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. 

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. 

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.

My Vision Revisited

Today marks the one year anniversary of The Healing Lane. At the urging of my friends and therapist, I decided to start a blog about my recovery. This is my 60^th post and I am grateful to have this forum to share my thoughts, to journal my story, and to chronicle my recovery. There is something very therapeutic for me in writing this blog. I have often felt the nervousness from being so vulnerable in spite of my willingness to be open and honest about this struggle. I appreciate the comments from friends and followers about the blog, with appreciation for sharing with me when it has provided insight, understanding, or even humor.

Today’s gift came this morning when I got the thought to think of my little Sara as an adult. I felt that God was showing me how to grow this image of myself as this precious little girl into what I would want for her if she were my own daughter. He was asking me to start envisioning what preciousness looks like at age 25, 35, or even 50. This exercise has me considering the potential for redirecting my own energies about myself. In particular, I believe He is showing me how to re-frame the feelings about myself that are buried deep within, yet are powerfully and negatively impacting me.

This inner child work is difficult for me. Debra has been giving me exercises that involve working with the thoughts and feelings of a very young me. We call her little Sara. There is a well of sadness and silence, encasing the depth of her wanting to be accepted, loved, approved, and seen. The adorable blonde, curly-haired, blue-eyed little angel covered up so much of her authentic self in an effort to be loved as she understood it. She took on the adult thoughts around her, suppressing her own childhood desires and I believe without a lot of signs to indicate the coping behavior. She was agreeable, dependable, responsible, happy, and to most adults, the dream child. And she was rewarded for all this good behavior. So what was missing? Temper tantrums and expressions of her needs. I am starting to understand that she didn't want to have needs. She didn't know how to voice wanting them met, and the guilt and shame for having them has permeated her for 40 some odd years. There is no blame; there isn’t any anger about this. I am learning to accept and understand that of no intention, this was how I adapted my behaviors to get the approval, love, and attention I desired. And if I didn't have a boatload of addictive behaviors indicating something is amiss, I wouldn't be dealing with this today. 

This little girl loved life and she was mostly happy. In part, she was loved because she did behave so very well. She didn’t get all she needed, but she got a lot. There are gifts to draw upon. There is strength to muster. There is love to receive and to give. The story continues because I have not given up on her story, which of course is me today. I want to get to the heart and soul of why I do things that are not in my best overall healthy interest.  Like for instance...the marked question that set me on this path..."why did I tolerate the intolerable for 24 years?" 

So when God asked me about my little Sara, there is quite a context of work I’ve been doing in learning to love her, love me, and overcome the pain of today.  What would I want for my little Sara when I see her as an adult? What is the vision I have for little Sara as a fully functioning adult Sara – forgetting that little Sara is now the big Sara of today. Let’s just say I am able to start over…what would I envision her to be like?

Most importantly, I would want her to feel loved. My guess is that we all want that for our children. So of COURSE I want her to know love for herself and from others. I would want her to experience the joy of living and giving. I would want her to feel empowered and enriched by the experiences in and through her environment. I would want her to feel comfortable in her own skin – to accept the flaws, strengths, gifts, warts, beauty, personality, assets, shortcomings, and imperfections that make her who she is. I would want her to know her worth and to make her mark in this world. I want her to ultimately fulfill her purpose in life – the reason God brought her into this world. I would not want her to allow others’ opinions of her to negatively affect her opinion of herself.  I envision confidence, joy, love, peace, acceptance, authentic living. Yes, most definitely, I envision her loving herself and others, and being loved.

To realize that this is what my own mother has wanted for me too is very important. She continues to pray for these very kinds of things, and is willing to do whatever she can to help see this come to pass in my life (and hers). The precious little Sara that I hold in my heart is the Sara that she birthed, held in her arms, and desired for all good and wonderful things to come to her. I have come to understand that those deep needs that still exist from my childhood are  my opportunities. I am able to parent myself and co-parent with God to meet those needs.  

I am starting to grasp that even greater than my own vision or even my mother’s vision for me, is God’s vision for me. How He sees me, how He loves me, and how He is working on my behalf is the real key to acceptance and healing. My spiritual lesson is to receive that.  My battle is to combat the thoughts, feelings, and behaviors that go AGAINST this truth.  To continue in the negative images and beliefs is the crux of my unmanageability. It leads me down paths of destruction and pain.

This blog is The Healing Lane. It is about revisiting the past for restoration and redemption. I have gratitude today. It is a cruising day as I often call them, for the recognition of my progress – not perfection – and for where I'm headed. That's the Vision Revisited. 

My View from the Shadows

There is a consistent theme to my recovery meditations and feedback this week: assess your progress.  On several occasions I have been asked to think on my life a year ago and then reflect on where I am today. That is Higher Power speaking to me without question. It is time to get current. I recognize that I have not posted on this blog for three months and I must admit I have some guilt over that. It doesn't feel good. This blog is an important tool for my recovery and not using it has not been to my benefit. That in itself isn't very Healing Lane behavior.

