"I'm Sorry!"

Last week when Doc was slated to put in over a hundred hours at the hospital*, Gator came up to him late one night while he was lying on the floor, exhausted.

"I'm sorry, Daddy", Gator said.

"Sorry for what?" Doc asked.

"I'm sorry that I wanted us to stay here."

"Why?"

"Because you have to work so hard."

From the moment Doc mentioned that he was interested in the considerably more relaxed Transitional Year program near Boston as his first choice, Gator started praying that we wouldn't have to move. I mean, it was like a desperate mantra with him.

Worried about the fallout if we did end up matching elsewhere, I tried to steer his mind towards a more accepting attitude. "Sweetie, instead of praying that we won't have to move, why don't you pray that everything will work out how it is supposed to! That no matter what happens, we'll be happy and have the life experiences we need to have."

But Gator wasn't having any of that. Month after month, his constant prayer was that we wouldn't have to move. Nothing short of staying put was acceptable in his mind.

When we finally found out we staying here, Gator viewed it as a direct answer to his heartfelt prayers. That was one very happy moment in this kid's life.

And now we find out he feels personally responsible for the insane hours his poor daddy has to put in.

Grateful for:
1) My sweet boy's faith that God will answer his prayers.
2) My sweet Doc's way of handling the pressures he faces during difficult rotations. He's amazing.
3) My life here. I'd have been fine with an adventure somewhere else, but I really love living here.

* Note: Doc's resident called him and said they realized his hours were way over the legal limit, and told him to take the next day off. Major!!!

Touch Up

With summer in full-swing, it's that fantastic time of year my kids refer to as The Cousins Are Here!

Doc is the oldest of five kids who are all now married with kids, and we are the only ones with a mere two children. (Slackers!) The Cousins, as Bunch and Gator fondly refer to them, are some of definitely our kids favorite people in the world. They revel in Cousin-Time.

We've enjoyed visiting with them up at Doc's parent's home, and also had some stay with us in our home last week. It's been busy, crazy, fun, noisy, and fabulous.

Unfortunately I got sick and wasn't up for the trip north for more weekend fun, so my kids are there with aunties and uncles and cousins and grandparents, and needless-to-say, Doc is working. I'm feeling better today, but at this point I am just gearing up to head out for work.

So with my free morning, I finally had a chance to head back to Mack's salon for another hair appointment. It's been over three months since he first worked his magic on me, and it was time for a touch-up. Only this time there was no Gator at waiting at home to burst into tears upon my return. And this time I didn't have Mack dry and style it for me (he had a lot of clients waiting). Gotta learn to fly solo eventually! (Self portraits are so much fun!)



Grateful For:

1) Auntie Mish who has been such fun to have visit.
2) Stolen moments with Doc as he wrapped up his first rotation of the year. One down, twelve to go!
3) Possible IRL meet-up with a bloggy friend today...hope it happens!

Trust

I used to have a different blog. I had it long before anyone I knew had a blog, and I loved my blog. Then almost 4 years ago my childhood finally started to catch up to me, and as a matter of survival I sent a letter to my "upline" asking them to not contact me or my family any more, including reading my blog.

Perhaps it was because one of my siblings had stopped talking to them years before, without even a formal request for no contact, and they seemed to just let them peacefully go their own way, I assumed they'd oblige and respect my Official Request and I'd be off the hook, too.

That wasn't the first time I've been wrong. Won't be the last.

Where before he'd never followed my blog, suddenly my dad started leaving comments not only my blog, but Doc and Bunch's blogs, too. Before this time, he would maybe pick up the phone or write once a year (if that). He'd let my mom sign his name on just about every card I'd ever gotten for my birthday. I can only recall one gift that was specifically from him in my entire life...a set of white scriptures. He simply didn't bother with relationships.

Now suddenly he was doing anything he could (mail, email, phone) to contact me...all while never mentioning my letter.

(Which had been very clear, in as kind a way as I could put it, about why I needed to cut them off. If there is, in fact, a kind way to essentially divorce oneself from one's parents.).

His refusal to respect my request for no contact all while ignoring the matter entirely was maddening.

After a few weeks of this I reached breaking point and in vintage John Grisham style, I entered my own "blogger witness protection program". I abruptly abandoned my old blog, and any readers following it. I didn't write a final post, or offer any explanation. I simply "escaped", at a time when flight was really the only coping mechanism I could manage. I'd never been good at standing up for myself.

The next couple years were so free. This new blog became a haven for me. But like those in the witness protection program, I was a little paranoid of being discovered. I tried to be SO cautious, but one day, my biggest blog fear happened.

I was reading my site stats. Now, I know the habits of my readers. Most of you never click anything...and a two minute visit is impressive. But one night, someone had been on for hours and hours, reading every blasted page of my blog.

