I love yard sales. Items I love and I'm not really sure why are bowls, rustic, hand-thrown pottery, and tables. I like to look for other items, but for some unknown reason, those are the three subjects that catch my eye, first. My house isn't congested with a dozen tables stacked with pottery and bowls. But if it were a bigger house, there probably would be a table or two in the additional rooms and yes, some pottery would find it's way onto the tops. I used to buy small tables (end tables, tables that you can put a flower on) and paint them. I would either find a room to put it in or give it to a friend. Two years ago, I found an older coffee table that I had no room for and really no time to do anything with, but that little voice was telling me 'buy' and so I took out my five dollars and bought. After several unsuccessful attempts at finding it the 'right spot' in different rooms and the front porch, I ended up putting it in the basement. I never forgot it was there and every time I went down would glance at it and toss around the idea of painting it or making some tile mosaic on the surface. It never happened.
Around that same time, I was at another yard sale and bought for $20.00 this beautiful leather reclining chair. It is not huge, but just right for the small living room and because it reclines, it allows for more space. I wanted to replace this black leather chair that my mother had bought from her sister-in-law many years ago when they (her in-laws) were moving to a smaller apartment. She gave one to me and kept one. It was a nice chair but I had to buy a small ottoman so that you could stretch out in it and that took up some needed extra space in the living room. So, when I found the other chair (that was in excellent condition) I was really happy. The new chair looks great, but I had to find a place for the old chair. I put it in the dinning room turned study until I could find it a home. When my son found a place, I asked him. He said that he didn't need it. I had offered it to another friend when their son moved out. He said that the new place was already furnished. So, that black leather chair sat in the dinning room for two years. It made the space cramped but, there it sat.
Last week, a friend of mine's husband who has found work here, rented an apartment and needed furniture. He sent a text out to friends and family. They are on a tight budget now, with two households and didn't want to spend a lot on furniture. Of course, when she called me I knew what pieces he was going to get. I cleaned up the table and had both sitting in the foyer waiting for him. He picked it up, yesterday. He wanted to be assured that I didn't need them and I told him that I think I bought the table and chair for him two years ago and have just been storing it for him.
That's what I felt like. As though God knew this was all going to be needed in the future and had me store it until the right time. God's time. That kind of thing has happened before to me, where I buy something and don't use it right away, almost forget I have it, until one day, it is the perfect solution to some problem. It doesn't happen a lot, but it has happened.
It has been that way with my experience with addiction. I have been so anxious, worried and stressed through this whole ordeal. Trying a lot of the time to control outcomes and get life back on my terms/time, not seeing the bigger picture. I will never know why this all had to happen. Having said that, letting go and letting God work in His time has made me realize and see what good can be harvested from bad. God's time has allowed me to become more aware, more understanding and a little more patient. It is still a work in progress, however, understanding that I don't know the big picture and that I'm not 'steering the ship' but am only a passenger has given me the opportunity to stand with the wind in my face and appreciate the ride and what it has had to offer. I'm still working on the acceptance of it all and the whys still pop up, but as long as I remind myself that, "All things work together for good to them that love God..." I can reset my watch to His while I watch and wait.
Monday, August 12, 2013
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
PTSD?
Our life here continues to be good, one day at a time. I really do try not to look any further. Not out of dread but out of trying to learn to appreciate what I have at the moment I have it and not worrying or trying to calculate how long it will last. I am expecting it to last forever. Each day, now, spans my forever.
I don't remember if I've read any blogs addressing this issue I'm going to write about. I have been thinking about it though and doing some half-hearted research.
My daughter applied for a job a little over a month, ago. It ended up that it was for a temporary agency. The first time they called for a job for her, she had been drinking and never answered the call. Once she stopped, she asked me if they would be mad or if she maybe had lost her chance (I still think she has issues with self-sabotage and I can't figure out why). Anyway, I told her to call and find out. What's the worst that could happen--they fire you? So, you look for something else. Life will go on and it will be okay. I can't remember exactly when, but the company ended up calling her and offering another position with a different company, no questions asked. She filled out the paper work. I drove her to the interview. Today, is her first day. It is a data entry job that she is not interested in permanently, but for a month, she said, it will do. She said to me that it will get her back into the job world, give her experience, and money. She has not had a job for two years. In fact, it was two years ago, this month, that the summer of hell was coming to an end. During that time, life seemed so out of control. She seemed possessed. My brain was whirling with it all and it felt as though nothing was ever going to feel right, again.
Life is much calmer, now. We did get into a routine, here. She would be sober for awhile but then for some reason, a thought would bubble to the surface of her mind or she would take a trip to the past, and then would drink for a week or more. We established boundaries. When she was sober, she helped around the house. It is not as though she was doing nothing. I suggested books, she started to read. We worked on developing a more healthy routine. It was start and stop but we did establish a routine that seemed to have had some good come out of it.
