God Likes to Travel

It was always so hard to get out of bed in the morning. Until today.

I realized I need not relinquish God to the warmth and safety of my bed – to leave Him there and then spend my day longing to return to Him. How horrid a day it is without God – the long and lonely hours.

No more. God travels easily with me, forever in my mind and mine in His. I just have to remember to bring Him with me, to let Him come along.

To Medicate or Not…

This is not the first post I’ve done regarding my decisions to make use of pharmaceuticals. It seems to be an ongoing ‘dilemma’ for me.

I don’t doubt that many people face similar questioning about whether meds are the right choice. Everyone’s situation is different though and so the question should always be directed inward – Why am I choosing this and what, or who, am I trying to protect? The answer will come in honest seeking.

For me, it appears, that at least for now, the medicating will continue.

Seek and ye shall find:

Perhaps my imperfections are meant to teach me something. I get it.

This dilemma about whether to increase my meds or not – why am I against it? What am I trying to prove? Perhaps it’s a lesson in letting go of preconceived, self-made notions of how things should be, letting go of rules and ideas around purity being obtained through my own actions, that in some way strict adherence to a list of commandments will offer me my salvation.

But how could I have been made with imperfections to begin with if Perfection itself made me? Precisely! The so-called imperfection was made Perfectly and therefore not an imperfection at all.

Ah, at first an epiphany but then more confusion comes. I can accept the depression but how do I live with it? It’s all-consuming, at its worst, and I am lost – not the ‘real’ me, of course, that’s still inside. But it’s been barricaded.

With medication the barricades are no longer concrete walls. Rather they are pesky nets of weeds, no longer impenetrable, but a nuisance nonetheless and a hindrance to joy.

The Joy is there, this I know.

If more medication could obliterate the weeds and offer a direct path to joy, why would I not take it? Because it’s Joy I want, not joy. I want Truth, not oblivion.

Why would I take a piece when I could have the whole? But could a piece of Wholeness be not whole?

Why would you allow yourself to struggle still?

Why would you enter the dark forest in search of light when you stand in it already? Or rather, why would you not step out of the dark forest and expose yourself to the light?

Do you fear the light? You don’t know it, do you? All you know is darkness so you keep yourself enveloped in its safety.

You’re afraid of what you’ll see.

But medication’s not of God.

Who says? Did God not make the mind of man that made the medication?

But depression’s not of God?

Who says? See it not of God and it’s a curse for sure!

Apart from its whole, you know not what it is. The image on the puzzle piece means nothing until it’s put in place. And the whole image can’t be seen without its pieces.

If the wholeness of God is joy, allow yourself to be the piece you were meant to be.

You’re so afraid of joy. You know not what it is.

It’s true.

Medication can’t touch me, truly. But in believing it can I keep myself in body, fearful of its demise.

Let go of your body, little mind, and find solace in My offering to you. My Joy cannot be found in your weak protection of your self. Fear not. Let go of your self and find Me.

I know not what I’ll find in Joy. It’s true – I am afraid.

I continue to see myself as separate, trying to make my piece whole, alone.

Yet a ray of light shines not at all without the sun.

I’m a defiant little ray. I’ve known darkness for so long. I have no idea how bright I could truly be in union with the sun.

Does the type of bridge I cross to freedom truly matter? I think not. All that matters is that I choose to cross it. The paths are all different but the destination is the same.

The instruction is not to devise your own path but to seek His will in all you do and He will direct your path.

RE – A Mighty Prefix, Another Chance

A recent interaction with my husband has me sitting in a spot that is painful and uncomfortable, and also unknown.

I’m in uncharted territory. I’m not clamoring to get out. There’s something happening here and I just need to sit and watch.

Don’t get me wrong. I am not in a peaceful, pensive, in-control spot.

I’m panicked on the inside; in a state of complete confusion and bewilderment. I think this has been the catalyst of a very steep spiraling down of my mood.

I’ve landed right back at square one in terms of mood, eating disorder and overall emotional well-being.

But, I’m still here. And while the circumstances of the past may all be playing out again, I am not the same person going through them. I think I’m getting another chance.

The things I’m still holding, still resisting, will keep touching the nerves until the thorn has been eradicated.

Round two, here we go!

