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sweet chariot

I have started this post several times. I have written it in my head countless times. I hesitate because I don’t think the answer is as clear as the question. I am not sure it measures up to expectations.  However, in the end, its the expectations that hurt me the most. It was trying to live up to my self expectations that I fell short. “Expectations are pre-meditated resentments,” I was told. I held these expectations and resented myself when I couldn’t live up to them.

I was asked how I have changed on my journey. I was asked how I am different and how my outlook has evolved. I spent a long time trying to come up with an answer that makes sense. I tried to list my character defects and how they have been eradicated. I tried to come up with specific examples. In the same moment, I had a bump in the road that made me feel rejected. I don’t even really know the background or outcome, but my reaction was to feel hurt. I could feel all the rejection I have ever felt all over again. I felt teenage loves, jobs, schooling, loves, and losses. I felt friends who turned their backs and hurled insults. I felt the pain. My character defect of low self esteem reared its ugly head once again. How could I speak to how I removed my character defects when here was the largest one laughing at me again?

Do people really change? Can redemption really occur in this life? Is a loving God loving only after we die? IS suffering a choice?

I decided to not write this post. I had nothing to say and couldn’t see myself lying again to make myself look good. I had spent so much time lying to myself about who I was, how I was, that it became routine. I couldn’t even tell that I wasn’t growing or changing. I was lost in looking good and looking together. I just didn’t want to do that again.

I talked to a trusted friend about it. They are a new friend and I had to explain my story all over again. I explained what I did 10 years ago to change a direction. I described how I tried to change but wasn’t able. I explained how I didn’t even see a large hole in my soul. It gathered moss and a fetid smell as it corroded my heart. It culminated in feeling rejected and scrambling to cure my ache. It was the match for the fuse that blew up my life. Nothing would ever be the same. The tower of Babel I had built tumbled. The dust settled slowly. I explained how I had went on a voyage inside first. I dissected my life, my emotions, my reactions, my pain. I did things differently. I asked for help. I admitted weakness. I embraced the pain as a message. I humbled myself and spoke honestly about my mistakes as well as my victories. As a result, I got to be free of the shame. I got to experience a new kind of freedom. A freedom from the bondage of self. I had told my story so many times that it felt like just words. I had finally got to the point that I didn’t need to explain or justify, I just spoke the journey and the hope of tomorrow. Many times, people would tell me how hearing my journey touched them and helped them. They mentioned the truth and honesty in what I spoke. I explained to my trusted friend that I felt afraid and rejected again. He smiled. The arrogant jerk just smiled at me. I stared at him with disbelief. And he started to chuckle. Did I say friend? Maybe I spoke to soon. He spoke through laughing eyes and asked, “Ever been called truthful and honest in your previous life?”

I hadn’t. I think the biggest change for me is being ok with change.  Sometimes, I go through it kicking and screaming. I have gotten to a point that I know that I will be ok in the change. I have been tumbled like tennis shoes in a dryer and come out wrinkled and fluffed to trudge another day. I know that God is in this and has been in this. I know that when I get knocked down, I get back up. I have learned to trust myself. More importantly, I like myself. I genuinely, love myself. When I mumble the words to myself, “I love myself,” I can ask myself if the current actions or thoughts are being loving to me or not.

I don’t know how to answer the question of how I have changed. I have changed a lot in some areas and not so much in others. I can wax philosophic about grandiose words such as trust, love, honesty, and change. I can speak to journey or to God’s Grace. I can share pages and pages of introspection and a pretty impressive healing resume over the last few years. I can talk about my journey or responding rather than reacting .I can speak to time. Time wasted, time appreciated, time spent, and time lived. I could mention that I had to change everything and allow God to rebuild me.

IT is all true, but over-expansive. I have simply learned to pause when agitated or doubtful.

 
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Posted by on August 14, 2016 in journey

 

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breaking the wind

I am a sucker. I believed the lie. I followed the wind and realized the wind was just blowing, not leading. The wind just makes it easier to get somewhere, it doesnt really lead you on a direction. I was biking the other day and thought I was just on fire. I was setting personal records and riding with tireless legs. It was glorious. I listened to my music and every song seemed to speak to my wounded and empty heart. I had answers to what to bring to a Dead’s Man Party or a theme song for a career as a Psycho killer. Then the dreaded turn. There is a 90 degree left turn that crests a hill on my ride. I rise out of the valley and turn this turn to head back to the trailhead. Well, another answer was there to meet me. The reason I was riding with such ease was the gnarly fall wind. It almost knocked me over. Only the deft skills I possess and David Byrne chanting, “Qest Que se?” Which loosely translated is “What the F$%^?” The wind hadnt changed to obstruct my course or to reward my legs with triumph over adversity. The wind didnt care if I was on the trail, off the trail, walking, riding, or falling. The wind was just blowing.

