Q&A
Posted on | January 27, 2012 | No Comments
as written October 19, 2010
Dearest Abba and Co. (smile)…
I feel all these things swirling around, and am sensitive to it to some depth. And I feel the questions come and the answers impress themselves from my spirit into my mind, I think I should write them down.
There are all these little things that get my attention, that flare up my…envy and jealousy, I suppose. How odd to feel those. But they do. My dreams. And I keep telling myself to let the denial fade away, to lose its potency so that I might see and feel truth. Can you give me some truth today, Abba?
Yes, my dove.
I feel like you want me to know some things.
It is well with me that you shall.
I guess now that I trust you’ll answer, I don’t want to know the answers. Abba? Please help me through it!
Always and forever, my sweetest Lily. I am here always. You are never alone.
Okay then. Please, I just want the denial gone.
You are not in denial, love.
Is that my denial talking!?
You feel doubt, and it shudders your heart. Your heart does not doubt me any longer, love. The doubt is your fear. Your denial is too flimsy now to deceive you.
Ok. So what do I need to know? I felt that…Adam is contemplating being with me.
That is so, love. He does. Thinking about it. More than feeling about it.
Is there someone else he is interested in?…Okay. Should I not ask that question?
Not at this time.
Does that mean there ISSSS!?!? And WHY do I care so much still about it!? I just want to not…
I know. This is his decision he is making. His path he is choosing. It will determine the course of his journey for now and the future.
I just keep getting snippets into…things that catch my attention. And I KNOW this kind of thing, it happened with Brent! And I just don’t want to be lied to. I don’t want to miss what you’re trying to tell me. These little signs, they are starting to mess up my rhythm and make me…doubt. Look around. I suppose.
They are not nothing, love. Everything is always something. They are teachers, as always.
What do I need to learn? What are they telling me? I am afraid I jump to conclusions because of my ancient pain instead of seeing things as they are, and it’s like looking through blurry eyes and it’s making me frustrated.
Then simply pay attention, and let the rest go. Do not analyze or mind trick what you see. Feel with your heart.
My heart tells me that I don’t need to worry about it.
Your heart speaks truth.
Only my head makes me crazy. But shouldn’t there be a balance between both heart and mind? I’m living only in one lately, and that’s half shut down. When do I bring them together?
When it’s time.
It pisses me off to hear that.
I know, love. (I hear him laughing).
Am I supposed to do anything? Say anything? Go anywhere?
You have done all I asked, and more. There is no more for you to do except wait and receive.
You won’t tell me any more about him, will you? And you’re blocking me from seeing and feeling him.
Yes. I am God. And I do all things on your behalf, not my own.
Why?
Because it would take away from the end result…you will not feel it in all its entirety if I allow you to feel it first in pieces, now. There is beauty and perfection in my planning, and I want you to trust me in that.
I’m afraid of being the woman not chosen, once more. It makes me heart thump wrong in my chest. Can you hear it?
Yes, I hear it. Most importantly, I feel it in my own. I still carry YOUR heart, sweet one of all. I validate your fear, and I am glad you have spoken it. You know that speaking fears releases the secrets and shame. I wish no shame upon you. And I have chosen you…but never forget that all who have loved you have chosen you. In all their imperfections, their journey’s, and in their way. Even when they do not stay, they have all chosen you. That will never change. When you feel left behind, they have simply chosen a different path for themselves. It is neither wrong nor right, it simply is.
How can that be when we’re supposed to follow YOU to our life’s path?
All path’s lead back to me eventually.
Yes, I do know this. I read his words of love to me, love letters greater than any I have been given. Why did I need to do that!?
His words are beautiful and sacred and most importantly, true. You needed to remember what it is to be loved by a man. You have seen imperfection and tragedy, disease and magnificence all exist within one man. And you’ve known and loved more than one. They are all of these things; passion and emotionally distant, fierce and lax, holy and crude, deep and shallow…just as you are. All things exist within you, within man. You needed to remember how deep it was, and how painful, and allow both sides to coexist. There is not a reconciliation, but an acceptance of what simply is. He is a good example of this.
No man is without his own pain, or without his own triumphs. Just as you are. It will help you make your choice, which comes suddenly and without warning. I bless you to feel, my love. Just feel your way through it. It is not your head that is needed in this next choice you will make of which direction your life will take. So you have been practicing…and I bless you to sink into your heart to feel what you should do. I once carried your heart until it could beat again in your chest, healed and made whole. I now carry your mind, if you let me, to be stripped of hidden shame and anxiety, unnecessary words and analyzation beyond healthy boundaries to keep you out of your heart.
