Swept Under

I’m really struggling with some confusing emotions I have been feeling for quite some time now. The anxious feeling I have in my gut and chest makes me nervous and unsure of where to turn next. It involves the person that I have loved for the last 12 years of my life. I was 20 when I met him and I had a 4 year old daughter. That’s a entirely different story, but the confusion I am experiencing at present involves him.

I know I have no need to delve into all the gritty details about our marriage; but I do know that the quality of our marriage is nowhere near where I dream of it being. We both bring with us long childhood pains of abandonment and loss, and we have antagonized and survived our triggers against each other for over a decade now. My soul does not feel as complete and radiant as it knows how and loves how to feel. It saddens me when I realize I have to stop denying the feeling that my love is dimming my inner light. What I want is for him to make it shine brighter, but I realize that it is only myself that can allow my light to shine.

I have struggled with a plethora of issues in our relationship. We’ve recognized it as a continuous cycle and talk about it as such. We’ve gone to counseling, off and on, for years. We have stood by and supported each other through the discovery of deeply rooted pains. I have noticed a pattern of the one I love making his discoveries, but choosing not to grow from them. I have noticed the only times he digs down and does the work is the one hour every week or two that we sit in our counselor’s office. I have written and talked with friends about my sadness, emptiness, and desire for genuine, true, emotional intimacy for the same number of years. I have told him how important it is for me that issues do not get ‘swept under the rug’.

There is something else that adds to my confusion. I was reading the words of Eckhart Tolle and his explanations of the egoistic mind never feeling enough. No person, place, situation, or circumstance is ever enough. So I questioned myself. Am I suffering from my ego? When I try to talk to my love about my concerns, he tells me that I am just trying to find any excuse not to be with him. I don’t think that’s true at all. But is my ego making me feel that way? In my soul, I truly believe that the issues that are hindering the peaceful love I crave are real and are crumbling our foundation. I love him so very much. But I love myself, too. I feel that my ‘I Am presence’ is drifting away into the abyss that is being fed by an unhealthy marriage.

I have asked the Universe to help me find my truth. I have found myself begging and yearning for “a sign” to let me know. I find it endearing that so many of us just want “a sign” to help us know what is right.

I must share one story of our last counseling session, two days ago. I had taken with me a book that a good friend loaned me. It was about addictions, intimacy, honesty and so much else. I finished the book in two days. I ravished the words that I read, because it made me feel like I was not crazy. The stories and examples were reminiscent of so many that have been the same in our relationship over the years. I took the book with me, and told the counselor and my husband that I think this book was enlightening to issues, addictions, etc. that I felt he was harboring inside. I told them I felt like I just can’t keep going down this road anymore. I can’t keep feeling this way inside. I shared with them my feelings of the need for something drastic (such as my leaving) to open his eyes and realize that my pleas had truth to them. Our counselor said how sad it would make her feel if I did leave, because I would be abandoning him. Remember; we both have an immense amount of abandonment and loss haunting us from our childhoods. But what if I stayed? Would that be some form of me abandoning my own true self? I told them that I wanted him to read the book, that it was important to me because maybe it would allow him to see my perspective. He said that he would. As we left, I handed him the book to take with him and suggested maybe during the days when he had a few free minutes he could read through it.

Okay…also remember that it is crucial to me that issues do not get ‘swept under the rug’. Well, I borrowed his truck yesterday and started to wonder where he had put the book. I looked around, and saw not just an emotional sign; but a physical and literal example of this issue being swept under the rug. The book is stuffed under his back seat. He literally hid it away. He can’t even see it.

