Thursday, December 30, 2010

Tron and Perfectionism

I don't enjoy movies much, and theaters are particularly difficult. That said, I now live in the middle of nowhere, yet there is a theater. (A nice one!) Stadium seating. Popcorn. And only three of us in the theater. Suddenly movies in the theater are less intimidating. If I freak out, everyone there knows me and knows that I freak out. Which strangely enough makes it so I freak out less...

Tonight, I went to see the movie Tron: Legacy. I figured it would be a little strange, lots of cool lights, and a happy ending. (I only see movies with happy endings. Life has enough crap in it, movies should resolve nicely at the end.) I found myself sobbing at the end... not because it was sad, but because I identified with it.

*Spoiler Alert*
The Grid, the digital world, was supposed to be a perfect world. That was the whole mission. Daddy Flynn created this world. Then he created Clu, and gave him the job of creating the perfect world. This all went wrong. Daddy Flynn got trapped in his digital world. Son Flynn goes in to save him.

They are all about to escape and Clu says, "I did what you asked me to do. I created a perfect world!" Daddy Flynn's reply is what got me.
"Perfection is unknowable and right in front of us. I didn't know when I created you. How could you have known?"

I cried. All my life I have been searching for perfection. Taught that THAT was the goal. One day, if I worked hard enough God would make me perfect. In the next life, everyone would be perfect. I didn't know what that meant, but in my mind, we would all become the drones we pretend to be. We wouldn't have to pretend anymore. But thinking about that caused me dis-ease. What did perfection really mean? Would my friends with black skin suddenly become white? Would they suddenly have smooth hair and a nose that looked more like mine? Or would I suddenly have a nose more like theirs? Would I suddenly enjoy church and living the way I was trying so hard to live? Would gay friends suddenly not be gay anymore? Would there suddenly be no anger and no emotions? Would all of my wants and desires just suddenly go away?

The answer to all of those questions is, "No." We are all already perfect.One of my favorite authors is Miguel Ruiz. He supposed that the biggest lie is the lie of our imperfection. When Eve took a bite of the fruit of the tree of knowledge, the biggest lie took hold of her. The lie that there is good and bad. The lie that we aren't enough just as we are. Some of my biggest questions about the church have come from the story of Adam and Eve. It didn't make sense to me, but the way Miguel Ruiz explained it did make sense.

Because of that lie, we go searching for perfection, but we never find it. In our pursuit, we miss that it is already here. Eating disorders are (partially) about the quest for the perfect body, and the cure for that part of eating disorders is to realize that my body is perfect, because its MY body. Not because it looks a certain way. Not because I can push it to do things. Not because of anything except that its mine. And its perfect. If I need to sleep or eat or sit down, still perfect. If I can't fast, or stop myself from feeling pain, or push it to run a marathon, still perfect. If I sit in a wheelchair, still perfect.

The cure for perfectionism is to see that perfection is right in front of us. We don't have to go looking anywhere, because we've already found it.

Happy New Year

The other day, The Reader posted a blog entry about New Years Resolutions. Last year, I re-posted Beautiful You's blogs on New Years Dieting (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3)Part 3 was my favorite. She talked about balance. Finding balance in ALL areas of our lives.

In the past, I was one of those that made HUGE lists of resolutions, and I actually stuck to a lot of them, but still felt miserable. (Something about how no accomplishment was ever enough to make me feel good about myself.)

Around January - February of this year, there were two things that seemed really important for me to do:
1. I was going to stop forcing myself to do anything that I didn't want to do. This wasn't easy. We live in a world where we are SUPPOSED to put our wants and needs aside and do what everyone else wants. I was raised in a church that almost had me believing that wanting anything was wrong. And if I just did what I wanted, I was absolutely positive the sun would explode and everyone would die. I was so afraid that if I only did what I wanted, I would be a really horrible, selfish, mean, awful person. That lead me to the second thought:

2. I wasn't going to let fear and guilt run my life. I had no idea what that would look like, but I was absolutely sure I wanted to change my life. If doing what I wanted meant the sun would explode, I decided that would have to be okay. I was not going to be afraid anymore. I wasn't going to let the guilt rule me. And whatever happened, would happen.

