Dissecting the Deep

I’m an Adele fan.  Who isn’t, right?  And while her song “Rolling in the Deep” has been played and covered to ad nauseum I keep coming back to “we could have had it all…Rolling in the deep.”  What does that mean anyway?  

I have mentioned before that I struggle with repetitive thoughts, again, to ad nauseum.  Well, this is one of the phrases that has been torturing me.  Over and over.  But I think that much of my issue with this one is that I want to define the phrase.  I wonder what she means, and all I can do is redefine it for myself.  So here goes…

Maybe this seems corny.  A song lyric…really?  But many times my inspiration for writing comes from such.  As a musician and a possessor of great ability to recall lyrics of pretty much any song, I find I am sensitive to such things.  “We could have had it all”.  I confess I have thought such things with failed relationships in the past.  But now that I am happily married I realize that having it all is relative to the dream that balloons out over the deficiencies in a relationship.  I think that I have often supplemented what was missing in the reality with what I wanted to exist in the dream.  

When I look at my husband and my relationship with him, I do not expect to have it all…That is an ambiguous phrase and does not apply to the real and meaningful exchange that we enjoy.  As a person who was single for nearly forty years, peppering life with difficult and impossible relationships, I have come to realize that what I thought I wanted was very different from what I truly desire now.  I think that when we compartmentalize, we tend to put book ends on the stories of our lives with others.  No matter the relationship, we cannot have it all, because there will always be something else.  Like the child wanting that one thing so desperately, only do to discover after receiving that one thing, the joy in having it is not nearly so strong as the desire to possess it.  On to the next thing… And so often this is what we do with the people in our lives.  

The American dream perpetuates discontent, because we are continually striving for more in that directive of “pursuing happiness”.   But when are we content with what we have?  When do we adopt the ideology to be “content in all things”?  I’m just wondering, because it seems to me that we set the bar so high for things and people that what we get can never possibly hope to meet the expectation we have applied.  Hmmm.

And what is “rolling in the deep”?  I confess to taking this out of the context of the song.  What is the deep?  Deep to me is the depth of human soul.  There is a depth to my nature, my character, that is tranquil and murky black.  Very few things of this world really touch it much less roll in it.  But there are moments when something touches and impacts me so magnificently that it stirs those deep waters and truly rolls through them like a tide.  When I look at my husband and consider a future without him, my love for him stirs me deeply.  When I consider the wealth of heritage I have in each my siblings and parents, not to mention unconditional love and support, I am stirred down deep.  Those waters roll with emotion so intense that I am often overwhelmed.  And when I experience loss, that deep devastating gouge that occurs when someone beloved leaves, the deep stirs in me, churning with incalculable longing, loneliness, and loss…An ache that cannot be soothed.

So, that is the meaning of “we could have had it all…rolling in the deep”. ..Delusion and depth.    I cannot embrace having it all because it is a surface phrase that cannot be defined no matter how I try to quantify.  It is shallow, naïve, and adolescent.  But rolling in the deep?  Well that is the part of me that houses the essence of who I am where all my emotion springs from. 

Maybe we should focus not so much on having it all but on rolling in the deep…Just a thought.

Blessings,

L

Shedding

Today I met with my Chair person, via phone, and we had a good conversation about how I need to adjust my Chapter One for my dissertation.  It is looking good, and I am hopeful I may be finished with the whole thing by December which would put me two months ahead.  I am so ready to get this done!

So after spending the day working on projects I had planned to complete earlier this summer and feeling guilty about not plunking away at the computer on my dissertation, I felt liberated by my conversation with my professor who encouraged me and patted me on the back whilst kicking me in the butt :)

I am thinking of my extended family today as they had a funeral for my uncle.  Life is so brutal, isn't it?  Every time I think I am used to the waves it hurls, another one sloshes in, and I find I'm breathing in when I should be holding my breath.  I am learning, the older I get, that it is not so much accepting (as I have heard so many say), at least not for me.  It's more about acknowledging that with the great comes the not so great, or the other way round.

