Author: Kathleen McDowell

“I worked so hard for this company and they let me go.” “I have been in this relationship for 38 years, helping to provide the opportunities for him/her to succeed and he/she left me for someone else.” “It’s just not fair.” “I was dropped in this family that caused much pain and someone else had it better than me. It’s just not fair!” “How come that person got to have a really nice house? Nicer car? Go on a fabulous vacation.” How can this be fair? I would watch about how the other family members were treated and saw how unfair it was.

Looking at the fairness issue is tricky. At face value, we can see how things are from our view and feelings. What we are missing is the other person’s view and experience getting there. I used to think that way, seeing my wishful thinking that someone else’s life was certainly better than mine. Of course, there are things that happen that really aren’t fair.

As time unfolded, I began to rethink this fairness thing, even though there are still times I think it isn’t fair. When I learned the back stories, or learned how they got there, I put things into more perspective. Would I truly want to trade places with them.

Years ago, a co-worker had commented about trading places with me. I said sure, for the 24 hours. She saw things initially as how I was able to come and go at my job, the flexibility. When I added that it included taking care of my son and about the single mother of a six year old as well as doing the rest of the things that I do after work. After mulling it over, for like less than a minute, she said no thanks!
People can cherry pick what they want to see about a person or their situations then comparing the two based on our own experiences. It can seem on the surface as unfair. When we can humanize the people and look a bit deeper, maybe there is something to those unanswered prayers. What if we cannot cherry pick the highlights of what we wish for? What if all the parts that come along with the outcomes are for the lessons to be learned so we can get to the next step? Maybe we will find out that the cross they bear is too much for us.

Another segment is to see what we desire and figure out how to get there. Not necessarily to pine away with wishful thinking. To attain most likely requires work on our part. Maybe what we think we want that others have isn’t really what will fit for us. I thought I’d want a much bigger house. I love my small, cozy house after thinking about it and figuring out that the larger home is a lot more to clean, the utilities are likely much higher, more maintenance. In turn, having a much larger house would add more stress. I let it go and appreciate what I have now.
I can see how hanging on to the “it’s not fair” card is a stuck place of not being able to create other scenarios and options. Maybe people just do not want to do the work to get there. There is no freedom in being in the “it’s not fair” place. We can stay stuck while the rest of the world keeps going. How to start to move out of that space?

One can start by taking charge of what you can do. Yes, it would be nice if we can be gifted or we can inherit. In the meantime, by taking a few steps forward, moving out of a victim space, can offer us freedom to create and co-create what’s next. When I decided to be in charge of me and what I wanted, I can and do attain. Funny thing is, when we put the work and equity into getting to the place we are, others might see that is unfair. However, we now have the knowledge and the awareness of the work that went into arriving. When others attain, can we celebrate with them? Find out the work and desire, intention they put into having it unfold?

Applause to you for figuring out how to move forward so you can have your preferences. Knowing that makes it sweeter and develops our resolve and purpose and appreciation for what we do have. Hopefully, we can share our journey and our inner creativity with others to encourage them to find their own direction to have and manifestation.

 

For the things and situations that truly aren’t fair, we still can decide to take a different view. It can be a sign that maybe we need to move in a different direction. Look inside and ask someone else that will help you gain perspective about the situation. Then develop a plan to address where you can be empowered. Breakfast with a friend can be the best support. Use the opportunity freely.

For the past few months, I have had the gift of going to breakfast with my dear friend. It usually stretches outs to about three hours. Gratefully, the server keeps our drinks topped off with her lovely smile. (I am semi-retired and so is my friend.) Just spending time with her saves me a few hundred dollars a week in therapy costs 😉

Yesterday, we peeled off a few more layers of some answers we were trying to figure out; those missing segments that have eluded us of why we are challenged about connection, safety and feeling at home.

Last month, I have been wondering about going home. I haven’t felt like I belong here on the earth ever. I stayed disconnected. Jeanne, another support person, suggested that my going home was about coming home—back to me.  This is what led to my friend’s and my discussion.