A lot happened in that two years both good and bad. Today, as I've written before, things seem different. More grounded and less panicked. We can talk about more without getting into a fight. She doesn't seem as desperate, today. So, here is the issue I mentioned in the beginning. Could I be suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?
We have talked about her drinking. She said that she isn't going to buy alcohol. Not, "I don't plan to" but "I'm not going to." She did say that, once before, but (I don't know how to put this into words) it was different. Even though she did buy it, it didn't last as long and she didn't buy as much. Anyway, that was our conversation. It has come up sporadically (only because I've been keeping my mouth shut because if I let fear take over, I'd be following her around all of the time asking questions and trying to get something in writing). Each time the conversation was civil. So, I felt as though I shouldn't say anymore about it. I can't control it, we both know the issues, so just be quiet, is what I would tell myself. It was okay, until yesterday. We had a good day, but ALL day all I wanted to do was ask her, "You're not going to buy alcohol, right?" I wanted to keep telling her that the job wasn't worth stressing over if she felt that coming on. I wanted to remind her about what to do if she felt the urge or started thinking about it. I could have talked about it all day, but instead, I kept quiet. The cause of that, though, was that the memories from the summer of hell were bubbling up for me. Thoughts I haven't allowed into my brain were taking formation front and center, waving flags and shooting fireworks. It was going against everything I'm trying to do. Pray, stay hopeful, believe that God is in control.
Saying good-bye this morning was bittersweet. The hopeful side was thinking how wonderful this was. She was once again, a participant in life as it should be. Simmering beneath my real thoughts, however, were the memories of what has happened in the past. I am trying to 'think them away.' The way I'm feeling though, is that because of PTSD? Could not just the remembering but the churning stomach, difficulty concentrating, and general feeling of a lack of focus be a form of PTSD because the scenario (having a job away from home) is the scenario of that summer from hell?
It is a new day. She has taken that first, healthy, courageous step back into the world of the living. I am so proud of her and want this to be the first day of the good rest of her life. All of this time I've been telling her to let go of the past. Release, forgive, move on. It seems as though she really is working on that. Now I guess, I need to follow my own advice.
I don't remember if I've read any blogs addressing this issue I'm going to write about. I have been thinking about it though and doing some half-hearted research.
My daughter applied for a job a little over a month, ago. It ended up that it was for a temporary agency. The first time they called for a job for her, she had been drinking and never answered the call. Once she stopped, she asked me if they would be mad or if she maybe had lost her chance (I still think she has issues with self-sabotage and I can't figure out why). Anyway, I told her to call and find out. What's the worst that could happen--they fire you? So, you look for something else. Life will go on and it will be okay. I can't remember exactly when, but the company ended up calling her and offering another position with a different company, no questions asked. She filled out the paper work. I drove her to the interview. Today, is her first day. It is a data entry job that she is not interested in permanently, but for a month, she said, it will do. She said to me that it will get her back into the job world, give her experience, and money. She has not had a job for two years. In fact, it was two years ago, this month, that the summer of hell was coming to an end. During that time, life seemed so out of control. She seemed possessed. My brain was whirling with it all and it felt as though nothing was ever going to feel right, again.
Life is much calmer, now. We did get into a routine, here. She would be sober for awhile but then for some reason, a thought would bubble to the surface of her mind or she would take a trip to the past, and then would drink for a week or more. We established boundaries. When she was sober, she helped around the house. It is not as though she was doing nothing. I suggested books, she started to read. We worked on developing a more healthy routine. It was start and stop but we did establish a routine that seemed to have had some good come out of it.
A lot happened in that two years both good and bad. Today, as I've written before, things seem different. More grounded and less panicked. We can talk about more without getting into a fight. She doesn't seem as desperate, today. So, here is the issue I mentioned in the beginning. Could I be suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?
We have talked about her drinking. She said that she isn't going to buy alcohol. Not, "I don't plan to" but "I'm not going to." She did say that, once before, but (I don't know how to put this into words) it was different. Even though she did buy it, it didn't last as long and she didn't buy as much. Anyway, that was our conversation. It has come up sporadically (only because I've been keeping my mouth shut because if I let fear take over, I'd be following her around all of the time asking questions and trying to get something in writing). Each time the conversation was civil. So, I felt as though I shouldn't say anymore about it. I can't control it, we both know the issues, so just be quiet, is what I would tell myself. It was okay, until yesterday. We had a good day, but ALL day all I wanted to do was ask her, "You're not going to buy alcohol, right?" I wanted to keep telling her that the job wasn't worth stressing over if she felt that coming on. I wanted to remind her about what to do if she felt the urge or started thinking about it. I could have talked about it all day, but instead, I kept quiet. The cause of that, though, was that the memories from the summer of hell were bubbling up for me. Thoughts I haven't allowed into my brain were taking formation front and center, waving flags and shooting fireworks. It was going against everything I'm trying to do. Pray, stay hopeful, believe that God is in control.