The last three months have presented challenges so very different that the previous fifteen when I have been able to describe the pace and feel of clipping along in The Lane. The growth pains, the awareness, the breakthroughs, the new perspectives, and so forth have all been a very real and tangible part of my recovery. I have been able to reflect with honesty and vulnerability my experiences.  Through the ups and downs, I managed to find myself back to that current within the Healing Lane. And then came November.

I wouldn't say today that I left the Lane. However, it feels completely different. I have been looking for the obvious signs of recovery; the obvious feelings of recovering. My biggest struggle was indeed not feeling that I was making progress. There has been a lack of tangible evidence, or so I thought. I likened it to a weight-loss plateau. I have felt a wall, a ceiling, being stagnant.  Meanwhile, some unhealthy behaviors returned. This part isn't’t easy for me, but my commitment to be honest requires that I put this out there. I returned to smoking; I began eating some foods that I normally don’t eat; and I found myself numbing in different ways such as computer games and shopping. However, in my disclosure I will acknowledge that I also finished my weaning of the anti-depressant I’d been taking for 9 ½ years. I began attending additional meetings to help me address my love addiction. I had some on-going neck and back issues (noted correlation) and a cold that lasted for a month. There were holidays and travels and perhaps worth noting, my divorce was finalized.

Wouldn't it be nice if we could easily package up our thoughts, feelings, issues and just plot out our recovery plan? It doesn't work that way. Life just doesn't work that way. And really…when it is all said and done, I don’t think I would want to be so prepared anyway. The unknown is certainly frightening. “What next?!” But it has some appealing aspects, too. If I knew everything that needed to happen, when it should happen, and how to handle it…well, first I’d have some sort of insider deal with God and secondly, I likely wouldn't need all this recovery anyway. Heck, I’d have insight that I currently don’t have and I could use it for all sorts of good. No, the appealing aspect of the unknown is that God has all kinds of ways to teach me how to handle things, and to show me His love for me by handling the things I don’t need to handle. Serenity prayer comes to mind.

Yes, it is pretty much summed up in that prayer. Learning what are the things I am to change, what things are not mine, and the wisdom to know the difference. The important lesson for me is that I am not in charge! I am (still) powerless to the things that belong to God and when I try to behave otherwise my life starts to become unmanageable. The resistance to all that has been going on with me is that I wanted to be in charge. I wanted to feel like I was making progress. I wanted to see improvement and what I eventually began to understand, is that I was trying to earn my own worthiness by doing my recovery “well”. No wonder I wasn't feeling so serene.

During this time I have been wrestling with a lot of old, defeating tapes playing while still holding onto the awareness I've obtained this far and utilizing the tools of recovery available to me. The sense of failure has been a big one. Shame spirals do not promote healing, and I have had to consistently confess that I have allowed negative thoughts to bounce around in my head. The hope I share is that I recognize that I was wrestling – I did not give up, not forfeit, not throw in the towel. I remained in the battle. That recognition and affirmation of my efforts is a very significant change. I can’t wrap it up and present it as nicely or clearly as some of my other lessons and breakthroughs. But it is a biggie. It is the change I have sought.

So it comes back to the basics. Acceptance. Let go and let God. Gratitude. Progress not perfection. I am so thankful for today and for taking the time to reflect on the view from the Lane. It has felt obscured, but sometimes it is shadowy and not quite so scenic. Yet, I recognize, it is still part of the journey and down the Lane I go.

Choose Wisely

My recovery week in review…Monday I mustered the courage to face my love addiction by going to a twelve step meeting (followed by an emotional reaction), Tuesday was the airing of the story on EMDR (a lot of compliments for my "daring greatly" efforts), Wednesday was final divorce mediation (good work in getting this done finally, but painful nevertheless), Thursday brought group therapy, step study, a twelve step meeting (let’s just say it was quite a day), Friday was yet another twelve step meeting.  I have exhibited  a lot of vulnerability this week. Perhaps tonight I’m feeling the effects of that. Brené Brown refers to it as the “vulnerability hangover.”  It seems to becoming standard requirement for me these days.  The main point of this for me, is that I am showing up for myself. I am taking risks, showing courage, and heading full-on toward healing and wholeness.

I ask myself, what will that look like anyway? What does wholeness mean? Will I know it when I get there? Do I ever get there? I know for certain that I’m not there now. I still feel broken. I still feel shame for many things, but tonight I am most aware of the feeling of shame for having emotional needs, of asking for those needs to be met, heck, for even wanting to have those needs met. I acknowledge that it sounds absurd, but when I honestly assess my beliefs, there they are, horrifically staring at me; it sounds rather pathetic actually. I say this because I would never deny that my son needs to be loved, to be held, to be cherished. He most certainly has emotional needs, and as his mother I did my best to meet them when he was in my care. Why then, do I feel guilty and shameful for having those same needs? Yes, there is some work still. Old tapes are the worst, aren’t they? They become so ingrained within that it is work to get them changed, or more appropriately to create new ones.

