Removing the Stigma

"The statistics on sanity are that one out of every four Americans is suffering from some form of mental illness.  Think of your three best friends.  If they're okay, then it's you."  --Rita Mae Brown

 

So my post the other day has gotten me thinking.  And then there was the post that quickly went viral on Facebook entitled "I Am Adam Lanza's Mother."  I shared it and got a lot of positive feedback (and some controversy).  It also has gotten a lot of attention in the media.  What struck me about this post was not the shocking value of it--I can actually see some of that in my own experience.  It is just how honestly and vulnerably she shared it.  She spoke up when most people stay quiet about a topic that is still taboo. 

After a long walk on the beach yesterday, I decided I want to do my little part to make mental illness such a taboo.  I want us to start talking about it.  I want it to come out into the open as that is the only way that we can really affect change.  I've "come out" about my sexual orientation--I think it's time that more of us "come out" about our experiences with mental illness.  Until we do, it is just another part of us that is held back from living wholly and authentically. 

So here's what I'd like to ask of you:

• In your comments below or in an e-mail message directly to me, send me a story of mental illness that has affected you.  You can include what you've told people before or what you've never shared.  You can tell how it impacted you or how keeping it a secreted impacted you or your family--anything you think is relevant is welcome. 

I'll pull them together and anonymously share them, if you give me permission.  Now, I know I don't have tons of readers, but I think there are enough of you to have a story or two.  I'll share some of mine too.  Please help me. 

Caveat:  It has been hypothesized, but it has NOT been firmly established that Adam Lanza had mental illness.  It is just that, in my mind, I just can't justify this kind of carnage without it.  If it is not, then I'm going to have to have some real introspective discussions about the nature of evil. 

Into Each Life Some Rain Must Fall

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary

It rains, and the wind is never weary;

The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,

But at every gust the dead leaves fall,

And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;

It rains, and the wind is never weary;

My thoughts still cling to the mouldering past,

But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,

And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;

Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;

Thy fate is the common fate of all,

Into each life some rain must fall,

Some days must be dark and dreary.

(Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 1807 - 1882)

It's been a month and 10 days since I last posted.  Yes, a lot has been going on, but I miss writing in this blog.  Since then, a few of my friends have started blogging--they said I inspired them; in turn, they're inspiring me to pick it up again. 

Today, 20 perfect children were killed in Connecticut.  There are no words to express the feelings that people are having about this.  Myself, I couldn't turn off the news this evening.  Possibly, I was hoping for some kind of news update telling me this was all a mistake and this didn't really happen. 

I've been through the gamut of reactions:

• My first one was "again?" with exasperation with people in our country after three of these open area killings in such a short time.
• Then I am embarrassed to say that I was somewhat numb.  I think I just couldn't go there emotionally.  But I knew I was feeling it because my stomach was upset. 
• Then I watched the news and was overwhelmed by the whole situation.
• And then I watched our president break down and I hit me as a parent as well.  I cried.

I've been hugging Kyle so much this evening.  I'd be clinging to Eric too if he were here (and if he'd let me).  I have been sending him mushy texts.

There are going to be a lot of angles to this story: about the bravery of the students and teachers, about gun control and security systems, about first responders.

But here's where my mind also is.  The gunman was said to have a "personality disorder."  In my mind, it is hard to say there wasn't some mental illness involved.  His mother had said that he was distrubed and getting "out of control."  As a mother of someone now involved in the mental health system, my heart also goes out to his family.  And to him--I know that may be controversial, but I can't even imagine what kind of demons must have been in play for him to do something like that. 

And here's two facts that I know for sure.  Our mental health system is broken.  Terribly broken.  I have learned that the hard way.  And, because of the mental institutions of bygone days, there are a lot of protections for the mentally ill so that you can't FORCE anyone to get help after they are 18.  If a person doesn't want help, there is pitifully little you can do as a parent or loved one.  I am very aware that my child is 15 and I have three years to get him in a good place.  And I'm grateful beyond belief for those years. 

I am saying prayers tonight--for the victims and their families, for all the people who saw or experienced the horror of the day, for the town of Newton, and for the family of Adam and Nancy Lanza.  And for families everywhere who are struggling this holiday season. 

I'm Not The Only One

“Maybe what we say to each other is not so important after all, but just that we are alive together, and present for each other as best we can be.”  ~Anne Lamott

I had lunch with a good friend today.  This is a friend who brought me dinner the first night I was in the Treehouse and who, unfortunately, I haven't seen since.  It was so wonderful catching up with her over brunch.  I had to fill her in on what has happened in those two short months though, with Dan's suicide, Eric's diagnosis, medication, Virtual School, and all the other details that have just made me feel like I'm in a permanent state of overwhelmed. 

But I also got to hear from her.  Her partner's grandson is going to need surgery out of the state.  Their granddaughter is struggling with issues at home and their daughter may lose her house.  It was a good reminder to me that I'm not the only person with shit going on.  And, that I still have much to be grateful about. 

I think what I've been wanting and needing for a few weeks now is for someone to say--"DAMN, Christine, you've been through a lot the last year and a half.  And you're really been through a lot this last year.  And wow, these last few months have really been a bitch."  It is that outside validation that I'm looking for--that I'm not going insane and that this stuff is real and has been intense (there's a part of me that just believes that it is just a bad Lifetime movie).  And I've had friends who have said exactly that, although somehow, it still hasn't filled the hole of me needing to hear it. 

