Comfy v. constructive

Three cheers for parents who help nurture in their kids a longing for a constructive, rather than simply comfortable, life!!! Who help their children - of any age - learn how to recognize harmful habits AND turn them around.  Who serve as role models in keeping at a task & who teach - through word & action - that every time we choose & do something that counters lousy habits it leaves an imprint on our brain, so keep moving forward in the better direction, even after a stumble or fall.  Who teach their family that being able to identify the positive & constructive only matters when we have the grit & persistence to make it our own.

Kids raised with those messages, with parents & other adults who model them in real life, have an unimaginable advantage in life.  

 

I don't know how those two words - positive & constructive - came to have such importance to me.  At home & in church & in the parochial schools I attended, the goal was to "see the good," which I interpreted as see ONLY the good.  

To this day, I don't know if that's the message my church & schools intended.  Am absolutely sure "see only the good" was what Mom meant. Time & again, her life would be thrown into chaos because of not being able to simply see what was right in front of her, all of it, good & bad & beyond awful. 

Somehow, "see only the good" got bent into "avoid the harsh, the uncomfortable, the uneasy."  For me, the baby in the family, that evolved into "don't attempt more than you can comfortably achieve."  

Strangely, that didn't set well with me.  Many a time, in elementary school & high school, I'd rail at Mom for offering excuses for my poor performance.  I was never urged to work harder, more effectively, from a clearer focus, with a deeper appreciation of what the teacher was seeking.  And I was too lazy to know & do that for myself.  

Three cheers for parents who get across to their kids that grunt work & slogging through difficult, tough parts are natural parts of getting from one place to a better one.  Who teach their children the importance of first knowing what you don't want to do, then what you do, then how to do it, then doing it.  All the ways, from start to finish.  Who let them know that being comfy is fine when it's a break or the reward at the end of a completed effort, but never in place of rolling up sleeves, knowing the best next step, then taking it.  

 

Still Alyce

Over forty years ago, I wrote an important paper for Mike Brown's Psych 101 course.  I would have been a sophomore at the Academy of the New Church College (now Bryn Athyn College of the New Church).  It was the second important thing I wrote about me myself & I.  

The first was written just after high school graduation, to someone who'd been my first true friend in our junior year.  For reasons totally outside my control, she took a different path in senior year, one that veered away from our connection.  In the letter, I considered both of our natures, thanked her for the friendship, respected where she was & where I was, noted that perhaps one day our paths might intersect again BUT that I wanted her to know how much I appreciated her being, even if they never did.  

Other than in the slightest ways, we've never reconnected over the years.  I know she has no memory of the letter, which isn't surprising.  A LOT was happening in her life.  And its importance was less in her reading & more in my writing.  She would have seen just the words on the front & back of the single sheet of paper.  I still have in my heart all the ones that weren't included & could have been.  

It doesn't wound me, knowing she has no memory of the letter, apparently little memory of a past connection.  She had a lot of friends - I was one of many.   

What made her so unforgettable in my life was the hope she gave that there WERE people out there with whom I could connect at a true soul level.

No one could have foreseen the circumstances that drew us apart.  In my 60s, am pretty amazed at that long ago girl NOT putting it on herself, impressed she could see that it was due to that particular moment in time rather than to her failings.  That's pretty stunning.  It would have felt so good to wallow in self-pity rather than to realize it is what it is.  You go, girl!

Today, building off that distant past letter plus my equally ancient paper - Fantasy in Frustration - written for a junior college Psych 101 class plus my current read & reread of Richard O'Connor's Rewire, am taking a deep dumpster dive down to the deepest level of my being, to the foundational layer of unwavering self respect that was always & forever my unknowing bedrock.

 

How it came to be formed is anyone's guess.  Maybe that's why experiencing a genuine connection in junior year was so important - just by itself - in my life.  Even then, part of me sensed that my family (with the probable exception of my father) was wildly UNconnected - within as well as between, so much so that I grew up thinking it was normal to feel uncomfortable, uneasy with yourself.  That friendship let me know there was something deeper within me, it let me know sharing a deep genuine connection WAS possible.  

That was all I needed.  Ok, that early connection wasn't lasting.  Didn't make it any less genuine.  And twenty years later, that early promise of lasting genuine connection was fully realized when John strolled into my life.  