Erma and I talked about the notion of stopping such tapes. Then she suggested that we hit the play button of the NEW tapes. What I think is the best metaphor is to hit the “skip” button. I can’t really help or control that the track of negative beliefs begin, but I can decide whether I will allow it to play in its entirety or to hit the repeat track over and over. Recovery has taught me that I have choices including what to do about my thoughts. I can combat this negativity with some commitment. Those thoughts can be rather sneaky, and I sometimes find myself having entertained a whole series of negative thoughts before my awareness kicks in that I have been in that zone for awhile. The gentle and loving thing I want to do is simply shift my thinking from harm to love. Whew! Easier said than done! This is one reason I write…to put to paper my intentions, to go from wishful to willful. It is not merely about wishing to be different but the willingness and intention to make things different. I choose to shift my unhealthy thoughts to affirming, positive ones.

Ultimately, I see that I have a choice on what to do about my compulsive behaviors. I am still challenged by the thought of being powerless in this addiction (step one) but I do have a choice as to whether I look at this love addiction or just deny/minimize its effects. I choose to seek healing by attending twelve step meetings; it is intentional, difficult; and doable. I see my choice to be a part of the EMDR story and my intention to share my experience so that others may benefit as well.  It was my choice to go to mediation for my divorce, to be considerate and caring through the process and most definitely to not be vengeful, resentful, or harmful. Most notably, I see it is my intention to keep showing up for myself; to see myself beyond the current situation, the current pain and exhaustion from battling the unhealthy thoughts and behaviors. One of the best gifts of twelve step programs is seeing the sober living of those who have gone before me and to see the joy and peace in them.   

The therapy work I have done this past year has really paid off. I continue down The Healing Lane with those tools and the awareness which are invaluable to me as I renew my intention of recovery. I choose health; I choose healing; I choose living and giving. Yes, I shall simply “skip” the  shame tape that keeps wanting to play in its entirety and move to playing the “I am worthy, loveable, and precious” track.  I can hit repeat on that one.

My EMDR Story on PBS

When I started down the Healing Lane many months ago, I had no idea of what I was really embarking upon. After all, how could I? I had spent years on the Road of Dis-Ease, causing physical and emotional harm by trying to numb away the pain that was mounting within me. But as I have shared numerous times, I set out to change things - to redeem my life from the snares of a slow death.  It was into my second year on this path that I actually called it "The Healing Lane" because I had the life-changing events of July 2012, and I wanted to move into a new season and out of the one I had spent in for far too long. 

Part of my therapy has included EMDR or Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing. This has been a very significant part of my healing. I was interviewed in August for a story on Arizona Illustrated Science (PBS series) regarding EMDR therapy. The story aired last night; it is about 6 1/2 minutes of the half hour program. I've gotten good feedback, including very complimentary remarks from Debra (who is the authority and clinician in the story). 

Seeing myself on air -- wrinkles, weight, moles and all -- was a bit difficult. Who really likes to see that much of oneself up close and personal?! I knew I would struggle with this when I agreed to do the story. I put my best face forward and decided it was worth the risk anyway. I am pleased, despite it requiring my working through my self-critique not only of my appearance but what and how I actually communicated. That is just part of putting myself in the public eye, so I'm letting go of a lot of my negative talk, accepting that I did the best I knew and could do. I forget those little quirky things I do, but are rather accepted standard behavior by those who know me. I repeat, "I yam what I yam."  Yes, Sara, keep reminding yourself: Acceptance.  

The story is one of four on the general topic of vision/visual interests; the EMDR piece was the last one aired,  but it was the best story in my opinion! The link below takes you to that segment.

https://originals.azpm.org/p/azill-science/2013/10/22/27872-controversial-treatment-eases-trauma-raises-questions/. 

You will see a written version;  click the play arrow on the picture of me if you want to watch the video. There I go again...I just keep putting myself out there! I guess daring greatly and having a willingness to take risks really are a part of my healing as I work my way along The Healing Lane, with my sights on wholeness, awareness, and forgiveness. Sometimes I'm stumbling along, sometimes drifting, mostly at a steady and devoted pace, but occasionally, sprinting.  I like the thought of being a runner, even if at this point it is only metaphorically speaking. I got the shoes, the matching outfit, and the headband . Incidentally, the headband reads "Never Give Up".  

So That’s a Containment Boundary!

