I received this message from a friend I know who lives in Turkey. Because I believe in freedom and because I believe that all people deserve the right to speak their minds I am re-posting word for word here. Silence and fear are the mind killers. Do with it what you will. And for those of you in Turkey and in all other areas of the world - I say this - LIVE FREE OR DIE.
"Please distribute to your friends. We need the international awareness. I do not know the author personally, but what he is saying is the truth."
Can Kılıç wrote:
"Dear international friends : For those of you who care about what is going on in Turkey, I would like to give a brief update, as the shit truly hit the fan today.
Things had calmed down somewhat during the past week after the original wave of violence at the start of the Turkish protest movement. The government had realized that the protesters had popular support, and they could not openly attack them as long as the protests remained peaceful. So they hoped and waited for any sign of violence from the protesters. There was none.
So the government decided to *fabricate* some. This morning, a group of civilian clothed men started throwing explosives at police forces - something that the protesters had never done. Interestingly, the police who had not before hesitated to use extreme violence against unarmed protesters suddenly became as effective as storm troopers in hitting anything with their water cannons. More interestingly, the men throwing the explosives were photographed as wearing gas masks that were police issued, carried concealed police pistols, and many of them had walkie-talkies on them. They were almost without a doubt members of secret police whose actions were used as an excuse for the police to start becoming violent again. So those water cannons that failed to hit a few provocateurs were turned back towards the peaceful protesters with surprising marksmanship.
I want to emphasize this extremely important fact. The protesters are *NOT* violent. The police *are*. Some of my closest friends are out there among the protesters. I am getting first hand information, pictures, reports of shameful acts and unbelievable cruelty by those who are being paid from taxpayer money to protect and to serve.
But wait, there is MORE. While all this was happening, in a move that would put Michael Corleone to shame, a team of police in riot gear entered a major courthouse complex which is in an entirely different part of town and has *nothing* to do with the protests. They proceeded to arrest over seventy attorneys - to my knowledge without ever bothering to declare an official reason. Of course, the real reason is that these attorneys have been representing (pro-bono) protesters who had been detained in the past couple of weeks. I want to make this very clear - these are lawyers basically going about their business in a courthouse complex that were arrested in the middle of the day for no official reason that could hold water.
*Also* at the same time, the ruling party in parliament struck down a proposition to begin an inquiry into excessive use of chemical weapons against unarmed people during the past few weeks.
While all this is going on, Turkish media is not only silent, they are complicit. They are being pressured to back up the government's outright lies that the protesters are using violence against the police. It has gone beyond disinformation, government officials as well media channels under their control are lying through their teeth without the least bit of shame. Fortunately, today international news organizations have started to realize that news agencies from within Turkey can no longer be trusted, and have started sending reporters from their own staff to Istanbul. Just to give you an idea of how completely the media is being dominated by the Turkish government, let me say that my friends have been following what is going on a few blocks from where they live on international news channels. One of CNN International's reporters has actually witnessed the violence first-hand as he was tear-gassed and kicked by police officers.
To sum up:
- The Turkish prime minister has completely given up any pretense of being a democratic leader.
- The government forces are at war with their own people, or rather those who see through their lies and do not vote for them. Whereas the people who did vote for them are being effectively kept in the dark and they are made to believe that the police are protecting them from the radical protesters.
- Disinformation, nay, straight-out lies are rampant.
- Violence by the police is unchecked, in fact it is targeted.
- If you know anyone in the media, please tell them to approach any statement from a Turkish government official with extreme suspicion.
- The government has apparently made a decision at some point that it will not yield to reason, at any cost. The cost may very well become the lives of a large number of innocent people who are either brutalized directly, or thrown into jail on bogus charges.
- Brave citizens of Turkey are standing up to bullies in power. If anyone tells you otherwise, it should take only a few questions to expose the inconsistencies in their fabricated stories."
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
Monday, June 10, 2013
You must love yourself a little because you're still alive
"When will Melissa be a success to herself?"
Ten years ago a woman asked me this question and it raged inside me. Why? Because the answer at the time was NEVER. NEVER EVER EVER.
I hated myself. I hated everything about myself.
Why did I hate myself so much? The same reasons many women hate themselves. Advertising. Social conditioning. Blah Blah Blah. And many reasons too - why women (and men) hate themselves AND ARE QUIET ABOUT IT.
Sickness. It's invisible and you can't tell unless I tell you. So I kept it a secret for years. It was my dirty little secret. It was always my theory that sex and emotional abuse contributed to autoimmune illnesses. Now research is finding that it DOES actually scar the brain. (Yes- it can be overcome, because brains are plastic - but still - I KNEW IT).
I was molested by my grandfather and cousin (who is now a registered sex offender) when I was a child. Before I could consent. I was raped when I was in high school by a boy I knew but who was NOT my friend and who I did NOT date or consent to go out with. I grew up feeling dirty and ugly and undeserving of love or attention.
Like many women I grew up feeling fat, unattractive, and undesirable. I NEVER felt like I could be loved or wanted. I got married to a "safe" man when I was 19 - a high school classmate and stayed in that marriage for a decade. It was a sexless marriage. We weren't lovers but we were friends. He was the son of an alcoholic. When we got married he had all the classic signs of codependency and problem drinking. When I ended our marriage after agonizing over it (because I was truly afraid of being on my own and I was co-dependent) he re-married another woman before I had even moved out completely. People ask me why I stayed in a 10 year sexless marriage and here is my answer. I TRULY THOUGHT IF I LOVED HIM ENOUGH I COULD CHANGE HIM AND MAKE HIM LOVE ME.
I have learned through treatment that alcoholics change codependents like they do underwear and it isn't me. I have learned NOT to take it personally and that while they might have TRIED to love me I wasn't very lovable myself because I lived in fear and tried to control them by "fixing" them and NOT focusing on MYSELF. THERE IS NO BLAME HERE.
I met my second husband who was my nightmare. He was a true sociopath and narcissist. It was a MATCH for a codependent like myself. By this time I was so bad at recognizing normal that I didn't realizing the truth from a lie. And he was an A-1 first class liar.
He married me for health insurance. But the truth of the matter is that I fell for him and he fell for me. I didn't NEED him because I was busy and "dating" my graduate program. And because "normal" women with self-esteem would NOT put up with him. So he fell for a codependent woman who snapped up his narcissism and he loved it and loved me. Really. Narcissists enjoy us until we "shut off their narcissist supply."
I never meant to do that. I failed him actually- by getting sick and making him look bad in front of his family. Oops. Meanwhile - he lied from day 1. He told me his HIV positive lover was his roommate. He had another roommate so I believed all 3 of them were roommates. I never questioned it. They all lied. I NEVER questioned it until I was already married and his "lover" had moved out on his own and gotten mad because I had re-painted and he said, "You never let ME redecorate." By then I was in too deep -- OR SO I THOUGHT. But it was lies. More lies. More things he didn't think I could handle. He gay lover was always in the picture. Sending flowers on our honeymoon or telling ME how to contact the lawncare people, telling ME how to cook. IF I HAD KNOWN, maybe I would have been given a consensual choice. I'm actually open minded enough, maybe I would have been OK WITH IT. But it was LIES. Yet I was so codependent I raged and fumed at his lover rather than at HIM.
I never held HIM responsible. Like when I cooked HIM DINNER on his birthday after he said he'd like it and then he stood me up so he could go out with his lover and his friends because he was "lonely for them all." If I had any horse sense I would have broken things off like a normal woman. But I was happy to have a man who LIKED ME. Happy to be having sex after all those years. Happy to be noticed. Happy to be mistreated because again - pain felt normal. Pain and being hurt felt normal. If it didn't hurt it didn't feel right. I just didn't realize it. So I shoved all that pain down with food and with WORK WORK WORK. I always worked. I had my own business and I went to grad school and I worked.
And he hurt me. How he hurt me. And how he pretended that he didn't. When it got really bad at the end I'd stay with my neighbors. But they were hispanic. And in hispanic families, even educated ones, sometimes women get hit. They said to me, "You don't want to call the police because then your marriage will end." And that really was my worst fear. I TRULY THOUGHT IF I LOVED HIM ENOUGH I COULD CHANGE HIM AND MAKE HIM LOVE ME.
He humiliated me, moved me out of my own house that I helped him re-finance in garbage bags when I was visiting my family in Ohio, he took my money even though he didn't need it and told me that if I got an attorney he'd enough racking up a court bill just because he had the money and I didn't. He used fear like it was a commodity and I bought into it. He was a crook and he did criminal things that he is no longer legally liable for and he can SING his criminal activity from the rooftops because the statue of limitations has run out. His father died of alcohol poisoning and so I KNOW why he is what he is - and yet he STILL TOOK ME TO THE HOSPITAL AND IF I HAD ANY OTHER PERSON TO DO IT I WOULD HAVE. He made sure to tell the neighbors that I was a drama queen and making it all up of course, and yet - he still took me to the hospital and I THOUGHT I needed it and so I clung to him until I realized that I would rather die than see his face again. And yet I lived.
My friends who still loved me came through for me and reminded me that I still had a soul and it was beautiful. They reminded me that they too had been abused. And they scooped my ass up and pulled me together and put me up in a little apartment where HOLY SHIT I was stalked by my fucking land lord. Why? Because people like me - who go untreated attract more drama. We do. Untreated codependenets attract more drama than you can shake a stick at. We just do.