One of the greatest gifts John brings is how well he tolerates my inner explorations.  Drives a lot of folks bonkers.  My oldest brother once told me, with oversized exasperation, "You always need things spelled out in forty pages!"  He was right.  I do.  I have a driving need to understand, at least as well as I can.  He's right - I dig, I delve, I examine consider dissect, always remembering that what I discover might be right or it might not, but it's the best I can do at the time.  Know what I know, but hold the reins free.

Maybe that's how I felt about that long ago but still treasured friendship.  I could let it be what it was because of honoring it & holding it with a light rein. 

I'm doing my inner deep dump dive as a way of honoring everything that has brought me to this spectacular moment in time.  It might take forty pages, it might be less or considerably more.  I'm sure to come up with lots of trash & quite a bit of garbage, but there will be treasures in there, pieces waiting to taken out of still-sealed boxes or needing some sanding & refurbishing.  We shall see what we shall see.  

As for that long-ago dear friend?  She turned out pretty much exactly as I expected, years full of adventures, highs & lows that enriched herself & others, and - in her here & now - apparently having the time of her life.  

Here's to you, dear friend - friendship is indeed a sheltering tree & I still feel the blessings of being nurtured under your branches.

 

Unexpected illumination

That experience just over a week ago on a super dangerous stretch of Fettersmill Road turned out to be surprisingly illuminating.

For 26 years, there are aspects of my Keet that drive me nuts AND that I somehow expect to just go away.  How different it is to realize, "Hey, it drives me nuts & it's how he is."  He's not going to wake up one day feeling, "It's important to be curious & delving."  He's not going to wake up with both physical & emotional peripheral vision. He's not going to wake up with all the instincts & awarenesses born of taking care of little kids all his life.  

He's going to wake up being JOHN, and that's good enough for me.

Discussion stopper

This afternoon, I had to turn out one of the most terrifying, dangerous driveways in the universe - the one leading onto Fettersmill from Erik & Anne Buss' house.  Thank goodness John was there to spot traffic for me, so I could exit without a potential accident (the afternoon sun made the mirror showing the other approaches virtually worthless).  

The car was still in a spectacularly precarious position - for my safety & other cars'.  A car was headed down the driveway I was blocking, a car was coming up fast on my rear & another was headed up the other side, both cars blind to the other.  The car coming behind me decided to swing around, because he had no idea that I would be pulling out as soon as John swung into the passenger's side.

And John was sauntering toward the car, not excuding any sense of urgency.  HE  HAD  NO  SENSE  OF  THE  DANGER  OF  THE  SITUATION.  When I shouted for him to hustle, he did - for about 20 seconds, if that, before returning to his previous saunter.  He didn't indicated to the driver to wait, that we would be pulling out momentarily.  His body language didn't convey any sense of hustle.  

So the car pulled around me, right into the path of the oncoming car, on a narrow road.  If the car pulled to its left, it would hit me. There was virtually no shoulder to pull onto on the right.  By the grace of God, an accident was averted.  

For the second time within less than 24 hours, I was presented with the realization that John is oblivious - to what's going on, to what he should be doing, to what others might do.  When he got in the car, I asked why he slowed down.  We talked about it for a bit, about how the whole scenario hadn't registered, how he only ran after I shouted to hustle, but then slowed down. 

My guess is the conversation got too uncomfortable for him, because he - after discussing the situation for several minutes - came out with, "I didn't hear what you said.  I heard a word, but not 'Hustle!'"  

Ya can't hold a person responsible when he hear what you said.  Can't.

End of discussion.

What drives me NUTZ

What drives me nuts isn't asking John - clearly, concisely, with apparent understanding & agreement from him - to do something, only to have it go undone.  It's that he gets so WOUNDED at the possibility he doesn't listen to me.  What gets under my skin is having to experience the outcome AND him being aggrieved at the possibility he'd tuned me out.  

What drives me nuts isn't the subsequent feelings of hurt & (admittedly) often irrational irritation over being thus majorly blown off.  It's when he tells me, after hearing how that is so frustrating because he can never change what he never owns, "Don't feel that way."  Don't feel distressed because you're often ignored & then I refuse to see the consistent dynamic underneath the ignoring - just don't feel that way.  The way I experience it - or, as Brene Brown would say, the story I make around that particular response - is him saying, "I don't want to deal with the exasperation & hurt you feel over my inability to ponder the why behind my actions, dooming you to having to go over it over & over & over because you can't change what you can't see, so please stop feeling that way."  My story is that his "concern" harks back to him, not to feelings of regret over my response.

