Continual Process

Morning ya’ll! It sure has been quiet around here, but man has my brain been in a frenzy. Thankfully it is not one of those “brain explosions” that lay me flat, unable to function. No, it has been a steady flow of pondering, meditation, a-ha moments and just plain rethinking. Geesh, you’d think at my age, I’d be done “thinking”. Yeah, not going to happen, not this side of heaven.

As my brain churns, I have found it difficult to “sit down” and put into words what is coming out. In fact, I haven’t even done my regular journal writing, which says so much, since writing is typically the way I sort things out. It’s like having a pile of dirty clothes, which is so overwhelming you don’t know where to start. So instead of doing anything…just one thing…I simply do nothing. And, it is so bugging the heck out of me!

There is also so much apprehension in putting things “out there”. I thought I was doing better, but I’m realizing that I am still “fearful” of speaking/writing whatever my mind is pondering, given that the process is still being worked out. Deep in my sub-conscience I desire to put forth a “finished product”, whatever that may be, instead of the “journey” and the processing with all its twists and turns and deep valleys and mountain highs. Once again, I gasp at this, because I don’t want to put forth a Porcelain Doll image.

I pulled out some of my notes from Natalie Goldber’s Book, “Writing Down The Bones”:

“…doubt is torture…” “If you are not afraid of the voices inside you, you will not fear the critics out side you.” “…be present, unafraid, open, let the situation give you the subject…” “Dive into absurdity and write. Take chances, be fearless of failure.”

DOUBT, FEAR, OPEN…fearless of failure…! How is it that one gets to the point of not caring what “critics” have to say, yet somehow one finds oneself right back in that funk, that paralyzing funk that threatens to shut ones voice! My therapist says I give people too much power over me. Ya think! It’s my life long story :-/

Questioning what I have to say has been an ongoing struggle (Love of WritingThe Runaway ) Also, thinking that I have to “fight” my way to be heard or having to explain myself over and over. My concept of “healthy” relationships is, well, really skewed. Working on it, though 🙂 I heard actress, Leah Remini say, “I thought I had to fight for everything.” Ok, this sent me into deep, deep thought…which, by the way, continues.

I believe we are always evolving, learning. The day we stop learning, then, we stop maturing and hearing others around us; being open to change and not rigid statutes. I remember a time when I thought 40 years of age was ancient. Let me tell you at 52, that mind set has really changed. There was also a time that I thought if I fulfilled that “proverbial checklist” ALL would go well in the camp. Yup, that magic checklist is non-existent. Hardship and pain are part of this life journey. The question is not avoidance, but how will we handle “it” when comes? And, are we willing to receive help and ask for help when needed? Being vulnerable, transparent, learning to trust.

As you can see, lots going on in this brain of mine. I desire to continue to listen deeply, and write freely. To allow my pen to be ready to write even when the process is messy and unfinished, not waiting until “it” is boxed up, tied neatly with a pretty little bow. Cause let’s face it, if I wait until then, this temporary vessel will be resting in peace (Gosh, I am so ready, but I’m accepting that it’s not time yet).

Seasons

Seasons come and seasons go. None stay for long. Each with its enchanting beauty or with its nightmarish toil. There was a time I had no concept of seasons. I’m sure I was taught about them in school, but I guess it wasn’t important enough for me to pay attention. The weather was either hot or cold, with nothing in between. I recall first being aware that “there was” different seasons, and that there was a “time” of the year in which they took place. I was mesmerized by this new found “lost” information. Why hadn’t anyone ever told me about them? Ha! Well, they had I was just not paying attention.

As life has continued, I’ve become “aware” of seasons in life. However, some life-seasons are as “predictable” as weather-seasons. Some life-seasons can linger far too long, while one aches under its oppressive load. Others, one wishes they had never ended…they were far too short.

Take winter for example. Some places have the beauty of snow, which makes for a winter wonderland. It’s what you see on post cards, on romantic movies. Those beautiful white Christmases. But what about when you are shoveling snow? Frost bite? Wet and frozen toes? Blizzards? You get my point. It also makes “everything” green die all around.

I live in California, so I am not in the midst of snow and such. But I remember a winter that lingered way too long. We had fruit trees in our back yard. Those trees ended up looking like horrid “bushes of dead sticks”. I was so over it. The sight was not one I was fond of looking at every day. I was ready to yank everything out and “start over”. Maybe it’s the “controlling person” in me or the “fixer”, but something had to be done. The gift of “waiting” was definitely not mine. My husband convinced me to wait, which was no easy task.

Come Spring, I was mesmerized by the beauty of “regrowth”. Each bud, each shoot, each sign of “new life” was breath taking. I was grateful I waiting, although not very patiently.

TODAY I’m up to my neck, and at times completely submerged in “snow”. I have “no-shovel”, and even if I had one, I have no strength to “shovel-myself-out”. My winter-season is brutal and frigid. And, at times it feels like it will last forever. However, TODAY, I am reminded of those horrid-dead-bushes in my old backyard. AND…I have HOPE!

~~~ Spring always follows Winter ~~~

There is a time for everything,
    and a season for every activity under the heavens” ~ Ecclesiastes 3:1

Randomness

♦♦♦I’m torn between the smell of BO or perfume. Just can’t seem to make up my mind. But then again, it might be the smell of garlic (remember Putrid Smell?). Something about working out next to a person that is bathe in perfume, even if it’s “Passion” by Elizabeth Taylor. People, sweat and perfume just don’t mix well! On the other hand there is the o-natural-bod-scent…yeah, well, enough said. I’m really leaning toward a third option, a nice clean smell, what do you think?

♦♦♦Trying to wrap my head around full on make up – at the gym – at 3:00am. I have some serious questions y’all. Are your lashes going to fall? Is it waterproof? Is that white towel going to remain white? Did you sleep? Why? Why? Why? Ok, I’m done…I’m moving on 😉

♦♦♦ Why do I always pick the bathroom stall that is out of toilet paper. Seriously, this is getting old. Is my guardian angel sleeping on the job or what? The things I have to come up with. If there really is a “big brother” always watching, Big-Bro has gotten a lot of laughs at my expense. I should be generously compensated for providing entertainment to Big-Bro. This is high quality entertainment, people.

~~ Laughter is good! Sarcasm is…well…sarcasm ;-p ~~

On a serious note, my Therapist recommended a “service dog” to help with my PTSD. We are seriously contemplating it. Has anyone else tried this? What’s your take?

“When writing the story of your life, don’t let anyone else hold the pen.” ~ Anonymous

Love

Who are you looking for?  Who are you hoping to find?

Disappointed by my humanness

my brokenness brings you to doubt

Omnipresent I am NOT

Protector only One

Boxed in by expectations; assailed by whispering tongues

You say this is LOVE

Love is patient ♥ Love is kind

A box that suffocates and wounds

Love does not seek its own

♥LOVE never fails♥