Saying good-bye this morning was bittersweet. The hopeful side was thinking how wonderful this was. She was once again, a participant in life as it should be. Simmering beneath my real thoughts, however, were the memories of what has happened in the past. I am trying to 'think them away.' The way I'm feeling though, is that because of PTSD? Could not just the remembering but the churning stomach, difficulty concentrating, and general feeling of a lack of focus be a form of PTSD because the scenario (having a job away from home) is the scenario of that summer from hell?
It is a new day. She has taken that first, healthy, courageous step back into the world of the living. I am so proud of her and want this to be the first day of the good rest of her life. All of this time I've been telling her to let go of the past. Release, forgive, move on. It seems as though she really is working on that. Now I guess, I need to follow my own advice.
Friday, August 2, 2013
The Impatient Sort
One day at a time, it has been good, here. Though I don't know what the future holds, I do feel my hope coming back a little more each day. It 'feels' different, here. Where it used to feel like there was some dark force enveloping our home, like some black blob out of a science fiction movie, it now feels lighter. Not in the physical lighter, but in the mental and maybe visual lighter. Conversation is less strained. Smiles come more frequently. Attitudes seem to be shifting to a better place. I do believe people can change in a day if they choose to. I know it is hard work whenever someone chooses to change, but it is still possible, I believe. It is a choice, as always.
After work a few days ago (summer school is over at noon) I came home and we went to a zoo. Not the big zoo, but one that was about an hour away. (My daughter has always loved tigers and this place has a pair that includes a white tiger). This zoo was smaller, more personal, with the option of feeding certain animals. I was pleasantly surprised. It was clean, the animals were very healthy looking and if you took your time, it was about a two hour walk.
As we were walking through the park, the animals who were allowed to be fed by the visitors, were never far from the fences. For the animals, like the zebras and others that were more wild, there was a PVC pipe that reached to the path. People could pour kibbles down the pipe, that sat on a slant. The kibbles or carrots would then roll down the pipe and land in a metal bowl where the animals could then eat them. There were some animals who were impatient, knowing the treat came down that white long thing so they would position themselves at the bowl and just wait, trying to make sure that any other animal that came near was not given enough room to share in the profits.
Other animals (mostly the wild horses) were even more impatient and determined to let everyone in the park know. They knew good things rolled down that pipe, and they would pick up the end of the pipe and let it snap back making a clinging noise that produced an clanging sound that echoed throughout the park.
There were the animals who went about their business (the otters, sheep, kangaroos), playing, sleeping, stretching in the grass. If someone came to the fence, they might get up and eat or they might not. They had other business to attend to.
It made me think about people and God. There are some people who are impatient to learn something, hear from God, and get information. So impatient to try and understand, that they keep 'banging and yelling' to get some results. There are other people who just wait, nervously hoping something 'comes down the shoot' that will be able to help them. Then, there are the people who just go about life, living it,enjoying it, having the faith that they will be taken care of and that allows them to live and appreciate what has been given to them.
Being put to the test in the confines of addiction, I realized I am the banging and yelling sort. Impatient at times and sometimes so focused on my issues that I don't see or truly appreciate the life and situation in which I've been placed. I learn lessons but don't realize how much it really has 'filled' me and so I keep banging, demanding a more immediate response.
I'm trying to change, but realize that the idea or decision to change is only the first step--that can happen in a day. The real change occurs everyday after that. This is another day and another chance to continue to change. I choose to take advantage of another chance.
After work a few days ago (summer school is over at noon) I came home and we went to a zoo. Not the big zoo, but one that was about an hour away. (My daughter has always loved tigers and this place has a pair that includes a white tiger). This zoo was smaller, more personal, with the option of feeding certain animals. I was pleasantly surprised. It was clean, the animals were very healthy looking and if you took your time, it was about a two hour walk.
As we were walking through the park, the animals who were allowed to be fed by the visitors, were never far from the fences. For the animals, like the zebras and others that were more wild, there was a PVC pipe that reached to the path. People could pour kibbles down the pipe, that sat on a slant. The kibbles or carrots would then roll down the pipe and land in a metal bowl where the animals could then eat them. There were some animals who were impatient, knowing the treat came down that white long thing so they would position themselves at the bowl and just wait, trying to make sure that any other animal that came near was not given enough room to share in the profits.
Other animals (mostly the wild horses) were even more impatient and determined to let everyone in the park know. They knew good things rolled down that pipe, and they would pick up the end of the pipe and let it snap back making a clinging noise that produced an clanging sound that echoed throughout the park.
There were the animals who went about their business (the otters, sheep, kangaroos), playing, sleeping, stretching in the grass. If someone came to the fence, they might get up and eat or they might not. They had other business to attend to.