And now, here I am. Some might say that was a bad choice. If I was still letting fear and guilt rule me, and if I was forcing myself to do things I didn't want to do, I'd be at church every week. I would still be married to Dann. I would have been to every family party and get together. I would have done a lot more service this year. I would have worked a lot more hours than I did. I wouldn't live where I live. I wouldn't have spent the time to get to know me.

I wouldn't love who I am. I would still be thinking about how to kill myself without hurting anyone. I would still be distant and miserable, but not know why. I would be even more distant from my family. I would not have had the conversations with any of my siblings or parents that I have had. I would not have come to terms with my body. I'd still be broken in a million different pieces, but pretending like I was whole. I would feel trapped. I would still be letting fear and guilt rule me. How can that be a bad choice?

As I think about the coming year, I plan to relax and enjoy my life.
Thus far it has been one helluva ride, and I can't wait to see where it goes next.

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Giving in to the pain

Since moving, I am a lot calmer. I have a lot less anxiety. Less flashbacks. Less nightmares. The one thing that I cannot seem to get rid of, is the body memories. The physical pain with no physical explanation. I hurt. Its hard when I know there is no reason to hurt, and it still HURTS.

With flashbacks, I have learned how to go into them, stay present enough to "watch" them. (Like I'm watching a movie. Paying attention to what happens, how I feel, what thoughts and emotions stick out to me.) I get a blanket and a pillow, curl up on the floor, and go through it. There was a time when they were so intense, I would get "stuck" in them. For hours, my body would shake as if I was going through a seizure. I would be lost in the past. Reliving horrible scenes over and over, and I couldn't bring myself back to the present. That's not the case anymore.

So, last night as I was getting ready for bed, I realized that body memories are just a form of flashbacks. The key is "giving in" to them just like I have given in to the flashbacks. Its just so easy for me to push them away. Its just PAIN, and I can work through, push through, and ignore physical pain pretty easily. Since I want to get better, its time to stop ignoring it.

So I got my blanket and my pillow and curled up in front of the fireplace. I took a deep breath, and felt the pain. Immediately, the only thought in my mind was, "I held my own legs out of his way."

Some backstory:
With Larry, if I fought him or said no, he fought back, and I lost. The bishop told me a good wife keeps her husband happy. (To his credit, I didn't tell him what was happening to me. I didn't know that what Larry was doing was wrong. How could I explain it to someone else?) Larry had talked to him about his "sins", and the bishop called me in to talk to just me. It was a great conversation...

So, I stopped fighting.Out of what I thought was love, or duty, or trying to be a "good" wife... I adapted a position that brought the least amount of pain to me, and still let him do what he "needed" to do.

As I laid in front of the fireplace last night,
I felt the pain of that complete and total betrayal of myself.
I felt the pain of realizing there was no love in that experience whatsoever. Not him for me. Not me for him. And not the bishop who told me what I needed to do. Zero love.
I felt the pain of understanding that my experience was nothing like what most people experience.
Mostly, I felt the pain of betraying myself. I helped him rape me. That hurts.

I cried. For about forty-five minutes. I apologized to myself for letting him hurt me. I apologized to me for helping him hurt me. I held myself in my own arms. And then I felt that piece go away. My body relaxed. The body memory pain was gone, and I went to bed and slept soundly.

I share these things now, because three years ago when I started all of this, I was too ashamed to share with ANYONE. I didn't have the words to describe the nightmare that was my life. For nearly two years, I went through flashbacks like this one, all on my own (except for when BJ was around), and I sorted it out. It was hell. I wasn't sure I would survive. I did.

This is the kind of work I had to do to become who I am today. I had to see the truth that I couldn't see ten years ago while it was happening. I'm still working. HARD. I just don't have to do it as much or as often as I used to. I can write about one singular experience now... Last year, there were too many happening all at once and all the time, and I couldn't pick out one thing to write about.

I hope I didn't trigger anyone. If I did, talk to someone about it? I'm willing to talk any time.


Jeff asked me to explain why the lesson on spirituality was so upsetting to me. We talked for a long time, and I really enjoyed the conversation. I also wanted to write down my thoughts. And ask any one who reads this their thoughts.

The questions that started the lesson:
Can you make your body do this or that or not do this or...?
These questions are fine if you can answer the "right" answer to all of them.
Yes. I can make my body walk. Good. Then YOU are good.
Yes. I can make my body fast. Good. Then YOU are good.
Yes. I can make my body get up early. Good. Then YOU are good.
Yes. I can make my body respond properly (according to the church's definition). Good. Then YOU are good.