No, the issues won't go away by someone acknowledging them.  And sometimes I can't just find for something that will make me feel better about them.  At the end of the day, I lean on my friends, I remember just HOW MUCH I have to be grateful for (and it is a lot) and I keep moving on. 

And I remember that I'm not the only one. 

Entering into a New World

There are moments when you stand on the brink of a new experience and understand that you have no choice about it. Either you walk into the experience or you turn away from it, but you know that no matter what you choose, you will have altered your life in a permanent way. Either way, there will be consequences.  --Dennis Covington, 1948 -

So it has been way too long since I wrote my last blog post.  While I keep waiting for calm and boring to kick in (any day now, I swear), life has decided that we all need more growing.

About a month ago, Eric was diagnosed with Bipolar disorder.  I am very loathe to give medication to kids, but over the last several months, we had thought that he may need an anti-depressant based on his behavior.  What we found was that it was much more severe than that and now we've been dragged into the complex world of Bipolar.  I could go through the whole crazy month or I could just give you the headlines:

• There are two different types of bipolar--he has bipolar 2, which is marked by depression and then extreme agitation rather than the typical manic episodes that we hear about. 
• It's all about the medication, stupid.  Our lives are scheduled around dosages and appointments are all about combinations and side effects and mixings. 
• Medications WORK!  It's amazing to see the changes and the relief that it has given Eric.  I haven't realized how much I missed the old Eric until I got him back. 
• I have told friends that I have gotten a Master's degree in the adolescent mental health system while at the same time have severely sharpened my mother bear claws.  I have owned this process rather than having it own us.  It takes me a long time to learn, but eventually I get it.
• We've also looked at how we educate Eric.  He has said that he hates traditional school for years and we finally took heed.  He is taking just lunch and 1 class at his high school (mostly for social purposes) but then he's taking the rest of his courses online.  It is working out GREAT--although I'm also working on just my GED in figuring that out.  It has also created complications in transportation which I've been using my PhD in problem solving to manage.

Throughout all of this, Eric has just been fantastic.  He's been involved in the decisions, feeling empowered, and wanting to find solutions.  Really, I'm in awe of him sometimes.  And the more I learn about what was going on in his head, that respect increases. 

It means more chaos for us, but we will soldier on. 

I'm writing about it because I believe that we shouldn't hide in the world of mental illness.  I've been resistant to talk about it, but Eric isn't.  We are not going to let this define him--it is just an aspect of him that we have to manage. 

And, it will just give me more to talk about in my blog...  Hugs and love to all of you.

 

 

There is a time to Live and a Time to Die

There is no need to be afraid of death. It is not the end of the physical body that should worry us. Rather, our concern must be to live while we’re alive – to release our inner selves from the spiritual death that comes with living behind a façade designed to conform to external definitions of who and what we are. Every individual human being born on this earth has the capacity to become a unique and special person unlike any who has ever existed before or will ever exist again… When you live as if you’ll live forever, it becomes too easy to postpone the things you know that you must do. You live your life in preparation for tomorrow or in remembrance of yesterday, and meanwhile, each day is lost. In contrast, when you fully understand that each day you awaken could be the last you have, you take the time that day to grow, to become more of who you really are, to reach out to other human beings.

--Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, 1926 – 2004


So I still continue to be involved with our neighbors in the tragic suicide of our friend Dan.  Last night I officiated his internment.  His family had a funeral the weekend after his death.  And they were cremating his body because his parents wanted to lay him to rest in Pennsylvania and his family here wanted him in Florida.  So they split the ashes.  The boys actually wanted a plot where they could come and visit him and where it would be memorialized.  So that service happened last evening and I was the officiant.  

Yes, I was intimidated.  But then I realized that I knew exactly what to do.  This family was rushing to get the initial funeral done.  And then they've had the focus on this goodbye.  But basically, it has been five weeks of preparing to say goodbye--and just not wanting to do that.  So I knew my message needed to be about letting go. 

After some opening words (my own way of calling in the natural elements of air, fire, water and earth), I read a poem that was entitled, "Miss Me But Let Me Go."  That set the tone--and I talked about it pretty openly.  Then I  worked on the other thing that I was hoping that they could reframe.  There had been so much focus on his tragic and awful death.  But I calculated that the time of his great distress was only 1/1000th of his life.  I encouraged them to focus on how he lived and not how he died.  I ended with the Ecclesiastes poem about how there is a time for everything and I promised them that there will be a time for them to dance again.  And then we put his ashes in the ground and had everyone put flowers with their love and energy into them. 

It was difficult, but it was also very appropriate and even beautiful.  I really hope it brings some peace to the family, who are still really struggling.

So I've done a wedding, a funeral and about a dozen Sunday services.  Can this be considered on-the-job training for my next career as a minister? 

My final words from last night:

 

He is Gone by David Harkins

You can shed tears that he is gone,

Or you can smile because he lived,

You can close your eyes and pray that he will come back,

Or you can open your eyes and see all that he has left.

Your heart can be empty because you can't see him

Or you can be full of the love that you shared,

You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,

Or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.

You can remember him and only that he is gone

Or you can cherish his memory and let it live on,

You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back,

Or you can do what he would want: smile, open your eyes, love and go on

1 Step Back and 2 Steps Forward

We should not feel embarrassed by our difficulties, only by our failure to grow anything beautiful from them.   --Alain de Botton

2011 and 2012 have been a dramatic and traumatic time in our family.  While we all have struggled, my youngest son has had a very challenging last 12 months.  I'm STILL waiting for my drama-free, calm, uneventful 2012 to kick in.  There's still time, right?

