Old Feelings, New Behaviors and Happy Anniversary

I am approaching my four year anniversary of recovery from co-dependency, co-addiction, and compulsive behaviors. I cannot believe how differently my life looks and feels today. I have such gratitude waking up with contentment and serenity. I have traveled a lot of miles along The Healing Lane, seeking and pushing forward, resting at times, and slowing the pace when needed.

It was July 14, 2012 – it’s amazing how certain dates are etched in our memories – when my transformation began. It is the day that my tolerance for my husband’s addictions and my co-dependent behaviors with it were confronted. Seventeen years earlier in July, however, is when I learned about his addiction when he disclosed to me why he had been so miserable and angry. It is one of the most painful moments I have experienced. It is this anniversary that has me thinking about and dealing with some feelings that I have avoided for quite a while.

There is an intensity to my feelings as I’m taken back to that summer evening in 1995. It is when I learned that my husband was addicted to pornography and that he had several compulsive sexual behaviors that made up his sexual life. Alongside this, however, was the awareness and painful realization that he was unable to have intimate sexual relations with me. It was a double-sided knife that bore into my core as I tried to understand that he had a whole sexual life apart from me while not participating in a sexual life with me. It was a lot to take in. Like bent over in gripping pain a lot. It wasn’t until I started recovery that I had terms for this. He is a sex addict that acts out by compulsively seeking sexual pleasure outside the relationship as well as acting in by compulsively avoiding sexual and emotional intimacy. The latter description is about sexual avoidance or sexual anorexia, both terms I have come to use about the disease that has affected me so greatly.

My therapy and recovery are about dealing with my behaviors and my disease. These have included many lessons on learning how to remain present when issues from my past, uncomfortable feelings, triggering episodes, and traumatic events surface. Letting go of my unhealthy coping behaviors such as compulsive eating, smoking, shopping, sex, or numbing (tv and computer), working, obsessive thinking, (the list goes on) has taken a lot of fortitude, honesty, and effort. I’m reminded when uncomfortable feelings or situations occur that simply staying sober is an accomplishment because I had become so accustomed to medicating away those feelings. Fortunately, I have been a good student and I have learned healthy behaviors and to stay present for myself.

This is why I think that when this memory of my husband’s disclosure surfaced recently, I could use the tools and experiences to help navigate through them without needing to use those outdated coping behaviors. In this case, it was that I was feeling again how alone I was having just heard his confession and with absolutely no understanding of these compulsive sexual behaviors. I felt completely and utterly rejected by my husband and yet there was an expectation to forgive him and to be supportive of his dealing with this issue. What I didn’t know is that this was a traumatic experience for me. My life completely changed in that moment. I was no longer in the dark; it was the passing of what remained of my innocence. The world of addiction and its devastating effects had now overtaken me and my life. Overwhelmed with feelings, thoughts, and expectations, I did what was natural to me: I rose to the challenge by becoming super-supportive and stuffing what I couldn’t process. I can see that how I reacted to the pressures, feelings, and circumstances reveals my issues.

I don’t actually remember much from the days that followed. As they re-surface, I am choosing to be understanding, compassionate, and loving to myself. I can accept that at that time that I acted in what I thought was in the best interest for my family. I did forgive him; I did support him; I did, in fact, do everything I knew to do to help him, be understanding, come to his aid, take the high road, travel the low road when it was needed, and to be the wife that stood by her addicted husband. I became a classic case of a co-dependent of a sex-addict. I really thought I was helping him and doing the right thing. And I really thought it would work.

My choice to stay in the marriage and to fight for our family, especially noting the impact to our young son, was honorable. Meanwhile I didn’t understand what was happening to me by not receiving the help that I needed. My husband’s issues were the focus and my job was to forgive and to find help for him. For eight years this is what I did. I sought out every program and possibility for help that I knew. Eventually I gave up. I was exhausted, had lost hope, and was filled with shame. I thought that I had failed by not being enough. Or too much. Whatever it was, it was partly my fault or maybe even mostly my fault. I was supposed to be able to save him. My guilt, shame, pain, anger, loneliness, and fear were more than I could handle and so another of my issues – medicating feelings instead of expressing them – took hold in increasingly harmful ways.

I know differently now. His shame is not mine to carry; I have my own around abandoning myself and for the compulsive behaviors I have engaged in to medicate away my pain. I can honor myself by allowing stuffed feelings to surface and be expressed. I can forgive myself for not putting myself as a priority, for falling into the depression that nearly swallowed me up, and for becoming morbidly obese.

What I seek today it to be present for myself as I allow those really intense feelings to surface. I cry. I breathe and follow the paths of sensation in my body. I speak kindly and lovingly to myself. I repeat affirmations of my value and worthiness. I reach out to friends. I reach for God. I turn inward and access peace, serenity, and joy. I continue working the Twelve Steps. I am alone and yet, I am never alone.

This anniversary is a celebration. It is a reminder of what has changed in four years – in 21 years! – and the marvelous journey of The Healing Lane. 

Must be a Family Thing: Having awareness and compassion in patterns of behavior

There is an added gift of awareness when family visit. Common patterns of behavior become evident, and with it the opportunity to shift or change. I haven’t always considered this awareness a gift. In fact, it used to be triggering and upsetting when I would see these patterns because I was reminded of my own shortcomings. I hadn’t accepted my imperfections so to look at my character defects was to see faults and flaws. Recovery brings acceptance of my present and past, with it compassion for myself about things I didn’t know.

This past week my brother and nephew have been visiting me in my home.  The home I now reside in solely with my two cats. I’ve done quite a bit of work to appreciate my own good company and the freedom that comes with living alone. I welcomed their visit as it has been a great blessing to me to be the recipient of their kindness, consideration, and generosity. I will miss them when they return to their home in the Midwest tomorrow. As guests go, they are truly delightful. And as guests go, that doesn’t mean there aren’t some adjustments.