And what if I can't? Then what?
Am I less of a person? Is my spirit not as strong as someone who can?
I have done everything I could possibly think of to do to show that my spirit was (is?) stronger than my body. Or to show that my mind is stronger than my body. Ignore pain. Ignore emotions. Ignore tiredness. Hunger. Needs. Wants. And somehow all of those things showed that I was good.

What about when I couldn't walk? (I mean really I COULD walk. I totally pushed through, but then I passed out in the bathroom, and Duani yelled at me, and I had to learn to STOP trying to will my body to do things it shouldn't do.)

And, I CAN'T fast. I fall over. Besides the fact that my mind goes beyond screwy. Then I hear lessons like this one and feel ashamed. So much shame. That I am not good enough. I need to try harder. BE better.

I DO feel anger. I can't make it just go away. But I will try my damndest. And feel ashamed for every time that I feel anger. How is that good for me? How is that good for anyone?

The lesson finishes with a story about riding horses. Something I am very passionate about. The final quote from the story was,
"Son, don’t ever let the horse do something you know he shouldn’t. Never let him have his way unless it is what you want him to do. If he ever thinks he’s in charge, you’re a goner.’ I found that I had all the equipment I needed to work with that horse: bridle, harness, straps, and saddle. All these helped, but nothing worked if I didn’t insist on obedience. I had to be in charge, and the horse needed to learn that. As I worked with him, he learned what was expected and what was and was not allowed. We became good friends, but both he and I knew who was in charge.”
When I ride, I don't "insist on obedience". I just couldn't do that. Sunny and I have spent enough time together that he trusts me. He listens when I ask him to do things most of the time. I also trust him. When he refuses to do what I ask, I pay attention. There are things that I can see (and plan for) that he cannot. (Horses lack the ability to plan ahead.) There are things he can see and understand that I can't. (Horses have an amazing sense of direction and intuition - as in tune as I could possibly get, he'll be better.)

The relationship I have with Sunny is amazing. He has helped me change my life, but if I never trusted him to lead me, I would not be where I am today. To my way of thinking, our bodies and spirits are intertwined. We have to trust both, and by learning to "control" the body with shame, we lose a most precious gift.

Its been pointed out to me that most twelve year old boys are listening too much to their bodies, and not enough to anything else. Possibly. But my take is, the overly selfish, involved with their bodies way of thinking is completely appropriate developmentally. A twelve year old boy is SUPPOSED to be paying attention to himself.

And then I think about Parker. He's now fourteen, although still struggles to allow himself to eat, or rest, or stop serving for longer than a few seconds. If someone doesn't show him how to STOP, he won't survive. I was blessed to get to go to CFC, but what will he do? He's STILL being taught to give, serve, love others more than himself, and I know better than most, he may not survive those teachings.

If we really listen to our bodies, our spirits, our hearts, our intuition, or whatever we want to call it, we are powerful beings. I don't believe the idea that controlling our bodies (or our emotions) comes from God. Working with, trusting, directing, all seem to be appropriate...

I can't think of a time that shame ever works for our good... but I've been wrong before. What do you think?

Friday, December 24, 2010

"Blast this Christmas music. It's joyful AND triumphant."

Christmas is hard for me. I know its supposed to be a time full of happiness and joy and good things. It just isn't for me. I'm stressed. Anxiety through the roof, and I can't even really tell you what I'm anxious about. This past week I have felt urges that I haven't felt since... well... probably since last Christmas...

I have wanted to just take whatever I had to take to make me go away mentally. Then I can be wherever anyone wants me to be physically, but I don't actually have to be there. (I have prescription anti-anxiety meds. They make me a little TOO out of it. I was told to stop taking them, so I did. But... I have never thrown them away just in case I might "need" them one day. I find comfort in knowing that I have a way out. I'm not going to throw them away, even now, because even though I will never take them, I still feel comforted knowing I could. Or something.)

Anyways, BJ told me to go back and read what I wrote after Thanksgiving. He pointed out that I was stressed and scared then, but it turned out okay. Better than okay. He's smart. It helped some, but this also FEELS different. Today just feels icky. Here is me trying to sort this one out.