My mind is yours, Abba. Savior. This gray pulsing matter that holds so much intelligence and memory and innovation and imagination…I give my mind to you to heal. It needs to be less intrusive and smaller for a bit. I think I’ll take on the Homer approach to that. And I will live from and in my heart right now. I like the quiet, anyway.
That’s my girl! We will make great all that you surrender to us, and this you have seen, and this you know. I am proud of you, my beloved. Offerings are at the door. Allow them entrance, holy one. Many are waiting.
I love you forever. Talk soon.
Abba
Identify With
Posted on | January 26, 2012 | No Comments
as written October 17, 2010
Someone’s phrase today amazed me: “Compare yourself OUT, or identify yourself WITH.”
Separate, or create intimacy. Pull away, or pull towards. I’m better than (comparison). Or identify WITH.
We compare to enable us to separate; to feed our self-hate (not accepting compliments, feeding shame, they’re better than this better looking than that) or to feed our ego and superiority (suppressed anger, fear, and shame). Because the fact is, we are spiritual beings having a human experience. Therefore, we have to MAKE THE EFFORT NOT TO RELATE TO ONE ANOTHER. We have to put in substantial strength to make us NOT WHO WE ALREADY ARE. We are feeling beings, we are emotional creatures, and it is THAT that is authentic and real, amazing and true. Yet we try so hard to not be who we intrinsically are.
“It is not our light, not our darkness which most frightens us…”
If we identify with, it takes us INTO ourfeelings. While comparing takes us OUT of our feelings. Because the less we can feel, the easier it is to judge one person below or above another. The MORE we feel, the more DIFFICULT it is to place one being above or below another. Because the truth is that we are NOT above or below. We are equal. It is only by NOT feeling that we can come to believe that we are not connected, not equal, not emotional, and not a community of unified life.
Brazen Demands
Posted on | January 25, 2012 | No Comments
as written October 16, 2010
1st…
I’m having a hard time accepting the silence while I FEEL something big going on under the surface, and it’s making me all sorts of verclempt. Blah blah blah. Earlier, when my spirit was still “In Silence” and laying in the current as it carried her along effortlessly…I heard God tell her, as she was debating on whether or not to sit up and look around yet:
“You’re not going to want to miss this, Lily.”
And so, she decided to sit up and pay attention to see what was going to happen.
2nd…
Friday, I went to Adam’s softball turny. He randomly asked me to go, and I wanted to. While in the bleachers, I kept looking at this pretty, blond woman. Finally…in a lurch in the pit of my gut, I remembered her. Brooke, the girl I knew 12 years ago…who lived with the family of that boy. In all this time, I have never come across anyone I knew from that time in my life, from that circle of terrible memories. And yet, there she sat. Since I don’t believe in coincidences, I slid over and talked to her. She remembered me. And then, completely on her own – recalled how creepy and terrible and awful that boy was. How she heard such awful things about him, and never liked him. Is it funny that her saying that, without provocation, made me feel better? Made the 19 year-old me sigh in some age-old way…that she really wasn’t crazy. That really and truly there was something so horribly wrong with him, that could make him capable of the things he did. I looked at her, and just nodded.
And then smile in that grim, slightly sadistic way that knows and wonders just what the hell THAT’LL bring up in me now! What demon from the deep is awaiting…or maybe it’s simply the ability to put that demon to rest. It just sucks seeing any of that fucker still alive in me. We’ll see. I WANT ANSWERS! Ha. And I’m not even abashed for my brazen demands.
Anyway – later Sunday night I listened to Brene Brown’s webinar, “The Gifts of Imperfection.” SHE IS AWESOME. She’s all about shame resilience and has many, many years in the field of recovery and shame topics. I learned much and felt validated that once again, truth is truth is truth, and we all come to it by different means – but we all say the same thing. I loved it.
Am I having expectations? HELL YES I AM. And I demand an answer. Powerlessness be damned. I hate being left out of the loop. And oh well that I’m fighting it. I FEEL the big-ness of it all, but I don’t have a name or sight for it.
Fuck.
AND I realized I don’t swear as much anymore. Not sure how I feel about that. 
Pages Of My Life
Posted on | January 24, 2012 | No Comments
as written October 11, 2010
Things that come to my mind, as I compare (yes I guess compare) my wedding to theirs, and what it made me remember of my own. Her frozen barbie smile, and how distant yet overwhelmingly happy she seemed, and his presence and quivering chin and laughing eyes and huge smile.
I remember how calm mine was. How calm I was. How calm Brent was. How easy it all was, effortless and flowing like smooth silk into the calmest waters. He went to the temple two hours early, just by himself, to walk around the ground and contemplate and pray and be in the moment for what he was about to do. Sure of his course, his love for me, and how certain he really was that he was doing the right thing, and that this love between us was different from his past experiences. His joy was palpable, and it was still there five years later when I walked around the temple while Katrina got sealed, and felt his love still there for me. Whispering against my neck and loving me.
I wasn’t overwhelmed nor afraid nor doubting in any way. Effortless. I was present in the moment and simply joyful, embracing the blessing that it was, and loving every single second of it. I will never forget my peace, the surety that I felt and knew without a doubt or shred of fear, that this was everything my life had led up to, that this was the best possible choice I could ever make for myself, and that this was the person who it would be with.
Augh how the memory of that seizes me up like some unfriendly giant and squeezes me under arms so my ribs collapse against my heart. How I loved that Brent…how I will always…
I still wonder sometimes where that person went. Did he die within his disease? Is he still there, underneath it all? Why did I get that miraculous parted veil where he lived, before it shut again and addiction was all he was, all he knew, and all he could manifest and live for?
I remember my celebration, MY day, MY happiness, MY covenants, MY choices, MY HUSBAND. He will always call me his wife. Even though I no longer call him my husband.
Fuck. I don’t know where any of this is leading but my fingers slam down on the keyboard and I don’t know what else lies inside of me because of this. I miss Brent right now. Not the NOW Brent but the THEN Brent. The man who fought for me, who won me over, who asked me to marry him, who carried me over the threshold of our new lives and our new names with nothing but adoration.
I’ve written all this before. I’ve felt all this. It’s done. It’s over. It’s in the past. The two year anniversary of our divorce comes looming forth, along with the anniversary of what would have been 7 years with him. But it was never 7, it was only 5 and barely that. But 5 years out of a human’s life is still a good portion of their lives.
I remember forgetting Jason and the 5 years I spent with him.
I remember forgetting every other man and our love memories.
I already have forgotten (at least my conscious mind) so many with Brent. My spirit tells me that she forgets NOTHING. And I believe her, because I know she’s right. Nothing is forgotten. It’s just that none of it will be relived again. That’s just the way of it. So that we can move on. Fuck, sometimes I hate moving on.
I’m tired again but not hopeless, just bemoaning the nights spent alone this week and not wanting to hurt for any man and yet there are these twinges, and nothing more at the moment and it is what it fucking is. God, Abba, can you speak to me right now? It’s been a confusing while…and I miss you. I want to curl up at your hearth and be told stories to put me to sleep. I want to lay on the soft, thick rug with my animals who no longer are beside me and listen to your voice speak to my soul. I want to smell the insides of the books lining the shelves and hear the fire crackle and the snow fall outside. I want to hear you turning the pages…trusting you with the turning of the pages of my life…
My dear apple blossom,
It is fall and the smell of orchards are still sweet in my nostrils. The crackle of leaves and the crackle of your heart I hear just as acutely. You sit beneath the tree of life, sup at my table and kneel at my feet. You hurl your pain to the heavens and I have caught them all. You flow with the Living Water and let Him lift you up. You flounder at the truth of your own salvation and progression but I am here to proclaim that ALL IS WELL! Your Zion is a living, breathing creation that you have made with these two hands, with His two hands, with yours…and all those who surround you. They give in whatever capacity they have to give, but give, my love, they do indeed.
Follow the current that carries you, oh tender droplet of mine…within you lie worlds unknown. Bursting at the seams, sweetest, is the direction of your life, about to take off, about to take flight. I have combined the most exquisite ingredients for you, for the benefit of my children, utilizing the gifts you have so agonizingly honed; both emotional, spiritual, physical, and professional. All these will come into play in this most marvelous of opportunities I have created for you. This was planned before this world began, and you now stand at the helm of what is to come. No more are you pulled along with the undertow, or working your way from stern to bow…you stand at the head with us. With me. With Him. With She who I love and cherish and adore. With he, who will be yours shortly. Who will be given even as you struggle to exist somewhere in the balance between heart and head.
Look up, my darling girl…the dawn has long since come. Your sight will be all that you wish and desire it to be, for you use it worthfully and in honor of my name and in the name of my beloved, my only begotten Son, thy redeemer and holy son of Israel. It is time for your tears to take a rest, my love. And time for joy to be had. Do not doubt it, for it is I who bestows it upon you. In thanks. In appreciation. In honor. In deserving consequence. In eternal timing. In love…eternal, endless, unconditional love.