Several nights this week we have watched a TV program or movie before going to bed. When the program is over, my brother stands up, says good night, and heads to bed – leaving behind his beverage container or glass, and possibly shoes or a dish as well.  I recall that my father and mother had this same behavior, although my mother was less apt to be watching TV so I haven’t associated this with her for the most part. My younger brother also has this same habit. I’m remembering heated discussions with my husband (now ex-husband) about this same habit which was very irritating to him. It just hadn’t been a practice of mine to take my glass to the kitchen and put it in the dishwasher before I went to bed. It was, however, the standard in his family, and I soon learned to make this a practice in my own home (and when I’m a guest at others’).

It occurred to me today that something that has become simple and clear to me as responsible, respectable behavior is likely not clear to my brother.  He is merely behaving in the fashion that was modeled to him and which is just normal behavior. Most certainly I have choices about this; I know I can ask him to put his glass in the dishwasher before going to bed. This lesson isn’t about boundaries. It’s about what has been modeled and what becomes normal.

This awareness about bedtime behavior has prompted my thinking about the patterns of thinking and behaving, too. There are many family patterns that come to mind. It is standard for members of my family to volunteer and to serve others. It is common within my family to want to understand the motives behind things – we call it “getting to the bottom of things”. We are problem-solvers and communicators. There is a long list of attributes. What I can also see are the traits not so favorable. Things like being critical, procrastinating, collecting material excess, people-pleasing, and overeating. There are others. It really doesn’t matter whether it is not cleaning up after myself when I go to bed or care taking others in my co-dependency. Both of these, for instance, were no longer behaviors I wanted to continue.

Recovery has helped me to see that it isn’t so much about assigning good and bad to my thoughts, feelings, and behaviors, but rather it is about seeing the gift in learning why I do certain things and that I have choices as to whether I want to continue doing them or not. Once I have identified those character defects and become willing to have God remove them, I have a loving God to lift those shortcomings as He sees fit including when He sees fit. To help me even further, I have self-compassion while knowing that I may just be doing what was considered “normal” behavior. I don’t have to blame myself, my parents, my family, the system, or anyone or anything else for my behaviors. I believe that is my part in choosing serenity. 

A Course in Gratitude

A lot can change in three years.

I am one of those people who reflects on “this day in history” and now even more so in my own life. I have always been an historian of sorts, keeping track of important dates, even getting my post-baccalaureate in education to teach history. I have a timeline running in my head that I post information provided to me from people and in my own life. At certain times of the year, the timeline becomes vibrant. Holidays are like that. Certain seasons are like that. July is very much that for many reasons, but this post is about one week in particular.

Three years ago this week my husband moved out of our house. It was unexpected and surreal in nature. I had gone to work, even plotting how to move out maybe over the weekend. I feared confronting him, anticipating a big blow-up with lots accusations and rage. What happened instead, is that his brother confronted him and within hours, he had instead moved out and I was walking the halls of my home noticing the lifting of the oppressive spirit that permeated my home for years. I walked around in disbelief. Could it have been that simple? Could the split-up have taken me more by surprise? I had wanted this for many years, not choosing it for a number of reasons. Only days before had it become clear to me that I reached the end of my rope. 

I sat on the patio for the first time in ages; it, too, was an uncomfortable place because it had that “presence” there. Now, freed from his glares, anger, and resentment, I sat with myself and my new reality. I  remember thinking, I would like a cigarette. It occurred to me that I could smoke right there on my patio and no one was there to judge me, criticize me, or create a hostile environment. I promptly went and bought a pack of cigarettes and smoked a bunch of them. It was an act of liberation for me, even if I did have to contend with the negative aspects of the smoking behavior later.

Debra was recommended to me by another therapist I had consulted to get some counsel on what to do with this new information I had learned about my husband’s behaviors. The dysfunction and disconnect at my house had become nearly unbearable as it was, and I had just learned part of the reasons why it was so. I needed help and I wanted the kind of help that produced results. I know that my Higher Power was looking over me when He connected me with Debra. What an answer to the many prayers I’d said and cried the previous 24 years. My first session with Debra was July 25, 2012. Yes, that one is on my timeline; maybe even with a little star. 

My first appointment I showed up angry at my husband, confused, hurt, and dismayed. I also showed up ready to take action. She recommended Twelve Step programs and told me I would find support. She was right. I did find support. I found a group of people that related to my story, offering experience, strength, and hope. I found out that I can recover from being the partner of an addict, from my own codependency, and from my own addictions. I am experiencing the joy of a life in recovery – the blessings and promises from working the program. I’ve asked myself, and God, why I didn’t find Twelve Step previously. I’ve come to accept that the unfolding of my life is just as it should be. I don’t have to regret the past.

In therapy, I have had had to look inward and had the willingness, fortitude, and commitment to be rigorously honest with myself. This is a requirement of my healing, usually accessed easily but not always. I have spent countless hours doing the necessary work to come to an understanding of why I do what I do, and to learn how to do something differently. It was clear that I had a low sense of self-worth and that tending to myself included putting my needs at the top of my priority list. I’ve said this many times – recovery is not for sissies. Debra has affirmed my efforts throughout my three years of working with her. It is nice to have that validation because it hasn’t been easy, and the work continues. 