We both were conceived in a traumatic fashion. We think when not conceived in love, it can set the trajectory for not belonging and that it is not a safe place to be. The second part as we compared notes is our mothers who we felt treated us differently than our siblings. It looked like we were a constant reminder of their pain and powerlessness and we were the recipients of that pain. Their pain was abusive toward us. Their anger about their situation turned into hatred of us. These two perspectives combined did not feel like we were welcomed to the family let alone feeling that sense of belonging and safety. We were cordoned off and disconnected. Do not enter the family! Not wanted.  Their ongoing actions reminded us every day.

Throughout our lives, we have had that struggle to find a place for us where we feel welcomed, embraced, accepted, loved. How that plays out is tricky. We can be loved and accepted now, yet we also can feel the disconnection.

When Jeanne talked with me about coming home back into me, into my heart space, I finally got what that means. Previously, I thought if I could just leave here, I would be able to find that place called home somewhere else, out among the stars, in other constellations.

We went on to talk about how to find home. What do we do, where do we start. We talked about soul retrieval, finding those lost parts of us to bring them home. What about that spark of the divine, the piece that gives life. Or my concept is the energy is passion and being.

What has struck me for all of my life is I have not really felt like I am belonging with an open heart. How do I get to feeling safe in my own body, my heart and my soul.

We have breakfast again next week so we will continue to peel back the layers to find other options and healing.  At our age, there is still time to come home.

Since last year, I didn’t feel enough oomph to tackle bigger projects. Kept them small and doable. For the past few years, I put the “overwhelming” projects off. It is time to clean out the upstairs (catch-all), the office and the one space in the basement (also a catch-all). Gratefully, the garage has room for the cars. If you want to get back at your kids or someone else, don’t clean out your house.

So this year, I am more insistent to get going in these areas. With the new book Swedish Death Cleaning coming out, it put into focus about whether my son even wants any of this stuff. After all, it is my memories, my important papers, my life story in these things. Not much for my son. Or even my husband.

I started in the office.  It looks so overwhelming that I thought about walking away to leave for another day. (NOTE: it is also the Feng Shui money part of the house.) Also it is on the first floor. I started cleaning out the desk drawers one at a time. It is amazing how many memories and just stuff was stuffed in there. I set up a bag for donations, a container for garbage and one for recycling. Drawer by drawer, I thoughtfully sorted. The first drawer was pretty simple. Then, of course, I moved to another file cabinet in the other office which needed cleaning out so I can put the cards in folders which I store in that one.

When I got to the sixth of seven drawers, that is where I stuck pictures. A large amount from a life-defining ritual which turned somewhat tragic. What to do with them. I pondered their place. Is it something my son would want? From what I understand about the Swedish book, the younger people aren’t as likely to be keepers of the memories and heirlooms. What to do with all this stuff? These memories? Those moments in time.

I called my son to ask him about the pictures. He asked me to save a few of them so I tossed the rest. Another rite of passage, letting go? I believe I am ready. As an aside, I will be asking my son as I go along if he is interested in anything before I donate it or toss it. I know he hasn’t landed in a permanent place yet so can change his mind. A courtesy opportunity.

Several years ago, my mother-in-law could not return to live in her house. It was time to get it on the market. My in-laws lived there for over 50 years. So in that house was a museum of their travels, memories, moments, history and much, much more. As I watched my husband begin to throw stuff in the dumpster, I was saddened. My mother-in-law’s special moments meant nothing to the next generation. They were her memories. I kept what I could to send to her niece as I knew she would become the keeper of some of the memories and heirlooms. I also kept the china, silverware, everyday dishes and some of those really cool kitchen utensils that don’t seem to be around anymore.

Maybe that is the key. To figure out what is your value in keeping them. Just looking at the office can be overpowering and it becomes a good excuse to postpone doing it. I still have four long file drawers to go through. Sigh… So, on I go to the next section. Focusing on one small part at a time makes the project much more successful for me. Inch by inch.

