Life Is Like A Waterfall
Allow me for a moment to describe my children. I recognize it is an exercise in maternal pride and boasting, but it does serve more than that purpose in this scenario.
Dermot is about to turn nine and he is joy personified. As soon as he was able to smile, his face would break open so wide that his eyes would become half moon slivers that beamed happiness and enthusiasm. That hasn't changed. He is all passion and energy and is a jack of all trades in the sports arena, naturally balanced and coordinated. His sense of humor is honest and refreshing and his antics are innocently mischievous. He is my favorite laughing partner. He makes friends so easily it makes us shake our heads in awe. His capacity to charm in the social realm is at the PHD level. Going anywhere with him is like walking beside him onto the set of "Cheers" and seeing everyone turn from the bar and say, "Hey Derm!" The flip side to his passion is his passion. As joyful as he can be and as excited, he can also be angry. It doesn't happen often, but when it does he scares himself with the depth of those feelings. He takes after me and it is both flattering and frightening. Frank and I refer to him as the healer of broken hearts because after Liam's death, we weren't sure we would ever feel joy again, and now we live with joy in one of its purest forms.
Wren is a watcher at seven, always has been and always will be. Her innate intelligence is staggering. She took a while to speak (she didn't really have to as Dermot did all the talking and often still does), but when she did it came out in strings of words with emphasis and accuracy. She didn't say much but when she did you could not help but listen. She became obsessed with puzzles at 18 months old and sees anything she doesn't master academically as a challenge rather than a defeat. Her great intelligence is matched only by her beauty both internally and externally. She cares, she worries, she protects those she loves. She is fearless in that, like a tiny lioness. This is all bundled in a small package of penetrating blue eyes and delicate blond hair, sometimes when I look at her it takes my breath away. She takes after her father and has no problem matching her stubbornness to his. She will go toe-to-toe to his six feet and commanding voice when she thinks she is right, not backing down for a second. It is a source of both pride and utter consternation for her father.
So now I have set the stage I will tell you the story of the waterfall. At one point about 18 months ago, we were living with my in-laws while we sold our house in Annapolis and looked for one in the Philadelphia area. The kids were sharing a room with two sets of bunk beds and both sleeping in little nests on both bottom bunks. I was settling them down for the night and had read them stories and giggled with Dermot about some fart joke or another (I have always and will always find farts hysterical). They were a bit restless and I laid down on the carpet between the two beds and quieted them several times in the darkness. Dermot drifted off and then a small voice from Wren's side of the room said, "Mama?"
"Yes Wren?"
"I've been thinking."
(Uh oh, I thought to myself, brace yourself Fiona)
"What about Wren?"
"Well... Life is like a waterfall."
"What do you mean chicken?"
"Well, you are born at the top of the waterfall. Then when the water falls, that is your life. And when you hit the bottom, it's over and you die."
"Wow, Wren, that's really cool but kind of scary also."
"Not really... waterfalls are beautiful. Good night Mama."
At this she turned over and fell asleep quickly and peacefully... I on the other hand lay on the floor for half and hour longer in complete and apoplectic existential angst. She could not have been more right. To her it was all about perspective. You could view waterfalls as scary, which they can be, or you can view them as beautiful, which they are. Life can sometimes be scary, but you can choose to view it as beautiful, which it is. This from the mouth of a five and half year old.
Children are miracles, tiny people who ought to be listened to much more than they often are. They see the world in a way that we jaded adults have forgotten.
Saturday, June 28, 2014
Thursday, June 26, 2014
Loving Fiona
Loving Fiona
I have been tossing around a few topics to write about recently as what I had written and posted had been from about a month ago. It occurred to me last night and again this morning that what I should talk about is forgiveness, specifically, forgiving myself.
Like most addicts and honestly many others, I am my own harshest critic. The internal monologue that I engage in is abhorrent. The things I tell myself are awful. I have for the first 41 years of my life, essentially hated myself.
It has been proven over and over again that there are so many people that love me, like me, even dare I say admire me (the last one makes me cringe with discomfort). What do they see that I don't? Since embarking on recovery I have struggled to see myself through the eyes of these people. I am slowly, very slowly beginning to see parts of myself that are good, admirable, desirable, even worthy.