It made me think about people and God. There are some people who are impatient to learn something, hear from God, and get information. So impatient to try and understand, that they keep 'banging and yelling' to get some results. There are other people who just wait, nervously hoping something 'comes down the shoot' that will be able to help them. Then, there are the people who just go about life, living it,enjoying it, having the faith that they will be taken care of and that allows them to live and appreciate what has been given to them.
Being put to the test in the confines of addiction, I realized I am the banging and yelling sort. Impatient at times and sometimes so focused on my issues that I don't see or truly appreciate the life and situation in which I've been placed. I learn lessons but don't realize how much it really has 'filled' me and so I keep banging, demanding a more immediate response.
I'm trying to change, but realize that the idea or decision to change is only the first step--that can happen in a day. The real change occurs everyday after that. This is another day and another chance to continue to change. I choose to take advantage of another chance.
Friday, July 26, 2013
A Perfect Day
Today was a perfect day.
It began with cooler temperatures and the humidity not as high. I was able to sit out on the back porch this morning, drink my coffee, and watch the dogs roam around the yard. No one else was up. The sun was barely up. It was perfect.
My daughter had a job interview, she scheduled it in the afternoon, so that we could go and look at a house. Though, the house was almost perfect, the experience was a good one I am learning not to settle. We left the showing and drove to the interview. We were early, so we stopped for something to drink. We sat and talked. There was no stress. No worrying (yeah!) just easy conversation. In plenty of time, we drove to the building where the interview was to take place. I waited in the car while she went in. I listened to the radio, filed my nails, and then stepped out of the car to stand and watch the brightest yellow bird I have ever seen, eat berries in the bush behind my car. The interview took about a half an hour. She came out with the paper work she needed to take it to the next step. (Things are looking good).
After the interview, we went to lunch, shoe shopping and picked up some other odds and ends. We drove past this candy/bakery shop and decided to stop. It was so cute in side and the baked goods were amazing. So many to choose from. I bought a scone. She bought little doughnuts with toppings like salty pretzel and bacon.
Not feeling like cooking, we decided to pick up some sandwiches for dinner.
She is doing her yoga now and I am here. Feeling happy and content. I remember this feeling and I am welcoming it with open arms.
Thank you, God, for this blessing of a day!
It began with cooler temperatures and the humidity not as high. I was able to sit out on the back porch this morning, drink my coffee, and watch the dogs roam around the yard. No one else was up. The sun was barely up. It was perfect.
My daughter had a job interview, she scheduled it in the afternoon, so that we could go and look at a house. Though, the house was almost perfect, the experience was a good one I am learning not to settle. We left the showing and drove to the interview. We were early, so we stopped for something to drink. We sat and talked. There was no stress. No worrying (yeah!) just easy conversation. In plenty of time, we drove to the building where the interview was to take place. I waited in the car while she went in. I listened to the radio, filed my nails, and then stepped out of the car to stand and watch the brightest yellow bird I have ever seen, eat berries in the bush behind my car. The interview took about a half an hour. She came out with the paper work she needed to take it to the next step. (Things are looking good).
After the interview, we went to lunch, shoe shopping and picked up some other odds and ends. We drove past this candy/bakery shop and decided to stop. It was so cute in side and the baked goods were amazing. So many to choose from. I bought a scone. She bought little doughnuts with toppings like salty pretzel and bacon.
Not feeling like cooking, we decided to pick up some sandwiches for dinner.
She is doing her yoga now and I am here. Feeling happy and content. I remember this feeling and I am welcoming it with open arms.
Thank you, God, for this blessing of a day!
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
A Reminder
I am still worrying, a lot. Though it is not evident from my outsides, sometimes on the inside it feels as though I have electrodes connected to every thought and that causes everything that I think about to turn into some type of worry. I worry about the jobs around the house I want to get finished--painting, cleaning the attic, cleaning the basement, getting rid of some paperwork, are just a few jobs I want to get done. I'm not going to list all of the things I worry about, but the list is becoming endless. My stomach can start churning at a sound that reminds me of a thought that then reminds me of either a memory or job I have to do and then, wham, I'm in worry mode, again.
I was sitting in the living room on Sunday morning. It was quiet. Early morning is one of my favorite times of the day. I wasn't worrying. I was sipping coffee (another favorite time is that first cup in the morning). At some point, I decided to turn on the TV. (I changed TV and Internet service companies and I am still playing around trying to rediscover what channels align with what stations). Anyway, I landed on a channel where someone was talking about worry. He said that you can't serve two masters--worry and God. He went over Matthew 6: 24-34. I know this passage, though obviously I haven't been applying it to my life. I am trying to read this once a day so that the words embed themselves in my subconscious. While I was reading it, "But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness..." was a part I was stumbling on. So, I decided to research some places to see what other people had to say about it. I read one site where the author, using Romans 14:17 explained 'the kingdom of God" as the, "righteousness, peace and joy in you." because of the Holy Spirit. I hope this isn't sounding too mystical, but this whole journey with addiction has also been, for me, a journey into how my faith and beliefs are working. Kind of like a walk of proof. Do I really believe what I say I do? When things get bad (and having your child sick and destructive and sad is a 9.5 on a scale of 10 of how bad things can get) do I toss my beliefs for something else or do I stand firm (though a little shaky and worn)?