So…is my egoistic mind just feeling that this person and circumstance is not enough for me? Or am I really to the point, which could be past due, of doing something drastic, hoping to enlighten him to my perspective. Are my childhood issues causing me to look for any excuse to find an escape from this relationship? Or do I need to tread down that terribly difficult road in order to find my genuine truth and will I need to do it alone? I cannot keep feeling this way.

by Candy

Forgiveness

“Forgiveness is the finding again of a lost possession.” ~Friedrich Von Schiller

I am in the midst of trying to figure out my own forgiveness. I have chosen to forgive my husband for infidelities and deceptions. And while I have taken the step of forgiveness, it is challenging to lead with my heart out of love. I find myself all day long, making a conscious effort to keep my heart open, and not close it off to things that I find painful or agonizing. I know I need to allow these negative things to move through me instead of holding on to them and having them get stuck in the stacks of other issues I have tucked away in the corners. (I’ve been cleaning those corners out a lot lately!) But doing that takes an underlying motivation that can only be driven by the genuine love I know my husband and I have for each other. What we have discovered along our journey together thus far, is that we are both survivors of, and adults living with, abandonment issues. It is these issues that dig up something emotional deep inside of us, tightening our stomachs and making our hearts ache, that cause us to sometimes do or say things that we know are hurting those that we love. But we do them anyway. I am guilty of this myself. I have been in my husband’s shoes; and he has been in mine. We fight our best fight to maintain a strong foundation. We face the same childhood pains; from different perspectives; but it is through those wounds that we nurture and love one another with both sensitivity and strength. We strive to understand each other’s stories and have written so many of our own together over the past twelve years. And we have compassion for one another.

There are times when I feel it would be so much easier to obsess over how I’ve been hurt, and why–and ‘to make things right”. It is during those times that I find myself opening my heart and urging my fears to just pass on through. That fearful energy will cycle its course and leave room for the more pure and brilliant energy that I am striving to maintain in my marriage.

Now, I suppose I must ask you to forgive me for putting my personal issues out there; but there is something inside of me that tells me I need to expose myself emotionally and spiritually. When the words find their way to the page, I am urged to share them. I hope your hearts are feeling open when there are opportunities for forgiveness. Love is a powerful, painful and beautiful thing.

Cleaning Closets

I have an aversion to cleaning.  I can’t explain why, because I always feel so relieved and joyful anytime I finish a cleaning project.  Perhaps it comes from a childhood of a mother obsessed with clean; to a point way beyond any definition of normal.  Anytime I would clean my room, dishes, the bathroom, or any other project she assigned me to, she would come inspect my work.  It never passed her standards, regardless of how much time and elbow grease I sweated over.  It got to a point where I said to hell with it, I guess.  It’s getting better as I grow into my adult years, now that I have children I want to set an example for.  We have a very clean home; I just don’t like doing it.

I always hear how closet cleaning is therapeutic, and good for the soul.  Anytime a friend makes a statement about it, or when I read it in a book, I get a discouraged look on my face and think, “Ugh, what a chore!”  But that tiny little voice in my head is agreeing with them.

This morning I took my cup of coffee up to my bedroom, and walked into my closet to get dressed.  I stood there, frozen in my own footsteps, with a voice saying, “You need to purge and clean, girlfriend.”   A smile formed on my lips, and I got that fluttering feeling in my chest that I get when I know something satisfying and meaningful is about to happen.  I couldn’t wait to dig in, but had children to get ready and ushered to school.   I kept the family on task and started driving my youngest to school.  That’s when I heard it, my critic.  “You don’t want to clean your closets today!  It’s way too much work.  You can do it some other time.”  I recognized those voices as that little girl inside that didn’t want to clean, because it wasn’t going to be good enough anyway.  My spiritual voice stepped in, comforted my inner child for a moment, and reassured the need to clean out my closet.

I returned home and was eager to begin my project.  I started clearing shelves, and remembered the spiritual thoughts that I had drifted asleep to last night, and realized that cleaning out my closet came at the time I needed it most.

I lay in bed last night, overwhelmed with emotions and discouraged at my lack of creative drive I have been experiencing the past few weeks.  I opened myself up and asked for guidance from the higher power that I believe in.  (Most of us refer to this as the Universe, God, Heavenly Father, Mother Earth, Buddha, etc.)  I asked for guidance, peace, creativity, joy.  I prayed for the ability to be the best mother to my two daughters that I can be to allow them to find their own strength and creativity.  I said thanks for the resilience of my marriage and the power of the love that my husband and I have spent years challenging; trying to prove it wrong but finding it always wins out in the end.  I asked for the Universal voice to be heard through my writing.  And I asked for the understanding that wherever I am is exactly where I am supposed to be.