When in rehab this last time, I met with the spiritual advisor for my unit. The first rehab I went to went through all the science of addiction and being a good student always, I had no trouble grasping the facts and being able to spout them back to anyone who would listen. This second rehab did the same, but added the layer of spirituality that I now see as essential to recovery of any kind. The chaplain sat me down in her office and had me write on her white board all the things I tell myself. The list was long and dripped with self-hatred and ugliness. She then took a picture of a little girl about 4 years of age and had me hold it. She made me tell this picture all the things I had written on the board. I wept as I spouted this tortuous list at this innocent child. I mean wept in a way that people generally don't and many of the words I had to force myself to choke out.
It was a horrible exercise, but one I think was critical to my recovery. From that day to this I have begun to be kinder to myself. It does not mean that I let myself off the hook for all the things I have done in addiction and out that require admittance and redemption, but I have started to see myself as a human being stumbling through this life doing the best I can. I have begun to realize that I am enough. Not remarkable, or spectacular, but simply enough. This also does not mean that I will not strive for greater things, but that today I am enough.
Living with an alcoholic or an addict is awful, confusing and scary to say the least. We do things in addiction that people shouldn't. We do things in addiction that people in their right mind do not. We do things in addiction that go against the core of our being. Very little gets between us and our next fix. I describe it as an out-of-body experience. I know that what I am about to do is wrong, is bad, should not be done, but the side of me that knows this is so much quieter that the addiction. The addiction sends me into auto-pilot and I am powerless in the face of its loudness and insistence.
I am realizing that in order to ask forgiveness from these people that I love, I must first forgive myself. If I don't forgive myself, then I won't be able to stand in the face of their justifiable anger and resentment. Somehow when I am alright with myself, the force of their feelings, while still being felt, does not make my knees buckle. I can still be standing and still be enough. If I don't master this form of forgiveness then I am destined to repeat the insanity of my past.
So for today, I am working on loving Fiona in the way that I crave others will and do. For today I am enough.
I have been tossing around a few topics to write about recently as what I had written and posted had been from about a month ago. It occurred to me last night and again this morning that what I should talk about is forgiveness, specifically, forgiving myself.
Like most addicts and honestly many others, I am my own harshest critic. The internal monologue that I engage in is abhorrent. The things I tell myself are awful. I have for the first 41 years of my life, essentially hated myself.
It has been proven over and over again that there are so many people that love me, like me, even dare I say admire me (the last one makes me cringe with discomfort). What do they see that I don't? Since embarking on recovery I have struggled to see myself through the eyes of these people. I am slowly, very slowly beginning to see parts of myself that are good, admirable, desirable, even worthy.
When in rehab this last time, I met with the spiritual advisor for my unit. The first rehab I went to went through all the science of addiction and being a good student always, I had no trouble grasping the facts and being able to spout them back to anyone who would listen. This second rehab did the same, but added the layer of spirituality that I now see as essential to recovery of any kind. The chaplain sat me down in her office and had me write on her white board all the things I tell myself. The list was long and dripped with self-hatred and ugliness. She then took a picture of a little girl about 4 years of age and had me hold it. She made me tell this picture all the things I had written on the board. I wept as I spouted this tortuous list at this innocent child. I mean wept in a way that people generally don't and many of the words I had to force myself to choke out.
It was a horrible exercise, but one I think was critical to my recovery. From that day to this I have begun to be kinder to myself. It does not mean that I let myself off the hook for all the things I have done in addiction and out that require admittance and redemption, but I have started to see myself as a human being stumbling through this life doing the best I can. I have begun to realize that I am enough. Not remarkable, or spectacular, but simply enough. This also does not mean that I will not strive for greater things, but that today I am enough.
Living with an alcoholic or an addict is awful, confusing and scary to say the least. We do things in addiction that people shouldn't. We do things in addiction that people in their right mind do not. We do things in addiction that go against the core of our being. Very little gets between us and our next fix. I describe it as an out-of-body experience. I know that what I am about to do is wrong, is bad, should not be done, but the side of me that knows this is so much quieter that the addiction. The addiction sends me into auto-pilot and I am powerless in the face of its loudness and insistence.
