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Several of my friends and I have been talking about how crazy it seems around us. All the varieties of drama playing out with us in the midst of it. This has been increasing our stress levels (I have hives from it). It is like we cannot even begin to tie anything together or understand what is really happening around it all. We have no idea what is going on and why, what the potential outcomes are. It feels like we are on a spinny ride roller coaster. After awhile, it does take its toll on our emotions, our body, our brain, our faith, our sleep, eating and our relationships. Faith and fear meet at the rickety bridge.

One day at work, as I was mulling over the situations and saw a chair in front of me. It reminded me that I was in someone else’s movie. I needed to walk out of the screen, grab a popcorn, sit down in that chair and watch what was going on instead of being one of the actors (or bad guy) in that show.

How often can we see that we are in someone else’s movie? Of course, we are our own producer, director and star in our own movie. When we become a supporting actor in someone else’s movie? That is optional. How do we determine what is our movie and what is someone else’s movie?

At another place when I go through the doors, I see it as a walking into a dream sequence. You know how the film editors use a shaky kind of movement to indicate it is a dream? When I am done for the day, I feel like I am doing the reverse of moving out of that dream state.

By stopping and deep breathing, I can become aware of my movie roles, whether my own or being put in someone else’s. I can decide to accept the part or pass on it. Even when I an unwittingly drawn into it, if it is one that is unpleasant, or turning into a horror story, I can opt out of performing, or reacting.

When I was going through a rough patch years ago, James told me that Carol Burnett said that time plus tragedy becomes comedy. At the time, I thought how can that be? As time moved along, I was able to see it become a comedy. Not all things, but most things do.

So I will grab some popcorn and Junior Mints, sit back to watch. Or leave the theater before or right after it starts. In a lot of ways, either choice can be a relief. My minutes, my decision, my life.

Awhile ago, a family member told me that “it’s always about you!” to me. I was taken aback, just shocked and confused at that. I was wondering where it was coming from. Instead of arguing about how I saw that as untrue, I listened. It took some time to process that as I thought I was doing the right thing be interceding in the violence. I felt since I was the eldest, I wanted to protect from the abuse as best as I could.

After talking with someone about this, it was pointed out that this could have basis. As we discussed it further, I now can see how that can be viewed as “being all about you.” Even though I saw it from my perspective, the other person saw it as taking away the attention from them. I saw it as abuse, that other person saw it as something else, as me diverting that focus back to me. For me, it did not feel loving and good; it was quite painful.

In this case, the views had two sides. If I did not intervene to the best of my ability, I likely would have been seen as selfish for protecting only myself at the expense of the others. As I did intervene, I was seen as selfish for redirecting the attention to me. It looks like a no-win space. Selfish either way it was handled.

Seeing it from the other perspective allowed me to let go of the anger toward that other person for feeling so unappreciated. I also realized that no matter what I said, it was not likely to be received; not really an option for a dialog. Even our best intentions can be seen as interference. I believe most often our help is accepted and appreciated. Consider asking for clarity of the person’s request. Weigh out whether it is something you can do. It can be tricky. I have gotten wiser about this, I hope. Still a learning curve when we think we can read the other person’s mind about what they want and what we think they want and need.

When we are little children trying to dodge and navigate these tricky situations, how do we really know any better until we are able to process it and understand when we are adults? How do we even know what the others are feeling when it is probable they are not able to discern what their own feelings are beyond anger and rage. Being in the mire of survival, at times even life and death, I did the best that I could. We all do with what we know at the time. Often, it is us who can use forgiveness, too.

I reread pages 32-35 in Elizabeth Gilbert’s book, Eat Pray Love about the petition. After  rewording her petition and speaking it out loud, I followed up on the next step. Gilbert asked her friend, Iva, who would sign this petition. Iva said she would. Then they began to name other people who would sign it. The list grew. So I imagined it similarly in my situation. I thought of the others who were with me at that meeting in spirit. Would they not want the outcome to be harmony with the best outcome and right action? I may not have been able to decipher all the signatures, and I saw a lengthy and growing list.

When we think we are all alone in yucky and sticky situations, who will be there in spirit if not in person? How many will stand next to us for comfort, a shoulder to cry on, healing, moving forward, laughing and finding inner peace and progress? Something I heard years ago resonate with me when I am feeling isolated and alone. When I do not feel God in my presence, it is me who walked away. This can be similar with our friends and support people.

