It's Too Late to Apologize

"I'd take another chance, take a fall
Take a shot for you
And I need you like a heart needs a beat
But it's nothing new, yeah, yeah
I loved you with a fire red
Now it's turning blue, and you say
Sorry like the angel heaven let me think was you
But I'm afraid

It's too late to apologize, it's too late..."

- Ryan Tedder, One Republic

I know I said I was doing the whole video thing, and I will, but I had a quick bit of inspiration while listening to one the YouTube channels I follow that's based on personality disordered persons.This will become a very important topic as we continue on this journey together. I wanted to talk about one of the key factors that I think makes a relationship with someone toxic to your well being...

...It's the inability to apologize. Plain and simple. Stay with me here and let me tell you why it all boils down to this. Being able to apologize is so much more than saying "I'm sorry". The person speaking in the YouTube video said, "The only sincere apology is changed behavior. If it doesn't change long-term, then they are not truly remorseful."   

You might be thinking, "but Red, I mean, no one is perfect. They said sorry; forgive and forget, right?" Yes, no one is perfect, however abusive behavior is not okay. Stepping over your boundaries and committing the same trespasses over and over again after saying I'm sorry is just that.

Anything less than a proper apology with visible action behind it means they aren't willing to change and will repeat the offense. You are totally being manipulated. A proper apology by the way is "I'm sorry, that was my fault, I'll never do it again" or something of that variety.

A proper apology is not a string of excuses explaining their emotional state and why they did something to you. That's not taking responsibility for their actions, That's hoping you will just understand and let it go.You aren't in a relationship with a person. You are in a "manipulationship".

It's important that you know what your boundaries and standards for people that you let into your life are or this will happen to you over and over. Don't think that one day I just arbitrarily started cutting people I felt incapable of change out of my life.  I saw problematic behavior and gave many chances for change. I dismissed their behavior under the pretenses of "they've had a hard life" or "they are just going through a hard time" or "they just have some growing up to do". The problem with toxic people is that they aren't going to get past these circumstances, They are going to let hard lives, times, and lack of emotional growth rule their lives forever because doing what's necessary to change takes guts and commitment like nothing else, Doing the deep work required of change is very, very, very hard and most sadly just won't do it because of the difficulty level. You are essentially fighting yourself, the deep inner core of who you are, the way you are "wired", every day and that is possibly the most tiring and excruciating thing you can ever do. You are changing everything that has made you, you! The dedication to such an undertaking is enormous, So now you might understand why I'm more serious now about protecting my well-being and giving way fewer chances. I don't allow so much for "over and over". I need to see serious change and am well aware that that change probably isn't coming.

Well get more into this in the videos, but I really wanted to take a moment to explain this concept, The people in your life are going to be essential to your healing. Make sure they are ones that want to lift you up and help you be the best you can be, otherwise, you'll remain stuck in your hard life, hard times and ever reaching for an unattainable the emotional growth you so need to love yourself and life!

Happy Fishing!

--Red

A Time to Heal...

To everything (turn, turn, turn)

There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time to every purpose, under heaven

A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep

-The Byrds

My life the last year has been all about taking the time to heal.  There has been amazing discovery and agonizing recovery. One of the things I learned about being a survivor of emotional and psychological abuse is that one of the unfortunate side effects of such is the erosion of self...

...and it's now no wonder I started this blog confused about my purpose, and probably more so, who I was... 

I look back upon my writings and I came so close to figuring this out so many times. I just didn't put the pieces together in my very broken mind. I should have figured this out long ago and the relationships responsible for such a reduction of personality, but instead it took events of greater magnitude for me to finally say "something is really wrong here".

I have studied so much. I have figured out ugly truths about people once held dear to me.... 

...I have been likened to a warrior to others trying to survive themselves. If you don't know or love yourself, you don't know quite what to do with that....

I spent months identifying what made me  me down to favorite flavor a of ice cream because the deconstruction of self had been so cavernous. I had so much self-doubt to overcome that I still have to say "trust yourself" when walking out a door wondering if something was unplugged when I had just looked at it. 

I do not feel like much of a warrior in those times...but I also know I've come so far. 

I watch a lot of YouTube videos on emotional manipulators and how to heal from such abuse. Someone said "ask yourself how will you use what you've been through for the greater good". 

That's it, right? Could that be the sense of purpose and self I've spent years writing about only to find glimpses and pieces of it because I truly wasn't focused on the experiences that made me the person who I was and now that I am?

A lot of survivors take their stories to YouTube and blogs hoping to arm those who are, shall we say, emotionally disadvantaged due to what they have been through. It's time for me to do the same...

If you are a long time reader or friend, you may see or hear things that make you uncomfortable. Please try, if possible, to not be. This is my story. Survivors need to tell and live our tales out loud in the hopes that the shame that keeps others in the dark and abusers roaming free unfettered is lifted.  We'll also still explore finding your purpose in life, but I've come to know that this only happens when you are the best you that you can be,

If you are new to this blog, and the coming YouTube channel, welcome! I hope you can take a bit of peace and healing with you from someone saying "me, too."

Time to jump back into the ocean...and the fire...

Happy Fishing!

--Red

Ch-ch-ch-changes

"I still don't know what I was waiting for
And my time was running wild
A million dead-end streets
Every time I thought I'd got it made
It seemed the taste was not so sweet
So I turned myself to face me"

- "Changes", David Bowie, 1971

I went into therapy in the fall of 2015. I was finally ready to deal with some of the issues from my childhood that I felt were keeping me from being a healthy adult. It's my admittedly unsubstantiated, but fully experienced, belief that many creative types have emotional issues of some kind. There is something cathartic about creating that helps us, but spend enough time around a mess of them (and I think in particular that a group of musicians should be called a "mess") and you might realize it's time to clear some things out of your subconscious catalog. Possibly well past time, even. 

