Marking a Milestone

My Pot Party

September 2014 shall from henceforth be deemed Milestone Month. Initially, it was going to be about turning 50. It’s the marked event that I put in my timeline since June 2010. I just wanted to turn my life around by the time I turned 50. As the time grew closer to September 10, my anxiety increased. I was focusing on the things that I thought needed to be present to have my life “turned around”.  Having noted that I was at an all-time low physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually, I am not surprised of the disappointment in my physical change. Simply put, I wanted to be thinner. I've taken off 70 pounds; I wanted to be 100 pounds or more off.  But when I reversed the order and thought about the spiritual, emotional, mental, and then physical changes, I was amazed at how much I had turned my life around. I have a sense of satisfaction in what I've done. I am very grateful. My sense of worth is now solid and able to be affirmed from within me, rather than seeking from others to feed that to me. I made a public declaration of this, to honor myself and my work. I see myself as the gift and my life as the celebration.

This month is also marked by some very significant therapy sessions.  I did some empty chair work that placed me in a chair opposite an empty chair but where I could envision my ex-husband seated. I needed to say the things I hadn't said to him when we were married. There was a lot to be said. There was a boatload of anger and pain and shame to be expressed, released, and left on the therapy floor. I spoke and yelled and cried and screamed some. It was quite cathartic. Wow, did that feel good. Following that session, I was a changed woman! Previous attempts to “get angry” particularly in the therapy setting, were less successful. It was if there had been a lock box on going "there". It has taken two years of hard, dedicated work to get to this point. I write about it here to acknowledge the work I've done, and perhaps for others who may read this and need some encouragement.  I'd often wondered if the work is worth it.  I am here to say, “Yes, it is”. I have a freedom that I have wanted for a long time. I am lighter, and a burden has been lifted. Debra said she saw a paradigm shift in me. I resemble that comment. 

Lovely!

During that session and in the group session that followed later that week, it became clear that I had some unresolved trauma.  It was agreed that EMDR would serve me well in this incident. The session that ensued involved facing perhaps the worst memory of my marriage. Doing this was perhaps one of the most difficult things I have done in my life. The pain and shame of that time in my life was so huge that I would get physically ill and emotional every time it was mentioned or recalled. My goal in therapy was to obtain a sense of peace. I wanted to be released from the grip that memory had over me. I have read Peter LeVine’s Waking the Tiger about physical symptoms of unresolved trauma.  During that session, I experienced exactly what he describes in his book – shaking, flailing, and other physical releases of trapped trauma. During this particular EMDR session, my emotions and thoughts would interject their own messages wanting me to stop. Emotionally, it was painful to face this fear and feel what had been locked within me. I also had to resist the thought that this was embarrassing, that I looked ridiculous, and whatever else the mind’s ego wanted to protect. I stayed true to my resolve. Recovery Healthy Sara prevailed again. That tenacious girl fought to get her breakthrough. Powerfully done, and immensely healing! EMDR is one kick-ass method. 

There was an unexpected and beautiful gift to me for this perseverance. I was given a vision of my husband and me. Instead of the pain, shame, and rejection that represented that initial memory, this new image was one of compassion and acceptance. We still held our brokenness as that had not been addressed, but in that space we weren't carrying the fullness of the shame. We were present for one another. It was a lovely image. I have the gift of this in addition to no longer having the bondage to that trauma. Indeed, this is my new truth. I have it to share as I go forth and to any future relationships. And that is that it isn't the absence of problems, it is the presence of compassion, empathy, vulnerability, honesty, genuine affection and love that creates the kind of intimacy I long for. Hell, yes, this is a milestone.  Hell, yes, this is a breakthrough!

P.S...I want to share how I celebrated my birthday, a particularly great idea for one marking a new season in life. I had a Pot Party! OK, I mean, I had a potting party. I asked for new colorful pots for my new colorful plants to adorn the patio that has been reclaimed as my haven. Now when I take time to reflect and enjoy the sanctity of my personal retreat, I am reminded of the party, this special time in my life, and the many people who love me. I have the pleasure of the beauty of the plants and pots themselves, and the knowledge that like those plants that are flourishing, I too am firmly planted, growing, and blossoming.