Holy, holy is your heart almighty. Great, have you become. Humble, you still are – for you still lean unto me, into me, beside me – allowing me to orchestrate the life you have given to me. And it is yours to live most fully because of this. Be ready, my sweet – they will come to you, be ready to comply. Be willing to leap, knowing I will catch you. Explosive and passionate will this journey now be, you are ready to feel it all. I bestow the most bounteous of riches and blessings upon you. Use them wisely. I trust you with them. I now give the word that the time is at hand. Open up to it, mind body and soul, and it will change you and continue to mold you. Allow me to stay with you.
Fear not, my favored child…I come with chariots of fire and love unrestrained, for you have been set free. I love you, I am so proud of you, forever and ever…amen.
Abba (and company)
October 9th And Stuff
Posted on | January 23, 2012 | No Comments
as written October 10, 2010
I’ve been in my heart. Cutting off my head. Don’t want to think. To bring “think” into the thick mix. Feeling isn’t so scary down here in this beating organ, because it is quiet and devoid of any annoying and incessant chatter. But here, right now, my heart is also not all the way open. It is shut down some, so I am existing in a quiet place, that isn’t all the way open. It’s safe here. Protective. I don’t have to worry about tomorrow or what my actions should be held responsible for. I’m not being extreme, I’m just…existing in the moment and in the moment alone.
But today, the day after what would have been my 6th wedding anniversary, the day after my good friends got married and we danced the night away in fun and camaraderie, amid my shut down heart so I wouldn’t feel pain about the DAY that used to be MY day, and the pain of missing the bride and feeling lonely for my friend who doesn’t seem to be my friend these days, who looks at me and doesn’t see me and that hurts and I miss her. Especially on that day, being the 9th, that we shared. And that none of her sisters got any special treatment or recognition like the brothers got from her husband, and that makes me sad. Are we not her sisters? I love her and miss her and feel unloved by her. But…that day is hard for me. It has been for a few years now. 6 years…I have a fleeting thought of what might be, today, if things weren’t interrupted so rudely by active addiction as they were. But they were, and that is that. I texted Brent late last night but he didn’t text me back. Like usual.
The night was fun – dancing with all my incredible women…and the boys: Coo and his CRAZY antics and garter around his head and B’s triumphant catch of the bouquet and her miss america wave and swing dancing and Bry and his sweetness and Coo dancing with me and the General in his element popping and locking like nobody’s business. And the live band that was pretty good and all my most favorite people and Dan Love loving on me and the attention paid and how I looked and so many that love me and all of us love each other – and I was grateful to be surrounded by each and every one of them, and I realize and give thanks for that tender mercy. Thank you, God, for giving me all these people to love and who love me.
Thank you…I know you remembered that day, and how hard each year has been on this day. How Adam busted up with me last year, and the year before that Brent OD’d, and this year my dearest friends got to get married because he kept fighting for her, and Brent couldn’t fight for me. And now,
Adam chooses not to. I gave him the ball back and he doesn’t want it or know what to do with it and I am sad that he cannot accept love and I am sad that I cannot share that with him as he just quietly disappears.
But today is Sunday and I am faced with my feelings that I don’t want to feel and it makes me…sad.
Friday was pre-wedding dinner and once again I sat with a table of men and women I love, and we passed the mike around to share our love and stories about the beautiful couple. Afterwards a bunch of us went to Coo’s parent’s house, where we laughed so hard when they went in the hot tub because I wore my Victoria Secret’s underwear (“I can tell by the band,” said Mush) and her nude colored halter thing that was just like a bikini top. It was so funny and we sat there playing “truth,” asking questions and I cuddled with Coo on the couch, just wanting comfort, and he played with my hair and my hand and whispered sweet nothings in my ear.
There were sparklers to see the bride and groom off into another part of the hotel where they would start their lives together as a married couple. October 9th. The last time it was on a Saturday was 2004. MY day.
After the sparklers, Jen and Dena and I went to the Bayou, to have a Turkey Burger and a vodka with sprite. And girl talk. Where I felt loved and love for them, these women who mean the world to me. And today, in a couple hours I’ll drive all the way up to Layton to support Katie as she speaks at a fireside about addiction.
And I’m sad because I miss Adam. I miss my friend. I miss the Gardener. I miss his companionship and his humor and his touch and his presence. And I miss that I am no longer holding our love, and that it’s in his choice. I feel empty of it and the pain slowly rises from my sternum in that heavy weight; like a granite slab was placed on my chest and then slowly pulled off as it empties out my eyes…wet and sad and missing him.
