RSS

Tag Archives: rebirth

fascinated

It has been 5 years. 5 years since I consented to leave my house and wife. 5 years since I have had a thriving relationship with my daughters. 5 years of seeing the faces of former friends and heard the clicks of tongues. 5 years since the goal to humiliate and decimate me was paramount. 5 years since I heard the thud of hitting rock bottom.

It has been 5 years since I planted a new seed. It has been 5 years since I had to be an adult and learn to take care of myself. 5 years since I began to learn how to like myself. 5 years of learning to get back up after being knocked down. 5 years since I was given the gift of seeing who around me was really a friend. 5 years since I hit my rock bottom and bounced.

I cant believe it has been that long. It seems like such a short time ago that I was desperate to be liked. It was a short time ago that I craved intimacy on any level. It was a short time ago that I needed someone else to state my worth before I could see it.

I cant believe it has been so long. It seems like the pain should be over by now. It seems like my journey since then has been a million miles. It feels as though I have been in a sprint for the entire time. I scramble and collect. I trudge. I regroup. I stand firm and I waiver. I still hear the echoes of the clucking tongues. I feel the angst from my estranged children. I feel the thud of rock bottom.

I will trudge another day.

Advertisements
 
Leave a comment

Posted by on April 21, 2017 in journey, life

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

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.

 
2 Comments

Posted by on August 14, 2016 in journey

 

Tags: , , , , , , ,

I just sparkle

There is a great song. I think it is by Shawn Mullins. It talks about being born to shimmer and born to shine and born to radiate. I love that idea. I love the idea that we are meant to reflect the light of our creator. I love the idea that trapped inside of each of us is a spark that ignites who we are. I like that our fires can join and rage. I like that our candlelight can become a firelight.

I mourn that we dim our lights. I dimmed my light in judgement. I dimmed my light in rejection. I dimmed my light in low self esteem. I tried to drown it with alcohol. I dimmed my light in faking that everything was ok. I let the clouds roll in from the lands of conditional love and performance based relationship. I hid in the dark shell, trying desperately to warm myself by the thin waning light of my soul. The flame sputtered and choked. MY heart screamed, my soul cried. IT was just as cold inside as from the stern stares as outside.

I began to weep. I began to shiver in the cold. I whispered a small prayer, “Help me.” And He did. The shell cracked and I began to grow. I began to honor my light. I felt the warmth and I began to like it. I let God call the light, “Good.” I let the scales fall away and let Him began to rebuild. He comforted. He quieted. He ignited. He loved. I sparkled.

 
1 Comment

Posted by on August 8, 2016 in journey, life, Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , , , , ,

Zelda meets the boy

zelda and meZelda the Wonderbus is magical. I knew it as soon as they unloaded her from the trailer. There was something special about her. I imagined adventures rivaled only by Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. I jumped in and wheeled around the block. I got a few honks and waved proudly. The horn didnt work or I would have tooted gleefully. It was a few days later that I found out my brake lights and turn signals didnt work and decided the honkers were not waving at me like I thought. I had that fixed and got to work. I put in a laminated wood floor. I stained the cabinets and got new hinges for her. I put in a sound system. I bought seat covers. I sewed a new screen on her tent. We bonded. I think she cherished our time together. She always starts and she garnishes grins everywhere we go. She is even playful, once popping out of gear as I wrestled with the netting. She just wanted to be close to me as I had to scramble to the front to apply the brakes. Zany Zelda.

I have been in a quandry as of late. I find my self romanticizing the past and dwelling on love lost. I have oscillated between feeling like I should live out an 80’s movie and hold up a boom box or some other grand gesture or dive into self remorse and flagellation. I have been doing counseling and trying to learn about myself and why I function like this. It hasnt been easy. What I have found is that I have been unable to really relate to people my whole life. I have not been good at forming attachments or relationships. I, immediately, go to the needy stage and live only as others see me. I had no true self.

My long term relationship worked because she was all too happy to feed me an identity. After I got sober and started to come alive, it disturbed her. She withdrew and I panicked. I did not know myself and I did not know how to be in a relationship. However, I was tired of being dead and couldnt go back again. It crumbled and neither of us knew how to deal with it as evidenced by how nasty it became.

