Merely A Flesh Wound, I Am Alright

Yes, it's Monty Python reference. Possibly paraphrased or not exact, I don't really care but some people have nothing better to do than be pedantic. Merely a flesh wound, it's a humorous, easy way to defer conversation about things that have happened since October 2013.  Although, these days, I am more alright than hemorrhaging so that's something, right? I made this mix of songs that make me happy and remind me that I am better than the circumstances that rained down on me the other day. 

I am alright and getting better all the time. I still think "One Flesh Amputation" is a great name for a band but it doesn't describe the state of my heart and soul these days. I have days. I have some exceedingly awesome days. I have some excruciatingly hard days. I have some terribly icy numb days. I still deal with seething rage and abysmal brokenness. I still struggle to trust people, myself included. I still hurt but not nearly as much as I used to hurt. 

I am a mixtape maker from way back. I have made plenty of playlists during these choppy waters to divert my attention or exploit the depth of my emotions. I don't share everything I make publicly nor do I make all my creations on YouTube. It helps most days even if only because it forced my focus onto something other than the darkness. I haven't made very many self-indulgent, wallowing in darkness playlists which is a bit of a victory considering. I really enjoyed the way I worked the post and playlist thing the other day so I thought I would give it a whirl again. 

The playlist came first. Several days ago, actually. I had some downtime after a string of remarkably normal, uplifting days. I created the Burn List playlist and then this one. The Burn post and playlist were actually a bit cathartic and well-received according to the stats so it's win-win. I work through my stuff, you get entertained. You're welcome. Anyhow, when I created the flesh wound playlist, I didn't intend to wrap a post around it. The post has been born out of the past several days.

 

I can't seem to get my head out of certain spaces the past week or so. Or is it an undertow? At any rate, I have felt myself in ruminating on my love life for the past 25 years. (Yes, it spawned a playlist. No, you can't see it yet.) There is a growing faction of people in my life suggesting that I should start dating again. Sure, I have had one or two close people poking me that direction but I am talking people who are practically strangers. It's annoying. Partially it's my fault for giving the illusion that I haven't been entertaining the idea and yeah, I have kept a rather in-depth relationship as much off the radar as I possibly could. (I may be a jerk for that, not sure yet.) But it leads me to more confidently question why everyone seems to think that time and signing up for more torture is going to heal all wounds. 

Sigh. See. This space I am in now. I am good. Sure, every once in awhile I miss the benefits and perks of an intimate relationship but I have changed so much in the past ten years that those benefits don't tip the scale toward playing the field. It's an incredibly interesting insight I have gained having the first man I opened my heart to post-marriage be the last man I swore off prior to meeting my husband. I know it doesn't always show but I am such a better version of me these days. In some ways, I am sure it's annoying to others. But I know much more clearly who I am and what I want and what I can tolerate, and why shouldn't I? I am older and much definitely wiser. This play list, well, it's a bit of a love letter to myself, to remind me that I am every bit as fabulous as I remember myself to be.

I am alright...and getting better every day.

The Value of Getting By With Help From Your Friends

With Help From My Friends
Again, a little something I whipped up.

What would you do if I had bad grammar?
Would you close tab and walk out on me?
Lend me your eyes and I'll write you a blog,
and I'll try to use correct hyperbole.
Oh, I get by with some help from my friends. 

The Quite Bearable Lightness of Being Sparkly seems to have stoked my smoldering embers. It's not as naughty as it sounds. (Or maybe it is, the night is young.) I wrote in the wee hours of Tuesday morning. Ever since, it's been like large chunks of gray matter have thawed and revitalized. It's been me with this silly grin. I have been in keen awareness of all the bucket fillers in my life and just how connected I am these days. But mostly, it's been me thinking about my re-work of Proverbs 27:17: As glitter sharpens glitter, so a man polishes the sparkle of his friend.

I could write for days about all the lovely women and the few good men I count among my friends. (And the few good men is not a jab, it's a reflection of my change in attitude about men and women being friends, and so I do not have many close male friends anymore.) I would like to write a post about each and everyone of them and how beautiful and witty and wise and cherished they are, I really would. But they are all so humble and so busy that I wouldn't want to push them into anything. 

I have learned that adult friendships are not quite like they are portrayed in movies or media or whereever it was we all got this idea that as our responsibilities grew that we would still have these tight cliques of party girls who would lounge around drinking wine with us on any given night. I used to mistakenly leave people alone because I thought they were too busy or that we wouldn't click or whatever. Or worse, my own personal shame cloud would convince me that there is no way someone so (insert superlative here) would ever want to be friends with me. 