I have been replaying the events of three years ago and reflecting on my life today in contrast to what it was like then. Gratitude hardly describes the feeling I have. I am experiencing joy and contentment I haven’t felt in years, if ever. I started therapy, recovery, and this whole process of “getting fixed” because I wanted to be in a relationship that included the loving exchange and acceptance of each other. I’ve learned that the relationship that needed the most healing is with myself, changed by the relationship with the God of my understanding. And now, beautifully and by much of a surprise, I am dating a man with whom I am showing up as my authentic self. He loves me and accepts me as I am. It is far better than I had ever hoped and imagined. Relationships take a whole lot of work regardless, but I now can say that seeking to be healthy and honest produces different results! My relationships with my family and friends are the best ever. Yes, life looks a whole different, and it sure looks a whole lot better!  

Suit Up and Show Up

Yesterday in a texting chat with my dear friend in another state I found myself referencing the common phrase “suit up and show up”. Suiting up can take various forms and although I haven't put oodles of thought into this, ir is worth some reflection.  Sometimes I show up in my business suit: prepared, confident, content. It’s really great to be able to show up feeling and looking great (metaphorically at least,). I"m saying to myself and others that I’ve done the work to be confident, prepared, and content. There is  still work to be done, but I draw on the many resources available to me much as a professional does at work. I wear my business suit far less often than my other suits; it is really nice to see that suit in my closet and to know I do wear it. 

Most often, I show up in my sweatsuit -- not to be in contrast to the business suit, as in lazy. Rather, this is my active, knowing-that-I-have-quite-a-lot-of-work-to-do outfit: my workout gear. There might be some real grit required – blood, sweat, and tears kind of stuff.  I wear this suit most often because I am such a fighter. I strive to get to the heart of the matter and to do the things I need to do to get through whatever is holding me back. I have come to accept what has been told to me about me: I"m a bit of an "all in" kind of person. (I hear the theme to “Rocky” playing.) There is something empowering about the sweatsuit that speaks to recovery.  And just because it is a sweatsuit doesn't mean it isn't stylish or that I don't have on some complimentary jewelry. 

The third is the birthday suit. In this case, the suiting up is actually taking off the pretension, the blinders, and/or the masks. It is getting real. Dreams of me at school or work naked come to mind. This is my vulnerability suit. The one that requires me to risk and to dare greatly. Much like the sweatsuit, birthday suit wearing requires a different mindset.  I'm stretched to the nines because I’m exposed to the world and everyone can see my flaws. It asks for a bit of tenacity and courage as well. I'm thinking that the sweatsuit helps get me to be able to risk taking off my masks. Recovery has required a great deal of vulnerability that is for sure. I’m getting more and more accepting of this truth, and in it, the exposure while wearing this suit.

As I write this, I’m recalling the innocence of an infant and hence the connection to the birthday suit. Debra has been referring to the ego-centric nature of a child. Every need has to be met by the child’s caregiver. Needs that go unmet during childhood I’ve recently learned are “narcissistic wounds”. I haven't cared for that term as it stirs feelings of discomfort around being selfish, self-centered, and needy. Many of us learned at an early age that those are not traits to have. I know that by age four that this belief was well ingrained in me: do not be selfish. This is an interesting topic for me of late because I’m pretty certain that my parents’ intention was to instill a sense of “otherness” in me. Indeed, I learned that sharing was a necessary social rule, as well as consideration of others in general. It is a great trait and I believe in fact that I am a generous, compassionate, and empathetic person. Yet, here I am dealing with issues around this topic and the mere thought of being called "selfish" is gut-wrenching.

What I’m learning, however, is that selfishness as I perceived it also included “neediness” which translated as wanting attention, or perhaps, just to be noticed and cared for more directly and with affection. Neediness therefore in my young mind  (and I'm thinking in my adult mind, too) was "appearing to have a need but really just wanting attention". Neediness is one of the worst traits one can have: a core belief that has perhaps driven much of my actions without my awareness. Needing and wanting attention were simply the needs of a child who wanted to be heard and seen. She wanted to feel important. Pretty standard stuff.

My needs were met, certainly. That is, what I perceived as real needs: food, shelter, clothing, tending to broken bones. There were others, such as those my brothers each had at this time in my life. One was nearly failing school and the other was being bullied. I certainly understood my parents' tending to those issues. I perhaps needed a hug; along with the knowledge of how to ask for it. Seems simple. Why the hell does it take my getting back into my birthday suit to get it figured out? Not sure…but I’m willing to do what it takes to figure it out (sweatsuit?). I am learning how to identify my feelings and the needs associated with those feelings, and then tend to them. As I do, or when that need is met perhaps by another, those narcissistic wounds get healed. That is my understanding anyway, and I’ve been experiencing a bit of that recently. The term is also sounding less bothersome. I'm grasping with greater understanding that children - including me as a child - are by nature needy. It isn't about blame or my folks' parenting even. It is about a need that is still showing up today that once identified, I can tend to as a healthy adult. 

I remain on my Healing Lane, continuing on this path of recovery and learning life’s lessons along the way. I do love this life of discovery and learning to make choices that produce greater happiness.  I’ve come to see the gifts with each step and to recognize that I am growing and changing. That I do suit up, which sometimes involves a bit of just taking it all in. It feels like that today. 

Sometimes it takes a Meltdown

This morning I had a meltdown. Writing that reminds me what it felt like at the beginning of my recovery when I first learned to say, “Hi, I’m Sara and I’m an addict” or “I’m Sara a co-dependent.” There is a thread of shame in acknowledging that I had a meltdown. It sounds so “unrecovered” to me. Hence, the need to face it, own it, and share it. That kind of arrogance speaks to the very need for continuing along this recovery path. I’ve come to accept there are no graduations, just growth. No destinations, just more scenery along the Healing Lane. I’m reminded yet again that health is a life-long journey.