This was good timing because, of course, Marc leaving, and for the second time, exacerbated past issues I had experienced. While I have done a lot of work to realize that this band wasn't my identity and that there was more to being me, there seemed to be some things that maybe I hadn't fully dealt with. 

I'll admit it; I expected to go in and hear "fear of abandonment", maybe "low self-esteem", or even "depression". What I did hear would change, if not completely alter, my world:

"Stockholm Syndrome" (also called "Trauma Bonding"), "C-PTSD", and something with some of the worst connotations and misinformation surrounding it... 

..."Codependency".

Wait, what? I'm pretty independent! I'm not necessarily needy...what the hell, lady?

Like most people I thought this meant someone who is needy but it's not that and in fact it's more than that. Let's visit Wikipedia, shall we?

"Codependent relationships are a type of dysfunctional helping relationship where one person supports or enables another person's addiction, poor mental health, immaturity, irresponsibility, or under-achievement." 

Oh yeah...okay...that's it...

My therapist and I figured out that my biological mother fit the profile of someone with a "Cluster B" Personality Disorder. My unresolved codependent tendencies derived from being her child have had me chasing those kind of relationships all my life. As I look back I realize that I have had many toxic boyfriends, supervisors, and close friends throughout my life. I've had more toxic close relationships on average than healthy ones. 

I'm a serial "fixer". I always try to see the good in people and I want to help them achieve the best they can be. I know what it feels like to grow up with no one supporting you emotionally and cheering you on. I don't want people to feel that way. The thing is, I just don't know when to stop, and that's what gets me into trouble. I've been so conditioned to walking on eggshells and avoiding conflict as much as possible, even if the person I'm trying to help is behaving irrationally and eventually disrespecting me.  I help at the detriment to myself and that has to stop. I always think, "they will get better I just know it. With enough love and support they will stop doing what they are doing. We do have some good days..."

Eventually no matter how hard you try to help, the rage you were trying to avoid from that person happens. You can't believe that they couldn't be helped and that they would behave that way towards you after all you've done, but this is why they are labeled as "toxic" and why you have to know when to walk away. These are the types of people I just can't have in my life if I'm going to break this cycle. I will have to have healthier boundaries and develop a healthier self-esteem, or I'm going to continue having "holes" blown in my life. 

It's really hard at first. You feel guilty. You are used to letting people treat you however they want to because somewhere you learned that was the only way to get people to like you. You feel guilty because those types in your life don't like your new way of thinking and then deem you the monster because they've stopped being able to have their way in every situation. 

I was on the phone recently with someone trying to be clear about why I had to remove someone close to them from my life. It was causing issues for us, and since we had been friends a long time, I felt it appropriate to have the conversation. 

"It's not that I'm different..." I said trying to explain that I'm still the loving person I was and that that hadn't changed. 

He interrupted me, "No, Dana, actually you are different now..."

You know what? He's right. Different isn't bad. It can be good...very good. I will own this. I am different.

...so I turned myself to face me....

I'm not just on a journey to find me and my purpose...I'm on a journey to love and take care of  myself as well. That's the only way I can be found.

Happy Fishing!

--Red

The Force Awakens

     Hopefully by now everyone has seen Star Wars: Episode VII The Force Awakens. If not, I apologize for the following spoiler. You can stop reading here, but I'll try not to give too much away...

     Who didn't catch their breath when Han Solo and General Leia saw each other again after so many years apart? The audience is then given a glimpse into what happened, why it had been so long since they were together, and ultimately, in his despair, how Han went back to "the only thing I knew". That moment really resonated with me because at a time of great confusion, I found myself returning to the only thing I knew...

 

   
     So it's been awhile since I've blogged, yes?  I've had an amazing and busy year of grabbing the starfish! StoneKracker released a CD this last year, we played a lot of shows, and Marc, my lead guitarist as you might remember, and I even started a recording business together. I really felt like I was out living my purpose. I knew where I was going with my life. I mean, sure, bands aren't forever, and the business was something we could do creatively for some time to come.

     ...until the day it all came crashing down around me...

     Towards the end of last September, Marc announced that he was leaving the band because he would be spending all of his time working at another recording studio and would not have the time to devote to a musical project. He also let me know that I would not be continuing on with him in the business because in order to take this opportunity, he felt that he needed to work freelance.  Our band and business partnership was over. Just that quickly, it was all done. Although we had several resultant conversations due to his decision, he had already firmly made up his mind and was adamant that this was what he wanted, The band supported his decision and then, a little over a month and a half later, he was gone. He was no longer performing with the band and he had had his last recording session in the studio we built in my home,

     Upon hearing the news, I felt that big hole in my heart returning. The future, as I thought it was going to be, had been pulled out from under me. Like I said, I know that StoneKracker won't be around forever, but I love this band and had surrounded myself with people I consider to be family. There were many opportunities to take advantage of and projects to pursue now that we had music recorded. I really loved the business that I had put a lot of time, hard work, and money into it. It was all such a whirlwind of emotions and that fear of loss that I had been carrying around previously for a decade or so was creeping in.  I just wasn't sure where I was going from here and how I would go forward.

     The next three days were heartbreaking. I cried so much no one was buying my "I have allergies" excuse. You could see the pain on my face from the bags and dark circles under my eyes and the redness contained therein. The reality of the situation was playing over and over in my mind along with a handful of questions. What do I do know? What does my future look like? What about the band; how does that continue? Wait a minute...