I could focus on that--and dwell on the negatives in his life and how they are not over yet.  But I'm not going to.  Instead, I'm going to focus on all the great things that have happened this week for him.  I'm trying the approach of putting my energy into the places that I want more of rather than dwelling on things that I want less of (you could also look at it as another way of saying I'm putting my head in the sand, but I prefer the more enlightened version of the story).

His band is rocking!  This week alone, they've gotten band photos, got a recording date for next weekend and gotten two gigs (HS Talent Show and the 3pm slot at a Catholic Church fall festival--gotta start somewhere!). 

He worked all day yesterday (like literally 12 hours) to get through all the tests and studying and courses to get his Learner's Permit and got it this evening.  We started driving right away and he did really well.  And, while I try not to compare my children, I think teaching this one to drive will be much less stressful than teaching my elder one (he's calmer, and I've already been broken in). 

He's just doing a lot of things right.  He's cheerfully doing his chores, getting his grades higher, and just generally being more agreeable.

Without getting into details, this child has had some obstacles the last 18 months.  I'm just so glad to see him have some successes as well.  And, we'll still have challenges ahead, but I'm focusing on what is good. 

Good job, Eric!

Conflict--The Uncomfortable Gift

When we value being cool and in control over granting ourselves the freedom to unleash the passionate, goofy, heartfelt, and soulful expressions of who we are, we betray ourselves. When we consistently betray ourselves, we can expect to do the same to the people we love.  

~ Brené Brown

So it is probably time to return back to the great words of Brene Brown. 

As I've been working on myself this year, I've discovered some odd obstacles.  I've spent so long listening to everyone else--what is important to them, what they need, what they believe.  And my history is to take that in and find ways to incorporate that into what I'm doing. 

This comes up most commonly when there is conflict. I was taught early on to avoid any kind of conflict. Avoid it if possible. If not, then bend and accomodate it so that it goes away. And, accompanied with that is the charming ability that I have (sarcasm intended) to take that conflict personally--if someone disagrees, then there must be something wrong with me or I feel that they are judging me. 

I have very little practice in stopping and thinking--what do I want/believe/need/think about that situation.  I've done a better job of doing that afterwards (yeah, me), but I still suck at doing it in the moment.  Which means I need to step back, reflect, and then go back and address the situation--which is FAR harder than doing it right there in the moment. 

What I'm learning, is that I have to lean into that conflict.  Address it as the tool that it is:  a way to better understand someone and to be understood myself.  Check out the assumptions you're having.  Look at what it is that you are really feeling (doing it in real-time would be ideal, but maybe not possible) and then state that. 

Conflict--the uncomfortable gift. 

I Am In Need of Music

I am in need of music that would flow
Over my fretful, feeling fingertips,
Over my bitter-tainted, trembling lips,
With melody, deep, clear, and liquid-slow.
Oh, for the healing swaying, old and low,
Of some song sung to rest the tired dead,
A song to fall like water on my head,
And over quivering limbs, dream flushed to glow!
There is a magic made by melody:
A spell of rest, and quiet breath, and cool
Heart, that sinks through fading colors deep
To the subaqueous stillness of the sea,
And floats forever in a moon-green pool,
Held in the arms of rhythm and of sleep.

--Elizabeth Bishop, 1911 - 1979


I need music.  It is as simple as that. 

When I was living in the house with Robb, we put off several major improvements, instead getting the house wired for music--so I could have it in all the rooms. 

When I was in the apartment, I discovered Sonos, a wireless speaker system, that would let me play music in my two main rooms--the living room and my bedroom. 

Here at the treehouse, one of the priorities was setting up my music here.  After Dan died, it became almost an obsession--if I could just get music throughout the treehouse then I could feel better.  I went to Best Buy and dropped $700 on two more speakers to get music wired through the entire treehouse.  And it did make me happy.

I don't just want a music player in each room--I want to be able to go from room to room and hear the music in each room.  I know it is crazy, but it drives me nuts if a song I really like is playing in one room and then I have to leave it for a song I really don't like.  The Sonos system lets me play my Pandora and hear it in the whole house.

It's funny to see this trait in my boys as well.  Eric falls to sleep with music every night.  Kyle won't shower without music playing.  Last week, it was sad because every shower was with Dave Matthew's "Gravedigger."  After the funeral, he came home and played the slow version of "Mad World" over and over again.  Music is the soundtrack for them as well. 

Music is not just a nice to have for me.  It is essential, especially in difficult times.  It calms my nerves, it makes me happy, it distracts me, it lifts me up.  Music is the background of my life. 

Things Aren't As They Seem

Sorrow makes us all children again - destroys all differences of intellect. The wisest know nothing. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson


It's been a hell of a week. 

I think that actually could be an understatement.  This family has been very upset about the tragedy of our neighbor family.  The boys have been distracted and have had a hard time at school.  We've all gotten sick with colds from the emotional stress.  We've tried to help where we could, but have felt absolutely impotent with how little we can actually do. 

But we've pulled together as we could.  I'm so grateful that Robb and I have braved the divorce with civility and compassion.  It has served us well this week as we've joined forces to help where we could.  But I've looked at some moments of this week and just seen them as surreal. 