What drives me nuts is when John can see that we have a problem rooted in something he does, then expects me to come up with his solution.  First off, he inability to step back to look at the why behind stuff he does isn't my issue - if it's anybodies', it's his.  And if it's not his - it sure feels like it's not - then it isn't anyone's.  Look around our house - how many books are there are personal family community dynamics?  Dozens.  Because knowing my why or other's potential whys has been important to me for all of my life.  It's just not important to John.  I get that.  Different strokes... But it drives me nuts when he insists it is, insists he's emotionally invested in figuring out motivations when what I see is someone who doesn't want to be inflicted with my drama, but even more doesn't want to be inconvenienced.  I get that.  Thus it has always been, from our earliest days.  I got it, telling him over 25 years ago that he'd do ANYTHING for me - as long as it was convenient.  I'd now add, as long as it didn't put him out, didn't discomfort or make him feel icky. 

Once again, praise be for Kevyn Malloy, who explained to us over ten years ago that a major problem women have with me is when the guys SEEM to be listening to us, when they reinforce back to us that they've heard & processed & understand something we're asking of them - except they really haven't.  Then they feel blind-sided confronted with a distressed female spouting off frustration over it not being done.  It's a guy thing - I get that.  But John refuses to even go there.  Which means I get to experience the same scenario in a different guise over & over & over.

For years, John's asked me for suggestions on ways to improve the situation.  As mentioned earlier, I usually don't, because what's a good method for me could fall flat for him.  

When we sent to see Kim Vargas, I did all the talking, while he sat there.  Shouldn't have been unexpected - he has no curiosity about the roots of his aaarrrgggghhhh behaviors.  He went.  Engage?  Participate?  Gain any insights that he could remember & work on?  Nope.

When I gave him a book that had been unusually helpful to me, that considered personal dynamics in the context of other relationships - partner family community - he didn't make a serious effort to actually read it.  Gave it to him over three weeks ago;  he's read less than 20 pages.  He wants ME to make him a reading schedule, to butt heads & badger him into doing it.  

Again, I get that's very much a guy response.  I get that makes sense to & works for him.  My reality is that it not only doesn't work for me, it goes to the heart of what doesn't work for me.  Being able to step back & take a stab at my own motivations has been second nature to me since forever.  It's hard,when something comes so naturally, to get my head around others not being able to do the same.  

It's not that John WON'T look at root causes of hurtful stuff he does - he can't.  It's not in him.  That doesn't drive me nuts.  But it seems to me he can at least stop doing a few things that twist the knife - stop insisting he does listen to me when he clearly tunes me out, stop insisting I not feel crunched up inside when that happens.  Those two things, which he also can't change, are what drive me nuts.  It seems so simple - stop doing justifying goofs - and it so isn't for him.  Which is what really drives me nuts - not being able to totally slam him for not doing things which just aren't in him to do.  

Am I being confusing enough?

balancing act

It's so easy to say, "I'm not having contact with this person because s/he is toxic to my life."  But then I remember - good homeopath that I once was - that a bit of what can be toxic can actually be healing, when properly compounded with other ingredients.  

There are people who hold me at arm's length because they experience me as toxic.  That makes me sad, but it is their choice.  There are others who seek contact, but apparently only to meet their needs, not because they seem to simply seek connection.  That's a challenge.

For me, there are people with whom I'm constantly refining a personal balancing act of contact, but not so much it feels poisonous.  They are worth it.  Wish that was possible with everyone who matters in my life, but will be grateful for the ones I have.

And mega mega mega grateful that Mim & I were able, over the last few years, to partner up & create a relationship that hopefully worked as well for her as it did for me.  Interesting, realizing things like actually getting together didn't work for us, ditto even talking on the phone, but mail was a godsend.  Will always miss John coming in the door, all smiles, waving an envelope & saying, "You've got a letter from Mim!"

Between the two of us, Mim & I found a place that felt okay.  Holding this in my heart as a benchmark in balancing.  

May I find ways to duplicate - in different ways - additional relationships with folks who matter; whose presence, however distant or slight, helps make for a full, wholehearted life.

Power of stories

Interesting - wrote the title of this blog posting on 07/30/15, filed it as a draft.  That was all there was - the title.  And I have no idea WHY.  Didn't start writing daily Mim memories until 08/13 - two weeks away.  But opening up Secrets of the Home this morning, there it was - waiting for me.

Because that very easily could have been the title I came up with right now, although my thoughts were more around integration.  But it really is about the power of stories, although it hadn't occurred to me.