With my history, I have struggled in friendships for many years. Too banged up and battered to trust anyone that I did not think would hurt me and take advantage of me in my vulnerability and yes, desperation for someone to like me for me. Hearing everyday how was unwanted sprinkled with “I wish you were dead.” A dearth of affection created a deep, empty, needy hole. I people-pleased just so I would be important enough to be kept around, at least for awhile. This became exhausting and I really could not keep it up.  Someone would want to do something for me, I was suspicious, wondering why. It has been a long and bumpy road to find relationships that are flexible, where I can give and receive.

I still have struggles with that. I am getting better at asking for support. Even from those who signed the petition, those I know and those I don’t.

People with PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder) sit where they can escape more easily. For years at church, I would sit in the same place, close to the side door, for an easy escape if I needed it. I would feel that anxiety. Some find it curious that why I would feel that way with people I knew versus people I did not know. It was the people I knew that hurt me, not the stranger.

A therapist asked me to move out of my comfort pew into the center section of the church, meet some other people. It is like prolonged exposure type of therapy. My husband knew of my angst about this and was with me each step of the way, holding onto me to do this, offering encouraging words. I wanted to bolt pretty often at the times I did this. With the prolonged exposure and checking the facts that those people were not out to get me, I settled down and began to see the different views.

I transferred this skill into other areas of my life such as at meetings or events. I figured out that the people around us don’t really care about me or have any investment in me. I am a grain of sand on the beach in the world of people.

With my husband, I have had feelings of wanting to leave, escape. It is not because of him. It is me becoming more open-hearted and vulnerable, fear of letting love in and feeling loved with that connection. “Love” is painful and abusive was what I learned. He tells me every day that he loves me. I was perplexed why unlovable me would be lovable to him. When I thank him for loving me, he says, “My pleasure!” Ahhhh.

After my son was born, I was afraid to let him in, become attached. I had so many important things taken away from me, I was sure he was going to be taken away from me, too, just because someone can. After he was born, someone in a threatening tone said that if I did the smallest thing wrong, she would have him taken away from me. We navigated together with my healing and his growing up. Today, I am so  touched with his loyalty to me, how he tells me often he loves me (without me prompting). Again, why love me?

Well, after all these years, my parents fed me faulty information. I am worthy and lovable after all.

It has been a rough few weeks for me. It reminds me of the Polar Vortex we had a couple of winters ago, only this is about a difficult and challenging situation. I am feeling like the pinball, being knocked off center while trying to regain my footing is difficult. I pull away for awhile to find my center, remembering to breathe.

I am blessed with my husband, son and many friends who are supporting me while offering encouragement to look beyond this vortex, to find the meaning of “what’s next?” At a meeting, I prepared myself for the variety of encounters I expected may occur. Once there, I felt outnumbered. My spiritual teacher and I talked. He said he would be with me during this time as well as Deb and Lory. When sitting there at the meeting, I closed my eyes and looked around. I saw wonderful and great support of loving beings around me, hands on my shoulder, whispering encouragement. I did not feel alone.

This reminded me of something Elizabeth Gilbert wrote in her book, “Eat Pray Love” (2006) on page 32-33. She wrote about an ongoing difficult a situation in her life was and said to her friend, “…I wish I could get some divine intervention here. I wish I would write a petition to God, asking for this thing to end.” Her friend asked why not petition help from the universe. As I reread Gilbert’s petition, it reminds me that I am part of the universe and I can also write my own request for divine assistance, asking for clarity and for what’s next with getting back to inner peace.

Even though this situation does not make sense to me now, why is it happening now? Bill and Deb remind me that when doors close, new ones open to better opportunities. Hanging on will keep me handcuffed to history instead of making new history. It is where faith and fear meet at the rickety bridge. Why not trust in my own creativity, skills and abilities to create something new and more fulfilling. What parts do I like and which ones I could leave behind. There is a comfort in staying in a rut, of hanging on to the old. Now that the old is becoming more uncomfortable, it is time to work on that transition into something greater and freeing. Life does that to kick us out of being dormant into growing, flowering and producing more fruit.

I have been experiencing great angst about a yucky situation. My stomach is in knots, I wake up in the middle of the night and cannot get back to sleep, wondering, ruminating about it, trying to figure out what to do, what to do, what to do to try to “fix IT.” Maybe this isn’t about fixing “it.” It is about looking to the horizon and for other doors and windows to ask what’s next, what’s next, what’s next?