What sparked my emotional turmoil? Housekeeper Friday. As I set about de-cluttering my house, attempting to make my home decent enough to have the wonderful husband and wife team who have been tending to my house for many years do the actual cleaning, I was faced with a whole lot of reality. That being the stuff that has piled up over the last few years. Ok, the last several years and the last few to an even greater measure. My house has become unmanageable with clutter and my life has become unmanageable with the ways I have avoided addressing it. I’m not a candidate for Hoaders but I think I would have been for TLC’s former (sadly) Clean Sweep. I loved that show because Peter Walsh, the professional organizer, was so direct about his suggestions in getting rid of “stuff” while showing a great deal of compassion to those he was helping. I miss that show. I want to hire Peter.

As I withdrew to my bedroom, thinking I might be on the verge of panic. I threw a lifeline to Erma via a text: “What’s the difference between a meltdown and a breakdown?” The phone rang moments later. The familiar, calming, “Saaaaaara…what’s up?” immediately brought me into the optimal zone. I could feel my backing away from the edge.  Later upon thinking about the difference, I decided that if I was having a breakdown, I would be found eventually. If it was a meltdown, I would find myself. And that I did in the form of reaching out. From there came reasoning and awareness. We talked about the effects of divorce, recovery, avoidance, and all of the changes the last few years have brought. I thought about my life pattern of procrastination and its connection to perfection. I started to see the slight but significant changes to that pattern.

One of them is that I had recently begun mini-tasking. This is my word for taking the mounds of work to be done and putting them into very small but doable tasks. These are things like taking one shoebox to sort, or a drawer; one bag of clothes to donate; one pile of papers; five or ten minutes at a project. I have actually been doing some of that, and I was able to recall this after several minutes with Erma. Friends are such priceless gifts. How could one really fathom the value of a friend? I am so very wealthy in this regard. I have numerous friends who are so very near and dear to me, where I can be honest and authentic.

Something else surfaced for me during our talk. I saw that the accumulation of stuff is not unlike the accumulation of weight. Both of these have been an issue for me, and both represent avoidance. Both take up a lot of head time and lead toward obsessive thinking. They represent extreme behaviors to me – whether in avoidance or in attacking it with my “all-in” mentality. It is how I relate to myself. These two areas are revealing to me I have much to learn about this important relationship and the things I value, not just people. The discovery is just beginning, so in all likelihood I will have a future post on this topic.

One of the gems from today’s dealings has been a reflection which came in the form of a text to my mom who had pointed out that progress requires some perseverance. I responded with “The lesson of love reaches into one’s own heart to say I’m worth the effort to do the good and right thing on my own behalf.” I realize how impactful it is to me that I said that to my mother who is my greatest cheerleader, support, as well as my caretaker (in recovery, I should add). She would have come to my aid in a minute. She in fact has been eager to come to my aid as she has seen my poor choices and the consequences of them. However, I see that it is my choice to do what is good and right for me that is really key here. I don’t need rescuing. I may need some help, though, and for that I simply need to ask. Or hire Peter Walsh. 

A Healthy Relationship is Possible

In thinking about The Healing Lane and wondering why my posts are so few these days, I realize I am torn about the level of transparency in my current recovery. During the earlier days of recovery my struggles with my dysfunctional behaviors beckoned reflective writing. It was a tool for me to process and release what was going on inside of me. I haven’t had the same drive to write, yet a part of me feels incomplete without some regular release. I am renewing my efforts to do this as a means to honor my own recovery. It is the next phase of my growth.  I’ve certainly accepted that there is no graduating out of recovery but rather a long journey of discovery and seeking greater and greater levels of health. Erma refers to it as the higher elevations. I like that. The struggles are different, the reflections less about those pivotal "aha moments" and more of a shift. Perhaps less dramatic but just as impactful as these shifts in my thinking are significant milestones along my journey. 

What has my life looked like in recent months? I have been practicing and applying all of the tools that I have obtained. I have come to this conclusion: healthy relationships require EVERY bit of therapy and recovery work. The dollars and minutes I’ve spent have a direct payoff. I am grateful for each and every investment. I don’t regret the cost to my pocketbook or calendar. It is perhaps the highest form of self-love I have ever done on my own behalf.  If I was a millionaire, I would set up a foundation for those who need the kind of intense therapy I’ve had the privilege of having. It would be a means of paying it forward to those who cannot otherwise afford it. The reason: I like this Healthy Sara and how I am showing up for myself these days. After all, I have been seeking healing for this very purpose. The driving belief is that in learning to do things differently, I can choose those behaviors and therein get different results. Bottom line: it works (she notes with a grin, a high-five, and atta girl). I wish I could gift this kind of value that I feel to others who are willing to put in the work to experience this kind of freedom and contentment. 

Update! About seven months ago I heard from an old boyfriend. Gotta love social media for the opportunities that present themselves these days. We have been in contact daily and gone through a  series of boundary changes along with the full range of emotions that accompany those. It has been a season of growth and adjustment, all seeking to relate honestly, authentically, and risk being vulnerable. A romance has blossomed. Next bottom line: I am in love (full blown smile, a blush and hug).

This reflection isn’t my story of falling in love, it is my thoughts about my story. Being in love is a whole new thing for me. Along with all the feel-good, hormonal highs from the dopamine and serotonin, are the doubts, insecurities, old tapes, fears, pain, and otherwise discomfort that my 50 years have accumulated. The two sides co-exist. Learning how to validate and appreciate both sides is one of the gifts of this new state of mine. The “feel good” is marked with sensations I had long ago forgotten. Giddiness, overall happiness, acceptance, and being sexually aroused are just a few of them. I say things like “I feel, 14, 25, and 50” because those ages all have meaning in terms of my relating to my fella. I was 14 when we first dated and discovered those feelings of love and sexuality. We remained good friends for many years, last seeing each other during a visit to our hometown when I was 25. I was married and he was engaged. We had no other contact between that time and most recently. I will share a lot more about the joys of reconnecting and to be in love. Just not today.