So picture this.  It is Saturday and we've arrived at the viewing.  The four Haskins are in front of the casket, crying.  Robb and I have our arms around our boys as they are so sad seeing their neighbor and friends' father.  We look like the old Haskins family--all dressed up, the model of a close family, comforting and affectionate. 

And, in that time of grief, we were there for each other.  But behind that picture of domestic divorce bliss, there are the realities of our new lives.  The struggles between Kyle and Robb.  The fact that Robb is getting more serious in his new relationship (and would change his relationship status the next day--but not before defriending me), and that Eric is still angry at all of us.

All that is true.  But in that moment of pain and grief, it was the absolutely natural thing to come up to the casket together, to put our arms around each other and to cry. 

Shock, Sadness and Grief.

“You have a choice. Live or die. Every breath is a choice. Every minute is a choice. To be or not to be.”  --Chuck Palahniuk

We are in shock.  This is a tragedy.  Our world has changed. 

I am prone to hyperbole, but I just can't find how this is an exageration. 

Between Saturday evening (after I dropped off his son at home at 12:30am) and Sunday morning (when the boys got uninteligible calls from their respective best friends), our neighbor hung himself in his garage.  He left four teenage boys and a wife.  And some very sad friends. 

This isn't just any neighbor.  They lived across the street and his two middle sons were my two sons' best friends from the time they were 3 and 5.  The younger one had spent the day and a half before helping us move.  He calls me 2nd Mom.  His dad was a prominent man in my sons' lives and a constant presence in the neighborhood.  And I wouldn't have imagined this happening in a million years.

We were all there within a few minutes and witnessed grief and shock of levels I couldn't have even imagined.  After the body was gone, we shepherded them across the street to our house (I mean Robb's house) and spent the next 12 hours in just unimaginable sorrow, disbelief and shock.  The days afterwards haven't been much better.  The boys and I are distracted.  Both the boys are getting sick and have missed a bit of school--the physical manifestations are just poor covers for the emotional turmoil they are going through. 

I could write so many blog posts about this and the experience we went through; here's just a few headlines:

• It is amazing what a body does when it is in mental shock. 
• My boys are amazing friends.  I have never been so impressed with two young men in my life--they knew just what to do and did it with amazing grace and compassion. I am overwhelmed by them.
• Those boys' lives have changed forever.  It was so sad to look at them and to know that fact for sure.
• His act ruined not only their lives and their future, but also their home.  They will probably never return to that home.
• I can't imagine the levels of pain and shame that could lead someone to believe that their children would be better off with him doing that. 
• The Haskins family can come together in amazing ways when we need to--despite what has happened in the past.
• The power of just "being" with someone.  Because, Lord knows, there isn't much you can "do."  Although I've tried--there are some beautiful resources here in Orlando for grieving kids.

"Live or die, but don't poison everything."  --Ann Sexton

• This obviously impacted our lives too. 
• The boys have missed much of this week of school between shock (I kept them home on Monday) and sickness (of body and spirit). 
• Move?  Oh yeah, we were moving. 
• The surrealness of me stepping back into my old house and playing hostess, interacting with my neighbors and coordinating everyone--and then remembering that this wasn't my house anymore. 

And of course there are all the existential questions this leaves, including:

• Is it cowardice or bravery to do that? 
• How can someone actually take that step and feel that they have no impact on others.  How can anyone think that their children will be "better off" after something like that.
• Of course, he didn't see the havoc that was wreaked with him gone. 
• Did he see afterwards?  If he could see what the impact was would he regret it?
• How does a child grapple with the message that this sends?  All the conflicting and awful messages that will never make sense?

I have no answers.  Just questions and sadness--on behalf of his family, my second children, my own children and myself.   

My Religion Is Love

There is something in the very nature of my freedom that inclines me to love, to do good, to dedicate myself to others. I have an instinct that tells me that I am less free when I am living for myself alone. The reason for this is that I cannot be completely independent. Since I am not self-sufficient I depend on someone else for my fulfillment. My freedom is not fully free when left to itself. It becomes so when it is brought into the right relation with freedom of another.  --Thomas Merton, 1915 – 1968

In a random moment in the car today, I was imagining what I would answer if asked by a panel of Unitarian Universalist scholars (say a panel who could decide if I were eligible to be a minister--hypothetically) what my "religion" was.  Of course, I'm a devout UU.  But within that, I could define my faith in many different ways, drawing upon many of the religions of the world.  But my answer would be simple. 

My religion is love. 

I don't want this to sound too simplistic or Pollyanna.  I don't mean this in a way that we don't look at the complex challenges out there in a discerning way.  But almost every decision I make is (or should be) based in the question "Is this the most loving way to respond to this situation?" 

We are not meant to live solitary lives; we live in community and how we treat each other matters.  I think we need to look at the greater good in a loving, compassionate way. 

If I look at why I'm a democrat, it's because I believe their policies are the most loving and compassionate to all people.  If I look at why I believe in earth-based religious philosophies, it is because it is the most loving to the earth.  I don't believe in the death penalty or torture because they are the furthest from loving practices. 

In this time of political discourse (that's what I always hope it will be and yet it seems to be a time of political hate), I try to look at the other side and see them as loving humans, but it is hard for me.  Because often I see selfishness and greediness.  I have to conclude that they don't believe in love as much as I do.  And that makes me sad, but what I can do about that is to live my life so darned loudly that they see the power of love and hope to embrace it more in their lives. 