I have believed for most of my life that “I am too much.” This was told to me when I was younger, and more directly as a teen, and then frequently by my soon-to-be-ex-husband. I suppose that the term “too much” applies to a lot of things. I took it to mean, that I – my being, my soul, my needs, my personality, me-being-me – was too much for people to like, and therefor to be loved I needed to just scale back. Essentially, I couldn't be the all-out “me” and be loved.

I have been addressing this belief, and had some significant breakthroughs in this area. I’m glad to say that I am embracing the idea that I am OK, and that indeed I am not too much. That I am OK the way I was created to be; that my high-spirited, live-out-loud, expressive, sensual, emotional, analytical self is just who I am. In my quest to be authentic and genuinely the person God created me to be, I am finally accepting that there is a reason that I am made the way I am.

Today it occurred to me that what is really meant by “too much” isn't that there is something wrong with me – implying I am defective, eliciting shame – but that some of my behavior relates more to a containment boundary. If I am behaving loudly, for instance, and someone asks me to tone it down, it just means that my behavior may be offensive or that my behavior is undesirable. I am not undesirable or unlovable. My tendency to wear my heart on my sleeve – that is to be expressly emotional with my feelings – is uncomfortable for some people. In these cases, my way of behaving may be “too much” for them. I can accept that this is not about me, but about them. I can accept that some like it one way and some like it another. I do not have to “change” in order to be loved. I can choose whether I want to contain my behaviors in order to respect the boundaries of others. That is my choice, and it is about loving myself and accepting that I am the way I am. However, I can love others by containing my behavior which does affect others. 

Containment is about recognizing my choices. I may choose to respect another’s request or boundaries by modifying my behavior. Not because I am defective, but because of my desire to be loving and respectful. A request doesn't mean I have to honor it; it doesn't mean that I am unworthy, unlovable, broken, or any of the shame labels I have given myself in the past. A request is simply that: a request. A judgment, preference, or indifference over behavior is not equal to judging, preferring, or rejecting the person. This realization is a rather significant “a-ha” moment for me because I haven’t gotten this until now! Out of respect for myself and/or others I may choose to remove myself rather than contain myself in a way that is disingenuous or feels unauthentic. This is a perfectly reasonable option. That just occurred to me! It is simply another choice.

Telling me “You’re too much” was translated to “I’m not right; I’m not good enough; I can’t be loved the way I am, so in order to be loved I must change who I am.” Just how does one go about changing who we are anyway? My solution was to hide, to minimize my needs and the pain of feeling rejected, to turn on myself by believing I was defective, to medicate, and ultimately not be the “real me” to the world. Oh, there were glimpses, there were times when my inhibitions were let loose. There were those people that embraced my larger-than-life ways. Thank God for those times. Thank God for those people who loved me in spite of myself. But over time, by-and-large, I just became less and less of myself -- essentially shrinking on the inside, while getting larger and larger on the outside.

Fifteen months into therapy and recovery, and I’m seeing some Healing Lane victory laps! It is still such a day-to-day challenge. I feel up one and down the next. It seems there is no shortage of issues to address, emotions to reconcile, issues to process. Ah, but isn't that always the case? I’m still rather new at this, but I’m starting to flow in this whole “awareness” thing. I’m starting to figure this out on my own, or so I hope. This containment revelation is so new (I did say "today" by the way) it hasn't passed the Debra session yet. It appears I’m getting rather confident in myself.  Whew! That says a lot in and of itself! With that, it sounds like I’m tooting my own horn, which is of course, while cruising along, windows down, enjoying the ride through The Healing Lane. Today has been a great day! Full moon Saturday night, here I am (too much, ya think?)!! 

More on My Blasted Compulsive Behavior

I have not hidden my struggle with my addictions that are embroiled within the codependent behavior for which I am in recovery. This month, culminating this week in a look-myself-squarely-in-the-face reality check, I have been dealing with love addiction. I acknowledge that my overwhelming thoughts on this are along the lines of "Really? More compulsivity to address? Can't I just be done with this? Is there no end to the ways I find myself thinking and acting compulsively?"

I have a history toward the obsessive side most notedly regarding food and cigarettes. I also tend to use spending, given the chance, and I can see the lure in drinking and gambling. I recognize the addictive behavior and how it just shifts from one vice to another. It is all about that chemical fix to relieve the pain and obtain that momentary high. Oh, that blasted coping skill! 

I have learned that in addition to the aforementioned, I also get a buzz from the attention and newness of a relationship. Now that I am facing singleness and  beginning a new chapter in my life, the old patterns have surfaced. Wouldn't you know it, so has the addiction. I have been slightly dismissive of the knowledge that I am a love addict. It has been the topic of many a session with Debra, yet it didn't seem to be having much of an effect on me, or so I thought. I was, afterall, working heartily at overcoming the food and cigarette fix and doing my Twelve-Steps on co-dependency. I really did not embrace wanting to take on more. Debra had recommended some readings on this topic, however, and I appreciate Pia Mellody's work, Facing Love Addiction. The insight gained is so very valuable. Knowledge, it seems in and of itself, though, does not replace the need to confront and overcome the compulsive behavior. If that is all it took, I would not be struggling. And struggling I have been.

