10 or so paragraphs

Hi; It’s me!

Yeah, it’s been a while, and I’ve been trying to put words to why that is, but the words aren’t coming. Yet, I must write. 

So far, 2017 hasn’t been a lot different from 2016. Hubby’s still employed, I’m working (2 part-time jobs), and the boy hates school. Nothing much has changed…and yet, some things have. 

I’ve been wanting to work on getting off of the antidepressants for a while, and apparently that time hasn’t arrived. As I sit here I think I am probably due for an increase.  

I haven’t gotten to get to any meetings to speak of, since I work so much on the weekend that by the time I get off (MAYBE) in time for Celebrate Recovery, I just want to get home and eat and then to bed. However, there are moments, too, when I think I’m squarely where I’m supposed to be, for now, even without gettign to church or meetings FOR NOW.

 I mean, I’m working at a “Home Improvement” store in the outside garden area on the weekends, and this week I begin my other part-time gig at the newly expanded Detox in a large town nearby. For the last 3 weeks, I’ve been in training M-Th, and the last 2 were spent earning a certificate that says I’ve been trained as a Peer Recovery Specialist! I’m only going to get 15 hours there, at the moment, but I am hopeful that it will turn into fulltime soon. 

I’ve been thinking about the impermanence in my life, lately, too… Why am I so used to letting go, of people, places, things, jobs, pets…? I don’t expect much of anything to last, really. It seems like that’s a symptom of PTSD, but I’m not sure. I notice the difference when I interact with folks who are more or less my age, and they’ve always lived within 100 miles of where they were born. They married once and  now,  20-30 years later, they have a family and are still happily wed. When someone talks about working in the same place for over 5 years, I get kind of lost. When they say 15-20-30 years, and they’re MY AGE, I just can’t wrap my head around it. 

 Anyway, I’m enjoying the people I work with at the Home Improvement store, and the customers are nice, too. The only real downside is that the lifting and loading of 20-50 pound bags of mulch, patio stones, and etc is making it difficult to ignore the scoliosis and the pain in my back. Being outside most of the day is good for me, I’m sure. I can’t remember the last time I was outside as much as I am there, and I like it! The flowers are all in bloom and the nursery is FULL, and I love seeing the incredible array of colors and shapes. The flowers range from the size of a pencil eraser to as big around as a softball, and the scent is almost intoxicatingly beautiful. Then there are the birds. 🙂

So, I think the problem I’ve had recently, which honestly began months ago, is that my insecurities about myself lead me to (or are caused by?) compare myself to others, and guess what? Yes, you’re right. They ALWAYS come out better than me. 

I have loved to people-watch since I was a teenager. Now I watch people to see how things are “supposed” to be done, like hair, clothes, makeup, social cues. I think it goes back to the idea of being a Pilgrim in this world that influences me to not get attached to trends, or celebrities, or…what have you. Does that make any sense? 

I’ve only begun trying to wear make-up again for the last yearr or so, after about a 25-year hiatus. Geez, the last time I looked in the mirror that often, there were NONE of the lines & wrinkles I see now. I am grateful to have lived this long, but I don’t know how I feel about AGING. 

So. That’s a lot of why I have been quiet of late. I don’t feel like I have anything encouraging or positive to say, so I stay quiet. Is that another result of the Social Media world – only showing our happy, and “UP” side? I know if I looked at most everyone’s Facebook pictures, I’d swear noone else has ever been depressed. I know that’s not the truth. Maybe a hiatus from FB/Twitter would do me good. I expect I’ll have some things to write about in the coming weeks…but for now, I’m just gonna keep on “working out my own salvation”, and see where He leads me next. 

I hope your Spring is bright and sunny. Here’s a picture of something from the Garden Center.  

My head is spinning, but not like Linda Blair’s

I was told somewhere, long ago, that while God’s timing may seemingly take FOREVER, once it comes, things can move into place swiftly. As I get older it feels like I am more able to catch a glimpse of His hand moving the chess pieces, occasionally. And they have been sliding into place pretty quickly.

I’m not sure what He’s up to, but my life has taught me that His promises are true, and that my part for now is just to “be still and know.” Or, as I’ve seen it put:

Be still and know that I am God. 

Be still and know that I Am.

Be still and know that I.

Be still and know that. 

Be still and know.

Be still and.

Be still. 

Be. 
I haven’t been writing much recently, primarily because…Well, because I’ve been taking a lot of things in, and processing. You know, figuring out what MY part is in things, and looking for the good while still addressing the wrongs in my life. 

Yesterday I believe I found a door that’s about to open for me, and this morning I learned of another door closing. It’s not difficult to accept the door that’s closed, as it had become an unusually unpleasant situation in recent times, and I’d talked to God about whether I could just GO. 

Anyways. This morning I got the news about the door closing and just moments later got about 4″ closer to a concrete post than I’d meant to. With my Element. It was pretty loud, and I’m grateful that it wasn’t any worse than it was. 