In my youth I railed at injustices.  Now, I still rail, but I also think before I act, and I try very hard to look at all aspects before really asserting myself.  And to be honest, much of what I see that bothers me, I have to choose to let go of, because I don't have the energy to fight every little thing.  I also have much more at stake that may be impacted by my actions than I once did.

What I have been reminded of this week as I have pondered the fragility of the human existence, is that we were never meant to endure, at least not over a long period of time, and when I look at my own frailties, I can see that what I cannot change is often a part of my nature dying away or dying off.  I find I tend to grasp when I should be letting go.  And who's to say what we lose of ourselves is not replaced by something better...Like the snake shedding its skin to procure a better fit.

So, that's what I am looking at as I head further into my dissertation and all the things that come with all the different hats I wear.  I am looking at letting go of what is dying in me to make room from what may be emerging.

We shall see...

Blessings,
L

The 21st of August

Today is procrastination day...I guess.  I should be working on the rewrite of my Chapter One for my dissertation.  But, alas, I have been doing everything but for the past couple of hours.  I am awaiting clarification from my Chair on some comments he provided, but mostly I'm just not into it.

Today is the one year anniversary of the passing of one of my dearest friends in high school.  It seems surreal.  And coupled with the death of my uncle this past weekend, I find I am at emotional loose ends today.  So as I sit here staring out my living room window, I find I am longing for something...Something I cannot define.  And is it necessary to define every little thing?  I confess that as a psychologist, I study compulsions and behaviors in others and in me like one does to solve a great mystery.  But I think it is balancing to sometimes just accept I'm in a particular place, experiencing an emotion that I may be unable to define, and that it just is what it is...undefinable.

So I'm going to take a deep breath...Inhale and exhale...And I'm going to do this day in increments with as much grace towards myself and all I am in contact with as possible.  So, here I go...

L

Remember

I do not believe in coincidences.  As a result of that conviction, I cannot discount the intersection of a few things that have occurred recently.  They have culminated in a creative explosion for me, and as a writer, I must embrace the deluge, however painful.  

My uncle passed away this past weekend.  He was a good man, and in a world that struggles with the definition, it is significant that I am able to apply such a label to him.  I know that he no longer suffers, and I have prayed for the ending of his pain.  He leaves a large hole in the fabric of his family, even as he joins his maker and his beloved daughter.   Still, with the knowledge that he no longer suffers, I am saddened, and pain is ever more poignant with the one year anniversary of my school chum, Torrey’s, passing.  I am pushed to a place of reflection, nostalgia, and searing sadness. 

Oh, I know…There are so many blessings, and I will get to counting them, but it is valid to embrace sadness and loss too, for they are just as significant to the human journey as joy and hope, for how can we know one without the other?  So I am lamenting…and there is solace in that.

My baby brother called the other night.  He is a gem.  He has also lost an uncle and, recently, a friend he was in the Marines with.  We discussed loss and how it impacts us; the ashy trail it tends to leave behind.  But as with burn off in the wilderness, ashy remains are fodder for new growth, and painful or no, against our will and deepest desires, we grow through loss.  

Time is another agent in our life process.  So often time is the culprit of our losing memories and faces of who and what has been monumental in our lives.  I know that I have lost so much due to mental illness in terms of being able to recall moments in my past, and that is aside from aging and forgetting.  I have felt guilty for having so many significant relationships that have evaporated as time and geography have created spaces between them and me. 

I have been thinking of my brother’s expressed concerns about not remembering what is important, and I have decided that it is what is of value that should be remembered.  It is not the names, faces, places, and experiences that are of most value.  It is the knowing that there was someone who had a providential impact.  It is knowing that no matter how things are now there has been an imprint made, and I can only hope that my presence in someone else’s life does the same whether or not they remember my face or name.  

Maybe it is a sign of age to be settled more with what I cannot recall as much as with what I can.  I suppose this may not seem a big deal…until you lose someone.  Then you hope you have done them justice by remembering them well, by giving credit where it is due, and by truly acknowledging to self if to no one else we are an imperfect organism, falling short in so many areas that we really should not.

