I'm Not That Woman Anymore

 

I think one of the most disturbing reality checks is that no matter how many years away from self-abuse, and self-sabotage I might come, at some point, when I'm overwhelmed or too tired, or hungry, or sorrowing, I will find myself smack in the middle of thoughts of what I might do.  Never good things, mind you.  Stinking thinking sorts of things, things that hail right back to the days of not caring for myself but reacting with destructive behaviors.

I've never been an alcoholic, but I understand too well the desire to drown my sorrows, albeit my drownings include compulsive overeating, indulging in behaviors that undermine my self-esteem and make me feel shame.  There they are, bold and stark and demanding as always, beckoning to me wildly.  "Hey, why don't you...?" they shout at me.  

And then, I not only must reject them hard, sometimes with medication or a less savage self-soothing action, but I also must face the fact that I am never going to be rid of these reactions.  That those things will always be the first and loudest voice I hear cajoling me to return to places I never want to set foot again... 

It's never the lovely things that call to me to nourish my soul.  Never the nap or a lovely salad, or a pretty bouquet, or a good book or even a single portion of bourbon and coke and a good movie.  Oh no.  

Always it is the destructive, hurtful things.  The compulsive eating that involves far too much money, too many carbs, too much sugar and self-loathing.  Indulgences in behaviors that I loathe, like being snarky and angry and hateful.  Or taking part in events that makes my soul cringe and my skin crawl.  It's always those sorts of things that present themselves immediately.  "Remember, when you...How fun did that used to be?"  A lie right away.  It was never fun.  "You could still..."  Of course, I could.  I absolutely could!  And I could feel an utter useless fool the next day as well and for weeks afterward allow guilt and shame to cause me to shun everyone I know for fear that they too will know how base I can be.

Why?

Because I was once that woman, who self-destructed to cover pain, regardless of how much more pain I should feel afterwards.  Perhaps some portion of my mind still craves that initial sense of giving in to feelings which are common as can be, or perhaps it recalls the intensity of the pain I felt after indulging unhealthily made the agony 'd been in feel next to nothing in comparison.  Perhaps because some part of my brain will always be addicted to certain reactions to strong feelings and behaviors.  I don't know.  I don't.  

But I do know this: I am not that woman, anymore.

I am not that woman who will settle for something less.  I spent a lifetime accepting whatever was offered me because I believed that I had no other choice, no better option.  I've learned in the years since then, that if we stop automatically taking whatever is within immediate reach, we'll often find the real treasure isn't far away.

I am not that woman who has low self-esteem.  I've learned that self-esteem isn't the value others place upon you, but upon the value you place on your own worth.  I know who I am and what my value is now.  

I am not that woman who needs to numb herself by foolish means pretending that afterwards I will feel less pain.  Pain is never decreased by choosing a different pain to override it.  Pain is decreased by acknowledging what hurts and why and then allowing oneself time to grieve the loss or hurt and then getting on with it.

I am not that woman who has never known what real love looks and feels and tastes like.  Once in my life if I wasn't being emotionally abused and told the whole while that I was loved, I didn't believe those who didn't hurt me or expect the worst of me.  I've known real love.  It doesn't even resemble what I used to see as love. It's a whole different thing.  Not perfect but vastly different.  I had it.  I don't want less than that ever again.

I am not that woman who can forget that she is the daughter of a most high King.  I thought my sum total was equal to who my parents were.  Not true.  My sum total was determined long ago by the Creator, and I cannot forget that he knew me before I was 'knit together in the womb'.

I am not that woman who will take crumbs from another's table.  Accepting what is offered up as though it's a gift when in fact it's a test to see exactly how highly you value yourself, is always a mistake.  We learn what gold looks like.  We come to recognize true value as we grow.   

I am not that woman who will allow anyone, including herself, to de-value who she has become by walking backwards into the past.  To hell with that!  There's a whole future in front of me, full of possibilities and while I might get hurt, might stumble along the way, I know that whatever is in front of me is bound to be better than anything I found it necessary to leave behind long ago.  

Permission to be Sad

 

I sat down the other night weary to the bone.  Beyond that even, weary to the core of my soul.  "Why?", I asked myself.  "Why am I so very wearied just now?"

Well, it's not just now.  It's been building over the past few months.  Starting the long waiting day of March 21 and going all the way through this past weekend.   Sunday evening, I sat down and looked at my calendar.  There was nothing to do.  No appointments to keep, no bills to pay, no big chores planned, no time out with the grandchildren.  I don't need any groceries, or to run any errands. 