Beautiful!

Enchanting!

Gorgeous!

The Strengths in Co-dependency

Today while driving, I found my thoughts turned to those times  I've done things out of my comfort zone on behalf of someone else. One such memory dates back to 1985. I had just gotten my very first apartment.  Until that time I had lived with my parents, in dormitories, and most recently with another couple. One of my childhood friends had just accepted a job in El Paso, and I was asked by our mothers to help her get settled. This friend is three years older than me, but evidently I represented some aspect of experience. The irony here is that I knew nothing of traveling, of El Paso, of setting up an apartment. It was the blind leading the blind and somehow I was in front!

She flew to Arizona and I was to take her to El Paso.  It had been overlooked that El Paso is over five hours away.  The financial and time burdens on me were far less of an issue than taking care of her needs. However, I didn't know any other way but to respond positively to the expectation that I would do this. I gladly accepted this request, however today I recognize that it was a lot to ask of me at that time. I had just turned 21 and it surprises me now what a willing and easy-going participant I was in this agreement. Of course, it is only now using the recovery lens that I see how co-dependent I was even then. My needs or welfare just weren't part of the equation. I was viewed as more than capable and she was viewed as needing help. How interesting to look back to see myself in this light.

The gift of this recollection is that I see strengths in co-dependency. My willingness to take risks, be adventurous, seek knowledge, provide leadership, and be encouraging are traits that I admire! When these things are needed on behalf of another, they wonderfully appear! I draw upon those strengths to be the supportive person I choose to be. These things are commendable and respectable and I see why others saw me as a resource! I am not faulting myself for this.

I also have seen that often when I need these very traits for myself, I have failed to utilize them. I have so often not been willing to take risks or encourage myself. I have been far less motivated. In recovery, fortunately this is changing. I am learning to show up for myself, and now I see I can draw on those same strengths I used to help others. They are available to me for my needs and desires; they always have been. Writing this actually surprises me how simple it seems. If I can do something for someone else, why has it been so difficult to do the same thing for myself? THAT is the work of these past months. That is the mystery of this thing called co-dependency. Why is it that I put my needs aside, neglecting my self-care, willing to deplete myself of the resources to tend to myself?

I am still seeking the fullness of the answers to those questions. I am grateful to have some insight though. It hasn't come without some work, some pain, and some courage to face truths about my behaviors, thoughts, and feelings. In a nutshell, I didn't see my own worth or my own abilities. I also wanted someone to do for me what I was willing to do for others but not for myself. These are not pleasant truths to confess. Today, they are not my beliefs, though. I am worth it, I am capable, and I can tend to my needs and know how to ask for help rather than manipulating others to meet them. I’m still working toward transformation. It’s become less burdensome, and I notice that more often I find myself behaving as a healthy adult, taking ownership and responsibility for my choices. I celebrate these victories.

I'm reminded of a conversation I had with a dear friend earlier this year over my struggles in accepting that I was an addict. She said that she had learned to love the addict part of herself, and that she needed some of the qualities of her addict. I've slowly come to see the truth in that. For instance, the addict in me has some determination and resolution that are useful traits. Today, I see that this also applies to the co-dependent in me. She is resourceful, courageous, adventurous, caring, and compassionate.  I can love all of me . I am reminded of those precious words from my Higher Power, "You are lovable, beautiful, and a catch!" Now I realize that that includes the co-dependent in me, too!

My Life: The House Metaphor

I own a large house built in 1980.  I have lived there since 1993. My husband at the time and I bought it when our son was a year old. It now includes a remodeled addition, a guest house, and a separate garage. My husband was the caretaker of the house and so I have had a major adjustment to becoming sole owner of this house. Being a home owner is somewhat of a burden. Not only does the house itself need attention, but now living alone with three cats (by default, btw; it seems they stay with the house) includes some emotional feelings associated with the house. I have felt its emptiness, vastness, and loneliness. I have shed plenty of tears in my lonely despair.