It's been a wild & woolly week.  A dear grannie client fainted last Wednesday & my days have been set on their ear by lending a hand when needed.  She seems fine now, but the days between seemed long & wide.  Instead of just swinging by for breakfast, now I arrive by 7:30 a.m. to help her get ready for the day.

Yesterday was my first early arrival.  Her daughter had called early early to fill me in with a late night/early morning visit to the ER because of back pain.  All seemed fine, she'd been given Motrin & that was about it.  Oh, and the oldest son's wife would probably still be there - she stayed overnight with her m-i-l as her s-i-l had earlier.  

And she was.  And once again, it came home to me how crazy generous the Universe is with me (profuse thanks!).  If it weren't for coming by to help out, would never have enjoyed the short conversation between us.  She spotted my copy of Brene Brown's Rising Strong, mentioned she was reading it, too.  She hadn't gotten far into it, but already felt that it was written for her.  

I'd barely gotten out of the introduction, so didn't have much of a detailed impression.  Hearing her description gave me pause - already it held a strong draw on my heart, the AH HA portion of my mind.  

My gosh, just the graphic that takes up the entire back cover was enough to send me shouting from rooftops!

 

Fast forward to 9:30 p.m. - my dear older friend was ready for her slumbers, John & I heading out to our own hearth & home.  Outside, as he walked off to get the car & I settled in on a bench to wait, I called out after him, "It's strange, but it DOES feel like Brene wrote this book for me."  It's one of those moments that happen to me - years from now, will remember the sense of the darkness, the cool of the bench as I sat down, the decision to share right my thoughts.  

The inside book jacket describes its heart - the importance & power of emotion & our willingness to lean into its discomfort.  Stories are key.  "When we deny our stories, they define us.  When we own our stories, we get to write the ending."

Those two sentences - yes,yes & YES!

Going back to the statement on the back cover, remembering the title waiting for me this morning, rereading "our wholeness - even our wholeheartedness - actually depends on the integration of all our experiences, including the falls.

Wow....  Goosebump time.

Just two days ago, wrote a posting about that very thing.  I hadn't - scout's honor - read more than a couple pages of Brene's book.  But maybe the graphic on the back had registered & been subliminally working its magic.  

Because our wholeness so clearly depends on knitting our experiences into a "constantly expanding integrated whole."  Honest, I'd barely cracked open the book, but it sounds - even to me - like that could be right out of its pages.  

By page xviii of the intro, read yesterday morning as my friend slumbered in the next room, had already seen the "Oh,yeah!" of the book seemingly written for ME.  Her embracing of vulnerability as a necessary part of living has me smiling.  

When I fell in love with John, one of the two warnings I gave him about me was that I had shied away from real love because of a fearing vulnerability.  That was 26 years ago.  Ten years ago, teaching biology to an intriguing group of socially at-risk high school students (9th-12th graders in each class), realized that vulnerability is to be celebrated, not feared.  A cell needs to be vulnerable in order to let things in & out.  What a wake up call!  I'd been fearing the very thing needed most.  The ability to let things in & out - that just kept resonating.  

Still does.  Still get deep chills that the Universe had me teaching science, a course for which I had a rough-edged interest but NO experience, in a creative way to a group of non-standard students that brought out unexpected angles & even whacky approaches, stirring the imagination even more than the intellect. There are no accidents. 

As Brene writes, "Hiding out, pretending, and armoring up against vulnerability are killing us;  killing our spirits, our hopes, our potential, our creativity, our ability to lead, our love, our faith & our joy...  Being brave requires us to be vulnerable."  YES!  As she points out, we need to lean into our vulnerability & uncertainty.

We can't get anywhere in tact without embracing our stories, without integrating them into the circuitry of our lives.  Okay, here comes the spooky wonderful part - how did I know that from forever?  Wasn't taught it, didn't see it modeled anywhere around me.  Yet it's something that's been part of my deepest being for all of my life.  It, along with a deeply buried but always there sense of basic self-worth, is part of my spiritual dna.  Praise be!  

When Brene's book first caught my eye, the story aspect called out to me.  Had no idea it's just as connected to the power & importance of emotions.  

When I started reading this book, it caught my full attention.  As I worked through it - am up to page 64 - realized that it does seem to be speaking to me.  But writing this - having opened up my blog to find a title waiting for me, written weeks before getting the book - am realizing an even deeper feeling is stirred reading my way through. It feels like I am coming home to me.