The end.
Bottom line? I’m sitting in my crap. I’m sitting in all the emotions I have right now, from one spectrum of gratitude to the other of profound sorrow. But as I sit in my muck; that thick gooey mud all stinkin’ to high heaven of my putrid emotions, I let it…
soften my skin.
Mud baths may stink, but they’re ingenius for skin rejuvenation and moisturization. Happy anniversary, Monica…whatever that may mean.
Undiluted Truth
Posted on | January 22, 2012 | No Comments
as written October 7, 2010
Talking with Katie about her upcoming talk this Sunday at a ward with a private addiction fireside. And the struggle of wanting to do it with her husband, but him declining, and her choice to do it alone. Without him. And the Bishop’s struggle to allow her to do it without him. And her writing it. And her sharing it with me. And how she questioned, “Am I channeling God? The Woman? Monica? What IS this I’ve written!?” And my answer?
“This is what happens when you’re channeling yourself, Katie. Devoid of shame, wounds, or fear. This is undiluted truth.“
She told me of how she couldn’t see through her tears, bawling, but her fingers just kept typing, kept writing. I told her, this is how it is for me every time I write things like this. When I access God’s love, this is how it feels. It is available for anyone and everyone. I am so proud of her, my Undiluted Truth.
“We can’t respond authentically to the moment if we’re concealing the truth. The truth for us involves our own unique package of qualities, our own experience and energy, our own way of looking at things. Freedom, for us, depends on the choices only we can make.”
The Wayfaring Man Has Been Given Much
Posted on | January 21, 2012 | No Comments
as sent October 8, 2010
Even though I had not gone to church in two years, one of my brothers requested of me to play the piano for his re-baptism. I had known him for some time, and loved him deeply – that is usually the way with such intense experiences as addiction. You experience intimacy with others as they speak your shame, your hope, and your pain. I said yes only because it was him, my sweet friend, and because of the bond we have with one another. He asked me afterwards to write down my experience of it – and this is what came.
As I write this, I feel the tumult of emotions course through me once again. It wasn’t easy for me to be there, because of what lies within my own heart and wounds and continuing recovery. But at the same time, I know I was supposed to be. I am grateful for the opportunity to play the music. It has been so long since my fingers played music in the body of a church, and as I played it was brought to my mind an entire lifetime of doing so. Except this time, I felt nervous because my emotions and heart were accessible as I played what lay within. I would be exposed, I would be vulnerable, sitting up there in front of everyone…
As Michelle and I rushed in late, my anxiety a coping mechanism around me – the wall of love hit me so powerfully it peeled back all my self protective shells, and left me vulnerable and raw as I found my seat. I tried to surrender into this, knowing it wasn’t about me. So sufficient strength was given, even as my heart went into hiding some. But then all of that disappeared as I saw my friend in the front row – dressed in white. I literally could see none of his past pain, none of his disease, no shame or fear appeared within his countenance. It was beautiful. And testified immediately, once again, of the undeniable and unfathomable power of the healing available from the Christ. No matter how many times I see it, each one is a profound miracle in and unto itself. I bear my testimony of that.
“Because I Have Been Given Much,” was the hymn he felt inspired to sing with his brothers. They gathered around me as I sat on the piano bench, and I felt enveloped by the indescribable greatness, tangible as the keys I played upon. To hear the sound of men singing this song, to the music I got to play – was unforgettable. I saw glimpses of the audience, unable to tear their eyes away from the sight, and I was sorry I couldn’t see the view. But I had something better. I sat within it, a part of a brotherhood we women are not accessible to. It was intimate and powerful and it changed me. I kept looking over at The Woman, who beamed like Heavenly Mother Herself, looking so beautiful as she gazed upon the men she has been foreordained to help heal: the sick, the afflicted, and the addicted: some of the Greatest Warriors the world has ever seen.
We crowded into the room to see him baptized, children craning around the crowd trying to see it happen. The little children at the front, their tiny hands pressed up against the glass, rapt at what was happening. It was mentioned that we couldn’t do the entire service in that room because there were so many people, too many people – too much love for this good man that it couldn’t be contained in this room.
As we waited for him to return, another brother and I played together – melting sound and feelings we are unable to express into 88 keys of black and light. How I love playing. How I have missed it. When they returned to the chapel, it was his turn to speak. And it is this that I feel the most for. Many of the details of the other speakers have lapsed somewhere in my brain, but my heart won’t forget how it felt to see him stand, in his suit, at the pulpit and speak from his heart.