There are a number of repairs needed in this house, not to mention the maintenance required. A fresh coat of paint and some updating are long overdue; the kitchen hasn't been redone since it was built. The carpets and tile should be replaced.  The yard screams for attention.  I'm learning to allow time for basic upkeep like watering plants, tending to the pool, handling garbage collection –the basic adult responsibilities that I've managed to avoid while married. I've considered selling the house. After all, what do I need with this big house along with all this work?  This seems like a lot for me to do. Selling is an option; one I have considered with much thought and that has a lot of appeal. But I have felt that this house is mine for a reason. This house is mine for a purpose, and that I can actually come to thrive and enjoy this house. I actually like this house and it is home.

The metaphor of this house representing my life is a beautiful one. I am faced with taking care of my life in ways I haven’t been in the past. It has been and still is in need of repair.  The body most definitely needs some repair, as does much of my thinking. The emotional healing has been given a lot of attention and it continues to require a set of skilled laborers to assist in its repair. My way of relating to the house is so indicative of how I relate to myself – I feel burdened and empty; I see the years of neglect. My husband wasn't just a caretaker of the house, he was a caretaker of me. Just like I dreamed of a new house, I fantasize of a new me. And not in a healthy dreamy kind of way, but in a discard-this-one-since-it-is-broken-and-too-much-work-to-make-it-livable kind of thinking.  

Then, she appears: Healthy Sara. The one who has been discovering her worth,who is accepting of her imperfectly perfect self. The one who has been courageous and dares greatly, and despite all the work knows that there is no trading in this model for a newer one. In fact, this model is just fine. This life of mine is the one I've been given.  I am both resident and landlord. Each life is given its share of burdens, but what about the blessings? Yes, what about them?! 

My house is a blessing and it has been from the beginning. The needs and wants of the family were greatly considered when shopping for a new home. I knew from the first that that this house was to be my new home.  My son grew up in this house and there are many good memories within its walls. This house has afforded me the privilege of holding many fun events, including two weddings (soon to be a third) as well as numerous parties.  Its location is ideal and I have scenic views of mountains and nearly an acre of land to enjoy both spacious living and luscious landscape.  My house is also built of strong materials --  both brick and 2 x 6 construction. The original owner applied his Midwestern ideals to house building and made sure it was well-constructed. At its core, my house is solid, as well as welcoming and comfortable.

The blessings of my life are just as many. I, too, am ideally situated for this time and place to allow for healing and repair. I have a purpose. The emptiness is being replaced with fullness of joy and love, slowly but surely. The One Who Loves Me reminds me of my worth and value (He still thinks I’m lovable, beautiful and a catch) which builds love for myself followed by love for others. The repairs continue, as will the maintenance. It is amazing what a new coat of paint will do.  I was hauling the garbage containers down to the street last night and as I shifted my thinking about that being a chore to something I willingly and honestly wanted to do, I felt the same shift within my thinking about myself. It isn't the burdens but the blessings that really matter. It isn't that I have to haul out the garbage, it is that I get to care for myself.

It’s nice to be in charge of my own house and even better to be in charge of my own life.

Perfectionist, Planner, Pleaser, Pretender: The Masks that Misrepresent Me

I had the great fortune to spend last week at a convention focused on recovery. I wrote the following during a writing workshop. I didn't share it until last night, when I was asked to post this on THL. Perhaps I undervalued the insight that I had. If that is the case, I will consider my pattern of minimizing my thoughts and experiences, as it is always my wish to share whatever HP has given me for not only my learning but for others’.

“Dear Recovery Family,

I am once again honored to be your delegate and to witness such amazing recovery and to have the opportunity for my own growth and healing. This recovery experience is like none other and I so wish you were here with me. As you know, I am here as a delegate, an attendee, and serving on the Convention Committee. I have been planning for, working on, and in anticipation of this weekend since leaving the Convention last May.

What has become surprisingly apparent to me at this year’s Convention is that the agenda I had is far different than what my Higher Power has in mind. I say this a lot – my service work is my recovery work. This is especially evident this weekend.

