Written from my current beadwork project about a week apart. The model is easy to do. I sit quietly for a moment and then take a couple of minutes to write down all the words and/or phrases that come into my mind as I look around me (in this case, looking at my beadwork and beading supplies). When I run out of things to write, I circle the word or phrase that seems the most compelling at that moment. The first line of my poem is "I am _____________ (that word or phrase). Then I use other words/phrases on the list to write a poem about myself. Here they are:
#1
I am scattered
I want to be one of the other
words or phrases
such as I am peaceful
or I am purple
or I am flowing
but the truth is
I AM scattered right now
as I cut through
the crumpled remains
of the soft colors
of my marriage dream
I am scattered
as I pack all my things in a box
drained of energy
traffic noise in my head...
oh flower fabric and aqua beads
may you refill my cup of life
PB March30, 2013
#2
I am delicate
emotionally delicate I guess
a little unusual for me
my heart is folded
my wedding rings still on my finger
my life flowing along
as if everything was normal
as if everything was the same
I am circled by beads
beautiful, graceful, pretty beads
are supporting a new phase...
like the buterfly
I will take a new form
yet with the same life blood
the same heart as before
PB April 14, 2013
Writing out these poems seems to be the most accurate way of recording what is going on right now. I'm tired, scattered, called by food (my mother addiction), plagued by all the subsidiary addictions. I constantly think I need, make that NEED something... need to buy a ruffled bedskirt, need to have a handful of nuts, need to call my friend L, need to buy new walking shoes, need to make a cup of tea, need to take some Aleeve...it's about needing to find something to fix it, to make myself feel better. The answer's not there. Where is the answer? Maybe there just isn't an answer. Maybe I just feel sad and delicate and scattered, and that's the way it is.
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Sunday, April 21, 2013
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Heart Replies...
A dear friend, who knows what is going on with me, just sent an email asking, "So how is your heart feeling these days?" Below is my immediate response...
Heart Replies
Heart is feeling lost
Heart is feeling tired
Heart is feeling closed
Still on the fence... maybe more now than even a few days ago, because I went on the ferry to the mainland town to see the other place again. Tomorrow, I'm going to take seriously the suggestion given by one of the readers here... I'm going to sit on a log on the beach, hold out my open palms, and breathe in harmony with the ocean's lapping waves.
Heart Replies
Heart is feeling empty
resisting reality
resisting change
looking for sunshine
in the wrong season.
Heart is feeling lost
can’t find her home
can’t recall the path
looking for a home
where none exists.
Heart is feeling tired
weary of pros and cons
weary of thinking
looking for answers
in a thick fog.
Heart is feeling closed
turning from faith
turning from trust
looking for clarity
instead of the truth.
Still on the fence... maybe more now than even a few days ago, because I went on the ferry to the mainland town to see the other place again. Tomorrow, I'm going to take seriously the suggestion given by one of the readers here... I'm going to sit on a log on the beach, hold out my open palms, and breathe in harmony with the ocean's lapping waves.
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
The "D" word again
Don't read this if you don't want to know about my emotional response to filing divorce papers today. It just seems better to vent, to explore my muddled emotions, painting with words, than to eat.. which is what I want to do.
I (briefly) imagine myself in a bathtub FULL of decadent, dark chocolates, painting my toenails fire engine red and stuffing sweets in my mouth. That is not to be, for I am still abstinent on eating chocolate, and so far, thanks to OA, Words Paint, and wonderful, supportive friends, I haven't gained any weight or binged on anything.
Tonight though, I feel like I'm going to burst. My eyes burn with tears that won't flow. My stomach hurts. My jaws hurt. My brain hurts in its completely befuddled state. So many changes, happening so quickly.
I'm angry at the whole legal system and divorce protocol. Good grief, there is sooooooo much paper work, so many nearly incomprehensible forms... this stamped, this notarized, these numbers needed, blah, blah, blah. It's worse than doing our taxes. And here's the rub. We agree perfectly about how to divide our stuff. TOTAL, absolute agreement and harmony. Yet still we have to provide information down to the dime about everything we have in the whole world, whether acquired before or during marriage. And I'll have to go before a judge in 90+ days to present our decision; whereupon he or she will have a say about whether the court approves, and if not, how we need to change our mutual agreement. It stinks.
What's under my anger about the legal system?
I'm angry about the divorce
I'm angry we can't get along well enough to stay married
What's under my anger about not getting along?
I'm angry for getting married in the first place
when the signs were already there that it might not work
What's under my anger about getting married in the first place?
I'm angry at society, movies, song writers, story tellers
for making marriage seem so necessary for a woman
What's under my anger about being lead astray?
I'm angry for being so gullible and stupid
Not my husband's fault, not this anger
Let go of the anger. Let it flow away
downstream to the sea. Let springs of new beginnings
and adventure take its place
I guess the other major feeling is confusion. Numbness and memory loss are part of it too. We had a meeting with a County Clerk today, who we paid to help us with the forms. All except the basic petition have to be filled out and submitted to the district court by 80 days from now. I tried to take notes on everything the clerk said, but a lot of it seemed incomprehensible to me. She gave me a link to a website that might help. I hope it will.
Grief... that's part of it too... Or, maybe anger is part of the grief. OK... well, that's the way it goes. Think I'll have a diet soda and an hour or so of sewing. That's always a calming. Thanks for reading along. Part of me wants to delete this post... but guess I'll let it show for now.
I (briefly) imagine myself in a bathtub FULL of decadent, dark chocolates, painting my toenails fire engine red and stuffing sweets in my mouth. That is not to be, for I am still abstinent on eating chocolate, and so far, thanks to OA, Words Paint, and wonderful, supportive friends, I haven't gained any weight or binged on anything.
Tonight though, I feel like I'm going to burst. My eyes burn with tears that won't flow. My stomach hurts. My jaws hurt. My brain hurts in its completely befuddled state. So many changes, happening so quickly.
I'm angry at the whole legal system and divorce protocol. Good grief, there is sooooooo much paper work, so many nearly incomprehensible forms... this stamped, this notarized, these numbers needed, blah, blah, blah. It's worse than doing our taxes. And here's the rub. We agree perfectly about how to divide our stuff. TOTAL, absolute agreement and harmony. Yet still we have to provide information down to the dime about everything we have in the whole world, whether acquired before or during marriage. And I'll have to go before a judge in 90+ days to present our decision; whereupon he or she will have a say about whether the court approves, and if not, how we need to change our mutual agreement. It stinks.
What's under my anger about the legal system?
I'm angry about the divorce
I'm angry we can't get along well enough to stay married
What's under my anger about not getting along?
I'm angry for getting married in the first place
when the signs were already there that it might not work
What's under my anger about getting married in the first place?
I'm angry at society, movies, song writers, story tellers
for making marriage seem so necessary for a woman
What's under my anger about being lead astray?
I'm angry for being so gullible and stupid
Not my husband's fault, not this anger
Let go of the anger. Let it flow away
downstream to the sea. Let springs of new beginnings
and adventure take its place
I guess the other major feeling is confusion. Numbness and memory loss are part of it too. We had a meeting with a County Clerk today, who we paid to help us with the forms. All except the basic petition have to be filled out and submitted to the district court by 80 days from now. I tried to take notes on everything the clerk said, but a lot of it seemed incomprehensible to me. She gave me a link to a website that might help. I hope it will.
Grief... that's part of it too... Or, maybe anger is part of the grief. OK... well, that's the way it goes. Think I'll have a diet soda and an hour or so of sewing. That's always a calming. Thanks for reading along. Part of me wants to delete this post... but guess I'll let it show for now.
Friday, January 25, 2013
The "D" Word
Funny how there's ingrained shame around the "D" word. I even have trouble writing it. Divorce. There I put it in print.
you and I start down a road
the surface is a bit bumpy
but we look ahead
towards our beautiful dream
together we withstand the bumps
we try different speeds
different sides of the road
whatever it takes we say
the road seems more rutted
many deep pot holes and rocks
the dream no longer sustains us
despair grows as resolve dwindles
until finally we say
we can't go on like this
we've reached the end of this road
so we turn onto different roads
we've left the big rocks behind
traveling now on gravel
looking ahead to smooth pavement
looking back to a lost dream
Saying goodby to dreams. Our divorce should finalize around the date we met, 16 years ago. Back then, almost immediately, I fell in love and began to dream of our future together. When we married 3 years later, our dream (or at least mine) was to spend the rest of our lives together, our love, understanding, respect, and companionship growing with each year. OK.... nothing unusual about that. Everyone has a dream like that when they marry. And many see it come to an end.
Why then do I feel so alone in this? Why is the finality so disheartening? Why do I look at him and want nothing more than to call if all off, saying "please forgive me, it was all a mistake?"
I made an offer on a house yesterday. Will it be accepted? Will it meet the inspection? Will my financial security be lost, spent on buying a home, upkeep and the doubled costs of living alone? Will I get along OK alone? Will I have the emotional and physical stamina to do the move? Did I make an OK decision about the house? I don't know.
There isn't a dream ahead of me with this move, like the ones in the past. Or, at least, it's not clear what the new dream is. My friends might say, "the new dream is peace, contentment, balance, harmony." I must try to keep that in sight.
<> <> <> <> <> <> <> <>
PS... Update 3 PM, Jan. 25th, 2013... Just found out my offer on the house was accepted. Next is the inspection. Closing is scheduled for 2-28.... moving on.... Oh my heavens, I'm a nervous Nelly at the moment.
you and I start down a road
the surface is a bit bumpy
but we look ahead
towards our beautiful dream
together we withstand the bumps
we try different speeds
different sides of the road
whatever it takes we say
the road seems more rutted
many deep pot holes and rocks
the dream no longer sustains us
despair grows as resolve dwindles
until finally we say
we can't go on like this
we've reached the end of this road
so we turn onto different roads
we've left the big rocks behind
traveling now on gravel
looking ahead to smooth pavement
looking back to a lost dream
Saying goodby to dreams. Our divorce should finalize around the date we met, 16 years ago. Back then, almost immediately, I fell in love and began to dream of our future together. When we married 3 years later, our dream (or at least mine) was to spend the rest of our lives together, our love, understanding, respect, and companionship growing with each year. OK.... nothing unusual about that. Everyone has a dream like that when they marry. And many see it come to an end.
Why then do I feel so alone in this? Why is the finality so disheartening? Why do I look at him and want nothing more than to call if all off, saying "please forgive me, it was all a mistake?"
I made an offer on a house yesterday. Will it be accepted? Will it meet the inspection? Will my financial security be lost, spent on buying a home, upkeep and the doubled costs of living alone? Will I get along OK alone? Will I have the emotional and physical stamina to do the move? Did I make an OK decision about the house? I don't know.
There isn't a dream ahead of me with this move, like the ones in the past. Or, at least, it's not clear what the new dream is. My friends might say, "the new dream is peace, contentment, balance, harmony." I must try to keep that in sight.
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PS... Update 3 PM, Jan. 25th, 2013... Just found out my offer on the house was accepted. Next is the inspection. Closing is scheduled for 2-28.... moving on.... Oh my heavens, I'm a nervous Nelly at the moment.
Monday, December 31, 2012
Snowing - A Change of Attitude
wet, heavy snow is falling
on this final day of the year
not sticking yet
temperature just at freezing
will it accumulate?
worry accumulates in my mind
cold, like snow
fear of being trapped
can't get out when it snows
thick ice forms on the hill
fear of slipping, sliding, falling
out of control
my old friend "control"
taps on my shoulder
whispers of jail by snow
another voice is shouting
but we have food
and water and wood to burn
we have things to do
we are safe in our home
let both voices be heard
let me accept this white jail
comforting fear with understanding
like all things
it will not last
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Big Girl Panties
The truth is I'd like to be in control. I started writing because I'm upset. I just checked the Amazon reviews of my new book, which previously had all been 5 stars. Now somebody (somebody I know personally) gave it only 4 stars. OUCH! I'd like to be in control.
- I'd like to fix the index of the book, which the publisher did... and in my opinion didn't do well.
- I'd like to change the table of contents to include "quilting with beads"... (how did that get left out? my bad for not catching it during proofing?
- I'd like to change the "Look Inside" pages shown on Amazon.
- I'd like to delete any Amazon reviews that aren't 5 stars.
- I'd like to punish our local book store owner for saying to my face, "Oh [read with disregard], it's a craft book [read with disgust].
- I'd like to follow my food plan to a T.
- I'd like to do arm exercises, every day.
- I'd like to walk at least 2 miles, every day.
- I'd like to "uneat" 2 cookies, yulekaga, and pumpkin bread so I could put my abstinence counter back where it was at over 800 days.
- I'd like my husband to sleep less.
- I'd like to change a whole lot of things about him.
Time to put on my big girl panties. Let it all go. Breathe. Be grateful for all the 5 star reviews. Be grateful that the publisher finally activated the "Look Inside" feature. Be grateful for all that my husband is and does. Be grateful that I exercise some days and follow my food plan sometimes.
year's end
a turning point
wearing
big girl
panties
with gratitude
blessings
everywhere
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Weddings
I've been thinking about being married and my friend, who's never been married, these past few days. Seems the best way to express my thoughts on the subject is in a poem....
Either Way
May and June, the wedding season,
take me back to days of writing
‘Mrs. Bob Lewis’ over and over again,
covering pages in my notebook
in print, in script, in cursive.
A few months later, I’m writing
‘Mrs. Ed Hutchinson’, like before
only trying out this new name,
wondering if HE is the ONE,
planning our wedding, our family.
Years, and a couple of lovers later,
I ask, will I ever find the ONE, get married,
have kids and live happily ever after?
A romp of many more years passes
with a few more lovers, fleeing hopes.
I give up on marriage. I am tainted
with the failure of spinsterhood, yet
oddly comfortable in my little home,
paid in full, and my sole proprietorship,
comfortably alone, most of the time.
Meanwhile, my friends are married,
some of them divorced and married again.
I attend bridal showers, weddings.
The baby showers begin, followed by
graduations and the kids’ weddings.
Part of me envies this pattern,
while part of me questions
‘Is this really all it’s cracked up to be?’
Still, it seems my parents would love
for me to settle into
a marriage.
So, yes, at age 55, I meet someone
who seems to be the ONE,
the man of my dreams. We marry.
We struggle to find a balance
between independence and partnership.
A good friend, now in her 70’s,
with a few sweet lovers in her life,
never married. We meet for lunch.
She’s retiring, talking about travel,
making plans, exciting times, happy.
Neither of us has children or grand-kids.
Both of us are capable of great adventures,
she with only herself to consider,
me with a partner, a husband,
who has his own ideas about the future.
Pity not the single ones, the spinsters.
Believe not that marriage is necessary
for contentment in a woman’s life.
Either way, with or without the ONE,
we will have our glory and our pain.
RA
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Best Intentions
Here's a link to a poem that really says it all... better than I could ever hope. One of those poems where "hmmmmms" involuntarily escaped from deep withing my chest with every line.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Late Night Musings
trying to feel my feelings
a little sad
to see 2010 winding down
wanting
to have finished a few things
in the moment though
all is well
our house is warm enough
house
in a metaphorical sense
teaching a child to bead today
her focus
amazing for an 8 year old
sharing
my passion with her
so many blessings given me
accept them
forget about deserving
or not
because love is all there is
a little sad
to see 2010 winding down
wanting
to have finished a few things
in the moment though
all is well
our house is warm enough
house
in a metaphorical sense
teaching a child to bead today
her focus
amazing for an 8 year old
sharing
my passion with her
so many blessings given me
accept them
forget about deserving
or not
because love is all there is
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Note to Self About the Holidays
solstice
christmas
hanukkah
or st. nicholas
a time
of giving
of sharing
of connecting
think respect
act peace
feel love
breathe renewal
christmas
hanukkah
or st. nicholas
a time
of giving
of sharing
of connecting
think respect
act peace
feel love
breathe renewal
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Thanks!
6 years old
beguiling child
the unmistaken child
reincarnated lama
in training
for his role
as spiritual leader
temperature outside
still crazy low
for our neck of the woods
15 degrees last I looked
but the sun was out today
cold and warm at the same time
cold outside
warm inside with sunshine
pouring through windows
took up my beading
for the first time in many weeks
sunshine did it
feeling better today
call of the kitchen
not so strong
chicken soup for supper
black tea with milk and sweetner
our phone line is kaput
again
more snow and more wind
in the forcast
for Thanksgiving day
gratitude day
wait
what if every day
is gratitude day
movie tonight
Unmistaken Child
beautiful man
peaceful place
amazing true story
prayer of thankfulness
cold wind
eloquent movie
it's all good
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Notes on a Road Trip
haven't driven solo
across the country
for a long, long time
not since my thirties
used to make it from
Seattle to St. Paul (MN)
in three days
driving 12 or more
hours each day
and sleeping my car
singing to keep awake
eating pre-made
peanut butter
and jelly sandwiches
kept in a shoebox
free-spirited fun
next Monday I'll be 68
next Wednesday
I'm leaving the island
headed east
to see Mom and family
in St. Paul
not flying as I've done
the past few decades
driving this time
alone
there and back
whoooopppeeeee
time to think
about my marriage
about my seniorhood
about nothing and everything
time to see what I'm made of
time to find the me in me
maybe I'll sing
Bob Dylan and me
singing our hearts out
not so rushed
like in my thirties
motels
not sleeping in my car
a cooler
not a shoebox
a cell phone
taking the freeway
eastbound
fastest way
probably 4 days
but OK if it's 5
homeward bound
I plan to dawdle
taking the northern route
blue highways all the way
two lanes and slow
stop to look
at anything interesting
stop to stretch
stop to breathe
stop to smell
stop to photograph
no hurry at all
feeling my feelings
being me
across the country
for a long, long time
not since my thirties
used to make it from
Seattle to St. Paul (MN)
in three days
driving 12 or more
hours each day
and sleeping my car
singing to keep awake
eating pre-made
peanut butter
and jelly sandwiches
kept in a shoebox
free-spirited fun
next Monday I'll be 68
next Wednesday
I'm leaving the island
headed east
to see Mom and family
in St. Paul
not flying as I've done
the past few decades
driving this time
alone
there and back
whoooopppeeeee
time to think
about my marriage
about my seniorhood
about nothing and everything
time to see what I'm made of
time to find the me in me
maybe I'll sing
Bob Dylan and me
singing our hearts out
not so rushed
like in my thirties
motels
not sleeping in my car
a cooler
not a shoebox
a cell phone
taking the freeway
eastbound
fastest way
probably 4 days
but OK if it's 5
homeward bound
I plan to dawdle
taking the northern route
blue highways all the way
two lanes and slow
stop to look
at anything interesting
stop to stretch
stop to breathe
stop to smell
stop to photograph
no hurry at all
feeling my feelings
being me
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Couldn't Get to Sleep Last Night
couldn't sleep last night
mind chatter
obsessive thinking
about our marriage counseling session
earlier during the day
about Dad's birthday the next day
on 9-11
double sadness for me
missing Dad
missing trust
about my long to-do list
seems long when its in my mind
about my next art project
about the sweater I want to knit
about how it's chilly
and my feet are freezing
about why I make the choice
to stay in bed
rather than get up
to fetch an extra blanket
about my solo road trip
leaving in just over a week
and all the route possibilities
about my stamina for driving
3,600 miles
that's round trip
about my husband and me
about how we want each other
to be like we were when we met
about how difficult it is
to accept the changes
that inevitably come
with aging
about how much better
our life together might be
if we could respect
who we are right now
about how we could do that
about if we could do that
about continuing changes
it's not going to get easier
is it
about respect and love
about forgiveness
about giving and growing
about how maybe I should
get up and read for a while
about how it's now 6 am
and I still haven't slept
about how the day will go
with so little sleep
about all these things again
and again
and then it's 7 am
about how I'm still cold
even though I finally
did get a second blanket
about how it's almost time
to get up
and go to my OA meeting
how could I forget
the two best tools I have
mindfulness
a mindful practice
noting the working
of my mind
not what it was thinking
not how it was thinking
just that it is thinking
and the other is
prayer
god, grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change
the courage to change the things I can
and the wisdom to know the difference
tonight, god,
I place my busy mind
in your hands
mind chatter
obsessive thinking
about our marriage counseling session
earlier during the day
about Dad's birthday the next day
on 9-11
double sadness for me
missing Dad
missing trust
about my long to-do list
seems long when its in my mind
about my next art project
about the sweater I want to knit
about how it's chilly
and my feet are freezing
about why I make the choice
to stay in bed
rather than get up
to fetch an extra blanket
about my solo road trip
leaving in just over a week
and all the route possibilities
about my stamina for driving
3,600 miles
that's round trip
about my husband and me
about how we want each other
to be like we were when we met
about how difficult it is
to accept the changes
that inevitably come
with aging
about how much better
our life together might be
if we could respect
who we are right now
about how we could do that
about if we could do that
about continuing changes
it's not going to get easier
is it
about respect and love
about forgiveness
about giving and growing
about how maybe I should
get up and read for a while
about how it's now 6 am
and I still haven't slept
about how the day will go
with so little sleep
about all these things again
and again
and then it's 7 am
about how I'm still cold
even though I finally
did get a second blanket
about how it's almost time
to get up
and go to my OA meeting
how could I forget
the two best tools I have
mindfulness
a mindful practice
noting the working
of my mind
not what it was thinking
not how it was thinking
just that it is thinking
and the other is
prayer
god, grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change
the courage to change the things I can
and the wisdom to know the difference
tonight, god,
I place my busy mind
in your hands
Sunday, September 5, 2010
The Island Where I Live...
the island where I live
26 miles tip to stern
mostly rural
one small town
and one little village
library
community theatre
medical clinic
one OA meeting a week
no stop lights
no rivers
no trains
no squirrels
no chain stores
no chain restaurants
casual
artsy
slow-paced
hills and valleys
small farms
madrona trees
diverse beaches
diverse habitat
diverse wildlife and birds
diverse population
ferry to mainland 1-3 hours
time to knit
time to breathe
my first visit in 1971
move in 1998
comfortable here
sense of community
peaceful
quiet on our property
5 acres
middle of the island
on a ridge
500 feet above sea level
where snow can stick
for several days
moss and wildflowers
madrona and fir
deer and birds
no town water
no well
we collect rainwater
from our roofs
and
as trees fall or die
we burn them
for heat
not like mountain men
or pioneers
yet not like city folk
my food addictions
followed me here
not quite as easy
to get a fix
drive 6 miles to town
yet they kept their grip on me
in my new beginnings
as a partner, then wife
making me crazy
despite the peace and beauty
of the island
in my process of change
and recovery
the island is my rock
yesterday
on a hectic mainland
museum and shopping trip
with two best friends
the chocolate
cookies
pastries
and pies
called louder than usual
tugging against
the force of the rock
the island won
today I am home again
peaceful and safe
26 miles tip to stern
mostly rural
one small town
and one little village
library
community theatre
medical clinic
one OA meeting a week
no stop lights
no rivers
no trains
no squirrels
no chain stores
no chain restaurants
casual
artsy
slow-paced
hills and valleys
small farms
madrona trees
diverse beaches
diverse habitat
diverse wildlife and birds
diverse population
ferry to mainland 1-3 hours
time to knit
time to breathe
my first visit in 1971
move in 1998
comfortable here
sense of community
peaceful
quiet on our property
5 acres
middle of the island
on a ridge
500 feet above sea level
where snow can stick
for several days
moss and wildflowers
madrona and fir
deer and birds
no town water
no well
we collect rainwater
from our roofs
and
as trees fall or die
we burn them
for heat
not like mountain men
or pioneers
yet not like city folk
my food addictions
followed me here
not quite as easy
to get a fix
drive 6 miles to town
yet they kept their grip on me
in my new beginnings
as a partner, then wife
making me crazy
despite the peace and beauty
of the island
in my process of change
and recovery
the island is my rock
yesterday
on a hectic mainland
museum and shopping trip
with two best friends
the chocolate
cookies
pastries
and pies
called louder than usual
tugging against
the force of the rock
the island won
today I am home again
peaceful and safe
Friday, August 27, 2010
Seemingly Random Thoughts
easy to write this blog
almost seems to write itself
my thoughts
and even my feelings
pour out of me
into a receptive environment
I'm feeling gratitude
Lois says
you don't have to loose yourself
by forming a partnership
but it sure feels that way sometimes
and the adjustment
is a constant
That is a really good thing
to remember
PJ says
it's a work in progress
her words apply to
relationships
recovery
life in general
I really must start to remember
nothing stays fixed forever
adjust and move on
Jules says
it boils down to trusting me...
saying YES! to me
aye and there lies the rub
those two little words
...to me...
if Jules can do it
so can I
Carol says
I have more questions
that I'm not asking
Peacefulbird says
ask away
questions open doors
unblock the mind
Anne H says
it's all good
sometimes I forget that
but she's right
Karen says
putting the words here seems
to be working for you
yes
I think so too
Beadbabe
I love her name
says
I hope you continue
to keep writing about
your experiences
with counseling
I will
promise
I am feeling gratitude
in this state
it's all good
and everything seems possible
almost seems to write itself
my thoughts
and even my feelings
pour out of me
into a receptive environment
I'm feeling gratitude
Lois says
you don't have to loose yourself
by forming a partnership
but it sure feels that way sometimes
and the adjustment
is a constant
That is a really good thing
to remember
PJ says
it's a work in progress
her words apply to
relationships
recovery
life in general
I really must start to remember
nothing stays fixed forever
adjust and move on
Jules says
it boils down to trusting me...
saying YES! to me
aye and there lies the rub
those two little words
...to me...
if Jules can do it
so can I
Carol says
I have more questions
that I'm not asking
Peacefulbird says
ask away
questions open doors
unblock the mind
Anne H says
it's all good
sometimes I forget that
but she's right
Karen says
putting the words here seems
to be working for you
yes
I think so too
Beadbabe
I love her name
says
I hope you continue
to keep writing about
your experiences
with counseling
I will
promise
I am feeling gratitude
in this state
it's all good
and everything seems possible
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Clearing My Husband's Name + About Fear
Yesterday I posted a poem of sorts (here) about wanting to eat 2 dozen chocolate chip cookies... My husband offered to buy 3 dozen in case I wanted more. The next line said: what's with that
I feel the need to clear his name on this one... He was just joking. He knows full well the strength of my abstinence (at least at the moment) and that it was just my way of saying The Monster was in my mind. No way would he knowingly aid and abet said monster by bringing any of my binge foods into the house. The line "what's with that" refers to my mental state... like what is causing The Monster to come forward in such a big way? It does not refer to his joking offer.
I just read the above to him. He said, "Tell 'em you're going to put a fifth of Scotch in my car to get even." (He's a recovering alcoholic.) His humor is sometimes barbed and a problem for me in our marriage, but most of the time it just cracks me up.
It was good to write the poem because I write quickly, improvisationally and more truthfully when I write poetry than when I write prose. I can fill many journal pages with words and more words, and not get close to my inner truth. Whereas, writing terse lines (I guess one could call them poems) is often a gateway to my more intuitive side.
The other way I tap into intuition is by writing off the lines... in a spiral, upside down, in a diagonal wave - anything but straight across the page. When I journal, I like to get out my rather substantial collection of stickers and let Little PB pick a few she really likes (even if it's the only one I have of that type) and put them on the page. If she wants, she can embellish the stickers by doodling around them for a while. Then when I start to write, I just follow around the stickers and her doodles. It's quite obvious, when comparing a journal page like that to one written straight across the page, that the sticker pages are way more insightful, creative, fun, truthful and compelling.
Back to the cookie poem... Writing that I wanted to eat 2 dozen c.c. cookies simply opened a door to feeling my feelings and offered a chance to look at why that might be. I'm still thinking about the answer that appeared in the poem. It surprises me to realize that I have such strong fears around staying married, even though remaining with my husband is my stated goal for counseling.
So today, which was a 15-hour travel day (solo), I had a lot of time to consider the matter. It's complicated... and probably best summarized in a ten-things list... Ten Things Regarding My Fears around Remaining Married
I feel the need to clear his name on this one... He was just joking. He knows full well the strength of my abstinence (at least at the moment) and that it was just my way of saying The Monster was in my mind. No way would he knowingly aid and abet said monster by bringing any of my binge foods into the house. The line "what's with that" refers to my mental state... like what is causing The Monster to come forward in such a big way? It does not refer to his joking offer.
I just read the above to him. He said, "Tell 'em you're going to put a fifth of Scotch in my car to get even." (He's a recovering alcoholic.) His humor is sometimes barbed and a problem for me in our marriage, but most of the time it just cracks me up.
It was good to write the poem because I write quickly, improvisationally and more truthfully when I write poetry than when I write prose. I can fill many journal pages with words and more words, and not get close to my inner truth. Whereas, writing terse lines (I guess one could call them poems) is often a gateway to my more intuitive side.
The other way I tap into intuition is by writing off the lines... in a spiral, upside down, in a diagonal wave - anything but straight across the page. When I journal, I like to get out my rather substantial collection of stickers and let Little PB pick a few she really likes (even if it's the only one I have of that type) and put them on the page. If she wants, she can embellish the stickers by doodling around them for a while. Then when I start to write, I just follow around the stickers and her doodles. It's quite obvious, when comparing a journal page like that to one written straight across the page, that the sticker pages are way more insightful, creative, fun, truthful and compelling.
Back to the cookie poem... Writing that I wanted to eat 2 dozen c.c. cookies simply opened a door to feeling my feelings and offered a chance to look at why that might be. I'm still thinking about the answer that appeared in the poem. It surprises me to realize that I have such strong fears around staying married, even though remaining with my husband is my stated goal for counseling.
So today, which was a 15-hour travel day (solo), I had a lot of time to consider the matter. It's complicated... and probably best summarized in a ten-things list... Ten Things Regarding My Fears around Remaining Married
- It seems to be related to recovery and weight loss. Maybe getting physically smaller is a physical manifestation of the way I feel unimportant (small) in my marriage.
- Part of me misses the independence I had before we met and married.
- I don't trust that changes brought about through counseling will be lasting.
- Under my fear of staying married is a fear of being trapped.
- Under my fear of being trapped is a fear of becoming a nonentity.
- Under my fear of becoming a nonentity is my fear of death.
- Animal fear of being killed and eaten.
- Internal Critic says I'm being a drama queen here.
- Shut up, IC!
- I need to be able to say "no." We both need to be able to ask for what we want and accept "no" as an answer. I have little faith in our ability to change.
Yikes! Should I be writing this kind of thing on a blog? I don't know. He doesn't read it... and even if he did, it would be OK (I think) because my intentions are good/honorable. But is it too personal and private to put on a blog? I guess I'm really just asking myself this question... More to consider... But for now, I'll publish this post as it is.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Avoidance
Mia culpa... I am avoiding writing about the second challenge mentioned two posts ago. And it's already here, blossoming to full size in about 9 hours. I am avoiding because I don't want to tell or face the whole truth about the situation. I don't want to deal with the past and I am a little apprehensive about the future.
In this moment all is well. I am following my food plan and doing what I have to do. I am sane and sober.
But I feel insecurity creeping toward me. Will writing help? I don't want my journal to read like true confessions, even though it is for me and for my healing.... I'm waffling about this.
So, guess I'll write the outline... the part that is more or less factual... the part that isn't so much about my feelings.
About 30 years ago I was in Eastern Europe, then under Communist control, and met a family, who were members of an ethnic minority group in the country where they lived. Their ethnic group suffered much persecution. The father (I'll call him J) wanted to get his two children out of that country and raise them in a politically free country.
I helped by getting information for them and by raising money to pay for bribes and expenses (getting the family out of the country was very tricky). For a while, they lived in a limbo status in another country. I visited them there a few times.
After a couple of years living hand to mouth, moving frequently, trying to get into Western Europe but not succeeding, they finally found an opportunity to get into Denmark as political refugees. There they settled, learning Danish, adjusting to a very different culture and eventually becoming citizens.
When they first went to Denmark, they knew nobody. J and his wife were worried about what would happen to the kids if anything should happen to them. I agreed in writing to take full responsibility for the two children if it were ever necessary.
I had four extended visits with the family in Denmark. The last time I saw them as a family of four was 17 years ago. The daughter came to visit me in the USA the year after that. And J came to my home for a brief visit 8 years ago.
In 9 hours J is arriving here for a second visit. My husband, J and I are going on a 4-day motorcycle ride. J will be here for 6 days.
What does all this have to do with my recovery? Well there's the obvious... Have guest = eat more, richer foods. Travel = eat more, get hungrier. Stress = eat more. That's the surface challenge about the week ahead. I know how to deal with that type of challenge... I have my plan and my talisman!
However, under the obvious there's a more significant challenge. When I met J and got to know him over periodic visits to the family in Europe, I greatly admired his strength of character, daring and determination. I began to really love this amazing person. Actually, that was part of it. The other part was that I developed a ginornous crush on him.
My addictions (in addition to the mother addiction of overeating and certain foods) include tobacco (3 packs Pall Mall every day, quit in 1968), alcohol (sober since 1985) and love. Love addiction is the strangest thing... For me it was not sex addiction, even though sex is often desirable as proof of love. It wasn't sex I wanted at all; it was to be loved.
My love addiction manifested itself as crushes, mostly on unavailable or uninterested men. I would constantly obsess about a man on whom I had a crush. Sometimes I would almost stalk the person, hound them with notes/letters.
Poor J. He was very fond of me. But he was also married and totally in love with his wife. For me, it was very confusing. I loved and admired the whole family, including his wife, in a healthy and reasonable way. But at the same time, he was the object of my passionate obsession for a long time, maybe 10 years.
Because of my lust for J, I broke up with my steady boyfriend/partner of 13 years. I only wanted J.
Then some things changed. I began writing poetry with a group of recovering alcoholics, drug addicts and one sex addict. For the first time, I began to see my crushes for what they really were... an addiction to love... obsessive and compulsive attachments that were not reality-based. I awakened to the fact that I could love J as a friend and let go of the notion that he could (0r ever would) be a romantic partner.
After that, I met my husband (1997) and consider myself happily married. No more crushes. J was the last. Not even a hint of it in the 13 years I've been with my husband. Even when J called to tell me his wife had suddenly died of a brain tumor, I did not give more than idle thought to the fact that he was now available.
J and I are close friends. I've stood next to him through many important life changes. We have a strong bond, an emotional and intellectual connection similar to my relationship with two of my brothers and my husband.
So now J is coming here. His visit brings up the past for me... reminds me of my addiction to love. I've been having memory flash-backs about those days when I adored him in such an unhealthy, odd way. We did not have an affair, although at one point I would have if the circumstances had been different. I am ashamed about that. I wonder if I want to talk with him about it? I wonder if there is some way I can make amends. Most of all I want the impossible... to apologize to his wife for the lust I carried for J. But to him as well. It could not have been easy to be my friend.
So the challenge ahead is to feel my feelings, accept my memories of who I was back then, forgive myself for my mistakes and my addictions, and pray for guidance in matters of making amends with J. That's it. That's the challenge I face right now.
In this moment all is well. I am following my food plan and doing what I have to do. I am sane and sober.
But I feel insecurity creeping toward me. Will writing help? I don't want my journal to read like true confessions, even though it is for me and for my healing.... I'm waffling about this.
So, guess I'll write the outline... the part that is more or less factual... the part that isn't so much about my feelings.
About 30 years ago I was in Eastern Europe, then under Communist control, and met a family, who were members of an ethnic minority group in the country where they lived. Their ethnic group suffered much persecution. The father (I'll call him J) wanted to get his two children out of that country and raise them in a politically free country.
I helped by getting information for them and by raising money to pay for bribes and expenses (getting the family out of the country was very tricky). For a while, they lived in a limbo status in another country. I visited them there a few times.
After a couple of years living hand to mouth, moving frequently, trying to get into Western Europe but not succeeding, they finally found an opportunity to get into Denmark as political refugees. There they settled, learning Danish, adjusting to a very different culture and eventually becoming citizens.
When they first went to Denmark, they knew nobody. J and his wife were worried about what would happen to the kids if anything should happen to them. I agreed in writing to take full responsibility for the two children if it were ever necessary.
I had four extended visits with the family in Denmark. The last time I saw them as a family of four was 17 years ago. The daughter came to visit me in the USA the year after that. And J came to my home for a brief visit 8 years ago.
In 9 hours J is arriving here for a second visit. My husband, J and I are going on a 4-day motorcycle ride. J will be here for 6 days.
What does all this have to do with my recovery? Well there's the obvious... Have guest = eat more, richer foods. Travel = eat more, get hungrier. Stress = eat more. That's the surface challenge about the week ahead. I know how to deal with that type of challenge... I have my plan and my talisman!
However, under the obvious there's a more significant challenge. When I met J and got to know him over periodic visits to the family in Europe, I greatly admired his strength of character, daring and determination. I began to really love this amazing person. Actually, that was part of it. The other part was that I developed a ginornous crush on him.
My addictions (in addition to the mother addiction of overeating and certain foods) include tobacco (3 packs Pall Mall every day, quit in 1968), alcohol (sober since 1985) and love. Love addiction is the strangest thing... For me it was not sex addiction, even though sex is often desirable as proof of love. It wasn't sex I wanted at all; it was to be loved.
My love addiction manifested itself as crushes, mostly on unavailable or uninterested men. I would constantly obsess about a man on whom I had a crush. Sometimes I would almost stalk the person, hound them with notes/letters.
Poor J. He was very fond of me. But he was also married and totally in love with his wife. For me, it was very confusing. I loved and admired the whole family, including his wife, in a healthy and reasonable way. But at the same time, he was the object of my passionate obsession for a long time, maybe 10 years.
Because of my lust for J, I broke up with my steady boyfriend/partner of 13 years. I only wanted J.
Then some things changed. I began writing poetry with a group of recovering alcoholics, drug addicts and one sex addict. For the first time, I began to see my crushes for what they really were... an addiction to love... obsessive and compulsive attachments that were not reality-based. I awakened to the fact that I could love J as a friend and let go of the notion that he could (0r ever would) be a romantic partner.
After that, I met my husband (1997) and consider myself happily married. No more crushes. J was the last. Not even a hint of it in the 13 years I've been with my husband. Even when J called to tell me his wife had suddenly died of a brain tumor, I did not give more than idle thought to the fact that he was now available.
J and I are close friends. I've stood next to him through many important life changes. We have a strong bond, an emotional and intellectual connection similar to my relationship with two of my brothers and my husband.
So now J is coming here. His visit brings up the past for me... reminds me of my addiction to love. I've been having memory flash-backs about those days when I adored him in such an unhealthy, odd way. We did not have an affair, although at one point I would have if the circumstances had been different. I am ashamed about that. I wonder if I want to talk with him about it? I wonder if there is some way I can make amends. Most of all I want the impossible... to apologize to his wife for the lust I carried for J. But to him as well. It could not have been easy to be my friend.
So the challenge ahead is to feel my feelings, accept my memories of who I was back then, forgive myself for my mistakes and my addictions, and pray for guidance in matters of making amends with J. That's it. That's the challenge I face right now.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Refrigerator Poem
Fifteen years ago, after successfully dieting for a while, I wrote this poem:
Refrigerator
I.
Full refrigerator.
Humming refrigerator.
What's in my refrigerator?
Temptation.
Sustenance.
Mold.
Old salad dressings caked under bottle caps,
lettuce and asparagus, too yucky to eat.
Full freezer.
Humming freezer.
What's in my freezer?
Chicken breasts,
Vegetables.
Broth
Things for making healthy meals
if only I could remember to thaw them.
What's the key
to my refrigerator
and my freezer?
Care.
Just care.
Care enough.
Let the sound of its humming remind me
to nourish my soul, take care of my body.
II.
What's in my refrigerator?
False promises, that's what.
All expectations from food --
that it will make me less lonely,
that it offers strength, where there is fear,
that it sooths disappointments
like a lullaby from mother's lips,
that from food comes reality.
Oh yes, my refrigerator
has held promise all my life.
I'm chained to it, barely able to feel anything
for the numbing solace of food.
III.
I wear the refrigerator
around my neck,
not as a shawl,
but as a yoke.
IV.
Dear old refrigerator,
faithful old friend,
I've cast you off now.
I'm not wearing you
around my neck anymore.
I'm ashamed of all the years
I've held your hand.
Yet I look back and see you
as the most dependable anchor
in the deep waters of my life.
I miss you, dear pal.
You, like no person
and no other thing,
were always there for me.
I feel naked and scared
without you around my neck.
When I believe no one cares,
when there are too many
rocks in my path,
what will I do?
I look at you
and the answer comes to me.
I'll wear these words
in your place
to remind myself
that you are too heavy a load,
that rocks are just rocks,
that the Universe cares.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Since writing this poem, I've done the 10 to 50 pound yo-yo thing at least 8 times. What happened? I'm pretty certain that each time some event(s) triggered strong emotions... fear, loneliness, grief, possibly anger, possibly boredom. Under the influence of these emotions, I plum forgot that rocks are just rocks and that the Universe cares, which caused me to fall under the spell of my refrigerator... again.
That's why I'm in OA now. Because I forget about the Universe, the caring entity that some call God. Through OA I hope to come to a less shaky faith where I won't forget. And if I do, my sponsor and other members will remind me.... YES, the Universe does care.
Refrigerator
I.
Full refrigerator.
Humming refrigerator.
What's in my refrigerator?
Temptation.
Sustenance.
Mold.
Old salad dressings caked under bottle caps,
lettuce and asparagus, too yucky to eat.
Full freezer.
Humming freezer.
What's in my freezer?
Chicken breasts,
Vegetables.
Broth
Things for making healthy meals
if only I could remember to thaw them.
What's the key
to my refrigerator
and my freezer?
Care.
Just care.
Care enough.
Let the sound of its humming remind me
to nourish my soul, take care of my body.
II.
What's in my refrigerator?
False promises, that's what.
All expectations from food --
that it will make me less lonely,
that it offers strength, where there is fear,
that it sooths disappointments
like a lullaby from mother's lips,
that from food comes reality.
Oh yes, my refrigerator
has held promise all my life.
I'm chained to it, barely able to feel anything
for the numbing solace of food.
III.
I wear the refrigerator
around my neck,
not as a shawl,
but as a yoke.
IV.
Dear old refrigerator,
faithful old friend,
I've cast you off now.
I'm not wearing you
around my neck anymore.
I'm ashamed of all the years
I've held your hand.
Yet I look back and see you
as the most dependable anchor
in the deep waters of my life.
I miss you, dear pal.
You, like no person
and no other thing,
were always there for me.
I feel naked and scared
without you around my neck.
When I believe no one cares,
when there are too many
rocks in my path,
what will I do?
I look at you
and the answer comes to me.
I'll wear these words
in your place
to remind myself
that you are too heavy a load,
that rocks are just rocks,
that the Universe cares.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Since writing this poem, I've done the 10 to 50 pound yo-yo thing at least 8 times. What happened? I'm pretty certain that each time some event(s) triggered strong emotions... fear, loneliness, grief, possibly anger, possibly boredom. Under the influence of these emotions, I plum forgot that rocks are just rocks and that the Universe cares, which caused me to fall under the spell of my refrigerator... again.
That's why I'm in OA now. Because I forget about the Universe, the caring entity that some call God. Through OA I hope to come to a less shaky faith where I won't forget. And if I do, my sponsor and other members will remind me.... YES, the Universe does care.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Help Along the Way
In my late teens and all the way through my 50s, I loathed my body. I was just as obsessed with what I ate while dieting as I was when overeating and bingeing. It seemed to be a total preoccupation with appearance, as if how I looked was THE most important thing in the whole universe... as if MY fat legs mattered more than the AIDS virus or the Viet Nam War. As if fixing my body would fix my life. Geeeezst!
My dear husband started a shift in this mindset. He'd heard me slander my legs many times. One day he told me, "I'm taking your legs out to dinner tonight. It's Legs-Appreciation Night. I want you to tell me all the things your legs have done for you in your life... all the hiking, all the dancing. I want to hear all the details." I thought he was joking. He wasn't. He pushed me until I finally broke down and began to get into the spirit of the Legs-Appreciation thing.
What a huge gift! I shall be ever-grateful, because from that evening on, I have put cream on my legs, patted them and thanked them regularly. And the altered mindset has spread to the rest of my body. Even at my highest weight (OK, this might be the only time I mention this number...234), I could give thanks to my body. How can I hate something I am thanking? Hate for my body slowly drained away.
Even before this OA journey began, I knew that being thin or slim is mythical and that whatever it was, it wouldn't fix my life. I've been there, done that... dieted until I could fit comfortably in size 12 clothes... and still felt fat, ugly and unworthy of love or respect. Ever so slowly, I've come to understand that it's not about slim, not about the scale or pounds, not about appearances, not even about being fit.
In addition to the legs dinner, help along the way came from a poem that gradually taught me to accept myself just the way I am... Here it is:
Wild Geese by Mary Oliver
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
I read that poem often and substitute different words in the first line. I tell myself: You do not have to be thin. You do not have to be pretty. You do not have to be rich. You do not have to be right. You do not have to be smart. You do not have to be nice. You do not have to be happy. Even without any of those, you always have a place in the family of things.
Ooooh, that feels good. Let's try it this way: I do not have to be thin. I do not have to be pretty. I do not have to be rich. I do not have to be right. I do not have to be smart. I do not have to be nice. I do not have to be happy. Even without any of those, I always have a place in the family of things.
Good words to remember. Good words to fix my life!
My dear husband started a shift in this mindset. He'd heard me slander my legs many times. One day he told me, "I'm taking your legs out to dinner tonight. It's Legs-Appreciation Night. I want you to tell me all the things your legs have done for you in your life... all the hiking, all the dancing. I want to hear all the details." I thought he was joking. He wasn't. He pushed me until I finally broke down and began to get into the spirit of the Legs-Appreciation thing.
What a huge gift! I shall be ever-grateful, because from that evening on, I have put cream on my legs, patted them and thanked them regularly. And the altered mindset has spread to the rest of my body. Even at my highest weight (OK, this might be the only time I mention this number...234), I could give thanks to my body. How can I hate something I am thanking? Hate for my body slowly drained away.
Even before this OA journey began, I knew that being thin or slim is mythical and that whatever it was, it wouldn't fix my life. I've been there, done that... dieted until I could fit comfortably in size 12 clothes... and still felt fat, ugly and unworthy of love or respect. Ever so slowly, I've come to understand that it's not about slim, not about the scale or pounds, not about appearances, not even about being fit.
In addition to the legs dinner, help along the way came from a poem that gradually taught me to accept myself just the way I am... Here it is:
Wild Geese by Mary Oliver
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
I read that poem often and substitute different words in the first line. I tell myself: You do not have to be thin. You do not have to be pretty. You do not have to be rich. You do not have to be right. You do not have to be smart. You do not have to be nice. You do not have to be happy. Even without any of those, you always have a place in the family of things.
Ooooh, that feels good. Let's try it this way: I do not have to be thin. I do not have to be pretty. I do not have to be rich. I do not have to be right. I do not have to be smart. I do not have to be nice. I do not have to be happy. Even without any of those, I always have a place in the family of things.
Good words to remember. Good words to fix my life!
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
I Want to Write About Faith...
Today my emotions are all over the map... One minute I'm elated, bouncing around, getting things done. The next minute I'm hurt by some little thing my husband said. Then there's the crabby me... grumpy and wanting solitude. Oh, there's more... here comes the gloomy me, feeling sorry for myself and the world.
I guess this is to be expected. It's only day-12 of my sobriety. Not even close to being a habit yet, sobriety is still a big change for me. Nothing to dull my emotions, so they go all wonky. My husband is being pretty understanding about it, for which I'm very grateful.
Maybe prayer would help settle me down a bit, pull me together, make me feel less wonky... Prayer and the God/higher power thing will probably occupy a considerable space here in my journal, in my heart and thinking, in the forseeable future.
I came into OA knowing that I need and want to find a spiritual connection and a sense of trust in some stronger other, outside of myself. What do I believe right now? Hmmmm. Most of the time I believe that there exists a force of greater good in the universe. But today I'm finding it difficult to believe and trust even that much. Most of the time I believe in the concept of totem animals, that an animal spirit is with me since my birth and is available as a guide when I am open to it. How can I get to a spiritual place?
Poetry and writing my own poems help. Here is one by David Whyte that says better than I can how I'm feeling.
I want to be open to faith. Someone in my OA group said to pray whether or not you believe. Good idea! And so, my prayer is this: Let this simple journal entry be the first prayer that opens me to faith.
I guess this is to be expected. It's only day-12 of my sobriety. Not even close to being a habit yet, sobriety is still a big change for me. Nothing to dull my emotions, so they go all wonky. My husband is being pretty understanding about it, for which I'm very grateful.
Maybe prayer would help settle me down a bit, pull me together, make me feel less wonky... Prayer and the God/higher power thing will probably occupy a considerable space here in my journal, in my heart and thinking, in the forseeable future.
I came into OA knowing that I need and want to find a spiritual connection and a sense of trust in some stronger other, outside of myself. What do I believe right now? Hmmmm. Most of the time I believe that there exists a force of greater good in the universe. But today I'm finding it difficult to believe and trust even that much. Most of the time I believe in the concept of totem animals, that an animal spirit is with me since my birth and is available as a guide when I am open to it. How can I get to a spiritual place?
Poetry and writing my own poems help. Here is one by David Whyte that says better than I can how I'm feeling.
Faith
I want to write about faith,
about the way the moon rises
over cold snow, night after night,
faithful, even as it fades from fullness,
slowly becoming that last curving and impossible
sliver of light before the final darkness.
But I have no faith myself
I refuse it the smallest entry.
Let this then, my small poem,
like a new moon, slender and barely open,
be the first prayer that opens me to faith.
I want to be open to faith. Someone in my OA group said to pray whether or not you believe. Good idea! And so, my prayer is this: Let this simple journal entry be the first prayer that opens me to faith.
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