In the original text, the word for spirit, is Ruah or wind. The Holy Spirit could be translated to be the set apart wind. It occurs to me that the wind that blows seems to be the wind, the voice, the breath. We breath our wind to each other. Sometimes that wind is sweet and welcomed and sometimes it smells like onion and coffee. When that breath has love behind it, it is made to be received with joy. Even more than that, it is made to be given with grace.

I tried to let that Wind lead me. I wanted so desperately to be doing the right thing and felt like if I did it right, wonderful blessings would be bestowed unto me. The problem is that when you are standing in a wind storm, sometimes you get knocked over. Moreover, it is hard to get back up again. The wind becomes difficult. Even when you are tumbling along like a tumbleweed, it can be brutal. I dont think that is living life abundantly anymore. It is hard to be thankful and grateful for each moment and the day in general when you are tumbling along the dusty highway.

It is also tough to recognize what force is blowing. If you are in a wind storm and someone has a wind machine 30 degrees off the winds course and both are blowing, which is the direction you will go? If my bike ride was any indication, off the worn path and into some prickly bush. When the wind is calm or stale and the heat oppressive, any breeze feels welcome. Isnt that the reason we have so many gods with a little g: Money, Fame, Sex, Drugs and Rock and Roll? I have been questioning the little g gods I have been blown by. I chased intimacy and connection and struggled to learn how to do it fast enough. I was directed to career and managed to derail that. I was lead to self actualization and ended up very lonely. I felt the breeze of possessions and ended up suffocated with objects. I even felt the wind heap shame on me, as if I could handle the load. I thought I was doing all of this for other, my family, my kids, my self, my God, etc etc. The truth is that feels like a lie. All of those answers arent true. If the Holy Spirit is the guiding force for our lives and we are made to hear the voice of God through the works of the Spirit, then it would seem that it would be directional. However, I fell for that lie. It isnt. The wind doesn’t really care about the direction, or the individual results, necessarily. God doesn’t say that He wants us to believe and then do whatever he says. What He says is, believe and follow me. He want us to do what we do in a new way. The wind is the breath, the voice to us. The Truth is that the air moves with us regardless of the direction. The Truth is that the why isn’t as important as the how.

 
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Posted by on November 1, 2015 in faith, journey, life

 

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Zelda the psychotherapist

I think I might be Brittny Spears.  Well, at least I am channeling her songs. One in particular, “Oops, I did it again,” rings true. I don’t know if Id go as far as wear the cheerleading outfit she did in the video, but I am certainly humming the verse.

I mentioned that I think my VW bus is magical. I think Zelda is also a psychotherapist. She is more of a sit and listen patiently while you talk yourself into a hole or self revelation.  She seems pleased with either outcome. zelda

I took her on our maiden camping voyage this weekend and felt waves of realization and actualization pound against my brain and heart like a hurricane on a dingy. I discovered and uncovered truth after truth. I was diminished and rebuilt.

I have been reading about how our childhood traumas leave scars on our ability to relate. We never learn or forget how to be flexible with other people and even with ourselves.  I am not laying blame with anyone.  However, at some point in my childhood, I learned to get attention by crying, and to put on a false bravado would protect you from harm.  I carried that on for a long time. The disparity of who I was on outside and who I was on inside was cavernous. I begged to be told I was ok, good, attractive, smart, whatever. I needed it because I had lost my true self.  I had hidden behind my false self.  I think everyone does that to a certain extent. I had just done it completely.  As the cavern grew, so did the pain. I drank it away. I flirted it away. I laughed it away. For awhile.

I thought I had truly met myself and was emerging as my true self over the last 9 years. I reacted differently. I enjoyed life. I tried to be alive. I dug into my heart and soul. I was dumbfounded with my need to escape once again a few years ago. I needed to feel intimacy. The marriage I was in had no real intimacy. We had lost the ability to communicate and also the desire to want to grow together. The need consumed me and my world exploded.