When I lived with my parents in Montana, I used to do a lot of gardening.  One day I happened to look up.  It was a perfectly calm day, but as I looked up I saw a piece of paper floating along.  It was the size of a piece of notebook paper, and it was floating, whirling, and flipping against a cloudless azure blue sky.  I stood there watching it for some time as it climbed higher and higher with seemingly no breeze at all to propel it, until it was so high I could no longer see it.  I’ve no idea how long I stood there watching it.  Where did it come from?  How could it be thrown about like being tossed on waves at sea, while everything else was so calm? (Yes, I do know the science behind such an experience, but to see such a thing was just odd). 

I was struck by the correlation between that piece of paper and the human condition.  So often we are in the “slough of despair”, being tossed about by the tragedies in life, while the rest of the world seems to be calm and resolute.  I have been that piece of paper so many times, wondering what direction I was headed and why I seemed to be the only one caught in the wind tunnel of diversity.  I have no answers that aren’t glib, but I do know that grace, hope, and faith have been both antecedent and succedent  to my ride on the wind.  Usually I don’t appreciate the trio and their impact on me, but I know that I have weathered every height and depth as a result of their presence.  Mostly I have learned not to rail but to accept.  My cynical perspective is softened.  

I cannot change what is, but I will endeavor to uphold the heritage that my uncle helped to create, and I will strive to be, in my own life, what Torrey was in hers.  I know my brother will uphold his heritage as he raises his baby daughter, stepping over his pride and personal desires to ensure what is best for his family, because that is the kind of man he is, and I know he will honor the faith his friend placed in him by putting forth his brave heart in everyday life, as he did when he was at war.

We will honor those we have lost by living better lives as is the benefit of the contribution they have made to us, because anything else would further cement the ideology that we truly do not remember them at all. 

Blessings,

L

Ah Mania!

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Ah mania!  After so many years on medication, it is a shadow of its former self, the dregs of irascible and invasive behaviors resultant of repetitive thoughts and impulsivity.  I apply a steely grip in June and do not release until the reins disintegrate into the gray ashes of depression in September.  After years of being overmedicated with invasive and often physically damaging medications, I decided in year, oh I don’t know, 15 (?) that I was not going to spend my life suppressing every reaction.  Anxiety medication for agoraphobia, medication for panic attacks, antidepressants, and the ever necessary mood stabilizer.  I decided that with an IQ the north end of brilliant, the iron will that comes naturally from heredity, and the knowledge that if Abba is for me, nothing can ever truly defeat me, I was going to find another way.  

So I spent time simplifying my life, really tamping down on what I put into my mind, and I drew trenches around my life that would serve as protectors, and I slowly forced myself back out into the world, overriding the terrifying world distorted by severe agoraphobia.  I experimented with doses and eventually cut my lithium down by half.  I have now been on a third the dose of lithium I was on for four years now.  I rarely take meds for panic attacks, though I still have them.  And I fight the agoraphobia every day, especially after going somewhere new and spending a lot of time being social.  But the difference now is that I have given myself permission to malfunction for a time.  I go to spend time with family, I allow myself a few weeks of not leaving the house afterwards.  But then I make myself get back on the horse and go out the door.  The first steps to the driveway and into the car are the worst.  Breathing increases, I hear my blood in my ears, I begin to sweat, and my mouth is dry.  My stomach is a ball of acid my senses heighten to the point of combustion.

But then I get in the car, start it, and I remember, “I have conquered this so many times.  It’s just one more time.”  Slowly I work my way back.   And with mania there are the repetitive thoughts that are incessant 24/7.  There are thoughts of impulsivity that would propel me towards the destructive.  And always I am hanging on tightly, allowing the circus to play in the theater of my mind but willing it to stay there.  Sleep is essential, as I am not only controlling mental chaos, but I am functioning at an optimum intellectual level in working on my doctorate.  And there are relationships I have know for a lifetime that I have learned to trust in and just let live.  

