REMEMBER

 In one of my favourite movies, Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, (yes, I am a Trekkie!) Mr. Spock knows that his solution to the problem of fixing the warp core and escaping a giant explosion is to enter a room filled with radiation and manually put the core back together. He knows this will result in his death.  As a Vulcan, he knows that he will cease to exist unless he finds another person to entrust with his katra, his eternal soul. As no family members are around, he chooses an unlikely receptacle, Dr. McCoy, with whom he has had a running argument since day one. 

(c) 1982, The Wrath of Khan, Paramount Pictures

 He incapacitates Dr. McCoy from preventing him from entering the warp core room, assumes the Vulcan mind-meld position with his fingers on Dr. McCoy's face, and speaks one word: "REMEMBER." That word has been with me of late, calling me to remember the things that I am going through, even if they are painful in the moment, so that I can honour the people in my life, whether they are with me on Earth or not.The latest journey started in June of this year (2026) and began with results of my husband's CT scan and the doctor's words, "There's a mass on the tail end of the pancreas ... and suspicious spots in the liver ...." which turned out to be malignant. Battling stage 4 cancer, which in the pancreas is almost always aggressive, carries with it a limited prognosis and a great deal of fear. So, I've been focusing on meeting daily needs, enjoying what moments I can, and aiming to increase my husband's dignity (see his fundraising page, which a couple of friends set up in my name). I've also been trying to be more transparent about the process.  I've seen a trend in some of the media that I follow where folks want the end result, or the miracle story, and they don't seem to want to be reminded of the "messy middle." But it's that messy part that makes the miracle all that much more miraculous! So I am being honest and forthright about how tough it is, about the wonderful kindness of people around me, and about the day-to-day items against which we struggle. https://gofund.me/efe0557c3https://gofund.me/efe0557c3I am being intentional to remember every kindness, every day-to-day miracle, every reality that we are facing right now, so that maybe someone will see that and be encouraged somehow. Maybe even one of those someones will be me. The journey is tough. The pain is real. The struggles are not imaginary. And yet. And yet, we are surrounded by love ... by friendship ... by support ... by generosity ... by living miracles in our lives. How many times have I sat down and shaken my head - or cried - out of sheer gratitude and wonder at the people who have stepped up and taken some of our burden upon themselves!! It is truly something to remember.And while I remember these things, I also remember the love of my life. His courage and his peace have been so inspiring. He absolutely trusts his Maker to heal him in whatever path that takes. He endures the pain, asks for help when he needs it (still working on some things, haha) and notices every kind act done on his behalf. As weak and tired as he feels, he appreciates every bit of that love expressed toward him and toward us all. While his body wages war, he knows that he is in Good Hands. And that is the most amazing thing to remember.  How many times have I sat ttps://gofund.me/efe0557c3

Fulfillment

 I was reflecting on the path my life has taken, all the people that have passed through it, those who have walked alongside for a season, some longer than others, and how I felt at different stages of my life.

From early on, I seemed obsessed with doing things for people that they would appreciate. I never heard the words, "Thank you" coming from my mother. So every week, I would station myself at the exit door of the grocery store and open the (non-automatic) door for people with their arms full of grocery bags or a cart full. And they would say "Thank you!" and I could tell they meant it. It filled me up with a sense of being able to make a difference in someone's life, even if only for a few moments.

All my life, I chased that feeling. As I entered the workforce, and found my first career in the public service, I got to feel that fulfillment - not fully, but enough - so that I would come home feeling satisfied that I had helped at least one person that day. That "making a difference" rewarding feeling kept me in my career for 21 years.

And now that I am in my 2nd career, that sense of fulfillment and having made a difference is so common that I get to experience it on a regular basis, and I know that I have found my niche in counselling. I usually come home with a smile on my face from having seen someone's "light bulb" come on, or having been able to sit with someone in their pain, knowing that they needed someone to do that. It's a wonderful, FULL, feeling.

Free photo Swan by Noname_13 at Pixabay

I am so blessed to have that opportunity to do what I love and make enough money at it to meet my needs and the needs of my family. I'm so grateful for that. 

Not everyone gets to feel that feeling - those are the heroes of the world. They work at jobs they hate just to meet the needs of their families and they sacrifice so much for that. I did as well, at one time. I don't know why I got to be so blessed - well, maybe I do, but it has nothing to do with my own worthiness or theirs - we are all worthy. 

Helping people to see their own worth and reach for their dreams is one of the greatest things about what I do. It is the most fulfilling part of my ... dare I call it work when it feels so much like play? Yes, there are difficult times, but for the most part, it is fulfilling. It meets that age-old need to know that my contribution helps someone else. Amazing. Simply amazing.