     Remember when my friend Amy asked me, "Yeah, but what's YOUR dream?" We had been talking about why I went into business with Marc that day at her house. That was the one question that has haunted me on and off since then. Maybe somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I was living Marc's dream and not mine. Amy's was the only question I had to answer to make all of the rest of the answers fall into place. That's why the "hole" was coming back.  I forgot about who I am. Think about this:  I have made a whole blog about finding out what I was supposed to do with my life only to find myself living someone else's. Where did I go wrong here? I would have that answer too as long as I dug deep to remember, to actually know and be sure of, who I was and what I wanted. Only then would I be able to accept this major life change and others to come in my life and move forward no matter what happens,,,       

      So, here I am. Just like Han Solo I'm going back to the only thing I know, because deep down that's who I am. That has to be my starting point. I'm back on the beach unable to grab the starfish bobbing in water because my hands are full of shells...

     Hello, my name is Dana "Red" Leigh Cooper and I'm a writer...

     Welcome back to the ocean everyone...to be continued...

Happy Fishing!

--Red



   

What a Long Strange Trip It's Been

     How cool is that?  That's me...see? Really tiny on that stage in the middle...the one with the red hair?  It's been an incredible year...

     I recently realized I hadn't touched this blog in a year.  A whole year.  I thought this might happen.  I mean, once you "grab the starfish" you have to go out there and live the dream, right?  Wait...did I just refer to my purpose as the dream?  I guess when I started this blog it was about finding out what my purpose on this planet was, and I suppose the vehicle by which it was delivered too, but, really, is that necessarily the "dream"?  Before we get to that, let me explain what's been going on from where we left off with each other.

     My band got back together. It's part of the purpose I had discovered for my life ("No Diving in the Shallow End"). The very same band that caused me to question who I was and whether I should be  able to be happy after what happened ("What Doesn't Kill You" ).  Yup. Them. Stonekracker. At first I was excited that we could all exist in the proverbial "water under the bridge" space and felt like that hole in my heart was going away ("The Donut Hole").  It's been one of the best band experiences I've ever had really.  We have greater freedom to create, ego's aren't the problem they were when we were younger, and some of the pressure to "make it" that comes with being a younger person is gone. I play guitar now and I didn't before. People come and see us play and we have so much fun. We are all much older and wiser now.  Piece of cake, right?

    Yeah...no....

    You will never know what you are made of until you are faced to be in contact day after day with the one person in your life who did the most emotional damage to you. Navigating the waters with my lead guitarist, Marc, has been...well...I've described it as a yo-yo.  It just hasn't been easy, and that's for both of us. The old conversations, the way everything went down, the feelings of betrayal between two people who had trusted each other completely at one point; these things come back just by looking at the other one.  Sometimes that's really all it takes. You can't stop the movie from playing.  It just switches on...except it's a horror movie instead of a John Hughes coming of age type movie.

    He apologized over Facebook a few months before we started playing together and I readily accepted that apology, but as you all know, for me, forgive doesn't mean forget. Somewhere around February last year, I was starting to think that we were never going to be on the same page ever again and that there would always be this "thing" that would always be between us.  Some days I still feel that way, but it was at that moment, almost out of the blue, almost as if I was being given a gift from God, he handed me this leather bound book.  It had music stanzas on the front, tied closed with a tiny ribbon, and bore his name at the top.  He told me it was a collection of song lyrics he had written. I felt like this would be a breakthrough for us.  An olive branch to maybe stop the emotional bleeding and start rebuilding the trust.  These were his personal thoughts...and he wanted me to read them.  He wanted to let me back into his life on some level.

     I read it ravenously.  It was all I thought it would be.  It confirmed much for me about him and about us. Then I left him something inside it upon its return...

     Months before he gave me the book, I wrote my apology to him for what had happened between us, but I didn't do it on Facebook.  I had written a song entitled "Fight".  I tucked the lyrics inside his book and was honestly not prepared for the reaction when he found them days later.  Marc was so moved he stayed up for days writing the music, trying to capture the desperation, loneliness, and regret that I had spelled out on the page... 

     ...and he did...and it was amazing.  The song, however, didn't see the light of day until the band recorded it in October for an acoustic compilation we were going to be on. The song, although absolutely remarkable, was too painful, but we agreed that it was finally time to release it.  Over the last year we also killed our entire back catalog of old songs and wrote all new ones so it's been a busy time.  I've been working on repairing my relationship with Marc, writing new music, trying to keep my head above water playing the guitar...I also did start a new job that has taken me a little off of the accounting trail as I thought should happen. I've really been working at all of those things I found out about myself and what I'm supposed to be doing with my life...or have I?

     Marc and I during this time had also decided to start a business together.  He's an audio engineer and wanted to get back into recording and producing bands.   I was over at my friends Jeremy and Amy's house last weekend picking up some business cards that Jeremy has made for our business.   Jeremy is an amazing graphic artist and has his own small business, Punk, Rock, Love - Illustration and Design.  We were sitting around talking when Amy asked me why I went into business with Marc.

    "It's Marc's dream to do this and I want to help him do that," I explained.

    "Yeah, but what's YOUR dream?" Amy asked.

    ...Wait...What?

     When the Greatful Dead wrote "Truckin'", a song about their misfortunes on the road as a metaphor for getting though life culminating in the refrain "what a long strange trip it's been", I think they were on to something.  I have found myself so sidetracked lately with the band business as it's gotten bigger and the new business, that maybe I'm starting to forget about the purpose.  Maybe I am forgetting about my dreams in all of this, because when Amy said that, I had nothing. I've been just running ragged; completely on "what do I have to accomplish next" mode without ever asking why, is it necessary, and am I happy.  With all of the work to get all the songs ready, the work to promote all of the shows we did, the emotional upheaval I've experienced being back in this situation, the details of learning a new job...with the "long strange trip it's been"...I may have lost me a little bit along the way.