I didn't date anyone for FIVE YEARS. I didn't have sex for FIVE YEARS. It was CRAAAZY.
Later I moved home to take care of my dad and you know what - my parents took care of me. It was a good situation. I got therapy, I found good friends. And life got calmer. It just did.
Except... I met a man I fell in love with his child. He said he wanted to marry me. I was in love!!! Wait for it! One day I opened his closet door and what did I find? Yep. Bottles. Hundreds. He's a raging alcoholic. He lost his job because he's a drunk. And I spent so much time fixing HIM and trying to get HIM to finish his degree and sort his resume that I almost forgot about myself. I put his son on the bus and made dinners and packed lunches and you know what -- I was BLISSFULLY HAPPY. Except - I wasn't married and this man was NEVER EVER EVER EVER EVER going to be able to provide me with any thing stable or long term. He cheated on me and he had another relationship with another woman who created drama and she cried and she showed up at his house and she screamed about how awful I was that I stole her man. And then wait for it. He round house punched me in the face and threw me into the wall. And I didn't leave. Oh no. I told him I wanted therapy. Why did I want therapy instead of punching that mother fucker back? I TRULY THOUGHT IF I LOVED HIM ENOUGH I COULD CHANGE HIM AND MAKE HIM LOVE ME. And I started pissing blood out of my kidneys and had to go to the hospital and EVERY ONE OF MY DOCTORS KNEW WHAT HAPPENED. They all knew. I couldn't keep it a secret any more. I was that woman. I was the woman who got hit. Only this time I said, "I'm leaving him."
And while I was at the hospital HE FUCKED ONE OF MY CLOSEST FRIENDS. Later she said that he date raped her. I will never know if this is true or if this is a dramatic thing she said because she was trying to make it all better. The difference is that I have been raped and I don't take it lightly. In fact, it changed the way I feel about him and her both.
More drama.
Only this time I begged god. Please. Please help. I'd like to say it all stopped overnight but it didn't. But I stopped seeing him. I KNEW that he wasn't for me. I KNEW that I didn't want to be hurt anymore. And I knew that I needed to stop hurting myself for hurting myself.
And I started being really good about going to therapy. And I went to al anon. And yes - I think it is a cult. And no - I don't think it fixes EVERYTHING. But I think it REALLY HELPS with boundaries. And I read DOZENS of books. And I started surrounding myself with ONLY the friends that are GOOD for me. And when I DON'T think people in my life are HEALTHY I don't cut them out. Do you know what I do? I pray for them and I DON'T spend time with them. I love them where they are. But I DO NOT surround myself with them on purpose and I do NOT TRY TO FIX THEM.
I'm FIXING MELISSA. I'm minding Melissa's business. I'm doing good things for me. It isn't selfish to take care of me. It's self preservation.
It's the first time I've felt like it's GOOD to exercise and get myself cared for and take my vitamins and medicine and even hang out with my friends. I go to universalist services and I meditate and I pray... I read books I like and I spend time with my family and friends. I DO WHAT I LIKE. And you know what - I'm HONEST. I'm REALLY FUCKING HONEST. If I don't like something I say so with kindness. And instead of beating around the bush - I just ASK for things now. I ask for what I want and I say thank you when people are willing to do it. Why? Because I'm NOT TAKING THINGS PERSONALLY ANYMORE. It isn't about me. IT ISN'T ABOUT ME. I'm not 100% and sometimes I find myself getting a little offended or snippy -- but mostly I realize that EVERYONE wants peace and most people are so in pain they spread it around to everyone.
My ex's all spread their pain to me EVERY WAY THEY COULD.
You can re-ask me the question: What does it take for Melissa to be a success to herself and now I can answer you. I have multiple degrees, a Masters in Library Science and a PhD and THAT doesn't make me a success. I have been rich and traveled all over the world and THAT doesn't make me a success. I have stayed in 5 star hotels and eaten at 5 star restaurants and THAT doesn't make me a success. You know what makes ME a success. Learning that I am lovable. Going through treatment. Getting help. Letting the world know that I'm NOT worthless. Letting YOU know that I'm not a failure. Letting YOU KNOW that sometimes women stay with men who beat them up and lie about them and we STILL STAY. We stay out of fear, out of financial destitution, out of NEED, out of love, and out of desperation. We stay because we are sick, or we NEED HELP and cannot walk. My ex-husband who is a fucking sociopath took me to the emergency room DURING OUR DIVORCE. He hated me. He hated my fucking guts. But he still took me to the emergency room. Why? Because I was SO FUCKING DESPERATELY ILL to do otherwise would have been to let me die. And even he isn't stupid enough to have done that.
We make unwise decisions and we help people when we shouldn't and we don't help ourselves. And we think unsafe people are safe and we don't trust like adults (as in - with a safety net) and when we trust we trust like children - with a free fall. So when people betray us- they BETRAY US. So I picked people who were fucking nuts to be around. And I seemed to get betrayed A LOT. "Oh my- I was blind sided" I would say. Again and again. "I don't know why h/she did that." I would say. AND I MEANT IT. But you know what- They did that because they were either really crazy or they were in a bad place or they were addicts or who fucking cares. I picked it PERFECTLY because I had an addiction to hurting myself because that's the only thing that felt "normal" to me.
It isn't normal. IT IS OK TO GET HELP. IT IS OK TO STOP DOING WHAT YOU'RE DOING.
It is OK to love yourself now.
And if you're not ready to leave - it is OK to take a small action towards it. It took me years and I want yo to know that I'm not judging you. You're doing enough of that already. Living in fear is that worst possible thing you can do. It just is. I'm making this post because I lived in fear. Fear of people finding out I was sick and not giving me a job. I lived in fear that people would find out I was an abused woman and then mock me for staying and then NOT GIVING ME A JOB. I lived in fear that my friends would think I was a weak asshole. I lived in fear fear fear fear fear.
And you know what - fuck fear. Nothing matters except living a meaningful life and being loving and being kind. And I mean - giving back to the people who need me the most. And you know what -- guess who NEEDS ME THE MOST RIGHT NOW? I NEED ME THE MOST. After that - people who CANNOT TAKE CARE OF THEMSELVES need me the most.
Thanks for reading. I really do care. Love, Melissa
Ten years ago a woman asked me this question and it raged inside me. Why? Because the answer at the time was NEVER. NEVER EVER EVER.
I hated myself. I hated everything about myself.
Why did I hate myself so much? The same reasons many women hate themselves. Advertising. Social conditioning. Blah Blah Blah. And many reasons too - why women (and men) hate themselves AND ARE QUIET ABOUT IT.
Sickness. It's invisible and you can't tell unless I tell you. So I kept it a secret for years. It was my dirty little secret. It was always my theory that sex and emotional abuse contributed to autoimmune illnesses. Now research is finding that it DOES actually scar the brain. (Yes- it can be overcome, because brains are plastic - but still - I KNEW IT).
I was molested by my grandfather and cousin (who is now a registered sex offender) when I was a child. Before I could consent. I was raped when I was in high school by a boy I knew but who was NOT my friend and who I did NOT date or consent to go out with. I grew up feeling dirty and ugly and undeserving of love or attention.
Like many women I grew up feeling fat, unattractive, and undesirable. I NEVER felt like I could be loved or wanted. I got married to a "safe" man when I was 19 - a high school classmate and stayed in that marriage for a decade. It was a sexless marriage. We weren't lovers but we were friends. He was the son of an alcoholic. When we got married he had all the classic signs of codependency and problem drinking. When I ended our marriage after agonizing over it (because I was truly afraid of being on my own and I was co-dependent) he re-married another woman before I had even moved out completely. People ask me why I stayed in a 10 year sexless marriage and here is my answer. I TRULY THOUGHT IF I LOVED HIM ENOUGH I COULD CHANGE HIM AND MAKE HIM LOVE ME.
I have learned through treatment that alcoholics change codependents like they do underwear and it isn't me. I have learned NOT to take it personally and that while they might have TRIED to love me I wasn't very lovable myself because I lived in fear and tried to control them by "fixing" them and NOT focusing on MYSELF. THERE IS NO BLAME HERE.
I met my second husband who was my nightmare. He was a true sociopath and narcissist. It was a MATCH for a codependent like myself. By this time I was so bad at recognizing normal that I didn't realizing the truth from a lie. And he was an A-1 first class liar.
He married me for health insurance. But the truth of the matter is that I fell for him and he fell for me. I didn't NEED him because I was busy and "dating" my graduate program. And because "normal" women with self-esteem would NOT put up with him. So he fell for a codependent woman who snapped up his narcissism and he loved it and loved me. Really. Narcissists enjoy us until we "shut off their narcissist supply."
I never meant to do that. I failed him actually- by getting sick and making him look bad in front of his family. Oops. Meanwhile - he lied from day 1. He told me his HIV positive lover was his roommate. He had another roommate so I believed all 3 of them were roommates. I never questioned it. They all lied. I NEVER questioned it until I was already married and his "lover" had moved out on his own and gotten mad because I had re-painted and he said, "You never let ME redecorate." By then I was in too deep -- OR SO I THOUGHT. But it was lies. More lies. More things he didn't think I could handle. He gay lover was always in the picture. Sending flowers on our honeymoon or telling ME how to contact the lawncare people, telling ME how to cook. IF I HAD KNOWN, maybe I would have been given a consensual choice. I'm actually open minded enough, maybe I would have been OK WITH IT. But it was LIES. Yet I was so codependent I raged and fumed at his lover rather than at HIM.