Well, I am shaky and worn out. I think the worrying is a sign of this, so I have to shift my direction, again, to get back on the more healthy path. This time spiritually. It's a daily struggle for me. But I have to say that along the way there have been amazing signs, shown in sometimes the littlest and least expected ways, that I'm not alone in this. That there is some supernatural, benevolent, unseen presence that is never far away. Last night, I was reminded about that in an unexpected way.
We were in the living room. It has been hot and humid and rainy here. I grilled some chicken and steaks last night. The grill is on the back porch. There is a large tree back there whose branches provide shade over the porch, during the rain, they are not much help. So, I was outside, with an umbrella, grilling. After the meal was cooked, my daughter put the umbrella on the front porch to dry off. The front porch has a roof.
We have a little min pin. He is 12 pounds of energy. We have to keep the screen door locked because if the door is open and he hears something in the front, he runs and literally slams into the door. If the door was not locked, he might unlock it and get out. After dinner, while we were in the living room, there were several times that he jumped off of the couch, growling, because he must have heard something outside. Kids walking by, another dog being walked, anyway, he didn't do his normal jump, run and slam. He jumped off of the couch and didn't leave the living room entryway. He just growled a little and then jumped back on the couch. This happened a few times. At one point, I walked to the front door to watch the rain coming down, and noticed that the screen door wasn't closed. The lock was locked, but sticking in a way that the door was resting on the latch. If he had run at the door, he would have been out.
I sat and thought about it. I thought about Matthew 6. God is in control. Don't worry about anything. And I thought that as long as you are doing the right thing (my daughter did lock the door but it didn't latch correctly) that God will watch over the rest.
I know this doesn't seem like a big event, but for us it was. We worry about him getting out. He's done it once before and it was a BIG stress. I don't know what was stopping him from leaving the living room and running to the door. But the three or four times that he jumped down, he just stood there, looking around, and then jumped back onto the couch. Not scared, not crazy barking, just quietly turned around and jumped back onto the couch. That NEVER happens. Well, until last night.
I choose to believe that God was watching over us and that last night was an easy reminder that we are not alone in this. I have had other reminders, too, if I take a walk down nightmare lane and remember all of the times that situations could have been much, much worse.
So, I sit here and am grateful that I was given another reminder that we are watched over. I will probably need several more in the future, but for now, this will do.
I was sitting in the living room on Sunday morning. It was quiet. Early morning is one of my favorite times of the day. I wasn't worrying. I was sipping coffee (another favorite time is that first cup in the morning). At some point, I decided to turn on the TV. (I changed TV and Internet service companies and I am still playing around trying to rediscover what channels align with what stations). Anyway, I landed on a channel where someone was talking about worry. He said that you can't serve two masters--worry and God. He went over Matthew 6: 24-34. I know this passage, though obviously I haven't been applying it to my life. I am trying to read this once a day so that the words embed themselves in my subconscious. While I was reading it, "But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness..." was a part I was stumbling on. So, I decided to research some places to see what other people had to say about it. I read one site where the author, using Romans 14:17 explained 'the kingdom of God" as the, "righteousness, peace and joy in you." because of the Holy Spirit. I hope this isn't sounding too mystical, but this whole journey with addiction has also been, for me, a journey into how my faith and beliefs are working. Kind of like a walk of proof. Do I really believe what I say I do? When things get bad (and having your child sick and destructive and sad is a 9.5 on a scale of 10 of how bad things can get) do I toss my beliefs for something else or do I stand firm (though a little shaky and worn)?
Well, I am shaky and worn out. I think the worrying is a sign of this, so I have to shift my direction, again, to get back on the more healthy path. This time spiritually. It's a daily struggle for me. But I have to say that along the way there have been amazing signs, shown in sometimes the littlest and least expected ways, that I'm not alone in this. That there is some supernatural, benevolent, unseen presence that is never far away. Last night, I was reminded about that in an unexpected way.
We were in the living room. It has been hot and humid and rainy here. I grilled some chicken and steaks last night. The grill is on the back porch. There is a large tree back there whose branches provide shade over the porch, during the rain, they are not much help. So, I was outside, with an umbrella, grilling. After the meal was cooked, my daughter put the umbrella on the front porch to dry off. The front porch has a roof.
We have a little min pin. He is 12 pounds of energy. We have to keep the screen door locked because if the door is open and he hears something in the front, he runs and literally slams into the door. If the door was not locked, he might unlock it and get out. After dinner, while we were in the living room, there were several times that he jumped off of the couch, growling, because he must have heard something outside. Kids walking by, another dog being walked, anyway, he didn't do his normal jump, run and slam. He jumped off of the couch and didn't leave the living room entryway. He just growled a little and then jumped back on the couch. This happened a few times. At one point, I walked to the front door to watch the rain coming down, and noticed that the screen door wasn't closed. The lock was locked, but sticking in a way that the door was resting on the latch. If he had run at the door, he would have been out.
I sat and thought about it. I thought about Matthew 6. God is in control. Don't worry about anything. And I thought that as long as you are doing the right thing (my daughter did lock the door but it didn't latch correctly) that God will watch over the rest.
I know this doesn't seem like a big event, but for us it was. We worry about him getting out. He's done it once before and it was a BIG stress. I don't know what was stopping him from leaving the living room and running to the door. But the three or four times that he jumped down, he just stood there, looking around, and then jumped back onto the couch. Not scared, not crazy barking, just quietly turned around and jumped back onto the couch. That NEVER happens. Well, until last night.
I choose to believe that God was watching over us and that last night was an easy reminder that we are not alone in this. I have had other reminders, too, if I take a walk down nightmare lane and remember all of the times that situations could have been much, much worse.
So, I sit here and am grateful that I was given another reminder that we are watched over. I will probably need several more in the future, but for now, this will do.
Monday, July 15, 2013
A Melody of Hope
My daughter loved(s) the Little Mermaid. As a child, when we lived in Alabama, after we saw the movie in the theater she was smitten. She wanted me to dye her beautiful, golden hair red and change her name to Ariel. I said no to both, but bought a red wig and my mother made a mermaid costume that my daughter loved. She had two close friends and every day (no exaggeration) they would play the music and 'preform' in our living room, rearranging the furniture as best as they could to create the bottom of the ocean. I kick myself for not video taping it, but the memory of my girl directing and singing, dressed in her red wig and costume is locked in my heart forever.
Several months ago, my daughter read that The Little Mermaid was going to be preformed on stage in the city and so she bought two tickets. I won't lie. I was worried at first that maybe we wouldn't get to go. But then I was hopeful that it would be motivating for her to stay sober. Well, she didn't stay sober. Last Tuesday she started drinking (I mentioned it in my last post). On Friday, I went into her room, and reminded her what day it was and that Sunday was the Little Mermaid. "Are we still going to go?" The look of confusion and concern in her eyes made my heart sad. "Yes." She finally said. "Well, if you are still drinking, we're not going. I'm not going anywhere if you've had any alcohol. I'm not risking you passing out or needing an ambulance." She looked at me with a frightened and confused look (my heart ached, again). "But..." "No. Drinking or not is your choice. If you choose drinking, we're not going. If you decide to get sober, then we can go.Do you understand what I'm saying?" She seemed to be struggling with the thought for a moment. "Yes." She finally answered.
Well, she continued to drink until early Sunday morning. When I went into check on her, I asked her if she was done. She said yes. I have to tell you, she didn't look good. She had had a lot to drink in a short period of time. But, I made her some soup with bread and butter. She ate and took a nap. Around three, she was able to take a shower. I helped her with her make-up. She got dressed and we left the house at 6:15. The show started at 7:00.
The theater is an old, historical, beautiful building. I was surprised at how may people where there of all ages. Our seats were on the second floor. She had to take the stairs slowly, but we eventually found our seats.
When the lights went down and the music and singing started, I started to quietly cry to myself. I had to wipe tears away several times. All I could see was my electric, happy, courageous little girl dressed in her red wig and costume singing her heart out in our living room, perched on the ottoman just like Ariel was perched on her rock in the middle of the ocean. What happened to my girl who had so much...spunk and confidence? I looked over at her and saw a more fragile person sitting next to me. Someone who seems more afraid and hesitant. Again, what happened and when? It all seems like such a jumble. I know that the little girl I raised is still inside her. I just don't know how to unlock the mental cell she's being held captive in.
Even though she didn't feel good, she made it through the two and a half hour performance. We talked about it on the way home. Though she was still not feeling well, I think that she was happy that she was able to go. I know I was proud of her for making the healthier choice.
As I sat next to her, during the performance, I laid my had on her knee and said a prayer. I prayed that she was reminded of who she really is. That she begins to believe that and not the lies of addiction. In the darkness of that theater surrounded by the beautiful music and costumes, I prayed that my daughter recognize the melody of who she is and what she can be and that she allows that song to begin playing in her heart, again.
