Ta Da! I Am Still Alive!

It has been awhile since I have felt like sitting down and writing anything here. There are a variety of reasons. Not all of them negative. Mostly time passing faster than I suspected mixed in with a dash of boredom with my ownself. I was getting too down and out when writing. Self-confession and introspective drama only stretches so far before sickening me. I'm not saying I have been wrong. I am saying I have been enough on the side of serious thinking. Lethal for a recovering alcoholic. Oh how seriously I take myself, myself, myself...! Bleh! Best to remember that I am one among many and have so far not found one single thing unique about myself other than, of course, my DNA. So when I blow myself up to a huge proportion of anything I have stepped over the danger line. I mean, really!

So, I have these four cats. I don't even know which of me decided to take in four cats. It could not have been the practical me. (I do too have some practical part, smarty friends!) It certainly could not have been the part of me that grasps reality from time to time. I think, because they came into my life one at a time, that it was the mothering part of me. Yes, maternal instincts were dominant in each case. Four cats. I love them all. I wanted a dog. You can see that the maternal me was undoubtedly confused four times in a row. Imagine that! Stray animals and stray people are my achilles heel. One of the cats acts a little like a dog, which is kind of him. He must intuitively know that he should have been a dachsund. Darn! It  isn't as if I can just let them go or give them back. I don't want to for one thing...the main thing. Four cats!! Is you crazy?

Mr. Owl has been gone for awhile now. I resent progress as trees fall and roads are built. The bunny rabbits and the squirrels and the owls and the little foxes disappear. I want to stand in the middle of the woods and scream, "NO!", but they have big bulldozers and scary looking men wearing hard hats and I am a 62 year old activist without a cause other than I miss my animal friends. Mr. Owl was my true friend. I pray he is happy and finding mice in abundance.

Back to work in a few minutes. Then time to feed the cats and sit and wonder what I am going to avoid doing for the remainder of the day.

Being Pathetic Is Boring

Enough of this tomfoolery! It is time to rise up and reclaim myself from the ashes of the most recent crash and burn event in the life of my family. There has been collateral damage this time. I suppose family events rarely remain the property of those in the midst of the fray. For years I have accepted this as a normal response to trouble in the family. It becomes overwhelming when an inordinate share of that trouble seems to come from my side of the family. Unfortunately I have participated in bemoaning, verbally running down and judging my own situations allowing family members the privilege of judging, advising and generally degrading the events in my life that are less than savory and there are many when I include my children and my spouses along with myself. I recently realized that I am sick and tired of the low self-esteem and self-degradation I have decided were rightfully earned. I realized I have participated in creating those for myself. I now realize I don't want to feel that way anymore. I have compared myself to people in my family who appear to have "it together". I have felt less than for too long. A dear friend told me recently that I am good enough just like I am and to be myself and not worry about other people's opinions of me. She gave me a sense of freedom that has taken root and blossomed. I am a good person. I love deeply. My immediate family's life has been difficult through the years. I have enabled and I have done tough love and I have been stupid enough to share every moment of my fears and angers with other family members. This has created a sense of ownership in them that is not healthy for them or for me. Why I just woke up to that I do not know. Now I am working on losing the resentment I feel and to accepting my part in creating an environment that looks and smells an awful lot like superiority and feels an awful lot like humiliation. Today I have come round the bend in recognizing that this has taken place over a long period of time and that my family members do love and care for us deeply. I can see why they are concerned and I can see how I have given permission for that to become the passing of judgement in my mind based on their opinions. I am such a twit. 62 years old and waking up a piece at a time. Not saying that the problems exisiting today in the world of my family are o.k. or that I approve or that I have responded in a psychologically healthy way or that I can even grasp them. Just saying that I don't want to appear pathetic in my own skin anymore. I am who I am and God is changing that at a pace I have to run to keep up with these days. Being pathetic is boring and exhausting and in a way it is yet another form of ego run riot. I love all of my extended family very much. I just don't want to hang my laundry out on them to dry anymore. I don't want to pretend or explain or pretty up who I am and what happens in my life. I kinda think I painted myself with this brush of shame and inadequacy. I compared myself and found myself lacking. I who know so intimately how much my Father God loves me have taken on the form of ugly and unloveable for myself. The truth is the truth. Me and mine are messy people. I am not ashamed of that anymore for some reason that I cannot explain. See, I told you God is changing me even before I catch up to the change. I am truly bored with this pathos. The old saying, "It's not my brother, not my sister but it's me, oh Lord, standing in the need of prayer." about says it all. I will no longer participate in my own degradation and humiliation. That war is over. Praise God!