As I get older, the two illnesses are like aching bones, acting up when the weather is inclement.  It is not every day, but when I feel them acting up, I look to my faith, because it is the rope that hauls me through everything.  I cherish the love of my family who are more precious to me now than ever before, and I revel in the fact that I have a man who loves me, believes in me, and is so there to catch me when I trip. 

What I have decided is that it’s not about how well I conquer but how gracefully I move with these things that are uninvited contributions to my life.  I have spent so much time fighting, being a warrior, and I still am, but these days I am more interested in wisdom in living with, loving through, and being who I am with all my flaws and idiosyncrasies.  The lesson here is to do the same for others as well, and that is the blessing in my life.  When I let go of what I think should be and just accept what is, I am so richly rewarded.  I love deeper, experience more, and appreciate better. 

Blessings,

L

Bucket of Paint and a Brush

Well the painting is done!  It looks better than I had anticipated.  I am in the process of putting things back together and have to get window treatments, but I'm actually okay with the color and I think Chris is too.  It goes well with our flooring and bedding, so I'm going with it for now.  It's just so nice to have it finished! 

I am looking into shelving.  Our house is small with not a lot of storage, so I am looking for a way to use the space up high where we don't put pictures.  I have a lot of dolls in storage I would like to get out and put on display.  So there is that part of the "project house" that I'm still pondering. 

I'm just amazed at what a bucket of paint and a brush can accomplish.  It makes everything feel fresh and new.  Too bad life isn't so much that way.  When things are stale or just plain a mess, there really is nothing to slap on it all to make it shiny new.  One really has to move through the process of decluttering and altering a life to make it better, and it's much more complicated than a bucket of paint and a brush! 

We are making plans for the future, wondering which road we will take in the next couple of years.  So many options, and contrary to what is often said, lots of options are sometimes as bad as no options, but we are in a place that is far enough back that we do not have to make immediate decisions, and it is nice to look at different possibilities for the future.  Lots of big things on the horizon, but for now I'm rejoicing in having finished my project with my bucket of paint and brush :)

L

A Tale of Three Terriers

This is Dexter.  As I have shared before he is a little westie doggie, and for once, in this picture, he is clean!

THIS little bundle of joy is Patch...See any similarities?  My folks got a little westie, so it is "show and tell time"...

This is little Patch all tuckered out...

And THIS is my little Dexter dog all tuckered out.  Hmmm.  Maybe it's a westie thing...?

This is Oliver keeping watch over Patch while he sleeps like a little bat...Ollie is a very special dog.  He is a Westcott or Scoland terrier, and when Mom, Dad, and I moved to Wyoming he saved our sanity.  I have shared this before but when we moved we had a little yorkie/shizu named Cooper.  Almost immediately after we moved in he was killed by the neighbors two dogs.  It was pretty horrible.  Worried that we would have such a terrible memory of our new house, I went on the hunt for a puppy-one that was different than Cooper so as not to try to replicate...And this is what I found.

I love Ollie...He saved us in many ways, and he is so smart, stubborn, and strong.  Mom and Dad added Patch as a little friend for Ollie, and they enjoy one another...

both playing...

AND napping!

As for little Dexter dog...Well...

He has this lovely lass, Dixie

...And when she's busy...

He has me.  :) 

The end :)

L

Homecoming

Well I was aiming to post every day on this blog...But vacation put an end to that.  I had the best of intentions for time set aside to blog while I was away, but in my heart of hearts I knew better.  There just isn't enough time when one is away, especially when visiting family. 

We drove from Rapid City on Thursday night and spent the night in Casper so Chris could take his boys out for breakfast the next morning (they are spending the summer with their mother).  We drove on to Riverton on Friday morning and stayed until Monday morning.  It was nice to be able to see family, and to go to church in Kinnear on Sunday morning. Chris even managed to not be too overwhelmed with it all!