I spend some time trying to understand. I stood strong with my daughters and against some of the slings and arrows. I didnt crumble. I got knocked down a lot and always got back up. Things kept getting worse. I kept soberly moving forward. It started to brighten when I reconnected with an old friend of mine. We dated on and off for about a year. Looking back, I wasnt ready. I still had no idea how to be in a relationship. I had no idea how to love. What needed to start from the inside wasnt there. I quickly saw myself only as she saw me. I wanted to be that guy and was willing to try and be so. When I fell short, I would run away. It became too painful for either of us. However, I still cherish the time we spent together. I did better in that relationship than I had ever done before.zelda with seven

Zelda and I went camping this weekend. She is spruced up and full of style. We decided to stay close but go somewhere I hadnt been before. I have been really pondering who I am and how I fit into this crazy world and taking a break from that would be awesome. Zelda is magical. Not in the fortune telling way like the machine in, “Big”. Or in the fantasy way like in the video game way. She is magical as she just wanted to be with me. She trudged her way up the hill at 60-65 mph (impossible many VW owners say). We found an unoccupied free camping site right next to a stream. We parked and I set up the site. Really, I unfolded the bed and put my memory foam topper on it. I sat with her and read. I listen to her sounds. She listen to me breath. I will neither confirm nor deny that I spent some time talking with her. The magic part is that she allowed me to see what had happened to me and what was happening now. She opened my eyes to the fact that I had isolated all over again. I was afraid. I have ben afraid since I was a kid. I am afraid that someone will tease me. I am afraid that I wont be liked. I am afraid I will be called a coward. I am afraid that I am “less than.” When the bottom fell out of my life, I didnt have to be afraid anymore. I knew that I could survive and be ok with next to nothing. As friends, collegues, family turned their back on me, I saw the truth of who was left. As I scrambled financially, I saw the truth of wants versus needs. As I felt unforgiven and judged by the church universal, I say the loving and forgiving Grace of God. I felt the comfort of Abba. What Zelda showed me is that I am afraid again. I moved to an unfamiliar state, took a different job, left a love interest, set up house in a place 8 hours from anyone I knew. I went to meetings that have a different style and felt wrong. I agreed to restrictions I found silly and misdirected. I was over my head, alone, and without defenses. I was scared. I didnt think I was. I had fought hard to get here. I figured I would just keep fighting. The meetings got wierder, the job prospects unsteady. I wanted to go back to where I was before. I needed someone to tell me who I was and that I would be ok. I was addicted to avoiding my inner self, my true self. Zelda showed me. Under the fear, behind the locked door of my heart, hidden in the corner is that scared boy. He wants to relate. He wants to love. He wants to not be afraid. His arms are outstretched. I hugged that boy this weekend. I told him he was very brave for trying so hard. He was very smart for figuring out a way to get his needs met for so long. He is “just enough.”

Zelda started right up when I headed home.zelda front

 
Leave a comment

Posted by on August 30, 2015 in journey, life

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

so, how long you been dead

I was the dead person the little boy saw. It was a long day, being dead and all. I wasn’t certain that I was dead at first. That made for some awkward moments. You may not know this, but when you are dead the living are not so polite to you. Its really criminal. I have started a petition for the equitable treatment for the living impaired, but that’s a different blog. My first encounter with this was with my ex-wife. Apparently, once you are among the soul less individuals, treating people as people is no longer required. The first step to separate yourself from the recently dead is to send an email to everyone you have ever had contact with. What you need to do is taunt the newly dead and point out all the things that have strangled the life out of the departed. IT is like a game. If you overshoot the victim role, you end up squarely in the perpetrator role. Its the balance beam of subterfuge. The next step is to turn to the family. This is a much more delicate operation. There is more history with the relatives. They understand that the loved one was once living and , in the living, had some very alive moments and some near dead moments. The way to circumnavigate this is to isolate them. You make sure there is no contact with the dead. Changing the locks and having the loved ones refer to the dead by a foreign name helps. Don’t worry about your own soul or about being honest, the dead aren’t welcome in courts and if you slid yourself into the victim role, the departed are now the perpetrator. Make sure that you are caustic and over dramatic each time you interact with the dead. You must keep up appearances at all waking moments.