Recycling comes around again in two weeks. That is my incentive to move through the paper, one sheet at a time.

Hello, shredder!

In 2017, I experienced a “reversal of fortune.” I grew up in poverty so I have had struggles with money. Old fears propelled me forward to work hard as much as I could to have money to live on. Over the years, money has flowed in both directions. I have felt much better when I had more coming in than going out. It was a safety thing. When money was short, panic set in and loss of sleep, wondering, problem solving, praying. Eventually, another reversal would happen, the tax refund would land in my checking account.

This past year, money we counted on dried up. No matter what I did, it was not to be. Struggles aplenty. I wondered why it was happening. What is the lesson? Two of my friends also were in this position. No matter how much I stretched those ends, there still was a gap. Growing up poor, for me, was helpful in a way as now as I am pretty good at being thrifty and postponing wants and needs.

I was better at giving, not receiving. Since a lot of the $$ means I used for giving wasn’t there, was it an opportunity to learn how to receive? To discover more about the makeup of my relationships and what they are based on? It became an opportunity to reconfigure and sort out what is important and what isn’t and how satisfying my connections to others are.

It was interesting, too, how the discussions with my two friends about this reversal affected them. There are similarities in how we can let others be there for us by listening and offering encouraging words, saying things will be okay. A reassuring hug.

Then, another reversal when a windfall, or just enough to move ends closer together arrives. An exhale of relief. Postponed items line up saying pay me first, pay me first. But what about me, my needs and wants? Then fear creeps in. How will I divvy it up? Can I parse out enough for an emergency fund? Oh please, please, please, keep my car running. How do I feel when it dwindles? Then what? What’s next?

How our parents handled (or didn’t handle) money can affect our relationship with money. If there is deprivation of having to even need necessities, do we go all out to get things as fulfillment? Do we become stingy and still eke by even if we could allow a bit of a splurge? Hoard it while still living in poverty mentality? Do we live above our means?

Finding what issues we have around abundance can help us adjust to the ebbs and flows. My issues around money arose for more scrutiny and resolution. It also became a gift in that I curtailed wastefulness, especially around food. I am guessing we saved over $2000 by being very mindful of using our food and not going out to eat. Even when money was short, I still can do something.

So this year, what can you do about something that has been a sticking point? I will continue to be mindful to reduce wasting food and eat at home. For 2018, it is time to focus on health so I have started on this path. This challenges me to put myself closer to the front of the line.

Happy New Year to all of you. May it be brighter and shinier.

Yesterday, I answered three phone calls in a row. There were laments of how difficult it has been this year (for me, too). It has been a challenging year and it might be that way until the glitter balls drops December 31 and glasses are clinked in toasts. I think every forthcoming year will be THE year for us. Smoother paths.  Resolutions. Calmer seas. Clarity of what is next for us.  Greater abundance. More pleasant surprises. More appreciation for the kindnesses we do and to share them in a wider way.

As I chatted with my friend (first phone call), as we talked about the difficulties, we moved along the path to being grateful for what we DO have. Just like Psalms. Even though it seems dark and no matter what we try, nothing seems to open up, we have faith and acknowledge the blessings. It can sustain us. Through our discussions, we have those admissions that what we wished we had was something we really did not want anyway. Curious.

The second call was just as interesting. My relative helped her neighbor out a lot, especially at the end of her friend’s transition.  The friend’s sister swooped in to kinda take over, and it seemed, to disregard her sister’s wishes. Relative wanted to do the honorable thing yet was stopped. Unfair? Disrespectful?

Similar to the first call, the last one had a familiar outcome. From a panicky type call to calmness, we can work through our own Psalms to a resolution. The resolution isn’t necessarily the initial desired outcome. It can be clearing the way when we let go of a notion that doesn’t fit for us now.