Life Is Just A Chair of Bowlies

I am in the mood to quote some of the words from a David Allan Coe song. It is one of my favorite songs which in no way infers that I remember the name of the song but I do know these lyrics and they represent just a bit of what I am feeling today. I may be the only person to understand the correlation but that is good enough for me. So here are part of the lyrics of the song I love so much:

"Well I was drunk the day my mom got out of prison
And I went to pick her up in the rain
But before I could get to the station in the pick-up truck
She got runned over by a damned old train

 

And I'll hang around as long as you will let me
And I never minded standin' in the rain
And you don't have to call me darlin', darlin'
You never even called me, well I wondered why you don't call me?
Why don't you ever call me by my name?"

Reading these lyrics I wonder how in the heck they fit but they do and that is about it. The last couple of days have been brutal. Simply brutal. I don't want to drink but I don't mind a song about drinking.

Peace out!

BUSTED

Life is difficult, which Scott Peck states as the first sentence of his book that I don't feel like looking up the name of at this moment. I read the book, more than once, and have heard that one sentence quoted over and over again as if that thought in itself must be brought to our attention again and again. We know that life is difficult. Why does the statement that life is difficult provide such a  galvanizing moment when brought to our attention? The room gets quieter, some eyes water with tears, heads nod in solemn agreement. A presence of wisdom settles over the listener, the release of an unrealistic expectation that life were any other way is permissible. The truth is out. Life is difficult.

As if that were not enough in itself I, (don't know about you), make decisions on a daily basis that increase the probablity of difficulty. Confession is good for the soul and I could use a little "good for the soul" stuff so I will list a few of my "guaranteed to ensure difficulty" choices. Either you will find yourself in this or you will feel a sense of relief that you are not bent on proving Mr. Peck's statement beyond a shadow of a doubt.

1. I stay up late. O.K. I got to bed early. Early in the a.m. Often just before sunrise. New studies show that is one of the worst health habits I can choose. I would deny that I choose it but I would have to undo a million sentences I have made regarding personal choice. Not going to try to defend myself. Going to try to change this one. The evidence puts me squarely in the same grouping with people who smoke a pack a day after having been told they have emphysema and cancer is just a thought away. Busted.

2. I am overweight. No, I am, by medical standards, obese. Which, guess what, ties back into the lousy sleeping habits. Scientifically proven at this point. Obesity sucks. The word sounds nasty like something a school kid would say to gross out their friends. Busted.

3. I don't exercise. I have my reasons. Health reasons mostly and they are valid but not to the extent of inertness which has become my choice. Oh, I do hate the "choice" word! I want to exercise. Guess what lack of motivation to exercise ties back into...lack of sleep.

4. Poor eating habits - nuff said. Ties back into lack of sleep.

5. Neglecting to practice techniques for reducing stress in my life. Truth is I doubt I can make the stress go away but I can choose situations to lessen the effects of stress. Stress management. Guess what adds to stress and neglect and depression and feelings of hopelessness. LACK OF SLEEP!

That is enough confession. I can't say that my sould feels good at the moment. I will say that I write about myself to be transparent to anyone reading and to myself.

Why would an intelligent woman of 62 years of age continue to choose one habit that impacts every other part of her life dramatically? Life is difficult. Apparently that is not good enough for me. I seem to be reaching for a higher degree of difficulty. And, oh dear me, guess what? The less I sleep the more difficult it is for me to make an effective change. Viscious cycle. No excuses. Well, restless legs do hamper me from time to time. No, I do not want some chesse with that whine!