2020 - accepting the good, the bad, and the ugly

 As I sit down to write this post today, my dog is at my side, cuddled up to me, in utter doggie contentment. I think to myself how I can relate to that feeling of being right where I most want to be, doing exactly what I most want to do. It is from that place of fullness that I write about 2020: a year that, for many, has been a horrific disaster from start to finish. 

There is no doubt that historically, the world has changed significantly in the last 12 months. Politics, pandemics, persecution, protests, posturing, and petulance have marked our Western society throughout the year. Many worldwide have felt hopeless, harassed, even hunted. And as we come to the close of it, there are some sparks of hope that the disease which has intensified our societal problems may have an end in sight. However, it does not mean that there are not still problems. 

There has been much to be sad about this year. People have died, either through illness or ignorance. But in the midst of it all, there have also been signs of life, light, laughter, and love.

For me, 2020 has been a time of great sorrow and of great joy. The great sorrow came in February when my brother passed away suddenly after having succumbed to an infection that left him too weak to get to a phone. Feeling empty and alone, I turned my attention to adopting a puppy, who quickly filled our home and my life with laughter, love, and life as he explored and learned each new thing. We got him in the early stages of the pandemic, before we got the hang of this whole social distancing thing. Fortunately, nobody was ill and we were even able to tend to his vaccinations and his neutering as time went on. 

In September, I began a new chapter for me as I started the long-awaited practicum placement that my university requires for me to get my Masters in Counselling Psychology. What I didn't foresee was how wonderfully fulfilling it was (and is) to be there and be present for each of my charges, to listen to them and to watch them grow in themselves and their relationships with themselves, others, and sometimes with God. There have been challenges of course, but I am doing something that I love doing. 

So for me, all told, 2020 hasn't been so bad. Sure, it sucks to not be able to see my friends and family as often, but I have my little family here, which includes a couple of other people in our bubble (the "kith" of kith and kin), and of course the animals. I get to do a lot of things that make me happy, and my stress levels are vastly reduced from a year ago. I guess it has to do with that all-important little word called acceptance. 

Photo "Sun Ray Behind Dark Cloud"
courtesy of Sura Nualpradid at
freedigitalphotos.net

When I accept the things that come my way and don't wish them gone or hurried up, when I receive them and enjoy whatever moments of goodness they bring to me, it is then that I can live in peace. These are lessons I'm learning in this new phase of my life - lessons like living in the now, doing what I can and letting go of what I can't, and making time to laugh and enjoy living without fretting about the future or regretting the past. Too long I have lived with those thieves of joy. It's time to step up, to move ahead, and to enrich my every day by seeing and believing the best, even if things seem bad or ugly. The truth is, there is always some good to be found if you look for it. If you look for bad things, you'll find them. So I choose to look for good things, and let the bad ones go. 

Onward to 2021 - a new year, a new decade. I'm grateful. If our paths cross and we walk together, be that virtually or in person, I hope we part ways encouraged and strengthened. 

5-4-3-2-1

Sometimes, the rush of passing time, deadlines, expectations, and worries about the future are too much for me to handle, and I find myself getting overwhelmed, distracted, and stressed out. When I realize this is happening, (and I realize it far less often than I would like), I return to some little techniques that I learned last fall and which have helped me to get centered, grounded, and  calm. 

One of these techniques is the topic of today's post.  5-4-3-2-1 is something I can do at any time, any place, even when driving (especially in daylight hours when the roads are not slippery.) Let me tell you how it works.

It involves the five senses: sight, hearing, touch, smell and taste. What it does is it allows a person to notice their surroundings in concrete ways, and keeps them in the present. 

Let's pretend I'm driving on a nice sunny day, but my thoughts are whirling around things that might or might not happen, the health of a loved one, etc. I realize I'm doing this and that it's stressing me out, so I begin.

5. I pick FIVE things (one at a time and dwelling on each one) that I can see. I choose to enjoy the sight of it, either the color or the shape or whatever. So ... I see a blue house in the field over there. It has white shutters and looks like an old farm-house. It has a barn in the background and I smile as I think about how those who live there might enjoy a day like this, outside with the animals. That's one. Then I pick a second, dwelling on each one in my mind as I look at it. If I run out of things to see (which is unlikely while driving), I think about my favorite sights: a rainbow, a horse running in a field, and so forth. I enjoy each one; I take my time doing it.

4. Then, I pick FOUR things that I can hear. They could be the sound of the tires on the road, the music I'm listening to, and so forth. I take time to let each one come into my consciousness and make me smile. 

3. I pick THREE things that I can feel.  The cool of the fan on a hot day. The vibration of the steering wheel in my hand, and so forth.