     It's time to dial back and return to the writer I am in the core center of my being to figure all of this out. I know the purpose, but what's the dream, and do those things compliment each other and with the rush that is life, how do I hold on to them?

    As I sip, my coffee, and stare out my office window at a cold and dreary winter day, I'm listening to "These Dreams" by Heart... 

"These dreams that sleep when it's cold outside
Every moment I'm awake the further I'm away
There's something out there I can't resist"
       
     ...welcome back... and here we go again...


Happy Fishing

--Red


PS - If you'd like to hear me expound upon the story of  "Fight", and hear the first time it was played on the radio, you can do so right here!  Many thanks to Loris Lowe and KLBJ FM 93.7 in Austin, TX for having me in the studio! Loris is an amazing person and supports the local music scene in Austin with her show Local Licks Live.  https://soundcloud.com/klbj937/local-licks-podcast-january-20-2015
  

What Happens in Vegas...

     About six years ago, I got heat exhaustion.  I was dog training, helping another trainer judge her Canine Good Citizen class on a really hot June evening.  I forgot to drink water, the class was moving so fast, and I really hadn't eaten anything either.  At the end of class, after helping to clean up the class site, I went to join the others in the business office and that's when it happened.  Someone had cranked the air conditioner down into the sixties at least and, when my over extended body hit that cold air, my blood pressure dropped and I almost did, too. I remember grabbing on to one of the interns as the floor was rushing up to meet me.  It was sincerely terrifying. I shouldn't have done it, but I got in my car to drive home telling everyone I was fine.  My eyes were really sensitive to light as I tried to drive home against the flow of headlights coming from the other direction and I almost pulled into two hospitals on my way home.  I made it into my driveway and Eric came out with Kobi, our dog, to greet me.  I have never been so happy to see them in my life. I tried to eat, but there was no saliva in my mouth to help process the food. A few days later I finally did end up in the hospital after experiencing extreme vertigo.  My body quickly drank in two bags of IV fluid after the dehydration diagnoses was given.

     A month later my biological mother died of congestive heart failure...and my doctor gave me a prescription for twenty Xanax and said, "Use them wisely..."

     ...I still have them...they probably aren't any good anymore...

     My job even gave me a day off.  Since I was estranged from my mother, I indicated that that wasn't necessary, but my supervisor said, "Dana; you are going to eventually freak out. I don't want you here when that happens."  That was said with love and concern, really it was, but what she didn't realize was that the freak out process would be a little more inward and a little more slow growing.

     ...Looking back, maybe, with everything that had been going on, I should have taken that Xanax.  I am just so anti-drug.  I'm a "feeler." I don't want to do anything that keeps me from being who I am and feeling everything I am going through. I'm a creative person; for me it's part of the process. Although now I'm thinking the Xanax may have helped keep some things in perspective instead of developing full blown phobias.

     After my Mother's death, I wouldn't eat anything with fat in it.  I lost 30 pounds. I was so worried about my heart, but it manifested in such an odd way. I didn't increase my exercise, or anything at all like that.  I just stopped eating fat. Then because of the heat exhaustion I wouldn't go outside if the temperature was above 85 degrees.  If I had to, I'd break into hysterics. Often.

     So, here we are, six years later. The years have helped lessen the fears a bit.  I am still overly concerned about my heart and will start to experience an uncomfortable and quiet panic when outdoors for very long when the temperatures are over 85 degrees.  I'm better than I was though. There aren't as many hysterics...

     ....but there are panic attacks.  I've been prone to them since I was about 24 year sold or so.  I remember having one the day of a show and having to pull over because I couldn't drive.  They aren't that bad anymore, but they creep up slowly and can get a bit debilitating if I let them come in all the way.

     As you can imagine, I'm having a bit of an issue with my spine from the fall where I broke my wrist.  I've been dizzy, had migraines, etc, and some days, I don't want to move, much less, go on vacation...

     ...That being said, for me, Las Vegas is the happiest place on earth, forget Disney World! We had had the trip planned for months and hadn't been in years, so I didn't want to miss it due to the recent bone break. Or, you know, so I thought....

     I had a couple of rough "gravitational pull" moments on the trip out there but seemed to be doing better by the end of the first night. Any sickness I had experienced earlier in the day gave way to just plain exhaustion as we struggled to stay awake. Not really thinking, we had gotten tickets to see Ron White at 10:00, which was midnight in the "real world" as Eric started calling central standard time. We couldn't wait to collapse into bed after the show and I didn't give another thought to my wrist or my bad dizzy spells. The next morning we decided to walk the strip. It was unusually hot for April in Vegas with highs around 95. It was already in the low 80's by the time we went walking....and...um...getting really hot... I could feel myself get that certain "uncomfortableness" that rises up in me. I mean, I didn't even have any water on me. definitely wasn't prepared. Uncomfortableness usually gives way to feeling line a caged animal. A pacing of sorts goes on in my brain and I can't find any escape - oh, wait, what? You're hot, too? Okay, we'll go back to the hotel and check out the pool and a frozen drink....I was so relieved at that moment that Eric wanted go back.

     Still really hot outside, but hours later we had to walk over to The Venetian where Rock of Ages was playing. I had gotten us tickets; I was so excited! Always had wanted to see it and thought it was just a short walk across the street from where we were staying at The Mirage. Yeah, short walk...at 98 degrees...and I had been getting more dizzy as the day went on as well. Oh well; had to go! Couldn't take a cab across the street, right? Thought I would just put on my brave front....which didn't last long.

     We started off walking down the long sidewalk from The Mirage that would take us to the Strip then across the street to The Venetian. The sidewalk itself slopes down and I found on the trip out that downward slopes made me more dizzy than anything else. It was hot, I was feeling that familiar feeling of the ground rushing up to meet me and just when I said, "I can't do this!" I heard, "Dana! Just breathe!"