I felt gut-punched. I'm just not THAT interesting, and I know it. Then I looked at the location of this visitor. Strike two--my parents town. Looking up the ISP confirmed my worst fear: they'd found me. Or at least one of them had.

In a world with half a billion blogs at the time, I hadn't been too worried that they'd just stumble across it on their own. They're just not technically savvy. But (and you are welcome to laugh at me!) I naively trusted that even if they did somehow...as soon as they realized it was mine, they'd stop reading. You know, out of respect for my privacy, because, you know, I'd sent That Nice Letter.

I'm such an idiot at times!

I emailed them that night. It was my first contact with them in 2 years, but I confronted them and asked them to let me know if it wasn't them, because I was feeling kind of violated.

It took almost a month before I finally got a reply, and it was from my mother, who confirmed it was just her. She then apologized and said "I feel really sorry for that. Will you forgive me? I promise not to do it again without your permission."

I wanted to know how she found out about it. I asked repeatedly, but that question was avoided. Eventually I found out that it was my own carelessness in leaving a comment on my sister's blog without changing my name to "anonymous" so it was linked to my profile that was my undoing. My older brother's wife saw it, told him, who immediately fed the information to the parents.

And that's the story.

Though I don't trust the older brother or his wife who never agreed not to read it, for some reason I trusted my parents would do as they promised and not read my blog. I know you are probably thinking I am being ridiculous. "It's out there where the whole world can see it", some have told me. "It's asking a lot for them to not look at it when everyone else is allowed."

Still, old habits die hard, and in many ways I'm still that small kid who wants to believe their parents are trustworthy.

When I was five, I was digging around in the dirt one day when I found an old, rusty, odd-shaped hammer buried in the dirt in our yard. I was elated with this fantastic treasure...it was the neatest thing mother earth could have offered up in to me!

I have no idea why, but my little tool just seemed to need me to scratch my name, complete with backward letters, on the front of my mom's wooden dresser.

I had to oblige.

When she discovered what I'd done, I was in H.O.T. water. That spanking still stands out in my mind 35+ years later. It was epic. But thankfully she didn't take my beloved little hammer away from me, so I was able to scratch my name into my dad's dresser too! So they'd match, you see.

When she discovered second signature, not only did I lose my precious hammer for good, but we had a serious talk about trust, and how when it's broken, it "takes a really long time to regain it". She explained that she had lost her trust in me, which was very painful for my five-year old soul.

I've known for a while that they didn't keep their promise.

Known it, but I don't have it in me to pull up stakes and run away again like the last time. So I'm here for good. I still don't want them to read my blog, and every time it happens I feel a little further away from ever mending the situation. If I started over, it would only be a matter of time before I messed up and they found my new patch of cyberspace.

It's a small world, after all.

Grateful for:
1) That two year reprieve I enjoyed. I was able to heal and grow a lot during that time.
2) My new bloggy followers. Even if you never comment...I see that you've visited and that gives me warm fuzzies.
3) Doc finished his first of his 13 Transitional Year rotations today. It was a grueling one, but the next month won't be bad at all in comparison.

An Hour, Or A Day

Today I had a wonderful conversation with one of the angels in my life, who shared a story with me about a woman whose life had been ruined by some people. The woman was filled with hate for them, to the point that it was all-consuming and destroying her.

Recognizing the need to forgive them, the woman began to pray for help. For a long time, nothing changed, but then one day, as she put it, "I forgave them for one hour-but then I hated them for seven. Then another day I forgave them for three hours, and then hated them for two days. Eventually I forgave them for a whole day, but then hated them for a month. Sometimes that's how forgiveness works."

I cried as my angel told me this story.

Grateful for:

1. Not really ever hating my "upline". I'm most often just sad about the "what might have been" aspect (or, more accurately, who I might have been. They ruined a lot of things.)
2. Making peace with the fact that we don't have to keep caustic people close to us. Isn't that great?!
   
3. Stories that bless me with a new insight. I won't necessarily have one of those "and suddenly, it was just lifted from my shoulders and I was free" kinds of forgiveness experiences you hear about sometimes...most likely it'll continue to be just like this woman. An hour here, a day there.
   
   I'll take it!

♥

I Write

Sometimes I lose my words. Don't for a moment interpret that to mean I stop talking...alas, one aspect of my anxiety is that I talk MORE when I'm uncomfortable. But most of what I say is a nervous effort to fill the silence, because if it gets too quiet, I risk getting close to the inside of me.

Yesterday I attended a writer's retreat and one of the questions posed was "why do you write?"

There are lots of reasons people write, but my answer to that question is I write to heal. And I write to find out who I am.

In one short exercise we were asked to get quiet, close our eyes, allow an image come to us. So we did that, and then she told us to write about our image.