I never held HIM responsible. Like when I cooked HIM DINNER on his birthday after he said he'd like it and then he stood me up so he could go out with his lover and his friends because he was "lonely for them all." If I had any horse sense I would have broken things off like a normal woman. But I was happy to have a man who LIKED ME. Happy to be having sex after all those years. Happy to be noticed. Happy to be mistreated because again - pain felt normal. Pain and being hurt felt normal. If it didn't hurt it didn't feel right. I just didn't realize it. So I shoved all that pain down with food and with WORK WORK WORK. I always worked. I had my own business and I went to grad school and I worked.
And he hurt me. How he hurt me. And how he pretended that he didn't. When it got really bad at the end I'd stay with my neighbors. But they were hispanic. And in hispanic families, even educated ones, sometimes women get hit. They said to me, "You don't want to call the police because then your marriage will end." And that really was my worst fear. I TRULY THOUGHT IF I LOVED HIM ENOUGH I COULD CHANGE HIM AND MAKE HIM LOVE ME.
He humiliated me, moved me out of my own house that I helped him re-finance in garbage bags when I was visiting my family in Ohio, he took my money even though he didn't need it and told me that if I got an attorney he'd enough racking up a court bill just because he had the money and I didn't. He used fear like it was a commodity and I bought into it. He was a crook and he did criminal things that he is no longer legally liable for and he can SING his criminal activity from the rooftops because the statue of limitations has run out. His father died of alcohol poisoning and so I KNOW why he is what he is - and yet he STILL TOOK ME TO THE HOSPITAL AND IF I HAD ANY OTHER PERSON TO DO IT I WOULD HAVE. He made sure to tell the neighbors that I was a drama queen and making it all up of course, and yet - he still took me to the hospital and I THOUGHT I needed it and so I clung to him until I realized that I would rather die than see his face again. And yet I lived.
My friends who still loved me came through for me and reminded me that I still had a soul and it was beautiful. They reminded me that they too had been abused. And they scooped my ass up and pulled me together and put me up in a little apartment where HOLY SHIT I was stalked by my fucking land lord. Why? Because people like me - who go untreated attract more drama. We do. Untreated codependenets attract more drama than you can shake a stick at. We just do.
I didn't date anyone for FIVE YEARS. I didn't have sex for FIVE YEARS. It was CRAAAZY.
Later I moved home to take care of my dad and you know what - my parents took care of me. It was a good situation. I got therapy, I found good friends. And life got calmer. It just did.
Except... I met a man I fell in love with his child. He said he wanted to marry me. I was in love!!! Wait for it! One day I opened his closet door and what did I find? Yep. Bottles. Hundreds. He's a raging alcoholic. He lost his job because he's a drunk. And I spent so much time fixing HIM and trying to get HIM to finish his degree and sort his resume that I almost forgot about myself. I put his son on the bus and made dinners and packed lunches and you know what -- I was BLISSFULLY HAPPY. Except - I wasn't married and this man was NEVER EVER EVER EVER EVER going to be able to provide me with any thing stable or long term. He cheated on me and he had another relationship with another woman who created drama and she cried and she showed up at his house and she screamed about how awful I was that I stole her man. And then wait for it. He round house punched me in the face and threw me into the wall. And I didn't leave. Oh no. I told him I wanted therapy. Why did I want therapy instead of punching that mother fucker back? I TRULY THOUGHT IF I LOVED HIM ENOUGH I COULD CHANGE HIM AND MAKE HIM LOVE ME. And I started pissing blood out of my kidneys and had to go to the hospital and EVERY ONE OF MY DOCTORS KNEW WHAT HAPPENED. They all knew. I couldn't keep it a secret any more. I was that woman. I was the woman who got hit. Only this time I said, "I'm leaving him."
And while I was at the hospital HE FUCKED ONE OF MY CLOSEST FRIENDS. Later she said that he date raped her. I will never know if this is true or if this is a dramatic thing she said because she was trying to make it all better. The difference is that I have been raped and I don't take it lightly. In fact, it changed the way I feel about him and her both.
More drama.
Only this time I begged god. Please. Please help. I'd like to say it all stopped overnight but it didn't. But I stopped seeing him. I KNEW that he wasn't for me. I KNEW that I didn't want to be hurt anymore. And I knew that I needed to stop hurting myself for hurting myself.
And I started being really good about going to therapy. And I went to al anon. And yes - I think it is a cult. And no - I don't think it fixes EVERYTHING. But I think it REALLY HELPS with boundaries. And I read DOZENS of books. And I started surrounding myself with ONLY the friends that are GOOD for me. And when I DON'T think people in my life are HEALTHY I don't cut them out. Do you know what I do? I pray for them and I DON'T spend time with them. I love them where they are. But I DO NOT surround myself with them on purpose and I do NOT TRY TO FIX THEM.
I'm FIXING MELISSA. I'm minding Melissa's business. I'm doing good things for me. It isn't selfish to take care of me. It's self preservation.
It's the first time I've felt like it's GOOD to exercise and get myself cared for and take my vitamins and medicine and even hang out with my friends. I go to universalist services and I meditate and I pray... I read books I like and I spend time with my family and friends. I DO WHAT I LIKE. And you know what - I'm HONEST. I'm REALLY FUCKING HONEST. If I don't like something I say so with kindness. And instead of beating around the bush - I just ASK for things now. I ask for what I want and I say thank you when people are willing to do it. Why? Because I'm NOT TAKING THINGS PERSONALLY ANYMORE. It isn't about me. IT ISN'T ABOUT ME. I'm not 100% and sometimes I find myself getting a little offended or snippy -- but mostly I realize that EVERYONE wants peace and most people are so in pain they spread it around to everyone.
My ex's all spread their pain to me EVERY WAY THEY COULD.
You can re-ask me the question: What does it take for Melissa to be a success to herself and now I can answer you. I have multiple degrees, a Masters in Library Science and a PhD and THAT doesn't make me a success. I have been rich and traveled all over the world and THAT doesn't make me a success. I have stayed in 5 star hotels and eaten at 5 star restaurants and THAT doesn't make me a success. You know what makes ME a success. Learning that I am lovable. Going through treatment. Getting help. Letting the world know that I'm NOT worthless. Letting YOU know that I'm not a failure. Letting YOU KNOW that sometimes women stay with men who beat them up and lie about them and we STILL STAY. We stay out of fear, out of financial destitution, out of NEED, out of love, and out of desperation. We stay because we are sick, or we NEED HELP and cannot walk. My ex-husband who is a fucking sociopath took me to the emergency room DURING OUR DIVORCE. He hated me. He hated my fucking guts. But he still took me to the emergency room. Why? Because I was SO FUCKING DESPERATELY ILL to do otherwise would have been to let me die. And even he isn't stupid enough to have done that.
We make unwise decisions and we help people when we shouldn't and we don't help ourselves. And we think unsafe people are safe and we don't trust like adults (as in - with a safety net) and when we trust we trust like children - with a free fall. So when people betray us- they BETRAY US. So I picked people who were fucking nuts to be around. And I seemed to get betrayed A LOT. "Oh my- I was blind sided" I would say. Again and again. "I don't know why h/she did that." I would say. AND I MEANT IT. But you know what- They did that because they were either really crazy or they were in a bad place or they were addicts or who fucking cares. I picked it PERFECTLY because I had an addiction to hurting myself because that's the only thing that felt "normal" to me.
It isn't normal. IT IS OK TO GET HELP. IT IS OK TO STOP DOING WHAT YOU'RE DOING.
It is OK to love yourself now.
And if you're not ready to leave - it is OK to take a small action towards it. It took me years and I want yo to know that I'm not judging you. You're doing enough of that already. Living in fear is that worst possible thing you can do. It just is. I'm making this post because I lived in fear. Fear of people finding out I was sick and not giving me a job. I lived in fear that people would find out I was an abused woman and then mock me for staying and then NOT GIVING ME A JOB. I lived in fear that my friends would think I was a weak asshole. I lived in fear fear fear fear fear.
And you know what - fuck fear. Nothing matters except living a meaningful life and being loving and being kind. And I mean - giving back to the people who need me the most. And you know what -- guess who NEEDS ME THE MOST RIGHT NOW? I NEED ME THE MOST. After that - people who CANNOT TAKE CARE OF THEMSELVES need me the most.
Thanks for reading. I really do care. Love, Melissa
Sunday, December 23, 2012
I Will Make More Gardens
I fell in love with wildflowers as a child in our moving car. I’d watch them flow past and think each one beautiful. My favorite thing is still a field of wild daisies. There is nothing so beautiful or perfect as all the kinds of daisies. Later, I fell in love with roses too. My grandmother, mother, and a neighboring uncle always gardened. And so I grew up with large gardens full of lilacs, vegetables, plants, and flowers. My mother had a large picture window full of plants and she tended them and watered them and dusted and polished their leaves.
The first adult gift I ever received was from a woman at our church. She was a secret santa and she gave me a small plant. I loved it. It was very meaningful to me and I felt very grown up even though I was in elementary school. That plant became a symbol of generosity and kindness and keeping something alive. It was one of the most special gifts I remember receiving as a child.
I love to garden. I love plants. I love watching things grow.
When I have had gardens I would learn as much as I could about my own yard and what plants liked to grow in it. And then I would plant them.
Soon, I learned about soil. I learned what plants liked to be in different types of soil (more or less acid, more or less shade, more or less moisture).