Several months ago, my daughter read that The Little Mermaid was going to be preformed on stage in the city and so she bought two tickets. I won't lie. I was worried at first that maybe we wouldn't get to go. But then I was hopeful that it would be motivating for her to stay sober. Well, she didn't stay sober. Last Tuesday she started drinking (I mentioned it in my last post). On Friday, I went into her room, and reminded her what day it was and that Sunday was the Little Mermaid. "Are we still going to go?" The look of confusion and concern in her eyes made my heart sad. "Yes." She finally said. "Well, if you are still drinking, we're not going. I'm not going anywhere if you've had any alcohol. I'm not risking you passing out or needing an ambulance." She looked at me with a frightened and confused look (my heart ached, again). "But..." "No. Drinking or not is your choice. If you choose drinking, we're not going. If you decide to get sober, then we can go.Do you understand what I'm saying?" She seemed to be struggling with the thought for a moment. "Yes." She finally answered.
Well, she continued to drink until early Sunday morning. When I went into check on her, I asked her if she was done. She said yes. I have to tell you, she didn't look good. She had had a lot to drink in a short period of time. But, I made her some soup with bread and butter. She ate and took a nap. Around three, she was able to take a shower. I helped her with her make-up. She got dressed and we left the house at 6:15. The show started at 7:00.
The theater is an old, historical, beautiful building. I was surprised at how may people where there of all ages. Our seats were on the second floor. She had to take the stairs slowly, but we eventually found our seats.
When the lights went down and the music and singing started, I started to quietly cry to myself. I had to wipe tears away several times. All I could see was my electric, happy, courageous little girl dressed in her red wig and costume singing her heart out in our living room, perched on the ottoman just like Ariel was perched on her rock in the middle of the ocean. What happened to my girl who had so much...spunk and confidence? I looked over at her and saw a more fragile person sitting next to me. Someone who seems more afraid and hesitant. Again, what happened and when? It all seems like such a jumble. I know that the little girl I raised is still inside her. I just don't know how to unlock the mental cell she's being held captive in.
Even though she didn't feel good, she made it through the two and a half hour performance. We talked about it on the way home. Though she was still not feeling well, I think that she was happy that she was able to go. I know I was proud of her for making the healthier choice.
As I sat next to her, during the performance, I laid my had on her knee and said a prayer. I prayed that she was reminded of who she really is. That she begins to believe that and not the lies of addiction. In the darkness of that theater surrounded by the beautiful music and costumes, I prayed that my daughter recognize the melody of who she is and what she can be and that she allows that song to begin playing in her heart, again.
Saturday, July 13, 2013
Turning Away
Matthew 7: 1-2 says, "Judge not, that ye be not judged. For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged..."
I don't think there has been anything more than this experience with addiction that has caused me to demolish so many of my own 'walls of thinking'. I am in the process of rebuilding those walls (boundaries) only the mortar I'm using is a little more gentle and the stone not as heavy.
Don't misunderstand me, I don't think judging is wrong. I've written about this, before. It's important and necessary to make judgments every day. A right action from a wrong action. Is this idea a biblical one or not? Judgments help to maintain standards and boundaries. Judgments become an obstacle when you don't read further into that passage in Matthew where it states that you need to look at the log in your own eye before the speck in another's. You have to make sure you're making the judgments for the right reason (making sure you have cleaned up your act) before you can help someone else see better choices to make. As with most of the directives in the bible, I don't believe them to be written as a finger-wagging warning, but as a gentle, loving parent advising you on how to best live your life in order to help others, and yourself, get closer to God.
I'm not a loud person. I'm not an in-your-face person. It always amazes me when I hear people have commented to strangers on their weight, actions, etc. I have never done that in the negative. I have gone up to someone who I just observed doing something good or kind and told them. Good behavior should be encouraged. Having said that, I did make judgments in my own mind. My thoughts would go something like this, if someones child had to leave school (college) unexpectedly and there were hints of drug or alcohol use my face would show sympathy, but my mind was judging. "They should have made better choices." "Must have something going on at home." I was a bipolar judge. On the outside sympathetic on the inside I was pointing my finger in all directions.
If you can find good in any situation, a good out of this situation is that nothing phases me and I understand more completely how fragile people really are and how messy life can be when you are not being sheltered by your loved ones. Once you get out into the world and are on your own, the past emotional baggage, experiences and all of the idiosyncrasies that make up you as a person get dragged along with you. They are the tools you reach for when life starts breaking down. Sometimes those are the right tools. Sometimes you end up using a screw driver when you should have used a hammer. But, you do the best that you can even when that best drags you down a path you would have never in a million years, dreamed you'd be on.
Life has so many paths to chose all with their own set of consequences. Some consequences are cause by our actions, some by other's actions. Regardless of what the consequences, we are required to keep forging ahead. "All things work together for the good to them that love God." (Romans 8:28). All things. So, regardless of the spot you've landed in a field of roses or a pile of poo, it can work out for good. The possibility is there if you're focused on the right.
My very best friend in the world called me last week to tell me about a choice she had made in the distant past. The consequence of that choice showed up last week. She was afraid that I would judge her. Me. I can write a full two page, front and back, single spaced list of the goofy stuff we did as kids, yet she was afraid that I was going to love her less because of this one choice she had made.