Let me share more about the doubts and discomfort. These require a fully stocked toolbox. Good news – I have one. First up: identify and own my feelings. Joy and love and happiness…not much to expressing those and sharing with the world these gifts. I certainly have a better appreciation for the love songs and phrases regarding being in love. It is very tempting to get caught up in those feelings and push aside the others. What an opportunity to do something different! How about validating those less desirable feelings, too? Debra has said so many times, “They can both be true. You can have joy AND pain (or anger or loneliness or…). They can coexist.” Paying attention to the physical signs in my body as well as my thoughts and feelings is a starting point for me. It is almost always a reference point in therapy (“And about this you feel…”).

So I’m doing that! I’m not only paying attention and identifying, but I am expressing and validating. I am speaking up and sharing. I am feeling so damned vulnerable I feel like a Brené Brown prodigy. I agree with Brené by the way…it doesn’t ever stop being challenging. It isn’t like I wake up and say “What a great to be vulnerable!” Quite to the contrary.  For me, if I were to put words to the approach it is more like “Let’s show up today. Beware: this might require some vulnerability on your part. Sara, you are worth it, you can do it, and you will be glad you did.” Healthy Sara speaking; she is right. I’m glad that I have been showing up and speaking up. I’m so very glad I’m willing to be vulnerable and honest. Healthy Sara is authentic and the real deal. I find that others also appreciate that. Those that don’t aren’t the ones I want around anyway.  In feeling, sharing, and expressing honestly these other feelings and the thoughts that accompany them, I actually validate the other feelings of joy and love as well. The whole person actually is happier! I've learned that in allowing some anger to be expressed leads to a deeper, truer happiness. 

This blog, and today this posting in particular, is about my journey in finding my authentic self, requiring being vulnerable to a great extent.  Through writing, affirming myself and sharing with others my thoughts about a topic, lesson, or event in my life, it is as if I’m coming out of hiding.  I am ready to share what it is like to be challenged each day yet having learned to process much of my own work and to validate and affirm myself for that work. I have so much to learn, so much to experience, higher elevations to reach.  I am happy to share today’s lessons, today’s experiences, today’s views. 

My First, First Date (in quite awhile!)

I was 22 when I met my now ex-husband. I had thought it was going to be my last first date. For a time I feared it was my last first day. I feared it during my marriage (as in feeling trapped) and then again after my divorce (as in feeling unlovable). Those fears were replaced with the simple fear of facing the uncertainty of romance. Nervousness and thoughts of rejection certainly don’t disappear with age. I’m understandably more apprehensive now than I was back then at that young naive age.

I’ll revisit life in The Healing Lane this last week by sharing a little more of my recent experience. It started with the question exchange though the dating site - which is kind of random but I guess it is a starting point and avoids the awkwardness of "pickup lines". Following this (which btw, rarely happens) and a series of back and forth exchanges, we decided to move to private emails. I found this gentleman rather entertaining with his witty sense of humor and a willingness to banter with me on a number of subjects. It became apparent that at some point within exchanges that we were going to have to meet face to face before we moved much further in our communication. One of my dear friends, experienced in this line of dating, strongly recommended that we meet for coffee or for only a short time to avoid the awkwardness of an extended date when there is no attraction. So I recommended we meet at Whole Foods.

His response to this suggestion was comical because he admitted that he would never hear the end of it from his friends if our first date was to a grocery store! He persuaded me to meet at a restaurant and that we would only order beverages. After a short time, he would ask if I wanted to order dinner and I could politely decline (actually he had a very funny list of three options that had me laughing hysterically) or accept. So I agreed to the dinner. By the way. It was a late dinner because our schedules were limiting our mutual availability.

I share all of that context because I mostly want to reflect on my recovery and how it showed up. Once the date was set, I had just a few hours to make necessary adjustments and arrangements so I didn't allow for obsessing over my hair, makeup, clothes, pedicure, manicure, jewelry, conversation topics, accessories, whether my teeth were white enough, and any and every way to present myself in a favorable light. No, I just had enough time to shower and do the basics. I was going to have to go “as is” without any special dolling up. That’s the point, isn’t it? How do I feel about myself? How comfortable am I in my every day, normal run-of-the-mill self? Do I like me and do I like how I present myself to the public? The answer was surprising, even to me. I decided I am ok. Am I conscientious about my weight, my age, and other pieces of me? Well, certainly I am. The shift is that I am aware I have stopped carrying around the blanket of shame. I no longer hold myself in a place of feeling disgraced by my size, lack of income, age, marital status, or that I am an addict. This is the gift of recovery.  This is the gift of learning that God of the Universe created me to be loved and to love, and that as I am right now, I am as lovable as any other time before now or to come.

So on my first, first date in nearly 28 years, I showed up authentically, my perfectly imperfect self. I smiled and conversed. I listened and shared about my interests, my passions, my family, my lessons. I even shared about my recovery; it is a very important part of who I am today. I enjoyed the company of a gentleman and he enjoyed mine. We spent about four hours talking and smiling and sharing. He did much more of the listening and I nervously kept talking. I was reminded that some things don’t change with dating. The part about putting oneself out there…that remains. We each get to decide how “out there” we want to be. Do we want to show up authentically or do we want to project some version of ourselves that protects us, or we think will protect us.

I have learned that not only do I want to show up authentically, but that it gets easier and easier to be that. When I get a sense that a response to my inquiry or comment is not healthy, I know to uphold my boundaries and to protect myself. That behavior is rooted, nurtured, and blooming recovery! It’s much like being an adult (she says with a smirk) and what a wonderful world to live in the present. 

