Untethered
One would think that holding Liam at the end would be the hardest act I have ever faced. It is, but there is one that comes close but of course the two are so unsimilar that it is really unfair to compare the two. I do it to illustrate the point that I have taken a monumental step.
I have said before that I wish my brother and my mother no ill will. I have said before that I forgive them. I have said that I have to break the chains that bind me to the black dragon of incestuous abuse and a dark childhood. I have said all this and I have written about all this, but did I really mean it? Would it really be true if I didn't let my brother know this was how I felt? I I didn't think so.
I recently made a phone call that I am hoping will allow me to walk stronger. I planned it out with my therapist. I wrote a letter of rage, an unbridled slew of anger and language I seldom allow to come out. I then wrote another letter that succinctly outlined what I wished to say without all the rage. I met with my therapist and made a call to a person I have been avoiding for about a year now.
I called him. I had hoped I would get voicemail so I could delay the conversation for another week, but he answered. I asked him to listen without interrupting while I spoke, he did. I read aloud what I had written with my therapist sitting beside me. I acknowledged the abuse in a way I have never done before. I told him I knew what it was like to be sick and do something abhorrent that you regret. I told him I forgave him. I apologized for not releasing him from the guilt a long time ago. I told him that though I truly wished he and our mother well, I would no longer be in contact. I asked that he respect this decision as it was time for me to take care of myself. He was silent for a long time, and then told me he was sorry and that if I ever changed my mind about being in contact he would be there. Then my therapist tapped me on the knee and I said I needed to get off the phone.
That was it. It was a seemingly non-event. It was a short phone call with no malice. It may have seemed that way, but it was huge. It has taken me a few weeks to process this event and be able to write about it. This was calming a raging dragon with whispers and love and slowly, gently untethering it to set it free.
Parts of me have for a long time thought, who would turn their back on their family? Who would cut ties with blood? Who would no longer visit a mother sick in a dementia unit or help a brother struggling to care for her? I didn't want to be that person, but I have to be. I no longer have a choice. I can't be better, who I want to be, if I don't. If I take a step back I can see my life behind me and recognize that I may just have suffered enough over my past and those I love the most have suffered enough as well. I have voluntarily checked myself into a psych ward, I have been to two rehabs, I have missed two precious seven year birthday parties and weakened the bonds of my marriage. There is much more as well... It is enough now.
After the call I went to the house to spend time with Frank and the kids. After the kids went to bed, Frank and I spoke about the call. I cried a little and Frank told me I was brave. I shrugged and pointed at my emotionally twisted and tear-stained face and said, "huh, well I guess this is the face of bravery." I guess it is. It doesn't look gallant or fierce or militant. It looks like a tired, forty one year old mom who still isn't sure how she feels about it all. For a few days after I felt at once nauseous and battled the urge to bake a pan of brownies and eat them by myself in one sitting.
I will say that I am walking a bit lighter now. I will say that I faced something huge and went on to make lunch after. I will say that it no longer plagues me. Frank asked me if I really meant what I said about wishing them well and forgiving them both... Do I really mean it? I do.
Friday, January 30, 2015
Saturday, January 24, 2015
Premum Non Nocere
Premum Non Nocere
(First, do no harm)
It is allegedly a phrase from the Hippocratic Oath, but it is actually thought to be attributed to a 19th century English physician named Thomas Inman. Misconception or no, they are words to live by.
Frank often says he has a principle he asks himself when dealing with conflict in his life. He asks himself, how can I help make everyone involved successful. I love that about him. What a great way to look at a confrontation. It doesn't always work for sure, but if you have that in mind I think you can work through problems with empathy without sacrificing yourself in the process.
As I embark on making more amends, including those I dread the most, I am thinking of Frank's words and also of the Hippocratic Oath. If I know that what I plan to say will do more harm than good, I have to re-work what I plan to say or perhaps not say anything at all.
A common phrase I hear in the rooms of AA is, "Does it need to be said, does is need to be said by me, does it need to be said by me right now?" If I ask myself these questions when I start to feel self-righteous, then I often find I should really not say anything at all. AA also talks about restraint of pen and tongue. I need to keep that in mind also, especially at work when I find myself getting righteous more than in other aspects of my life.
That being said, I also have to be careful not to fall on my own sword. I have a deep seeded tendency to blame myself for other people's wrongs. I tend to take responsibility for others problems, emotions, actions, disappointments and fears. This ingrained co-dependency is so hard to break free of, but I am working on it everyday.