Even though I still feel like I’m in a very vulnerable place, my view point has definitely changed. The reactions still come, aggressively and shockingly angrily at times, but the time from spike back to plateau is not lasting as long. That’s how I know there has been change.

I saw my husband last week. I had given him an April 30th deadline for letting me know if he was going to go into treatment.

He responded on May 1st, via text, telling me that he would see the counselor one more time but that it had been almost a year since I left him and though a bit upset he felt encouraged that he’d made it a year on his own. He likes who he is, he just needs some fine-tuning.

I didn’t respond. I cried. It just sounded to me like he was okay with things and was moving on.

I felt rejected and dismissed.

I felt sad that his takeaway from the past year has been that, in some way, I just don’t like who he is. That there’s something ‘wrong’ with him. Not true.

I pondered this. There doesn’t seem to be any objective truth in either of our ‘sides’, only our own personal interpretation which drives our behaviors and actions.

I went over to the house later that day. I’m not sure it was a good idea or not but I was sad and wanted to see my dog.

I arrived and my husband was standing at the back door. He just looked at me, threw up his hands, said that he’d been drinking, and walked away.

I replied that it didn’t matter, I’d just come to see my dog.

Several minutes later we were in a heated discussion and he dropped a bombshell.

He told me that I am the reason he drinks.

I became irate. I screamed. I yelled. I threw things. I stomped. I slammed. I wanted to hit him. I didn’t.

I ran downstairs, ready to make a swift exit. My mind was rolling and I could see it – I wanted to run, drive, call all my friends and family, tell them all how he has betrayed me, tell them what he said to me. I wanted to tell everyone what a horrible monster he was.

But why?

I wanted to be right. But, I looked further down the road and knew that no consolation would make the pain more bearable. It would still be inside me, stirring the cauldron of self-pity, rejection, guilt, shame, betrayal, unworthiness.

I stood in the basement, alone and shaking, knowing that other than being right in the pain, any other action would only be a mask.

The pain was indescribable but I was still alive. It wasn’t killing me.

I took deep breaths. I could hear my husband upstairs, sobbing.

I know I am not the reason for his drinking. I may be a thorn in his side that hits his nerves, but I am only one of many.

I went upstairs. He thought I had left and, still sobbing, asked what I was still doing there. I shrugged. He hugged me.

I lightly returned the hug, feeling completely empty. I wasn’t filled with love but I didn’t have hate in my heart either. I just felt like we were two people who were hurt, doing the best we could, trying to protect ourselves from further pain.

After that episode, we lay in bed talking. I asked probing questions to which he was responding openly.

He dropped another bombshell which, for me, was worse than the first.

He told me that shortly before we were married he thought about leaving me. He wasn’t sure if this was really the life he wanted.

I was non-reactive and accepted his words as his truth. The tears were unstoppable though and they rolled, in streams, down my cheeks. He didn’t seem to be concerned about my tears.

I left shortly thereafter. My life, to this point, now felt like a complete untruth, a total charade. It was never real.

I don’t even know if he meant any of what he said that day or if it was his way of protecting himself from further pain and rejection. I think the latter is the case but I will never know.

My whole identity, though I question ever having one to begin with, has been shattered.

I know not what I was. I know not who I am. I know nothing beyond this breath.

A me I thought I was was never really real.

I think I have spent the past week in mourning.

And I don’t even feel a need to rebuild.

I am feeling overwhelmed by all the things sitting in my apartment right now. I don’t want anything. I want to throw it all away.

I’ve started packing.

My lease is up soon.

I don’t know where I will move. I may even move back home.

You see, the marriage isn’t even a thing to me right now. It was a game.

Nothing was real.

We’re just two people. We went looking for happiness in each other and blamed and pointed fingers when the other fell short.

It still hurts. I’m still letting go.

This dying to self thing, no wonder the gate is narrow.

The Undercurrent of My Human Mind

I stand in front of the vending machine, mid-morning. My eyes dart back and forth between the whole wheat bagel with light cream cheese and the blueberry muffin.

I can’t decide. The thoughts and questioning roll in like thunder clouds.

Which would be the better choice? I like muffins. I’d rather have an oatmeal muffin though (but blueberry is my only option). I’m not sure I feel like a bagel. Maybe the bagel is healthier. The bagel is probably going to fill me up more. I wonder if I’ll feel too full. Will that be too many carbs today? I can only imagine the amount of sugar in either option. I wonder how much high fructose corn syrup is in the bagel and cream cheese. I really should stay away from the HFCS – that stuff is killing the world. Remember that documentary? You’re falling into the trap of the “big guy” feeding you this sugar crap. I’ve put so much effort into eating healthy. This is going to kill my healthy glow. I’m hungry though. These are my options. You really should have been more prepared than this. Why do you have to eat at all? Why can’t you just NOT eat? Ah, so little will-power. You’re such a needy person. Stop it! Focus! You need to eat! Try thinking about it. Which one would taste better to you? I can’t decide. The muffin looks small. Hmm. My eyes dart back and forth again and again and again. What should I eat? Oh, come on! Stop thinking about what you should eat – try and tap into what you would prefer. I try to imagine eating both options and what each would taste like. I still can’t decide. Fuck! Just pick you stupid idiot! It shouldn’t be this hard. It’s just a bagel and muffin. But it’s not just a bagel and muffin. There are consequences to this choice. Fuck, you are fucked! If only people could hear you. They’d think you’re nuts! Surely I can’t be the only one who thinks like this. Why can’t I just be normal. Fuck, would you focus already and just fucking pick! Okay, okay. Hmm. Okay, I’ll get the bagel.

I put in the $2 and the bagel drops down. I guiltily take my bad choice from the trough and walk back to my desk. You shouldn’t be eating this. This isn’t food. It’s fake food. It’s filled with sugar and unnatural ingredients you can’t even pronounce. Oh stop. It’s just food. Remember what the bible says – it’s not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person. Yeah, I know. But what comes out of my mouth is no good either. I’m such an evil person. There’s no goodness in me. I am wicked and will never find the way to heaven. If only people knew how evil you are. Oh stop it. Don’t identify with that voice. It’s your ego messing with you. It’s just a bagel.

I open the bagel and spread one half with cream cheese. What would B think? He told you that if it isn’t real, raw and organic than don’t eat. Why are you eating this crap? He’d be so disappointed. He wouldn’t even want to be in your presence if he knew what you were doing to your body. You’re such a disgrace. Fat, fat, fat. Ugly, ugly, ugly. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Shame on you, shame on you, shame on you. Oh fuck it! B doesn’t give a shit about me anyway. He couldn’t care any less about me and isn’t wasting his time thinking about me so stop thinking about him. He’s not God. Remember what the bible says – it’s not the food that will defile you. All things are life. Stop judging.

The bagel reaches my lips. I feel sick. I force myself to eat it. I only eat half and then put the other half away. I’m so ashamed. Well, just put it behind you. Next time will be better. You don’t eat bagels everyday. Don’t worry. Oh, you’re just like your mother. You can’t stop eating. What’s wrong with you? Do you want to turn out like that? My stomach feels so fat. I feel disgusting. I sit, internally writhing in mental and physical discomfort. I try to focus on work. And I work but I’m not focused on work. I’m focused on my body. You are so awful. I still feel hungry. Stop! You just ate half a bagel. How could you possibly be hungry? Drink some water. I don’t feel like water. I’m tired. Why am I so tired all the time? It’s because I’m not sleeping well. It’s because you can’t stop these incessant thoughts. Fuck, just stop thinking. Breathe! Sigh. You know what? It’s Friday. Just let it go – go have another coffee. That’ll make you feel better, take the edge off your hunger. Why do you have to be such a hungry girl. No one will ever love you. You know that, right? You can’t take care of yourself. You’re always needing. You gave away the only person who does love you so shame on you. You just have to deal with that. It’s your fault. He loved you. Why would you give him up? Stop. You left for a reason. Remember, you do love him but he’s an alcoholic. You had to leave. But you shouldn’t have. You can’t do this on your own. You are absolutely messing up your life. You’re fucked. You’re going to wind up an old, unlovable, wrinkled ugly woman living alone in squalor, in a ratty old apartment that smells like a stank hole. You’re never going to amount to anything. Too bad. You should have thought about that before you decided to leave. At least you’d have a comfortable home and not have to want for anything. But that’s not the life you want, is it? Come on, you can do this. These are just thoughts. You’re not your thoughts. Focus. Focus. Focus. You can be more. You know it, deep within your heart. It doesn’t matter what you weigh or look like. You’ve got a good job and work with great people. Why can’t you be more grateful? You’re such an ungrateful sod. You have more than so many others and yet you take advantage of what you have. Shame on you. But I’m so sad. Okay. Okay. I can do this. Just get through the day. After work you’ll get your hair cut, get dinner, get an oil change, do laundry, clean the house, have a work out. But when do I get to relax? Stop, you don’t need to relax. If you focus on the moment all your work should feel like bliss. It shouldn’t matter what you do if you’re doing it with joy in your heart. Why can’t I feel the joy? Why does my life feel so black? I’m so tired. Why? Will I ever be happy and feel joy? I’ve never felt joy. I feel hopeless. Here I go again. Why can’t I be happy? What is wrong with me? I’m hungry. Okay, it’s almost 1:00 p.m. Go ahead and eat lunch, if you must. It’s a healthy lunch, it’s okay. There’s not as many vegetables in here. Where are the greens? You should be eating way more greens. Your skin is going to start showing the mess of a diet you’ve been eating. Come on, just eat. Shut up. It’s tasty. Not bad. I’m full. You’re fat. You should’ve waited to eat lunch. But I was hungry. No you weren’t. You just can’t stop eating. Eat, eat, eat. No control. It’s okay. I’ll work out tonight. But it’s Friday. I’m tired. I don’t want to work out. No, you know what? It is Friday! You’ve had a tough week. Just forget it all today – all bets are off! One last binge, one last purge. Then you can start fresh tomorrow. Have an extra long workout to make up for it and then you’ll be back on track.

I’m so gray and dark at this point. I can’t focus. The tears are welling. The days have gone on and on like this for what feels like an eternity. The shackles are heavy. I want to die. I don’t really want to die but I don’t see any way out. This is my life. You’ve made a damn mess of it too! Why can’t someone help me? Who? Who would help you? What could they possibly do for you to make any of this feel better or go away completely? Nothing. Who can I call? Mom, dad, sis? No, they’d listen and then just look at you with pity. I don’t need pity. I’m not a pitiful person. I’m so strong. What about B? No, you’d just be dragging him into your mess of a world. Don’t drag others into your dismal abyss. What about L? I should get together with friends. No, they’ll just want to have fun and you’d just be a depressed mess. Who wants to hang out with that? No one. But I can’t stand this. I can’t stand myself. I can’t stand being alone. I can’t be the only one who feels like this. There must be others out there. But why do we all struggle alone? What would make me feel better? Nothing. There isn’t anything anybody can do. Just be miserable then! But I don’t want to be miserable. The sun is shining, it’s such a beautiful day. You can’t even enjoy it. Look, people go out for walks and get out and live life. Look at you! You just whole up and can barely face it. Weak, weak, weak. Who are you? What’s the point? Why bother? This can’t be it though. There has to be more! What though, what more is there? You’ve lived 40 years like this. Why would you think it’s going to change? Because it has to! I’m worth more than this! I know I am. Come on! You’re so egotistical. Always thinking of yourself! Stop. I’m tired. Maybe you should just have a glass of wine and relax tonight. Oh sure, just filling yourself with other ways to make yourself feel better. Wine won’t help either. There is nothing you can do.

I feel heavy. I feel fat. I feel tired. I feel worthless. I feel lazy. I feel useless. I feel hungry. I feel full. I feel sick. I feel fear. I feel unloved. I feel lost. I feel disconnected. I feel not human. I feel alone. I feel afraid. I feel. I feel deeply. I want to love. I want to feel. I’m not worthy.

The stream of thought is endless. And this only accounts for about 30 minutes of my day.

How does one escape this nightmare?

I’m watching…

…and if I can see what I’m holding I can make a decision to let it go.

 

Disconnected

Words cannot express how lost and displaced I am feeling right now.

The irritability sits at the forefront of my heart and I’m fearful when I feel it stir.

I belong absolutely nowhere right now.

The pain of disconnection is indescribable.

I have never, in all my life, felt a sense of belonging, yet I feel like there is a place for me. But I’m still searching.

I’m caught in between.

I left and that no longer feels good. But to be back where I came from hurts just as much.

