Tag: #sortingthroughemotions

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Hog Heaven and a pit bull named Iceman

So we (Courtney, Rian (twin A), and myself) are sitting here waiting for Tyler to have a therapy session. We are trying out the fit on a new family therapist. She has some big shoes to fill, Fran was one of a kind. We were all reading, but then I had a moment of inspiration.

Recently we had to have our furnace replaced and last night Courtney and I walked up to the home of the neighbor who did the job. We were taking him the second half of a very large payment, ouch. Anyway I often think how lucky one is to be able to be in a profession that they can benefit by cutting the costs in their own lives. So for example: a plumber’s family never has to worry about that aspect of home ownership. And then there are those real handy people (typically in my experience men) who seem to be able to fix anything in the home. Those are the ones I admire the most. I am in fact so interested in trying to be more efficient financially I would almost trade in my true sexuality for such a man. Just kidding sweetie. But seriously it seems so unfair that I can’t fix all of the hurts and issues that currently plague our home. Why can’t we take advantage of low cost, free really… in home therapy?

I mean I am sure we benefit from all the “family meetings” that my kids adore so much. They probably wish they had those normal parents that do what they are supposed to, but are careful not to venture into unknown territory. Afraid to shake up the system by having difficult conversations. Folks difficult conversations are the cornerstones of growth.

Things have been hard in our home lately. Resentments have been built between my children and currently they are holding onto anger in their hearts, and forgetting the true value in one another. And all the family meetings in the world don’t seem to be fixing it, because since I am Mom (and when I’m a therapist it’s annoying;)) I am rendered useless except when it comes to rides and money. Oh and cooking and cleaning.

I worry a little extra when this happens. This is because my Mom and my Aunt never grew up. They never evolved and I have watched their lives unfold; it appears quite unhappy from the great distance of safety I keep between us. Across that great divide I see lonely and sad women who spent their life hating one another. They never gave in. Never relented in holding the other in the absolute worst regard possible. My Mom was “the welfare bitch” who got everything handed to her, for what… having a child out of wedlock and tarnishing the family? And my Aunt was “a lonely cat lady who nobody wanted”. Every Christmas was the worst affair you can imagine. It has taken me a long time to create my own magic to holidays and leave the past behind.

I remember my grandparents having to carefully select just the right amount of gifts at the same value for each so no trouble occurred and they would still find something to fight about. My Aunt actually stayed living with my grandparents until her late 30’s at least I believe as a statement that if my Mom was going to get support she deserved it too. Would a person really stunt their own life’s growth as a means to stick it to “whomever”, their parents I guess or each other? She stayed and fought for her equal right to a place in the support of her parents.

These two used to take me off the shelf like a porcelain doll, except nobody was gentle with me. Random memory: My grandma collected porcelain dolls, they were creepy. Anyway if my Mom wanted to play Mom for a day she would entice me with some event making it sound fun, but it was always in her interest, it was not about spending time with me. If my aunt wanted to take me out, she was lonely and looking for companionship. She seemed to mean well and did try to take me to do nice things, but usually not without a few comments about my Mother along the way. And also without considering anything about what’s appropriate for a child. On one particular outing she took to see Silence of the Lambs, I was eleven. I also was highly sensitive (way before I knew what that was), and slept on my grandmas floor for months. Still to this day would probably never be able to help someone broken down on the side of the road.

This doesn’t mean I don’t have good memories of them, and this is the most confusing part. But for any nice or fun thing they did, their behavior along the way was so uncomfortable, and the way they treated each other so frustrating, the costs outweighed the benefits by far. I was a puppy begging to be loved, rambunctious and wild. I was outspoken and as soon as I found my own voice and stood up for myself, they didn’t like spending time with me much anymore. But not before my childhood was filled with uncertainty and chaos.

I lived above a bar called Hog Heaven once. The owner’s name was Paul, and he had a white pit bull named ice man. As a side note: I believe that relationship ended by her kicking him in the balls and throwing his engagement ring out into the grass (I’ve heard tell he’s still looking for it). They brought me Shirley temples and beef jerky for dinner. I thought it was great for a day or two, then I begged to be back in the safety of my grandparents arms. I was a novelty item, that nobody could quite figure out. But everyone was willing to lean on if I was willing to bare the brunt, and I usually am. I have always been strong. Sometimes I think it’s the best thing I know how to do, and some of the other important things like being soft and gentle, they don’t come as easily. Thankfully my partner now compliments me quite well in that way. And also I have learned we are not meant to be everything to everyone. We are a piece to fit together with other pieces to make the whole. Or at least with regard to taking on a gigantic task like parenting.

So here I sit in humble waiting in the therapist office as a woman we have just met replaces some of the nurturing parts for him that I couldn’t yet find in my youth, perhaps I never will. But the good news is I have found a way for that to be ok. As this woman helps my son know he no longer needs to be worried about his mother because I have travelled worlds away from whence I came. And because I heal daily alongside the other wounded and searching, and that is the best decision I ever made. My career constantly grows me and holds me accountable.

