Honesty

Warning: if anyone reading this post considers a certain level of emotional honesty to be unbearable oversharing, then you'd better leave now.











Okay. Here's a picture I painted a day or so ago. It reflects much of who I am right now.











And here's a snapshot of a plant I was given a day or so earlier. The sweet little poinsettia suffered a rude shock leaving the store and being carried to the car on a frightfully cold day. It barely survived those few moments of transition. This picture also reflects how I feel right now.











Over the past few years, I have found tremendous healing in acknowledging painful feelings. It's taken much hard work to find a balance between standing calmly in the feelings and allowing them light and air, versus wallowing in them and sometimes coming near to drowning.


I'm gonna see right now if I can move forward in one particular area of my life by bearing witness to some deep pain I'm feeling. This is not at all easy for me to do. Much shame attaches itself to these feelings. I hope that by being open here I can banish some of that shame.


My father dominated the first portion of my life. My husband put his mark on the next three and one-half decades. Another man affected the few years since the divorce.



My father was a pedophile and I was his six-year-old victim. There's no erasing what he did. But oh, how I wish he had chosen to repent of his actions and apologize to me before he died.


My husband and I each brought serious emotional baggage to our union, and then faced some sharp and painful experiences during the marriage. I used every resource at my disposal to save our marriage. I wish my husband had done the same. Maybe he would have still chosen to end our marriage, but maybe it would have been easier to live with. Easier to get over. Easier to move past. I wish he had not turned to other women during our marriage. I wish I had not been so easily replaced.


I met a man at the time of the divorce who was part of my life for the next three-plus years. He said often that he valued my faith, my sense of humor, my loyalty, my spirituality, my sensuality. Then one day, without warning, he dropped me. No contact at all. No explanation. Just silence. After several letters from me, he finally left a phone message saying he'd "met someone and was moving on with his life."


I am grateful beyond words for so many ways in which I have grown and matured over these past few years. I love my friends, my faith, my family, my home. And yet there remains a raw, ragged hole in my heart, created not just by the fact of these three failed relationships, but by how each of the three men chose to treat me.


I have had to be the one to end some relationships. In so doing, I summoned all the kindness and courage I could and tried to tell the person, gently, why I was doing what I was doing.


Breakups happen. I get that. And even though my particular faith experience fills me with confidence that "with God all things are possible," I also realize that some people do feel as if they have to give up. That the emotional mountain before them is just higher than they can climb.

But can't even giving up be done with some measure of grace? When you have tied yourself to another human being, and your giving up directly affects their life and stability, wouldn't it just be plain ordinary kindness to cushion the breaking up in any way possible?


For my dear friends who are reading this, please know that I am okay. Truly. I've made it this far and I sure as heck am not giving up now. My intimacy with my heavenly Father has grown deeper than I ever thought possible. My home is, bit by slow bit, experiencing a fresh and joyful transformation. Daily I ask God to show me ways I can reach out to others with compassion and kindness.


But my heart is healing far more slowly than I would wish for. I realize that the three men I have mentioned are only three--just a mere trio out of how many millions of men on the planet. But those three men have overshadowed every single year I've been alive on this earth. It isn't being single that is difficult. I'm adjusting to that. It's being left. Dumped. Cut off. Abandoned. Ignored. Forgotten. Unwanted. Replaced. Erased.

I know that each of these three men fought their own demons. They made bad choices. I just wish that even one of them had had the courage to take some measure of responsibility for how their choices affected other people, like me. I wish even one of them had cared enough to bandage the wounds they inflicted on me.




I'll close this post by sharing another floral friend. These geraniums lived outside one summer a few years ago until a hard frost threatened. I didn't mean to be rough, but I had to speed to get them out of the ground and inside, safe and warm. They responded by hanging on.

















They are gangly and not terribly attractive, but oh, they bloom with a fierce persistence. Look at them, and you see me.

Once Again, Ouch

Well, golly darn and gee whiz. I'm in Ouchland again. After my last post, I was intending for the next one to be upbeat. Jolly. Full of joy.

Oops. Didn't quite make it. That's why I put in this oh-so-lovely picture of the last bouquet of California poppies of the season. I'm trying to make myself smile. It's nearly impossible for me to be sad, when I look at these beauties.

Along with some hard work on my house, like ripping up carpet, moving heavy furniture . . . .

. . . and painting walls . . .

I'm also doing some renovation of the soul. Some reconstruction of the heart. And it's hard. I pricked my fingers on some carpet tacks earlier this evening. I can handle that. What really hurts is the follow-up email I just sent in which my bruised heart spoke.

In my half-century so far, I have not accumulated a very good track record with men. I do my best to give honesty and kindness, love and compassion. But so far, that sort of offering has pretty much backfired.

I won't give up. That's just not in me. But I do wish I could learn more of what I'm doing wrong.

In the meantime, I'll pull up some more nasty old carpet.

What are you working on in YOUR life?