Welcome to the Tree House

And that is just the point... how the world, moist and beautiful, calls to each of us to make a new and serious response. That's the big question, the one the world throws at you every morning. “Here you are, alive. Would you like to make a comment?"  --Mary Oliver

Ever since I moved out of the house where I'd been for 11 years, I've been stressing about where to live.  When I moved out, I needed something right away and made the best decision that I could for the kids and I.  But then I've stressed about it since.  How long to make my lease for?  Is the stress and instability of moving again worth a little more space?  How to make this apartment feel more like a home so that I won't want to move? 

The small space worked when the boys split their time between Robb and I.  It felt cavernous when I was alone and crowded when I wasn't.  But the balance was acceptable.  But with Kyle with me full-time right now, I feel like we're on top of each other.  On one such night last week when I was putting a post on Criagslist for Eric giving guitar lessons (anyone want any?), I just happened to stop by a page where a woman had a post entitled "Unique Octogon TREEHOUSE for rent" with this picture.  I was hooked. 

In the last 48 hours, we've been back and forth with the landlady and her daughter, but I think we are very close to having a new home. 

What I love about this house:
*The house SCREAMS Christine--it is unique, it's set almost in the woods, it's spiritual, it's funky.
*It's just 2 miles away from where I was before, and still a short distance to the kids' school and Robb's house. 
*It is a place the kids (and I) can look back on and remember fondly as the quirky cool house where we spent the last few years of the kids' high school. 
*All three of us said that we were going to be having people over asap.  I LOVE that we all want to share where we live with others. 
*It is just a middle finger to the typical cookie cutter houses here in Central Florida.  I thought I'd have to settle for one of those and I'm delighted that I don't.

*I HAVE MY OWN SPACE.  An office/reading room/meditating room/altar room.  YES!
*It is actually essentially the same price as my apartment now! 
*I've always felt most alive when I'm outdoors and scold myself for not being outside more--this will bring the outdoors in and get me outdoors more!

So it is hard not to look at this as fate.  I was waiting for the perfect solution to come before me, while I was in our "transition home."  And it was waiting for me to be ready.  But it is time.  I'm worthy of a home that delights me.  I'm ready for more stability than an apartment complex creates.  I'm deserving of an office and space that is all mine. 

So I don't have it yet.  And some may say I'm jinxing it to put this up before it is mine.  But I'm going to be crushed whether I share it with you or I don't, so I'm just going to assume that it is mine and put all of my energy towards that.  Please share that energy and let's make it so!

So to paraphrase Mary Oliver, the universe just woke me up and I made a comment.  I said "YES!"

[As an aside, it seems that every where I turn, I find a Mary Oliver poem that is just perfect for me.  So I looked her up in Wikipedia to find that she is still alive and was with a female partner for forty years.  I knew I loved that woman!]

It's Time

When Death Comes

When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps his purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox;

when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering;
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth
tending as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.

When it's over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was a bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it's over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened
or full of argument.

I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.

~ Mary Oliver ~

I have an amazing friend named Bentley who has changed my world in ways small and great.  Last night was his final "Pub Theology," a gathering of friends who like to talk about deep matters and drink beer.  This was his final gathering because he is off to San Francisco to finish divinity school and follow his dreams.  Unfortunately, I am a big part of the reason why they are leaving.  We had lay-offs at my company and we laid off his wife, freeing them to go.  I did coaching with her to help her figure out her "what's next."  And I met with both of them to coach them through the hurdles that stood in the way between here and that dream of San Francisco.  So it's partly my fault and I am so sad to see them go but I am way more proud of them for jumping. 

We had way too many beers last night (don't most great stories start that way) and Bentley was feeling the love.  But instead of making it about him, he turned to a few of us there and issued challenges to us.  He wanted us to carry our gifts forward.  The poem above was the focus of his message.  The first time I heard this poem, I heard it to be all about death.  But the second time, I heard it to be all about life--and that it is.  Bentley said it wasn't enough to just have the amazing gifts that he felt that we had; instead in order to live our fullest, we need to share them in active, creative ways (ok, now I'm paraphrasing--and turning this into what I got from it rather than exactly what he said). 

My life has been on the more chaotic side and I haven't had the bandwidth to think beyond my little family (which, in some cases, was appropriate), but I'm looking to get beyond that and I want to go out bolder.  Maybe it's through the exercise group I just set up through church after my sermon on the body last week.  Or maybe I start my Moving Forward classes again.  And I definitely help continue Pub Theology.  And maybe I do the "Salon Dinners" I've been dreaming about for years (invite some of the few fascinating people I know in my life--who don't know each other--and let the conversations flow!).  Or maybe something else that I haven't realized yet.

But, he's right; it's time.  It's time to stop obsessing over children (okay, that's a big wish) and start focusing on me a bit more and giving a platform for this beautiful new self I'm making.  To be a bride, married to amazement and a bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.  It's time. 

Despair and Hope are Inseparable

Despair and hope are inseparable. One can never understand what hope is really about unless one wrestles with despair. The same is true with faith. There has to be some serious doubt, otherwise faith becomes merely a dogmatic formula, an orthodoxy, a way of evading the complexity of life, rather than a way of engaging honestly with life.  --Cornel West, 1953 -

So one of the things that I realized early on in my process of the last two years was just how easy of a life I have had up to that point.  Really, I hadn't really gone through anything really hard.  And anything I had gone through, I had mostly pushed it under the rug (oh that good old denial is a powerful thing). 