And Now, Let’s Take a Try at the Dating Game

I recently entered the world of on-line dating. Let me share my experience as this has come at quite a bit of angst emotionally and mentally. The world of dating has changed quite a bit since 1987 when I last circulated in this sphere. I would have preferred the “old-fashioned” way of meeting men and hopefully getting asked out on a date (I suppose I could do the asking as well – topic to come). I have been in that general “open” arena for some time and that has produced nada. I have been told by a number of people I needed to venture into on-line dating as that is the way it is done today. Eek.

So with some trepidation I recently decided to make such a venture, I shall acknowledge that I have needed every part of my recovery to get through this process. The first piece – creating a profile. I recommend this for everyone. After all, why limit marketing oneself to job seekers, grant applicants, and singles?  Fortunately there is a prodding process and even if you don’t want to go to the work of writing about yourself, you can choose from a list of answers to the questions. The problem is that simply choosing these does not make one stand out. And in this process I have learned, you want to stand out in a positive way. So don your “I’m wonderful” affirmations and all creativity to describe things like "what you are passionate about", "who has influenced you", "how you spend your leisure time", and "what you’d like for others to notice about you". That last one…well, notice that I’m single and a good catch! HA! It is quite a challenge to not sound vain or insecure; to not sound dull or too into oneself; to portray the attractive qualities and still be somewhat humble about having plenty of shortcomings. I decided the most direct and honest approach was my only comfort zone. To be inauthentic would have gone against every fiber in my body, although the temptation to fudge is certainly there.

The next challenge: selecting a picture. The cover photo is critical. And on my computer, it makes this photo the size of the entire screen, so choose a flattering one. But be sure to select several because I have learned it helps to have a variety of photos. Had I not spent the months learning to love myself, this would have been nearly impossible for me to do. The good news is that I’m fine now. Well almost fine. But the sight of my big pearlies and blue flashers doesn’t send me into a shame spiral. I see a friendly, happy, albeit in her own right, beautiful woman. Whew. I can hardly believe I just wrote that.

So getting through this entire profile process deserved its own reward. That should have guaranteed me a date by the following Saturday night.  In my mind, I’m daring greatly and moving into that arena; I’m living in the Healing Lane not just passing by and trying to survive. I am working it! This isn't how it works. It's not like "hit submit" and your pre-arranged date with man, location, and time just appear. Oh, no, you have to start the matching process. And that takes awhile. Longer than I thought.

The NEXT level of honesty, daring, and vulnerability was needed. Because despite my willingness to put myself “out there” the inquiries and exchanges don’t necessarily happen. I was told that I needed to initiate communication. WHAT?!  It took me a few days to determine which lucky guy was going to hear from me. I send him a message because those questions annoyed me. I bravely hit the send button. And I heard nada. I sent a second one. Nada. So daily I would commit to sending out an inquiry. And continued to get a blank response. I was told to make 10 before I would hear back from someone. So I doubled-up. Then tripled. Then I got very liberal and if there was the slightest interest and it there were not any glaring dealbreakers, I sent an inquiry. And that poo-pooing of the questions? Got myself corrected on that. First off, that is the method. Stick to it. Secondly, it saves time.

Then, after more than a week, I got a response. From a guy in Nevada. And the next day from a guy in Texas. Now how in the heck am I going to get a date from someone in another state? I decided it was worth the practice so I exchanged a few rounds of question and answers and then the lists of deal breakers and must-haves. BTW – before recovery, I did not KNOW about this very important list! It is invaluable as it helps filter out those that aren't suitable to you. Then I got a reply from a local. I think I had things that showed up on his dealbreaker list. Oh, it was likely mutual. Let’s face it – a homebody, shy, exercise buff isn't going to be my ideal match. After a nother week,  I received a response from another local man that actually shared some of my interests like music and travel. Hmmm. This just might lead to something!. Next up:  She finally got a date!

My Extreme Thinking Gets a Modest Makeover

It is now over a year since my divorce. I have been reflecting on the changes this past year with some gratitude and appreciation for having done some really deep work in the emotional realm. I have faced certain parts of my love addiction that have given me new perspective on how I relate to both romantic interests and friendships. I have been rigorously honest and I have held forth the commitment to show up for myself even when it is unpleasant and awkward. It is paying off because I see a difference in how I relate to myself.

I am presently applying the adage that if you want different results than you need to do something differently. My general January approach to weight loss and other life changes is extreme. I wouldn’t have recognized this as extreme because it is what I have always done. I go on diets and start exercise plans and take on massive projects. This year I am making minor adjustments to which I can build upon with the intention of incorporating them into my lifestyle. It is the gentler approach. I must say, it feels kind of “wimpy” because the extreme feels “right”.

It has taken me up until now to grasp that the deprivation of strict dieting or spending restrictions or even massive project undertaking are parts of my addictive behaviors. It is the compulsivity of deprivation or doing without. It is commonly seen in eating disorders or sexual addiction. The excessive end or the deprived end are on the same addiction continuum. Extreme thinking has been arrested. At least for now. Part of my approach is taking it a day at a time. That is all that I can do. It’s also part of the acceptance of my powerlessness, my lack of control, my reliance on a Higher Power.

I have heard Debra share on a number of occasions her perspective on being “healthy”. Basically it is also a continuum. She seeks greater and greater healthy behavior because life continues to unfold and with it the lessons for that day and time. I’m paraphrasing of course. That’s my version but I want to give her credit for this. It is where I am today. It is the acknowledgement that I am living in a healthier place than I was a year ago; I am receiving rewards for the behaviors and decisions to maintain healthy boundaries and to express my feelings. I see those areas that still need work and that is completely wonderfully healthy to see them and accept myself for where I am today. 