So, I guess I’m telling you that things in wondrland are moving right along.

I’m trying to make sure the seatbelt is locked and keep my hands inside while the ride is still moving. 

I’d love to hear about how things are progressing in your world! What helps you when you feel like Gilligan in the Minnow during that awful storm? 

Blessings from the Victorian house on the hill. 

Twist Cap to Vent

I’m pretty sure that anything that I experience can, in one way or another, serve to teach me something. Sometimes it’s several things. 

Really, each friend, each teacher, each intimate relationship, even work relationships have taught me a lesson, or lessons. One taught me that I was not what the abusers and bullies said I was. I was delightful and loveable. 

A few of my childhood friendships taught me that it was OK to be different, it was OK to be awkward, and I when I began this Recovery journey, many of my associates taught me that I didn’t ever have to be alone, again. 

I’ve had a variety of lessons from co-workers. Usually I learn from them how to better accomplish what the job requires, but during break time, I’ve gotten information on things as diverse as parenting a special needs baby and the best place to get a haircut. 

The last places where I worked taught me about how great it can be to work together with people of different educational levels, different colors, ages, intellectual abilities, and belief systems.I have been blessed to work with many hard working, caring, and dedicated people in the field of Human Services. 

On the other hand, I’ve worked with more than a couple of people who were lazy at best, and apathetic about the health and well-being of the clients, at worst. 

I’ve been confused as to why these people want to do this kind of work, and also why the employers allow them to keep their jobs when their care of the clients can blatantly cross the line into neglect, even when co-workers make multiple reports to their supervisors with nothing done. NOTHING. 

So, I think I’m beginning to get it. I would rather not, but over the last several months I’ve started to see what’s going on.  The employers aren’t able to keep the good workers, due in part to the poor workers getting all the same benefits as those who actually WORK, so they keep the poor workers. The good workers see the neglect and laziness of their co-workers and eventually find work elsewhere, after coming to accept that their own efforts are merely drops of water in a crap-filled bucket.

I know why the poor workers are here: no consequences for their actions, and they get paid for literally looking at their phones for 7-8 hours at a stretch. Heck, if I knew someone else would do all the dirty work, I’d be tempted to take it easy occasionally, too. But that’s not happened, even when the co-worker was given every opportunity to step up, just a little. 

I am presently learning more about God’s will vs. my will. 

I was called a few days before Christmas by a prospective employer, and had an interview set up about 2 weeks later. (2 whole weeks to be nervous, right?!) The day before the interview, I was called & told that it would have to be postponed, due to illness. Oh, OK. God’s will is ALWAYS much slower coming than mine, which isn’t to say that every time something takes forever it’s God’s will, but in this sort of thing, I believe it is. So, I wait to get a call back to set another date. And I wait, and time is creeping by (impatience is a difficult thing to conquer!), and while it totally feels like I waited 3 more weeks,  it’s actually been about a week. 
I FINALLY got a call today to set the interview date! I’m psyched! So, maybe in a couple of days? The start of next week? Oh, heck, naw.

 It’s not for TWO MORE WEEKS!! Sigh.

The title of this post came from something on a laundry soap container at work, while filling up the washer for the 3rd or 4th time in a shift. I looked at the words “Twist Cap to Vent” and my immediate thought was “I could stand to vent! But I don’t have a cap to twist! Reckon this will just have to be blogging goodness.” 

I try not to vent to my incredible husband as much as I feel like it, and there’s not really a lot of other choices, so here it is. 

Do you try to see the lesson in experiences, good or bad? What’s something you’ve  learned recently? 

Written in a group home.

Smart People Take More Drugs

​I wish I could take credit for this piece, but, alas, I can not. However, I was educated by it & think you may be, as well.  

I’ve heard alkie/druggies described in many ways, and smart isn’t usually one of them. There’s a reason why AA has the slogans. For example, “Think think think.” – Sponsor says “That doesn’t apply to you.”

https://www.blvdcenters.org/blog/smarter-people-take-more-drugs

Just don’t drink. Or use, or hurt anyone!

For the last few weeks, I’ve been noticing some more emotions coming up than usual, for me. I mean, the Thanksgiving-to-New Year’s time of year is almost universally difficult for many of us to get through. 

I’ve been thinking of when I was younger, like maybe middle-school age or less, I had a conversation with my Dad in which we talked about me being depressed. I think I’m really not alone in the kind of reaction I received: “You? Depressed? (Laughter) What do you have to be depressed about, little girl?! You have a nice home, food, clothes and 2 parents who love you!” And he wasn’t wrong. But he wasn’t entirely right, either. 

As a very small child I learned to be “PERFECT”, because when I stepped out of line -even accidentally- I was going to pay a painful price. Dad had a hair-trigger temper, and he punished me with his belt when he was ANGRY. I was terrified of his anger my entire life, and even now I have a lot of anxiety when a man raises his voice in anger. 

