  I was told I would have trouble giving birth, would lose 30% hip mobility, not be able to run full speed and not be able to bend and touch my toes.  I was like "watch me!" (In my head, not out loud).  A few years later, I had a true spiritual and bodily healing and combined with my refusal to give up, none of those predictions are true.  So, I figured I had a right to push people harder in their life and workouts.  I overcame long term addiction (may it continue Blessed Be His Name), so I figured anyone can and not only that, they shouldn't complain about what I considered trivial things.

But, who am I to decide what's trivial and what people's bodies are telling them? I know this is not just me. I had a fitness instructor, on the heels of my Post Partum Depression, and finding out I had hypothyroidism (among many other ailments that hit me after the birth of our youngest and 3 miscarriages after), proudly state that she "also has hypothyroid issues and she gets right out there and keeps going."  Um, you didn't birth a baby at 41, (she's in her 30s), you have never dealt with PPD or had a miscarriage, so be quiet.  But we don't.  Some of you do.  My gosh, I love you.  I need to be more like you.  You show tact and grace and understanding and you keep your mouth shut when it's best to do so.  You are a breath of fresh air and we all love you.

I can't believe I have been so harsh in my judgments but guess what? I'm that harsh with myself.  When I had my youngest, I was utterly shocked that I had PPD.  I assumed it was random and related to circumstance.  Here I was in a fabulous marriage, new home, new car, good community, and still depressed and unable to make myself feel better.  I know Scripture.  I know God.  I have heard all the damn cliches.  So, I was really hard on myself and made it worse by "shoulding" all over myself.  I was suicidal and ashamed that I would even go there.  Harsh.  Judging.

Then, I had a miscarriage and within 3 months, lost my entire community.  Gone.  No reason.  My oldest daughter lost her best friend.  Just like that.  I blamed myself.  If only I did more, said more, was less convicted so I wouldn't be labeled legalistic.  I made my anxiety worse.  I didn't grieve the miscarriage either because I was too busy grieving the community loss.

Then, I miscarried again. Twins.  I don't even have words.  It's so debilitating, losing a child.  The other loss came rushing back and thankfully, we grieved this time.  But, I kept shaming myself for it taking so long.  Shaming myself for not working out more.  Shaming myself for gaining so much weight while simultaneously not being able to gain my sanity.  Shame. Shame. Shame.  Should. Should. Should.  If only I were more...fill in the blank.  Maybe I had been sinful or disobedient somehow, maybe this was all punishment.  More of the same shame and judgment. 

But today, I celebrated what would be to some, a small insignificant victory.  To some, it may seem like going backwards.  To me, today, I am not shaming or should-ing.  Just rejoicing.  Rejoicing to have energy.  Rejoicing to have thoughts back.  Rejoicing to be strong again.  I chose to continue to try.  I chose to let people have their own process without judging.  I chose to continue to be vulnerable even when rejected.  It may take a whole lot more smack downs, but the choice is mine.

Painting Pictures of Egypt

 Kindness within Restraint: Chesed she-be-gevurah

"Sometimes we have to distance someone from our lives." (R. Haber, 2008) We all have those relationships where we wonder why we stay in them. There is that one friend who consistently shows their inconsideration, their inability to communicate, or their ability to communicate disrespectfully.  Sometimes it is co-workers and your job is then in question, that is a tough spot to be in when you feel a knot in your stomach every time you go into work. 

I started to feel that some time ago, the knot in my stomach every time I got in the car to go to this particular place with a particular group.  This went on for over a year actually.  I didn't want my daughter to suffer any more loss, though she had been judged and left out many times.  I loved this group from my very core and I knew if I stopped attending, I would lose the relationship (first indicator).  I chalked up the behaviors I was noticing that hurt me, to them having rough times, and I wanted to show patience and grace (something I need a lot of work on and here was a chance to exhibit it). Yet, I kept feeling dismissed.  Overlooked. Judged.  Misinterpreted. Gossiped about.  Put up with.  Those are all familiar feelings so I figured I just needed to plow through, get grateful, think the best, dismiss the lies in my head and keep going. 

Until one day I decided to test something.  I had felt that I was the only one putting effort into the relationship (another indicator).  So, I stopped calling.  I stopped texting.  I continued to attend and offer rides and so on.  That's when it fell apart.  I got ghosted.  I've posted about that before.  I should have known that would happen, that's why I tested it in the 1st place.  Yet, I was still so surprised and hurt.  I remember what was the final conversation for me. 

The person had someone else call for them, they did not have the decency to speak to me directly, after years of what I considered an intimate relationship.  That person spoke at me for 45 minutes about how I hurt the other person.  It was during this time that I had a miscarriage, the 1st one.  I had just had it not even 3 months ago and this person never even asked how I had been doing after the initial news.  They also never asked my perspective.  Perhaps I was hurting too? Nope, didn't matter.  You know exactly what I mean don't you? That's when I knew for sure. 

Normally, I am all about communicating exactly what you think and feel.  I do almost too often and it weeds people out of my life that I may have actually wanted in my life.  In this case, I showed restraint. I didn't argue back and defend myself or even bring up the abandonment on a deep level I felt.  Abandoned in my time of need.  You may have never had a miscarriage but I'm sure there has been other deep wounds that caused a major shaking. 

Why did I not share?  Simply: they didn't ask.  Ever.  "It is a mitzvah to refrain from saying anything if you know they won't listen to you, or will get upset." (R. Haber, 2008) A mitzvah is a good deed.  Do not throw your pearls before swine.  Not that anyone is swine, I am not trying to be mean.  It's an analogy and they'd already shown me in the months before that their hurts and issues were more important than mine and that mutual respect, if there ever was any, was gone. People who respect you and have healthy boundaries will speak directly to you.

Kindness with restraint is about boundaries I think.  I love Henry Cloud and John Townsend's books and podcasts on boundaries but there are tons of resources out there if you find you continue to allow yourself to be belittled.

Here are some of the things to look for in someone who is to keep close:

Do they check in with you?
If you communicate a need, do they follow up with it?
Do they ask you questions about your heart and life?
Do they listen when you respond or do they start then talking over you about their life?
Do they know how to "be with you" in pain without offering advice and cliche's?
Do they do a whole bunch of outward things for you but don't know your heart?

These are just some ideas.  And, sometimes it doesn't mean they should be cut off, they just don't need an intimate place in your life.  You are worth fighting for.  No matter your character defects, you deserve healthy people in your life. 


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