I'm writing here to reflect and share my recent experience. I do this as part of my efforts to stay in, or in this case return to, The Healing Lane. I acknowledge that with the recent high of feeling the connection (real or imagined) followed by the painful low of facing the reality of what I have been doing has prompted a temporary departure from The Lane. The unhealthy behavior has included nurturing a flood of thoughts and emotions in-congruent with the development of the relationship, hence imagining a relationship that is not yet a coupleship. It has included an onslaught of my texting without response; the imagined reciprocated feelings; what my dear friend refers to as "making a cake out of the crumbs I've been given." Even when I began seeing myself engaging in this, I didn't want to stop myself. 

Fortunately, I'm getting used to recognizing when I'm in that compulsive mindset, and that it leads to disaster. I commend myself for confronting the behavior before it got completely out-of-hand (I recognize that this is a relative statement, so out-of-hand by my standards). Although I avoided a head-on collision from my Lane departure, it brought with it shame and guilt. Those residues are lingering yet today. 

I am getting much better at resisting the urge to not act out in food or smoking, but the desire to do so still surfaces far too often. I want to remain humbled and to not take my sobriety for granted. Which is why I share this latest trial here - my on-line journal. I never know if my experiences resonate with others or not. My desire is that by being open, I provide an opportunity for discovery. Debra gave me the nicest compliment today along those lines; and that is being authentic is the most sincere form of vulnerability that one can exhibit. I have chosen to stay in the fight; the fight for my health, serenity, and relationships. I renew my commitment to dare greatly by sharing my struggles. The arena is a place that one gets knocked around. So it seems fitting.

Bottom line - when I am in my addict mode, I am not authentic. I am hiding, medicating, seeking relief, avoiding, ... which is not genuine nor authentic. Being authentic and vulnerable is all about The Healing Lane, and I know that is where I want to be. 

Twenty-five Years

I am sitting here, the evening before my 25^th wedding anniversary, and can’t help but feel that I have been cheated out of the dream I had when I stood before the 200+ guests at my wedding. Part of that dream was celebrating my silver wedding anniversary. That is the time when life is supposed to start getting easier, having proven the testing of love and raised the children. In my marriage, we had talked of celebrating with a long-anticipated trip. Instead, we are in the midst of mediating our divorce and closing the books on 25 years of marriage. There is no celebration.

I am angry at not having a marriage that could endure and survive the trials of betrayal and addiction. I am painfully sad that I am now alone and facing this new season as a single person, just when I was preparing for the opportunities that open up when there are no children at home. And now with singleness I am fearful that I do not have the resources to maintain my current lifestyle. Yes, there is an absence of joy. It is a time to grieve my loss and to feel and express these emotions. Divorce is difficult, painful, death, and loss.

I wrestle with reconciling that indeed all these things are valid, and yet, I will still press onward and hold onto the new dream that this next season offers hope beyond what today’s feelings hold. They can co-exist. The devastation of divorce does not last forever. It will not always be this painful, but today it just is. I realize it isn’t missing the person as much as allowing the death of the dream of growing old together; of being together until death do us part. I hadn’t realized that the death that do us part was the death of the marriage. My friend Erma reminded me that although the marriage failed, neither of us are failures. Sometimes it still feels like that, though. This is why I keep pressing onward in The Healing Lane. I have needed to accept that I alone cannot save a marriage. I alone am not responsible for making the marriage work. I alone am not responsible for the success or failure of it.

Sometimes being in The Lane is about acknowledging that I am powerless over the circumstances, yet have complete control over how I handle it. Handling it doesn’t imply that I have to do it perfectly or with a smile or without help. Staying in The Lane can simply be done by being honest and authentic with myself and my emotions and thoughts as they become apparent to me. I am doing just that, partially by sharing them here. It still is my 25^th wedding anniversary whether it is celebrated or not; I need to acknowledge that.

Sometimes it’s the Simple Things

I got a new car a couple of years ago and the key is much larger than those I had used previously. I didn't incorporate the key into my grouping of other keys, which included office keys, home keys, other car keys, and what I've come to realize recently, some keys to which I no longer use. So I've had two sets of keys to juggle: my car keys and my other keys. Yesterday I decided to move my office key and house key from the collection of miscellaneous keys and store fobs to the key ring with my car key. This simple little change has made my life so much easier! Go figure…for nearly two years I have been balancing two sets of keys along with the purse, water bottle, coffee/tea, computer bag, gym bag, food bag, meeting bag(s), and whatever else might be needed. I might be known for having an assortment of bags with me wherever I go.