Being in my parents' home is still hard. Often, I revert back to some former form of myself. Christmas has so many "traditions" and all traditions feel like to me are old memories of things I don't want to remember. And some good things that I do want to remember... But. Oh. Even the good things bring pain right now. Dann has always worked so hard to make Christmas special and fun and good. Even when we didn't have money, or things were really bad between us, he made Christmas awesome! Remembering all of our Christmases together is sad, because I don't have him in my life like I used to. We're still friends, and... still, its just not the same.

I really struggle to let other people buy things for me. I have often NEEDED Christmas. I refused to buy anything for myself, so things got worn out, and Christmas was about my needs.

I was always told that I shouldn't want anything. And with Christmas, it just gets stronger. I shouldn't want presents, but I shouldn't buy anything for myself, so I really need some things, but I shouldn't, because I can do without, and there are others that don't have anything. I should give my presents to them. But my family likes to give to me, so I have to accept whatever they give graciously, but I don't want it, because I shouldn't want presents. What a horrible cycle I've gotten myself into!!!!!

Add that to, the belief that I can never give enough. No matter how much money I spend, or how much time I put into presents, or how much I think about the perfectly right gift, I will still feel bad for not doing more.


This year, I am going to do it differently.

I have done better at taking care of my own needs and wants, so there is nothing I need.
I like presents. I will admit that to others and to myself. I like getting things. I like seeing what others have picked out for me, and I like just opening gifts. Even tearing the paper, I love it.
I like watching others open presents. If its not the perfect gift, oh well. If its a horrible gift, I hope they enjoy exchanging it. And I hope we can laugh about how horrible it was.
I will smile at the memories that were happy. Cry for the changes that are sad. Create new memories.
I will participate in the traditions I want to participate in, and I won't participate in the parts I don't like.
And if at any moment, it all gets too much for me, I have a home to come to. I have a place where I feel safe and comfortable.
If I decide to spend Christmas alone, I'll be in great company.
This year, I'll think I'll just try living.

Just writing all this down, I feel better. Lighter.
Who knows, maybe I'll even like Christmas this year.

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

My tears should have been "No" enough for you.

Sometimes I beat myself up for not saying "No" strong enough.
Other times I beat myself up for saying "No" at all (to Larry).

If someone is going to be that close to me, and NOT know that I don't want them there, then there's something seriously wrong with THEM.

My tears. My panic. My shaking. It should have been enough.
If they had wanted to know, they would have known.

They DID know? And they shouldn't have done it.

Monday, December 20, 2010

I hate labels, but how else do I explain it?

I've been spending a lot of time on MoHo blogs (Mormon Homosexuals). That is where I feel most at home. I identify with them more than any other blogs, but its not because of my sexuality per se. Here is my effort to define myself.

As a girl, I had no interest in boys. My friends all had crushes and boys they thought were cute. I didn't. Just not interested. As a teenager, I was terrified of boys. I knew I was supposed to be dating, after all I was sixteen and that's what sixteen year old girls do, but I had no interest. I had the opposite of interest, I wanted to run the other way.

I went to college, and there were lots of boys interested in me. I knew the next step in my life was to get married. I did that. He didn't treat me very well. I had no idea that there was anything better...

We divorced. I went on several dates and had a lot of guy friends, until I met Dann. We got serious really fast, and then dated for a long time before we got married.

For two years, we went camping, and slept in the same tent just the two of us. We went on vacations and stayed in the same hotel, and sometimes slept in the same bed. I stayed at his house overnight on more than one occasion. And we never had any "morality problems". Really. The worst thing we ever did while dating was he kissed me while I was laying down. I freaked out. I went to the bishop and confessed my sins. He told me to be careful. I didn't want to do anything I would regret.

Because I was raised a good Mormon girl, I honestly believed that the fact that Dann and I were never tempted by sex to be a good thing. Funny how I thought it would change once we got married. It didn't. I tried. For his sake, I tried.

He really wanted kids, and I thought I wanted them too. I was willing to lay there while he planted his seed, but once I actually got pregnant, I realized I did NOT want that. I still wanted to be willing and I still wanted to try for him, but I wasn't and I didn't.

Fast forward a few years. Dann still wanted sex and babies. I was still trying to figure out how to want that too. I'd talk about how I needed to learn to like it, or just force myself to do it anyways. I knew deep down it would never be anything but a chore for me. I tried, but really... I couldn't make myself like sex any more than I can make myself like liver and onions.(Who eats that anyways?)

Dann and I are divorcing. Sex and babies were really what finally pushed us over the edge. He wanted it. He kept expecting me to change. I kept expecting me to change. Only, I didn't know how to change that.

Am I lesbian? I don't know. I can't really picture being with a woman any more than I can picture being with a man. The idea of sex just makes me nauseous. I have no desire to marry, or create children.

So, if I'm not straight, and I'm not gay, what am I?
I've never met anyone else like me. The closest I have come is people in the MoHo world.

When I read MoHo blogs, I can understand their pain of not fitting in. I can relate to the pain of trying to change something that seems impossible to change. I have prayed and prayed to "not be so selfish", only to continue to just be me. I feel like my parents can relate to the struggle of having a gay child. I will never have the life my parents wanted for me.

Right now, I feel at peace with myself and my sexuality (or lack of it?). I want intimacy in my life, but I don't need physical intimacy. I want friends. I don't want to be tied to one person. I don't want anyone to ever own my body but me. Could all this change as I continue to heal? Yes, but I'm not counting on it. I have freed Dann to find someone who will give him what he wants, which has freed both of us up to be friends. Without the pressures of trying to be his wife, I really like him.

I was raised to believe that sex was bad until it was good. I was raised to believe that my spirit was female, and that I was destined to be a wife and mother for all eternity. When I didn't fit into that world, it was just one more thing that was wrong with me. But the truth is, there is nothing wrong with me.

I am a beautiful, strong, compassionate woman, and I don't need to change a thing.

Sunday, December 19, 2010

I wish...

I was reading in the book Above the Clouds. Her story has a lot of parallels to my own, but there was one that I wasn't expecting.

She talked about going to school to become a massage therapist. She wanted to heal the world with non-sexual touch. I hadn't thought about it in a long time, but when I was nineteen, I wanted to do the same thing. I saw friends at CFC (the first time - back in 1997). They had been hurt by touch. Horribly abused, and I saw the need for some positive touch in their lives. I wanted to become a massage therapist for that reason. I planned on using my massage therapy to work me through school and get a degree in psychology as well. I knew I couldn't practice both together, but I wanted to learn how to heal people in every way I could.

I was engaged to Larry. He didn't want any wife of his becoming a massage therapist. He didn't want people touching me. He didn't want me touching other people. He hated everything about it. So I didn't do it.

As I read about Angie, I cried. I felt both sad and angry.
This was just one more instance of when I gave up what I wanted and what I thought was best to make someone else happy. I thought I could do some good, but then gave it up with the belief that I could do more good as his wife. It was a choice I made, based on the knowledge I had at the time.

If I think about it, I am still terrified of touch. Would I have survived going to massage therapy school? Would it have triggered me so much I couldn't have handled it? I still have not gone to get a massage. Its been a therapy assignment for almost three years... There is no way I could have done both school and go through the hell I was going through with Larry. It just wouldn't have worked. The way I dealt with my life was to completely disconnect from my body and soul.

I wish I would have known my true gifts and my true strength.
I wish I would have known who I was.
I wish I could have stood up for myself and what I wanted.

And I'm grateful I know and understand more now.

Sunday, December 12, 2010

Trusting my Divine Intuition

In January 2008, there was a lot going on in my life. Eating disorder had become intense. Therapy seemed to be making things worse between Dann and I. I felt very alone. I felt crazy. I was working at BYU. Thursday mornings we shut down the office as required and listened to the devotional. To be honest, I rarely listened. I usually turned it on my computer, and then worked through it. On this day, my computer wouldn't work. My co-worker, Todd, was concerned that I wouldn't get to hear Elder Eyring and forced me to come sit in his office.

I grabbed my journal and sat down. Eyring talked about trials and the power of deliverance. I don't remember any other part of what he said, but one line caught me so strongly it was as if the ground had fallen out from underneath me. I was falling. Fast. I couldn't breath. I couldn't see. The desks around me seemed to vanish. And at the same time, the weight that had been pressing down on me for as long as I could remember seemed to shift. Not lift. Not go away, just moved a little.

The direct quote was, "He knows you perfectly. He knows your heart. He can know which of the many things you can do that will be best for you as you invite the Holy Ghost to comfort and bless you. He will know where it is best for you to start. Sometimes it will be to pray. It might be to go to comfort someone else.
There are many ways that the Savior can succor those who grieve, each fitted to them. But you can be sure that He can and that He will do it in the way that is best for those who grieve and for those around

All I heard was, "YOU know the way. YOU know what you need to do to heal. DO it. Stop fighting, and do what needs to be done."

The rest of that day I heard that same thing OVER and OVER and OVER. And from that moment, I just decided to trust me. If I was hurting, and the thought came to call someone, I called that person. And then I paid attention to the things I said and the things they said, and from then on, every phone call had significance. If the thought came to me to go somewhere, or do something, or say something, I just did. Some of it looked pretty damn crazy. I felt like I was losing my mind. And now, as I look back, I can trace the beginning of my healing to THAT moment.

Tonight, I was reading in Kiley's blog, and she talked about something similar.
"I no longer really search for answers outside of myself.  My sister’s affirmation, “I am enough” translated to “I have my own answers” for me today."
There have been many times when I doubted me, and that is when I get in trouble. When I listen to ME, I get where I want to go, and I do it pretty fast. When I worry what others will think, I get lost, and I suffer. (Not in the "I'm being punished" sort of suffering, more in the Buddhist "lost in illusions" sort of suffering.)

I went a month with no nightmares. Anonymous sent me a letter, and suddenly, I am trying to make Anonymous happy. I am trying to fix the problems that Anonymous thinks I have. Simultaneously, my nightmares are back.

I'm reminded of a quote from the book, The Princess Who Believed in Fairy Tales:
"You're lost. One often gets lost when they use someone else's map."
(Sidenote: This book is an excellent allegory on codependent relationships. I found it very helpful, although difficult to read at times. There was actually a time where I threw the book across the room. I hated that it was telling the story of my life, because I didn't want THAT to be my life.)

This is MY journey. Since that day in January, almost three years ago, it has been a spectacular journey. All because I finally began to accept the divine intuition that has always been there, and will always be there. My journey hasn't been mine alone. My spectacular journey intersected with some other spectacular journeys. It has been and continues to be amazing.

Thanks for the reminder Kiley, I needed that.

Guilt is Not the Spirit

I got an anonymous message last week. Ever since then, I've been hurting. Stuck in a place that I never, EVER want to go back to. And that's exactly what this message told me to do. Go back. It used the words temple, and sacred, and should. I got the message Sunday. Every night since, nightmares. All night. Night terrors where I couldn't wake up. And when I finally did wake up, drenched in a cold sweat. I'm talking soaked me, soaked pajamas, soaked sheets and pillows. (I know. Gross!) Tonight I woke up crying and shaking and moaning, "I'm not going back. I don't want to go back. Please... PLEASE, don't make me go back."

Funny thing is, so many people at church would try to use my nightmares as a reason to do what they want me to do. Its the Spirit talking to me. The guilt I feel IS the spirit. Bullshit. But they still say it. And I've believed it. There is a tiny voice inside me screaming, "I KNOW you've believed this before, but please don't believe it now. Please don't take us back to that time when you didn't stand up for yourself. When you let yourself be led by fear and guilt. Please don't ever do that to us again!"

How do I convince that little voice that I won't go back? I will still take care of me. I don't care what some asshole says, I won't sacrifice myself like that EVER again.

When Dann was working on changing himself, I recognized it would take a while for me to trust him again. Just because he hadn't hurt me TODAY, didn't mean that I felt safe with him. I guess I just don't trust me yet.

Not sure how to convince myself that I can be trusted, but I'll start with this:
Guilt is an emotion. Just like every other emotion. Emotions serve a purpose, and it does me good to pay attention to them. Then I get to choose what I do with each emotion. Whether I act on them or not. Just because I feel angry does not mean I need to lash out or hurt someone. Just because I feel guilty does not mean I shouldn't do what I feel guilty about. It is perfectly okay for me to do what I want to do. It is perfectly okay for me to not do what everyone else tells me I should do.

I refuse to let my life be run by fear or guilt. I DO feel guilty and afraid right now. That doesn't mean I am going to do anything with those emotions. I am more important than any feeling of guilt. I will protect and take care of myself.