Ouch

I searched through my photos for a shot I was sure I'd taken a week or so ago. My gorgeous sunflowers had finally given up their last blossoms. The tangled brown mess of naked stalks and empty seedheads spoke of the end of a luxuriant growing season.

I was gonna post that here, to mirror the way my heart feels right now. Empty. Blossomless. Unbeautiful. But I can't find it. Maybe I just dreamed I took it.

And maybe I shouldn't be posting these thoughts. Maybe I should be digging deep for something inspirational. Usually, no matter what, I hang in there until I can see daylight. Hope. But not right now. Not tonight.

I had yet one more hearthurting time with a man tonight. I know that, the way I'm made, I am unable to do anything but keep my heart open to love. But that also means being open to hurt. And boy howdy, I've had a lot of that lately. Actually, for as long as I can remember.

No, I'm not giving up. I can't. Probably would if I could. But I can't. My faith in God, Love, is too deep and strong. I've learned from sad experience that a sore soul does heal.

I know that soon, maybe tomorrow, maybe even sooner, perhaps in the dark before dawn, I will feel the pulse of hope restarting my heart. I will review all there is to be grateful for. I will find something outside myself, something to do for someone else.

But for tonight, I hurt.

Loving what is

I just rolled out of bed on this spring morning, May 7th, and here's the scene that greets me out my beloved picture window.

Now, here's another picture. I'm in the middle of a second, utterly fantastic, e-course (go click the button to the right to see what The Creative Playground is all about). I was asked to look out the window of my mind and dream and show at least a little of what I see.

Hmmmmmm . . . now, do any of you see a difference between what is framed in these two windows?????

Is it any WONDER that I dream of the second, while living with the reality of the first??

Now, all those obvious contrasts aside, when I rolled out of bed this morning, even before I saw the winter wonderland that a spring day in South Dakota has "gifted" me with, I got hit with a choice: complain or cheer. Love what is, or fuss about what is not.

Other fellow journeyers through this life have graced us with wonderful quotes (and I'm NOT gonna do research to get them word-perfect, or this post will never see the light of day.)

"When life hands you lemons, make lemonade." A-nony-moose?

"In the midst of winter, I found within me an invincible summer." Camus

"Life isn't about waiting for the storms to pass. It's about learning to dance in the rain." A-nony-moose.

Plenty of other people have been faced with current circumstances that they would gladly trade for something else. We all stand at crossroads, multiple times a day. The direction we take greatly influences HOW we feel and therefore ACT, as we continue down that chosen path.

Would I prefer a warm sunny day today? Yes.

Would I prefer not to continue to be plagued with residual difficulties from a divorce I never wanted? Yes.

Would I prefer that the current man in my life were the man of my dreams? Yes.

Would I prefer . . . (gonna stop here, 'cause the list SEEMS endless!!)

Instead, I choose:

--to laugh at the silliness of snow in May; at snow covering a yard half-mowed; at a dirty-laundry basket filled with just-worn capris and tank tops, while I search for clothes warm enough to wear today.

--to say a sincere "thank you" for the prompting I received from the divorce lawyers, which "forces" me to review my finances and see if I can live on less.

--to stop ruminating over why he hasn't called and just pick up the phone and tell him I need to hear from him.

Right here, right now, is the only real moment. I can ruin it with the disappointment that bleeds from the brokenness of unmet expectations. Or, I can choose delight and laughter. I can choose tenderness and love, independent of current circumstances. I'll state the ridiculously obvious: I cannot change the snow. I cannot change what other people do towards me. But oh, here's the flip side--the equally ridiculously obvious flip side: I CAN change me. I CAN decide, right here, right now, that NOTHING can dispossess me of my God-given joy and kindness, nor my divinely natural inclination to bring those feelings to any set of human circumstances.

How about you? What crossroads are you standing in right this moment? I am NOT dismissing the severity of certain human events, nor unmindful of how some happenings can wear on our souls. What I'm saying is that we--you, and I--have a choice in how we respond. And our first response, if it sucks us down a traditional path of "Alas, woe is me!", does NOT have to be the response we stick with. We can choose to embrace whatever lies before us, and face it with the joy and love that is native to us, native because our Creator put it in us at the beginning.

Here's a picture, snapped a couple weeks ago:

Same scene, taken a few seconds ago--and PLEASE appreciate my dedication in sharing this with you, 'cause it meant sneaking out the front door in my bathrobe and flipflops, and sheltering my camera from the still-falling snow :)

Do I prefer the day in which the first shot was taken? An hour ago, my answer would have been a resounding YES! But the second shot is a moment of TODAY--a snippet of what lies before me in my here and now. And I choose to LOVE it. I choose to take the example of those brilliant hardy tulips and say, "Yep, I, too, am blossoming in the midst of inclement weather, and nothing can stop me either, from growing and blooming, just like I was created to do."

Now, all that brings to mind another quote, or a version thereof:

"Tu-lip, or not tu-lip--that is the question . . ."