I am realizing that in order to ask forgiveness from these people that I love, I must first forgive myself. If I don't forgive myself, then I won't be able to stand in the face of their justifiable anger and resentment. Somehow when I am alright with myself, the force of their feelings, while still being felt, does not make my knees buckle. I can still be standing and still be enough. If I don't master this form of forgiveness then I am destined to repeat the insanity of my past.
So for today, I am working on loving Fiona in the way that I crave others will and do. For today I am enough.
Tuesday, June 24, 2014
The Queen Who Saved Herself
Fiona Purcell
May 13, 2014
The Queen Who Saved Herself
Hello, my name is Fiona and I am an alcoholic. There are many things that I struggle with being an alcoholic, but also with just being human. Recently my husband and I have wrestled with what to tell our beautiful children about my recovery that has twice separated me from them when I have been in rehab. They don't understand why I cannot come home yet and they keep telling me that I don't look sick. This is a story that I came up with to try and illustrate where I am and why.
There was a girl who grew up in a dark place but survived the days of her childhood and came out into the world. She met a prince whom she thought was amazing. She spent many years getting to know him and he spent a lot of time and energy showing her things and came to be very protective of her. She felt safe with him and they fell in love.
The girl thought that being in love would solve all her problems and set her free from her dark, sad past. The two eventually married and he became a King and she became a Queen. They had a young prince who was an angel. The angel baby opened their hearts and showed the queen that she was good inside. The little prince died in the Queen's arms and the King and Queen's hearts were broken. At around the same time the King became deathly ill and they feared that he would die. The King was very brave and fought his disease till he was well again but they were unsure they would ever be able to have more children. Eventually a miracle happened and they had another prince who was the healer of broken hearts and once again brought joy into their lives. Soon after, another miracle happened and they had a little princess whose presence was like a song to their souls.
The King, the Queen, the prince and the princess lived in several castles in several cities. Even though she was surrounded by love, having all she ever wanted or needed, the Queen was unable to stay happy. The King tried everything to make his lady happy but he was beside himself. What was happening to the Queen was that she was haunted by dragons. There was a dark, black dragon from her past that saddened her. There was also a bright red dragon that spoke terrible things to her. The black dragon was always there chained to her and hovering making her feel she wasn't as good a person as she was. The red dragon came and went but its voice was very loud. It told her it would fix all her problems, push away the black dragon and make her feel good. But the red dragon lied and made her do things she would never normally do. It would make her act differently and lead her to make bad decisions.
The King was scared and the prince and princess were sad. No one knew what was wrong with the Queen. She had her King, her prince, her princess and her castle. She had the King's family, ladies in waiting and love surrounded her from all sides, what could possibly be wrong? It turned out that the dragons were invisible to everyone but the Queen. She was afraid and told the King about the dragons. He valiantly picked up a sword and tried to fight the dragons for her, but he could not see them to slay them.
The Queen eventually was forced to rest in a peaceful valley, but the dragons followed her. She came to realize that no one but her could slay the dragons because she was the only one who could see them. She was distraught... How would she manage to slay these dragons? She had never held a sword and she didn't know if she was brave enough. In the peaceful valley, the spirit of the sky spoke to her and told her, "Listen to me and not the red dragon. I will guide you on a quest to rid yourself of the dragons and show you the road to happiness." The spirit showed her to a trail and gave her a map with 12 destinations. She would have to make her way along the road reaching each destination in turn along the way. The spirit told her to seek help from other Queens who had already taken the same quest, but the spirit said it would always be there for her if she was in need. The Queen was so afraid, but she thought of how sad she was inside and knew that she needed to muster up the strength to go forth. She also thought of her brave King and of the young prince and princess and knew she could not return to them until she had rid herself of the dragons. The quest was long and arduous but with the help she had been given along the way, she made it to the 12th destination where she took up her sword and managed to maim the red dragon and set the black dragon free. The black dragon can still be seen, but he is further away and can't hurt the Queen any longer. The red dragon is wounded and will stay away as long as the Queen remember not to listen to him and his lies. The Queen, King, prince and princess can be happy again and the Queen knows how to fight her own battles. She thanked the spirit in the sky for the answer but the spirit told her that the answer was inside her all the time, the spirit had just shown her how to find it.