We have about six weeks until the glitter ball descends; Father Time becomes baby New Year. Can we create our own Psalms so we can have a clearer vision for 2018? It is another form of “house” cleaning. Consider revisiting our dreams. Are they still applicable? Have we changed? Do we need to update our dreams to who we are now and where we are going? If it no longer fits, is it time to dream something new?

In that cleaning and clearing, let us spend time being grateful, and sharing that gratitude with others, for the lessons we learn, for the loving support along our way.

I appreciate these gifts. Happy Thanksgiving and for giving thanks.

For some of us, as the days get shorter, our moods and thoughts can get darker. I believe we are really solar-powered people as we can wilt in the throes of gray November. For the past few months, it has been a very dark time for me. I haven’t been in a place like that for many, many years. I am used to keeping busy, going, going, going until I was physically tired. That dark place is a lonely and isolating place. For me, there wasn’t much anyone could do for me.

For those years growing up in a painful, loveless, worthless place, my old space reminded me I was so unlovable and unwanted. Sometimes, that really dark place grabs hold in a tight grip, not letting go, saying things that aren’t true.

Struggling in the dark, looking to find a way out. Someone wants to shine a flashlight, tell us what to do, how to do it, we shouldn’t feel that way. Smile. Someone else always has it worse. You ought not to feel that way. They are trying to be helpful when it isn’t. Instead, why not ask, “How can I help?” By being in this place, it is likely so uncomfortable for someone else who doesn’t understand it and just want to fix it so we are all okay.

Maybe we need a candle. I have discovered that at this place, what I need to see and do is take the next step. When the rest of that  dark path is still, it could be the way has not been made clear, straight, smoother. The dark can help us bring another layer of painful past into the light and it becomes an opportunity to let go and heal. It is another piece of cumbersome luggage to set down and then walk away. Is what is in that bag ours or are we lugging it around for someone else? We take on other people’s guilt and shame, believing it belongs to us. With as long as we have carrying it, it morphs into ours.

So in this dark space, I have been processing and clearing so I can move forward. One step at a time. All I need to see right now is where to put my foot next. I can be in this space for now. And I am so blessed that there are people who have patience with where I am at and can love me through it.

That is the true gift.

When abuse happens, we either believe we are a lost cause or we are told and shown how much of a lost cause we are. Being at the receiving end of such pain at such a young age can set the tone for low to non-existent self-esteem. Add in the feelings of powerlessness, that no matter what we say or how we express it, we have learned to shut down and it can be fruitless to say anything. We just do not matter. Having that mindset, maybe we just don’t believe it when someone says they care. Yea, heard that before.

Because we wish that we could have been treated with tenderness, we can turn to the less “fortunate” and downtrodden, those who are also powerless. The animals. We can rescue them, love them, work with them because hopefully, they will love us back and give us that unconditional love and appreciation we have been looking for. They aren’t malicious and intentionally hurt us.

So many, many years ago, when I first moved to the Cities, I went to a department store. I walked past the plants and saw this straggly and pathetic looking plant. I bought it for 47 cents. I gave it a new home, new pot, new dirt, more love and attention. I believed in that plant that with what I can give it, it would grow and transform. That is my plant in the picture.

I wish I could see giving me that kind of loving attention to grow and thrive. That is the long and winding road. Other’s try. There is something configured in my brain that can block it out the kindnesses. Maybe because it is people who I have experienced as unsafe, have ulterior motives. (Gratefully, I have friends now that we give and receive, in mutual relationships.)

When my son was 7 or 8, we thought it was time to get a cat. As my son had an allergy, the search was important. Through a suggestion, we were introduced to a lovely cat, CB. My son’s cat allergy was not with this cat which is the basis for deciding which one to get. CB was used for stud service only, left in a small basement room. He was not treated as a pet. After I brought him home, he was scared. The house was expansive to him. Sitting in the window to watch big screen kitty TV was new. Being held and petted was foreign. It took some time of patience, love, respecting space and he turned around. There was such sweetness to him. We would snuggle at night with our little ritual. We became so attached. When it was time for him to cross over the rainbow bridge, it was a difficult decision. After nine years of togetherness, can I love him enough to let him go? After he crossed the rainbow bridge, I cried for weeks and weeks. Other than one other person, a friend, I had not cried that much for anybody for that long.