I have been so wrong and I have thoroughly enjoyed being proven as such. I have been grateful for grace from old friends who got thrown under the bus of my marriage being there to dust off the debris when my husband decided to throw me under the bus as well. I am grateful for all the different sizes and shapes and opinions and ideas that I have call, a click, a text, a car trip away. I have found the friends that I can text at 4 in the morning and the ones that I could if it wouldn't disturb their whole household and put their routine into a whirlwind. I have solid sisterhoods with women I may never meet through the beauty of online groups. I have it all. I truly do. I never have to each lunch by myself (but prefer to most days because it's my recharge time.) I am grateful that when everything fell apart that I didn't collapse into the vacuum of myself and my despair.I haven't been this social in so many circles since my freshman year of college. The energy, the love is more intoxicating than drinking week-old Hairy Buffalo.

I have that Lao Tzu quote in the sidebar:

Kindness in words creates confidence.
Kindness in thinking creates profoundness.
Kindness in giving creates love.

Without the kind words of my friends, especially when I didn't deserve them, I would not have hurdled situations. No joke, I would have given up completely a longtime ago and caved in and started dating dregs with money. Adultery created a void in me that I wasn't prepared for and left me with questions that I will never have answered. God brought alongside of me all the right women who have spoken truth and grace and love and kindness. My girlfriends loved me when I couldn't love myself and that love was infectious.

I have previously mentioned or written about or maybe I haven't about my change in attitude over the past several years. Being well-versed in snark and sarcasm and the dark humor arts, I could have so easily slid down that slope and never looked back. I had already been making positive changes before the bullet of infidelity hit my heart. It must have been what has kept the wound from being fatal. Being nicer to myself and others has expanded my consciousness in ways I could have never imagined. Feel free to correct me if I am wrong about this because I very well could be but I feel like I have become a kinder, more compassionate person over the last three years. I feel more approachable and less critical.

Kindness in giving creates love. It's what I named this blog. My intentions at the time were not at all high-minded or entirely altruistic. Yet here I am, telling you that I know that this is a truth. The time, the money, the clothes, the casseroles, the texts, the memes, the wine, the whiskey, the cake, the prayers, I can never in this lifetime repay everyone for all their kindness toward me but you best believe that I am going to give it a shot.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you to everyone who polishes my spark. I love you.

#BookReview "Healing from Hidden Abuse: A Journey Through the Stages of Recovery from Psychological Abuse" by Shannon Thomas

Release date August 30, 2016.
Available on Amazon:
http://amzn.to/2bahcRr

If you have been following the blog, you are aware that I am just about two months out of my divorce being final. If you know me outside the blogosphere, you know a bit about how all that shook out from start to finish. But only if you are my kids do you know the width and height and depth and breadth and everything in between of the last ten years of life. There are knots I have yet to untie and this book has certainly been a dose of cornstarch to those knots.

I first became aware of the author, Shannon Thomas, and Southlake Christian Counseling when a friend of mine shared something from the Southlake Christian Counseling page in their feed. At the time, it was nearly two years after my husband had first said he didn't want to be married. It was two counselors and numerous doctor's appointments later. It was the cops telling me there was nothing they could do later. It was a chain of completely futile calls to the domestic violence line later. It was me on the verge of accepting that maybe I was, in fact, crazy later. I don't remember the post but it was the first time in two years something emanated from a credible source later. 

I don't remember the post. I only remember that I cried when I read it and felt this huge wave of relief. Relief that I was not losing my mind. Relief that my feelings that this situation was is abusive were not wrong. Relief that I was not alone. Relief that there was hope.When the opportunity arose to be a part of Ms. Thomas' book launch, I seized the opportunity that has been set before me. In full disclosure, I got an advanced copy and a significant portion of my swagger back.

I believe that Ms. Thomas' book will do for victims and survivors of psychological abuse what the AA Big Book does for alcoholics. This book succinctly and compassionately not only outlines the what, where, when, who, why and hows of psychological abuse, it also provides practical, meaningful guidance for recovery and maintenance. 

This book is like tightly packed dynamite. 

Or perhaps small but mighty is a better description. 

What I had expected to knock out in a weekend took me two weeks to complete. It is a concise, clearly written book that sometimes, as a survivor, requires a bit of extra processing and breathing room. I recommend this book for the general public as much as I would recommend it to someone hoping to heal from the invisible scars of psychological abuse. Ms. Thomas does an excellent job of detailing the pains and solutions to this insidious problem.  I sincerely hope that this book opens a dialogue about psychological abuse that blows away the carpets that society has been sweeping all of this under. 