I spent three hours cleaning out my closets this morning.  I threw out things that had managed to find their ways into the deep crevices, behind shoes and our dresser.  Receipts, halves of earring sets, an old matchbox; you get the idea.  I started on one side and worked my way around to the other, clearing shelves and hangers; starting a pile of things that will soon be donated to local shelters and such.

Getting rid of so many clothes and shoes put a smile on my face and in my soul.  I knew all of these things that I no longer wanted; that had found themselves taking up space in my closet for who knows how long; would be going to someone else that desperately needed them.  Dresses that may find themselves sitting in a job interview; hoping for that income to provide for a single mother and her children.  Shoes that will replace ones with holes or worn out soles.  Jewelry that might make someone feel pretty again.

Cleaning closets is indeed, good for the soul.  Laboring over this project for three hours, with nobody’s voice to listen to but my own and gathering piles of extra ‘stuff’ that no longer suited me  made me so happy.  I looked over my closet triumphantly after hauling bags and bags of stuff out to be donated.  My closet was a clean, open space again; and so was my mind.

The Canyon and The Apple Tree

My father’s house is on Canyon Road, which leads into the mountainous valleys and canyons beyond.  He has lived in that house his entire life, and he is living the end of his days there now.  An image that will always remind me of my father will be the apple tree.  He has several apple trees on his property, and they have been his pride and joy since his boyhood.  He tends to them with great care, and boasts every year on the number of bushels he picked. 

A couple months ago, I knew that I would be painting oil paintings for my sisters as Christmas presents.  I did not know what they would be, I planned on going with the flow and letting the paintings reveal themselves to me; as most of my paintings tend to do.  I started painting one of a lone apple tree against a blue blackground; recreating one I painted for her as a child as I sat with her in her art classes at the university.  Not knowing why, and not questioning, I sat that one aside and started on one a bit different. 

The following two paintings came to life.  I started on them before my father became as sick as he is; and now that he is spending what we all believe to be his last days as he endures the end stages of his heart failure; these two paintings have more meaning than I would have ever expected them to.  I cried many tears during the time I painted them, and as I would sit looking at the finished products, waiting for the paint to dry for days and days. 

They are a vision of the canyon and the apple tree.  To me, they are a symbol of my father; and I cherish that they revealed themselves to me.

The Lonely Ones

This post  was in response to a prompt from Lemuria, For the Lonely Ones:  When Farmer Wurzel first stood Mr. Tatters in the middle of the Big Field the scare-crow thought how happy he was going to be.  But he was not happy. As the days passed he did not see anyone to whom he could say “Good day, I hope you are well.” And nobody came to say “and I hope you are well” to him.  Poor Mr. Tatters grew a little lonely.

He would watch other creatures scurrying around him in the distance throughout all hours of the day.  Cows grazed in a pasture in the distance.  Large oak trees that surrounded the perimeter were filled with birds and squirrels.  He longed to call out to them, “Hello there!” but they were too far away from him to hear anything.

Mr. Tatters stood in the middle of that field all day long, every single day.  Through scorching heat, drenching rain or strong winds, he remained in that field.  That was his place and that is where he needed to stay.  But he didn’t want to stay.  He would have liked to join the farm animals in the warm barn at night, or huddle under the protection of the large oak trees in the rain with the squirrels to keep himself dry.  Mr. Tatters became very sad.

One day, a carefree little bunny was hopping through the field and ran right into Mr. Tatters.  It looked up at him with big frightened eyes.  “Well good day, little bunny.  I hope you are doing well today!”  The bunny relaxed a little bit, and cocked its head to the side a little bit.  “Um, h-h-h-hi,” the bunny said a bit reluctantly.  Mr. Tatters perked up and told the bunny what a pleasant treat it was for him to have a visitor and asked the bunny where his place on the farm was.  “I live right over there,” the bunny said, nodding over toward a grassy area near the barn.  “Why does everyone stay away from me?” Mr. Tatters asked discouragingly.  “Well you ARE a scarecrow!  It’s your job to scare things away, silly!”  Mr. Tatters hung his head down, “Oh,” he said sadly.  “I see.” 

Mr. Tatters never wanted to scare anyone.  He loved the company of others and wanted nothing other than to share his friendship.  He didn’t understand why he had to stay in the middle of that field during all conditions, alone and doing something that wasn’t in his nature; scaring things away. 

The bunny hopped back the next day and told Mr. Tatters that someone was going to come see him today, someone that could help him make sense of everything.  A little while later, a wise owl flew near Mr. Tatters and landed on his shoulder.  “Good day, Mr. Tatters,” the owl said in his distinguished tone.  “Well hello there!” Mr. Tatters replied.  “I have come to tell you about your responsibility to this farm.” The owl said.   “My responsibility?” Mr. Tatters said, a bit confused.  “You see, these fields here grow the crops that help keep this farm running.  This field contains important foods that not only will feed the farmer and his family, but food that they will sell down at the market.  The money they make from these crops allow them to buy feed and supplies for the livestock.  Without food for the cows, the cows would not be healthy enough to contribute milk, which also keeps this farm running.  All the animals that live here are able to do so because of the precious cycle that nourishes everything around us.  And that cycle always comes back to this field.”  Mr. Tatters looked at Mr. Owl with an astonished look on his face.  “You see those crows just beyond the fence line over there?” Mr. Owl continued.  Mr. Tatters looked over at the flock of black birds that stayed just beyond the perimeter.  “Yes,” he replied.  “Well, those crows love these crops and will do their best to try to make it their personal buffet.  They have destroyed countless numbers of crops, and you are the only one that can keep them away!”  “Really!?” Mr. Tatters exclaimed with a gleam in his eye.  “Yes, you have a very important part in the success of this farm!”  “But if I only need to scare the crows, why does everyone else also stay away?”  “You see, if they are out here running around, they will disrupt the soil that nourishes the crops, so they must stay off the fields as well.”  “Oh, I understand now.” Mr. Tatters replied. 

From that day on, Mr. Tatters stood tall and proud as he did his job of protecting the crops.  The other animals were sure to holler over at him every once in a while, and the owl and other small birds flew over to visit every so often.  He understood that regardless of our view on life, when it is bringing us down, sometime we just need a change in perspective to understand how important our place in it is.

Untold Stories

I was in Starbuck’s the other morning. I was 5 hours away from home and my husband and daughters, helping to care for my ailing father. I had needed to get out of my father’s house for a little while. Somehow, the comfort of my daily Chai tea latte made me feel that if I had anything normal and routine around me, it would help me feel better. I stood in the middle of the store, by the shelves of coffee cups and espresso machines; but my mind was somewhere completely different. My mind was on my father and what possibilities awaited for the outcome of his health and the risk of losing his life. He is now 84 years old and fighting heart failure. The man is a warrior, and has fought for his life on several occasions; always pulling through. In the back of my mind, I always knew that I would have to confront the loss of my father. With that knowledge, however, also came the knowledge that I would never be ready to lose him. He has been having good days and bad days, and at this point I just don’t know what will happen. He may rally and pull out of this. Or he may be stuck tied to that oxygen tank for the rest of his days, which may not be very many.

So there I was, in Starbucks and I hadn’t showered, I had no makeup on. Those things were of no priority to me that morning. As I waited for my order to be ready, I heard the following words in my mind, “My Dad is dying.” Hearing those words as I said them to myself, I began to cry. I tried hard to fight back tears. I could see how other patrons might wonder why I was crying and how judgments can be made every day by people we do not even know. I could see a couple people look at me as they walked past, and all I wanted to do was tell them, “My Dad is dying.” It made me wonder how we as humanity react to those around us, and how often fleeting judgments are made. How odd would it be if everyone were always honest with each other and relayed their stories of struggle, pain, loss; or even stories of triumph, joy and success? I think what we would find is that our stories are more similar to those of others than we would imagine them to be. And for that reason, I wish to show more kindness to others and remember that all of us our fighting some kind of struggle. I forget whose famous quote that belongs to; but the truth of it is astounding. 

For anyone that may be facing the loss of someone very important in their lives; or any loss for that matter–we are not alone.   I believe that sometimes we feel alone, but once we hear stories similar to ours, we don’t feel so alone anymore.  Our untold stories are waiting to be heard.

Candace