Do You Know

Woke up early to see my man off to training for his new job. We spend a lot of time together  and though it will be a shock to be apart for a few days, it'll give me a chance to sort out what's going on inside my head.

I've been bugging my chat friends about what I should do with myself. It's not that I expect them to have a solution, but I find often the conversation sparks something and helps out. There's also this thing about getting a different perspective.

It seems I have to do a lot of thinking and talking in the gap between acting on my goals. A whole bunch of "hurry up and wait," permeates my life right now.

Murry had to jump through a bunch of hoops for his new job. A lot of driving to a town about 90 minutes away. He's driving a truck so they needed him to pass a medical check. Had to see a specialist about an issue, but it was nothing to worry over. Just delays, delays.

With him working, I'll be on my own a lot more. That's okay, I enjoy my own company. I might get a job too. I could do something to fill my time. It's not as easy for me to find work as it is for a person with closer to 20/20 vision.

I heard a lecture on working for the disabled. We don't often get "starter" jobs like other people. We can't just walk into a fast food joint and start flipping burgers.

The closest I came to that starter job was when I answered the switchboard in high school. I did like it. I got a couple of babysitting jobs from doing that. I liked school, but I liked working more. It was easier and less stress.

As an adult, I've mostly worked for myself. Not on my own, but with a husband/partner. Now I write, which is a self employment thing too.

I guess I want to be creative with words and pictures. Writing, frustratingly has a lot of rejection associated with it. I spoke to a "life coach" a couple of years ago. She said that I don't have to be a "rejection handler." Get Murry to deal with the rejection. I could just be the writer. That hasn't worked out as yet.

Yesterday, I showed the fiction on this blog to someone and they were begging me to write more. She told me it was frustrating to want to know more and not have it available. That's a huge motivational ego boost.

I got an idea what to do with the story, so I think next post will be another installment. Writing fiction draws me into that universe. I start seeing scenes play out between the text. Same thing happens when I read other people's good fiction.

Yeah, I am in a writer place. Now to work on profiting from my talents.

Kind comments encouraged.

Beautiful

Someone made a joke about dying from cancer and someone else found that offensive. I let it slide because I think we need to confront big scary things with humor.

When I had cancer last year, I asked people to make me laugh. The big scary procedures deeply freaked me out. I sat and shook and cried myself to sleep. Real, raw deep emotions welled up and I let them roam free. I find it helps me.

My way may not be for everyone. Whatever works for you, do it that way.

I wonder if people thought I was mentally challenged when I went to my CAT scan in kitty ears and a kitty tshirt? Or maybe they thought that when I was wearing pajamas and a robe standing outside the pharmacy? I care that they think I'm not smart, but not enough to take off the kitty ears.

Some things I feel deeper about than others. I want to be thought of as smart, knowledgeable and kind. I have given up wishing to be thought beautiful, fashionable or like other people.

Maybe given up is wrong. I care less about beauty, fashion or "fitting in." I try and live my values.

What things do you care most about when being judged by other people?  Do you respond in ways that are consistent with your views or do you bow to social pressure to conform? I totally get that urge. I conform sometimes. Just to avoid the hassle.

I wonder if one should do the hassle more and more? Get yourself used to it so that the world doesn't run you over and challenge you quite so much. Maybe that's why I keep confronting issues. Maybe it teaches me how to live my values and keep myself mentally fit.

Kind comments encouraged.

Beautiful Day

A friend posted on Facebook about how she felt injured by troll comments. I wrote about being called ugly in Hall of Ugliness. This got me to thinking about how we feel about insults.

Some of us were raised by family that thought nothing of "teasing" with words. It hurt deeply to be called a "brat" as an adult. And I've written before that my sisters and mom called me and my brother black sheep. He wasn't there to hear it, but I'm sure he got similar things when he was around.

These kinds of experiences install trigger buttons in our psyche. People will tell you that you're giving your power away by reacting to people who push these buttons. Though I do want you to be aware there is some truth in that, it's only a small part of what's going on.

I'm angry that I have to work so hard to overcome what was done to me. It's not fair. People like my mom should be suffering and sensitive and in pain for the problems they caused.

No, I don't really think that. I think that unkind people need MORE kindness. Accident or intentional, I'm the one with the broken psyche and I am the one that has to go through a process to recover.

I am on the constant hunt for the trigger buttons and their connection. I challenge those thoughts and put the "more facts" along side the trigger.