2. Then I move to smell. I pick TWO things I can smell, or that I LIKE to smell. I let each one delight me.

1. Finally, I pick ONE thing that I can taste or that I love to taste... same idea.

Free Image by David Mark at Pixabay

By that time, I can tell that my shoulders are looser, my back less tense, and my breathing slower and deeper. The things I was stressing about seem a bit less important in the here and now than they were ten minutes ago.  

The above exercise is called a "grounding technique" and it is one tool that works to varying degrees for people who have anxiety, panic attacks, and/or flashbacks to traumatic events. It also cultivates gratitude, and reminds me that no matter what else is going on in my life, there is always something to appreciate, that the ability to experience the world is a tremendous gift, and that I'm okay in this present moment. 

There are more exercises - so many breathing exercises, for example, that focus on the here and now of your own breath. You don't have to be a yoga master, or practice Buddhism, to do them, just look them up on your favorite search engine. I find that 4-7-8 breathing is a good way to calm myself when I am over-stressed or nervous about a meeting or interview. I inhale slowly into my belly for the count of four, hold for the count of seven, and exhale slowly for the count of eight - and repeat again and again, until I am calmer and more at peace.  

Happy breathing everyone! I hope you have a really wonderful day.

Not yet ...

"Are we therrre yet?" This is the plaintive, whiny cry that Western parents have come to dread; it is the stuff of comedy sketches, sitcoms, and throw-away lines in kids' movies. I poke fun at it to cope with how annoying it is, but truth be told, often I succumb to the same lack of patience, that same intolerance of waiting. 

Waiting has never been my strong suit; I have mentioned it before. It seems that my whole life has been one long wait, interrupted with periods of frantic activity when things fall into place, followed by still more waiting for things to fall into place again. The waiting seems eternal.  And yet, looking back after things have fallen into place, I ask myself where the time went. I heard an expression today that reminded me of this - it had to do with parenthood: The nights are so long, but the years are so short.  I think the concept applies to all of life. The waiting is long, but life is so short.  

Lately, my waiting has taken the form of going through a Masters degree program in counseling. Sometimes, it feels like I have been in this waiting mode forever. Wait for the textbook to get here. Wait for my marks for Assignment Three. Wait for registration to open for the next term. Wait and wait and wait. And wait. Yet, sometime around the middle of last term, it struck me that I had less time ahead of me in my program of study than I had behind me. Realizing that caught me by surprise. So did the dominoes falling into place when I finally contacted the agency where I will be doing my practicum in a few short months (starting September 2018). The waiting felt like forever, but the interviews only took a couple of weeks to set up, and in one short, noon visit with them, they offered me an internship there. Just like that. 

And then the days got long again. Such a long stretch between that and the actual practicum that not even taking another course in between is enough to make it hurry up and get here. So there is a definite part of me that is whining, "Are we therrre yet?" 

Beautiful fall (September) leaves - pic
is from Pixabay.com

And of course the answer comes. Not yet.

Not yet. It's coming, but we're not quite there ... not yet. 

The days seem so long.

Only another week before I start getting my paperwork together (copy of my undergrad degree, certificates I've passed, criminal record check, etc.). Only another month before I can start looking for an apartment (I'm doing my practicum out of province). A little over two months and I'll be moving into that apartment. And in a year, I will be finished my practicum and starting to get my qualifying hours to be a licensed counselling therapist. WOW.

I keep telling myself these little things with the hopes that they will appease that impatient inner child. They do quiet the whining. But so far, the effects are temporary. And soon there will be another plaintive, "Are we therrre yet?"  And my adult self will say, "Not yet." And before long, I will add the word "Soon."

Soon there will be a full schedule. Soon there won't be enough hours in the day (even more than it is right now, which is hard to imagine). Soon, I will be dividing my time between practicum, school assignments, working to pay the bills, and somehow finding time to do all the things I rely on others for now: shopping, cleaning, cooking (okay well I do like to cook), washing dishes, tidying, laundry, and driving myself places instead of being driven. 

But not yet. Not yet. Not... yet. Hmmm. Wait a sec.  What about NOW?

Now is the time in which I am living. Now is when I can breathe, focus on the next task (however small or possibly unpleasant), and still make time for looking after my needs for sleep, nutrition, and other kinds of self-care. Today I helped spread mulch with my family to ease their load a bit, a rather rare thing for me, but I needed a break from studying and they were outside. So out I went. It was only 20 minutes, but it was a "now" thing. Not a wishing-it-could-be-September thing. Not a can't-wait-til-I-can-get-my-apartment thing. Not a oh-my-goodness-where-am-I-going-to-live thing. It was a NOW thing. 

NOW is when I can water my plants, do my assignments, help people at work, look after myself, teach my daughter more about how to prepare and cook things (expanding her knowledge about the basics of food preparation, for example) and enjoy every second I get to spend with her and with my husband. I can pet our cats - NOW. I can fold the laundry - NOW. I can do so many little things NOW. 

And if I focus on the now, there won't be enough time for me to ask if I'm there yet. Before I know it, "soon" will BE "now" - and in hardly any time at all, the years will have been so short. 

And I will wonder where they went.

Just Breathe

It started up again a couple of weeks ago. I hadn't felt like this since ... well, since every day was a stress of not knowing where my youngest daughter was, if she was okay, whether she'd ever find a home, and if I would ever see her alive again. My body hurt. Specifically, my stomach muscles hurt. And they were rock hard ... and not in a good way. They were hard in that clench tight, don't let go EVER, gotta hold it all together way.

And a couple of weeks ago, I felt that same pain. I hadn't even known that the stress had been building; it kind of crept up on me. I thought I had a hernia or something. And then I felt it ... my hand went to my stomach and I felt that same, hard ball of stress. Anxiety. Fear. What the - - where did THAT come from?

What was it? why was I stressing? Nothing huge was wrong - yet my body didn't know it. And as a result... OW. 

So as I engaged in some deep breathing to relax those muscles, I started reviewing all the possible causes - and what I realized was that it wasn't just any one thing, like it was before. It was a combination of lot of little tiny things. 

My health - getting better but a lot of changes in that this year: precancerous cells in my uterus, removal of same, recovery from the surgery, slow to bounce back because of diabetes. And plantar fasciitis from too much time on my feet a few months ago. Again, slow to recover due to diabetes.
My family - my husband turning a milestone number this year and me not far behind. Him getting closer to an August 2018 surgery to repair a torn bicep. Daughter slowly getting back on her feet from her injury five years ago - and taking the beginning steps of going back to school. (Not all stress is bad stress.)
My work - end of one kind of duties and start (or restart) of others. Uncertainty whether it will change yet again.
My extended family - mom with dementia, brother with major health issues, plus a number of toxic people trying to take over the situation.
My school - getting closer and closer to graduation, more behind me than in front of me. Uncertainty as to where I will do my practicum, and whether my job will give me the time off with pay to do that.  Deadline for practicum approval is now within 6 months. 

Hmm, quite a list. I found myself tensing up just typing it onto the screen. And that's not including other things that are too personal to write about.  Okay so there is a lot of stress, from a lot of things - some of them bigger than others. So how do I deal? 

Yeah, I can hear the advice - not something I wouldn't say to anyone going through it themselves - but this is different. This is ME. What's going to work for ME? 

I let my mind wander. What helps me in the everyday? What is something that I can latch onto, an easy memory trick to remind me to let go, to accept what I can't change, to change what I can and know which is which? 

Photo "Girl With Daisy" by
Claire Bloomfield at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Then I remember this little painted sign that the sister of a co-worker made for her out of a little rectangle of lumber. Painted black with white script lettering on it, she keeps it on her shelf. And she sits right across from me. 

The sign says "Just Breathe." (It looks a lot like the sign on the bottom of this pic.)

When I take notice of it, I can check in with myself and realize that I have resorted to shallow, quick breaths, the kind you take when you are expending a lot of effort while in state of anxiety or fear. 

Reminding myself to Just Breathe helps to untie the knots in my upper abdomen and realize that there are some things I just cannot control, nor should I try. They just are what they are. And if I take them one moment at a time, they're not that huge. They just are.

Tonight, as I take time to recharge, I think I will be thinking about that little sign. And I will do what it says.

Forever

Today is her birthday.
As if she'd ever let me - or anyone - forget.
She would have been 25.
But she's 21. Forever.

Forever young ... full of zest and zing
  and a hundred or two other things
  both maddening and endearing,
I remember the bad and good ... together.

Laughter - long and loud - left us in tears
  gasping for breath in spite of our fears,
  and echoes in my heart through the years
as hearty and raucous as ever.

Sometimes ... with a bang, the screen door closes
  and with a puff of wind and the faint scent of roses
  she rushes in, and yesterday composes
a sweet song as fleeting as a wisp of smoke.

Those moments, swift and elusive to capture
  dance around the black heart of disaster
  and call me instead to all of the rapture
she now enjoys - and oh, such unexpected joy!

See you later, my belle - Arielle - 
  I'll hold the torch, and keep it burning well
  until someday I hear the soundless bell 
and join you in Forever.

                              - - Judy Gillis
                                   (c) July 16, 2017

 

Standing up

The last year or so - at least the non-employment part - has been devoted to finishing my first year of a 3.3-year online Master's program in Counselling, which is designed to be taken by people who are working full-time and can't take 2 years off to go back to school. It's been a time of great learning and stretching of opinions, beliefs, and skills to the point where I wonder how I managed to survive this many years without some of the things I have only learned in the last year.  The experience has been nothing less than transformational. In many ways, it has been like I was taking life sitting down ... and now I am starting to stand up.

The first half of the school year was more about learning how to write to the standards expected of a graduate student in psychology, and to how to think critically (not to criticize but to examine the evidence and form informed opinions) about what I was reading.  I learned that I had opinions and that I would not be judged for them as long as I could back them up with hard evidence.  I found my voice; I learned that in my writing, I could start standing up. 

Then came the hard stuff!  

In the next course on infusing culture into counselling, I learned about the various non-dominant groups in Canada. We discussed various races, sexual orientations, faiths/beliefs, and physcial / mental abilities ... and we learned something about what each group experiences as discrimination by the dominant (that is, white, male, Judeo-Christian, able-bodied, and heterosexual) group.  I learned that just because a group is fewer in population does not make it a minority. In many places in Canada, whites are in the minority but are still dominant in the culture of that society: they hold the power and the privilege that being white (and / or Christian, male, heterosexual) affords them.  The course challenged (and yes, changed) many of my long-held beliefs and prejudices, and highlighted for me the privileges from which I had benefited all my life and of which I had been unaware.  It gave me a new appreciation for the reasons why so many non-dominant groups seem to be so militant and vocal about their plights.  And it opened my eyes in particular to the Canadian cultural genocide committed throughout the 1930s into the latter part of the 20th century:  the residential school system.  I have rarely been as horrified as I was by reading first-hand accounts of what happened to attempt to rid Canadian society of what was considered to be "the Indian problem."  It was just like reading the diaries of those Jewish people, or Jewish sympathizers, or homosexuals, who were sent to the concentration camps in Nazi Germany. Only ... it happened HERE.  In Canada.  That experience of learning in detail about these home-grown atrocities marked me forever.

Photo "Women Discussing Something Casually"
courtesy of stockimages at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

In the following courses on the more hands-on aspects of counselling, my practical skills were next to be targeted.  I learned that I already knew how to do what I would be doing for the rest of my professional life, but that I needed to be able to do it naturally and without having to stop and think about it.  The courses culminated in a three-week intensive face-to-face session in a city that was 3,000 miles away from my home, and at an altitude of over 3,000 feet above what I was used to living at.  I had my first taste of living on my own.  Parts of it were not too bad, and other parts (being away from my loved ones, for example) were abysmal.  Yet professionally, with practice at doing what I had wanted to do since the beginning, I was able to put the things I was learning into practice and watch myself not only do it, but do it well. My confidence grew in leaps and bounds.  Often I wanted to pinch myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming all of this!

But there was more; there IS more than just this one tiny piece of academia.  I have been learning some things about myself that I needed to learn, and that I have needed to learn for a very long time.  Some of these have been positive things about my own competencies and my own character - hence the increase in my confidence level especially over the last month. I have been learning that I have the right to stand up and to be counted among people whom I have just sat back and admired up until now.  It's a good feeling. It's new, and a bit strange perhaps, but it's good. 

And a few things that I have been learning about myself have been downright horrible.  These are painful lessons to be sure ... and things I will need to work on ... not just by myself but (I believe) they are things that will need to be addressed in therapy, since they are deeply ingrained in who I am, and in how I have come to define myself.  One of these things is my life-long terror of being abandoned, which has led me to become a chameleon with people, changing into the person I thought they wanted me to be, just so that they would like me. This has consistently had a domino effect on my relationships, because I can only sustain the chameleon colouring for so long. So, the pressure builds and builds as I deny my personhood and refrain from complaining so as to be around certain types of people, and then I explode! I therefore end up badly hurting their feelings when I overcompensate (in trying to practice self-care) to recover from the situation I created myself by just not being myself.  

That's just one of those things I am learning that will need to be addressed ... and changed. In a way, it is like I (because of fear) have been unable to stand up in the everyday situations of my life and relationships, and when I finally do stand up, it's suddenly, and without clear warning, and something (or someone) usually gets knocked down and could be irreparably damaged.  So I need help in not only standing up sooner in those situations, but in HOW to do that so that nobody gets hurt - including me.  

That's a lot of growing in just one year.  I know that in the year to come, I will grow even more, which I will need to do ... because after that, I will be starting to officially help people to find their own places of growth and healing.  It would kind of help to be able to do that from a place of mental wellness.  In essence, I need to learn how to stand up before I can sit down across from those who need help standing up themselves.

Moving on

The last time I wrote on Words That Stay, it was not long after losing our youngest child in a car crash. Even though life turned topsy-turvy in short order (!!) I found strength in love and faith ... serenity, and yes, courage to accept the things I could not change. Now, life changes rapid pace, and throws more curve balls at us. The university I was attending turned out not to be accepted by my province's counsellor's registration board (a fact that was downplayed by the university, hmmm). Which meant that I had to stop my studies in August 2014, and start from scratch somewhere else - and the place that worked out for me wasn't accepting new registrations for that academic year, but for the next one.

Further delays.

So, swallowing my pride, I applied in January for a September 2015 intake, and their decision will soon be made .. within the next couple of weeks. If accepted, the program will take 3.3 years. That's a long old road.

But, it will be slightly slower-paced, require more practicum hours (more means a better quality graduate, haha) and be way better on the cash flow (always good).

I've also been moving forward in other areas of my life (such as getting much-needed medical attention rather than "suffering through it" for a physical issue, and paying more attention to my mental health), and letting other things lapse. I've been releasing ambitions I once had that take up too much energy and cause me more stress than they're worth. I've been standing up for myself a bit more, as hard as that is!! And I'm slowly accepting the fact that not everyone has to like me and that I'm no less important just because someone doesn't like me (this is a HUGE step forward). 

Photo "Black Board" by
bulldogza at
www.freedigitalphtos.net

I'm learning again and again that friendship is something very precious, and that you don't surround yourself with people who are toxic to you or who don't understand you, no matter how much they say they care. 

This applies even if the label they say they wear is the same as the one you say you wear. It also applies to those who think they have a right to have a say because they're "family." 

Regardless of the calling card that makes someone think that I am just like him or her, or that we have a common history or affiliation, I'm learning that trust is earned and that not everyone is trustworthy. These are hard lessons to learn for someone who (at the core) is an idealist. 

I'm learning that I can trust my Higher Power to keep my confidences, to listen to me, to care about me and to go before me to prepare my path, whatever that path is. 

I'm learning to prioritize the goals that I have and to reach and work for those which are most important to me. All these things I feel I should have learned so long ago; yet, I am learning them now - which is better than never learning them at all. 

A fresh slate in the school of life is humbling, but it's also full of possibility. I wonder what possibilities are around THIS corner...

Accepting change

I've not written on "Words That Stay" in almost a year, mostly because life keeps throwing new things at me and I've been a lot more busy than I've ever been.

The last year has brought many things. I am looking at celebrating five years in recovery on February 28. It's amazing to think of how my life has transformed in that short space of time. I am so grateful because the "recovery lifestyle" I learned, and am still learning, has been responsible for everything that is good and special in the last five years, even during the hard times.

In May or June 2013, I decided to go back to school and get my certification to become a counselor, and in September I started my graduate program at an online university, where I spend at least 25 hours a week reading, doing assignments and participating in class discussions. When I'm not at school I am at work, working full-time, or at church, and occasionally at a recovery meeting.

In the middle of all of that, my youngest daughter moved away from home, tried to make a new start, and in a twist of events that can only be described as tragic, was killed in a car crash in late October, just as she was starting to turn her life around. She was 21.

I know she would have wanted me to keep on with my studies, because she was so proud of me for going back to school ... even though school was never a place where she herself felt safe. So instead of dropping out, or even taking a break, I continued on in her honor. I miss her so very much, but I can feel her encouragement when I am tired, and her joy when I get a good mark. It's like I have my own unseen cheerleader. ☺ ♥ 

The addition of grad school to my already-full schedule means that life is much busier. It's true that I'm spending just as much of my at-home time on the computer as I did before; it's just that now, I'm doing it because I have to, for school. So, my writing has taken a back seat for a while. Blogging has become something I do when I need to take a break from my schedule, or when I have gotten a little bit ahead on my studies. 

Photo "Winding Road" courtesy of pixbox77 at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Change was never something I felt comfortable with. Not knowing what was beyond the next bend in the road was (and still is, to some extent) frightening. I like to have things predictable, and the events of the last year have really stretched me in that way. What I'm learning is that the only thing that stays the same is the fact that things change - and they can change in a split second. 

And it's not just events that change. Attitudes, thoughts, beliefs, knowledge, ... they all change, develop, evolve. As I've been studying more about counseling, I have been pushed to examine how I see people, how I see the world, and how I see myself. I've been challenged to accept people, to accept that there are different ways of thinking, and especially to accept change. 

My world is expanding. Things I never could see myself doing before ... I find myself actually doing, and liking. Things like listening to people, taking an interest in their stories, and letting them talk out their own solutions to their problems are all part of what is brand new territory for me. Oh, to be sure, I've done some of those things with my friends, but now I find that my skills are developing and so is my interest in more than just my own little world. I no longer have the luxury of being a spectator as the universe passes me by. I find that I have a part to play in that grand scheme of things - and as terrifying as that is, it is also quite exhilarating. 