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. 

Healing Destination Ahead

Last night I went to bed feeling unsettled, anxious, and somewhat troubled. I have been facing some old stuff with my marriage.  It started surfacing a couple of weeks ago, and it seems to be gaining intensity.  With all my tools, I’m still feeling less than equipped to handle this. Before falling asleep, I said a prayer to lighten my heaviness, knowing I just needed to give it to God.

Interestingly, I had had a most bizarre dream that is so metaphorical that I wanted to share it. It is amazing to me how the spiritual world interacts with our mental and physical limitations to communicate to us valuable information.  The gift of this dream is the peace that I received from knowing God had heard my prayer, and the reminder that I am not alone. I believe my dream is a response to that prayer.

In the dream I was preparing for a long-term trip toward a destination that I believe I referred to as “home”. I had my car packed and was moving down my lane (shall I assume it is The Lane?!) toward this desired destination and feeling very content.  At some point, this path became underwater and I was no longer on the road, but in the midst of a massive lake. I was no longer in the car, recognizing that the lake required something different.  For a moment there was panic on the awareness of not recognizing that the road had ended and for no longer having access to the vehicle to get me to my destination. I felt very alone, and very much wanted rescued.  I looked for help, for the potential for help, and could only see water. In assessing my options, I realized that I was going to need to move toward land. I decided to swim forward in the direction of the destination rather than turn around. I began swimming and was surprised to find out that I found a rhythm to my swimming all the while comforting Little Sara who was with me. There was a peace about me that I could continue, even a welcoming sense of serenity as I felt the water support me. I no longer had thoughts of being rescued but in the present peace of having come to my own rescue and realizing I had strength and abilities I had not known.

Once again, I was taken somewhat by surprise in this peaceful state to having reached a massive bridge-like structure. As in many dreams, it isn't easy to describe what seems so real and obvious in a dream. This structure appeared rather unexpectedly, providing me with a solid footing. I was now grounded and aware that this was more like a station where travelers were in transition. It provided not only safety, but a whole infrastructure to others who were also arriving, leaving, getting refuge, and connecting with others. It became clear that I would likely find a ride to my destination. I observed others also needing assistance. Some were not asking for help, just sitting rather solemnly alone. Others were desperate for help, and others were gathered in a logical place where those offering assistance could connect with those wanting it. I found this place, and it is there that the dream ended.

Upon waking, I remember thinking that the dream was just odd, and it provided more of a vague sensation of confusion than anything else. I then got the thought that there was more to this dream, and I began to feel some encouragement. As I started to write out the dream, I got clarity about the metaphors. The destination is my destiny where I will have found healing, authentic living, and purpose. This journey of mine is indeed about that destination, and the path to get there. It began in preparation and having a reliable car – which I decided is Debra, my therapist. The contentment is the result of the work I've done both in therapy and in recovery.  The path doesn't end abruptly, but I will find myself in a new place, much like finding myself in the lake. I related to this as my powerlessness over my circumstances but quickly finding acceptance of my choices and limitations.  I very much relate to that feeling of being overwhelmed, in a place I didn't know how I got here, and with the uncertainly of what to do to change my circumstances. The cliché of “sink or swim” was rather literal in this dream. I have gratitude to see that I chose to swim. I’m even more pleased to see that I had strength to do things I didn't know that I could do!

The massive bridge/infrastructure is God (Higher Power). It is rather comforting to see this place of refuge, connection, and support.  It is interesting to see that God is representative not in a single entity but in a complex, multi-dimensional collection of structures. It was like a hub of activity.  Those that I saw who just remained alone, not seeking help, represent those wounded and hurt souls who are still accepted and loved by God. I see that there is a responsibility to respond to God’s love and provision. Finally, those who were willing to offer rides are those in recovery such as sponsors who are offer help to those who want it.

It’s an interesting take on The Healing Lane. I can’t take any credit for this, I just record it as a part of my journey, and rest in the gratitude for the gift that it is.

Speaking with Intentionality: Details on The Sara Canvas

Last week I had a surprisingly difficult day emotionally. I felt challenged in oddly old familiar ways that I did not care to revisit. A brief return of old thoughts about not being and doing enough, of not performing well, of the slow pace of recovery encroached on my bliss.  To counteract this, I reminded myself that I have done a lot this past year and of progress I’d made toward healthy living. It occurred to me that having this blog allows me to actually look at my progress by just reading what I had written about a year ago. I was wonderfully rewarded with a post from March 18, 2013, a year ago to the date of my troubled day. The posting is called “The Sara Canvas”. It is about my vision of myself as I entered into this new season of my life. This segment in particular was helpful:

This Sara canvas will have some richness to it. I see the woman who has overcome a lot, but the overriding victory is the absence of addictive behaviors. I have been imagining what it is like to live in contentment and to not be drawn to eating or smoking to fill a void or to avoid feeling pain. This contrasts previous dreams of being thin or being “happy”. This canvas has more depth because it is about an inside job. I believe I will be thin, too, but the real transformation is within. This is because this Sara has grown up and is now a FFA (my short for fully functioning adult), and enjoys the benefits of healthy adulthood. She relates from a place of worthiness; she makes decisions from a place of wholeness and maturity; she exhibits appropriate vulnerability. Her emotions are freely shared, but contained for her sake and others. She is ok with herself and being single, but is an excellent companion as well.

I can hardly describe what I felt as I read these words and realized for the most part, that they had or are coming true. The work has been paying off, and I am living the rewards of showing up for myself.

A dear friend has suggested that I again put to pen with intentionality what is ahead. I see the power in this because after I wrote about my vision, I didn’t rehearse and refer back to it. I didn't focus on this but I received it into my soul and spirit, where it lived.