    I don't know whether it was the startle of Eric's voice or the breath, but I immediately calmed down and was able to take the rest of the walk across the street without incident.  In fact, I pretty much spent the rest of the evening without incident.  Any time I felt dizzy and that I might panic, I made myself stop and breathe. It sounds so simple, but it was something I have never been able to fully make myself do before.  You always hear about it right?  "Just take a deep breath..."  Never before had a realized how fully cleansing and stabilizing that could be and how desperately I needed to add it to my everyday life. 

    I've become much better physically over the last few weeks.  The dizziness is nearly gone, my wrist is healing, and, well, I've been outside a lot more.  They say what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.  I hope not...well, at least for this, because the lesson I learned there has translated well to my life back in the "real world..."  

   ....However...when I think about it...there is some video of me dancing that I wish Eric had left there...


Happy Fishing!

--Red



     

          

Apples and Trees

     So, as I've mentioned, I'm trying to take time for myself and offload some of the various activities that keep me way busier than I need to be.  Things are going swimmingly (pardon the pun) well.  I'm the happiest I've been in awhile.  Still a few things that need, let's call it, "fixing," but I am dealing with them better and better everyday.  I am more refreshed and more up to "starfish grabbing" than I've been in awhile.  There is one thing though that I can't completely seem to get away from, and try as I may, it keeps coming back over and over again... 

      ...This thing of which I speak is genetics.

      Okay so maybe not totally genetics.  I don't want to get into the nature vs. nurture argument here, but I can't seem to put my family's past behind me. If you've been reading this blog for any length of time you know, or at least have been introduced to glimpses of the fact, that I didn't have the best of relationships with my biological mother.  So instead of a few more situational glimpses, I'm going to briefly detail what happened.

     Let me first say that I have forgiveness in my heart for my biological mother.  After spending time examining it, and getting bits and pieces of information from my father, I realized my mother couldn't help who she was.  I don't know if it was all "nature."  I don't know if it was all "nurture."  I would put my money on it that it was a combination of the two, but my mother abused me from the time I was twelve until I left home at age sixteen.  It was verbal abuse at first, but then became physical.  The stories I've told in this blog are all from before that age, but you could see where our relationship was headed.

     I have worked very hard to achieve some sort of "normalcy" to my life.  Anyone who was belittled constantly starts to believe their own unworthiness.  Any one beaten starts to wonder if they deserved it and isn't fit to have better in their lives.  It has taken great amounts of self-examination to function as well as I currently believe I do.  I am grateful that I have a wonderful marriage, in-laws who love me, a decent relationship with my Dad, and that I don't breakdown at the sign of difficulty or become riddled with anger like I used to.  I've cried alot.  I've had to face who I am honestly.  I have had to change my mindset habitually every day until positivity and love truly became part of my thought patterns.  I had to love myself, and my past, for better or worse.  I am fully reconciled with that part of my life...

     ...Now to the point...

     I have a favorite saying as of late.  "The apple didn't fall far from the tree."  See? Genetics...

     I have tried to roll down the hill and into the village below in my best attempt to get away from the tree, and become something greater, like an apple pie...mmmmmmm...apple pie....but I digress.  One of the other apples, however, is trying desperately to get me to be part of the bushel again.  Remember how I just said I was fully reconciled with that part of my life?  Maybe I'm just okay with the "tree...."

     ... I hadn't thought about the other apple...

     I was amazed at all the pain this person, uh, "apple" was able to resurrect in my life, but I really shouldn't have been surprised.  I started to see my biological mother in everything this person did.  Over the last year I have relived every single indiscretion taken out upon me as a teenager through watching this person's actions. Sometimes I would even be the recipient of private message insults and threats when to the rest of the world they would come off as a delightful, knowledgeable, and maybe even trustworthy.  Knowing how they behaved, I had tried for so many years to distance myself. Technology has made the world so small, and it's harder than just not answering phone calls any more.  I found myself going back to that bad place in my memories because of the distress that this person was trying to create for me, and even a few others around them.  Every part of the seed of this apple had come directly from the roots of the tree. Much like my biological mother, they just couldn't help themselves...

     ...and then I realized something...

     I am no longer that abused little girl.  I have forgiven the "tree."  I now have to forgive the "apple" because it was born of the "tree" and has never been able to see how to roll down the hill and into the village to become something greater (like the apple pie).  I want to say something most people don't realize about forgiveness.  They think that forgiveness means you have to forget and pretend like nothing ever happened.  Not true.  Forgiveness is for them, but ultimately, it's really for you.  It's an understanding of why that person did what they did so you can move on with your life and realize it wasn't because you were a bad person or you deserved it or any of the things that can hold you back from your life.  The forgiveness process includes, even though you understand why someone is doing what they are doing to you, never letting them have that option again...ever...

     There are some ways to escape technology and to keep others from harassing you. I think I'm figuring out how to do that while continuing with the more peaceful person I've become and life I have.  I've just rolled too far away from the tree to be put back in the bushel. 

     Where's the ice cream?  Say what you want, apple; you can't touch me.  I'm a pie now!

     Happy Fishing!

      --Red

P.S. - Some of you may wonder why I refer to my mother as my "biological mother."  I don't want her to be confused with the wonderful stepmother I had when I moved in with her and my Dad after leaving home at sixteen.  I have been known to call my stepmother my mother, so that's why the distinction.  I think having that stable home with her, my Dad, and my foster sister aided this "apple" to roll down the hill. For that I will forever be thankful and feel blessed.
 

 
    








      

"...Had just settled down for a long winter's nap..."