May 13, 2014
The Queen Who Saved Herself
Hello, my name is Fiona and I am an alcoholic. There are many things that I struggle with being an alcoholic, but also with just being human. Recently my husband and I have wrestled with what to tell our beautiful children about my recovery that has twice separated me from them when I have been in rehab. They don't understand why I cannot come home yet and they keep telling me that I don't look sick. This is a story that I came up with to try and illustrate where I am and why.
There was a girl who grew up in a dark place but survived the days of her childhood and came out into the world. She met a prince whom she thought was amazing. She spent many years getting to know him and he spent a lot of time and energy showing her things and came to be very protective of her. She felt safe with him and they fell in love.
The girl thought that being in love would solve all her problems and set her free from her dark, sad past. The two eventually married and he became a King and she became a Queen. They had a young prince who was an angel. The angel baby opened their hearts and showed the queen that she was good inside. The little prince died in the Queen's arms and the King and Queen's hearts were broken. At around the same time the King became deathly ill and they feared that he would die. The King was very brave and fought his disease till he was well again but they were unsure they would ever be able to have more children. Eventually a miracle happened and they had another prince who was the healer of broken hearts and once again brought joy into their lives. Soon after, another miracle happened and they had a little princess whose presence was like a song to their souls.
The King, the Queen, the prince and the princess lived in several castles in several cities. Even though she was surrounded by love, having all she ever wanted or needed, the Queen was unable to stay happy. The King tried everything to make his lady happy but he was beside himself. What was happening to the Queen was that she was haunted by dragons. There was a dark, black dragon from her past that saddened her. There was also a bright red dragon that spoke terrible things to her. The black dragon was always there chained to her and hovering making her feel she wasn't as good a person as she was. The red dragon came and went but its voice was very loud. It told her it would fix all her problems, push away the black dragon and make her feel good. But the red dragon lied and made her do things she would never normally do. It would make her act differently and lead her to make bad decisions.
The King was scared and the prince and princess were sad. No one knew what was wrong with the Queen. She had her King, her prince, her princess and her castle. She had the King's family, ladies in waiting and love surrounded her from all sides, what could possibly be wrong? It turned out that the dragons were invisible to everyone but the Queen. She was afraid and told the King about the dragons. He valiantly picked up a sword and tried to fight the dragons for her, but he could not see them to slay them.
The Queen eventually was forced to rest in a peaceful valley, but the dragons followed her. She came to realize that no one but her could slay the dragons because she was the only one who could see them. She was distraught... How would she manage to slay these dragons? She had never held a sword and she didn't know if she was brave enough. In the peaceful valley, the spirit of the sky spoke to her and told her, "Listen to me and not the red dragon. I will guide you on a quest to rid yourself of the dragons and show you the road to happiness." The spirit showed her to a trail and gave her a map with 12 destinations. She would have to make her way along the road reaching each destination in turn along the way. The spirit told her to seek help from other Queens who had already taken the same quest, but the spirit said it would always be there for her if she was in need. The Queen was so afraid, but she thought of how sad she was inside and knew that she needed to muster up the strength to go forth. She also thought of her brave King and of the young prince and princess and knew she could not return to them until she had rid herself of the dragons. The quest was long and arduous but with the help she had been given along the way, she made it to the 12th destination where she took up her sword and managed to maim the red dragon and set the black dragon free. The black dragon can still be seen, but he is further away and can't hurt the Queen any longer. The red dragon is wounded and will stay away as long as the Queen remember not to listen to him and his lies. The Queen, King, prince and princess can be happy again and the Queen knows how to fight her own battles. She thanked the spirit in the sky for the answer but the spirit told her that the answer was inside her all the time, the spirit had just shown her how to find it.
Saturday, June 21, 2014
Finding Joe
Fiona Purcell
May 14th, 2014
Finding Joe
I have been in and and around a certain 12 step program for a few 24 hours now. I remember distinctly my first meeting and shakily sobbed out who I was and that I was an alcoholic. It was the first time I had said it out loud and the sound was shocking and I remember being ever grateful for the other people in the room. I could feel that they understood and did not judge. I could feel them sending positive energy my way and it felt good... Until they started to talk about God.