Instead of railing at change (as I once did, kicking and screaming as I was dragged into it) I am learning to face it and accept it with the attitude that if it's happening, there must be some purpose for it. Usually I can see the benefit in it, as long as I'm honest with myself, open to whatever I'm being taught, and willing to take that first step. 

I guess it all boils down to faith, really. Do I believe that the intentions of my Higher Power toward me are good? Am I willing to put my trust in that, to lean my full weight onto that goodness? Or am I just going to shut down and cut myself off from all of the opportunities that He has placed in my path - cleverly disguised as challenges? As long as I trust His motives, I can accept change. Even embrace it.

Besides, I'm kind of wondering what's around that next bend in the road.

Wisdom to Discern

It's wonderful to see the transformation in me when I am given the serenity to accept what (and who) I cannot change. It is like ripples in a pond - others are automatically touched when I've found my center and grow in my relationship with myself and with God. 

It's amazing what can happen in my attitudes and interpersonal relationships when God grants me the courage to change the things I can change. 

But discernment ... knowing what things I can change and what things I cannot - that's a bit trickier. Often I spin my wheels trying to change the realities of life because I think I can control them. I can't. I never could. That's why I pray for wisdom. 

Wisdom is one of those "don't-leave-home-without-it" gifts. Everyone has probably heard the story of Solomon, who was considered the wisest man who ever lived. When he became king, God came to him in a dream and told him that he could ask for one thing, and it would be given to him. Solomon's response was one of humility, teachability. "I don't know how to lead this great people. I'm just a kid! Please give me wisdom, so that I can tell what is the right thing to do and what isn't, so that I can lead Your people well." (Judy's paraphrase version.)  Because Solomon asked for wisdom, and not for fame or for riches, God gave him what he asked and then some more beside! Over and over again in the Proverbs, wisdom is the principal theme of Solomon's writings. Plus, it is the one thing in the New Testament that we are promised will be given to anyone freely every time if we ask God for it. (See James 1:5) 

Pinging along from crisis to crisis isn't necessary. When I take the time to ask God for wisdom to know what to do, for direction to decide which way to go, whether to accept what is, or to change something, or even whether to stand still and wait - (hardest. thing. ever.) - and I actually listen for the answer, He opens the door or doors through which I am to go, or provides a place of peace for me to rest. It's uncanny.  

Rainbows remind me
to trust

 A wonderful friend of mine, whom I admire a lot, has - on occasion - called me a wise person. It's high praise and I take it as such ... but the wisdom doesn't come from me; it's a gift. So when she calls me wise, and because I know myself enough to see how far there is yet to go, it reminds me how much I have yet to learn, to apply in my life. And it gives me another gift: a good dose of humility, because I know that without God, I'd be messing up big time. All the time. I know because that's what happens on every occasion when I think I can handle things by myself without any help from Him.

I can't.

Dependence on God (which I've always considered to be the "fear of the Lord" or respect for His wisdom and the fact that He knows all things and has the final say) for me has been the beginning of wisdom, where it starts. In every circumstance, in every area of my life, in every decision with which I am faced, I can ask for wisdom, and it will be given to me, just the right amount at the right moment. 

All I need to do is listen for the answer,  quiet my mind's screaming meamies, and truly expect direction. It will come.  It always comes.

Every time.

Courage to change

I pray the Serenity Prayer. A LOT. 

Sometimes - when I have been struggling with someone else's decisions impacting on my life - I even pray the codependent's version of it: "God, grant me the serenity to accept the people I cannot change, the courage to change the person I can, and the wisdom to know it's me."

Acceptance of things I can't change is one thing.  I talked about that in my last post on this blog.

The other side of the coin, and one which still is a challenge for me just as much as acceptance ever was, is courage to change what I can. 

My responsibility is to work on myself, on my relationship with myself, on my relationship with God, on my relationships with other people. My responsibility - my realm, so to speak - is to concentrate on knowing and being true to my true self.  Not the facade that I am sometimes tempted to dig out and put on, but the real me - the one I am becoming for what is probably the first time in my life. . . at least that I can remember. 

Changing involves hard work - and most of all, courage. 

I find it really interesting that we get the word "courage" from the Latin word for "heart" - in fact, the word "heart" in French (most of which comes from Latin) is cœur. In essence, courage means "heart-fulness." 

That's cool. 

It takes bravery, guts if you will, to live from the fulness of the heart, because the heart can so easily be injured, pierced through with unkindness, rejection, and anger... and so many more things.  