Again, I thought I had worked through that in counseling and self exploration. But, oops, I did it again. I tried to become what I thought someone else wanted me to be. I was afraid of not being good enough. I was afraid of being less than.  Again, I ran and hid. My life changed. I retreated into my soul and mind.

Zelda the Wonderbus allowed me to see that I have been doing it all over again here. I wanted to be respected, but I wasn’t respecting. I wanted to be liked, but I wasn’t liking. I wanted to be accepted, but I wasn’t accepting. I didn’t ing anyone or myself. I was not allowing for Namaste. I wasn’t allowing for the God spark that is in me to shine and frolick with all the other God sparks out there. I didn’t know my spark was just as valuable, just as beautiful, just as worthy as everyone elses. Not knowing kept me in darkness, hidden and afraid.

That Zelda—she is a wonder.

 
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Posted by on August 31, 2015 in journey, life

 

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walk about

I have gone walkabout. Yes, I am quoting, “Crocodile Dundy”. I am a product of the 80’s. I ponder the question, “What IS so funny about peace, love, and understanding?” I secretly hope that a mullet will once again be in fashion, and I can break out my white sports jacket and hang out with a guy named, Crockett. I am not embarrassed to say that I have put a message in a bottle. It was only this year that I figured out that Sting might have been a Sage and the message in a bottle is internet dating. Everyone does it, and everyone who still does it is still lonely. I ponder keeping my knit ties, just in case. I think “Every girls crazy about a sharp dressed man,” and wished I wanted to dress nicer.

Back to the topic. I have gone walkabout. I was in a mope. I couldn’t see any of the positive surrounding me. I was melancholy about the past and my obvious failures. I had morphed into becoming the failures rather than having them. It had become apparent to me that I was destined to living life as “The Dude,” and my soul purpose was to have my rug not peed on. Beck sang in my head, “I am a loser, baby, so why don’t you kill me.” I had lost my smile, my joy, my love. I hadn’t lost it, I gave it away.

I had a few experiences, recently, that bitch slapped me awake. I had a patient complaint filed. Sounds odd, but it was sort of a nuisance complaint. Complaining about a doctor giving you medication and when you filled it, took it, and 3 days later had an unrelated side effect, isn’t all that sound. Still it bothered me. I like being a doctor, just not being punished for being a doctor. Our current system punishes medical people for trying to help. Nasty system. Then, I had more than one person tell me to choose my path. I just needed to decide where I wanted to be headed, they proclaimed. Novel concept, choose to be happy or growing. Then finally, my ex girlfriend told me to leave her alone. I miss her and love her, always will. However, her setting a boundary made me aware that I had slipped back into the idea that it is all about me. I could only see my side of things and had gotten so lost in the darkness, I had forgotten to enjoy the light. I had to let it, and her, go.

So I went walkabout. I decided to just disappear for awhile. I got books on tape and got in my little car and headed out. I decided to visit a friend from high school. We were glued to each other for years and years. I drove down from Idaho to California. My overnight stop was going to be Las Vegas. I had visions of the Rat Pack and figured the people would be the same as 25 years ago when I had last been there. They would scream my name, a la Norm from Cheers. I would have some funny quip and then win so big at the 2 dollar black jack table, I would get comped a room. Umm, not so much. I stopped and watched the slobbering drunks try and stay perched on the bar stools, smelt the cigarettes and alcohol, and recoiled. I hopped in the car and head on down the road. I stopped in Baker, California. I was pretty tired and pulled into the first hotel I saw. It seemed safe, and the rooms were cheap. I was handed the key to room #7. Yep, the key. I pulled in and opened the door. I was transported to the Caribbean, and not in a good way. There was a bed, an 80’s TV, with a cable line attached that draped over a bare wall. The tile floor was clean, but dingy. There was a bed and a chair, that in 1983 must have been brand new and very nice. There was that round table that you had in your first apartment next to the bathroom. The bathroom had a bare bulb and pink tile. There was a mirror that I could see my chin in if I stood on tiptoes. It was the lap of luxury. I laid down on the most uncomfortable mattress I have ever been on. I wondered if the bedbugs would carry me off the bed in the night. I giggled for 30 minutes as I fell asleep.

I got up in the morning, luckily unbitten by the bedbugs and rats that haunted my dreams. I headed down the road and stopped at a 50’s diner in the middle of nowhere. It was great. Campy as all get out, but great.