The second experience was with a woman I dated.  I still had not recognized I was dead and was actually feeling much better.  Maybe I was only mostly dead. I enjoyed a new living with her. I loved very deeply. We played. We laughed. We cried. It was like nothing I had ever experienced in my former life. It scared the living shit out of me. A few months into the relationship, I started to feel my spector self. I recognized my death through counseling and some new friends I had made. The stink of death had not completely left me. I wanted to address it, but it is overwhelming. The spector weaved in and out of my new life. The taunts and humiliation of the past weaved through my being. I tried to talk about it, to address it. The living don’t want to hear from the dead. She pulled away and I panicked. I tried to re-engage in life and living. I feared the return of death. I died all over again. I didn’t like being dead, but I had not figured out how to be alive completely. I have only now recognized my re-death and progressed to live again. However, I am dead to her.

The fascinating thing I learned while dead is that our memories and unresolved traumas stay as ghosts. They are like the wind. The swirl around the living, blocking them from connection with the other living. IF the dark memories, traumas, and insecurities aren’t dealt with, they grow and multiply. The swirling becomes violent. They are isolated from the next step, the light of the world. The living cant see them. They grow slowly enough that the choking is subtle. You grow accustomed to it. The living wonder through a half existence in the midst of a swirl, a dermish. At variable intervals, part of the swirl dives into the corporeal. The ephereal infuses the body and mind. It taints and taunts. The dark diminishes the light. It confuses. IT misdirects. For my new life, it cost me love. IT always costs the price of the moment. IT seems real. It seems like a tangible force. IT feels like being hit by a truck. When it leaves the body, the ghost droppings remain. It stinks up the living. It has to be found and cleaned. Sometimes, the recently departed become part of the swirl. The pain and hurt and other emotions that accompany the memories are darker when compared to the light that was present days, months or years before.

Be Still and know I am God. These words to me quiet the swirl. It recognizes that the swirl and the turmoil are inevitable.  Letting the swirl torment you is optional.  Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional. The wind has to be recognized. It has to be addressed. If the pain is too great, too violent, it will be there when the living is able to deal with it. It will infuse eventually, the swirl is constant and unpredictable. Being aware of it, addressing it deliberately, honestly, and compassionately is the key to knowing God.

 
Leave a comment

Posted by on June 26, 2015 in divorce, journey

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

click three times….

I am the scarecrow.scarecrow2 I walk funny and have very little fashion sense. I also really want to be smarter. I keep getting myself into hurtful situations by not thinking it out. My dad used to say that I was thinking, just with the wrong head. My life in BD (before Dorothy) was not very exciting. I fumbled along looking for a purpose. I analyzed myself and could tell you all my shortcomings and faults. As I wondered around aimlessly, a smart and wholesome woman suggested I would like to be of service in the fields. She described how it would make me a good Christian to protect the food source and be of service. She suggested it was my calling and I could do it for a lifetime. I hoisted myself on the cross and hung there. I beamed at her and she at me. I had found love and a purpose at the same time. The woman grew to resent me. She wanted to control and for me to be in control. She didn’t like taking care of me. I grew to resent the woman. I tried to wiggle out of the victim role, but didn’t know how. I just hung around. The woman left and I stayed on the cross, lamenting. Dorothy came along and invited me to share in the journey. She wasn’t going to do it for me, and made no promises. I fell off the cross and learned to walk all over again, resuming the stumbling journey. I wanted a brain.

I am the tin man.tin-man I have been frozen in time by my ill timed tears. I have felt hollow and empty. I have longed for love and to be loved. I have felt like my heart was taken and destroyed. I have lived a life pretending to feel. I faked not having pain or despair. I have run away in fear from love because I was worried I had nothing to give in return. Dorothy came along and suggested a voyage to my heart. They would love me until I could love myself and then I could love someone else.

I am the lion.The-Wizard-Of-Oz-Cowardly-Lion I put on a brave front. I was a bully and fierce protector. I humiliated others and used my false bravado to intimidate. Inside I quivered. Inside I fled. Inside I screamed. I was afraid of life. I was afraid of risk. I was afraid that if anyone could see my insides, they would reject me. I set out to prove them right and rejected them or made them reject me. I was cowardly. I couldn’t state my needs or wants for fear I didn’t deserve to have them. Dorothy came and rejected only the exterior. She denied the bravado and slapped my nose. She loved my interior. She acknowledged the good in failing and getting up again. She encouraged journey, rather than destination.