Sorry, Shakespeare!!! And love to all of you!! I'm off now--got a lot of tu-lipping to do today!!

Welcome, April

I'm not quite sure where I disappeared to, since my last blog post on my birfday . . .I'm not gonna spend much time, here, analyzing WHY I haven't posted in so long. Many journal pages already have tons of footprints from the zigzagging journey of these past few weeks.


Suffice it to say that I am here, now. And here's a picture of me that I ended up quite liking. It was sort of a "before" picture for an assignment in an e-course I took. And when I saw it, I said to myself, "Self, look at those legs . . . look at their strength and curve . . . " I can't remember the last time I so thoroughly enjoyed the sight of myself in skin-tight clothing.


Another assignment in this e-course was to define ourselves through images and perhaps a word or two: again, I surprised myself by what I chose. It actually took a lot of oomph to "name" myself this so publicly. But hey, I think I am beginning, teeny step by teeny step, to allow myself to love the best of me.


Yet one more assignment in this e-course that I've just completed, was to have a photo that could serve as an advertisement for ourself. Instead of creating something new, I ended up taking a fresh look at a wall in my living area that, piece by piece, has accumulated over this winter, to end up being a pretty accurate depiction of me.




I'm conscious that this post, so far, might seem to be all me/me/me/me/me. And aren't we so cautioned about getting wrapped up in self? But here's the thing: this post doesn't reflect the all of me. Actually, I spend most of my active time helping others. During this month of being off-line with my blog, I've been with an elder relative every day during her two emergency room visits and ten days in the hospital. On behalf of a friend in deep need, I was awake all night and prayed, except for a brief hour+ nap. On a day when my own heart was hurting and felt in need of comfort, I went instead to another friend's bedside, took her flowers and loving thoughts.




I don't mention ANY of this to say "Woohoo, isn't Maureen wonderful." Those actions I told you about were just some of the ways that God uses me. They result from my surrendering myself to God and asking Him to guide me. They are ways that He stops me from being so sad over MY life, and has me reach out to others.



But another thing that God is doing in me, is causing me to realize, in very practical ways, that the only way to truly "love my neighbor as myself," is to love myself as well. And that means being just as joyous about Maureen, as I am about others.



So actually, the first paragraphs of this post, where I WAS talking about me/me/me, I guess that I really WAS saying, "Woohoo, isn't Maureen wonderful." [ARGH!!! that was so hard to type!!! Little itchy voices all through my head are screaming "you are SO stuck on yourself!]



Hey you guys . . . aren't we ALL wonderful??? Truly wonder-full?? Do we have to wait for someone else to say it about us??? Can't we gently, lovingly, joyfully, acknowledge that we are indeed, an asset to the world around us? How are the rest of you dealing with this? Are you able, in some public way (meaning not just in the silence of your thoughts, or on a private journal page), to say really nice things about yourself? I'd love to hear what you think on this.

Morning After

Love. Love God. Love yourself. Love others. But above all, when in doubt, love.

Sometimes I think I'm making progress, or what I would call progress. I see a place in my life that I think I need to/ought to/should be, and try to get there. I know all about how the journey is equally important as the destination, and some would say more so.

But still. It has been hard for me to value my wanderings in the wilderness. Why can't I just get "there" and finally be "done?"

Those are the frustrations--the chorus of nasty voices that swirls around the edges of my thoughts at times.

But. [And this is a BIG but!!!!] I'm finally seeing evidence of true growth. Of groping in the dark, zigzagging through the wartorn pieces of my life, enduring self-inflicted wounding and STILL coming out of it loving myself and my babystumble from an old life into a new.

All these pictures? Evidence of the day-old Valentine's candy I bought for myself yesterday. And ate. The chocolate that kept me from sleeping. I knew when I ate it that I might be sabotaging sleep. But the tender ache, the still healing wounds from unrequited love, called out for something sweet. So I fed myself chocolate.

When I couldn't sleep in the dark of night, I got up and read a book. Went back to bed just before 4am and managed to sleep, on and off, until almost noon. Got up and showered. Went to my line dance class, groggy, grainy in my soul, a little wobbly in my dancing feet. But gentle. Oh-so-gentle with my emerging self.

Right now, I am doing the best I can. I am moving from darkness into light. Yes, I wobble. Sometimes I fall. Hard.

But I'm learning to hug myself. Maybe lie down with my self, and rest, until we can get to our feet again. More hugs. Wipe away tears. Blow snotty nose. Turn face to the sun and start again, one tiny, unsteady step at a time, into the light.

Renewal

Fresh start. What an incredible feeling. Much prayer the last few days. Deep sorrow layered with a heart open to God. The scraped rawness was also tender skin exposed to healing warmth.

I made some decisions about relationships. Played with colored pencils and tissue paper and glue sticks. Helped my mother's sister celebrate her 88th birthday. Helped teach a dance class. In the middle of a very long and sometimes bitter winter, sat outside today in the winter sun and smelled hope on the breeze.

I will never give up on love. Never. No matter what.

Amen.