I think that one knows they have made a transition or have adapted to a change when what is familiar becomes less desirable then the new environment.  I loved being "home", but I discovered I was looking forward to getting back to Rapid.  It was nice to have my own space, my own bed, and my own little doggies running around, but more than any of that, it was the sense of "fit" that I found myself wanting.  I think that my relief at stepping through our front door was an indication that I am adapting just fine to my new surroundings. 

The above picture is my my favorite guy and me.  He hurt his back yesterday, and after stepping over the thresh hold with my relief at being able to do so, I found myself in the ER with my hubby as they pumped lots of good drugs into him...and I found myself on the couch to ensure we both got some sleep...Ah well, all homecomings are not always picture book. 

L

40

Well I'm officially 40...Now what?  They say 40 is the new 30...Someone was in some serious denial when he or she came up with that one.  But, I'm okay with 40 being 40.  I'm okay with letting the past go, having taken all from it I can, I'm willing to throw out the husk and move one. 

Chris and I have been making our way to Riverton for the weekend, and yesterday as we were talking as we embraced tho open road and freedom from the daily grind, it dawned on me that the thing I have gained through simply aging ever year to this point is perspective.  I am a person who tends to live in the moment, but what I have discovered is that I now look forward a bit in my decisions.  I tend to pause before jumping in, and I reflect on things much more seamlessly than I once did.  I think that wisdom is comprised of so many things and can be added to with living.

I am not interested in living backward.  My 30's served their purpose, but I am happy to be in my 40's, moving through another aspect of life and all that it entails.  God grant me the grace for whatever comes my way. 

L

Homeward Bound

It will always be home...But contrary to the saying, it is not where my heart is.  My heart is with Chris in this new life we are building together.  I cannot say that where we live now is home to me...It is still too new, and I am busy trying to add bits of myself so that every time I come back to it I recognize it.

Tomorrow I officially turn 40.  I have been living on the edge of it for a while now, but tomorrow is the official date and time.  It is fitting then that we take a long weekend and go back to Riverton to spend some time with my folks.  I haven't been back since April, and I am looking forward to the visit.  I have no anxieties about it except that my husband will not enjoy himself, but I am certain my dad will keep him from getting too bored, as boredom is a disease avoided at all costs in my family.

I am busy wrapping things up today, getting ready to take our dogs to a place we like to leave them when we go away.  We trust them, and they care about the animals they take care of...plus the price is right...So just a few more things....laundry and the rest of a paper to finish for my doctoral class...and I will be ready.  It will be nice to get out of town for a bit.  Chris has been on call a lot this summer, so we have been staying close to home.

Nothing lofty to add today...Just busy living.

L

Violet Paint

Today I began plans to paint my bedroom.  Well, I slapped a bit of paint on the wall to see if it would have the effect I had hoped for.  It didn't.  So now what?  My husband is choosing denial over the pinkish color now staining a part of our bedroom wall...and I am inclined that direction as well.

I could come up with a deeper meaning here...What I often think will happen, or what I think will happen often turns out or looks quite different once it is put up on the wall to see.  And what happens when the road taken is turns out to not be quite the result expected?  After all, much of life does not go quite the way we expect doesn't it?  And is that a bad thing? 

For my part, I am glad the "paint" hasn't been quite what I expected.  The results have manifested in me a greater person, one less selfish and more able to empathize with others.  And while my original dreams have not necessarily created the life I had imagined, I am richer in so many ways for the deviation.  

I am not sure what to do about the pink walls...Well, they are actually a purple, lavender, violet color.  But I am going to go with it...See what an entire wall looks like with the trim painted the way I want...And we shall see.  A lesson for life?  Maybe...I am waiting on some of the plans I have painted to finish up...And then, yes, we shall see.
L

Clarity

Well here I am in my new glasses.  Amazing how much clearer everything is.  We went to see the new Harry Potter movie last night, and for the first time I did not leave the theater with a headache.  Who knew?!