I realized that being in this state has put me on the side of being reactive, a victim with few choices. By stopping the runaway cycle, I decided I need to be proactive about the situation, keep my integrity and power instead of giving it all away. It is challenging to confront the past with the new skills. The more I do this, the more I like this feeling of being able to do something as a replacement for wringing my hands, not sleeping and blaming others for my situation. When I can take action, I feel much better about myself; it’s moving forward. It’s knowing there are more choices of what I CAN do.

Instead of becoming emotional about the situation, I am feeling my emotions from anger, grief, frustration, confusion, to accepting that it is not my place to fix, be a savior. I can see (and lovingly pointed out) that I have been enabling, interfering, with the progression of events.

Growing up in a crazy house as the oldest, I took it upon myself to try to control that crazy. I believed if I did enough, soon enough, fast enough, good enough, it will help our lives slow down from an out-of-control spinning roller coaster. I learned to anticipate what’s next, looking for the cues and signals that it was time to intervene. It was ingrained in me to just take it. Standing up for me was met with either pain or disregard. Peace at any price. This has carried on into my adult life which has its consequences. Usually the cost of peace is high for me. The old adage, “Might makes right” really is “might makes fright.” I can see how people use fear as a way to get the other person to go along with what they want. That kind of fear strikes right at the core of survival.

What has helped me was being skillful. I acknowledge that part of my survival is still rooted deep from the past. However, I have learned to use skills that recognize the survival creeping up and to address it before it takes over. Through Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT), I have used those skills to not get hijacked into flight, fright or freeze. I can stop that track then process and take action. Even when I opt not to take action, it is a conscious decision. Sometimes, weighting out the options, pros and cons, I can decide whether it is better to act or to let it pass by.

In my family growing up, I learned survival skills that kept me alive. I learned how to zig and zag, anticipate the next steps, looking for cues, fix what I saw needed fixing, provide diversion, even offer myself up as a sacrifice when I saw it was warranted; the martyr a lot of the times. As the oldest, I thought it was my role to try to control the uncontrollable situations. I did my best to alleviate the broad damage. I was a kid; at the time, I did not know any different. I viewed my parents at that young age as not being competent to take care of what was important and when the violence ramped up, I tried to alleviate it, or rather control the amount and intensity of it. In my mind, I saw it as “saving” some members of the family. Maybe if I looked deep enough, I was hoping that I would be saved, too, even if was just sometimes. We all have our photograph album in our minds of how we saw and experienced things and events.

What looks like a Dudley Do-Right save the day can look to the other person like interference. It creates hostility on their part back to the savior. It can be a sticky wicket when a person does step aside from taking action and the other person experiences the event. The name for this is hostile dependency. We see person as needing help and step in. After we do, they come across as hateful as the perception can be that we do not think they are capable of handling it. Ah, have I experienced that! My good intentions met with anger from them.

I have an inner sensory tool that I have engaged. If I feel sorry for someone, then I know it is enabling; so I stop myself from helping. If there is a request, I will likely redirect them to another place, stopping short from doing anything else. This happens when I have experienced hostile dependency from them. I know I get so caught up in the doing, doing something, doing anything it takes, that I can overrun others. It is unintentional, really. Just get caught up in doing “something.”

What I have come to realize more is that by continuing to do that, it is taking away the other person’s choices. When it comes back to me on the times I stood by not “interfering,” I will remind myself that it is their choice. If asked to help, it is my choice. Helping is by invitation only. It is a challenge to break myself of this habit.

The lessons this week have certainly pointed out that it is very important to stop. It certainly can kill that “takes initiative” trait.

As I am aging and my body requires different foods, I find I am having to reduce eating the things I love or even give them up altogether. After not eating certain things for awhile, I will indulge in something that is a delicious and comfort food only later to not feel too well afterwards. As a survivor, I would eat food as a way to provide comfort for me. I saw it as a viable option because it wasn’t going to hurt me like humans do. Adding that extra layer of fat would also keep me unattractive enough to keep people away. If I was ugly enough, I would not be assaulted. Then fat-shaming became the trend.

Now that my human odometer is close to flipping over to the next stage of mileage, it means that the maintenance can become more expensive, more frequent . I dread going to the doctor because of what I perceive as shaming because I do not always do what I should. So I went July 8 (needed medicine refills). I was concerned how bad my numbers were. What a shock! It was way better than I imagined. A fair amount of that is the result of me reducing the foods that aren’t very good for me anymore and replacing them for something better for me, making healthier substitutions or not eating those things.