The book is complete with a guided personal reflection journal intended to facilitate the healing process. I have not yet completed it because I am waiting to pick my own hard copy for continued personal reference. It is my understanding that the intention is in place to build a network as well of resources and reliable helpers for navigating the healing process as well as the possibility of a more in-depth workbook. (Understanding, wishful thinking, I don't know.) 

This book is a life raft for those of us who have been floating in the shark-infested waters of psychological abuse  but it is also an invaluable tool for professionals and laypersons who need to learn more about the the damaging effects of psychological abuse and the stages that one goes through on the road to recovery. 

I thank God that Shannon Thomas was inspired to write this book and I highly encourage you all to pick up a copy for learning and/or healing purposes.

As of 8/8/2016 this book is available on Amazon in both paperback and Kindle formats:

The Start of My Healing Journey:Trigger Happy Jack

Maybe "Trigger Happy Jack" is not a song that some people would pick for a post about healing but I find it pair well. I mean, I guess, I could have picked The Carpenters "We've Only Just Begun" or that wore out, played old disco song that everyone latches onto after a bad break up. Nope. This song by Poe is the one I want to write to tonight.

Although I have made some effort in the last three years to get closure, mend the broken bits and arrange the pieces in the right order, it didn't really start to happen in any meaningful way until a few weeks ago. Counseling helped but the focus was all wrong. I am not a person who likes or even clings to labels, except maybe for mom, I pretty fond of that one but other wise I would prefer not to cling to a label or whatever, so that being said I guess I kept tightening my bootstraps and marching on.

I am okay. I am fine. There's nothing wrong with me. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

I am as okay as woman living in southwestern Ohio who has a trigger of overweight, unfortunately featured blondes can be. I am sure it's perfectly normal for any sort of colored paper attached to my front door or car to incite a complete loss of all sympathetic functions. And dude, it's totally funny, it's part of my schtick that I can't remember shit from the moment I walk from one room to the next. I am okay. I am okay.

I am not okay. (Yes, I thought about MCR but it was entirely too obvious a song.)

When I read that Sparkle book, my jaw dropped for real and not in some underhanded click-bait sort of way when I read about what trauma is by definition in the mental health community. It's not just my divorce that needs triaged. What I have called life for most of the last seven years has been acute trauma wrapped in upheaval, and I am sure that it leaves you wondering how I didn't realize sooner. Shrug. I didn't. I deal with life and I keep moving forward and THAT, my friends, is a bit of a character defect. I wasn't admitting the pain so rather than healing I just got a seriously of poorly healed scabs.

I have been picking at them. A few of them need to be opened up by a professional and properly repacked but I am not there yet. I have had amazing synchronicities happen with resources coming along and that has been tremendously helpful. I am learning to look out for me in a way that I probably (honestly) never have. I have spent an inordinately dreadful amount of time operating at less than. It's time to get up to speed.

Not too quickly though because as much as I want to be on the top of my game, I am seeing the value in being still in this space and taking the time to have a proper cry (literally and figuratively).  I can appreciate the concerns that I may be isolating myself. Boundaries need to be drawn. I am in regular contact with my own personal Justice League and yes, we are considering costumes. I have skipped over proper healing at so many other points in my life that I thought that maybe it was time to make time to be fully better.

This book I am reading as part of the book launch is phenomenal and I am only 30% in to it. Thank God that the Kindle highlighter will never run dry. It's nice to have some validation that I am not losing my mind or otherwise crazy. While I am finding that I do have to digest this slowly because some sentences bring a flood of memories, I am eager to finish the book and take positive steps forward. I am praying that this book continues to be a positive and pertinent tool for my healing journey.

So, tonight I raise my glass of water and propose a toast: here's to the end of Jedi mind tricks and all the other bullshit I have let drag me down for 25 years. 25 years based on having my first date at 15. Totally sure there is older drama but Jesus, I am not going to for sainthood...just sanity.

I met the devil and I stared her in the eyes Her hair had scales like silver serpents I a statue, stood there mesmerized

Long title. Sorry. I woke up this way. With this particular song swirling about me gulliver.

I met the devil. It was October of 2014. I set foot into my house after a grueling emergency trip to Charlotte. That moment is burned into my memory so deep that it truly haunts me. It's the reason that blonde woman of a certain unfortunate build and facial structure trigger anxiety in me. It's why I question her intelligence and the state of her soul. May God have mercy on it indeed.

I have learned some things in the past 24 hours that have me boldly praying for the truth in both lowercase and uppercase form to be brought to light. Everything from all sides of the street. I am not scared or worried about it because I have nothing to hide. It's about time that we all got set free. Not just free, but free indeed!

I've been convincing myself that I'm worthwhile Cause I'm worth what I'll convince myself to be

I have spent too long accepting less than as a state of being. I have spent too long dwelling in the desert of this desertion. Broken people do shitty things. I get that. But I was thoroughly unprepared for the bending and breaking and relentless bullshit that I have endured over the course of the last three years. I am sick of unscrupulous people. I am sick of bad theology. I am sick of people twisting Truth into fiction so that they can justify their off base, off course actions.

But I am glad for stalkers...God would never send you a married man, honey. And he certainly isn't going to bless that union in any way, shape or form because God can not bless sin. I hope you both take your restraining orders off of Jesus.

As for me, I am dusting my feet off of the both of you. You are God's children, he can deal with you. I worth much more than the both of you threw me under the bus for and I do forgive you both. Now if you will excuse me I need to go jam out to Relient K and get on with my life.

But one last thing before I go, the relentless pursuit of your own freewill isn't freedom at all and one day I hope that everyone truly learns that lesson.

Anger is an energy.

Just something I doodled a couple of months ago. 

Distractions keep getting in the way of my writing. Stupid distractions.

Don't let the blog title fool you, I am in mostly good spirits. It's just that I have had this song stuck in my head for the better part of the day and mostly because of the "anger is an energy" lyric. It's strange to me, too, that I was 11 when this song came out. How the hell does a little girl in rural Ohio fall in love with a song like this? I mean sure it was the heyday of WOXY out of Oxford but still.

Anger is an energy. That whole dark side of the Force, crazy monkey rage, loose cannon, seething, seeing red unpleasant energy. Anger is good in small measure and then there is the whole righteous anger like when you get mad at someone kicking a puppy or that damn friend of yours who keeps posting the videos of dudes kicking puppies in some sort of misguided activism. But it is an energy and the path of its trajectory can be quite a ride.

I have really come to terms over the past several days with the fact that I have this undying anger at the other woman. I can work through things in my mind with my husband, the collapse of our marriage, the bankruptcy, the two foreclosures, the pending divorce, my favorite hangout closing, and various other anger inducing experiences but I can not crack my emotions surrounding this so-called woman. I can not open my heart to forgive her or open my mouth and sound like anything less than a hardcore gangsta rapper born to Sam Kinison and Lisa Lampanelli.

It's eating my soul. It's so much more than just the obvious and so much more than I can write at this juncture. It seriously pains me that there are woman like her in the world. Not just because she's a  husband(expletive deleted) whore, but also because she bought hook, line and sinker whatever pile of  steaming malarky he was selling her and she didn't think twice about it. I personally would never enter a relationship with a married man, no matter what he told me the truth was. I always fact checked guys because we have this thing called the internet and public records and if he said he was divorced and I couldn't corroborate that I declined. I will never understand woman who are so hard up for a man that they do not so much as bat an eye or an iota of conscience when a married man crosses their path.

I am learning that healing from infidelity isn't easy. I trust very few people. My self-esteem is completely shot and most days really I am just faking it because I do know that I do have people who love and care about me that don't like to see me feeling less than. I am completely unsure of how to rebuild my life because I never expected to have to be starting from nearly scratch at 40. I try very hard to be positive to find silver linings. I have great cheerleaders who help me with that. But this anger...this anger is something I was unprepared for entirely.

Anger is an energy...an energy that I need to channel into something positive. I wish I liked running, I might consider taking it up as a release valve. I could write. I have contemplated various projects. The downside is that with anything that I wrote the whole "any similarities" thing would be a total lie. Probably shoots my comedy career in the foot as well. But until I get a spark of inspiration or divine revelation, I am just going to have to sing along with John and hope it autoplays into something even better.

May the road rise with you...

You call me out beyond the shore into the waves.

Screenshot from my FB feed this morning.

The song "You Make Me Brave" by Bethel Music was in my memories on Facebook this morning. A great song that has gotten me through a lot of tough moments in life. A little bit further down the feed were the two posts on the left. Call me crazy, but I think there is a message for me today. Whaddya think?

Ah, my comfort zone, that well-worn groove, that towing the line, that treading water. I do try to experience new things and expand my horizons on a regular basis but admittedly, this past couple of years because of the divorce, I have been more inclined to play it safe in the grand scheme of things. Some of it is fear, fear of the vast unknown that lays ahead of me. Some of it, is rooted in anger. I have had periods of extreme anger at the trajectory of my life. If I had wanted to to be a single mother at 40, I would have never gotten married.  I never got married because I intended to be single again. A whole tsunami of disappointment and broken what-ifs. Then there is that whole me as a mom trying to provide a degree of stability for my kids, but who am I kidding at best I am a swinging bridge more than a fortress. 