I think I have a gift in sharing my message in the Unitarian Pulpit.  I have considered turning this into a second career at some point (a distant point, don't worry).  But I had often cringed when ministers would talk about how hard life is.  I was kind of a "get over it" kind of girl.  Okay, I get it now.  And, if the time ever comes, I think that these times, these challenges and what I learned about how to overcome them, I will be a better minister (in the general sense or the professional sense). 

How can you understand what happiness is--or contentedness is (which I've come to the conclusion is the opposite of sadness) without exploring the other side?  How can you know what peace is if you haven't had chaos?  How can you recognize loyalty if your relationships have never been tested?  And how can you know faith if you have never just thrown up your hands and hoped that someone took over?

Yes, there is divine purpose for our struggles.  For when we are not struggling, we can truly understand how far we've come and how great we can become. 

My job is to support their dreams!

Keep away from people who try to belittle your ambitions.  Small people always do that, but the really great make you feel that you too, can become great.  When you are seeking to bring big plans to fruition, it is important with whom you regularly associate.  Hang out with friends who are like-minded and who are also designing purpose-filled lives.  Similarly be that kind of a friend to your friends.  --Mark Twain

Mindy Simmons was one of the artists at SUUSI and told a story at one of her concerts (I went to a LOT of concerts, jam sessions, and talks of these amazing artists) about her time as a musician. She said she didn't have parents who asked her when she was going to get a "real job."  Her parents were always encouraging of the difficult path she had chosen to be a musician.  In fact, she called her parents when she decided one night to just stop performing at nightclubs and bars because she didn't like that her main job was to just keep customers drinking (and then go get into cars).  Instead of worrying about how she would pay her bills (her biggest concern), they came over and put all of her childhood stuffed animals around her kitchen table and throw her a little party.  It obviously touched her, and it touched me. 

(To the left--a video of Mindy Simmons "Ain't Florida Neat"--this isn't the typical type of song that she does, but I found it to be amusing and oh-so-real as a resident of the Sunshine State).

So I want this to be a reminder to myself to just support my children on their dreams, no matter how much my own sirens about "reality" and "income" and doubts come into my head.  They have enough people in the world who will be trying to squash their dreams.  My job is to encourage them to go for it. 

This is already a challenge since Eric (who just turned 15) has already picked out his college for music production.  I think that's great, except that it is a 2-year school and I really want him to get a 4-year degree to keep all his possibilities open.  But, my job is to encourage him to follow his dream, support him along the way and help him to do what makes his heart sing.  Lord knows, his musical talents are there to take him wherever he wants to go.

Kyle wants to learn business and video production and work for Pixar.  As a business woman, I know how hard that is and how many obstacles he will have to overcome.  But the world will tell him all those things.  My job is to raise him up, see the dream with him and encourage him every step of the way. 

Someone please just give me gentle reminders...

What To Call This Kind of Parenting?

The fastest growing parenting demographic: 6.9 million women in the United States are raising their children alone after divorce today.  --2009 US Census Bureau

There are SO many people who talk about single parenting after a divorce.  What is it that you call what I'm doing?  Kyle's with me full time and Eric splits his time between his Dad and I.  I'm not a single parent because I'm lucky enough to have their other parent is still involved in their parenting.  But I am not necessarily parenting WITH him in the same way that I did when I was married.  I am 100% responsible for my own finances, home, groceries, errands.  And I do take the lead on most of the kids activities, knowing their friends, initiating new adventures, etc.  But I'm not a "single parent." 

What could you call me?  "A single parent to one child and a split parent to the other"?  "A divorced parent who splits her time, but not her energies"?  I think that "Single Co-Parent" probably works best. 

It is true that my energies have been definitely focused on my kids since the divorce.  My work has noticed.  My friends have noticed.  My kids have noticed (one likes it and the other wishes I'd maybe be a little bit less in his business).  I have concerns about it, but I don't have regrets--it is absolutely what I need to be doing right now. 

But the feeling that I'm doing it "on my own" (see all the caveats above) is a bit overwhelming after all these years.  And it feels somewhat exhausting.  And a little bit empowering. 

SUUSI--Coming Back Open-Hearted

When we simply allow ourselves to fully feel our feelings as they come, we tend to let them go easily. This is all we are required to do; our feelings simply want to be felt. We often complicate the situation by applying mental energy in the form of analysis, when all we really need is to allow, as the earth allows the rain to fall upon it. As the rain falls, the earth responds in a multitude of ways, sometimes emptying out to form a great canyon, sometimes soaking it up to nourish an infinitude of plants. In the same way, the deeper purpose of our feelings is to transform the terrain of our inner world, sometimes creating space for more feelings to flow, sometimes providing sustenance for growth. All we need to do is allow the process by relaxing, opening, and receiving the bounty of our emotions. –Daily Om

So I just got back from a week of vacation.  I've been hearing about this place for years--SUUSI--The Southeast Unitarian Universalist Summer Institute.  I can talk about so many things about SUUSI (and maybe in other blog posts I will):

• About how great it was that my boys got their own dorm with other open-minded teens in a safe place to be who they were and be accepted fully for their awesomeness and to have the freedom and space to just be.
• About how high quality the music was--and how intimately I got to know the artists.
• About the gorgeous setting of Radford University, the peacefulness of reading under a tree and the beautiful hikes, falls, rivers and mountains there were nearby.
• About how this whole week was run by volunteers and how a camp for 1100 people felt better run than most corporate events I've seen.
• How high quality and just cool the workshops were--from ecstatic dance (my "stretch" workshop for the week), to poetry writing, to yoga and great hikes. 

But instead, I want to focus on just how I FELT after SUUSI.  This was an intentional community for one week that made my heart just burst right open.  It was a group of people who were so incredibly excited to be there and who just couldn't wait to share this time and space with each other.  It was a group who knew they were "home" and made you feel like you were with long-lost friends, even if you had just met.  By the concert on Monday Night of Brother Sun (great instrumentalists, but their amazing vocal talents are highlighted on this video), I felt my heart just opening.  The conversations with people there were just more real and authentic and everyone was just "fuller."  And every activity and every encounter just made that richer. 

You know that expression "dance like no one is watching?"  Well I did that at the evening dances.  I got to Contra Dance for the first time in 10 years and it just made my heart swell and I was grinning for the entire three hours.  I lost myself in ecstatic dance--a highlight of my week--where you just let your body feel the music and do what it wants to do, without an agenda or concern about what you "should" be doing or what anyone else thinks.  When we took a break, I looked and saw that I had been dancing for an hour and it felt like just 20 minutes.  And that was just the three dancing examples. 

Thank you SUUSI--as someone who is trying to live a more whole-hearted life, thank you for showing me how that feels. 

I See You and You are Amazing

What did we ever do before Facebook memes?  I love quotes.  I love them so much that I made them the structure around which I made this blog. 

I just saw this one:

And it represents SO MUCH of what I'm going for here. 

I want people to SEE ME.  All of me--my beauty and my warts.  I want people to see my good deeds and all the times I screw up.  My kindness and my selfishness. 

Here are a few things that touch me and show me that you see me:
*  When I say something obscure and small and you actually remember it and reference it in a future conversation.  I know this sounds obvious, but it means you were really listening.  And what I said was important enough that you saved some long-term memory storage for it.  It's really a big compliment. 
*  When I say something--and you want to know more.  You ask questions, you dig further.  You don't just immediately tell me what YOU think, you ask to know more about what I think.  It means that you're interested in my thoughts and feelings as more than just jump-starters for your own.
*  When you haven't heard from me in a while and you randomly reach out to say hi and see if I'm okay.  What that means is that you've noticed the hole in your life where you see me being and you miss me.  And that you care what is happening to me. 

And, oh do I want to see you too.  I'm sometimes too absorbed in wanting you to see me to do that.  And sometimes I'm working so hard to make you see me to do that.  Because I'm fallible and very human.  But I really do want to see you--all of you.  I want you to feel safe in showing me your warts, fears and pride. 

Wouldn't this world be such a better place if we could really see each other and let ourselves be seen.  I challenge each one of you to show one other person today that you see them. 

Not My Finest Moment

I try. I am trying. I was trying. I will try. I shall in the meantime try. I sometimes have tried. I shall still by that time be trying.  Diane Glancy, 1941 -

So last week I didn't have one of my finest moments.  During all of this post-divorce time, I've been trying to stick to the high road.  I've been trying to be compassionate and supportive. 

Basically, I know one couple who went through a divorce compassionately and it was so inspiring.  And it reflected really well on them. 

The majority of other people who I've known who have gone through this have gotten anger, and resentment into their hearts and it has reflected really badly on them.  As justified as it can be (and believe me, sometimes it is), those negative feelings just end up being poison for them and end up eating away at their real selves. 

I really have been working hard to make sure I'm part of the first group and not get sucked into the self-righteous (although alluring) second group. 

But lately some some of the poor choices by my wasband have really impacted me.  He and our eldest son are having relationship issues due to how Robb has handled himself since the divorce (and probably plenty of things before).  And Kyle's living with me full time now.  And I've been angry that Kyle is impacted like that and I was resentful about how I was impacted.  But what came out was self-righteousness.  And I didn't filter it. 

At dinner with a bunch of girlfriends (who were part of couple friends), I expressed some of those thoughts.  And IMMEDIATELY after, I felt bad.  And icky.  It made them uncomfortable and it made me less of who I was. 

Because the truth is that I'm thrilled to have Kyle with me.  The hardest part of the divorce is not having my kids with me every night.  And I'm sad for Robb and Kyle that they are struggling, but that is their struggle, not mine.  And my self-righteousness or anger or resentment can not help my son to build a better relationship with his dad.  And it only eats at me. 

So I am newly resolved to become that person again--the person who lives according to my values of love and acceptance.  Who eminates that and doesn't get caught up in the petty issues that are usually cover-ups for deeper emotions that we don't want to look at. 

50 Shades of Fun

If a man insisted always on being serious, and never allowed himself a bit of fun and relaxation, he would go mad or become unstable without knowing it.

--Herodotus (484BC-430BC), The Histories of Herodotus

So this post is about the book Fifty Shades of Gray.  It's amazing to me how it is becoming the talk of the summer.  And I'm in the middle of reading them.  And I've been reading all the facebook posts and essays about them.

 

Let me be perfectly clear: 

• I'm a feminist. I believe that women are amazing, capable of anything and everything and that, if given the chance, they could run the world better than men.
• I'm against abuse of women of any kind.  I've seen my share of it (actually more than my share it seems lately) and abuse can not and should not be tolerated in any form: emotional, physical, sexual. 
• I was an english major.  I appreciate good writing and interesting use of the language. 

Based on all that, I should HATE Fifty Shades of Gray.  It's poorly written and has the same phrases used over and over again.  It is an abusive relationship--filled with a man who only knows how to dominate women and a woman who lets her sexual desire trump her common sense and thinks violence is hot. 