As I was driving back from picking up my new glasses the other day, I was thinking about how easy it is to accept something and continue on with life.  I mean, my vision has been an issue for a while now.  Things started to get fuzzy, and then one day I couldn't read bottle labels very well, but I just moved on with it...coping.  Now, I suddenly have clarity.  There is no fuzziness, and I can read labels.  My sight is much as it was before middle age took me hostage.  I wonder what other things I have let get out of focus?  I wonder what else I am just coping with when I could rather easily get back to clarity with a bit of assistance? 

It is very easy to move along with life accepting by denial that which makes life less clear.  It is funny how we have movie clarity increasing by using HD and Blue Ray, but are we not always clarity is life is sometimes ignored.  I think I sometimes allow too much distraction that interferes with perception of my life.  I sometimes do not see my relationships with others clearly because I am sloppily living from surface emotion rather than truly paying attention to intuition and discernment that are both easily within grasp. 

So my reframe for every time I put on my new glasses will not be a reminder that I am getting older.  It will be a reminder that I am putting on clarity for sight in body and spirit.

L

Fractious 40

This is my favorite pool player.  Doesn't he look like he means business?  And he does!  He is rather good at the game.  I, on the the other hand, am not so much.  The imbalance is okay.  I go as a middle aged cheerleader with a Diet Pepsi in one hand and my fascination for people watching in the other.

I would like to get better at the game.  I think it is good that we have things in common we like to do, and I could get better at the game if I applied myself a bit more.  I just don't apply myself.  That is unlike me.  Generally when I invest in doing something I do it the best I can, but I find the predominant emotion I experience lately, doing most anything, is frustration.  And that impedes my ability to enjoy.  It's too hot, there are too many people, I'm tired, I'm hungry, I'm too full...You name it and it's what I'm heralding as a reason for my frustration.

True, I have bipolar, and it would naive of me to think I have gone through all the changes I have undergone of late without any noise from the insanity section of my world.  I don't know, maybe I am just this fractious person who can't seem to settle, to find any comfort, and who cannot focus long enough to play a game of friggin' pool!

The new 8 Ball season starts this fall, and I am wanted on a team, thanks to my hubby's cousin, who is more like a brother in law than a cousin to me.  But as things go, I know there are balls on the table, that they are supposed to STAY on the table or go into the holes.  I know how to hold the cue stick, though my chest seems to impede good form, and I'm supposed to always hit the white ball first.  I cannot say that I have smoothly transitioned through all those prerequisites with any level of success, really.


So, I have to ask myself what it is that I'm really wanting to do.  I have always been a hobby person.  I take after my dad in that I have to produce.  I like to work with my hands, so in theory, pool should be right up my alley (pardon the bowling metaphor...I do know the difference between the two games).  Time (and practice) will tell if I am able to learn enough to be on a team.  My big concern through all of this is that I don't seem to want to do anything much, and I'm really bitchy a majority of the time so I can't blame it on pms...Well I can, but is that really fair?


I am off to the chiropractor who I'm hopeful will eliminate some of the chronic pain I experience with a ruptured disc and a neck that tends to bend the wrong direction due to too much time working on the computer.  On the way home I shall stop to see if my new glasses are ready so I can see where I am going and who exactly I am going with.  Maybe as I am collecting pieces for improved health there is something I can attach that will help me play pool better...Or maybe the glasses will help.  Either way, this 40 thing is not bringing out the graceful aspects of my nature...See how I did that...I just blamed it all on 40...Perfect!


L

Beauty and Stillness

I read an article in Ladies Home Journal today.  The article interviewed three women--Dana Delaney, Julie Bowen, and Emily Deschanel.  Dana Delaney who is 55 (if you can believe it...I remember when she was on China Beach) said something I sort of grabbed onto.  When asked to define what real beauty is for her she responded with, "The older I get, the more I find beauty is stillness". 


I like that.  She went on to say that she takes time to sit and be still in a world of too much conversation and too many distractions, she works to take time to be still.  I think she has something there.  In my professional world, I would call it being mindful.  I think I don't do enough of that.  I think that I need to do more of that.  I want to take time to just BE.  There is nothing wrong with that, especially when the majority of one's day is spent reacting to environmental stimulus. 