Since I started living this lifestyle of rigorous honesty, of letting go, of being real, ... living from  my heart is one of the main tenets, one of the foundational principles, on which I base my thinking and my decisions.  I pray for courage in my daily life - nearly as much as I pray for serenity. The changes that have come about in my life have been due to having been given the heart-fulness - the courage - to live one day at a time AS ME. Nobody else, no masks or games. I spent the first year of my recovery from being a chameleon, a people-pleaser, a door-mat and a "fixer" ... getting to know that person who I really was, the one who was beneath all the layers of hurt and the walls of self-protection built up over decades of being put down so much that I believed those lies in the core of my being. 

I've said it before and I'll keep saying it ... real healing starts on the inside and goes toward the outside. An exterior change will stay exterior ... and it won't last. I want LASTING transformation. So, I've been focusing on the inside changes - the ones that only those who are closest to me would notice. How I think. How I react to things. What I consider important. What my priorities are. These are the things that will eventually - I believe - show on the outside. It might take some time because the habits of decades take time to reverse. However, they are possible. 

I just need to keep focused on those internal, unseen changes that matter (not the external ones that don't) . . . even when the external ones eventually start showing up.

First Things First: Are They?

Priorities: everyone has them.

Family. Work. Friends. Money. Leisure. And oh yes, God. And somewhere in there ... me?  It's one thing to have priorities, another thing to put them in the right order - and a whole different ball of wax to be true to them.

It's really worth the extra time it takes to list them out and put them in order - not necessarily on paper, although if that helps, why not? 

Priorities wheel found at
Women on the Fence

However, the exercise doesn't end there. It's not enough for me to say that this or that is most important (or SHOULD be - I hate the word "should" ... just saying), A followed by B, C, D and E. It's useful to examine, for starters, how much time I spend on the things I say are priorities, and find out whether some things need to be adjusted in my daily schedule. 

There are core priorities that I'd call "anchors" - these aren't just a matter of how much time I spend on them, in the sense of compartments in my life that don't touch each other, but rather, how they affect my decisions in every facet of life. They consist of core relationships: with God, with myself, and the outflow of those things: principles, beliefs, and character. 

If those things are in place, a lot of the guesswork involved in figuring out how to spend my time or what I should do next ... just fades away.  

It's not a perfect world

Nevertheless, it isn't a perfect world. Things change. Unexpected events happen: money troubles creep in, relationships begin ... or end, someone important to me moves away, another friend just moves onto a different path, someone else's social or political agenda affects mine, and my carefully-laid foundations can get shaken. I get hurt. I doubt myself. I doubt God. I question my ability to know what He wants; I question His love and care for me. I am unsure about my place in the world.  I become suspicious of others' motives.

Life has a way of throwing tantrums: circumstances scream at me in such a way that the peripheral things - the things that don't matter so much, the urgent things - tend to take center stage for a while. I lose touch with - or flat-out deny - what I'm feeling. Or why. (Big mistake!)  Before I know it, the priorities have started to shift, and I'm not exactly sure what's happened. All I know is that I feel uncomfortable, as if something is not quite right. Stress builds; unhappiness niggles at me, tugs at my sleeve. I get fatigued. If I ignore that, the discontent grows stronger, and I feel like I'm dragging myself around. Everything becomes an effort - even things I enjoy doing. Little things people say or do to me become huge - even things they don't say or do. I begin to perceive that I'm being attacked or persecuted ... when in fact, no such thing is happening. (A colleague told me once, "It's not like these people are laying awake at night trying to figure out ways to deliberately ruin your day." That helped me get some perspective.) 

When I step back and look at what I've allowed to take the spotlight, that's when it makes sense. That's why it's crucial for me to not just do the mental exercise of setting priorities once; I need to do it on a regular basis to make sure that the things that need to be at the center of my life are actually staying there, or if they've been upstaged by things that could have waited their turn ... instead of slowly (yet just as rudely as if it happened quickly) bumping to the front of the line.

If I allow that to happen, my spiritual and mental unrest will have physical consequences eventually. My body will become unwell - and it will force me to "lie down in green pastures." I will get sick, that is. The physical symptoms of stress will come to the fore: headaches, stomach troubles, joint aches, even a lowering of the immune system so that I succumb to some sort of virus. On the flat of my back, a lot of priorities become so clear - and I begin to get them straight and live in gratitude again. 

There was a time when I had to be laid flat out in bed every time, in order for me to pay attention to what really mattered. I can't say that never happens now - just that it's not as often. I guess life has beaten me down enough times for me to be able to catch the warning signs more quickly than before. Or maybe I'm growing spiritually ... stranger things have happened!   ;)

Who knew?

What I do know is that since I gave my will and my life over to Him all over again (approximately March/April 2009), I've noticed a difference - albeit slow, but a difference nonetheless. 

 Perhaps He took me at my word.