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

Love Heals

I have often berated myself for being so sensitive and for feeling things so deeply. No more.

After Fiona, 2018

I have grown as a person, and a big part of being a human being is feeling things. I don't want to be that person who doesn't feel, who is cold and impersonal, who cannot empathize with others' emotions. Yes, it's dangerous to be that open and vulnerable, but to close myself off from that part of me is to die inside. I have healed from too much to be stifled now.

• I've learned that any relationship that steals my peace is not worth the sacrifice.
• I've learned that my emotions will let me know if a relationship is safe or not.
• I've learned (and am continuing to learn) that I need to trust myself, to trust my gut reactions, because they know something my logical mind cannot process. 

In so doing, I am learning to love who I am more than I used to. And that this is a good thing. One cannot pour from an empty cup. I now spend time filling my own cup from the source of unconditional Love, and by reaching out to others who love me for who I am.

These are thoughts I have been pondering over the course of the last couple of weeks. If feeling weak or more sensitive is a by-product of this process, then I remind myself that I have grown enough to allow myself to experience these feelings and process them rather than hide from them in Denial.

It feels good, this new space.

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.

The present

In my last post on this blog, written in May of this year, I was talking about waiting for the next phase of my degree, my practicum. I spoke of it as a destination and of the plaintive cry of someone on a journey asking if we were there yet. 

But as it turned out, the practicum was not a destination, but only the beginning of another journey - one that took a sudden turn I wasn't (but should have been) expecting: basically, my practicum supervisor fired me. The sense of failure was very real, and I began to question everything about the last ten years of my life: my recovery from codependency, my personal growth, my relationships with my extended family members, my desire to become a therapist, my self-image as a kind and compassionate person, and my suitability for a helping profession. It was quite wrenching - traumatic - overwhelming.

In addition, the shock of that experience tipped me over the edge emotionally and after the initial days and days of crying, it's like the water that overflowed the dam just froze in place. Nothing penetrated. Nothing affected me. I could not feel sad, or happy, or angry, or worried. Sleep was fitful and gave me no real rest; motivation went out the window. I started to isolate myself from things, lost interest in the things I loved to do (music, word games, etc.) and just buried myself in escapist behaviors: binge-watching shows I had seen so many times I could recite the dialogue, mostly.

So I sought professional help. I asked my doctor about it and he put me on an antidepressant and referred me to a psychologist. I have my first appointment with her next month. And although I didn't want to do it, I forced myself to do certain things for myself: read something inspirational every day, brush my teeth every day, eat regular meals, and find something to do that got me out of the house once in a while. 

Photo by Tirachard Kumtanom from Pexels

And - of late - I have been pondering the idea of staying in the moment, and not thinking about the past or the future. Like yesterday morning. I had eaten my breakfast and was finishing my coffee when I saw a box of Turtles (TM) on the table. I decided that I would like to eat one. Just one. Slowly. And as I bit into it, there was a part of me that said, "Hey. You'll be late for work. This is ridiculous. You're wasting time here. You have to get your makeup on and pack up your stuff to go." And from somewhere inside of me came another voice, one that said, "No. Just enjoy this moment. This is self-care. Taste the taste, really focus on it." And I did. When I was done, that part of me said, "Now, see? THAT is being in the moment. Nothing more simple than that." And I realized that I had rushed through so much of my life trying to get to the destination or the next big thing, and missed out so much on the "in-between" stuff of everyday life: the journey of thousands of moments.

It is a new learning experience for me, this 'savoring the moment' notion. It is this moment right now that I have: the now. Who was it that said, "Yesterday is history; tomorrow is a mystery. Today is a gift - that is why it is called the present"? 

In that same vein, I received another unexpected present this morning, before we even opened our gifts. Our little family was having breakfast together, talking about a movie we had watched together recently, "The Greatest Showman" (which I highly recommend, by the way!), and we were saying how all the little threads of P.T. Barnum's life, which seemed so random and unrelated to each other, the glad and the sad and the mad, weaved themselves together in his life to show him his purpose and help him fulfill his dream. And that's when it hit me. All of those things in my life - glad, sad, and mad - also had purpose and were being woven together in me in the present. 

That was the gift I had been given, and even though it was not yet complete, I caught a glimpse - a freeze-frame, if you will - of becoming who I am meant to be.  In the moment, in the now, in the present, weaving the past threads together, the dark and the bright and the gray and the colored threads that seem so purposeless by themselves seemed, for one brief moment, to coalesce. 

And in that moment, I felt something. For the first time in weeks, I felt something! An emotion, a state of being, a ... whatever you want to call it. The closest I can come to describing it is by calling it hope. But it was not the wishing-for kind of hope. It was more an assurance that I am where I am supposed to be, even if it is hard. That right now is a gift: the Present. That it is okay to be where I am. And my throat tightened, and my nose stung, and tears welled up and spilled over onto my face. 