I listened to her story. Heard the pain in her voice. The fear. When she was done, we talked and the bottom line for me was you did the best you could with the choices you had at the time. I asked her if she was happy with her life now. "Yes." Does she have a family she loves and who loves her? "Yes." Then why would you be upset now about a choice made so long ago?
What we experience, if we learn from it, makes us who we are at this moment. If you learn from your choices and strive to make better ones (even if you get weak along the way) then how could you fault yourself? Who's so perfect that they never make mistakes? (Of course, I'm not considering extremes like torture or purposely hurting someone...I think Hitler has a lot to answer for) I'm talking about the general, normal human that most of us are. When Lot's wife turned back to look at her destroyed city, she turned to a pillar of salt. You can't keep reminding yourself about the choices of your past. It's over. Done. Bury it and move on.
The past is where my daughter has chained herself. For whatever reason, when things are going their best, she chooses to turn around and review every mistake, postponed decision, lost friendship. Every bad experience is the result of alcohol, YET what does she turn to after she flails herself with memories of the past? Alcohol. I don't understand it. Why is it so hard to forgive yourself? Why is it so hard to let go? Why is it so hard to turn away from the past?
I don't think there has been anything more than this experience with addiction that has caused me to demolish so many of my own 'walls of thinking'. I am in the process of rebuilding those walls (boundaries) only the mortar I'm using is a little more gentle and the stone not as heavy.
Don't misunderstand me, I don't think judging is wrong. I've written about this, before. It's important and necessary to make judgments every day. A right action from a wrong action. Is this idea a biblical one or not? Judgments help to maintain standards and boundaries. Judgments become an obstacle when you don't read further into that passage in Matthew where it states that you need to look at the log in your own eye before the speck in another's. You have to make sure you're making the judgments for the right reason (making sure you have cleaned up your act) before you can help someone else see better choices to make. As with most of the directives in the bible, I don't believe them to be written as a finger-wagging warning, but as a gentle, loving parent advising you on how to best live your life in order to help others, and yourself, get closer to God.
I'm not a loud person. I'm not an in-your-face person. It always amazes me when I hear people have commented to strangers on their weight, actions, etc. I have never done that in the negative. I have gone up to someone who I just observed doing something good or kind and told them. Good behavior should be encouraged. Having said that, I did make judgments in my own mind. My thoughts would go something like this, if someones child had to leave school (college) unexpectedly and there were hints of drug or alcohol use my face would show sympathy, but my mind was judging. "They should have made better choices." "Must have something going on at home." I was a bipolar judge. On the outside sympathetic on the inside I was pointing my finger in all directions.
If you can find good in any situation, a good out of this situation is that nothing phases me and I understand more completely how fragile people really are and how messy life can be when you are not being sheltered by your loved ones. Once you get out into the world and are on your own, the past emotional baggage, experiences and all of the idiosyncrasies that make up you as a person get dragged along with you. They are the tools you reach for when life starts breaking down. Sometimes those are the right tools. Sometimes you end up using a screw driver when you should have used a hammer. But, you do the best that you can even when that best drags you down a path you would have never in a million years, dreamed you'd be on.
Life has so many paths to chose all with their own set of consequences. Some consequences are cause by our actions, some by other's actions. Regardless of what the consequences, we are required to keep forging ahead. "All things work together for the good to them that love God." (Romans 8:28). All things. So, regardless of the spot you've landed in a field of roses or a pile of poo, it can work out for good. The possibility is there if you're focused on the right.
My very best friend in the world called me last week to tell me about a choice she had made in the distant past. The consequence of that choice showed up last week. She was afraid that I would judge her. Me. I can write a full two page, front and back, single spaced list of the goofy stuff we did as kids, yet she was afraid that I was going to love her less because of this one choice she had made.
I listened to her story. Heard the pain in her voice. The fear. When she was done, we talked and the bottom line for me was you did the best you could with the choices you had at the time. I asked her if she was happy with her life now. "Yes." Does she have a family she loves and who loves her? "Yes." Then why would you be upset now about a choice made so long ago?
What we experience, if we learn from it, makes us who we are at this moment. If you learn from your choices and strive to make better ones (even if you get weak along the way) then how could you fault yourself? Who's so perfect that they never make mistakes? (Of course, I'm not considering extremes like torture or purposely hurting someone...I think Hitler has a lot to answer for) I'm talking about the general, normal human that most of us are. When Lot's wife turned back to look at her destroyed city, she turned to a pillar of salt. You can't keep reminding yourself about the choices of your past. It's over. Done. Bury it and move on.
The past is where my daughter has chained herself. For whatever reason, when things are going their best, she chooses to turn around and review every mistake, postponed decision, lost friendship. Every bad experience is the result of alcohol, YET what does she turn to after she flails herself with memories of the past? Alcohol. I don't understand it. Why is it so hard to forgive yourself? Why is it so hard to let go? Why is it so hard to turn away from the past?
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