I watched my friend with his new wife and their baby. We hung out and did nothing. We talked. We just were. Today we will go to a beach, strolling around A town in California. I will go and meditate on a beach North of here for a few days tomorrow. I am not bad, or lost, or “less than.” I just am. I am the guy who giggles at cheesy hotels. I am the guy who rejoices in the campy. I am peaceful and loving. I am the guy who grows and learns. I am the guy who can weather the storms. I am me.newport

 
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Posted by on May 24, 2015 in journey, Uncategorized

 

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change, change, change…change of fools

” I AM OK.” I scream at no one in particular. I don’t feel ok, and all I am doing is trying to convince myself. Somedays,  it works for awhile.

I don’t like being this way. I read an article recently that was talking how some people just don’t let themselves be happy. It suggested that they feel unworthy of good things happening and so they sabotage them. Or they dread being happy or content because it means something bad is going to happen. It has been a long time since I felt truly happy for any duration of time. Decades. Am I want of those people? Am I incapable of living in the world letting water flow off my duck like back?3523448240_77823295a9_b I have enjoyed many moments in my life. I have laughed. I have triumphed. I have loved and lost. I have failed and persevered. But, I cant seem to be content.

“I DONT WANT TO BE THIS WAY.” I screamed at no one in particular.

“change,” he whispered back.

“how?” I blubbered.

“Be and Do differently.”

There was a time that I just felt at ease. I drove a school bus for 18 months or so. One morning, the Sun was rising as I checked over the bus. The air was nippy, but not cold. I took a picture and sent it to my girlfriend at the time. It was only a fraction as beautiful as I think she is. I was overwhelmed with a feeling of contentment. I had no money, no real prospects at the time. The love of my life lived 500 miles away. But I was safe, I was warm, I was loved. It lasted all day. I relished the feeling and didn’t want it to ever go away. I held on too tight. It slithered through my fingers like squeezing play doh.squeezing-playdough I didn’t see that I was sabotaging myself and my happiness by being desperate. I lost it.

“It hurts.” I whispered.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

 
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Posted by on May 19, 2015 in journey, life

 

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wear the mask or forgive

The boy was dirty. He smelled bad. He had rolled around in the gutter of life and ate from the trough of despair. He cowered and was skittish. If you could bare to watch him for any length of time, you could see intelligence in his eyes. You could feel the desire to be loved and to love completely. Inside, he knew this wasn’t how he wanted to be but had no idea how to change it. He had grown to believe the taunts and hurtful rantings of others as they walked by, giving a wide birth. He was not worthy. He was a waste. He was slime.

“Oh, you will be a wonderful Christian soldier.” “You are a boy who is a leader.” “Come, and be with me and we will have a picture perfect life.” “If only you could see you as I see you.” Oh, the words she said. They felt good. They rang so different. They felt like someone was actually speaking his language for the first time. It almost didn’t matter what it was she said, he was ready to absorb it all. He felt as the lepers must have felt when Jesus touched them. Finally, someone told him he could be redeemed. All he had to do was become what this girl told him he already was. He wanted to be the person she saw. He wanted to be loved for filling that role. He wanted to see himself through her eyes. He wanted to not have to eat from the trough. He tried to fill the role. He wore a mask of beautiful white because he thought that spoke of the innocence he would need to be a Christian leader in a perfect life. mask3 He tried. He knew he would be unable to fully live up to expectations. He understood that the mask had to be protected and secured into place. Without it, he was not that person and surely would be unlovable. The mask was stifling. The mask burned his face. The mask began to crumble and the boy wanted to let it go. He was resentful at having to wear it. He was afraid of not wearing it. He cried behind it. The mask fell. The woman rejected what she saw and he walked away.

“You are so strong.” “You are so kind, so good.” “I love you so much for who I see.” “If only you could see yourself as I see you.” Oh the words she spoke. Certainly, she must be right. He was strong. It took strength to keep living. He was kind. He wanted desperately to see himself as she saw him. He started out just being himself. She seemed to respond and he was gloriously happy. “I don’t think you need to remember your days of filth.” “I wonder if the language you speak is true.” “I wonder if I see you.” He panicked. He worked harder at being the man she saw. He climbed, he searched, he held secret the pain. He hid behind a new mask. mask2IT was bright colors and fun. He tried to smile to match it. The pain he felt overwhelmed him and he had to drop the mask. He didn’t want to and it took a long time to fully let go. He loved the fun. He loved the woman. He wanted to be the person she saw. He just wasn’t. The mask fell.