Renter vs. Owner Mentality

 

I have a secret love.  Mind you all, it's been ongoing for years upon years, but here lately I've indulged in it more and more.  I like to watch vlogs about small apartments.  We're talking anything from 191sq. ft., to the 2m sort in Paris.  Deep city apartments, lost in the boroughs and arrondissements.  I love seeing how people utilize their tiny spaces, some of which are rented and some of which are owned.   

Do I have any desire at all to live in New York, or Paris, or Italy, or Chicago or Los Angeles? Nope. None.  Not at all.  I am very much a girl who must have her green space right outside her window, be free of traffic noise and fumes, and be able to access her home without climbing five flights of stairs or walk six blocks to the corner grocery.  I am and always will be a country woman and quite happy about it.  But I love the glimpse into a life that I don't know and never shall.

Stepping Into the Void

I was meant to be gathering images for a collage that marked Past, Present, and Future for a weekly task in a study I'm working on.  Since I have only a very few magazines on hand, most of my images centered around words clipped from pages and a handful of pictures that represented things important to me.  Frankly none of them represented my past, of which I feel I've had a gracious plenty!  Instead, I focused on what I wanted to see in my future.  Some of what I have now.  A lot more than I have now.  I had slowed considerably in clipping and started scanning articles as I flipped through one of the last magazines. Suddenly there was a small paragraph that leaped off the page at me.  

My Turn

 

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately...  Oh, let me begin again.  As usual, I've been doing a lot of thinking...

Possibilities abound all around me.  Things I've always wanted to do, never had time for, or was otherwise unable to do.  All the usual excuses come into play here. In the past, I'd cite John's lack of interest, a lack of money, a lack of time, etc.   All were exactly what I said they were: excuses.  Some had more validity than others, but they were all excuses, nonetheless.

July Promises and Possibilities

 

For this last day of June, I have been mildly busy.  And I took a long, deep nap, too.  I've wished a Happy Birthday to my granddaughter Rosalynn who turned 12 today.  I've worked in the shed, made Cheddar Jalapeno bagels and contemplated what I consider to be the real start of summer, the month of July.

It is the last 'vacation' month for the children.  Nearly all of them start school at the end of July or the first of August.  June was full enough of nice things to keep me feeling I'm more than a drudge but not all the things I'd promised myself came to be.  I'm happy with what I did get to though.  

But what about July?

The Visible Woman

 

It is a common truth, that as we age, we shrink.  Gravity has a way of pulling us down closer to the earth.

But for some of us, we've been shrinking for years. It's nothing to do with aging.  It's everything to do with thinking we are of no value, that we have no right or reason to draw attention to ourselves.  

For some of us, shrinking out of sight is a skill we learned as children.  We kept low and out of eye contact range as much as possible.  When all hell broke loose, we went quietly about picking up pieces, cleaning up messes, taking care of the debris from someone else's fallout level disasters.  

Someday Is Now

 

Everyone has a list.  It might be a physical list, but some of us only keep a mental one tucked far back in the brain.  And every once in a while, we drag it out of hiding and examine it. It's the Someday list.  Others might call it the Bucket List (good movie by the way...).  It is a comprehensive list of all the things we mean to do someday.

Someday...

My Grief

 

Here is a question I struggle with a great deal:  What does grief look like?  Is it meant to look exactly the same for everyone?  Does it come in different sizes and different forms?  Does it go in and out of fashion like styles?  How do I, as a new widow, still lively enough to want to live fully and well, deal with loss?  What is my identity now?

So many questions follow the one question, which is circular and always comes back around: What does grief look like?

Loss and Possibility

 

This is where I am here in June.  I have experienced a loss, a great loss, and yet I am so very aware that there are all sorts of possibilities before me.  It's a weird balance to walk between grief and joy, between old identity and new unformed self, between now and a future that is so vast and unknown before me that it scares and thrills me all at once.

As I came into May, once I began to be aware of life still life-ing all around me, it was hard to remain in the fog of grieving on a permanent basis.  Oh, there is still grief and it comes upon me unexpectedly at some point in most days, but it's not devastating.  It's not consuming misery.  It's just an awareness that there is a huge void in my life, that John's presence was large in my life.  I was happy to sit on the sidelines for the most part, to observe quietly and share what I observed with him.

A Time to Dance

Ecclesiastes 3 has always been one of my favorite passages.  The whole book is a favorite of mine, but most especially Chapter 3:1-8. 

"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace." 

Those verses speak of all the things of life in my opinion.  I find them very comforting at most any time but of late I've found them reminders to of hope because for everything we might experience in life there is an opposite that balances all.