I later learned that I had had A.D.D., which looks different in girls than in boys. I was called a daydreamer, or space cadet. I got in trouble for talking all the time, and it was next to impossible for me to get all my supplies and homework to where they were supposed to be without forgetting or losing something. 

At the time, these traits just infuriated Dad, because he was sure that I “had to be doing it on purpose”. Then I heard “stupid, lazy, doesn’t pay attention, lazy and doesn’t even try”. 

I was reminded of that situation when I heard recently of a relative of mine, in reference to his teenager being depressed, saying things like Not going to medicate and Counsellors are a waste of money. It really bothered me to hear that, because that kind of thinking has cost far too many people struggling with addiction and/or mental illness their lives. If you see that your child is miserable, with no obvious reasons for it, why wouldn’t you do whatever it took to at least find out WHY? 

News flash: mental illness and addiction are things that our kids are PRE-DISPOSED toward. It’s not an entirely hereditary issue, but it makes the odds of developing addiction/mental illness go up about 100%. It has been proven that children with untreated mental illness are several times more likely to develop a dependancy to drugs or alcohol.  And, p.s., telling someone to “suck it up” or “snap out of it” DOESN’T WORK. 

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Ok, back to the holidays. When I think of Christmas, I think of family get-togethers with lots of food and presents and all the adults getting hammered.  I don’t really remember much about my earliest Christmases, because PTSD. 

I used to have my ideas about what I’d like to happen, memories of what had happened in the past, and fears of how it was more than likely going to turn out, as I walked in the door. I knew what to expect, but not how to protect myself or my sobriety.


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Someone gave me some simple definitions once:

Anger: I’m not getting what I want.

Fear: I might not get what I want.

Resentment: I didn’t get what I wanted.

Those are possibly overly simplistic in this scenario, but they do fit.

Most of us have had unpleasant and difficult childhoods. I’m not trying to put the blame on our parents; they did the best they could. They may have come up in the same kind of dysfunction, or worse. 

The truth of the matter is that we learn the family “script” as children watching how the adults do things. If nothing changes, nothing changes. 

When we get together with old friends or family during the holidays, it may be with apprehension and great reluctance. Nobody knows how to push our buttons like family. Oddly, when we start making positive changes in our lives, those are the folks who may be the most resistant. It’s kind of like the family has a script with everyone’s roles established. Everything goes as usual until someone doesn’t read their lines. 

Or it’s like if you are dancing with a partner and you change dances mid-song. They’re going to want you to go back to the dance that you’d been rehearsing, even if it does look bad and feel worse to the dancers…

Anyway, it’s late and I’ve got to work tomorrow. 

I encourage you, if you’re doing anything tomorrow that gives you that old familiar pain, to plan ahead.

Be sure you have Recovering folks #s on you, don’t forget to pray in the morning and more, and keep your expectations low. Don’t expect yourself to walk through a bunch of drama and come out serene and beaming. Likewise, don’t expect anything from your family that’s not realistic for them. 

If Uncle Frank likes to have spiked eggnog starting at breakfast, then maybe it would be helpful for you to decide how to deal with him before you get to the party. If your Mom feels the need to treat you like a 10-year-old even though you’re 50 and have grown children, it could be a good idea to practice setting boundaries beforehand. And if you know that everyone will be sh*t-faced by 9pm, make your excuse when you arrive, (like I’ve gotta catch a meeting @ 8) and then it won’t seem so abrupt when you bolt out the door. 

Posted from my treehouse in the woods. 

Facebook, I’m breaking up with you.

I don’t remember exactly when we met, but you instantly brought a new dimension to my life. It was like I’d found the perfect conduit for almost anything I wanted to know, and anyone I wanted to connect with. I was in a pretty sad and lonely place when you came along,  and you listened, you gave me bits of encouragement, and you helped me to find my smile again. And I felt much better with you around. You were there to bring old friends back into my life, and you even suggested people that I might like to be introduced to. Slowly but surely, I began to think of you as my go-to for any problem, or just to relieve boredom. I know you thought that all of these things were what I wanted, and for the most part, they were. 

But there was a thought in the back of my mind, nudging me toward things that I used to enjoy. Things that enriched my life and made me the kind of person that I’d only dreamt of becoming. 

Your “helpfulness” weighed on me. Your demands for attention drained me. Sure, you had good qualities, and you still do. But the scales have tipped to the negative, somehow. 

I feel like dealing with you and your incessant need to occupy my every moment has become a larger problem than I want to admit. 

We had some good times, sure, and I appreciate your being there when I needed someone. But I’m cutting the leash. The strings that kept me tied to you are not going to manipulate me any more. I just can’t afford to spend my life keeping up with you. I have responsibilities, and I have a Power much greater than you to answer to. I want to grab ahold of what’s left of my time here. 

I’m breaking up with you, Facebook. I don’t want to see you around. I have no interest in hearing about your escapades. They no longer work for me. Don’t call me. Thanks.