“I wish you would see yourself like I do.” “You should be doing your life in this way.” “When you finally figure out the right way to do things, I will love you like you should be loved.” IT had been a long time since he had felt anyone really wanted to be with him. She wanted to make him a better man. She wanted a companion that could live up to the ideals she had created. He had struggled and fought to find out who he was without a mask. He thought he was equipped to be that perfect match. She echoed the sentiment. The mask was utilitarian.mask1 It was slate gray. It had little life, but followed all the rules. It wasn’t comfortable or fun, but it was exactly what he expected. He wore the mask, but his feet kept dancing and he shuffled right out the door.

He moaned that he couldn’t seem to become what anyone wanted. He was just himself. He was hurt and bruised. He ached to love and be loved. He knew the past would haunt him forever. He had made such monumental mistakes that no one would ever see past them. He felt lower than when he wallowed amongst the pigs. He looked to God and yelled, “I wish you could see me as you see me.” He cried.

God whispered back, “No, you don’t and you can’t.”

“Oh great, even God can’t get over my past.”

“No, to see you like I see you is both glorious and heart wrenching. I see your good and your bad. I see your heart and your fear. You don’t want to see the disparity. You don’t want to see the whole. You focus on either the good or the bad, never both. You can’t see you for who you are until you forgive yourself like I do. You won’t ever stop hiding and running behind the next mask until you are able to embrace ALL of you. My wish for you is that I wish you could forgive yourself as I forgive you.”forgiveyourself1

“I can try.”

“Let it happen, it is already there.”

 
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Posted by on May 4, 2015 in faith, journey, life

 

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live, life, and love

At first, I was afraid. I was petrified.

I am not sure why this song keeps ringing in my head as of late. I have been on both sides of that song, I have been the survivor and the one who hurt with goodbye. I have even been both at the same time. I don’t like either role, however.  don’t get me wrong, I admire my perseverance and ability to survive for some nasty life circumstances. However, that isn’t really the crux of that song.

I have some odd intimacy issues that I am working through. I would even say that I was dangerously close to a relationship addict. I was certainly in a 20 year marriage that had a multitude of addictive characteristics.  After I got out of the marriage and started dating a wonderful woman, I slid right back into some of those destructive habits. It is all I knew and a coping mechanism for some very hurtful internal struggles. I am so thankful the experience revealed some pretty core issues I needed to work on. I am also pretty remorseful that it cost me a love relationship and my best friend in the process. My fear was of being alone. I “kept thinking I could never live life without (you) by my side.” I was petrified that I needed someone by my side to tell me I was ok or I wouldn’t be ok. I feared being alone and clung to people.  However, I also was smart enough to know that would eventually be annoying and smothering. I was afraid of attaching and I was always on alert for who I would date next if the person walked out the door. My fear and internal chains led me to feel sorry for myself and state false bravado. Id push women away, desperately wanting them to stay.

When they got sick of it and left, Id go the other way. Id be in a panic that I was alone. Id start to fear loneliness. What if I never loved again? What if I was never loved again? I’d see myself as unworthy, unlovable, undesirable. My chains would get tighter. Id choke.  If someone did come back, Id fear the hurt more than desire the connection. Id send them away, proving to myself that I wasn’t worthy. Laying down and dying would have been less painful. I had crumbled, and pieces have much more surface area to accumulate pain.

I used to think that survival was the goal. It sounds so strong in the song. Follow that up with I will stay alive and I heard power and hope. The truth for me is that neither one is all that worthy of a goal. Both imply existence, which is a good start for sure. However, they are not dynamic. Survive and live are akin to existing. You can exist and sit on the couch. You can exist and not grow. You can exist in a shame marriage. You can exist and wear a mask, cowering from interaction and your true self. You can exist in darkness, blotting out existence. You can exist and be afraid. You can exist and be petrified, solid and frozen forever.

The goal is living. Living into each moment. Embracing growth and change. The goal is living who you are and who you are becoming. The goal is perpetual journey into a better and better version of yourself. The goal is to know that when we are alone, we are the same person as when we are not. The goal is to not be afraid of true intimacy with ourselves. I needed to embrace me. I needed to know that when I sent me out the door, I had lost my best friend, my true companion. I needed to know that I could exist without my true self, but I could never live. If I was willing to be accepted or rejected by someone else and maintain my journey, I would grow. I would be able and available for a dynamic, truly intimate relationship.