Because of where I was seated, I could see the entire audience – the whole chapel take him in. I could see their emotions fly across their countenances, as clear as reading them on a page. As this humble man spoke of who sat before him, I saw a lifetime of spectators to his life: the judge who incarcerated him multiple times, his family, his friends from college, childhood, adulthood, and recovery. His own beautiful son, who is a tiny replica of himself – there with his adoptive parents. I could see his entire life laid out before him: his disease, his sacrifices, his mistakes, his surrender, his pain, his triumph, his exaltation, his immense love all from the faces looking back at him.
And there he stood – honest. clean. holy. sanctified. forgiven. celebrated. glorified – before us all, before heaven herself, before God and his fellow men. Not hiding anything. Not ashamed. Accepting all that had happened, and in the very room where some of his deepest pain looked back at him, was nothing but Love. I saw a man standing tall on the battlefield of his own life’s mission. I heard him speak with authority and power, although his hands shook some. I heard him give gratitude, thanks to God, and touch upon the details of his life, what he has been borne through, been born from, and what he hopes for one day. How does one not love a man like this? It was hard to look at the straight back and head held high without being cracked open myself. And perhaps that’s what happens when you witness one being shown their life and choosing, through the shame, to love all of it anyway.
And then…he reached a part where he singled out his family. I watched the humility encompass his entire form, as he bade them in particular his thanks, his eternal gratitude, his sorrow, his apology. It was a man who felt the pain of what his disease causes those who love him most. That level of pain…is the kind that most will never feel in this life. Simply because it is too much. Too hard. Too dangerous when balanced with the ofttimes fragile crust of sobriety. And he opened himself up to it. I could not stop the tears at this, and bowed my head as I let it wash over me, as well. Feeling how it feels to be validated in this great way, a way I have not been validated. And even though it wasn’t directed to me – I felt how it would feel. And now I know how it feels. I give thanks to God for that gift, not even knowing I needed to experience it.
As we sang “A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief,” I felt saturated with the spirit and blessed to be found worthy to be a part of it. I felt love for myself for being there, and my own journey. I felt overwhelming love for this sweet boy, a man who is not perfect – but who is allowing himself to be made whole and complete, through the love of the Son of God. As I looked up, I saw the weights of Addiction be lifted from his shoulders; carried by angels to be offered at the feet of the Master. Offerings of a man made humble. A man who had willingly been yoked before this life began, with the Greatest Weakness of all: Addiction.
He doesn’t need to carry them all, anymore. And I saw the angels carry them with honor, with an air that told me what they carried was precious above all else: Surrender. Acceptance. Honesty. Forgiveness. Humility. Trust. Of a pact made complete, a mission fulfilled, a test passed. I pray and hope that he might hear what it sounded like, that heaven rejoicing is something that I cannot describe – but I ask that he be able to feel it.
I will never forget the majesty that commanded everything during it all. And I am healed in places I did not know were still aching.
Thank you, for sharing it with us all. Love you forever, my sweet boy and dearest friend.
Monica
Open For Business
Posted on | January 20, 2012 | No Comments
as written October 8, 2010
So. I’ve decided to give up on Adam. Well, more specifically I’ve decided that I am no longer holding a window open for him. That I am no longer waiting for him. That…I am not the one who is in control here over the situation. HA. I have relinquished control over the million what-if’s of our future. I’m letting him have the reigns, if he wants them. He can drive from now on. And he can put them down or face his fears and start moving. But it’s in his court. I have closed the gym doors on this game, and threw the ball to him. Up and out – the ball goes to God and to Adam and they hold it now. Between the both of them. I no longer choose to have a part in the responsibility of any of it.
My fear of not being fought for, chased after, if I relinquish these reigns is now less than the willingness to sacrifice myself on the altar of codependent control, manipulation, or insufficient self-worth. I AM worth fighting for, I AM worth chasing after, I AM worth a million things and more. I am letting go of the pervasive desire that it HAS to be him and him alone. Having done this before enables me to be able to do it once again. This letting go business.
Adam does not have to choose me. I am not the only answer. But I am a fucking brilliant one. An unforgettable, unique, irreplaceable, one-of-a-kind, amazing, intimidating, beautiful answer.