It is 11 p.m. I am going to bed. Five hours earlier than I went to bed last night or the night before. If you happen to read this blog I will report how I find myself after a week of going to bed at 11 p.m. What if I should feel competent and clear-headed with less of a craving for over-eating and the energy to exercise a wee bit? What if the fog clears up and I can see the horizon and call it good?

Good-night, sweet friends!

TAKING A SHORT BREAK.....

I've been sick of late. I am on steroids for a few more days. On steroids I kinda think like this:

 

 

 

so you can see my point!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



 



Just another blog

Naming each and every post becomes an ardous task for me. Normally days have passed since my last post. Life has happened, as it does to us all, in ups, downs, u-turns, aha moments; the options are limitless. Defining a blog when I have no defining point is exhausting. It reminds me of the song I learned years ago that is a girl singing to her mother and her mother replying. There is a French phrase in here. If I botch it I should confess that I skipped fully two-thirds of my French class my senior year. I passed that class. We were in Taiwan at a large school with teen-agers from all over the world. I remember very little of any specific class. French is memorable because I chose, for a reason lost to me now, to purposefully skip class. I digress. Defining a blog when I have no defining point reminds me of this song:

Girl: When I was just a little girl I asked my mother what would I be? Would I be pretty? Would I be rich? Here's what she said to me.

Mom: Que cera cera! Whatever will be will be. The future's not ours to see, que cera cera! What will be, will be.

And so I am tonight in the middle of a "Que cera cera!" blogging mood. There is no specific title. My life has been arbitrary, meandering and threading in and out of mind sets and life situations. I have had days of great personal emotional challenges when I found myself wondering if the all too common "mental illness" in my dad's side of the family has finally found me. At that time I honestly wanted to hide away and, if it wouldn't cause too much of a commotion, die. The emptiness, lonliness, self-criticism and absolute sense of abject failure feel too heavy to bear. At those times I find it difficult to share myself with someone else. I recognize that it is an intensely self-absorbed time and I cannot bear the platitudes, solutions, off-handedness that folks often toss out at times like that in my life so I don't tell anyone. At times like that I don't trust anyone with myself. I feel as if my skin is raw and the stakes are so high. My saving grace is that I do continue with my social life and attendance at church and working and care taking of my loved ones. I continue though I feel as if I cannot move and that I am bleeding out from a severe wound. The best cure is an opportunity to help someone else who is in a situation that requires me to focus outwardly. So I had that going on for a time and an opportunity appeared and I took it and felt better.

Dramatically different is the time I spend with my grandson. It is magical time for me. Our relationship transcends tiredness, worries, dark thinking or anything other than joy. I am so grateful for this child in my life. I have three other grandchildren who are my heart and when I am around them I feel that same sense of joy. I cannot express it in words other than to say I have found nothing more powerful in my life excepting the love of God. They are all growing up. That is o.k. This Friday night a friend of mine and I went to a local fort to hear a local zydeco band play. Beautiful evening, an awesome friendship, folks in their lawn chairs with their children running and playing and then the zydeco music. The zydeco music begins to take hold of the listener. At first there is a moment of familiarity and satisfaction, then a few people start to dance on the grass, by the third song the children become overwhelmed by the impulse to dance and frolic in front of the stage. That is what got me last night. Two little girls who danced with their grandma and then with themselves. Joyous little girls who began sticking their tongues out at me and making faces when they realized I was photographing them. I could not resist getting closer to them. Next thing I knew I was dancing with them, spinning in circles, clapping, twirling, laughing and lost in the joy of child-like wonder. So I know my grandchildren are growing up and I cherish the years in between now and then and I also know that children will appear who will call out that child-like part of me from here until then.

Oh, the entire week or so has been, in the words of an elderly woman who use to say, "interesting" when new things or situations confounded her. Things have been "interesting".

And so, I will leave you, dear reader, with this:





That GOD Has Placed You In - He that hath ears to hear, let him hear!

 

 

 

Romans 12:10-13 (NIV)

Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves. Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality.