The Flood and holding it at Bay

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How does one encapsulate the feelings when they’re already overflowing the cup you have for them to begin with? They’re overwhelming me like a home in a flood and there’s no simple way to contain the damage. It’s like I have to lay out sandbags 4 feet deep around the threshold and cross my fingers.  The probability that it will flood over my walls is good. I’m holding on though and pushing through the rain in some semblance of organization.

My sandbags include regular therapy, meetings, talking to people, friends visiting from in and out of town and eating bread pudding from Whole Foods. All of these things hold the onslaught at bay but it doesn’t change the fact that I feel trapped inside and the storm is still storming and the sand bags won’t last forever. Eventually something will have to give—the storm or me. I’d prefer it to be the storm but time will tell.

I’ve been through rougher storms than this and ones where the flood nearly destroyed the house and what was left looked like tatters. And knowing this helps with perspective but does nothing to ease the stable level of anxiety I have on a consistent basis these days. It does nothing to quell the thunderous fears I have about the future or how I at unease I feel in my own skin. But it does offer perspective—I’ve weathered worse and came out ok on the other side.  There’s an ounce of hope for ya.

Long metaphors and analogies for life aside, I can honestly say I’m just scared. My body has been through hell over the last month and now sick with a cold I just want to throw my hands up in the air. Can I just feel better already? I mean seriously. It’s the worst. Beyond all that between the miscarriage and ectopic pregnancy there comes a host of emotions and add onto that an emergency surgery and meds that don’t let you feel and I’m left feeling stuff and processing emotions from weeks ago. I’m behind on my own emotional processing for heaven’s sake! 

One of the women who messaged me a few weeks ago said that miscarriage is “a unique and confusing pain” and I would have to agree. Not only that, it’s a pain that happens to a lot of women and none of them talk about it publicly. Like if we keep it hushed in the public mind then perhaps then it won’t exist. But it does exist and it sucks and it’s painful and it can have complications and frustrations and fears. I mean, really, what does one do with that type of grief? You’re grieving a thing that didn’t even quite happen and thing that isn’t even a person but should feel like a person but its not because it died. It’s fucking strange and no one talks about it.

And I suppose that is where the flood really comes from—a strange pain that I don’t fully understand.  And now as I wrap up this little diddy I realize the rains seem a little lighter and storm doesn’t seem so overwhelming. It’ll pass and it will get better. Everything changes. So for now I wake up and put my clothes on and go to work and come home and eat and go to meeting and feed my dog and love my fiance and do all the things I'm meant to do and wait for the rain to slow to a drizzle.

When you know less today then you knew yesterday

Lets get a few things strait. I believe a lot of things. But I believe less than I did a year ago. Even less than I did two years ago. Perhaps this is growth—the realization that I know less of belief than I did when I could read greek and Hebrew (relatively) fluently is... well, it's ironic. Annoying even. Death has a funny way of changing people and my ideas of faith and truth and have been molded by the pain of loss. It has also been molded by the joy of growth into a new relationship. Regardless, it has changed.

Though I’m not exactly sure how I believe or what I believe or how God moves I do know a few things that I cannot stomach. There a few quaint lines that I’ve heard throughout the last few months and years that make me cringe. Philosophically they do not mesh with what little understanding of the creator and how She operates in my life.

For example: 

“There is a void to fill” or “I just want to fill the void” – I don’t believe the ultimate creator would make me unwhole. I believe I am made in Her image and Her image is perfection. I believe the void is a falsity that my mind has created in order that I might fill it. But because it is mirage it doesn’t matter how much I use to try and fill it—sex, drugs, food or money--  it will never ever be full because it isn’t there to begin with. I have nothing to fill. I do not have to fill it with anything, including God because it isn’t there. If I attempt to fill the void with God it won’t work either. Crazy thought yes? There is no void (alternatively... there is no spoon). 

So why, in all the world would my mind create a void? Why, if created in the image of perfection would my mind cave in on itself and try to self destruct with a void and that can never be filled? Because I am imperfect and flawed and broken and my mind tries to rationalize this separation from my creator with emptiness. But I am not separated and I am not empty. My distance from God is only as far as I perceive it. The moment I fully grasp the lie that is the void is the moment I am fully in presence of God. The presence is quite good. Like a sweet man fresh out of the shower good.  Yea… that good.

Another one is: 

“Everything happens for a reason” – Instead I believe that there are reason why things happen. I do not.. or perhaps will not believe in a God who purposefully has a plan instilled in pain, petulance and pride. For example, I do not believe cancer is in the divine plan. I do not believe murder happens for a “reason” or to “teach us” or to do anything else. He is not so infantile. I believe that perhaps those are consequences of action. But it is not why the action happened. I cannot believe in a God that would purposefully plan addiction, depravity and death as some sort of twisted love. Does He allow it? Sure. Did he want that or even plan it? Not for me. For you maybe? Perhaps. But no, no not for me.

“It’ll be ok” – quintessential comfort giving words. “Don’t worry honey, it’ll be ok.” Well, actually, no it won’t ever be ok. It really won’t and that’s alright. Can we, as a people, just accept that sometimes things won’t ever be ok? Must we convince ourselves that one day we’ll look back and it will be ok that we were molested or fucked up at one point? Quite frankly I’m a realist. I’m ok with the fact that some things will just never be ok. This reality is actually comforting. Its ok to not be ok. It doesn’t mean that it will hurt forever… the pain of the world always passes but just because it doesn’t hurt doesn’t mean it was ever ok. Just because the pain of it passes doesn't mean it will ever be ok.

“He’s in a better place now.” – I mean, how the hell do you know? I believe that heaven and hell are very real places. I have experienced them on earth so I have no reason to doubt that they exist after earth as well. I believe the presences of ourselves in these places after death is not for me to understand. God is wise and good and true and She alone knows the process of how and where we go. I neither believe it’s as simple as the works we do nor the “wham bam thank you ma’am” process of southern salvation but on the flip side of the token I won’t think myself smart enough to know where the threshold of that line is.

There is a very real possibility that whoever it is has not reached a better place. I won’t use the trivialities of culture to make you feel better. A realist as ever I just don’t think we all reach the threshold of heaven. I’ve become accepting of this and I think it’s a good thing. Keeps me honest.

There are other things I've heard that I don't agree with that would take too much time. I don't believe, for example, that death is natural. I do not believe it to be necessary but merely a result of our own choices. It would be a blog in and of itself. Along with the idea that there's just one man or woman for each of us or that we have "soul partners" that were destined instead of chosen. I don't like the idea of a practical God or one that is defines by gender roles (I'm sure you've noticed the mixture of He and She). I don't like the idea that any one religion, denomination or ever myself have the ball in our hands on truth. This is complicated because many of my friends think they KNOW truth. I have to work through my own judgements on this... I suppose it would be lovely to know that I have the truth and it will never change again and everything is explained. For today though that alludes me.

A Moment set to Music

Looking at the world with music blasting in headphones is completely different that being in reality. You see a worker laugh and smile at the café you sit in and an older woman across the room looks worried and talks with earnest to her friends. Managers seem cocky and slightly rude, customers are either hurried or linger with no seeming in between. I wonder if they are happy or even mildly content with what the world has given them.

A little girl stares at my tattoos. I stick out my tongue at her while her mother isn’t looking and she ducks behind mom’s arms. I look away when her mom looks back at me. Every now and then at 28 I must act like I’m four. It is necessary for life. As I look back to my computer screen to avoid a mother’s stare I wonder if that little girl has a fighting chance. Does her mother protect her from evil looking tattooed women who stick their tongues out at their children? Does she protect more than that? Does she have the emotional bandwidth to give that little girl what she needs? I hope so.  They get up to go.. the girl turns around and sticks her tongue out at me. I smile. Well played little one. Well played.

The notes hit my ears as I see the world around me float by as if on beat. It’s Friday and there’s an air of ease. Labor day weekend is upon us and the light hearted feel of the majority of patrons is evident. The workers seem slightly bored if not in good spirits and the rooms I sit in slowly empties. I am quite alone with my music and my oatmeal cookies and tea.  It is a pleasant place to be. I sit in it. Slightly chilled by the air conditioning. I curse myself for leaving my jacket in the car as I get distracted by another bite of oatmeal cookie. 

Should = Guilt: Therapy Truth

Should equals guilt. A truth spoken by my current therapist (therapy is my homedog). I SHOULD go to a meeting. I SHOULD get to work on time. I SHOULD spend time with my family. I SHOULD make dinner. I SHOULD’VE handled that better. Why? Why should I? Because someone else wants me to do things? Because I don’t want to do those things and I do them anyway?  So I rephrase myself:

I NEED to go to a meeting.

I DO get to work on time because I appreciate my employment.

I DON’T HAVE to spend time with anyone, including family.

I CAN make dinner but I don’t have to.

I DID handle that situation with the best of my ability, though that ability probably needs some work.

But so often I should on myself. Allowing the guilt of what I think people expect of me to permeate my existence. If I am true to myself and act on what I know is healthy for me I usually end the day in a state that isn’t nearly as gross. This doesn’t mean I don’t get in service and I don’t do things I don’t always want to do. It just means I do the things I don’t want to do not because I SHOULD but because doing it helps me grow.

I allow culture and common expectations of society to get to me sometimes. This is why I rebel against it. This is why I despise Christmas. Obligatory gift giving makes me anxious and familial expectations make me want to hide in the fetal position. This is also why birthdays, gift giving occasions and writing thank you cards are almost completely absent from my day to day life. Its not because I don’t care about the people around me—its because I care about my own belief system more. This can be taken to an extreme.. I’m working on it. But for now I’m content with their absence.

For the moment I’m attempting to take the word “should” out of my vocabulary. And if I do use it I double check why. Why is that necessary? Why SHOULD I do that? How can I rephrase it to take the guilt factor out? How can I rise above it?

Enough about me though… the problem with should is that I often place it on other people. “Well, he should take me out on a date cause I’m super cool” or “they should totally get over themselves” or my favorite “that person should stop acting like that—they look like an idiot”.  The guilt factor goes both ways. Why do I think I’m important enough to take the should out of the equation but the people around me are still subject to it?

So I’ve taken steps to take should out of my belief system, not just for myself, but for the people around me. I'm still pretty sucky at it though, besides who am I to judge? Who am I to think that just because their actions affect me THEY SHOULD change it? Bullshit. Sometimes to take should out of the equation though, drastic steps have to be taken. Sometimes I have to separate myself from people, sometimes I have to limit interactions and other times I have to invest myself further in their life and be uncomfortable for a while. Sometimes taking should out of a relationship with other people is harder than keeping the should out of the relationship with myself. 

Regardless of how hard it is though it needs to be done. Should leads to resentments and broken relationships. It causes me to go deeper into myself instead of deeper into a spiritual understanding. It leads to judgements and isolation. So I'm going to persist in it. Run with it.

I’m a work in progress I suppose. Broken, imperfect and beautiful and lovely.

A Year Ago Today

A year ago today I was boarded and several hours into a 12 hour flight that would take me to Thailand. God.. was it a year ago already? I was in the midst of upheaval and fear and hope and thought I knew what the next year of my life was going to look like. I was in the midst of change and self discovery. I was in the beginning of finding out exactly what i was capable of... and I was capable of great things.

Thailand wasn't easy for me. I was sick a lot and the stress of a new environment, a failed relationship and a new way of living recovery were all playing heavily on me. But they were good and I was getting through them. I cried a lot and meditated at pagodas more. I stood on top of mountains over looking vast rice paddies and prayed with monks. I voiced frustrations and anger at the local thai officials while battling bathroom disasters at my home in the countryside of North Thailand. I played with kids at the children's home and learned how to communicate my needs at the organization I worked for. Warm Heart provided much more than a volunteer opportunity-- they provided me a life opportunity.

Funny how I look back now and realize that my short time there ended up being an experience that probably helped me more than I helped anyone there. Life can be funny that way. On October 3... in a flurry of emotions and fear I flew home to be with my family. My brother was sick. That day was pivotal-- with the help of the girls volunteering with me my stuff was packed, my ticket purchased and I was on my way. Those two girls will forever be imbedded in my mind-- they made one of the worst days of my life easier. I was not alone. I tearfully told my friend Divya goodbye--  she was on holiday in South Thailand. And in a few short hours I boarded my flight to Georgia to circle the wagons and show up where I was needed most: home.

But back to a year ago today. A year ago today I was a recent college graduate with dreams of changing the world. I pined for a decent relationship just as another failed attempt crumbled in front of me. I had a sponsor 13000 miles away and I had no sponcees. My credit was shot, all I had were funds I raised to go over seas and all I owned in the world fit into two suitcases and three plastic tubs which were in my best friend's attic in Pennsylvania. I'd sold my car to raise money, given away 60% of my stuff and was invested in doing something different.

A year later. I now work in a field completely opposite of my degree and have no real desire to pursue my masters (this after getting into Princeton and Emory for grad school). I only desire to create great change in myself. I am in the most amazing relationship-- he is the kind of man I'd always hoped I could attract and am forever grateful I have. My sponsor live two miles down the street and I have 8 sponcees.. 6 of which call me on a regular basis. I have money in a savings account, work full time and while I have yet to buy a car-- I will be a homeowner in one week's time. One. Week's. Time. What I own could not fit in those suitcases and my dog, Todd, has warmed my heart. I lost my brother and yet, in the last year I have found my life. The mercy in it all still overwhelms me.

I will not pretend to know where I will be a year from now. What I do know is that if I am even half as happy as I am right this moment it will be a good year. A very good year indeed.

Longing For Home

I can be overwhelmed with the simplicity of my life. Perhaps this is because just a short time ago my life was so complicated. I think back to school—working, class, homework, meetings, chapel, peer listeners, active minds and stepwork plus a social life and trying to date and attempting to remain “balanced”. I laugh at that concept now. Balance had nothing to do with it. But it was mine and it was beautiful for a time.

Going back to philly, Bryn Athyn and Quakertown has me in a reminiscent mood. Seeing some old faces and missing out on others, reconnecting with those I wish I’d had near me during my grieving process and learning where everyone was in their life… it was beautiful and hectic. Taking the boyfriend with me and learning how to travel as a pair (the first time I’ve done that with anyone since 2001) had its own challenges too. Overall though it was exactly what it needed to be. It was pleasant and emotional and it had me longing for home.

Longing for Home. Such a weird statement. The entire time I was in Philadelphia I kept having weird moments where I didn’t know if I was in GA or PA. I’ve never visited the state of PA. I’ve always just lived there. I would turn on the news and they’d be talking about the crime wave or some other nonsense and I’d think to myself Why is Atlanta playing news about Philadelphia. Wrapping my head around the fact that I was visiting a place I’ve known as home was actually difficult. And yet, by the end of the trip I was longing for humid and hot Hall County, GA.

Home has a way of shifting for me I suppose. It always has. But it’s so wonderful to know that I missed this place. I missed the weather and my cute little old trailer by the lake and my fat cat and my nice little office where I work at my nice wonderful job. Going into work today was a relief. Back to my schedule, back to my normal, back to simplicity. My days are no longer packed in thirty minute increments like they were in college. They are planned in long swaths of time full of work, puzzling, reading and writing. There are meetings and time with Tate and sponcees and stepwork but compared to the times past my life today is a vacation.

A wise dude told me that it’s good to rest but to be careful that I not become complacent. He’s right and I know it. Driving home tonight I realize that Georgia may be home but I still miss preaching. I realize that my heart is still in communicating the ancient words in a way that the modern kid can understand the framework of a spiritual path that can seem complicated but is rather easy. It would be nice to fill that niche somewhere. Just for today, I keep my simplicity but look for ways to expand within it. I do not have to save the world-- but if the opportunity rises I won't turn it down.

The Art of Sitting Still

Sitting still has never been my specialty. I have lived in seven states (a few of them at two different times) and a foreign country. I’ve lived in as many houses as I am years in age (if not more) and I embraced my nomadic lifestyle. Whats more I’m not good at NOT doing things. I got really motivated when I got clean to DO things. So I’ve done things… a lot of them. I started a few programs at school, ran chapel wrote a 45 page senior paper and worked a few jobs—all at the same time. Then I raised money to volunteer and went to Thailand—three times. And on and on and on the list goes.

Not only have I never sat still I’ve never been able to just enjoy the life I have. I’ve always needed something more or bigger. The “ok, that was cool… what’s next?!” idea has always been pretty prevalent in my life. I get one thing that I’ve just always wanted (ie a boyfriend, a new car, a new place to live) and then I hang out with my new toy for a few weeks and then I’m ready for something different or just bigger and better. For (hypothetical) example, I get the boyfriend I’ve always wanted and its merely a few months in and I’m thinking when are we gonna get married already?! Like, seriously, lets get a move on people! I’ve got things to do and places to explore and cooler more interesting relationships to establish. Sheesh.

I think I forget that once I get something the art is not in the moving forward. The art is in the sitting still. It is a skill I’ve yet to master and I desperately want too. It can be painful never being able to rest but always feeling the need to keep “moving forward”. Like life has some destination and when I get all the stuff I’m supposed to have then I will have arrived at it.

I want to just enjoy my day without having to worry about what next big goal I need to accomplish or what new obstacle I need to complete. It’s so very very exhausting.

So with that I’ve decided that after buying a car (which will be happening relatively soon) there will be no more big decisions for the next 6 months. Life changing choices, major emotional upheavals and monetary decisions are done. I am giving myself a break. I’m giving myself a hiatus from living such a heavy lifestyle with decisions and major moving parts. Just for today I’m allowing myself a vacation. A rest. I’m learning how to enjoy what I have without making a change to it. Just for today.