We often say we are “giving up” something. Giving up sounds more like it’s against what we wish versus letting go which is our choice. With that comes grief, the sadness of letting go of something that we loved and enjoyed but either have to limit it or let it go. So I am thinking that if I had mini-funerals for the things, including foods, that were my faithful companions, I can make peace within myself by honoring that loss.

We have lots of losses, even something everyday. I think we minimize how we feel about them because they seem so little and unimportant. They are important. We believe that if we say something about it to someone, we will be shamed, belittled and minimized for being so foolish over something that may look trivial to them. It begins to pile up inside us so instead of actually letting them go through acknowledging our grief, we stuff them in all the corners of our bodies. We add more when we take in what others comment about it, too. More stuffing.

This is for us. So grieve and honor what has served us well in the past and make room for what will serve us better today.

When I am creeping up on making a decision, a life-changing one, I can feel my anxiety rising, my heart races a bit more. Doubt, the second, third and fourth guessing, zigzag through my mind. The closer I get to crossing that bridge, the more I wonder if I had taken into account all the pros and cons; all those what-ifs. Is this what is best for me; for my family? What if I make a terrible mistake? What if I can’t turn back? What if I get shamed for being so stupid? I have been thinking about what to do with my work and volunteer situations and where I want to go with the next stages. Just like that old Peggy Lee song, “Is that all there is?”

That bridge may look like a short one until I get to the edge. It looks a lot different. That short, sturdy bridge morphs into one that looks like one of those rope bridges across a wide gorge with wood slats some of them missing while swinging in the winds with raging water below. I go from deciding I was going to run headlong across is now met with trepidation. Can I make it across or can’t I? Keep my faith or sink into my fear?

Funny how I process the decision, make it firm in my head and in my resolve only to get shaky when I am getting ready to take that first step across. Sometimes I chicken out. It gives me the time to reconsider and potentially talking myself out of it. Then I re-experience what it is I did not like about being in that space. I ask myself if I can continue to tolerate the situation any longer, if these have run its course; are there other options or is it time to take a deep breath and make the trip. It may take me several tries to finally go forward with commitment and persistence.

When I do embrace the new decision and let go of the old one belief, I feel a combination of grief from letting go of the familiar and exhilaration of being free from something that kept me stuck in the past or was painful to be around. Crossing over that bridge means releasing the hand of the past I was holding onto while reaching for the hand toward the future on the other side.

Steadfast faith is a noble place to be. My fears run up against my faith. No matter how much time I spend on trying to control the current situations and control the outcomes, I cannot and it clouds my decision. Even though I have some ideas of where I want to go, I am still processing my potential decisions.

 

Ever have days when you think you are the sane one and others around you do not make much sense? It’s like being in a fog and what people say do not match with your own reality? Clarity is lacking. It does not matter what you say about it, those words go through a muffler and comes out garbled into someone else’s ears and mind. Feels like a long stormy and foggy few days. What to do about it.

In this case, I will keep a lower profile, get some support, to ride it out’ see what unfolds in a few more days. Maybe it will be clearer and the yucky will have passed. Maybe, maybe, some common sense will become available?

I have noticed that people are trying to micromanage more. It is a control thing. Both are based mainly on fear and lack of trust. The tighter the reins, the greater the fear. Being in this space of other people trying to micromanage and me trying to control (damage control?) the situation is no longer working for me. Too stressful and uncertain outcome for me. It sucks my energy so that I feel so drained when I get home; I do not function well.

Talking with a few friends about it helped me to see different perspectives. Am I being shown how this pattern no longer works? Is it ramping up so I can clearly get the picture and to figure out what is the next step? Through this, I realize I need to sort through my feelings of being unappreciated for what I have done and grieve that loss. The steps include being angry, bargaining, grieving the loss of the old ways and then acceptance and change.

I cannot save the situation or the people involved. I learned that in Alanon, that loving detachment and practice self-care.It is like being on a railroad track trying to stop the speeding train. It is me who gets run over. I realize I am delaying that process of them learning their own lessons as well as my own.

When I am having one of “those days”, I used to go to bed early hoping whatever was clogging up the works will pass. Of course, there are days when it goes on for more days. Not trying to fix anything, but maintaining through the storm-tossed seas becomes my focus.