I missed him every day and my plant is thriving. It even blooms every few years. Love can make a difference for animals and plants, maybe even people.

Last year, a classmate emailed me about attending a mini class reunion. Close to every classmate was either a bully or indifferent. High school was a challenge to live through. The interesting thing about being in the same school system (rural area) is that when you enter, you stay with the same people until you walk out with your diploma (unless you move away). When I walked out, I felt relief yet I felt so battered.

I have been to most of the reunions just to see how far I have progressed. What I discovered is that I became more removed from that place, those people. The other part was they looked like they were more established and successful than me.

So when I got this email last year, I felt panicked and odd. I rekindled another classmate who also experienced trauma (we graduated together same year), then insisted she come with me. Before we met in town, she texted she was going to puke. I said we can be brave even within our anxiety. So we drove to the meeting site and walked in together. It was certainly awkward and interesting. At the end of the time, we talked with several classmates then left, exhaling. In a way, it was a relief to do this so I can update my brain from history.

This year, I was on the fence about going again. Glutton for punishment? Naw. My friend could not attend (out of town) so I decided to go anyway. My sister lives close by so I had a ready excuse. I walked in and the coordinator for the meet up met me at the door and seemed genuinely happy to see me. We sat down and chatted quite awhile. It was an interesting conversation. As I was listening and doing some sharing, what I heard was painful situations in his life. Maybe all that bullying and unpleasantness is rooted in just that. An outlet for pain to pay it forward.

Several other guys stopped by to chat, too. Another layer of interesting conversations. One of the women I rode the bus with stopped to chat, too. Getting kind of caught up. She lived behind us (think country not city).

I am allowing my brain to update the new age. One classmate had a heart transplant.  Also, I noticed since the past year how the aging process is speeding up for some. And life can become humbling. Eventually, the playing field does become more level. Giving the opportunity to mend pains and slights and allowing humanness to open up. Maybe they can use more blessings instead of scorn.

 

The addiction struggle is just that. A struggle. When some of us experience trauma growing up it is overwhelming.  How on earth do people expect us to grasp adult experiences when we are five years old? Our parents would not ever expect us to take over the checkbook to pay bills at five, six, seven, eight or even eleven years old. We cannot drive a car or by a house or go to work. We cannot begin to understand such adult tasks. So why would you expect us to be okay with having sexual experiences? We cannot say no. We are overpowered, threatened, shamed, confused, maligned, deemed unworthy and a throwaway.

So as we age, we begin to find alternatives to cope with the overload stress. There are options we can choose to get us back to numbness so we can maintain. Drugs, alcohol, suicide attempts, self-mutilation, isolation, acting out, gambling, shoplifting, psychological issues.  I find it quite interesting that when I hear of someone using any of these forms, I wonder what is going on in their life that they are choosing to self-medicate.

Did you know that in a research paper, I read that 75% of people who have chemical dependency issues are survivors of child sexual abuse? It is frustrating when we deal with chemical dependency and we are told to just quit. If we can just show some moral character, we would just be free from it. What is the matter with us? Yep. Just pile on more shame. That will do it. If we haven’t worked on the underlying issues so that we can unclench our fists to let it go, what else is there? Do we find another substitute addiction or even try to end it all?

I attended a workshop on dual disabilities. The instructor pointed out that those of us who are chemically dependent are not in denial. We are ambivalent which means we know what we are doing. After all, we have choices. Until we find something different, we can keep on doing what has been working.

Taking my son to the grocery store was at times a challenge. I was concerned if he started fussing and crying, even screaming. I just wanted to get my groceries and go home.  As I went through the produce section, I got two peapods, one for each hand. Except for one time, it worked. He took turns chewing on them. My son likes vegetables!