Last week I was feeling sorry for myself. I was sad and angry. Everything felt too hard. It is hard to work through issues with Frank, it is hard to be away from Frank and the kids, it is hard to live alone, it is hard to re-establish trust and authority with the kids, it is just hard. It is hard to take the advice from those around me in my support system and sort through it all and figure out what I am allowed to think and feel.
My therapist wants me to stick up for myself. He wants me to be more confident and show my anger rather than bury it. He wants me to live more congruently with my feelings and thoughts. Frank wants guarantees I can't promise. Our marriage counselor wants us to live mutually, in the present, yet separate ourselves from each other's emotions and expectations. My sponsor wants me to be grateful for where I am now as opposed to where I was this time last year.
The fact is, that it IS hard. I do want to be congruent, give guarantees, live mutually, separate myself from others' emotions and be grateful all at the same time. I want to be happy and healthy and with my husband and kids. Sometimes though, the best thing I can do on any given day, is to just do no harm.
(First, do no harm)
It is allegedly a phrase from the Hippocratic Oath, but it is actually thought to be attributed to a 19th century English physician named Thomas Inman. Misconception or no, they are words to live by.
Frank often says he has a principle he asks himself when dealing with conflict in his life. He asks himself, how can I help make everyone involved successful. I love that about him. What a great way to look at a confrontation. It doesn't always work for sure, but if you have that in mind I think you can work through problems with empathy without sacrificing yourself in the process.
As I embark on making more amends, including those I dread the most, I am thinking of Frank's words and also of the Hippocratic Oath. If I know that what I plan to say will do more harm than good, I have to re-work what I plan to say or perhaps not say anything at all.
A common phrase I hear in the rooms of AA is, "Does it need to be said, does is need to be said by me, does it need to be said by me right now?" If I ask myself these questions when I start to feel self-righteous, then I often find I should really not say anything at all. AA also talks about restraint of pen and tongue. I need to keep that in mind also, especially at work when I find myself getting righteous more than in other aspects of my life.
That being said, I also have to be careful not to fall on my own sword. I have a deep seeded tendency to blame myself for other people's wrongs. I tend to take responsibility for others problems, emotions, actions, disappointments and fears. This ingrained co-dependency is so hard to break free of, but I am working on it everyday.
Last week I was feeling sorry for myself. I was sad and angry. Everything felt too hard. It is hard to work through issues with Frank, it is hard to be away from Frank and the kids, it is hard to live alone, it is hard to re-establish trust and authority with the kids, it is just hard. It is hard to take the advice from those around me in my support system and sort through it all and figure out what I am allowed to think and feel.
My therapist wants me to stick up for myself. He wants me to be more confident and show my anger rather than bury it. He wants me to live more congruently with my feelings and thoughts. Frank wants guarantees I can't promise. Our marriage counselor wants us to live mutually, in the present, yet separate ourselves from each other's emotions and expectations. My sponsor wants me to be grateful for where I am now as opposed to where I was this time last year.
The fact is, that it IS hard. I do want to be congruent, give guarantees, live mutually, separate myself from others' emotions and be grateful all at the same time. I want to be happy and healthy and with my husband and kids. Sometimes though, the best thing I can do on any given day, is to just do no harm.
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
The Unbecoming
The Unbecoming
"Maybe the journey isn't so much about becoming anything. Maybe it's about un-becoming everything that you isn't really you so you can be who you were meant to be in the first place..." Anon
This quote may sound like something you would find on a cat poster somewhere but when I saw it the other day on a friend's Facebook feed it struck me. It is a near perfect quote at least for how I feel about my own journey.
I have long felt that I was someone. Someone special, someone full of love, someone kind, someone intelligent, someone meant to do something important. This wasn't something on my surface, but something deep down in my core. This wasn't something akin to fantasy either, though I have had plenty of those throughout my life, it was always something raw and true and essential to who I am at my core. I suspect many others feel the same about themselves.
I often think to myself when looking at my loved ones as they walk down the street and are passed by by others, "you people just brushed past someone extraordinary and you don't even know it." I look at Frank and think not enough people know how wonderful he is, how strong, how complicated, how fascinating, how patient, how special. I always feel that about my kids. I want to shake people who dismiss Dermot because he is a joy and everyone should see that. I feel sorry for people who don't give Wren time to warm up because she has so much wisdom in her tiny body. Similarly, my mother-in-law gives so much of herself to others, not stopping just at her family, but extending to those less fortunate, and people need to know that. Similarly, my father-in-law is a most non-judgement and loyal man and everyone should experience his acceptance. I could go on and on about all those close to me in my life.