I do have all my life to LIVE and all my love to give. It has to start inside.

 
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Posted by on April 30, 2015 in journey, life

 

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am I serious?

Today is my 48th birthday.

I am 8 1/2 years on the road of Happy Destiny.

I am 3 years out of a bad marriage.

I am 6 months into a “do-over” on my career and life.

I am about 3 days into the recognition that I take myself too seriously re-struck its disharmonious chord with me.

I have had a tumultuous few years and have had to start my life all over a few times before I could gain purchase. I even fell in love since the divorce, but was so panicked about loosing it, I lost it.

When I did a week at a counseling center in Arizona, the counselor suggested to me that I was way to serious and had lost touch with my inner child.  I had never been told I was too serious before. It was odd to me. I had lost my smile and the joy in little things. However, I thought I had been getting them back. I had moved and started teaching. I felt like I would be ok even though I was unsure how. This was one of the steps to get a license in Idaho and restart my medical career. Things were looking up. Serious? me? She thought so and suggested I go to Build a Bear and design my inner child.

“Ummm, really?”

“Yes, you need to get in touch with it and you aren’t.”

“I will, but I sort of think its stupid.”

“All the more reason why I think you should.”

Big T

I did. He rides around with me in my car. This is his, “Are you serious?” look.

Still I have been feeling lost and separated from myself for some time now. I am unsettled and lonely. I have gotten stuck in the quicksand of my past. I have screamed and hollered. I have begged and pleaded. I have not moved on. I couldn’t let go of what I knew for the unknown. I was scared of my life and of myself. I didn’t trust me or God. “You just have to know that God is protecting you, you are safe,” she said. “You will be ok,” my old life said.

I forgot to enjoy the present. I forgot to enjoy me in the present. I am not that miserable guy. I like to laugh. I enjoy to have fun and do silly things. I remembered in an unusual way. I set about the task of making my new house my new home. I was dismantling the shoddy shelving the previous owner built and was holding a jigsaw. I dropped it on my wrist and opened a gash in my arm. I stopped the bleeding and started looking for a needle and thread to sew it up. At one point, I looked at the wound and felt faint. I had to lay down. As I regained my composure, I giggled that I was thinking of suturing myself and I cant even look at it without feeling lightheaded. I called a friend to take me to ER, but said to wait about 5 minutes, so I could eat a sandwich. She giggled and said, “Are you serious?” I took pictures of the wound and posted it on Facebook so all could guess on number of sutures. I had fun in the ER, actually.

When I got home, I was going to hang those tennis balls to know how far to pull into the garage. I didn’t have any, but I did have all these Snoopy toys that I couldn’t figure out where I wanted them to go.  So…

snoopy chain

I giggle each time my windshield taps these.  You will notice that I also hung my old kitchen lights in the garage to spruce it up.

I was feeling lighter somehow. I felt like I recognized me. I had begun to trust that I would be ok. I recognized my perseverance. I recognize my character. I felt hope. On Sunday, in the education hour, we talked about Romans 5:3 and Romans 8:28. “From suffering comes perseverance, from perseverance, character, and from character, hope.” I was comforted and felt the hope. So I went to the mall and rode a motorized dog (it looks suspiciously like my inner child, Big T says).

dog ride

I am serious about hope. I am serious about life. I am serious about God. I am serious about hoping to have fun with my life and with my God.

Wanna race?

 
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Posted by on April 27, 2015 in faith, journey, life

 

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walk with purpose

Please don’t say another word.

I don’t want to hear it.

I can’t, I won’t, I shant.

Please listen to my heart.

Please see me.

I can’t, He can, I think I will let Him.

Growth. Learning.

Pain. Love. Wrestling with God.

Terror. Bewilderment. Fear. Despair.

Didn’t know how. Didn’t learn fast enough. Hip hurts.

Please let me see me.

Please let me hear my heart.

Learning, Growth. healing.

Trudge on!

Thus begins a long period of reconstruction. Not mine to do, but His. Mine is to take one more step over and over again.

Walk with purpose. The purpose of being the Best Version of Myself and to keep learning, growing to that end, which has no end.

Walk with me, shoulder to shoulder. watch the birds, the sun and moon. Soft kiss, holding hands.

Loving. Growth. healing. Partnering.