My dreams the last few weeks (besides the bears) have contained Adam. And even one Brent dream (not surprisingly). And they vacillate between Adam choosing me – the scenes of him declaring love and that it’s always been me and that he wants to be with me and try a relationship – and him choosing someone else. Whether I knew her or not, but the ache and devastated heartbreak of watching him choose another woman instead of being with me is as potent as is the amazing feeling of him choosing to love me. Even though I wonder IF YOU HAVE THE CHANCE TO BE WITH ME WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU EVER CHOOSE ANYONE ELSE?!? But I know the answer to this one. It’s because of THEM. Their shitstorms. Not mine. Still, I still ask that question in my head. And yes, all caps. But it’s like I’m just trying on the different results or outcomes to this situation like an outfit to see how they feel. I’m not sure why they keep happening…
There is nothing else I can say or do here. I have no regrets. I have done all asked of me, and learned more than that. I have been the recipient of love unknown, and continue to pass on the miracles he brought forth unto me in HOYH and my self-worth and in my heart and will continue to do so forever.
There is much for him to say and do, if he chooses to. But I am not part of that decision or act of courage. I am not needed to buoy him up as he faces his emotions. I leave this as it is, and say – it is good.
I do believe there will be more words between us, from him. That it’s not final…but in that knowing, I also declare this:
I am open for business.
My heart is open and willing to love and be loved. To whomever the Lord graces and blesses me with; knowing better than anyone what it is I need, deserve, hope for, am ready for, and am equal to. I trust Him. Lord, I hand you my choice in the matter. I hand you my control. And I trust you with my heart, and who it shall go to next.
Boo yeah, bitches…let the new game begin.
*(Disclaimer – I say these things with humor, but my heart is feeling heavily.)
Another Jewel In My Crown
Posted on | January 19, 2012 | No Comments
as written and sent October 4, 2010
If you haven’t yet seen this, take a moment to. It is more than worth it. I share it as a contribution to our great pool of women power, strength, courage, bravery, and inspiration. There are women everywhere sharing their experience, strength and hope in their particular niche of their life’s journey. I commend her, and applaud her, as I do all of you.
This gives me strength to carry on in an undiminished capacity; devoid of the fear that might silence my passion. “Take up all the space that you are…” This young woman certainly does. As always, take what resonates, and leave the rest. Love you all. Parts I & II
Tender Footed And Wielding A Gun
Posted on | January 18, 2012 | No Comments
as written September 30, 2010
Last night, for the first time in many months, the bears returned. And I throw my head back and clench my fists and scream inside, because I THOUGHT I WAS DONE WITH THIS. The bears were my fear of being loved, that no man would stay, that they abandon, cheat on, and are dishonest. When I finally faced that bear in the cage in my heart, it turned into a big jolly lovely fur bear, who licked me all over and rambled away, there to PROTECT me, not hurt me.
So this dream was terrifying. Usually the bears are some distance away, but this was more than a close call. This was INSIDE MY HOME, this was absolute terror. We were being chased, my family and random people. Chased through the woods from the unnamed fear, but they were all bears. Suddenly, I reached behind me (with someone I was protecting…maybe little me) and clambered onto the back of a polar bear. I held onto it’s thick dirty white fur as we galloped through the forest. All breeds of bears were there. And then, we were inside…and the bears were breaking down all the walls like they were matchsticks, and there was nowhere to go, no way to escape. The fear was so thick I was choking on it. As the bear clawed its way into the last remaining room, I was first in line. The others were around me, behind me.
Suddenly, in my hands, was a gun. An antique, well oiled, pump action gun. About two feet long. I thought in my head that I didn’t know how to use it, but as the bear charged only a few feet in front of me, I pumped the gun, aimed it with strength, and fired 5 shots. 1,2,3,4,5, right into its chest as it reared up.
And then, as I stared at the surprisingly small bullet holes, the bear turned into a man. Who was wearing a plaid shirt. Bullet holes in the chest of a plaid shirt. A man somewhere in his late forties…a man I didn’t know.
I woke up. And was too scared to go back to sleep to it.
WHAT. THE. HELL.
Okay. I KNOW I can be feeling all the self-love I am and still have fears to work through. It’s just still a surprise to face fears AND feel your self-love at the same time. But they all co-exist. Just like we are codependents who are ALSO amazing in a million ways. That I love God AND I love sex (without being married). That I swear AND I show respect and speak eloquently. Anyways…
This dream just surprised me with its voracity and fear and…intimacy. How close it was. How reality-based it seemed. And now, of course, I want to know WHAT IT ALL MEANS! The bears being back and the fear and the GUN! Holy hell the gun! And that I used it and shot it 5 times without hesitation and then it turning into a man…WHAT DOES IT MEAN my head screams.