It therefore strikes me that there are people I pass on the street who are also amazing and I don't even know it. I could be missing an opportunity to see their spark. I am rushing through my life, hurrying on to the next task and losing out on soul-nourishing connections. It strikes me that we are all special.
Throughout my life my own spark has dimmed over time. So much garbage built up around me that there was less and less space for the light to filter in and conversely filter out. This past year has been all about unwinding and starting again. It has been like a tangled ball of yarn worth taking the time to untangle. Once it got unkinked I was struck by the beauty of the thread and it was so worth saving rather than giving up and throwing it all away.
Perhaps this IS all about unbecoming those things I don't care for about myself, those things that aren't truly me. Perhaps it isn't so much about accumulating things and prestige and accolades, but more about getting rid of all that noise and slowing down to listen and see and be. The more I slow down and look every person I see in the eye and connect with them, the more I take the time to think, feel and look for the spark in us all, the more I unwind the me I no longer want to be and unbecome.
"Maybe the journey isn't so much about becoming anything. Maybe it's about un-becoming everything that you isn't really you so you can be who you were meant to be in the first place..." Anon
This quote may sound like something you would find on a cat poster somewhere but when I saw it the other day on a friend's Facebook feed it struck me. It is a near perfect quote at least for how I feel about my own journey.
I have long felt that I was someone. Someone special, someone full of love, someone kind, someone intelligent, someone meant to do something important. This wasn't something on my surface, but something deep down in my core. This wasn't something akin to fantasy either, though I have had plenty of those throughout my life, it was always something raw and true and essential to who I am at my core. I suspect many others feel the same about themselves.
I often think to myself when looking at my loved ones as they walk down the street and are passed by by others, "you people just brushed past someone extraordinary and you don't even know it." I look at Frank and think not enough people know how wonderful he is, how strong, how complicated, how fascinating, how patient, how special. I always feel that about my kids. I want to shake people who dismiss Dermot because he is a joy and everyone should see that. I feel sorry for people who don't give Wren time to warm up because she has so much wisdom in her tiny body. Similarly, my mother-in-law gives so much of herself to others, not stopping just at her family, but extending to those less fortunate, and people need to know that. Similarly, my father-in-law is a most non-judgement and loyal man and everyone should experience his acceptance. I could go on and on about all those close to me in my life.
It therefore strikes me that there are people I pass on the street who are also amazing and I don't even know it. I could be missing an opportunity to see their spark. I am rushing through my life, hurrying on to the next task and losing out on soul-nourishing connections. It strikes me that we are all special.
Throughout my life my own spark has dimmed over time. So much garbage built up around me that there was less and less space for the light to filter in and conversely filter out. This past year has been all about unwinding and starting again. It has been like a tangled ball of yarn worth taking the time to untangle. Once it got unkinked I was struck by the beauty of the thread and it was so worth saving rather than giving up and throwing it all away.
Perhaps this IS all about unbecoming those things I don't care for about myself, those things that aren't truly me. Perhaps it isn't so much about accumulating things and prestige and accolades, but more about getting rid of all that noise and slowing down to listen and see and be. The more I slow down and look every person I see in the eye and connect with them, the more I take the time to think, feel and look for the spark in us all, the more I unwind the me I no longer want to be and unbecome.
Monday, January 5, 2015
And "If" Has Become "When"
And "If" Has Become "When"
2014 was not an easy year. It wasn't all bad, but it wasn't easy. It started off as a nightmare, but it has been a year full of self-discovery and communication and understanding.
Frank and I have known each other for what seems like forever. We met in the cafeteria one Wednesday lunchtime at boarding school and neither of us and sports that afternoon so had time to sit and talk for a few hours. We were so young and found each other to be fascinating. That long conversation started a journey that has had ups and downs but has never been boring!
We were married after dating for six years and living together for about one. That was thirteen years ago now. We have dealt with fertility issues, the death of a child, Frank's cancer and my addiction. We have lost loved ones other than Liam and we have had financial challenges. We currently have two beautiful children and there has been a lot of laughter and a lot of tears. There has been excitement, there has been boredom, there has been passion and there has been drought. I cannot picture a life without him and I believe that feeling is mutual. Given that we have children together, we will be in each other's lives for the duration, but in what form?