I don't know why I thought of the shower in my parent's bathroom when I was growing up, but I did. It was the scene of numerous painful experiences for me...and I've never really let myself get close to them.

The song "Glitter In The Air", which I had never heard before, was playing as we wrote, and I tried to capture and release that memory...to let it, too, become glitter in the air.

That is why I write.

Grateful for

1. Discovering the art of writing; I'd never thought of myself as a person with anything worth reading.
2. Meeting lots of my online heroes in real life for the first time. You're a source of continuous inspiration and insight. What a gift!
3. 2nd Annual Studio Night...I created something I've been planning to do for almost a year. I'll share it soon.
4. BONUS: Finding my words.

Scot-Free

Tendrils of steam drifted upward as streams of hot water raced down her body in the small, square shower. She was busy rinsing any trace of stubble from her dad’s Schick razor so he wouldn’t know she’d used it, when she heard the bathroom door handle jiggle. Instantly tense, she watched the lock give way and the handle twist all the way to the right.

"Ha!” she thought to herself as he tried several times to push the door open without success. She’d learned via prior experiences that the lock was worthless against intruders. By jamming a heavy chair from the dining room at an angle under the doorknob, she'd barricaded the door. It almost surprised her that it worked. After a few hard shoves with no luck, he pulled the door shut again, and left her to shower in peace.

She had just lathered up with soap when suddenly the entire door was pushed straight into the bathroom, crashing against the sink. He had removed it from the hinges…a possibility she’d never even considered. 

Shock from being out-smarted was fused with fury and fear. Shoving the chair out of the way, he approached the shower door. She could see his face, distorted by the frosted plexiglass, reveling with perverse pleasure in his torture of her. He’d won again.

“Get OOOOOOUT!” she screamed at him over and over while desperately clinging to the shower door handle to keep it closed. It was slippery business. He was not only stronger, but also had the advantage of being dry. And not naked.

Traumatized that he could see even her smudgy outline through the door, she managed to hold him off for several long moments all while praying he’d give up and just leave.

Suddenly, the thin panel of clear plexiglass that ran along side the door fractured, and a long crack appeared. “Now you’ve done it! You’re going to be in SO MUCH TROUBLE when mom and dad get home!” She was almost glad it had happened. He broke the shower!  Finally she had proof, hard evidence of his behavior. Surely he'd be punished this time!

Distracted by the broken side-panel, her focus on the door momentarily lessened, and with one great yank, he suddenly pulled it away from her.

Cowering down in the corner in a futile attempt to conceal herself from him, hot tears of rage mixed with water spraying down on her. He just stood there without a word, raking his smug eyes back and forth across her body.  “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! Get out of here!” she screamed endlessly, as the water gradually grew colder and colder.

Validation

Happy Thursday!
This is one of my all-time favorite shorts. Sending it out to all my awesome bloggy friends. Have a great day!!!



Grateful for:
1) You. You Are AWESOME!
2) Met a new insta-bestie at work this week. You never know when you wake up in the morning what treasures the day will hold.
3) Today Doc starts his Transitional Year...he's earning money again!!!!

Golden Nuggets

Whenever I spend time with a friend (and it doesn't matter whether it's in person or on the phone), inevitably there is a golden nugget that I take home from the experience that enriches my life or teaches me something new. I can scarcely think of a time this hasn't happened. There is always a take-away moment that makes my life better. I just have to look for it.

I love that about my friends!

Grateful for:
1) Being inspired to join a gym
2) Being inspired to start baking bread
3) Being inspired to create a home out of this house. Finally.

Boundaries

This is going to be a rather Stream of Consciousness post.

About 15 years ago while living in Chicago, I attended a class taught by a friend named Maci who was a social worker. Her lesson was on the subject of healthy boundaries, which was a concept I had never even heard of before that night. It was one of the most eye-opening discussions of my life to that point.

A healthy boundary is a space around yourself that gives you a sense of security and safety, where you feel supported, respected, and peaceful. I'd add that trust is one of the most important requirement for healthy boundaries to exist.

One of the most important things parents can do is to establish and maintain healthy and appropriate boundaries with their child, and within the relationships their child has with other people (friends, siblings, relatives etc.).

When this doesn't happen, a variety of symptoms occur, which I won't get into (visit Señor Google if you want more info), but in many cases children become "people pleasers"...which, as it turns out, is how I responded to my situation. Awesome!

We all know people pleasers...those who say "yes" when they mean "no" (or have no opinions in the first place), who are generally full of self-doubt, self-blame, shame, and humiliation. They go to great lengths to get love and approval from others, but no matter how much they get, they never feel loved or good about themselves. They take any criticism as fact, are more concerned with others' feelings than their own, and have an overdeveloped sense of responsibility, expecting of themselves magical abilities such as being able to fix the problems of important people in their lives (like their parent's marriage, for example. Which endeavor is made possible through the absence of healthy boundaries. As it turns out.)