BUT I DON'T hate it; I really am enjoying it.  Loosen up people.  It's fun.  It's silly.  It's escapist.  I'm enjoying it immensely.  I don't want to put it down and it is a great little retreat from this crazy world of mine. 

I think we need to give the women who are reading this a little more credit.  I don't think that reading this book is more likely to make me get into an abusive relationship any more than reading the Twilight series made me want to get into a relationship with a vampire. 

Sometimes it is good not to take things so seriously.

 

(So excuse me as I go back--I'm on book two and they're about to go into the playroom again.  I'm really hoping that they use those balls in her "sex" along with two or three of the whips!) 

Road Trip Delight

I am a stranger to half measures. With Life I am on the attack, restlessly ferreting out each pleasure, foraging for answers, wringing from it even the pain. I ransack life, hunt it down. I am the hungry peasants storming the palace gates. I will have my share. No matter how it tastes.   --Marita Golden, 1950 -

Kyle and I just came back from a four day monster road trip.  It was supposed to be a weekend roadtrip to Nashville to see a concert for his birthday.  But my son is like me and saw an opportunity for something bigger.  Like the quote, he wanted to ransack this road trip and ferret all the pleasures.  It started with an innocent comment he made, "you know, mom, Cincinnati is only 4 hours away from Nashville..."  So, we added two days and a trip to Cincinnati to our agenda. 

What is so remarkable about the trip was how unremarkable it was.  We settled into two hour shifts of driving.  We negotiated the music.  We ate as much as we could from what we brought and stayed on a budget for the rest.  We helped the other person out when they were driving by grabbing waters, changing the iPod music, checking the directions.  We used our please and thank yous.  We got on each others' nerves slightly and then backed off.  We stopped when we needed to and whoever didn't need to pee pumped the gas. 

Really, I think I just got schooled on how to be in a comfortable relationship by my son. 

Roadtrips were never like this with Robb.   To be fair, he really wasn't a fan.  But he was so worried about making good time and crazy drivers and backed up traffic that the any trip with him was stressful.  As a result, I just did any trips with the boys by myself.  And that's hard when you're the only driver.  But with a good teen driver, the equation changes. 

We also got a good reminder of some of the special people in our lives.  People who love us for who we are, not what we do or how often we see them.  We are so blessed to have people like that in our lives. 

So, I'm exhausted and delighted by the trip.  So off to bed...with a smile. 

My Perspective on Community

Friendship is a strong and habitual inclination in two persons to promote the good and happiness in another. - Eustace Budgell

[The following is a post that I wrote for my friend Heather Bowie's blog.  She asked other blogger friends to write about Community.  Since community has been such a huge part of my journey--and because I just jump into stuff--I said I'd write one!  I met Heather when we were living in Cincinnati and she was in the church choir that my wasband was directing.  He knew I'd love her and I immediately did.  She has an amazing energy, an enthusiastic approach to life--and she was a camp person.  We were around when she met her husband in a castle in Ireland and we sang at her wedding.  She has a wonderful blog about living with a son with an undiagnosed disability--or super power, as she calls it.  Please read and forward her blog-- http://teamaidan.wordpress.com/]

I've been blessed to have some wonderful communities in my life.  And the older I get and the more challenges I've faced, the more important those communities have become for me. 

The biggest thing I've learned about communities is that they lay in the tension between opposites:  giving and receiving; strength and vulnerability; attention and space and work and fun. 

My biggest community is through my Unitarian church.  We actually call ourselves the "Beloved Community."  While the words are slightly corny, the intent behind it is sincere and a focus of our attention.  It's not just a community; it's one that we love, nurture and value.  But I also have communities of good friends (a notable community of moms whose kids went to a Montessori school together about 8 years ago), work friends, and family members.

The biggest tension of opposites is that you need to both give and receive to make community work.  I've always understood the giving part.  I love being a leader in my church, helping others, teaching classes, leading services, initiating projects.  But I went through a divorce 18 months ago and I had to call on my community for help.  It took vulnerability (not my strong suit)  for emotional support (a shoulder to cry on) and functional tasks (will you help me move AGAIN?) but it was then that I realized how important it was to me.  And it was important to my friends to give back to me.  It sealed the mutual cycle of giving and receiving.  And being both strong and vulnerable within this gives us the space to be authentic. 

I have a busy life.  There have been times in my life that I've just disappeared from my community for a month or two.  But I realize how strong my community is when I come back.  I'm so grateful for the space that I can take and the welcome I receive when I come back.  I actually think it makes the community stronger.  It isn't a needy community--it has space for people to leave and come back.  But when they come back they reinstate the ties that made them strong in the first place. 

And finally, I think the best memories come from doing hard work together.  I know that the strongest connections have come from doing impossible things--or meaningful things--together.  We created the tightest community the years some friends and I put together a summer camp program for inner city kids--it was the impossible, impeccably done.   And even last week, our church community stepped up in a major way when a beloved member and pillar of the Orlando community died.  We hosted a beautiful funeral for over 500 people (when our sanctuary holds about 280), pulling together all the resources that a congregation can muster.  And it pulled us together in amazing ways because we wanted to show our love for Joe's wife and family.  It made me love these people even more and strengthened our community in a big way.

So, there are my thoughts.  Community through the tension of opposites.  It is work to create and maintain relationships.  But it is meaningful work and the rewards are some of the most important that you'll have in your lives.