     There is this Christmas cartoon that I try to catch every year if I can find it on called "Twas the Night Before Christmas."  It's based on the the famous poem, of course, but the story involves a clock maker, Joshua Trundle, his family, and the family of mice, who incidentally can talk, that live in his house.  One of the mice children wrote a letter to Santa Claus that said that he was a fraud, Santa gets mad, and they all have to figure out how to make Santa happy again. Long story short they write Santa a song that is supposed to play though the town square clock at midnight, but they had problems making it work, so on Christmas Eve they give up hope and just go to bed...

     ...That's what I did this Christmas.

     After my last post, I realized I had some serious going overs and getting pasts to do. I had four full days, starting on December 22nd, to really think about an immensely hard 2012 through which I had, just like Joshua Trundle...and the mice, given up hope. The cartoon actually ends with Joshua reciting the "'Twas the Night Before Christmas" while Santa arrives because one of the mouse children fixes the clock and it plays the song and Santa is happy again. My husband Eric always loves the part when it says, "...had just settled down for a long winter's nap."

     Eric just really enjoys a good nap. I started to wonder when, on the weekends, I had stopped napping...

     I used to look at weekends as a time to relax, but somewhere over the last five years, I started looking at weekends as extra time to get a long list of "To-Dos" done. I had completely over scheduled my life and by the time I realized it, I was already too deep. It's taken the better part of the last six months to try and dig out of some of the responsibilities and over committing I've done.

     I have a theory about over scheduled people. They are so because they don't want down time. They don't want down time because that's when you have time to process the things that happen in your life. The only reason you don't want to process the things that happen in your life is they are just too painful. It's more than just a theory, I guess, because truly that was me. By the time I figured out I wanted to deal with everything I'd been avoiding, I couldn't find the down time to do just that. So somewhere around May, I started shedding activities.

     The problem I then had was while I was busy processing long time pains and issues, 2012 was doing its worse. I'm not going to say I had a totally bad year, because there were some truly awesome things and I came a long way as a person, but while still figuring out what had happened in my past, present day unpleasantness just kept coming. I almost feel as if the more sound person I had become was being tested and I honestly can't say that I didn't feel like waving the white flag in surrender...

     ...so I settled down for a long winter's nap. I'm not saying I spent the whole four days in bed, it was Christmas after all; there are lights to see and dinners to be had! I did, however, take as many opportunities as I needed to be alone. I took as many opportunities as I needed to think. As many as I needed to cry.

     I had a surprising burst of tears and emotion Christmas Eve. To be honest, I wanted to be done processing so badly that I kind of shut it off the night before, but I got hit unexpectedly by a situation that had been part of everything wrong over the last year, so I went off to take yet another "nap." I remember as I sat there, tears uncontrollably streaming, that I was also praying. I remember saying, "You have to show me something tonight. I need to see it." What I needed to see so badly was the hope I hadn't been feeling a whole lot of lately. I needed to see the Holy Spirit that can only be found within creation.

     Going to church on Christmas Eve has always been a part of my life since I was a small child. I always found it to be a special, full of light in the world, and peace for all people gathering. As you can guess, I wasn't really feeling it this year, but it was tradition, so I got myself ready. I used to be a door greeter before I taught classes at church, and found myself back in my "old job" this particular evening. So, I bet you're thinking, wow, here is the unhappiest person in the world on Christmas Eve, and now she's working the door? I know...yeah... I was thinking that too!

     There is something to be said for immersing yourself in humanity when you feel at your lowest. I had stripped it all away. I had allowed myself to feel the pain of the tremendous loss that has occurred in my life over the last seven months. In the end, I showered, got dressed, and limped spiritually into church searching for a Christmas miracle.  As it turned, I would also be the only person who volunteered to work the door.

     Not only did I learn how to say, "Merry Christmas" in probably an estimated seven different ways, but I received something completely priceless that night. I received "thank you" and other kindnesses from strangers. I received hugs from friends I hadn't seen in awhile as, well, I suppose we've all been stretched thin by every day life. The best thing I received though was seeing faces, sad and lacking the hope that should be shining in their eyes on a Christmas Eve night, brighten when I would ask how they were this evening or say, "Merry Christmas." It was hope. It was a small, but very significant glimmer of hope...

     ...Suddenly, I felt like I was shown what I asked for earlier that day.

     I have been so much more at peace after that night. I'm not completely done sorting everything out, but I am on the mend. One thing for sure, and maybe this is a sort of New Year's Resolution, is that every weekend, no matter what, I'm going to try to take a "nap..."

     ...a long winter's nap...oh yeah...I definitely see more of those in my future for this coming year...

'Twas the night before New Years, and all through this place
No more will be processed, no more need for space.
The problems of last year are still in my sight,
But I have new hope that will get me through nights.

I understand what's needed, I'll take more time to think.
I won't carry around hurts 'til my heart starts to sink.
So me in my snuggie, and iPad in lap,
Promise to settle down for many more "naps."

While grabbing the starfish, there will be ups and downs.
I'll share them here with you, we are all "ocean" bound!
So, here are my wishes, huge smile as I write.
"HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!"

Happy Fishing!!

--Red

Fear is the Mindkiller - Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water

      For anyone that may have thought my fear of Jaws at the bottom of the swimming pool from the first blog in the "Fear in the Mindkiller" series was over the top irrational, I came across this meme of the Paranoid Parrot ...

     Once again, I'm surprised how many others that movie effected negatively.  I mean with a movie tagline like "You'll never go back in the water again," what did everyone expect?  But I digress...before I even really started my post!

      I've been thinking a lot over the last few weeks about how this whole process of writing things down to get them out and examine them is so crucial to the whole grabbing the starfish thing. I've never been one to keep a journal for cathartic purposes, but I guess that the function of many a blog in this day and age.  I started this blog a year ago with the hopes in finding my purpose in life and hopefully helping someone along the way.  The biggest thing I've learned?  I need to get out of my own way...well...that and that other people share alot of the same fears and roadblocks to the ocean.