I am Toto. Clueless and yappy. I offered little to the story but comedy relief. I existed and wondered, but didn’t really live. Dorothy didn’t help me at all, I got nothing from the Wizard. I didn’t change or adapt to any situation. I refused to grow, and just kept wandering, pointing out the flaws in everyone else’s story of magic.

But of course, Dorothy and the Wiz didn’t really give me anything I didn’t have. I had the brains to know how to survive in a loveless marriage, and the brains to get back on the path when that fell apart. I had the love to love again. I hurt not because I have no heart, but because mine works. I didn’t need a new heart, just to heal my own. I had courage. The courage to protect myself the only way I knew how, and when shown a different way, the courage to change. I had the courage to arise once again. I am not clueless or a clanging cymbal. I have experience, strength, and hope. I also have boundaries. I wont believe something or follow something just because everyone else is. I insist on reality and honesty. I desire relationship with authenticity.

and then I clicked the third time…

 
Leave a comment

Posted by on May 31, 2015 in journey, life

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

are you dead, or just sleeping

Its a Dead Mans Party…who could ask for more?

I have been all worked up about the small groups I go to. It seems to me that the job is to share experience, strength and hope. You tell about who you were, what happened and what you are like now. Its really simple. However, I have been going to groups that allow for more of a group counseling approach. I have heard stories about brothers diabetic feet, some 2nd cousin who might or might not have a problem with porn. I have heard more at an hour meeting than I heard all day at work with psychiatric patients. I am a little annoyed.

Its a Dead Mans Party

IT came to me today. The group dynamic lends itself for being a dead mans party. The whole idea of trying to be authentic with your journey beckons to be melo-dramatic. It becomes a competition on who has it the worst. The one upmanship of being downtrodden. It is the idea of stripping away life and allowing for the rebirth. In order to be reborn, you have to die first. You die to who you were. You have the option of being resurrected or resuscitated. You can be fully dead and move onto your new self…resurrected. Or you can hold onto the past and resume how you were-resuscitated back into the same old stale life. You get to live like a zombie. You get to join the dead mans party. You get to leave your body and soul at the door. You are without substance.

Its a Dead Mans Party.

I also had another idea of the dead mans party with relationships. I am scared to death of being in love. I lived my former life behind a mask. I hid from authenticity. I manipulated. I lied. I would tell long stories about how miserable I was, and how I needed someone, to put them in a hero role. I could then be the victim. It manipulated relationship into a duty. I have changed. I see now the only way to resurrection is absolute vulnerability. The concern for me is that vulnerability seems like leaving your body and soul at the door. I feel exposed and transparent. It hurts, like an open wound. If I stay in the mode of fear, I join the dead mans party. I can allow myself to shed the corporeal. I can shed the past. The vulnerability doesn’t have to hurt this bad. It takes practice to be exposed and still live. I want to live. I want to love. Do not resuscitate. I want resurrection.

 
Leave a comment

Posted by on May 29, 2015 in journey, life, Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

 
The Shameful Sheep

shit storms, shame, and stories that make you cringe

What Gives?

Big ideas in a tiny body

28 and Counting...

Instructions for living a life: Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it. -Mary Oliver

extraordinaryappreciator

Wandering in my wondering...

shellbegly91's Blog

A modern business theme

Lessons From the End of a Marriage

the Middle of Healing and the Beginning of a New Marriage

Connecting Dots...to God

Theology in Context

K E R M I T ' S space

Life is JUST RIGHT

Faith, Hope, Love, Serve | Shine Your Light

There is something inside me that has made me new and set me free

Beautiful Life with Cancer

Discovering the Gift

Globe Drifting

Global issues, travel, photography & fashion. Drifting across the globe; the world is my oyster, my oyster through a lens.

Handcuffs Hurt

Dan Madden

brokenchristianheart

This blog reflects the thoughts, feelings and confusion of a christian woman going through a divorce and the thoughts post-divorce.

Chronicles of Jazzmine Bankston

"If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world."-C.S. Lewis

Storyshucker

A blog full of humorous and poignant observations.

Lydia Robbins

Hold on, let me write this down