I think that as a writer I take a good amount of  time to pay attention to what is going on internally with me, and I understand the value of stillness, having had the worth of the practice addressed again and again in my psychological training.  I had just never attached beauty to the practice.  But I think I will now.

Beauty is being still. 

As I get older I find I am more able to be still.  Giving myself permission to just sit in a spot, in the quiet, even for a few minutes, without any stimulation that requires my immediate attention is so fulfilling, centering, and somewhat decadent. 

Some people are afraid to be still with their thoughts, afraid of what might come up.  I understand that.  I have been that way.  But I find the better I know myself the more willing I am to pop the top and allow what is under the surface up for some air and light.

If stillness is part of beauty, I want a piece of it.  Take a few minutes to be still today.  Look out the window, at a picture, or just close your eyes.  And ENJOY the sensation.

L

My Angel

Did you know that everyone has an angel or two in their lives?  Well here is one of mine.  I didn't ask for permission to use this picture, but she is my sister so I circumvent such things.  Angel is extraordinary, a one of a kind beautiful being.  She has been on my mind much lately, and I have been neglectful in communication, so I'm blogging about her.

Part of aging is knowing that you have people in your life who love you no matte what.  I wrote a blog on my http://www.everydayhealth.com/blogs/livemental/the-corner-or-the-ring blog about having someone in your corner, people who are willing to give you tough love when you need it and tenderness what you gotta have it.  Well, Angel is one of the people in my corner, and I am in hers.

We met over ten years ago in a hopping little salon where we both worked.  I found her so fun; you know, one of those people who can make a trip to Kwik Trip for a pop a national holiday.  We have been through thick and thin ever since.  There was a period of time when we lost track of one another through life decisions and issues I won't confess here, but when we picked back up it was as if nothing, not a day had gone by where we weren't in each other's lives.  That's when you know you have something special.

Angel has recently lost someone very dear to her, and in the midst of her loss I was celebrating a marriage and a new life.  It is really the first time the two of has have had diametrically opposed situations where we have not been able to be aggressively involved in each other's experience.  I don't like that that happened, and I know she celebrated for me during her hurt, and I mourned for her in the midst of my joy, it just wasn't that close communication we have always had, and it just wasn't possible to actively participate.

Life is tough for my little Angel right now.  The struggle with economic issues, family, and grieving, I know is weighing in heavily.  But she is one of the strongest women I know, and she relies on Abba for her strength, so I know she will make it.  Still, I miss her.  I miss our chats, they are a shot in the arm for us both I think. 

I took time today.  I stopped what I was doing and thinking, and I called her.  It was a quick conversation, packed with lots of info, but I am so glad I did it.  I confess, I am not good about staying in touch with loved ones when I am in the midst of change.  Maybe it is the introvert part of me, but I have to pull back from everyone for equilibration.  That is not a bad thing, but the problem is that it is too easy to get in a habit of NOT keeping in contact.  I have done it with too many people in the past, and I have hurt them, I know.  So, I'm working on not doing that. 

I am sure I will make new friends in my new home, but I have the ones I have for a reason.  They are golden, and I don't want to replace them for anyone else, so I'm going to be working of staying in touch, starting with the angel in my life.

L

Painting in the Dark

Inspired by my overhaul of the house, my husband decided the trim and garage doors outside the house should be repainted as well.  This was supposed to be a simple project with a bit of sanding and then repainting.  Uh, right.

There is a nice little pole that attaches the awning to a section of brick right outside our front door.  He decided to start there...Several hours later he had finally scraped off four layers of paint using several methods to get to that point.  At around nine last night we were painting the pole, part of the awning and the garage door.  I cautiously mentioned that painting the garage door in the dark might not render the results we were looking for but at that point he was primed to "get 'er done".

Today we marveled at the results of painting in the dark.  Unique.  My husband smiled wryly and said, "Hey this could be a country song...'Paintin' in the Dark'.   It could also be a metaphor...Marriage is like painting in the dark...It looks pretty good, but in the morning you end up thinking you better just start over."  Of course he used his best hillbilly accent with a big grin...I laughed.  Then sobered...Surely he couldn't mean OUR marriage?!  The man does make me laugh.