     I guess I also really learned how to get our of my own way which is just as important as the need to do so.  Once I stripped the first two fears away, I started finding and addressing more. I have mild OCD, which I've mentioned before, and hoarder tendencies that, thankfully, are not great enough to get me on a show on A&E.  I am also deathly afraid of not getting enough sleep or setting my house on fire.  While these would make interesting stories, It's not that I don't want to tell them out of some sort of shame.  It's just that the outcome would be the same.  I now understand better where the basis for my fears come from. I've learned to deconstruct them and take small, life changing steps, to get beyond them.  When I look back, I realize I've done a lot of talking about small steps.  It's been the easiest way to overcome overwhelmedness, develop a road back to health, come to terms with past pain or really just put any plans I have into action.

    My high school friend, Geoff, recently posted a note about fear in Facebook when talking about a situation from his life.  "The human mind is an amazing and adaptive thing, and I like to think that in my life, like with skydiving I have overcome most of my fears. I still have an healthy fear of snakes, and a few other fears like that, but for the most part, I have no overwhelming phobias. ...It took me several years to overcome my fear of leaving, something I know that I had wanted and needed to do to continue my life and make myself happy, but fear kept me in that situation much longer that I needed to be in it, fear of the unknown, fear of what I would do, fear of what she would do, fear of how she would react, fear of being alone. But finally it came to the point where I had to let go of the airplane wing, and again, after a couple months of panic, I am much happier than I had been."

     "Several years"...baby steps...but he did it.  You just have to know it's not an overnight fix, but a lifetime lifestyle change for the better if you can just get started...

     So everyone say it with me once again...
    
     I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer.
     Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
     I will face my fear.
     I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
    And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
    Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
    Only I will remain.

     "Only I will remain"...I recently remembered that when I was a little girl, one of my favorite games was to splash around in a pool and pretend I was a seal.  I want to remember what that time in my life felt like emotionally. I would just swim around with excitement and a love for whatever was next on life's journey.   After the last year, I've gotten to the beach and so time to start wading in...I can't let fear and any lack of momentum stop me...unless...




     ACK!!!!!   ...remember the Jaws2 movie tagline was, "Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water..."



     Okay...that's better....baby steps...whew...


     Happy Fishing,

     --Red

Fear is the Mindkiller - Part 2 - The Hunger Games

     I mentioned in my last post that I was noticing other fears that may be hampering or could conceivable diminish my ability to grab the "starfish." (Fear is the Mindkiller - March 15, 2012 ).  Time to start getting Jaws out of the swimming pool (you totally won't get that if you didn't read the last post...), one fear at a time...

     Here we go.  Fear #1...

     I don't discredit the popularity of the books and the movie by the same title, The Hunger Games.  The character of the young Katniss Everdeen overcoming insurmountable odds, that may not have been forever in her favor, to be the victor, along with Peeta Mellark, of the annual games is inspiring and incredible.  A lot of stories have these great heroic characters though.  Sure, the writing is brilliant, but what makes people really dig into this particular story.

     We understand their fears and motivations. We want to see what happens to the characters we are then emotionally invested in with that understanding. We want to know how the story ends and how those fears are pushed through and resolved...

     There are a couple of topics of fear that resound throughout this novel.  The fear of death.  The fear of oppression by government. The fear of loss. The fear, as possibly suggested by the title, of going hungry.  Katniss' last words before the games to her friend Gale are, "Don't let them starve," referring to her mother and younger sister, Prim, whose place she took in the games.  She said it with such an urgency, with such a crack in her voice, that she was more afraid of that particular notion than of dying at the hands of one of the other twenty three participants known as "tributes."

     Eating is something we have to do to survive.  There is no choice in the matter. However, did you know there are a total of approximately twelve different kinds of eating disorders that keep people from leading normal lives and threaten that very survival instinct?  It is said that eating disorders are caused by a combination of biological, environmental, and psychological abnormalities.  I would definitely agree with psychological.  People with eating disorders may have an unnatural fear of gaining weight, so they regurgitate food.  They may fear being alone or emotionally uncomfortable and use food as medication.  They may just fear going hungry...

     My particular unhealthy relationship with food started in college.  I only had a set amount of money coming in few times a month, and well, sometimes it just wasn't enough.  There were a few days I remember not eating.  There was a time I remember getting sick because Burger King had this special of six cheeseburgers for a dollar and I ate them over three days...guess what happened on day three?  They were pretty gnarly by then but I still ate them anyway because I needed food.  I guess the point is I never knew when I would eat again or have enough money to do so. I guess I did know.  Once for sure every two weeks and if I budgeted well, then more.

     Let's fast forward to today.  I have a great job.  So does my husband.  We are no where near starving and truly blessed.  However, I am absolutely terrified of feeling hungry.  I get horrible anxiety if my stomach growls....You know what my big downfall is?  Free food at the office.  I feel like I absolutely have to eat it.  I mean, if I don't who will.  It can't be wasted; it costs money.  Besides if I don't eat it I may go hungry later.  I am also as you might guess "a plate cleaner."  It would make me stressed to either not finish my entire plate at a restaurant and let them toss it, or not at least take home the leftovers.  I sometimes do the latter and let the leftovers purposely go bad so I don't feel so bad about tossing them.  I do that as well with frozen dinners I decide later don't look as tasty as when I saw them in the grocery store.   How can you throw things away though when so many are starving and you paid good money for them?  The answer would be to buy less, right?  Create less waste and save money. Well, then I may starve later would be my response to that.  It's a vicious cycle...  