We were married on December 29th and so after Christmas this year we went away overnight for our anniversary. We drove five hours east to outside of Pittsburgh so we could visit Frank Lloyd Wright's Falling Water. I had arranged that as a gift because I knew that Frank was interested in the house and finds architecture to be so fascinating. I fully expected to be bored since architecture generally isn't something that I am interested in myself. I was pleasantly surprised and found that whole experience to be lovely. We had a good time and the drive was well worth it. The length of time in the car allowed for some very deep conversations.
Sometimes the talk was difficult and sometimes it was easy. We talked about dreams for the future. We talked about bucket lists. We talked about fears and we talked about us. We DIDN'T talk much about the kids which is new and different for us. Dermot and Wren have long been our fall back, our steady common thread. To be sure, they are a favorite topic of conversation for both of us, but they can't be all we have in common. We can't put the mantle of our relationship on their little shoulders. It is too heavy and they aren't meant to carry that burden, it isn't fair.
When discussing fear it wasn't much of a surprise that for both of us, losing another child was the top of the list. Given that, I am able to see why it is so hard for him to trust me again since I put both Wren and Demot at risk when driving them impaired. It is easy for me to see the dilemma he faces even of it is hard for me to BE that dilemma. He wants me to tell him I will never drink again and though I could promise that, I can't. I can say that I no longer WANT to drink. I can tell him that I will never INTENTIONALLY turn to drink again, or put the kids at risk. I CAN Say that I will do everything I can to keep my addiction at bay and that I have great hope that this disease of mind and spirit will be kept at bay, but I can no more promise the certainty of it staying at bay than Frank can that his cancer will not return.
Many people reading this may not understand the above statement, but it is the truth. There are no guarantees in life, and that extends to addiction. I could lie and make promises in order to come home, but I can't do that anymore. I can't lie because that brings me one step closer to relapse.
So I spoke the scary truth to Frank and allowed him his struggle and hoped he would come to see his way clear to give us another shot. I spoke the scary truth but sat beside him in that car and listened to his fears and held his hand. A beautiful thing began to happen in the car on the way home. The language of our future changed from "if" I come home to "when" I come home.
2014 was not an easy year. It wasn't all bad, but it wasn't easy. It started off as a nightmare, but it has been a year full of self-discovery and communication and understanding.
Frank and I have known each other for what seems like forever. We met in the cafeteria one Wednesday lunchtime at boarding school and neither of us and sports that afternoon so had time to sit and talk for a few hours. We were so young and found each other to be fascinating. That long conversation started a journey that has had ups and downs but has never been boring!
We were married after dating for six years and living together for about one. That was thirteen years ago now. We have dealt with fertility issues, the death of a child, Frank's cancer and my addiction. We have lost loved ones other than Liam and we have had financial challenges. We currently have two beautiful children and there has been a lot of laughter and a lot of tears. There has been excitement, there has been boredom, there has been passion and there has been drought. I cannot picture a life without him and I believe that feeling is mutual. Given that we have children together, we will be in each other's lives for the duration, but in what form?
We were married on December 29th and so after Christmas this year we went away overnight for our anniversary. We drove five hours east to outside of Pittsburgh so we could visit Frank Lloyd Wright's Falling Water. I had arranged that as a gift because I knew that Frank was interested in the house and finds architecture to be so fascinating. I fully expected to be bored since architecture generally isn't something that I am interested in myself. I was pleasantly surprised and found that whole experience to be lovely. We had a good time and the drive was well worth it. The length of time in the car allowed for some very deep conversations.
Sometimes the talk was difficult and sometimes it was easy. We talked about dreams for the future. We talked about bucket lists. We talked about fears and we talked about us. We DIDN'T talk much about the kids which is new and different for us. Dermot and Wren have long been our fall back, our steady common thread. To be sure, they are a favorite topic of conversation for both of us, but they can't be all we have in common. We can't put the mantle of our relationship on their little shoulders. It is too heavy and they aren't meant to carry that burden, it isn't fair.