I learned early in my life to bury my own feelings, needs, and wants (or to not have any feelings, needs or wants), and like your typical pleaser, I chronically confused attention (of any sort) with love, and self-sacrifice with caring for others.

Maci's class that night was life altering in that I was introduced to all the different kinds boundaries that exist, and how they impact our lives.

Most of us are savvy about appropriate physical boundaries and aren't going to let someone push, punch, kick, or hit us without trying to stop it. Emotional boundaries are also fairly easy to identify; you realize it's not okay to let people insult you, call you names etc. Harder to isolate (especially for a child) are mental boundaries, which involve knowing that you have the freedom to express your opinions and thoughts without being ridiculed or judged.

So Why Am I Talking About This Now?

I've been thinking about my response to various boundary violations in my life lately. As a child I was a complete doormat with people who crossed the line, but as an adult something changed in me.

The first time happened when I was about eighteen, and after years of putting up with a certain girl's , I just suddenly "snapped". I adopted a "life's too short to deal with you" attitude and annexed her from my life. Suddenly she had no power over me, because I didn't care about her or her life or opinion or anything about her any more". So there!

I felt completely justified at the time. And indeed, an important part of healthy boundaries is not letting people walk all over or abuse you. But what isn't part of it is any kind of retaliation or revenge. While I've never been the mean-spirited type, I do confess secretly hoping that other people would follow suit and shun her like I had...which I'm not proud of but I was young and naive at the time.

A few years passed before my next "snap" moment when I'd suddenly had enough. This time the person was a little closer to home, and while I didn't completely sever ties, something was deeply broken, and it has been a long process to repair it.

Then four years ago it happened again, and at the risk of sounding like a serial "fight or flight-er", I'll confess that this time it was my parents that I cut off. [gasp!]

At the time it was almost an act of self-preservation; having them in my life was so toxic for me that I was starting to spiral downward into a deep depression. One desperate night I finally sent an un-offensive as possible note requesting that they not contact me or my family any more. (I tried to cut them off nicely. You know, good old people-pleaser me )

As unexpected and shocking as this move was coming from me, you can't possibly imagine how liberating it was. I felt like a gajillion pounds of anxiety was lifted off my shoulders. I could finally breathe.

It took some time, but eventually I started to wonder if I would ever reconcile with them. I had no desire to (still don't), and was fine with where I was about the situation. After all, I had evolved to a better place than my eighteen year-old self in that I didn't wish them any ill-will. I genuinely wanted them to be happy and enjoy their lives (just without me in it). And I took precautions to not taint any relationships they have with people I'm friends with.

I've also spent endless hours and piles of money we don't have, working to supersede the things I've experienced. I'm trying to overcome the "disease to please" that is such an established habit, and develop healthy boundaries in all the relationships I'm in. I'm trying to find out who I am, what I want, need, like.

One thing I do like is something Oprah said: "Forgiveness is releasing the hope that things could have been different. True forgiveness is realizing the gift in a bad childhood – and learning from it. Every experience you’ve had makes you who you are and makes you more yourself. Your unique personality and spirit wouldn’t be yours if you had different parents or siblings – even if you got a bad deal."

I still have a hard time trusting my parents, and, by extension, forgiving them. And when I do get to that point, I don't know if forgiveness will include having them back in my life in some way or not (I don't believe they necessarily go together).

For now I'm working on it, but every time I get a little closer, I seem to have a set-back. Trust is one of those hard things that, when broken, is difficult to repair. Probably my parents greatest shortcoming was the lack of healthy boundaries within our family, and I don't have any reason to think things have changed in the past four years.

Still, I'm trying to feel my way towards a less all or nothing response to boundary violations in my life, because I'm guessing there will be plenty more in the future and I'm sure there's a more Christ-like way of reacting to people who cross lines. I'm exactly not sure what it is, but I suspect I'll find it. Eventually.

Grateful for:
1) Maci's lesson of long ago. And all inspired teachers.
2) Today's loaves of bread rose a little more than last week's...still not quite right though.
3) Promised sunshine.
*•♫*♥Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ♥*♫´¯`☆
Luke 6:27-29

The Mother of All Candy Cards

I finally did the video like I promised. Here is Doc reading the candy card I made him for his birthday last month, which was the day before he graduated from medical school.

Grateful For:
1) Friends. Don't they just make life grand?!
2) Sunny, hot days. 'Cause we've had a shortage of them round here this year. (It's only 55 degrees Fahrenheit right now!)
3) Our kids are taking swimming lessons. I'm so glad about this! (I've been rather a lame mom in the making sure my kids are well-trained in water department.)
*•♫*♥Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ♥*♫´¯`☆