For me, I cannot seem to erase the buttons entirely, but I try and change the reaction. Instead of feeling bad for being ugly, I flash past feeling like I am ugly to thinking about the times when people have said I was pretty. I pump up the weight and balance the argument.

Murry's comments get more weight than any other. I trust him to be a positive influence on me. In our 14 years, we've spent no more than a couple weeks apart. He's never said a thing to assault my character.

My daddy admired my smarts and valued my ability to sort through my problems. Again, he never used words as weapons.

Neither Murry nor my dad act perfect. They have flaws that I am aware of and sometimes irritated me. I live in a real world with real people around me. Here's the thing; if ya can't say somethin nice, then ya aint supposed to say nothin at all. - Thumper.

We are all an imperfect creation made up of our experiences. Learn how to turn those buttons and triggers into armor and draw bridges. Deflect arbitrary insults into the designer thought sections of your mind. Pull up the bridge whenever the insults get to be too much.

You don't have to end friendships if someone has a bad day and says something rude. Just let them stew in their pain for a while. When YOU can handle it, try and sort it. Turn off the internet for a day. Screen your calls.

Sometimes friendships DO need to end and give yourself time to grieve over that. I give people lots of chances and ask them outright to stop doing things that hurt me. If they can't or wont, I know I gave them lots of chances.

I work very hard at not doing what I learned. I work very hard at deciding to have peace in my heart for everyone who caused me harm. I believe deeply in what John Bradshaw says, "Your parents are either sick or doing the best that they can." I believe this of everyone.

Notice when an insult hurts deeply. Set about finding the wires to that trigger and paralleling them with wires to good thoughts. Let yourself know it's okay to be offended and insulted but turn it into a powerful force for good. Make lemonade.

Kind comments encouraged.

Side By Side

The ability to think fills me with such joy. It's a rare occasion when I cannot entertain or at least comfort myself with a casual stroll along the back roads of my brain. My brain sparks with a blinding brightness.

I first came across the theory of right and left brain differentiation in an art book. "Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain" suggested that our thinking gets in the way of rendering art. If we view the world as merely shapes, shadows and hues, we can draw anything. If we truly look at the world, and then put that on paper or canvas, this opens our creative right side to the possibilities around us. 

Some studies of stutterers suggest that speaking comes from the left brain, but singing emanates from the right hemisphere. Often one person's speaking trouble goes away with learning to speak in a sing song way. I suspect that doing so makes new brain connections. This makes the speaking more stable. 

As I have expressed with my "mental house" self awareness, I became conscious of very strong different parts of my brain. I realized I am both creative (right brain) and logical (left brain). I feel they equalize to roughly the same amount of influence over my life. 

Though I'm not sure if it's nature or intention, my left brain has control most of the time. I'm very creative, musical and emotional, but I do try and push those things to an "appropriate" time. This control sometimes gets out of hand. 

Left brain views his way as the "better, safer" way to be. Yes, I think of my brain as male. I love my female self and have no interest in being any other gender. My brain simply seems "male" to me. Lefty being in control works well until he becomes a tyrant. Righty sometimes has to throw a tantrum in order to remind Lefty to let him have his turn. 

My right side is all about fun, play, creativity and emotional expression. Lefty believes that I cannot sing all that well. He seems to keep track of the rejection in my life. Righty thinks that singing's purpose isn't based on the quality of the song, but on the quality of the expression. 

Both sides add amazing value to make all of me shine. Lefty keeps calm in a crisis, makes sure the bills are paid, loves doing math and understanding chemistry. Righty has a connection to everyone and everything. My right side comes up with the ideas and the left puts them in practice. 

After Righty throws his fit, Lefty gets a clue and grudgingly gives up his hand on my life rudder. Righty doesn't want to be in control ALL the time. He readily gives it back when he has had his fun. 

As I integrate these two friends, the emotional upheavals reduce. They're both beloved aspects. They reside in my mental house too. 

What kinds of connections do you make between your different selves? 

Kind and informative comments welcome!

Logical

Sometimes life throws us so much shit that we have little choice but to retreat into our heads. We keep people away, at arms length in the vain hope that they can't reach us.

I do this. I crave understanding and interaction, but I do not want to be put down or used. I remain aloof and even hostile to the idea of being around others.

A friend of mine told me that in his younger years, he retreated into such a logical being that people thought he was Mr. Spock. He learned to protect himself from painful memories by denying the pain entirely. Though no one can keep such a defense up forever, it''s a very valid strategy for survival.