I reflect tonight about my present situation. I am finishing up a three week weight loss program, wearing jeans that I haven’t worn in the last year. I feel love and acceptance, have self-esteem, can identify a peace within. Life is very good. What does better, or more appropriately, what does healthier look like? I return to my canvas to add details.

This Sara has continued to grow inwardly, building on the confidence, love, self-esteem, and self-compassion she now has. She has continued to work on the wounds that manifested in the mounds of fat. With each pound shed, a parallel weight of shame, pain, and anger has also been released. This has allowed the authentic, confident Sara to emerge. She no longer hides behind the weight, but allows her light to shine becoming attractive to those around her. She is becoming more accustomed to people’s compliments, and is aware of no longer needing others’ assurance and approval to feel loved, but can receive such compliments with humility. Singleness has also become comfortable because she likes who she is and enjoys her solitude, her home, and her relationships. This Sara is aware of the necessity to hold healthy boundaries in dating, which by the way, she thoroughly and readily enjoys. She has learned how to manage her home and her finances, putting those fears of insecurity at bay. Enjoying abundant health in her mind, body, soul, and spirit, Sara has come to understand this word serenity.  With gratitude and joy, her love for others is a motivator in sharing her recovery all-the-while knowing this is critical for working and maintaining it. At 50, this Sara knows that the best is still ahead, seeing opportunity and possibility in nearly every situation. She seeks discernment as to which ones are for her to pursue since her interests are wide and deep, having learned to embrace this live-out-loud life that has been her destiny. 

A Walk in the Park

Some weeks ago I declared an all-out commitment to myself to get to the core of my emotional health issues. I had wanted to start dating to help with the loneliness of being single. Newly divorced, I felt the freedom to pursue romance in my life. The problem became apparent that the kind of man I would attract would likely be in a similar healthy state as I.  That was not going to be good enough.  I also recognized the root of the issue was my own sense of unworthiness due to low self-esteem. I recognized in my intellect that I should and wanted to feel both worth and acceptance of myself, I just didn't. This was evidenced in my behavior to seek approval and acceptance from others, not being able to provide that for myself.

I recall getting indignant with myself, and saying with gritted teeth that I would do whatever needed to be done to get to that place. I was willing to expose and feel whatever was hidden in those recesses of my heart and mind in order to obtain the peace and serenity I longed for. I also remember saying that I knew this would take all of my will, strength, courage, and faith to stay on this path. In comparison, the work of weight loss would be like “a walk in the park”.  I had always equated my weight loss journey as the most challenging thing in my life, and in many ways it is because at the heart of weight loss is the reason why I have overeaten, mindlessly eaten, and eaten whatever I wanted regardless of its nutritional value. Hence, it is an important area of my addictive behaviors that has needed healing. I’m pretty sure I started turning to food for comfort at age three; that's pretty core stuff.

As I've shared in recent posts, I have gotten my miracle and experienced an amazing spiritual awakening (reference step twelve)! I feel God’s love for me in a such an encompassing way that it permeates into my very soul, filling me with acceptance, self-love, resulting in self-esteem. Everything shifted when that miracle happened (February 15, btw). Everything. I am not consumed with dating or men or my future. I don't need to perform or seek approval because I have it already. I don't need others to esteem me because I esteem myself. Having accepted myself just as I am, I have returned to the weight loss issues with a different sense of self. Instead of despair, desperation, guilt, or shame prompting me to lose weight, it is self-love. Because I love myself, I have been able to ask myself what I really want.  I can be honest and acknowledge that my whole self wants a health in all areas, including my body. So on March 5, I said, “it’s time for a walk in the park.” I started a 23-day somewhat radical weight loss plan, laid down the cigarette smoking once again (but with compassion for myself), and said a prayer asking God for help.

Mostly, it has been a steadfast effort of planning and acceptance of my limited choices. I've had some withdrawal issues, and some of the emotions that I have stuffed or puffed “away” (buried) have surfaced. I have not felt deprived or resentful or a victim, though. I am aware of my choices and I am just working on maintaining the course ahead of me. The joy of my new found acceptance and love has been sustaining me, mostly. There are struggles, but compared to previous efforts and compared to the recovery work I've been doing…it is like a walk in the park!

Today, I went to Tubac with family and friends. We shopped a bit, and I found different items at shops that I was tempted to buy. Each time, I got this prompting to put the items back on the shelf as there just might be something at the next shop.  There is a wonderful boutique called “Lily’s” that my mother really wanted to see. I could see why when I went inside. There were a lot of things that caught my eye, but I became suddenly drawn to a painting behind the counter. I soon learned the story behind the painting. It is of a stream and a walkway from a park in Kansas City. Having grown up in Iowa, I especially appreciated the familiar beauty in the picture. The artist, Lyle Collister, told me that she would take walks there as a child with her father and that she had such fond memories of that. The original name of the painting was Paradise, but she had renamed it A Walk in the Park. Imagine that. 

It became clear to me that this painting was for me. I knew my God, whom I call Father, was telling me that we were on this “walk in the park” together and that I was not alone during my journey (including my renewed commitment to weight loss; I have lost 70 pounds and want to lose 80 more).  I find peace and serenity in this picture, and it represents a safe place for me. It’s not only the picture itself, but the story behind the picture, and how the details came together for my edification and blessing. It is a reminder of His love for me by showing me in such personal ways that He is real and caring. I have shared this story a few times today; I tear up every time. I sit here as I finish this post and I am in amazement, humility, and peace.  My thought tonight is that I shall pull over to the side of the Lane to take time to appreciate, to soak in this love and feel that connection with the One Who Loves Me. 

A Walk in the Park by Lyle Collister