And I lifted my face upward and whispered, "Thank You." 

I ... am ... enough

I was reading in Brené Brown's book, Daring Greatly, today during a few moments of self-care time, when I realized that it had been a long time since I had made time for structured self-care! Lately, I have been so frantic about doing what I do (wife, mother, employee, boss, daughter, sister and student) and doing it well in all areas, (what does it matter that I only get three to five hours of sleep a night? right?) that I didn't realize I was once more heading down the path toward co-dependency, or as I have been calling it, "doormat-itis." Or being "Champion of the Underdog."

I had been focusing way too much on what folks expected of me and on the standards others had placed upon me (which I was trying to live up to) that I had lost sight of who I was. Again. WOW that's a slippery slope!! I realized this as I was in the process of unfriending someone on Facebook who had given me yet one more standard or expectation to live up to, one which I do not agree with, and who then proceeded to attack me about some choices I had made, which this person didn't agree with. The person had listened to other people's version of things, and convinced themselves that I was in error and just needed to see the "truth" ... but... and just as I trailed off there, I caught myself spiraling down into the abyss of self-protection, crusading, and other self-defeating thinking. I was taking on too much, and I was taking things in my loved ones' circumstances way too personally because I was the white knight, the defender, the rescuer, the protective "Mama bear" who would defend her own. It was killing me.

Photo "Young Lady Holding Umbrella" by
imagerymajestic at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

 As I was pondering this while reading Ms. Brown's book, I came across this statement and it rocked me back on my heels! 

"We have to believe we are enough in order to say, 'Enough!' " (pp. 144-145). 

 My umbrella of self-care, my affirmations from when I was in therapy, my learning to let go, ... I had forgotten it all - and this "enough!" statement brought me back to those hard-learned lessons and made me remember three very important things: (1) I am worthy of love and belonging (as Brené Brown says), (2) helping someone is a great and noble cause, but when it comes at the expense of my own mental health, I have invested too much of myself, and (3) when I catch myself slipping back into those old patterns, it is time to remember where and what my boundaries are, and to live within them.  This reminds me that others have boundaries as well, and (as hard as it is for me to accept) other people don't have to like me or agree with everything I do in order for me to like myself. I had done all I could do in this circumstance I mentioned, and whether someone agreed with my actions or my beliefs or my choices was irrelevant. The only thing that mattered was that I was following my conscience and that I have remained true to myself. The rest is of no consequence. 

Am I going to apologize? Am I going to re-friend this person? No. I didn't do anything against my conscience, and others' opinions of my choices are not my concern. I don't need to surround myself with people who can find nothing better to do than criticize someone else over something that is none of their business. That puts them (in their minds) in a position of superiority over me, and then I try to assert my superiority, and so on and so forth. I am not playing those games anymore. Will this person ever change their mind? Probably not. But again, that is not my concern. They are going to think what they are going to think, and nothing I say or do will change that. 

I need to be courageous about this lifestyle of letting go, because all of my life, I was hammered into thinking that what other people thought of me mattered, and I became a chameleon and by the end of it, I didn't even know who I was anymore. I have been slipping back into that mind-set. I am going to stop now. I am done with being afraid. I am tired of putting on the junkyard dog mask to hide that fear.  

What I am going to do is follow something that a co-worker's sister made for her. She has some writing, white on black, on a little sign on her bookshelf - two little words in beautiful script writing - "Just Breathe." It reminds me to breathe deeply. And in that breath, I remind myself that I am enough. That I am worthy. That I am loved. That I am all of these things and more besides. That I need to let go of my need for approval. That I need to let go of the need to prove that I am right. That I remember to let go.  

What a relief. Maybe tonight, for the first time in weeks, I will be able to sleep through the night without nightmares or anxious thoughts waking me up. I sure hope so...

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...

Let Go - Let God

It hangs in just about every recovery room I have been in. Along with several other slogans, like "First Things First" and "Honesty" and "Humility" .... there it sits.

"LET GO - LET GOD." 

I used to think I knew what that meant. I guess, to a certain degree, I did (and do). However, the further I get into recovery from control-freaking and doormat-itis, the more I am convinced that I don't know what it is, because it appears I have to keep learning it. 

"Anchor and Navigation" courtesy of njaj at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Or maybe it's just something that comes with practice. If so, I get to practice it. A LOT. 

Especially since getting into recovery nearly 4 years ago now. Stuff happens, and I'm allowed to feel what I feel - that part I'm getting, so it's not such a stretch for me anymore (even if it is pretty tumultuous at times!)  It's the "letting go" part that's never easy ... and the "letting God" part seems just as hard now as it was the first time!! 