Then, I learned that some plants were far more tenacious and others were not. Sometimes it was how they were bred, and sometimes it was an accident. Sometimes it was where I got them. Mostly though, I learned that if I LOVED how something looked, I could often ask the gardener and they would share a clipping with me and I could grow a clipping.
I learned that some plants and flowers are annuals and are just for being pretty for a short time. Others, perennials, come back year after year. For a while, I stayed away from annuals because it seemed like a waste of money and effort. I enjoyed watching my perennials grow and bloom.
Sometimes, my favorites (like hostas), were quiet and subtle and very hardy. Their lush green leaves are often used as a “backdrop” for flowers. I loved these plants and enjoyed how different each one could be and how big they grew year after year. Sometimes I planted them without any flowers around them, just so I could enjoy seeing them all by themselves.
Over the years, I’ve had many gardens and many types of plants. I’ve loved them all. In one community garden I had a small raised bed and the only thing we were allowed to grow was vegetables, so I grew them. I grew all kinds of vegetables I enjoyed and each day I visited and watched them grow. I remember finding the lack of flowers less than pleasant and so I put potted flowers and herbs on my balcony so I could still enjoy them.
When I had a house I remember going through a breakup and as I put my hands in the dirt I remember feeling intimately connected to the earth and feeling grounded. I felt that the world would be OK as long as I could walk and have my hands connect me to the ground.
Later I rented a small place and began weeding two very small beds. I planted things and watched them grow. I knew anything I put into the garden would always stay at that rental, but I needed to garden for me. And so I did. And the little garden made me happy. And I enjoyed my time outside, putting flowers into the ground and watching them bloom.
Once, when I had a big back yard, I enjoyed practicing how many shade loving flowers I could get to grow there. And I could get many of them to bloom and be happy. A friend even gave me a beautiful Japanese maple in memory of her late husband. Other friends gave me benches and seats and lovely things to make my backyard garden more enjoyable. It was lovely and habitable.
Years later, I dated a man with a mother in the mid-stages of dementia. In her past she was a prolific gardener, but had not been able to garden for more than fifteen years. Her garden was overgrown and dying. I began to plant small things in her garden and pull weeds. She watched me garden for more than a month. And then one day she came outside and began to pull weeds with me. She didn’t say anything, but I had found her flowers under a great deal of overgrown vines. And they were still there. I believed that whatever the earth and flowers had spoken to her years ago began calling to her because she understood it again. Gardens are wordless. Their beauty is wordless.
That day we understood each other and I felt both humbled and grateful to be in her garden and see what she had done. It was magical. I wanted to give her back a garden of beauty so she could have flowers and a bird bath and sit outside in the mornings and drink tea. I’ve had those moments and I knew because she pulled weeds with me one afternoon, she’d had hundreds of those moments too.
I once said that the people in our lives are like flowers and plants. Sometimes they simply need to be tended more or be listened to, so we can understand what they need. And, if a plant or flower doesn’t work out well, it is very disappointing – especially if we love it. We might try to repair it or get help from an expert. But usually, we just move it to a new location. If it begins to die badly and you can’t give it to someone else with a better home for it, you pull it up and you toss it in the compost. You did your best.
Sometimes though, it’s the actual garden that is damaging the plant and not the plant. And then you take a good hard look at the area. If it isn’t any thing you can think of, you put a decorative rock or a bird feeder there and let it be. Life is too short to fight with your garden that much.
Once, when I was very impatient at the beginning of a many year garden project that would have taken a landscaper a few weeks, one of my gardening friends said to me wise words. She said, “Gardens take time.” Gardens take time.
I wanted an instant beautiful garden and I wanted it right then. I was so impatient. I remember having that feeling for years actually, because I did love my garden and I had so many ideas and plans for it.
While I was busy planning my garden, I got to do so many other things. I got to enjoy it and watch it and get mad at the squirrels who stole my bulbs! They did! They dug them up even if I fed them. I started to understand the rhythm of my garden. And, after a breakup I had to leave that garden. I was terribly sad because it was one of my favorites. Another wise woman with a lovely garden said to me, “Melissa, you will plant more gardens; you will make more beauty.” And I knew it, but I found it hard to believe. It was like saying, “You will love again.”
But she was right. I did plant more gardens. I do still love to put my hands in the earth. I love to see things grow. I love how solid and real plants are when we give them what we need.
It is winter now and I am not gardening. I keep a few plants alive. I give my cat wheat grass and cat nip. I plan gardens in my head. I miss gardens I have had and rather than mourn them I send them love. I hope their new owners are loving them as I did. I send the over grown gardens love and their roots beauty. And I take walks and admire other people’s gardens and it keeps me grounded.
I ponder the wisdom of plants and gardens. In listening to their needs we learn to listen to life. We learn to listen to our own needs. And we learn to slow down and have a cup of tea over the garden we planted. Because someday we won’t be able to sit in our garden any more. Maybe we won’t even have our memories but we will have our soul song and it will connect us to each other. It will connect us to what is meaningful and what matters.
I’m in the winter season of my life right now (literally and metaphorically). I’m reflecting on what I want. I’m allowing old relationships to die. I’m even mourning losses. I’m wrapping up endings. And I’m awaiting spring. I’m sitting with my family and friends more. I’m being still and listening more. And I realize that sometimes it has that familiar feeling – like when my friend said, “gardens take time.” I’ve been feeling a little sorry for myself. But I’ve also found a great deal to feel grateful for. I’ve realized that when I feel the sorriest and saddest, I stop and say, “I’m SO GLAD that I got to have that experience or person.” And I realize that they were one of my favorite plants or flowers. And I spent an enormous time planning the garden. And long after the flower is gone I can sip my tea and say, “It was a beautiful thing!” And, “There will be more gardens!”
I’m missing people right now. Especially for the holidays. Mostly because of the traditions and because this is when we have all those memories upon us. Some of the people I miss are dead. Some are simply gone away. A young boy I love and miss sent me a card. He told me he missed me too and wanted to spend Christmas with me and my cat. And it hurt me so deeply I cried and cried. I have been holding on for a very long time - not just to him but to the family I yearn for and what he represents. He represents being accepted for who I am, even if I am sick. He represents a family of my own. He represents shared love. All these things I cannot control in life. All these things I have worried about and felt I would not have or could not have. And so letting go of it has been a process even harder than accepting such things can exist in my life.
Someday, someday soon - his memories won’t feel like a wound. They will feel like memories of my gardens. And I will be able to smile with loving joy. Someday I will look back and I will remember how beautiful the time we spent together being a family was rather than with pain. Always when we prune, we make room for something new. But when something unexpected happens, like a storm, and a large branch gets torn off, it hurts even more deeply because you love that tree or plant. And you have to cut and prune even more than you’d like. It isn’t just to keep it looking attractive, but to keep it alive.
Yet, something powerful happens when you care for wounded trees and plants. Trimming away the broken parts keeps it from merely surviving or worse, getting rotten parts. It helps it heal. It helps it shed the damaged pieces. Usually they thrive after a brief period. You look up one day and suddenly you realize new branches have formed and the tree or plant has just sorted itself out.
There can be joy even in my sorrow. There are friends and family surrounding me. They are bringing me the clippings of their lives and saying to me in their own way, “I’d like you to plant this when you are ready.” And I realize that in the spring my garden will be a riot of color. This isn’t what I expected this year. It is not. But it is impossible not to be grateful for my thoughtful neighbor who dropped by with gluten free brownies. I’m so grateful for my loving friends who stop by just because – to watch movies, to say hello, to play games, because there is love. I have lived a life of meaning and in so doing, I have already made a place of love and belonging.
The first adult gift I ever received was from a woman at our church. She was a secret santa and she gave me a small plant. I loved it. It was very meaningful to me and I felt very grown up even though I was in elementary school. That plant became a symbol of generosity and kindness and keeping something alive. It was one of the most special gifts I remember receiving as a child.
I love to garden. I love plants. I love watching things grow.
When I have had gardens I would learn as much as I could about my own yard and what plants liked to grow in it. And then I would plant them.
Soon, I learned about soil. I learned what plants liked to be in different types of soil (more or less acid, more or less shade, more or less moisture).
Then, I learned that some plants were far more tenacious and others were not. Sometimes it was how they were bred, and sometimes it was an accident. Sometimes it was where I got them. Mostly though, I learned that if I LOVED how something looked, I could often ask the gardener and they would share a clipping with me and I could grow a clipping.
I learned that some plants and flowers are annuals and are just for being pretty for a short time. Others, perennials, come back year after year. For a while, I stayed away from annuals because it seemed like a waste of money and effort. I enjoyed watching my perennials grow and bloom.
Sometimes, my favorites (like hostas), were quiet and subtle and very hardy. Their lush green leaves are often used as a “backdrop” for flowers. I loved these plants and enjoyed how different each one could be and how big they grew year after year. Sometimes I planted them without any flowers around them, just so I could enjoy seeing them all by themselves.
Over the years, I’ve had many gardens and many types of plants. I’ve loved them all. In one community garden I had a small raised bed and the only thing we were allowed to grow was vegetables, so I grew them. I grew all kinds of vegetables I enjoyed and each day I visited and watched them grow. I remember finding the lack of flowers less than pleasant and so I put potted flowers and herbs on my balcony so I could still enjoy them.
When I had a house I remember going through a breakup and as I put my hands in the dirt I remember feeling intimately connected to the earth and feeling grounded. I felt that the world would be OK as long as I could walk and have my hands connect me to the ground.
Later I rented a small place and began weeding two very small beds. I planted things and watched them grow. I knew anything I put into the garden would always stay at that rental, but I needed to garden for me. And so I did. And the little garden made me happy. And I enjoyed my time outside, putting flowers into the ground and watching them bloom.
Once, when I had a big back yard, I enjoyed practicing how many shade loving flowers I could get to grow there. And I could get many of them to bloom and be happy. A friend even gave me a beautiful Japanese maple in memory of her late husband. Other friends gave me benches and seats and lovely things to make my backyard garden more enjoyable. It was lovely and habitable.
Years later, I dated a man with a mother in the mid-stages of dementia. In her past she was a prolific gardener, but had not been able to garden for more than fifteen years. Her garden was overgrown and dying. I began to plant small things in her garden and pull weeds. She watched me garden for more than a month. And then one day she came outside and began to pull weeds with me. She didn’t say anything, but I had found her flowers under a great deal of overgrown vines. And they were still there. I believed that whatever the earth and flowers had spoken to her years ago began calling to her because she understood it again. Gardens are wordless. Their beauty is wordless.
That day we understood each other and I felt both humbled and grateful to be in her garden and see what she had done. It was magical. I wanted to give her back a garden of beauty so she could have flowers and a bird bath and sit outside in the mornings and drink tea. I’ve had those moments and I knew because she pulled weeds with me one afternoon, she’d had hundreds of those moments too.
I once said that the people in our lives are like flowers and plants. Sometimes they simply need to be tended more or be listened to, so we can understand what they need. And, if a plant or flower doesn’t work out well, it is very disappointing – especially if we love it. We might try to repair it or get help from an expert. But usually, we just move it to a new location. If it begins to die badly and you can’t give it to someone else with a better home for it, you pull it up and you toss it in the compost. You did your best.
Sometimes though, it’s the actual garden that is damaging the plant and not the plant. And then you take a good hard look at the area. If it isn’t any thing you can think of, you put a decorative rock or a bird feeder there and let it be. Life is too short to fight with your garden that much.
Once, when I was very impatient at the beginning of a many year garden project that would have taken a landscaper a few weeks, one of my gardening friends said to me wise words. She said, “Gardens take time.” Gardens take time.
I wanted an instant beautiful garden and I wanted it right then. I was so impatient. I remember having that feeling for years actually, because I did love my garden and I had so many ideas and plans for it.
While I was busy planning my garden, I got to do so many other things. I got to enjoy it and watch it and get mad at the squirrels who stole my bulbs! They did! They dug them up even if I fed them. I started to understand the rhythm of my garden. And, after a breakup I had to leave that garden. I was terribly sad because it was one of my favorites. Another wise woman with a lovely garden said to me, “Melissa, you will plant more gardens; you will make more beauty.” And I knew it, but I found it hard to believe. It was like saying, “You will love again.”
But she was right. I did plant more gardens. I do still love to put my hands in the earth. I love to see things grow. I love how solid and real plants are when we give them what we need.
It is winter now and I am not gardening. I keep a few plants alive. I give my cat wheat grass and cat nip. I plan gardens in my head. I miss gardens I have had and rather than mourn them I send them love. I hope their new owners are loving them as I did. I send the over grown gardens love and their roots beauty. And I take walks and admire other people’s gardens and it keeps me grounded.
I ponder the wisdom of plants and gardens. In listening to their needs we learn to listen to life. We learn to listen to our own needs. And we learn to slow down and have a cup of tea over the garden we planted. Because someday we won’t be able to sit in our garden any more. Maybe we won’t even have our memories but we will have our soul song and it will connect us to each other. It will connect us to what is meaningful and what matters.
I’m in the winter season of my life right now (literally and metaphorically). I’m reflecting on what I want. I’m allowing old relationships to die. I’m even mourning losses. I’m wrapping up endings. And I’m awaiting spring. I’m sitting with my family and friends more. I’m being still and listening more. And I realize that sometimes it has that familiar feeling – like when my friend said, “gardens take time.” I’ve been feeling a little sorry for myself. But I’ve also found a great deal to feel grateful for. I’ve realized that when I feel the sorriest and saddest, I stop and say, “I’m SO GLAD that I got to have that experience or person.” And I realize that they were one of my favorite plants or flowers. And I spent an enormous time planning the garden. And long after the flower is gone I can sip my tea and say, “It was a beautiful thing!” And, “There will be more gardens!”
I’m missing people right now. Especially for the holidays. Mostly because of the traditions and because this is when we have all those memories upon us. Some of the people I miss are dead. Some are simply gone away. A young boy I love and miss sent me a card. He told me he missed me too and wanted to spend Christmas with me and my cat. And it hurt me so deeply I cried and cried. I have been holding on for a very long time - not just to him but to the family I yearn for and what he represents. He represents being accepted for who I am, even if I am sick. He represents a family of my own. He represents shared love. All these things I cannot control in life. All these things I have worried about and felt I would not have or could not have. And so letting go of it has been a process even harder than accepting such things can exist in my life.
Someday, someday soon - his memories won’t feel like a wound. They will feel like memories of my gardens. And I will be able to smile with loving joy. Someday I will look back and I will remember how beautiful the time we spent together being a family was rather than with pain. Always when we prune, we make room for something new. But when something unexpected happens, like a storm, and a large branch gets torn off, it hurts even more deeply because you love that tree or plant. And you have to cut and prune even more than you’d like. It isn’t just to keep it looking attractive, but to keep it alive.
Yet, something powerful happens when you care for wounded trees and plants. Trimming away the broken parts keeps it from merely surviving or worse, getting rotten parts. It helps it heal. It helps it shed the damaged pieces. Usually they thrive after a brief period. You look up one day and suddenly you realize new branches have formed and the tree or plant has just sorted itself out.
There can be joy even in my sorrow. There are friends and family surrounding me. They are bringing me the clippings of their lives and saying to me in their own way, “I’d like you to plant this when you are ready.” And I realize that in the spring my garden will be a riot of color. This isn’t what I expected this year. It is not. But it is impossible not to be grateful for my thoughtful neighbor who dropped by with gluten free brownies. I’m so grateful for my loving friends who stop by just because – to watch movies, to say hello, to play games, because there is love. I have lived a life of meaning and in so doing, I have already made a place of love and belonging.
Friday, November 23, 2012
Gratitude and Grief
Last week a friend and I both spoke with each other about our life events. She has been so supportive and amazing in my life. When she mentioned that she was going to blog about gratitude I said, "Yes! I will too!" And then I didn't.
I've been FORCING myself to list out reasons to be grateful this year. For example, last year this time, we were pushing food through a feeding tube on my father. This year, he cannot taste much food or swallow well and the chemo of the clinical trials took all of his remaining hearing and his balance - but my father is HERE.
I'm so sad for my friend who lost his girlfriend (and one of my close friends). I'm grieving her too, and we are both sad. But I'm grateful HE is still in my life. I'm frustrated about my health and though it goes up an down, I realize that is part of the process too - getting used to dealing with uncertainty and recognizing that I can't always predict who I will have in my life when I NEED someone. But having faith that someone WILL be here. Someone was there for my friend who died. And though it is hard right now dealing with her being gone.
For me, recognizing that grief is NOT shameful is OK. Some people tell me to "get over it" - or they tell me how they are getting over the loss of their sister more quickly than I am getting over her. But I realize that maybe they aren't. We each deal with our pain in different ways. But a month later, and my friend who chastised me finally told me they've been depressed. And I realize now that taking TIME to grieve IN OUR OWN WAY is important. No one can tell us how to be grateful, just as no one can tell us how to grieve. And in some ways, grieving is sort of like being grateful. It is our way of expressing how important someone or something was.
I've also been sad about a recent breakup. I'm glad I got to know him and his son but not tucking the son into bed or reading to him and packing lunches has been hard for me. You see, I have a white picket fence dream - and it is hard to grieve the loss of a child and my dream of family (and my old unwanted patterns I'm changing), in addition to the loss of a relationship. The good things, I realize I would be a good mother. I found that I WAS NOT being punished by God or anyone else and mothering/nurturing comes quite joyously to me. And I get to take time to create new patterns in my life. These are all good things. But they don't necessarily FEEL GOOD when they are happening (especially during holidays full of memories and times when we want to be surrounded by family and food and celebration).
Grieving is part of a process that is HARD for me to be grateful for - but it is also "normal." When I stand back from the initial pain, I can see that knowing some of the bigger pains, there IS much to be grateful for right now. SO MUCH. And - I'm not trying to cover some of my pain with new agey bullshit. I'm not.
Yesterday before I went to a Friendsgiving with my friends, I cried because I was sad. Then, I went and a group of us met up for dinner and to play games and talk. We talked and laughed, and for a good part of the evening I stopped missing what I didn't have. I had fun. And in those moments, I enjoyed my friends. I am grateful for those times when I could just laugh and have fun. Even if I wasn't living my dream life, I lived a moment of pain-free joy. I laughed.
Then, I came home. I fed my cat. And because he plays so hard with his toys he kicks most of them under my door, I returned them to his corner of toys so he can play with them another day. He is a happy cat. He is healthy. And that is yet another thing for which I can be grateful. Sometimes, even the little things matter. And he is not so little to me.
I've been FORCING myself to list out reasons to be grateful this year. For example, last year this time, we were pushing food through a feeding tube on my father. This year, he cannot taste much food or swallow well and the chemo of the clinical trials took all of his remaining hearing and his balance - but my father is HERE.
I'm so sad for my friend who lost his girlfriend (and one of my close friends). I'm grieving her too, and we are both sad. But I'm grateful HE is still in my life. I'm frustrated about my health and though it goes up an down, I realize that is part of the process too - getting used to dealing with uncertainty and recognizing that I can't always predict who I will have in my life when I NEED someone. But having faith that someone WILL be here. Someone was there for my friend who died. And though it is hard right now dealing with her being gone.
For me, recognizing that grief is NOT shameful is OK. Some people tell me to "get over it" - or they tell me how they are getting over the loss of their sister more quickly than I am getting over her. But I realize that maybe they aren't. We each deal with our pain in different ways. But a month later, and my friend who chastised me finally told me they've been depressed. And I realize now that taking TIME to grieve IN OUR OWN WAY is important. No one can tell us how to be grateful, just as no one can tell us how to grieve. And in some ways, grieving is sort of like being grateful. It is our way of expressing how important someone or something was.
I've also been sad about a recent breakup. I'm glad I got to know him and his son but not tucking the son into bed or reading to him and packing lunches has been hard for me. You see, I have a white picket fence dream - and it is hard to grieve the loss of a child and my dream of family (and my old unwanted patterns I'm changing), in addition to the loss of a relationship. The good things, I realize I would be a good mother. I found that I WAS NOT being punished by God or anyone else and mothering/nurturing comes quite joyously to me. And I get to take time to create new patterns in my life. These are all good things. But they don't necessarily FEEL GOOD when they are happening (especially during holidays full of memories and times when we want to be surrounded by family and food and celebration).
Grieving is part of a process that is HARD for me to be grateful for - but it is also "normal." When I stand back from the initial pain, I can see that knowing some of the bigger pains, there IS much to be grateful for right now. SO MUCH. And - I'm not trying to cover some of my pain with new agey bullshit. I'm not.
Yesterday before I went to a Friendsgiving with my friends, I cried because I was sad. Then, I went and a group of us met up for dinner and to play games and talk. We talked and laughed, and for a good part of the evening I stopped missing what I didn't have. I had fun. And in those moments, I enjoyed my friends. I am grateful for those times when I could just laugh and have fun. Even if I wasn't living my dream life, I lived a moment of pain-free joy. I laughed.
Then, I came home. I fed my cat. And because he plays so hard with his toys he kicks most of them under my door, I returned them to his corner of toys so he can play with them another day. He is a happy cat. He is healthy. And that is yet another thing for which I can be grateful. Sometimes, even the little things matter. And he is not so little to me.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Creating Something Useful Out of My Pattern
I once found the lost earring of my friend, M, while we were traveling abroad. I mailed it to her home in NYC before she even arrived back home. She died eight weeks ago. And as I've wrestled with her death, I've contemplated that earring.
I've written her letters that she won't get to read.
All of us are beautiful. We are just sometimes LOST. And we need to find ourselves. And sometimes we have relationships. And sometimes we need to have relationship with ourselves. And sometimes we need to love and forgive ourselves. And sometimes we need to have boundaries with others... and sometimes we need to be kind to others.
I see myself in others - sometimes so beautiful, and sometimes so ugly. I see how we treat each other. I realized that I act like that - good and bad. We all seek people and situations who hurt us -- attempting to touch the dark, attempting in vain to heal it, again and again. Until we work it through, getting our own inner work and inner demons out of the way. And they are all different and unique. Yet, they are all so very much the same. We are all wanting to be seen and accepted and loved for who we are. And yet we fear it.
If I am truly loved and seen and accepted for who I am, then it must be a lie. Because (until I have healed those inner demons), I'm not WORTH being loved for who I AM. I have to EARN IT. I have to STRIVE for it. I have to touch the darkness and try to heal it by sorting through the repeating pattern that feels familiar).
MY WORK - within myself - is to come to terms with the idea that I can't FIX other people. I can only love them where they are. I can champion them. I can support them. I can cheer them on. But I cannot FIX THEM. And I cannot FIX ME.
Because even though I might FEEL bad or wrong- I'm not. I'm not a failure. I haven't had the LIFE I wanted, but I'm not broken. And as I learn to love myself the way I am (with illness, with my patterns), I will stop needing to embrace the dark and touch it and trying to fix it. And I will start to open more and more to the light. I will learn to be OK with who I am. Learn to not only love myself by BEING loving to myself. But to learn to let people love me.
I have said this in other ways before. But the earring and my friend's death have given me much to contemplate. I don't think we only repeat unhealthy or bad patterns. I think we also draw in people and situations that are positive and remind us of our strength and beauty and light. I think that is part of it or else we'd always be one step behind. I think part of the repeating pattern is like a quilt that gets made up of our life. When we look at it I think sometimes it might look ugly. Or it might not be the colors we would originally have picked. But the pattern itself is remarkable. Or maybe it is a crazy quilt when we are actually very precise people and we would have preferred something less erratic. Yet we also draw in the good people who keep us on track and remind us that we ARE beautiful, and we are lovable, and we ARE MAKING IT.
I'm having that moment as I write this. She is one of those people. I have a few in my life. Sometimes they have reached down and helped me for NO REASON and I have felt blessed. Sometimes they have simply lived and I watched their actions. And sometimes they have hurt my feelings and I have had to be strong and grow a thick skin. But the patterns of beautiful people that I see reflected in me and in the "ugly" that I see reflected in me are useful. It isn't one or the other. It isn't all dark or light. We need both to create something useful.
I've written her letters that she won't get to read.
"Life and death are like your earring. It is a cycle. It all comes back. We will find it and lose it and find it again. Sometimes we will hurt and sometimes we will have joy."I continued,
"Lessons. They don't just repeat for me again and again. We find them in each other too. Good things, joyous qualities - beauty. And problem areas - areas to be worked out - again and again. We are all in this together and we are all one. Life is a circle. It is karma. Thank you. I love and miss you. And I will see you again."
All of us are beautiful. We are just sometimes LOST. And we need to find ourselves. And sometimes we have relationships. And sometimes we need to have relationship with ourselves. And sometimes we need to love and forgive ourselves. And sometimes we need to have boundaries with others... and sometimes we need to be kind to others.
I see myself in others - sometimes so beautiful, and sometimes so ugly. I see how we treat each other. I realized that I act like that - good and bad. We all seek people and situations who hurt us -- attempting to touch the dark, attempting in vain to heal it, again and again. Until we work it through, getting our own inner work and inner demons out of the way. And they are all different and unique. Yet, they are all so very much the same. We are all wanting to be seen and accepted and loved for who we are. And yet we fear it.
If I am truly loved and seen and accepted for who I am, then it must be a lie. Because (until I have healed those inner demons), I'm not WORTH being loved for who I AM. I have to EARN IT. I have to STRIVE for it. I have to touch the darkness and try to heal it by sorting through the repeating pattern that feels familiar).
MY WORK - within myself - is to come to terms with the idea that I can't FIX other people. I can only love them where they are. I can champion them. I can support them. I can cheer them on. But I cannot FIX THEM. And I cannot FIX ME.
Because even though I might FEEL bad or wrong- I'm not. I'm not a failure. I haven't had the LIFE I wanted, but I'm not broken. And as I learn to love myself the way I am (with illness, with my patterns), I will stop needing to embrace the dark and touch it and trying to fix it. And I will start to open more and more to the light. I will learn to be OK with who I am. Learn to not only love myself by BEING loving to myself. But to learn to let people love me.
I have said this in other ways before. But the earring and my friend's death have given me much to contemplate. I don't think we only repeat unhealthy or bad patterns. I think we also draw in people and situations that are positive and remind us of our strength and beauty and light. I think that is part of it or else we'd always be one step behind. I think part of the repeating pattern is like a quilt that gets made up of our life. When we look at it I think sometimes it might look ugly. Or it might not be the colors we would originally have picked. But the pattern itself is remarkable. Or maybe it is a crazy quilt when we are actually very precise people and we would have preferred something less erratic. Yet we also draw in the good people who keep us on track and remind us that we ARE beautiful, and we are lovable, and we ARE MAKING IT.
I'm having that moment as I write this. She is one of those people. I have a few in my life. Sometimes they have reached down and helped me for NO REASON and I have felt blessed. Sometimes they have simply lived and I watched their actions. And sometimes they have hurt my feelings and I have had to be strong and grow a thick skin. But the patterns of beautiful people that I see reflected in me and in the "ugly" that I see reflected in me are useful. It isn't one or the other. It isn't all dark or light. We need both to create something useful.
Sunday, September 9, 2012
Something That Made Me Happy
I haven't been feeling well. Economically speaking things haven't been that great either. I spent most of what I have on medication. Sometimes life seems like a cycle of setbacks and disappointments followed by trying hard and working towards things that seem to come so easily for other people (and that they take so for granted).
Last night something happened for me. I stopped. I stopped and looked around.
I took it in. I was happy. I didn't worry about money. I didn't worry about my career. I didn't worry about my health. I just sat there surrounded by people I truly love.
Why? Because one week and one day ago one of my very best friends died. She died from complications of stage IV rectal cancer. We all thought she had gone into remission. But even so - she kept being tired and was "too tired" for visitors. We thought it was from chemo. We thought it was fatigue. I wanted to visit her earlier on a quick weekend road trip when I had the energy but she wasn't up for it. I insisted that I didn't need entertained - that I UNDERSTOOD fatigue more than most people. But she wasn't "up" for visitors. I get it when people say they aren't up for it... it means she wasn't showering much and was probably eating whatever she could scrape together. Again - I pointed out to this friend how VERY WELL I could understand it and that if I was up for a trip I was also up for tidying her house or doing dishes etc ignoring the rest AND doing laundry or getting her groceries or making her meals... and how very well I could cope with someone not able to get around because I often cannot.
I called a second friend who had just had knee surgery and no one to take care of her -- she was embarrassed about much the same things. Her house was a mess and she was lethargic and tired and "not up" for visitors. She also insisted she wasn't up for it. I didn't visit her either. She didn't die a week ago. She's still alive. (I'm still angry that I let TWO friends deny me visits during this time). Seriously. If it isn't a special weekend you've planned with lots of sex and snuggling and you need PRIVATE TIME - I don't want to hear it.
I tried to visit both of them. I know more than most how difficult it is to be both a patient and a caretaker. And I know how hard it is to let people see us when we are not our best. I know how hard it is to let people do things for us and love us and see our homes and lives when undone chores pile up or we aren't happy, chipper, or haven't showered etc.
Anyway- back to yesterday -- I have been mourning my friend who is dead. I have been grieving for her partner who is so sad because there is so very little we can do for him. And I have been grieving for myself - because I don't feel well and because I have been feeling so unhappy in my own life.
And then yesterday I watched one friend cry about her job and career. She is a beautiful amazing successful woman. She really is. And she was unhappy and frustrated because she isn't where she WANTS to be. And then another friend cried because our small group was talking about death and spirituality and afterlife beliefs. She was just triggered by the talk and cried about not knowing what to believe. And that made me smile... because not knowing what to believe is so human. Another friend spent half an hour "intellectualizing" his fears of afterlife by reading what every major religion believes about the afterlife and death. We watched a movie. Some people ate ice cream. Some people drank. Some people played a board game. And I realized I didn't cry. I was too happy and fulfilled in the moment. THIS is life.
I'm sad. I'm grieving. I will cry again and again. But last night I was completely happy watching everyone else feel frustrated and lost and upset in our humanity. And I realized that fear of death was almost bigger than death itself. Because my friend is gone but those of us who love her are the people left to cope with it and grieve. My friend who is dead doesn't have to deal with it anymore.
In some small way- the process and meaning of death is even for the living. So I can comfort her partner and mourn for myself. But I am also reminded that life - and living - and loving the people I love is what matters TO ME.
And mostly what struck me last night: Every single person in the room was in some way unhappy and in some small way happy. And there was no "universal" factor or step or thing about them to find what made them happy or unhappy. And I know for me I was very sad and grieving yesterday and yet took great joy in my friends and in being around them was truly happy in their friendship. So much so I forgot my own things for a short time. I also know that I don't know any "key" or "truth" or "one true" thing other than kindness and compassion and loving each of them that made me happy.
I am no guru. I suppose my "truth" last night was just that I loved my friends and they made me happy. This entire month has been me finding balance in self-care, loving myself and others, releasing guilt, non-useful patters (like being overly-critical to myself and others without praise or loving words), and realizing that everyone of us is human and doing our best.
Last night something happened for me. I stopped. I stopped and looked around.
I took it in. I was happy. I didn't worry about money. I didn't worry about my career. I didn't worry about my health. I just sat there surrounded by people I truly love.
Why? Because one week and one day ago one of my very best friends died. She died from complications of stage IV rectal cancer. We all thought she had gone into remission. But even so - she kept being tired and was "too tired" for visitors. We thought it was from chemo. We thought it was fatigue. I wanted to visit her earlier on a quick weekend road trip when I had the energy but she wasn't up for it. I insisted that I didn't need entertained - that I UNDERSTOOD fatigue more than most people. But she wasn't "up" for visitors. I get it when people say they aren't up for it... it means she wasn't showering much and was probably eating whatever she could scrape together. Again - I pointed out to this friend how VERY WELL I could understand it and that if I was up for a trip I was also up for tidying her house or doing dishes etc ignoring the rest AND doing laundry or getting her groceries or making her meals... and how very well I could cope with someone not able to get around because I often cannot.
I called a second friend who had just had knee surgery and no one to take care of her -- she was embarrassed about much the same things. Her house was a mess and she was lethargic and tired and "not up" for visitors. She also insisted she wasn't up for it. I didn't visit her either. She didn't die a week ago. She's still alive. (I'm still angry that I let TWO friends deny me visits during this time). Seriously. If it isn't a special weekend you've planned with lots of sex and snuggling and you need PRIVATE TIME - I don't want to hear it.
I tried to visit both of them. I know more than most how difficult it is to be both a patient and a caretaker. And I know how hard it is to let people see us when we are not our best. I know how hard it is to let people do things for us and love us and see our homes and lives when undone chores pile up or we aren't happy, chipper, or haven't showered etc.
Anyway- back to yesterday -- I have been mourning my friend who is dead. I have been grieving for her partner who is so sad because there is so very little we can do for him. And I have been grieving for myself - because I don't feel well and because I have been feeling so unhappy in my own life.
And then yesterday I watched one friend cry about her job and career. She is a beautiful amazing successful woman. She really is. And she was unhappy and frustrated because she isn't where she WANTS to be. And then another friend cried because our small group was talking about death and spirituality and afterlife beliefs. She was just triggered by the talk and cried about not knowing what to believe. And that made me smile... because not knowing what to believe is so human. Another friend spent half an hour "intellectualizing" his fears of afterlife by reading what every major religion believes about the afterlife and death. We watched a movie. Some people ate ice cream. Some people drank. Some people played a board game. And I realized I didn't cry. I was too happy and fulfilled in the moment. THIS is life.
I'm sad. I'm grieving. I will cry again and again. But last night I was completely happy watching everyone else feel frustrated and lost and upset in our humanity. And I realized that fear of death was almost bigger than death itself. Because my friend is gone but those of us who love her are the people left to cope with it and grieve. My friend who is dead doesn't have to deal with it anymore.
In some small way- the process and meaning of death is even for the living. So I can comfort her partner and mourn for myself. But I am also reminded that life - and living - and loving the people I love is what matters TO ME.
And mostly what struck me last night: Every single person in the room was in some way unhappy and in some small way happy. And there was no "universal" factor or step or thing about them to find what made them happy or unhappy. And I know for me I was very sad and grieving yesterday and yet took great joy in my friends and in being around them was truly happy in their friendship. So much so I forgot my own things for a short time. I also know that I don't know any "key" or "truth" or "one true" thing other than kindness and compassion and loving each of them that made me happy.
I am no guru. I suppose my "truth" last night was just that I loved my friends and they made me happy. This entire month has been me finding balance in self-care, loving myself and others, releasing guilt, non-useful patters (like being overly-critical to myself and others without praise or loving words), and realizing that everyone of us is human and doing our best.
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
A Series of Caffiene Induced Rants
This is just a rant. I've left two of my drugs at the pharmacy this month. I needed to write about it because TELLING how I feel seems like the only action I have left. I'm doing everything I can do - my very best - to get as healthy as I can and locate a job where I can both afford my medications and get off of a few of them.
Just yesterday and today I have been denied for several forms of "Patient Assistance" from various companies. It makes me angry because I have paid most of my income either to insurance or to directly benefit for profit drug companies... AND they usually don't put their money into research but use research from gov't or universities then swoop in and market it and make profits from the public -- from suckers like me who actually need and use their drugs and have very little choice.
It is hard for me to decide which medications I'm on are truly medically necessary and which ones are frivolous. It is hard to keep going when I have $11 in my checking account and have spent - to date from January to today - over $7700 just on my copays and out of pocket money for drugs alone... I'm not including what I've spent on my doctors or hospital bills - or the bills from them which keep rolling in - and which I try to pay $5 or $10 for each month.
I don't know what to do right now. I find it ironic that one of the "Patient Assistance" I *was* given is for a drug that I truly don't need for staying alive, but which contributes to my quality of life. It helps me focus when I get dumb and dull from taking my anti-seizure meds. Meanwhile -- I was denied help for two expensive drugs which I truly need to stay alive. I have no idea why other than many other people need them and applied first.
(Ironically- when I visited my new neurologist in Ohio- she had never heard of either the quality of life medication or using such medications for that purpose. - It made me nervous about her because I need a neuro who understands me and who is willing to see with new eyes....) And -if I want to continue the medication, I will need to continue to see my expensive neuro in Atlanta -- whom I love, but also who seems to have a better feel for experimenting with drugs... and will seek alternatives until we get the right combination... For example, he will tell people to take baby aspirin, B complex and magnesium to help with migraines. It's pretty nifty. He seems not just to be a pharm whore, but to stay abreast of both current drug uses AND believe patients and other doctors when they tell him what works (even OTC or off label uses). He will not, however, arse himself to push for an insurance over ride - something I've seen with my rheum as well.
[DIFFERENT RANT]
When insurance companies say no to a procedure or drug several of my doctors just accept it or tell the me to do something about it - like complain to the insurance or the job to change providors. THIS is problematic because DOCTORS also need to be a part of making a change in how insurance is crushing us all with their petty rules and for profit systems... We are truly all in this together. Patients, providers, to change the intersections of various for profit systems. [END THAT RANT]
Meanwhile -- I've got a week until I run out of two of my "necessary" meds. I'm trying to decide what to do -- either find a different generic or switch meds or decide how much I NEED some of my meds. I've tried one of my anti-seizures in generic twice and both times I had break through seizures... I'm wondering if I should just switch all together to a different medication. When we tried upping the dose to a higher type I had kidney issues... It was this preposterous annoyance.
I hate begging my insurance to understand. I hate paying out of pocket HUNDREDS of dollars to avoid having seizures. And then I hate not having enough money for the rest of my medication.
SOME people have said, "Do you qualify for medicaid?" Or, "Maybe you can get charity help." They say it so innocently. And I truly appreciate them and their suggestions. Meanwhile - I worked my entire life. Over the years I have made too much, even as a student, to qualify for such help. Most government agencies do not look at the finer issues, such as how much patients SPEND on their healthcare. They look at concrete numbers, such as how much a patient has EARNED. Even though, one year I was less than a hundred dollars above poverty level, they did not care. They simply said, "You can always go to a food shelter. To which I relied, I do not NEED FOOD, I need to purchase my prescriptions and pay my doctors and hospital bills.
[INSERT IDEA - PROBABLY NOT THE BEST - BUT BUT I'M ON CAFFEINE AND I'M FEELING LIKE SHIT AND NOTHING ELSE WORKS AND BECAUSE IN MY HEART I'M A SOCIOLOGIST WHO DREAMS IN IDEALISM AND LIVES AND WORKS IN THE REALITY OF AINT NEVER GONNA HAPPEN IN THIS COUNTRY]
Maybe instead of charities and begging it would be nice if people who have worked their entire lives could just afford medication. What would happen if we had insurance that was not for profit? What would happen if medications that worked and were well understood (medicine is, afterall an art, and patients are not fill in the blank categories, but are made up by both their medical and their social needs), were used in an equitable manner in a system where people were not valued on their economic contribution but because they were human? What would happen if people contributed a percentage towards their healthcare and education based on this belief of deserving humanity rather than on a profit system. And what would happen if people could pay themselves - like a mother or father could either stay home with their children or hire a nanny or daycare provider based on this belief? And so this "tax" could be a paycheck directly paid to themselves OR used to hire care for their children and when their children were old enough used to pay for school.
Similar notions for healthcare. People could pay themselves for care - or they could pay a doctor and hospital... Rather than think of it as a 30 or 40% tax- this is simply paying oneself for care. Everyone is paying an equal percentage of what they make.
Rather than a "poverty level" what would happen if we had a true living wage? What would happen if people lived according to what it truly takes to live and care for ourselves. What would happen if the most highly paid person in any corporation or institution made within 6-7 times the lowest paid person? What would happen if we didn't have as many "ghettos" or housing sratified by wealth and separation - but just different living areas connected perhaps to culture, but not to poverty or extreme wealth? What would happen if we valued people not on their economic status, but on their willingness to work? And when people were unable to work due to illness or age or limitation, we made space for other forms of productivity and contribution? What if we reconsidered what work is - and made former kinds of "unpaid labor" a valuable and possibly compensated kind of work. (ie- instead of social security or house wife- what if it were just another way to be paid?)
What would happen if state universities became free to students who agreed to a period of service (with pay-but more in line with an internship) according to regional need to pay back the cost of the education? This would reduce the hardship of repaying student loans for anyone who chose a public education. People who desired a private education could do so with or without loans as they wished. There are many regional and high needs and underserved populations (such as medical centers, hospitals, psychiatric units, schools) where people with free state educations of various degrees could serve.
What would happen if the infrastructure of our current system were reconfigured not only to truly serve our people, but to care for the future generations and environment? This was my rant. I'm huffy because I had to leave medication at my pharmacy.
Just yesterday and today I have been denied for several forms of "Patient Assistance" from various companies. It makes me angry because I have paid most of my income either to insurance or to directly benefit for profit drug companies... AND they usually don't put their money into research but use research from gov't or universities then swoop in and market it and make profits from the public -- from suckers like me who actually need and use their drugs and have very little choice.
It is hard for me to decide which medications I'm on are truly medically necessary and which ones are frivolous. It is hard to keep going when I have $11 in my checking account and have spent - to date from January to today - over $7700 just on my copays and out of pocket money for drugs alone... I'm not including what I've spent on my doctors or hospital bills - or the bills from them which keep rolling in - and which I try to pay $5 or $10 for each month.
I don't know what to do right now. I find it ironic that one of the "Patient Assistance" I *was* given is for a drug that I truly don't need for staying alive, but which contributes to my quality of life. It helps me focus when I get dumb and dull from taking my anti-seizure meds. Meanwhile -- I was denied help for two expensive drugs which I truly need to stay alive. I have no idea why other than many other people need them and applied first.
(Ironically- when I visited my new neurologist in Ohio- she had never heard of either the quality of life medication or using such medications for that purpose. - It made me nervous about her because I need a neuro who understands me and who is willing to see with new eyes....) And -if I want to continue the medication, I will need to continue to see my expensive neuro in Atlanta -- whom I love, but also who seems to have a better feel for experimenting with drugs... and will seek alternatives until we get the right combination... For example, he will tell people to take baby aspirin, B complex and magnesium to help with migraines. It's pretty nifty. He seems not just to be a pharm whore, but to stay abreast of both current drug uses AND believe patients and other doctors when they tell him what works (even OTC or off label uses). He will not, however, arse himself to push for an insurance over ride - something I've seen with my rheum as well.
[DIFFERENT RANT]
When insurance companies say no to a procedure or drug several of my doctors just accept it or tell the me to do something about it - like complain to the insurance or the job to change providors. THIS is problematic because DOCTORS also need to be a part of making a change in how insurance is crushing us all with their petty rules and for profit systems... We are truly all in this together. Patients, providers, to change the intersections of various for profit systems. [END THAT RANT]
Meanwhile -- I've got a week until I run out of two of my "necessary" meds. I'm trying to decide what to do -- either find a different generic or switch meds or decide how much I NEED some of my meds. I've tried one of my anti-seizures in generic twice and both times I had break through seizures... I'm wondering if I should just switch all together to a different medication. When we tried upping the dose to a higher type I had kidney issues... It was this preposterous annoyance.
I hate begging my insurance to understand. I hate paying out of pocket HUNDREDS of dollars to avoid having seizures. And then I hate not having enough money for the rest of my medication.
SOME people have said, "Do you qualify for medicaid?" Or, "Maybe you can get charity help." They say it so innocently. And I truly appreciate them and their suggestions. Meanwhile - I worked my entire life. Over the years I have made too much, even as a student, to qualify for such help. Most government agencies do not look at the finer issues, such as how much patients SPEND on their healthcare. They look at concrete numbers, such as how much a patient has EARNED. Even though, one year I was less than a hundred dollars above poverty level, they did not care. They simply said, "You can always go to a food shelter. To which I relied, I do not NEED FOOD, I need to purchase my prescriptions and pay my doctors and hospital bills.
[INSERT IDEA - PROBABLY NOT THE BEST - BUT BUT I'M ON CAFFEINE AND I'M FEELING LIKE SHIT AND NOTHING ELSE WORKS AND BECAUSE IN MY HEART I'M A SOCIOLOGIST WHO DREAMS IN IDEALISM AND LIVES AND WORKS IN THE REALITY OF AINT NEVER GONNA HAPPEN IN THIS COUNTRY]
Maybe instead of charities and begging it would be nice if people who have worked their entire lives could just afford medication. What would happen if we had insurance that was not for profit? What would happen if medications that worked and were well understood (medicine is, afterall an art, and patients are not fill in the blank categories, but are made up by both their medical and their social needs), were used in an equitable manner in a system where people were not valued on their economic contribution but because they were human? What would happen if people contributed a percentage towards their healthcare and education based on this belief of deserving humanity rather than on a profit system. And what would happen if people could pay themselves - like a mother or father could either stay home with their children or hire a nanny or daycare provider based on this belief? And so this "tax" could be a paycheck directly paid to themselves OR used to hire care for their children and when their children were old enough used to pay for school.
Similar notions for healthcare. People could pay themselves for care - or they could pay a doctor and hospital... Rather than think of it as a 30 or 40% tax- this is simply paying oneself for care. Everyone is paying an equal percentage of what they make.
Rather than a "poverty level" what would happen if we had a true living wage? What would happen if people lived according to what it truly takes to live and care for ourselves. What would happen if the most highly paid person in any corporation or institution made within 6-7 times the lowest paid person? What would happen if we didn't have as many "ghettos" or housing sratified by wealth and separation - but just different living areas connected perhaps to culture, but not to poverty or extreme wealth? What would happen if we valued people not on their economic status, but on their willingness to work? And when people were unable to work due to illness or age or limitation, we made space for other forms of productivity and contribution? What if we reconsidered what work is - and made former kinds of "unpaid labor" a valuable and possibly compensated kind of work. (ie- instead of social security or house wife- what if it were just another way to be paid?)
What would happen if state universities became free to students who agreed to a period of service (with pay-but more in line with an internship) according to regional need to pay back the cost of the education? This would reduce the hardship of repaying student loans for anyone who chose a public education. People who desired a private education could do so with or without loans as they wished. There are many regional and high needs and underserved populations (such as medical centers, hospitals, psychiatric units, schools) where people with free state educations of various degrees could serve.
What would happen if the infrastructure of our current system were reconfigured not only to truly serve our people, but to care for the future generations and environment? This was my rant. I'm huffy because I had to leave medication at my pharmacy.
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