For as much as stepping out of my comfort zone feels like stepping off the curb into the path of a speeding bus, it is unavoidable. Over the course of the next month, I will be moving. Every time I think I have made my peace with this, something comes along to disturb that. I love my house. I love my neighborhood. It's little things like being able to walk just about anywhere we would need to be. So far, there is only a couple of places that would be comparable but they don't seem to be "it". I am trying to not be picky but I also don't want to end up in suburban isolation. So I take a step...

Other steps are less clearly defined. Job, relationships, tattoos, and what to have for dinner, all have steps I need to take but to some degree are less easy for me to take because aside from my daughter, no one is going to give me a great inspirational speech about why I should get the tattoo I have wanted for years or whip me into a frenzy about ending my lifelong love affair with Little Debbie.

But the good news is that I don't walk alone. The exponential growth of my faith over the past ten years is one of the best steps out of my comfort zone that I have ever taken. I would have never imagined a version of me like that one that exists right now in this moment. And with all sincerity, today if I am not singing this song and belting out:You make me brave, You make me brave,No fear can hinder now the promises you made then I will most likely be quietly reminding myself of this...

There is one moment and it is now, and it is just me and God and all is well.

So here I go, I hear  the first step is a doozy.

Judge not lest ye be throwing stones at black kettles or something like that...

This morning I have been partying like it's 1994 which means mostly I have been sitting on my ass drinking coffee and Mountain Dew (albeit diet these days) trying to simultaneously manipulate and validate my mood with music. Unlike 1994, I am not relegated to my room to do so and I don't have to call Julie to run me anywhere. Sigh. I have things to do. I just have no motivation. I still am sick from this plague going around. Just coughing mostly, but really tired.

Of course, I could be tired from the weird dream-state I was in overnight. I got a lot of free groceries. I remember that vividly. It was an error on the part of the clerk and I tried to make it right and no one would let me. There was a lot of driving around, too. Just a very strange dream. Not as strange as the one last week where my husband got arrested for not wearing a seat belt and somehow I ended up in jail but nonetheless strange.

Everything is strange. I have been thinking a lot lately about the thin line between being judgmental and making thoughtful decisions to the exclusion of others. I am not talking about hate, this isn't going to be some weird diatribe or manifesto about why we should round up all the Bieber-believers or some ridiculousness like that. This is much more subtle.

I get the whole "he who is without sin" thing. (John 8:7) Well, I mostly get it but here's the thing...I am not perfect and I know where I have been better than anyone...it took awhile (hell, I am still working on it) but learned from and changed from my experiences, good and bad. If I were still trying to shove square pegs in round holes, I wouldn't be sitting here in the comfort of my living room contemplating how far I am supposed to extend my compassion to people who are still chasing there tails.

Sigh, I know there's a bibical answer there, too. Seven times seventy. (Matthew 18:21-25)  I think that interpretations of that really are illogical to me. Again, I am not perfect but I am also not chaotic. I have spent a lot of my life being called stuck-up because of things I do or don't do. I am okay with that. I don't like being held over the barrel in situations that I feel are not good in my heart of hearts. If my Spideysense is tingling, it's not a call to go ignore it and go grab a burger with Mary Jane. Freewill has to come in play somewhere, right? Survival and sanity count for something, right? Eventually someone loses at Russian Roulette, right?

Cryptic and vague today. I can't fully expound upon what I am thinking about. A few of you know some of the minor details. I am not trying to be an island. I just don't like playing with people in a room where there is so much stuff swept under the rug that the table almost touches the ceiling. Sigh.

We're all broken. Own it. Grow up. Move on. Or something like that.

I can't help you. I can't help anyone.

But how do I separate myself from the drama? What if I can not gracefully remove myself from the situation? It's someone else's web I've been flung into. Actually, it's more like a minefield, and I don't know if you've ever watched me walk but I am no good at tiptoeing. I've tried mending fences and building bridges but it's not ever going to work if only one party involves knows a good carpenter.

Detach with love I think is what they call it, and it sure comes off the tongue a lot easier than it can be enacted. If everyone else is happy as a pig in well, you know, then who am I to keep advertising the benefits of a buttermilk bath? I just know that life doesn't have to be this enormous suck hole of blackness and despair. I am trying to be patient and supportive but I think that before the end of this year there is going to be a great schism in my life. I can't play the roles that people need me to play to quantify their illusions.

Round pegs go in round holes. Square pegs go in square ones. It's not a judgment call. It's fact. It's the truth. And you know what they say about that...you can lead a friend to Truth but you can't make them think.

What do you think?