I was there just this morning and when he wrapped his arms around me I felt more alone than ever.

His embrace of my body felt more like a proclaiming of object than of a place of rest.

It hurts. I hurt so badly right now.

I try to separate ego and Self. I cannot do it. There is a part of my inner being that says feeling plays a part, that feeling is human. The disconnection from Love is where I’m lost.

Inconsolable almost.

Will I ever find the connection that the inner-most being of me longs for?

I can only flounder blindly and with fervent faith, gripping with the tips of my fingers and praying with all my might, that He is putting me back together and not letting me fall completely.

 

Breaking the Pain Barrier

My husband is angry that I left him.

I told him that I understand his anger and that’s he’s probably thinking, “Fuck her! She left me, it’s her fault. Why should I have to do anything (quit drinking, get help, etc.)?”

A sly yet agreeing smile turned up the corners of his mouth. I suggested that he should say it out loud, that it might feel good for him. He wouldn’t do it though. His reason being that he has too much respect for me.

Really?

I wanted to scream and get nasty. Respect? Does the word respect come into play at all when ignoring your wife’s tears and pleas for 20 years? I bit my tongue though because I know that anger begets anger and that it serves no purpose for me to win a position. I’m not trying to be right, there is no personal right. I mean, to him, he’s just as right as I might think I am. So really, who is right?

All I know is that I was living in a situation that I couldn’t stand to live in, or with, any longer so I removed myself from it. He, too, is also in a situation that he can do something about and just because he’s not doing what I hoped he would do doesn’t make him wrong. We’re at an impasse.

However, when I think about the amount of time that we’ve been apart now, I start to wonder what the hell I’m doing. Perhaps I should go back so we can work on things. I mean, after all, I do love him. But I can’t.

Do I really want to return to the comfortable and familiar pain of old? Just because I’m feeling discomfort right now doesn’t mean I should go back. I need to hold right now, endure.

What I have learned over the past several months is that pain is not always an indication that something is wrong. I think we fear pain too easily and so retreat, and in doing so we often miss the potential for the transmutation of old into new. I think when pain is at its highest is when the potential for change is at it’s greatest.

So, I’m not going back. I will sit amidst this new discomfort, thank you very much, and welcome the pain and wait patiently for the barrier to break and the metamorphosis to occur.

Evolution of Change

It’s been two months since my last post. I wasn’t sure if I should come back. I thought maybe I should create a new blog and start fresh but, after much contemplation, I decided that this whole “journey” of mine is a continuum. To start a new blog would only serve to negate one part of my story, one part of my life, which isn’t separate from me at all, but is fully part of me.

I slipped and fell. Not literally, but figuratively and so very deeply emotionally.

I think if I were to ask an impartial party they would say it’s okay. Right now, I believe that too. But I feel some shame in what I’ve allowed to happen. Yes, some shame, but I also realize the tremendous amount of change that has occurred in my life over, most recently, the past six months, but also over the past two years, and I can’t really shame the progression of learning and self awareness and understanding that has transpired.

  • I am still separated from my husband. He continues to drink. I don’t think I thought this would be how things worked out. I’m starting to realize that I truly thought my leaving him would shake his world and stir some change. Well, it shook his world alright but he’s viewing this as a tragedy rather than an opportunity. He’s sad. He’s angry.
  • Six months into a separation and while this is totally what I wanted I’m feeling a little lost in who I am. Alone at 40? It’s only a plateau, I realize this, but it’s just a really, really uncomfortable part of the cliff on my climb to the next level of me.
  • I got lost in trying to identify a new me in the shadow of the loss of the old me as “wife”. The shift involved a dietary lifestyle in which I lost quite a bit of weight and started down a very dangerous, yet familiar, path. I’m on shaky ground, even now, but I am filled with more self-love and awareness and I know what I need to do to remedy this. This is the part that I feel shame about but am understanding that I still, realistically, am only two years recovered from an eating disorder. I have areas to work on still but I’m stronger in mind and spirit and self this time and can get back on track more easily. As Ralph Waldo Emerson so eloquently put it:

The glory is not in never falling but in rising every time you fall.

Yes, I have fallen but I see that each fall is an opportunity to learn and grow and when I rise a new me has been formed and I continue on my way until it’s time for greater change again. And this is the evolution of me.