The perfectionist in me has really been at odds with the recovery me. The planner in me has had to take a back seat to the unexpected needs of convention work. The pleaser in me has had to let go of others’ thoughts; it’s none of my business what they think anyway. The pretender in me has had to give way to authenticity and vulnerability.

And this is all VERY, VERY, good! The perfectionist, planner, pleaser, and pretender are parts of me that hide who I am. The real Sara, the authentic me, is imperfectly perfect! She knows that it is progress not perfection and that doing her best, giving her best – this is enough! Recovery Sara knows that whatever plans she has doesn't really matter;  it is Higher Power’s agenda that matters. Humble Sara knows that she is accepted, worthy, and loved by God. She can be pleasing without needing to be approved by others. And the healthy, whole Sara no longer hides behind her insecurities or her attempts to overachieve. She is free to be who God has made her to be.”

As I type and reflect this morning, I am once again humbled by the ways that I’m gently course corrected. I have had some challenges re-entering into my daily life, post-convention. Those same masks want to reappear, and yet there are more masks that have surfaced. I face a new powerlessness: living alone. There are new physical and emotional challenges that I’m dealing with. The mask that I put on is pitier. This really didn't strike a chord in me until writing this post. The pity is for myself to add insult to injury, and this  mask is in direct competition with the overcomer in me. I fight wanting to hide behind the circumstances and pain. That is not who I am, though. I have proven to myself over and over again that I come to my own rescue even as I lean in and own my behaviors. I use the recovery tools that I have, and I will continue down The Healing Lane. This is the real Sara; the one who doesn't need masks, embraces life, and knows her worthiness while humbly asking God to lift her shortcomings. I like her, by the way. 

Open Door to Vulnerability

Sometime early this morning I recall feeling the coolness of the morning breeze, hearing the sounds of the wildlife, and smelling the fragrant scent of jasmine.  I had a quite a surprise when I awoke to find the door from my bedroom to the backyard ajar. My initial reaction was, “how did that happen and how long has it been open?”  My deduction is that the wind blew it open, or that mastermind feline Macie managed to open it. She manages to open another door to the patio regularly. My mind didn't rest on how the door was opened because my feelings became much more apparent: I felt extremely vulnerable. I would not be your outdoorsy type nor comfortable with various outdoor critters making their way into my home. Nor do I allow any other kind of unwelcomed critters into my bedroom.

This vulnerability has triggered something in me that has prompted my desire to write today.  I recognize that this feeling has surfaced in the last few days because I recently learned that I will – for the FIRST time – be living all alone this summer. I have shared my residence with at least one family member or roommate my entire life. I have never, ever lived alone.  

Living alone for many, I realize, is a welcomed - perhaps even needed - respite from an otherwise hectic and packed lifestyle. I have many friends that describe their solitude with such richness and warmth and endearment. I look at them in amazement and some disbelief. It is only in the last year that I can embrace solitude for its gift. But I can seek solitude in a number of ways; I don’t need to live alone to experience that. In contrast to solitude, loneliness brings up feelings that are not soul enriching. I have been addressing my loneliness for some time. The intensity of the loneliness has lessened as well as the duration of those intense feelings. 

Another concern of mine is responsibility. I must fully recognize that I will go through an adjustment. I’m not very good at routines and the thought of remembering to take out the trash to the garbage container and then take the bins to the curb is slightly unsettling. Add to this the watering of the plants – inside and out – and the daily maintenance of the animals; the pool and the mail; and the overall well-being of the house. I recognize my shortcomings and know that this lack of taking responsibility and being a good caretaker (in this sense, it really is care-taking!) are on my list. I have some anxiety about my really taking on this responsibility.  I also know I have an opportunity to show myself my fully functioning adult behavior capabilities and I believe I will rise to the occasion.

Now back to feeling vulnerable. I believe this is what is the crux of the matter to my living alone for the first time in my nearly 50 years. The security, safety, and shared responsibility will no longer be resting on my having someone living with me. It is now solely on me to provide for my own security and well-being. The image that comes to mind is a child, cold and alone, in the wilderness.  Whew! That speaks vulnerability to me. The gift in expressing my feelings and exposing my thoughts is that I can now examine them. I can validate my vulnerability and acknowledge my truth, but also choose where I want to go with this information.