I’m almost amused, although I’m still in a bit of disbelief that it has taken me so long to take action, that this one simple, less-than-a-minute task could make my life so much easier. I can’t help but chuckle at this image of me balancing all this stuff (ok, I don’t take all of that stuff every day – it is just an example of the many different things I may have) and also the juggling two sets of keys! It is rather absurd when I think about it.

This couldn't be a better metaphor of life in general, could it?! I have a lot of stuff I am toting around. My recovery bag, my nutrition bag, my work bag, my service bag, my family bag, my divorce bag, and the looming household bag.  Yet there I am trying to juggle not two sets of keys, but several sets! There are simple tasks that I could be doing to make my life easier. I am talking the super simple tasks. This is in both the physical realm and emotional realm. I am thinking about the few second efforts to put things away, removing the stuff from my car each night, and tossing out the junk mail the day it arrives. I acknowledge the simple things I am already doing, and so it is not a stretch to add a few more. In fact it could become rather habit forming, almost an application of self-care. 

There are emotional tasks that are simple as well, and yet have the same accumulative effect on me if gone unmonitored and allowed to build. What comes to mind is what I've been learning by allowing a feeling to pass through me. Surprising enough, even some of the most intense feelings last just 30-90 seconds if I just let them pass. Sometimes the simple thing is just to give over the thought and the emotional feeling with it to God – hence, release it. I can also write down the thought or feeling and put it into the God Box, which is to say that I am releasing it completely to God. Or acknowledge it in a journal, send a text, speak to myself or someone else. It is as if those emotional bags just get more and more cumbersome if I don't do some simple releasing. 

Simple tasks, simple lesson, and simply amazing how one key ring can make an impact. It shall remain my reminder that simple things can make a big difference. 

Loneliness, Being Alone, Isolation, Withdrawal, Solitude…NOT the Same Thing!

It seems like the last few months I have been on hyper-speed. It has been a bit of work to maintain lane control while so many things have been surfacing, yet there have been monumental breakthroughs. This last weekend, though, an amazing thing happened. The Lane took a turn and unbeknownst to me, a whole new scene appeared and I got to witness such magnificent beauty! The Healing Lane offered absolutely breathtaking views. The views were from within, and they were of me.

I decided to recognize my one year anniversary of being in recovery and the many efforts I've made by attending a workshop. I gave myself this reward. I went to Scottsdale to the Franciscan Renewal Center to be a participant in REAC²H (Restoring Embodied Awareness, Compassion, Connection, and Hope) which is a workshop on mindfulness led by Dr. Jon Caldwell. It was one of those times when God was at work orchestrating what I needed because it couldn't have been a better fit for me right now. I couldn't have scripted it better if I was in charge.

Let me first provide a context. Just a few weeks ago I was struggling with my compulsive urges – wanting to eat, smoke, drink, and spend – and was frustrated with myself. Debra suggested that I spend some time alone allowing myself to “just be”.  Let the thoughts come in, thoughts go out. Feelings in, feelings out. No food, drink, music, journal, or other distraction was to accompany my solitude. Me. Just be with me. She had noted my anxiety about being alone and wondered if I had really allowed myself to feel the loneliness. Her talking about it brought on anxiety. Not a loner. Never have been. So she recommended 10 minutes in a comfortable chair. She acknowledged that I might not make 10 minutes at first. I referred to this exercise as “the loneliness exercise”. I had forgotten that she spoke of mindfulness. My mind had been hijacked with the thought of being alone.

That night I moved right into the assignment, ready to face this fear of feeling and being alone. I settled into my patio chair, noting the time of 8:30pm, My thoughts began... “I’m good to go. Not bad…oh, look at the beautiful mountain. And isn't it rather serene out here…but awfully quiet. And alone. Oh, so alone.” The tears start to flow, increasing in intensity and amount. After a bit of that, I think, that should possibly do it. So I check the time: 8:31pm. I exaggerate not. That is being uncomfortable with myself, and that has been present for most parts of my life. I persevered for three more cycles of the being ok, crying, and then comforting. I did survive for 10 minutes, but I did not enjoy that exercise even those the awareness of this was a gift in itself. That experience was just a little over a month ago.

This past weekend I spent a lot of alone time. I stayed at the Renewal Center by myself. No TV, by the way. I went to a movie with myself. I also learned mindful meditation and the gift of solitude. I found that I can show myself some compassion. I discovered that I am not only ok with myself but that I am actually becoming comfortable in my own skin! On the last day, I wrote “I feel like I have found a new friend in myself.” I put this kind of transformation in the miracle department. That void I have wanted to fill isn't so empty. The me I’d been avoiding is now being welcomed…by me!