Journey on warriors, you never know what is around the next bend. There are always moments to appreciate, even when there is also much struggle. I still remember those delicious virgin drinks from “Hog Heaven” and Paul and iceman, and the way it felt to ride in my mom’s 84 Pontiac Firebird listening to loud rock music, the wind in our hair. A far cry from the grandparents church hymns. My mother was a mad woman, but to that little girl at that time she looked exciting and full of life. My childhood was eclectic and it carried lots and lots of lessons. I’m hoping to turn them into stories and to re-experience it in a new way as I do. I can write about it now because it no longer haunts me how it used to.

Anyway the hour is up, his therapy, and mine (writing) as well. Our reward is Bella Napoli Pizza and some much needed family relax time. Minus twin B who is studiously working on a project this evening and will be greatly missed.

Enjoy the little things…. every little thing…

P.s believe it or not these are not the twins! They look more like twins though 😉

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Untangling my emotions about senseless violence…

There are a great many things I have been inspired to write about since my last post. Certainly there were more events during my getaway that were worth recalling and sharing. Also there have been many hurdles in the parenting arena for me to scale as of late. However, the thing I absolutely cannot just brush past to be able to access any of those, is this mornings newest episode of senseless MASS violence. My heart is aching audibly this morning. As I scan past the many different reactions from people on my social media platforms I am spending some time sorting through my emotions.

You see we have to make a choice about where we want to land with all our feelings and thoughts. I always say it isn’t the lengths or depths of where our mind takes us, but the choices about which thoughts to hold close and encourage, and  which to hold and comfort perhaps, but also let pass on. Which do we breathe life into, and which do we create space for but not want to hold too tightly or make a part of ourselves. Our thoughts can very easily become beliefs, and core beliefs are very powerful operants in our lives. Our ego can even subconsciously expend much energy in an attempt to fulfill these beliefs.

Quietly reverent I am here trying to sort through this mess. As an empath for me the easiest thing to do would be to separate myself from this altogether. To just remain far removed as emotionally, as I am physically from the event itself. This just seems unfair to those who are not afforded the ability to do so. As if my solidarity can be lent in the time I give of myself to imagine the suffering in the hearts of those directly and those of us indirectly affected. The truth is that this could have been any of us this is happening to. An even bigger question is how not to lump this in with the current political climate and become even more embittered.

There was a period of time in my personal life that I actually traumatized myself by “going too far into the shoes of those experiencing such events”. I was persuing my Bachelor’s Degree in Psychology at the time of the Colorado Movie Theater Shooting. I was trying to experience the full spectrum of humanity and it felt disingenous to my degree to not explore the dark sides as thoroughly as the light. I poured over headlines and devoured anything on the topic I could find, My mind sought understanding around these events. In an attempt to walk myself through them I began to imagine what it might have felt like to think you were just going to a showing of a movie and suddenly someone get’s up and begins to shoot. What would I feel like? How terrified? Would I be brave or would I be a chicken? What might it feel like for a bullet to burn through my skin. I imagine even worse the anticipation that at any moment this could happen. I allowed my mind to play with all possibility, and as a result I couldn’t see a movie without having a panic attack for a very long time. I also couldn’t attend a fun loving event like a St. Patrick’s Day parade with my children in tow, without wondering if perhaps this time we would be the unlucky ones. What I ended up finding is that if you let yourself identify too much you can easily run the risk of never leaving your home.

So the question here is what does one do with events like these? How do we make sense of them? How do we offer up our care and concern, while also protecting ourselves? If we become too disheartened we cannot be helpful. My Grandpa always used to say “if you aren’t part of the solution then you are part of the problem”. I didn’t love hearing it then, but I often use it in my practice now.

It feels unfair that I can sit and contemplate my fitness journey and the fact that I made it to the gym this morning. It feels like it somehow pales in comparison. There are several hundred people (minimum) who woke up this morning with their lives deeply affected by tragedy.

As I sit with my feelings on this the answer the floats most closely to the surface seems to be focusing on the courage of people. At a more micro level for example, a session with a client who is celebrating the anniversary of a child’s death. Someone taken long before they should have been. I have a deep appreciation for the courage in human beings. Their brave hearts beat a decibel above the throbbing pain, somehow keeping it just manageable. We get but a series of profound moments in our lives, a collection if you will. My heart is deeply saddened that the people affected by this tragedy have added such dark ones to their’s.

Edit: And of course directly after this 2 important things happened. One: Courtney came for lunch with me and we laughed and played with Sig (my frenchbulldog). It got me out of my head. I am grateful. Two: The first thing I pulled up after our lunch date were lovely words from Brene Brown (one of my 2 main spirit animals). She says “1. Prayer + civic action are not mutually exclusive. Join me in both. 2. Step away from social media coverage and toward real people for support, action, conversation, and being with each other in collective pain. Keep informed, bud don’t stay glued. Our Secondary trauma will not make us better helpers – it shuts us down and sends us into self-protection and blame-finding.”

Absolutely lovely. This is basically what I was trying to say through my process.  Elizabeth Gilbert posted her words. In this way I am able to feel collective in my pain. My spirit animals are out there also in the trenches of this tragedy with me. My heart is comforted.