 
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Posted by on March 31, 2015 in journey

 

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growth, and worry not

Stretched my mind a bit. I was pondering the belief that there are infinite realities. If every decision we make has only 2 choices (usually there isn’t just 2 choices, but follow me here), then each time our realities would exponentially increase. The decision I make today has 2 choices today, but each of the choices I made 2 minutes ago would also have the same choice right now, thus increasing my realities 4 fold etc. It gets big quick.  Then if my decision now is eliminate by the alternative decision a few minutes ago, then that choice would have its own decisions to make. It is a little mind boggling.

I have been told, “Abandon all hope of a better past.” I have been reminded of it often, as I tend to get stuck in the past wishing I had made a different decision. Or imagining what my life would have been if I chose differently. I wonder if I had not gone to Starbucks the morning my life blew up what it would look like now. I would still be in a loveless marriage, beating myself up over my inability to ask for my needs to be met. I would have continued to lose myself and stunt my growth process. I would still be hiding. However, I would be with my kids, in a town I really enjoyed. I would be nearer to family. I wouldn’t have been through a few years of shame.

I got started on this imagination tour thinking about past relationships. I have gotten to the point that although I would never have chosen the course of how our marriage ended, I am thankful it did. I am not thankful for the pain I caused. However, I am learning to forgive myself for it.

I think about the “what ifs” with the relationships I had since then. There was a period of time that I was thinking I was trying to date, when really I was just looking for companionship. I was aloof and not emotionally connected. I wanted to be saved and to be loved, but I wasn’t ready to be honest and clear in my goals and direction. I thought about some of those. There was one woman who was a hair dresser. She was funny, smart, and very good looking. I really liked her and there could have been something between us. I was in a cycle of dating many women at the same time and after leaving her favorite flowers for her at work, I got back onto a dating site, where she had set up a false profile and felt that getting on and flirting was inappropriate. I wonder if I had been able to be honest with my feeling towards her what would have happened. It would have ended when I started teaching for sure. And I would not have been able to have my first long term relationship as a newly single man.

I knew I would fall in love with her the second I met her 28 years ago. I knew it would be soon the minute I heard she was going to get divorced. I knew it might make me “transistion boy” to date her right after the divorce, but I feared not getting to be with her if I waited. We dated and I learned so much about myself. I learned I feared and craved intimacy. I learned of my shame cycle and drama triangle. I learned I am loveable for me, faults and all. I learned that I can love. I learned that I am a good guy who has made bad mistakes. I learned to trust and lean. Unfortunately, I also learned that I can lean so hard that I slide into the victim role. I learned that my fear self-sabotages me and hurts others. I learned that loss when there is still love hurts much more.

I imagined what it would have been like if either of us had been more secure in our post divorce self. I wondered what it would have been like if I knew my intimacy craving and needs before we dated. I wonder what it would have been like if I was able to express how afraid of loving as strongly as I did. I wonder if I was more relationship able what would have happened. What if I was more secure, more knowledgeable, more loving, more ready  etc etc? I wasn’t and now we are not.

The difference in me? I am focusing on the good. I remember the times I felt free to be myself and loved for that. I remember the fun and laughter. I remember the feeling of physical intimacy engulfed with emotional connection and love. I also try not to over romanticize it and remember some of the difficulties. At the time, I felt like spiritual journey needed to be the same or it would cause friction. I understand now that it is in the different journeys we learn our own. The idea is not understanding or same, but respect and growth. I also felt like I needed to break up with her when I moved out of state. I was worried about being lonely and isolated. I forgot how simply talking to her on the phone or an occasional text makes my heart soar. I thought I needed her to solve my problems. I became the victim, whining about the horrendous things I had been through. I forgot to share and rejoice at the moment of being with the woman I truly, deeply love. Fear strangled me again. Worry.  There is another definition of worry. It is when a larger dog grabs ahold of another dog by the neck, teeth bared, and hold it against the ground. It bites and waits for the other dog to submit. When I worry, I let life circumstances hold me to the ground by my neck. I feel the fear teeth, the panic teeth breech my skin. I fight and the bite gets firmer. I forget to accept life on lifes terms and submit. In my futile wimpering, I lose out on being free. I trap myself by my own worry.

As I submit this time to the life circumstances, I am accepting the lessons learned. I am a better person now than I was even yesterday. I am preparing myself for me. I want to soar. I am hoping not to change the past, but to rejoice from it and live more fully into today with the lessons learned.

I love.

 
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Posted by on March 31, 2015 in journey, life

 

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