I suppose in a lot of ways, this is what I've been seeking all year. I’m not only showing fully function adult behavior but I’m learning my own worthiness and lovability. This change that had been in the works recently hadn't been quite recognized since I’d been so accustomed to my disdain for my failures, my body, and the thoughts that seemed to betray me. However, there were signs…the day before I left for the workshop I had written, “I feel like a bud ready to blossom.” God was indeed at work. That alone was a huge breakthrough! I have not only bloomed, but I can smell the fragrance of the blossom and see that it is beautiful. Now that is some recovery! I can hardly believe I’m even writing this, which is a good reason for me to do just that.

I've contemplated whether I should share this. It seems a little over-the-top and a departure from my usual sharing. I thought on this some more, including the reasons why I write this blog (for insight, reflection, and to chronicle my recovery journey). I endeavor to be authentic and genuine. This posting requires my being just as vulnerable, to dare greatly, and to feel just as deeply as I do when it is raw pain, guilt, shame, or anger. In some ways, I feel even more vulnerable because there seems to be an expectation about sharing the victories and the high notes. Perhaps it has been my exposure to the cynicism of those who are judgmental of those in healthy and happy spaces.  That cynicism, however, I can finally say is not about me. This blog is about me, The Healing Lane, and my journey, which has been a true joy ride this past week. 

Is that Some More Anger?

During my drive to work today I was doing a feelings check because I knew I was in a different place. I could identify sadness and both emotional and physical pain (I had a nasty fall last night) but there was more to it than that. And then I realized it: I felt anger. Anger? Really? That is different for me…to actually realize I had some anger? I wasn't sure about what and maybe it doesn't even matter. The breakthrough is that I recognized it and I didn't go about ignoring it. I knew I wanted to express it so I did what I know to do: I bought a bag of ice and planned some ice therapy.

It was an additional hour before I actually went about executing my call to ice throwing. I kind of let the feelings soak for a bit. The odd part is that I don’t have any specific memory or reason, but I’m just angry.  My anger feelings are so intertwined with pain and crying, I often have a lot of tears with my anger. Not today. I can feel the tears just below the surface – but this is for all the anger that hasn't been expressed and for the woman that stuffed her anger with food or smoked away her pain or sought out opportunities to avoid her reality. I believe today a lot of this anger is for the Sara of today – not just little Sara who didn't have a voice. It is for the voice of the present.

Throwing ice is the perfect anger release for me. Ice is hard and when it shatters it provides a certain kind of satisfaction quite suitable for anger release. It is also cold bringing an additional sensation to my body, and finally, there is no clean up (a big appeal). I've found that throwing the ice downward is the most rewarding. Today I used two hands and I gave it the full body throw. I’m just a step away from it counting as a workout, but it does count as temper tantrum (something that has been recommended to me in therapy).  I tried something else today. I took the end of the bag of ice and just pounded it against the wall.  I've had some difficulty with hitting or stomping, so this is another great advancement for me. Wow did that feel good. I see more of that in my future.

Now to the anger – the interesting part is I that I had no words.  Maybe they will come to me later today. I’m just angry. I don’t want to be going through this divorce, but I don’t want to be married to the addict either. I just want it to be over. I don’t want to be alone, but I want to be adult and responsible which requires my facing this separation anxiety (loneliness) and accepting that being alone is adult behavior. I don’t’ want to be fat, but it is work changing a lifetime of eating patterns and dealing with a body that has been negatively overworked for so long and is not healthy. Writing this down and reading it sounds like a pity party which makes me even madder! I believe it is more than just self-pity, though, it is facing the powerlessness of my past – that I can’t go back and change things.  I can only move forward.  I’m angry about being in this place when I have tried so hard to do the right things in my life. I don’t want to be in this place any longer. I’m stuck between my past and my future and it sucks. Well, for right now, at least. 

This moving forward takes a lot of effort.  I keep thinking it will ease up. There are days when I want to retreat. And by that, I mean self-indulge. And that means medicating which is also acting out. If not that, then isolate. All of these are about turning inward and a big departure from the Healing Lane.  I have made deliberate efforts to stay IN The Lane, so I have held to the vision of being healthy and adult. I remind myself of The Promises and rewards. It helps. I remind myself of my worth and what it will feel like to be on the other side. That requires me to stay in the present and to accept that it is what it is. I have choices, and I choose to keep pressing onward, and to stay in the Healing Lane.

So throwing some ice may not sound like much, but it is for me. It has kept me in The Lane and I’ve honored myself by expressing my feelings and given them a voice. 

A Full Perspective: The Recovery Lens

Perspective is an interesting meditation for me today. I have my high school best friend visiting me this week. Of course we are reminiscing and recalling events from our earlier lives. It has been good for me to remember what I was like in those pre-marriage days. Hearing her perspective has been helpful and interesting. Seeing my reflection in her eyes has given me some added dimension to my recovery. I find myself saying things like “Really? You saw me that way?” or “I don’t remember doing that!” Having her mirror me this way has surfaced a lot of memories and thoughts about myself. What a gift. I am so thankful.