I think that humor is so valuable in life.  I truly believe that if you can inject a bit of humor into life, it makes it so much easier to move through things.  That is not to say that you find that which is heavy or grievous funny.   I just mean that staying open for something that can make you smile helps so much to get one through the heavy and stressful moments in life.  I am learning to laugh more.  I am learning to lighten up and smile more, often at the sheer irony of things.  An example?  When my husband drives by with his buddy from work to show off the white pole he painted outside the house rather than the whole interior of the house I just recently finished painting.  Now THAT is humorous.

L

Fighting Fair

What do you get when you put two individuals of Irish decent (one of which is also German...and that would be me), a hot topic, and the love of verbal conflagration (a large destructive fire, which is perfect for this scenario)?  Answer:  Chris and Lael.

I don't actually enjoy arguing.  I find it a waste of time and rather frustrating.  My husband, on the other hand, loves to argue for the sake of arguing...until it gets fractious.  But sometimes it is necessary to go after a topic and pursue it until it has been beaten to death (the topic that is...not either of the participants).  I have learned over the years, in the intellectual academic circles I have run in, how to argue in a detached manner.  And psychology has trained me wonderfully to turn situations around to my advantage by continually throwing an attack right back at the other person in the form of a question.  I have a quick mind and easy access to a rather large repertoire of vocabulary, so I generally stay neutral in an argument while probing the other person's ideologies.

BUT...It is not the same with one's husband...At least not with mine.  There is this need to allow the other person to really know you, to know how you feel about a topic, and whether logical or not, there is a desire that you and that one you love are on the same page about things, so when you are not, well, at least for me, I find I'm rather passionate in my presentation. 

I have learned over the years that my ability to level a field is rather significant and a really bad idea, because it creates enemies and hurts people, so I have constructed boundaries that exist to keep me from saying that one thing I cannot take back. When fighting with a loved one there has to be rules.  There has to be a line drawn that both parties refuse to cross.  Because even though, "I'm sorry" will cover much, it does not take back that one thing that was said by the person who loves us and knows our weak point and what we most dislike about ourselves. 

Personally, I believe fighting fair is a learned thing, and I also believe that fighting is part of a healthy relationship.  We have too many passive-aggressive people in our society who have never learned that fighting does not make a person bad, it makes them significant.  What I mean by that is that when you are willing to fight for something you believe in, and fight fair, your stance and beliefs become significant as does your place in the world, and there is no place for manipulation which is so deadly to relationships.

I am learning how to fight with my husband.  One has to consider personality and background because they certainly have an impact.  Both of us are intelligent, hotblooded, and stubborn, though I would admit to being much more animated than he when putting my point across. I blow hot very quickly about things (I'm blaming it on the German) and am over it rather quickly.  I'm like a volcano that has to periodically spout off.  He tends to be more like a pressure cooker, building and building until one day he just explodes.

I am learning that he is only deaf when it comes to everyday things, but in a fight situation his hearing become quite acute,  and suddenly most everything I say becomes yelling to him.  It's a mystery to me how that happens, but I'm going to become a verbal fight ninja, implementing my side of the argument with a whisper.  I'm not sure what his strategy will be but I am certainly interested to find out!

I was thinking about this topic yesterday as I was running some errands.  What I decided was that at 40 years old we are both very much shaped by what has come our way in life, and that is a good thing. We do not tend to waffle on beliefs, because we have had time to test drive them.  We are secure in who we are, having spent some time throwing out what we don't want and hanging on to what we do.  I believe that keeping an open mind to the other person's perceptions and stances on matters is valuable, because if you can't entertain ideologies from the person you are closest to, how will you ever stretch?  My husband challenges me to think and to be a better person.  That does not mean I change what I believe and go with what he does.  What it forces me to do is to reassess what I believe to make sure it IS what I really believe.  And I so appreciate that he is able to challenge me in that way.