This got me thinking about chemical dependency. When a child has a rattle in one hand and a knife in the other, you want to take the knife away. However, to feel “balanced,” replace the knife with something safer, something better and more fulfilling. The key to that answer is to find what you do want instead. It will take therapy and support, love and friendship. As in a previous post, it is crossing that rickety bridge. The passport to cross is comprised of faith and determination and a reason to get to the other side. Until we address that deep pain and betrayals, addiction can continue. I have been sober for 31 years. No quick fixes. No magic. Sometimes I would waiver then decide after this many years, best for me to continue on the sober path.

There is one thing I have noticed that can nudge me back; it is stress. Being mindful of my stress level. When it shoots up, that is when temptation sings that siren song. Finding a meditation, a peaceful place for contemplation, surrender to divine trust, can move me away from that song.

Find your peaceful place. What do you need? What is the replacement? Working through our painful history one day at a time, even one minute at a time, can help us get across that rickety bridge to something more fulfilling. Find what you need to help get you there. Embrace faith.

In families, we can be relegated to certain roles. There have been studies on traits of the eldest and youngest. The eldest role is leader and the youngest got to be the baby. Middle children can be seen as the lost or invisible children. Plenty of information has been printed about middle children. They even have their own calendar day dedicated to them: August 12.

When we are in dysfunctional families, we can be appointed other roles. One that sticks out is the identified patient. The role of identified patient is the one who is pointed out as the problem. Doesn’t matter if the rest of the folks around us are having their issues; pointing to us is a way to deflect their problems away from themselves. From my experience, it did not matter what I said or did, I was always wrong, always something wrong with me.

With those roles strongly entrenched, it can be difficult to move out of those. It can be that when it has been reinforced enough, the relatives and family friends can believe it, too. They may not know what is going on behind it all, whether it is abuse or other challenges. Acting up as a child is a symptom for what is going on, When we do not have the words to explain what is happening to us, we can exhibit our fear, confusion, angst, “rebellion” to not “agreeing” to what occurring. Thus the label.

With sexual abuse, since it is an adult activity, our minds are not able to comprehend the actions, the feelings. Others may disagree. Sexual responses for a child are a physical response; not an emotional one. Anyway…

 

So with limited emotional and cognitive understanding, we can act out. We cope by turning to chemicals, cutting or are labeled mentally ill.

I was stuck in that mode until I learned there is another way to live. I could not escape that role until I left home and even at that I still needed to work on how to not be saddled with that role anymore. Took a long time to figure out how to do that. After discussing with a person who was struggling with that issue, I suggested a sabbatical to take a break from being in that position. Give some time and space to figure out who you are and how to decide for yourself whether being with that group brings you peace

 

or disrupts it. Is there drama and you do not want to be swallowed up in it? How do you get to find out who you really are based on new information? How do you get strong enough not to get pulled into that old familiar pattern?

 

 

In discussing the concept, this person shared how her family kept calling her to come over. The anxiety crept up. It is okay to continue taking a break. In a comedy moment (to me), I thought of an event that occurred when I was first married. My (ex) husband would talk about how he wanted to celebrate my birthday. I would be excited about the possibilities. The day came and he forgot…every year that we were married. Then one year as his birthday arrived, he came through the door and asked where his cake was. Same place as mine. Where is my card. Same place as mine. Where are my presents. Same place as mine. Then he said, just because I forget your birthday doesn’t mean you get to forget mine.

 

 

 

I think it can be that way when we take a sabbatical. Could it be that they may hold the view we are punishing them for how they treated us, continue to treat us, expecting that we cannot do that to them? Which is generally not true. At least for most of us. What I want is to regain my life back on my own terms. To be in charge of who I am, what I feel, want and need and then to express it and be heard. Abusive people may believe they are not the problem, that we are. They may not get it. Even so, take a sabbatical from those who disrupt our peace. Do it for you, not to get back at them.