As soon as God was mentioned, part of me shut down. I was desperate but I wasn't that desperate. I wasn't going to listen to bible thumping, well I would listen but I would disregard politely. This was coming out of rehab the first time. 35 days later I came home and embarked on hanging my head low and trying to fly under my family's radar. I was sorry, I was sad, I was angry, I was confused and I hated conflict. I went to IOP, I went to group therapy, I went to individual therapy, I went to marriage counseling and my husband had his own therapist. We both had an appropriate 12 step program. I got a sponsor, I started working the steps. I did service for my home group, I chaired meetings, I went on a 12 step call. I went back to school and after a year had the coursework done to become a certified addictions counselor (I got a 4.0). Then I promptly relapsed.
I went back to rehab, this time to a special relapse unit where we would sit around in a circle and collectively hang our heads and say a downtrodden, "Oh, Fuck." This rehab is a little different. They told us the facts about our brains and our brains on drugs etc... But they also talked about our spirit. I don't know when it happened, but slowly, with loving firmness, they managed to prize open my mind. They talked about God, in general terms and I started to want to hear more.
I never grew up religious in any way. We went to Sunday School (actually we went to Friday School but that is another story altogether) but it was more of a "everybody does it" kind of thing for my parents rather than something that they believed and wanted to instill. At some point we were given the choice to sleep in and that was that.
There was an arrogance about my dealings with religion. I thought people that believed in God were simple, blind in their belief in something that you can't see and touch and religion has been interpreted in so many ways and often not in the ways of good. So I dismissed them out right, because I knew more, I was more advanced.
Years later, and now in a more humbled position in life, I am less arrogant. I am much more open. I am just as confused though. For instance, I have experienced love, I can feel it but I can't touch it or hold it (unless it is in the form of my children and husband). You can't easily define it or put it in a box and it means different things to different people, but it definitely exists.
Now I look at people who tout about God and most of the ones I encounter these days are happy. I don't mean happy in a giddy, silly sense, but in a profoundly calm and serene sense. So what if I am wrong? What if there is something to this?
So now I have gotten to this phase where I can say I think that there is a possibility that there is some form of divine, some creative intelligence, some universal connectedness... Now what? God seems a very arbitrary name, someone else's conception that I can't quite put my arms around and embrace. I feel silly praying, I feel inadequate talking to God. I went back and forth about that for many months until it occurred to me to ask myself a series of "what if" questions.
What if my concept of God could be more approachable? What if I were able to have a conversation with God? What would it take for me to not feel silly? Who would tell me what I needed to hear that I could both respect and enjoy? What sort of being would set me at ease but be "no bull-shit"?
Slowly my mind went to a dusty, deserted highway somewhere in the sky. There is a neon flashing sign that says, "Eat at Joe's" over the top of mid-sized 50's diner. The sign hums and flickers and the "J" flashes on and off so sometimes it says, "Eat at oe's". You can go inside and there are a few regulars there eating their "shit on a shingle" and "eggs sunny side up". Joe is behind the counter wiping the surface down with a somewhat white rag.
Joe is a burly man in his mid 60's. He has salt and pepper wavy hair worn short. He is balding on top but he covers his pate with a white chef's cap. He has two visible tattoos. On his right arm is a green and blue and red tattoo that says "I love Bernice" with a heart representing the word love. On his left arm in black are the words, "Keep it Simple Stupid". He knows me by name and offers me coffee and a smile. I sit at the breakfast bar and check the menu even though I will always order scrambled eggs and corned beef hash. Joe knows this, but allows me this eccentricity and waits for me to tell him "the usual". He turns around and starts to cook me breakfast and asks me how things are. I tell him what I am struggling with and I ask him what I should do. He looks at me from under his bushy eyebrows as he places my plate in front of me and says, "really Fiona?" He speaks with a Jersey accent for some reason. "This is the kind of question that, ya know, if you have to ask, you probably already know the answer."
This is my concept of God, a burly short order cook from Jersey named Joe who reminds me that problems are actually pretty simple, life is pretty simple, and you already know most of the answers. You just have to get out of your own way and let your good shine through.
Joe bless you all.
May 14th, 2014
Finding Joe
I have been in and and around a certain 12 step program for a few 24 hours now. I remember distinctly my first meeting and shakily sobbed out who I was and that I was an alcoholic. It was the first time I had said it out loud and the sound was shocking and I remember being ever grateful for the other people in the room. I could feel that they understood and did not judge. I could feel them sending positive energy my way and it felt good... Until they started to talk about God.