Saturday, December 11, 2010

Not my Ducky

Last night, I randomly decided to go to a Christmas party. It was a group of friends I was never really close to and I haven't seen in years. I've kept in touch (sorta) through facebook and email, but...anyways, I'm talking with the two out of three people I actually knew there, and a dude came in and announced someone left their lights on. "Bummer for them," I thought, and kept on chatting away. A little while later, they said, "It's a Lexus. Tan. License plate dah-de-dah-dah." And all I thought was, "Not me. No Lexus for me..."

Back story: I'm driving Dann's car while he is in Cali. Its a Lexus. The lights turn on and off automatically. Except that if you don't push the little "Lock" button on the remote, they don't turn off. They stay on. Until the battery is dead. I never lock my doors. I drive a car that is held together by duct tape... seriously... why would I bother locking the doors? That might stop someone from stealing it. And if someone wants to take my duct tape car (Lovingly nicknamed Ducky by my brother.) I don't want to stop them. It barely even crossed my mind to push that little button.

I left the party early. As I walked out, down the hill a little to where I parked my car, I saw the very dim lights of a Lexus. Right. Where. My. Car... Dannngit!

Now, I'm going to have to walk back into that party and tell people that I was that dumb. Only, I didn't want to. I had the thought that I would just curl up in the trunk and stay the night. Apparently, I have a lot more common sense than I used to have, because I didn't do it. I called my mom instead. I hoped she'd laugh at me enough to give me the courage to walk back in. Instead, she told me they weren't too far away, and they'd come jump me. My heroes!

The combination of new-fangled cars confused us for a second, but Mel is a genius, so no one got electrocuted.  And the best part? They came fast enough that no one from the party knew I left my lights on, forgot what car I drove, and completely killed the battery. Phew. All those people that don't know me will still think I'm smrt... if they ever think about me at all...

Monday, December 6, 2010

So much to live for!

There are a lot of things I want to write about. I'm not sure why I haven't... maybe because my life is busy and full of things I like doing. I was great at blogging and journaling when life sucked. It was my escape. It was the way I coped. One of the only ways I could deal. (I guess it also helped that I never slept...)

Its different now. I am still thinking and processing and working through things all the time, but I don't feel eager to sit down and write. I'd rather be living. Working with Sunny. Or just watching him, without the computer to distract me from the joy I feel when he runs. Playing the violin or the piano. Working. Talking with friends. Eating. Cooking. Watching TV. (I do that now. Dog Whisperer is my current favorite. I also like Phineas and Ferb as well as Mythbusters.) Reading (books and blogs). Sitting in the sun. Watching the snow fall.

At CFC, I was given the assignment to just relax. I wasn't allowed to do any assignments. No binder. Or notebook. Just sit and talk to people without anything in my hands. It was HARD for me. Partially because I felt anxious to get the work done. I wanted to heal, and if it took doing assignments 24/7, that's what I would do. And, the word "relax" was incredibly triggering, so how could I do it after someone told me to do it? I also felt so much anxiety if I wasn't DOING something productive.

Lately, I am very much alive, and have no need to be DOING something productive just so I can pretend to be alive. Its hard to describe. Now, most of my trials or struggles are like normal people trials. Like, car troubles. My car has issues. The engine is going out. That's a pain. The thing about my car is: it has had troubles for years. It is seventeen years old, and I haven't taken good care of it. Its just that... now, since that is the one of the only troubles I have in my life... I care about my car.

I don't know quite how to describe my life now... other than... normal.

Don't get me wrong. I still have nightmares occasionally. Flashbacks sometimes. Nasty emails from cowardly people. Doubts. Fears. Questions. Screwy thinking. But... it used to be that those things were the constant, and the moments of peace were the rarity.

As I was reading in a blog tonight, (I can't remember which one. I'm really sorry. I read and commented on a lot.) I read about how the author now fears death. She wants to believe in God, because she wants to believe that there is an afterlife.

I have never been afraid of death. I have hoped for it for most of my life. In the past six months, I have started to really enjoy living. It makes sense to me that as I start to love life, death would become the enemy. Its NOT the enemy yet, but I can see that happening... There is much to live for: horses to work with, rides to go on, mountains to climb, friends to talk to, goals to accomplish, places to see and explore, things to think about and wonder about, music to listen to, and write, and play.