What do I feel about it? Scared. Fear. Empowerment. Courage. Hesitation. Uncertainty. Confusion. Protective. Disbelief. Horror. Strength. Reactionary in a moment I needed to react in. Surprised by my innate knowledge to do what needed to be done. Confused at the man, but sure that I didn’t do anything prematurely, knowing I didn’t do anything wrong, even though I didn’t understand what was happening. What are your thoughts on THIS!?
Jen: Thank you for sharing your dream with me! Dreams are sacred, so I feel blessed that you would trust them with me. I feel like the bears represent any fear, perhaps, not just a particular one, and will likely return when there is something that needs to be addressed. Recovery is like fitness…I think. You’re NEVER done. It’s something you do, continuously, not something you achieve or accomplish, which indicates finality.
I don’t know what particular fear the bears represent, and I don’t know if what I’m feeling is right, (I think right is completely subjective in dreams, anyway) but I think that perhaps the thing to focus on is your reaction to the bear. I thought instinctively of you brandishing a gun and instinctively knowing how to use it being the important thing to take away from the dream, today, anyway. Other truths will reveal themselves, in time, but no matter what the bear represents, you know how to defend yourself, and others, through your example. Whether it’s by temporarily numbing yourself out, or by facing it head on, your instincts are now defined by your recovery…muscle memory (still using fitness as an analogy).
WHATEVER fear you face, it will not destroy you, it cannot destroy you. But it might be big and loud and ferocious. The bear turning into a man, I don’t know, except that things are not always what they appear…we define things and people before we even know them, based on our past experiences, and more specifically, based on our fears! But fear is an important survival mechanism, and we have it for a reason. It just must not rule us!
I predict there will be more to come…but you can handle it! You and God’s Army at your back!! We all will stand with you, you are not alone. Take our love and support and validation with you into your dreams…they are all just as real, there, as they are when you’re awake. I’d love to hear what you’re feeling about this…
Monica: Ahhhh Jen. Seriously. You are like the exhalation I didn’t know I was holding in…thank you. For every word. It sank deep and resonated through and through. I guess my only other thought (and I’m trying to determine if this is a feeling as well) is the fear that I shot something and killed it before it had a chance to tell me what it was. That I jumped the gun, literally…that I didn’t sacrifice myself at the mercy of this fear to find out what it would do. And maybe my confusion is because my behaviors have changed. I am no longer the martyr that waits to be dismembered, but am proactive – there was no doubt that I waited as long as I possibly could before pulling the trigger. I didn’t shoot without looking, without looking in the eye what was charging and attacking me. There was only inches between it and me, and I waited until then to stand up and defend myself. To make sure no stone was left unturned? To make sure I wasn’t killing a friend? A blessing in disguise? That I wasn’t murdering my future happiness just because it brought up these fears within me?…
Ah. There it is. The fear behind the fear of the fear itself: did I just kill something that was meant as a gift?, because of my fears, my past experiences, my pain?
I actually don’t think so. But I needed to give voice to that other, nagging suspicion that stood next to the reasons you listed.
What I feel…is not much at all at the moment. But I feel the exhilaration and surprise at the adeptness of my Recovery itself. That despite being paralyzed with fear, my Recovery manifests a gun and blows the darkness away. Like I am at the mercy of my Recovery itself, like it has taken control of ME, I do not control IT any longer. And that feels…weird. Like I’m the one being taken for a ride. Like I’m possessed…of RECOVERY. Lol. Like it has become an extra limb, a 6th sense, a new consciousness that decides when and how to move, act, feel, surrender, and move on. And I am pulled along, whether or not I am present in the reality or consciousness of whatever fear/wound I am dealing with. My Recovery now works subconsciously within me as well as consciously. Just like you said, “muscle memory…” when the body reacts separate to the mind…in self preservation, survival, thrival…
Wow.
And I also want to say that yes – I don’t believe the bear represented the same fear of the unloyal man anymore…it felt…different from that. Like it didn’t represent that belief, because I no longer HAVE that belief. But it has simply taken on the form of bears for any fear in general, like you said. And my reaction was…to feel fear. Terror. To run away. And then when cornered, to fire all I had with skills I didn’t know I possessed. And yes, I also feel that it turning into a man I didn’t know just meant that things aren’t always what they appear…that one fear that wears this coat is something entirely different underneath.
Speaking of…this Saturday our friends get married. Did you know that? This Saturday is October 9th, my anniversary. October has been bitter for me and hard to get through for years now. It’s better this year, but I’m…tender footed and timid as I peer into the month…
keep looking »Read the story from the beginning…
Recent Posts
Categories
Recent Comments
- L on Sparse Are The Hearts
- L on Biggest Losers
- L on The Call
Archives
Get the button, share the love