However, the depth of experience I have been getting in that area convinces me that this letting go and letting God is the only way to navigate the storms of life, to ride them out, maybe even to be a little happier. I'm learning to own my own stuff and let others own theirs. That's sometimes really hard to do, especially when the current attitude and expectation of our society toward certain types of relationships (such as the parent-child one) tends to front-end-load them with a feeling of responsibility for the way someone else thinks or feels. 

It's an illusion. How someone else reacts to their stuff is not my responsibility. The outcome I want in his or her life is not my responsibility. It's the responsibility of the person with whom I am in relationship. If I hang on - even a little bit - I will end up pushing the person away from the very thing I so desperately want him or her to embrace. 

I know this - deep down. 

I guess I just need more practice.

Serenity to Accept

It's humbling to admit that you've lived most of your life in a state of denial. That's where I have lived most of my life. 

Mostly I've denied my own powerlessness to change one or more things about people - either myself or the people I love. I liked to think that I could manipulate a situation ... or a person ... even resorting to intimidation at times, so they would be funneled into a course of action that would benefit me. 

I was wrong. Yet it took me nearly five decades to realize it. 

My manipulation took the form of emotional blackmail, usually. It is something that I still struggle with, on occasion. I'd treat the behavior of someone else as an attack on me personally so as to make that person feel guilty and therefore do what I wanted. They'd do what I wanted, all right, and resent me for it. Or, I'd overreact to a decision someone else had a right to make, and refuse to participate in it, ruining their enjoyment of it. 

Occasionally, I'd even lose my temper and make people afraid to cross me in certain areas - ruling and controlling by making them feel threatened, unsafe.

It's not something I'm proud of. But it happened. Frequently. 

About two months into a healing process that for me took a total of a year, I was introduced to the concept of acceptance - an acceptance that is based on my total inability to change any person, any outcome, any situation - acceptance of what is and that which cannot be changed. It involved learning to let go of my need to control something - ANYTHING - about someone or something. 

Within weeks of that mental attitude shift, my loved ones - those closest to me - noticed, in a way bordering on astonishment. "What's with Mom? why isn't she freaking out?" I heard whispered behind me. And I'd smile to myself. Of course it wasn't easy to let go, to NOT "freak out" - but the dividends paid off every time, and the positive response was incentive to keep at it. I got to like the way my relationships strengthened when I let people be who they were without fear of my disapproval or my other equally unpleasant responses to their beliefs, choices, and words. 

In fact, the more I practiced the skill of letting go, the more I realized how many things there were over which I had no control, much as I would have liked. Even things I had always thought I could influence - and sometimes I could - I discovered that I had no right to touch. 

Having grown up in a dysfunctional home, I never knew that anyone had a right to have boundaries. Nothing was ever private; nothing was beyond the scrutiny and judgment of others who wielded power (real or imagined) over me and my brothers. Everything was everybody else's business. The only boundary there was pertained to the shroud of secrecy that covered anything that happened inside the four walls of the homestead. Everything else, though, was fair game. Every word, action, thought was subject to being evaluated, praised or condemned after it passed through the parental filter.... and by parental I mean that every adult in the whole family (and extended family: aunts, uncles, grandparents) felt he or she had the right to pass judgment on the appearance, words, and beliefs of everyone else, especially every child.  The children, on the other hand, had no right to do the same to the parents. Infractions of this code were met with swift and severe punishment.

Nobody ever questioned this fact of life. The attitude was that as soon as we grew up and had families of our own, we would have the same right they exercised on a daily basis, with our own children. 

When I began to heal from that toxic atmosphere, which unfortunately carried into adulthood, I realized more and more that this assumption of the right to pass judgment on others was not just dysfunctional, it was downright sick and wrong. I familiarized myself intimately with the notion that everyone has boundaries, and that these boundaries need to be respected - including mine. That knowledge helped me figure out what, who and where I needed to let go, to accept not only who and what I couldn't change but who and what I had no right to change even if I could. 

And even then, I had (and have) no power in myself to accept those things and people that I need to accept. That power comes from above - from the peace of my continued relationship with God. Knowing and resting on the fact that God looks after me, that He is calmly and lovingly in control of all things - including me, including those I love, including every circumstance - gives me the strength and the serenity to accept what I cannot change.

This is not a fatalistic acceptance either. It is an active choice to allow people to be who they are, to let them make their own decisions and to let them live with the consequences of their own actions, no matter how much I am tempted to make it easier for them. It is a decision to not rail against circumstances, to not take them personally, to realize that everyone has "stuff" and that it's okay to feel what I feel about it, experience it and then let it go. 

The lifestyle I'm learning is like being handed a new key ring that unlock doors previously closed to me, opening pathways I never dreamed possible. Acceptance was the first key I learned how to use - and I have used it every day since. I have discovered, over time, that it is the first key to something that eluded me before, but which I have been able to experience more and more: happiness.