When discussing fear it wasn't much of a surprise that for both of us, losing another child was the top of the list. Given that, I am able to see why it is so hard for him to trust me again since I put both Wren and Demot at risk when driving them impaired. It is easy for me to see the dilemma he faces even of it is hard for me to BE that dilemma. He wants me to tell him I will never drink again and though I could promise that, I can't. I can say that I no longer WANT to drink. I can tell him that I will never INTENTIONALLY turn to drink again, or put the kids at risk. I CAN Say that I will do everything I can to keep my addiction at bay and that I have great hope that this disease of mind and spirit will be kept at bay, but I can no more promise the certainty of it staying at bay than Frank can that his cancer will not return.
Many people reading this may not understand the above statement, but it is the truth. There are no guarantees in life, and that extends to addiction. I could lie and make promises in order to come home, but I can't do that anymore. I can't lie because that brings me one step closer to relapse.
So I spoke the scary truth to Frank and allowed him his struggle and hoped he would come to see his way clear to give us another shot. I spoke the scary truth but sat beside him in that car and listened to his fears and held his hand. A beautiful thing began to happen in the car on the way home. The language of our future changed from "if" I come home to "when" I come home.
Thursday, January 1, 2015
I'm So Awkward
I'm so Awkward
The bizarreness that reigns between my ears is extraordinary. I am truly, truly strange and I am always, always so awkward. I have come to realize that we all are to some degree or other and as we grow up we just learn how to mask it as best we can.
I had a neighbor once who would leave me some of her art pieces and plants that she no longer wanted. She left a tall plant in a basket outside my door and I decided to leave it there by the entrance and dutifully watered it for a year before one of my other neighbors saw me do it and said, "you know that is a plastic plant right?" Yeah... I had just thought it was really hardy. Awkward.
Back in the day, Frank and I both used to smoke, Frank more so than me and quit on a dime when he was diagnosed with cancer because he is just that determined, but we both used to smoke nonetheless. One of the first office functions that Frank brought me to was a Christmas party. During the party we went outside for a cigarette and there were some other people from the office there. One of his colleagues offered to light our cigarettes and I took a first drag, started coughing and farted loudly. I thought Frank was going to faint in embarrassment and I thought I might die in all my black velvet glory. Awkward.
Once on a plane flying across the Atlantic, I went to the bathroom. There was a long line of people waiting and when it was my turn I got myself settled on the seat when the plane hit turbulence and the door flew open to reveal the still long line of people waiting. The man in the front of the line was so shocked he didn't seem to grasp the fact that I would need to stand up in order to close the door. I tried asking him to shut it for me, but we spoke different languages and alas I was forced to do just that. I stayed in the bathroom for a really, really long time before making my way back to my seat. Awkward.
As a college student I spent a year studying in London and worked my co-op at a studio so had my fair share of brushes with celebrities. By far the most epic was when I took myself to a movie off Kensington High Street. As was the practice in London, you had to have your bag searched before entry and I was standing in line to do so. They seemed to be rushing us through the process and I reasoned that someone important or famous as going to be coming. I went to the concession stand to buy some popcorn and turned around to find that Princess Diana was directly behind me. This was the period of time when she no longer had body guards and she was just standing there with a girlfriend. I got my popcorn and was so nervous that I dropped my change on the floor. I bent over to pick it up and all I could think was, Princess Diana is behind me and she's staring at my butt now... wonderful and oh so awkward.
There was the time as a teenager that my best friend and I went to another friend's house for the evening. This friend's family was deeply religious and I was very conscious of that fact and was trying to be very polite. We were all watching a movie with his parents when something shocking happened and in a desperate attempt to not swear, I yelled out "Jesus Christ" in shock at the scene on screen... Awkward.
Back when I got my first e-mail address and was new to e-mail, I responded to what I thought was an e-mail from Frank with a detailed and racy response and fired it off. When Frank called me later that day I mentioned the e-mail and he said he hadn't received it. You see Frank is the third so it turn out that his e-mail address and his dad's are remarkably similar, so I had sent a suggestive e-mail to the man who would become my father-in-law. I still haven't lived that one down and that was back in 1997. Awkward.
There are many, many other examples, so many that I have earned the right to laugh at myself almost daily. Now when I find myself in certain situations with other people I try to remember to diffuse it by simply saying, "well this is awkward", and then smiling. This usually makes it easier to deal with for everyone. What if we all agreed to just admit we are all awkward. What if we all recognized that we are spiritual beings having a human experience and that we are all perfectly flawed and beautifully human?
Happy New Year all.
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