Later, after he regained an emotional life, he experienced the Supertramp song "Logical" at a talent show. The words made him cry at the memory of his experiences.

Questions run so deep, for such a simple man. I know it sounds absurd  but please tell me who I am. These deep questions inspire a deep longing for connection. Both to others and to one's own inner self.

Though I have never met my friend, I feel he's a kindred spirit on the path to self awareness.

Did you have a logical phase? How did it help you get over pain? What songs make you break down into puddles just thinking about them?

Kind comments encouraged.

Talk Too Much

I love to talk about what's on my mind. For a lot of my young life that involved sorting through what was happening to me. Though I have no memory of threats related to not telling about abuse, I can only guess that something was said.

I didn't tell my mother the babysitter lady beat on me. I only told my mother abut the sexual abuse when she separated from him. She did deny that he could do that. When I was an adult she told me she did that to protect me. That's total bullshit.

When I was a kid, we didn't have all those talk shows like Oprah, but we did have daytime shows sort of like The Talk or The View. Only usually hosted by men or a couple. Guests would sit down and talk about their lives on particular topics.

Because these daytime shows were mostly on while I was at school, I only saw them on rare occasions  This one called "Hour Magazine," hosted by an actor named Gary Collins was one of my favorites. They had segments kind of set up like the night time talk shows where they'd interview a celebrity, have a cooking segment and possibly a new product demonstration.

One day, I remember I was about 12. They had a dark haired lady talking about being an alcoholic. How once she quit drinking that all these memories of her difficult childhood started to come up. She had been molested and started to drink to suppress all the confusing feelings that comes from surviving that kind of childhood trauma.

She said that in order to recover, she had to talk about and deal with those feelings. I watched my mother and her husbands drink and realized they must be covering something up as well.

I never wanted to drink and this made me realize that I had to talk about and deal with my own experiences. I see that I bet I drove people, especially my mother, crazy with my talking.

Mom and my sister Kathey constantly told me to "stop dwelling on the past." I wouldn't, couldn't stop. I wanted to be happy. I didn't see how being silent helped make anyone happy.

So I sought out every chance for guidance. I went to counseling and support groups. I count myself lucky to have found a couple of good therapy people who helped me sort through major and minor traumas and to realize that I can be okay.

Because my family and my ex husband all gave me the message that I talked too much, I felt somewhat guilty about talking about my past. I still did it, I still do it, but that guilt was a bit of a sting.

Meeting my Murry changed that guilt during a drive one day. I noticed I was talking a lot and I said "I'm babbling too much, I'd better shut up. " Murry casually says "Talk as much as you want, when you're done, you'll stop."

The acceptance in that simple statement still blows me away. I don't even think my therapy people gave me the permission to talk as much as I needed to.

I sort things out by talking. Repeating the same story, reduces its emotional impact. It hurts less. It becomes a historical account rather than a painful memory.

Pain unexpressed, festers in dark shadows that lead to emotional breakdowns. Murry said, I see your pain and because I didn't cause it, I can hear it. It's weird that as an atheist I discovered the value of confession. Only I'm not expressing the burden of my sin, but letting go of the weight of my personal suffering.

I'm a gonna lay down, this heavy load.

Kind comments encouraged.

Papa, can you see me?

I woke up a couple days ago realizing I have a very simple dream that I cannot find any reason to be afraid of. I want to be seen and understood.

Not everyone will understand the crazy scheme mind I live with, and that's fine. I ask that people ask me to clarify myself. I don't expect anyone to do anything beyond those two things.

How do I want to be seen? I want the world to be aware of my existence. I want to participate in social customary greetings and be included in social activities.

When I was a kid, my differences separated me from others. Though this did lead me to find my own posse of buddies, it's time to e part of the general goings on within the world.

As for being understood, I'd like to know that what I am saying here in this blog, on Twitter or Facebook, gets read. I don't even care of other's disagree with me. If people did, and they had a better argument than mine, I can and will change my mind.

Sometimes I take a point of view to explore the ideas related to that topic. For instance, I heard a joke recently that struck me as totally true. Hitler did one excellent thing, he killed Hitler. That made me think, after I stopped laughing.

I like to think strange thoughts and sometimes opposing thoughts. I like peanuts and chocolate but not peanut butter and chocolate. That seems weird to me but it's my truth.  Though I love peanut butter separate from chocolate.

So, see me and understand me. If you don't understand, ask me to explain in a way you can understand. There's a chance you'll still not "get" me and that's okay. I know that I'm odd with what I ponder.

Kind comments encouraged.