However, this post is about perspective. I got to thinking about the different lens’ I have worn through the years. As a very young child, I imagine I mostly reflected what was modeled so maybe that could be called the parents lens. As I sought love and attention, I created a coping lens. Both of those were about looking at my life in the present at that time. I have likely brought some of those images with me into adulthood. When my dad was in his anger and rage phase, I had the victim lens. All problems were blamed on his anger. As I grew into a young adult, I focused on what I could be or do – with hope and optimism.

As an adult, the lens I use is how I view my past as well as the present. In retrospect, I moved from the victim lens to the “I’ll do it differently” lens. This is that “now that I’m an adult, I will do it my way and certainly not how my parents did things.” That lens shows some independence but also the shallowness of my one-sided thinking typical of the immaturity of that age. Later on, the lens that served me well over the years was the Pollyanna lens. That has been helpful to move from victim and martyr to optimism and thankfulness. That lens minimizes some of the pain and unresolved trauma, though, and it was the lens that I wore in looking at my childhood when entering therapy. Removing that lens was work.

This last year I got a new lens. Let’s just call it the recovery lens. It is the most diverse and magical lens. It has the ability to adapt and it has special filters. When needed, the focus is on family of origin. At other times, it is on the child within, or on setting and upholding boundaries. It has been needed to block out the Pollyanna stuff so that I can see how an issue has affected my behavior and not be confused with other issues or events. Having a filter hasn't been the easiest way to see life. Sometimes it seems one-dimensional since I have not been used to focusing on one part or layer of the picture, or one aspect of my life. It is kind of like suddenly seeing only blue tones. So I've been viewing blue tones, and at time just green tones, and others the red tones or purple tones, and those tough grey tones.  I have at times even applied a couple of tones at once.

Having my friend here has brought a new filter, shall we call them the yellow tones? Her perspective is raising some interesting questions I have for myself. It is causing me to dig a little deeper into my memory and recall some things that I buried or possibly just didn't ever consider. This filter is one I've not been able to do on my own because it is in her sharing her perspective as someone who knew me [well] at that time (and not a family member) that I have had my thoughts challenged a bit. I'm able now to start applying the other filters and an even truer image of my life.

I am ready to begin lifting the filters. It is good to see some of the depth and breadth and dimension to my life unfold after this last year of recovery. My ultimate desire is to have my perspective of my life be in full color! I don’t have to minimize or discount the pain and dysfunction, but I also appreciate and acknowledge the gifts and blessings that bring joy and gratitude. That is the beauty and value in this recovery lens; I can just apply the filter when I need it, and then lift it when I don't. There is such richness and clarity to seeing the whole picture now. I see details l missed before because of the appreciation and growth.

This lens is really going to help in creating The SaraCanvas! Now I'm prepping my brushes. Painting should commence soon. 

My Music Series: I Don’t Paint Myself into Corners Anymore

I selected this next song as a tribute to the awareness awakening in me. Trisha Yearwood has provided me with several songs for my playlist (including For a While, Gimme the Good Stuff, and Second Chance) but this one best represents the reality of dealing with my codependency and love addiction. That is what recovery is really about, isn't it?! When I stopped being consumed with the other side of the street or the victimization or martyrdom or whatever my co-dependent flavor of the season was but focused on the power of my actions and my choices and my reality – now that is making time in The Lane! This song provided me with something to sing while I mustered the will and energy to do just that.

I Don’t Paint Myself into Corners Anymore

Sung by Trisha Yearwood (By Rebecca Lynn Howard/Trey Bruce)

It took a while for me to see things as they were
In the light of truth
It wasn't you, it was me
I let myself get used to drowning in the hurt
Against the wall
Who'd of thought, it was me
From there I couldn't even look over my shoulder
I kicked down all the walls and started all over.

And I don't paint myself into corners anymore
In a brittle heart of clay
I threw my brushes away
The tools of the trade that chained your memory to me
Are out the door
I don't paint myself into corners anymore.

When you left you left me with no other choice at all
But to sink
To my knees, and cry
I never knew just how far a soul could fall
Like a rock
I couldn't stop, didn't try
I locked myself behind shades of misery
But when I let you go, I set myself free.

And I don't paint myself into corners anymore
In a brittle heart of clay
I threw my brushes away
The tools of the trade that chained your memory to me
Are out the door
I don't paint myself into corners anymore.

I haven’t addressed my love addiction with the same vigor as my co-dependency, but this song speaks directly to it. I think this song had that added appeal because I recognize that this is an issue of mine (staying in a troubled marriage for 24 years is a big indication).  Trisha sings this so powerfully by giving both the pain and strength that the lyrics express. I think this honesty is what beckons me to belt the tune out whenever it plays. That pain and strength are stirred within me and both demand to be expressed. Over these months I can say there has been a definite transition to more strength and less pain.  I think it is because I don’t paint myself into corners anymore!