The truth is that I am a very capable adult. I have resources to do and hire what I need to do to care for my surroundings. I may have a bit of a challenge to get into the groove of things, but I am a responsible adult and I will care and tend to my needs. I am not a child alone in the wilderness even if there is a part of me that feels that way. The helplessness, uncertainty, confusion…not knowing what to do, if anything…all point to feelings of vulnerability that this morning’s open door exposed. What I have been reading and learning about vulnerability is that as uncomfortable as it may feel, just embrace whatever the circumstance is by daring greatly (see the quote by Theodore Roosevelt used by Brené Brown). By continuing to “show up” in my own life, I am becoming the person I envision myself to be. I am merely entering a new scenic path along my journey. It is where I find myself and what I call The Healing Lane.

Lean in and Own It

    I have found such deep healing in the love and acceptance of knowing my God loves me - flaws and failures, quirks and smirks, whether I’m happy or sad, grouchy or glad.  There is a comfort and peace these recent months; more than I have ever known.  Yet, the last couple of weeks I have felt the return of some of the less pleasant feelings. This has been troubling and challenging because I am wrestling with a returned intensity of loneliness. I acknowledge that in struggling with these feelings, I am again finding myself wanting to minimize them and dismiss them as unjustified and unwarranted. Fortunately, these many months of therapy have brought gifts of awareness and there is a more compassionate me to be less critical of myself when these feelings surface.

    Having said that, I can also identify that I am susceptible to addictive behaviors since the unrest and discomfort prompt those feelings of pain to the level of wanting to escape and medicate. I know well enough that acting out in my compulsive behaviors or numbing away my feelings will only delay what I need to face. My commitment level to my healing is much greater than that; no – the Sara of recent years is “lean in and own it”. That’s just how I bend these days; I do not want to return to the numb Sara.

    So let’s lean in and find out what I need to own. What is it about this loneliness that is so difficult? I begin with asking myself when is the pain the worst? The bewitching hour is when I go to bed; I simply want to share my life with someone, and I don’t like sleeping alone.  The intellect of that statement is simple enough; I believe by design we are programmed to want to connect. I can see that loneliness is part of accepting my present circumstances. What has been particularly difficult is the intensity of these feelings, though.  They can be rather unpleasant.

    I am all too familiar with gripping pain. I remember feeling a deep, into-my-core, kind of pain when I was married. This was perhaps the worst of the worst since I was physically next to someone whom I loved, to whom I had made vows of lasting love and commitment, and who I wanted desperately to love me. Yet, there I was – devastated in the bitter loneliness of rejection. That kind of loneliness is truly debilitating. My medicating and escaping were understandable, albeit so very unhealthy.

    The loneliness that I am feeling of late is not the same thankfully. I am not rejected and I am aware that I am by myself, yet I am not alone.  Rather, this loneliness has some residue of an early time from my childhood. What I recall from my days as a young girl growing up in my family of origin is that I knew I was loved; that I was aware that I had a very good life because my parents provided for me and took care of my (physical) needs. I had such compassion for those I perceived as less fortunate than I, especially those existing on such minimal provision. I wanted to be grateful for what I had been given. I suppose I learned at an early age to minimize my needs because I didn't feel that I was particularly worthy of having it “better” than someone else.   

     There is a certain type of loneliness in that kind of thinking because I couldn't share those feelings deep inside me. To do so would expose something very shameful in me – that having such emotional needs was to be greedy, needy, demanding, and ungrateful.  I think what I wanted was the kind of attention of being seen and appreciated for in my complexity as a person, not merely for the compliant child who did for others.  There was a sense that because I had been given more than most children, to voice any additional need was to be ungrateful. I hadn't done anything particularly worthy of what I had been given so asking for more than what I was given would have been audacious, and that was very unacceptable. In fact to express it would have been shameful.