      ...Even if I'm full, I eat.  After all, I may go hungry at some point...

     It's funny. My husband and I went to see The Hunger Games last weekend. We went to a place called Gold Class Cinema. Reclining seats, blankets, pillows, and gourmet food! Needless to say I was overfull by the time we walked out of there. I actually thought of the irony of eating so much food during a movie about kids killing each other over it essentially.  I also thought about how I knew how full I got last time I was there, how actually painful it was, and how I didn't want to do it again.  Nope.  I sure went ahead and stretched the limits...and my stomach!  I just can't help myself and it was just as painful as it was the first time I did it.  Remember though, in my head, if I don't eat alot, I may get hungry.
  
     I think many of us in America have at least one unhealthy association with food or another.  As women we are told that a breakup with a boyfriend heralds a pint of ice cream in your favorite flavor.  There is a reason that food laden in high caloric content is often times called "comfort food."  Who hasn't found themselves reaching for some chocolate or chips when stressed or bored at the office.  It's really hard in this day and age to change our mindset and look at food as simply nourishment for our bodies. 


    I really don't know what I do about this and am not leaving this post particularly wrapped up.  I do make sure I have more healthy choices around me.  I'm surrounded with fruit, vegetables, and weight watchers meals or 100 calorie packs.  It's probably why I'm not, as of this point, obese.  I need to not doubt that I will eat again later in the day or the next day.

     I do know I feel better for having written this out so I can be more aware of it.  I catch myself in these thoughts more often and talk myself out of taking that extra bite or serving.  How unusual for this all around happen around Easter.   There is alot of food at my house around Easter from chocolate eggs to awesome, delicious, smoked meats.  I may have had one too many cookies, but I didn't go back for seconds.  They are leftovers for tonight's dinner. I didn't get hungry later.   If we don't finish the leftovers?  I won't make myself sick; out they go. 

...Maybe I'll make a dandelion salad would be nice with some roasted squirrel and goat cheese on some local bakery bread throw aways for dinner...okay, maybe not, but I now have a starting point...and if I'm going to be easier on my body, feel better, and move forward, I have to start somewhere.

   Ladies and Gentlemen...Jaws is leaving the building...uh...pool!


Happy Fishing!

--Red



   



   

    

I Am the Bulldog

     There is this Kid Rock song called "I Am the Bullgod."  My husband, Eric, and I like to make a habit, if we can, of twisting song lyrics as if we were amateur Weird Al Yankovics.  So, frequently this song comes out as "I Am the Bulldog" complete with a new set of lyrics detailing a day in the life of our furry four-legged friends.

     My favorite breed of dog is the Australian Cattle Dog.  They are loyal, intelligent, focused, independent, and sturdy dogs.  The breed actually, speaking of bulldogs, are a mix of bully breeds, like Bull Terriers, plus Dalmatian and Dingo or Kelpie.

    I am the bulldog...

     This is Dali.  She is actually an Australian Cattle Dog/Border Collie mix, but trust me, she got nearly all ACD!  Look at that scary intensity...and sometimes that scary intensity goes horribly, horribly wrong.  A combo of bad socialization and physical abuse before we took Dali into our home leads her to inappropriately focus all of that Cattle Dog intensity...not that she could understand or be held accountable this...she's a dog.  They honestly don't have the greatest of cognitive abilities.  Aside from any innate behavior, they only know what the world around them has shown them.  Dali, until she came to live with us, was undeniably not shown great things by the world.

     It's been my job over the last 12 years of her life to manager her in such a way as to help her make better decisions.  Most times the issues we have with Dali is when she fixates on something that irritates her. The extreme tunnel vision she exhibits is incredible. There is no calling her off it; whatever it is, she is going to worry it to death, one way or another.  She just can't let it go.
  
     ...A combo of bad socialization and physical abuse...sounds like my personal rearing actually.  Eric makes comments all the time when Dali does something particularly "quirky" how much she is like "her mama."  While I've been known to shoot Eric a dirty look for these type of comments, but unfortunately he's right.

      I've had problems with my back again lately.  I know that my recovery will be a long process in my head, but often times, my heart just doesn't know that.  I don't feel or look as physically weak as I am, so when set-backs arise as an ever-present reminder, I get deeply, deeply disappointed.  A feeling of such great hopelessness becomes created and all I can think about is, "I've done all I can.  Every option has been exhausted.  I can't believe this is how it's going to be..."  I just keep articulating how disappointed I am over and over again. I just can't let it go.  I seem to have the same tunnel vision that my dog gets when something upsets her...until someone "manages" me.

     In this case, the "managing" came in the form of friends present during a "I'm disappointed" lament who were able to remind me of the physical ailments they have overcome that they weren't always sure would be resolved.  The ailments that took trying different things until something clicked.  The ailments to where there is no other option just wasn't an option...

     I try not to be that person at work.  You know the one.  The one that complains about a situation, but voices no idea on how to change it.  They just want to complain.  I'm not sure why that hasn't crossed over more into my private life.  It's not that I am actually complaining alot, but I'm not exactly looking for other avenues either.  Maybe the pain makes it hard for me to see that there could be another way of dealing with the problem...maybe I understand my dog more than I thought I did...

     Dali is getting better with age.  She's not as "angry" anymore, but she still needs managing from time to time.  I guess I am and do, too.  If I'm going to swim out into that ocean and grab the starfish,  I'm going to have learn to go out into open waters where the possibilities are endless.  I may need someone monitoring the oxygen tank, but I am hoping to eventually be a skilled enough diver to navigate.

     I am definitely the bulldog...I am loyal, intelligent, focused, independent, and...sturdy...and I think I'll focus on starting a Pilates work out today...
   

Happy fishing!

--Red