As soon as God was mentioned, part of me shut down. I was desperate but I wasn't that desperate. I wasn't going to listen to bible thumping, well I would listen but I would disregard politely. This was coming out of rehab the first time. 35 days later I came home and embarked on hanging my head low and trying to fly under my family's radar. I was sorry, I was sad, I was angry, I was confused and I hated conflict. I went to IOP, I went to group therapy, I went to individual therapy, I went to marriage counseling and my husband had his own therapist. We both had an appropriate 12 step program. I got a sponsor, I started working the steps. I did service for my home group, I chaired meetings, I went on a 12 step call. I went back to school and after a year had the coursework done to become a certified addictions counselor (I got a 4.0). Then I promptly relapsed.
I went back to rehab, this time to a special relapse unit where we would sit around in a circle and collectively hang our heads and say a downtrodden, "Oh, Fuck." This rehab is a little different. They told us the facts about our brains and our brains on drugs etc... But they also talked about our spirit. I don't know when it happened, but slowly, with loving firmness, they managed to prize open my mind. They talked about God, in general terms and I started to want to hear more.
I never grew up religious in any way. We went to Sunday School (actually we went to Friday School but that is another story altogether) but it was more of a "everybody does it" kind of thing for my parents rather than something that they believed and wanted to instill. At some point we were given the choice to sleep in and that was that.
There was an arrogance about my dealings with religion. I thought people that believed in God were simple, blind in their belief in something that you can't see and touch and religion has been interpreted in so many ways and often not in the ways of good. So I dismissed them out right, because I knew more, I was more advanced.
Years later, and now in a more humbled position in life, I am less arrogant. I am much more open. I am just as confused though. For instance, I have experienced love, I can feel it but I can't touch it or hold it (unless it is in the form of my children and husband). You can't easily define it or put it in a box and it means different things to different people, but it definitely exists.
Now I look at people who tout about God and most of the ones I encounter these days are happy. I don't mean happy in a giddy, silly sense, but in a profoundly calm and serene sense. So what if I am wrong? What if there is something to this?
So now I have gotten to this phase where I can say I think that there is a possibility that there is some form of divine, some creative intelligence, some universal connectedness... Now what? God seems a very arbitrary name, someone else's conception that I can't quite put my arms around and embrace. I feel silly praying, I feel inadequate talking to God. I went back and forth about that for many months until it occurred to me to ask myself a series of "what if" questions.
What if my concept of God could be more approachable? What if I were able to have a conversation with God? What would it take for me to not feel silly? Who would tell me what I needed to hear that I could both respect and enjoy? What sort of being would set me at ease but be "no bull-shit"?
Slowly my mind went to a dusty, deserted highway somewhere in the sky. There is a neon flashing sign that says, "Eat at Joe's" over the top of mid-sized 50's diner. The sign hums and flickers and the "J" flashes on and off so sometimes it says, "Eat at oe's". You can go inside and there are a few regulars there eating their "shit on a shingle" and "eggs sunny side up". Joe is behind the counter wiping the surface down with a somewhat white rag.
Joe is a burly man in his mid 60's. He has salt and pepper wavy hair worn short. He is balding on top but he covers his pate with a white chef's cap. He has two visible tattoos. On his right arm is a green and blue and red tattoo that says "I love Bernice" with a heart representing the word love. On his left arm in black are the words, "Keep it Simple Stupid". He knows me by name and offers me coffee and a smile. I sit at the breakfast bar and check the menu even though I will always order scrambled eggs and corned beef hash. Joe knows this, but allows me this eccentricity and waits for me to tell him "the usual". He turns around and starts to cook me breakfast and asks me how things are. I tell him what I am struggling with and I ask him what I should do. He looks at me from under his bushy eyebrows as he places my plate in front of me and says, "really Fiona?" He speaks with a Jersey accent for some reason. "This is the kind of question that, ya know, if you have to ask, you probably already know the answer."
This is my concept of God, a burly short order cook from Jersey named Joe who reminds me that problems are actually pretty simple, life is pretty simple, and you already know most of the answers. You just have to get out of your own way and let your good shine through.
Joe bless you all.
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