     Back to today’s loneliness: what does all this have to do with my recent feelings (I’m leaning in; I’m willing to own it, but it doesn't always make sense to me.)  I suppose I’m back to the issue of asking for more. Do I get to voice my needs, because I’m feeling very undeserving and unentitled. Yet, if asked…I want more.  I see that more is available and I want the fullness that I see is available. Wanting that exposes some guilt and shame (again?! They seem to reappear over and over, don’t they?) because I think it says that I am ungrateful.  I know that I have come far in my healing; that I have awareness and acceptance.  I have worked through so many issues, I have overcome a lot of my harmful and unhealthy behaviors. There is this sense that my gratitude for this should suffice.  I am truly grateful. These feelings of wanting more expose how young Sara related to her world. As an adult I get to define my needs and set about getting them met.  There is no guilt or shame in that, and to my surprise, by my releasing those, I also feel less lonely.   In fact, I feel empowered by my adult awareness, and realize that only my opinion on what is enough matters. There is nothing lonely in that, but I alone get to make that call!

Damnit, I’m Angry

Does anger imply unforgiveness? This morning I think I have uncovered a belief that might be part of my obstacle with expressing anger, coming from my discomfort of having anger to begin with. I want to be healthy with my feelings and emotions, allowing myself to feel anger rather than default to pain and crying.  Interrupting that cycle is not easy, but I’m willing to do what I need to do to get to the other side of this.

I wasn’t overjoyed over my assignment to list the things that I am angry about concerning my brother David, but I did embrace the possibility that I could get clarity and become released from the pain cycle I experience so regularly. I shared with my mother some of the things that were discussed at therapy yesterday, in particular about the relationship with David and my struggle with anger. She brought up that I needed to forgive and be released from the resentment (something along those lines). Now I’m experiencing something that I hadn't anticipated – anger over not being allowed to have my anger without something else attached to it. Right now, I have this sense that I have to be justified in my anger: that anger is bad unless there is something righteous about it. I am feeling defensive about having anger, yet wanting to express it. Even further, I am aware of wanting to be validated for the work around anger and how difficult it has been for me to do this. There is a lot of young Sara in this, I see.

The interesting part is how this issue of anger has tapped into an anger source. Why do I feel so compelled to dismiss my anger? Why do I not feel comfortable being angry? Why does forgiveness have to be attached to my anger? Can’t I just be angry without being offended and resentful and justified? I am angry that the issue of anger was so huge that I couldn't (wouldn't?) be angry for myself. Instead, it was expected that I be compliant, respectful, helpful, agreeable, pleasant, happy, trusting, dependable. There wasn't any room for anger. I've bought into this thinking, or perhaps I created it. I just know that being angry doesn't come easily unless it is in defense of someone else. Then it comes rather quickly.

So today I press inward with intention and tenacity to feel what I don’t want to feel. I strap on my recovery cloak and mentally go to places that are difficult to remember. I do this because I love myself enough to believe there is a happier life on the other side of this pain. I trust the process even though I want to run, hide, medicate, and otherwise become numb to all of this. I grow tired of this work but I continue on with determination.

I think I was the “hero” of the family. I recall being asked about the roles we each take on in our family of origin. It just seems apparent that as the middle child, the girl, the compliant one, the pleaser…I was the hero (rather than the clown, the scapegoat, etc). So when I hear in my head, “Sara, what’s your problem? You don’t have to be so angry about it.” I wonder what was that about? What am I really feeling? Where do I go with that anger?

When Eric felt anger, he got angry. Or least he did often enough that I remember it very vividly. When he was done being angry he reappeared in his charming manner, quickly returning to the family fold most notably to my mother’s good graces. His anger was attributed to his maleness and his genealogy. When I got angry, it wasn't the same. I felt the disapproval which usually resulted in my going to my room, crying, and feeling alone as if I had done something wrong, ushering in guilt and shame.

I’m being told that I need to feel my anger, yet it is so hard to access. And when I do, it is deeply painful. Attached to experiencing that painful anger is the fear of what happens when I do, meaning I associate there being rejection, loneliness, guilt, and shame. So that pretty much covers it…anger carries with it all of the other feelings: pain, fear, loneliness, guilt, shame.

I think I have to be with this for a while. Fortunately, The Healing Lane offers some good views and some helpful tools.