The following is written by a dear friend, Ray.  I met Ray at Unity Eastside where we were co-teachers of the Uniteens.  Like others I have mentioned before, I consider Ray one of my spiritual companions!  He has also been a dedicated reader of this blog from the very beginning!

It was a Friday and I had just returned from a conference in Palm Beach where I had been part of a team that had facilitated a workshop for those with developmental disabilities.  I was full of myself and couldn’t wait to share my successful experiences with my wife of two years and my newborn son as well as her two boys.  Imagine my shock when I walked into an empty, newly purchased home.  She had left me.  I walked around in a daze for that weekend and felt that on Monday my life would again reflect some kind of normalcy when I returned to work.  Upon arriving Monday, the Program Director called me into his office and told me that the program was going in another direction and  my position was being eliminated. My world was turned upside down.  Suddenly all the things that I thought provided meaning in my life were gone.  I had no savings, no means of support, and no future prospects. What was I to do? Life has a way of providing solace and opportunities to grow if we listen to our indwelling spirit. But then I knew nothing of an indwelling spirit.  I lived totally from my ego self which I defined as the sum of all the learning and experiences that had occurred in my life.  There was no other source that defined who I was. In an alone and depressed state, messages or guideposts started appearing in my life.  I had no idea where they came from but there were suggestions that I was to act on certain impulses.  I learned to trust and follow those impulses. This was, I learned, the inner higher self that we are all created to be but which is smothered by the conditioning (or programming) that has occurred since birth. Slowly, and I mean over a period of years, I began to change.  In retrospect, this is what I’ve learned.  I must pay attention to the higher consciousness in my life.  That higher consciousness has only one request. I must express love.  To do so, I must overcome the lower self judgments that I’ve learned here in earth school.  I must guard my thoughts and discern events in my life through a filter consisting of “is this an expression of my higher self or predicated upon conditioned programming?”. So where am I right now?  Well, I’m still here and learning lessons every day.  My purpose is to express joy and happiness to all that I meet and to live passionately in service to others.  I’m sure there will be other changes in my life and I look forward to them with a positive expectancy.

With December 1st comes the opporunity to start anew.  This year as a whole has been treacherous.  Seven days into January we had to put down our family dog, Sophie, who we had since she was a puppy.  Sophie was certainly a big part of our family and I still miss her.  She truely was man’s best friend, always knowing when you were down and giving hugs to make you feel better.

There’s been trouble all year with my upstairs neighbors, who luckily moved out, but were replaced with a rambunctious 2 year old who’s mother allows up at 0700 till 2300. 

A few months ago I found out that water had been leaking from January until about September underneath our building, primarily my and my next door neighbors units.  It’s costing me an additional upfront amount of $250.00 and an extra $300.00 next year in association dues.  They tell us a month before Christmas.

I’m getting forced back to the afternoon shift.  Once again my entire life will be engulfed by work.  I hate the afternoon shift because your whole day is work, I’m not a morning person, and I hate going to bars.  Welcome loneliness.

Charlie broke up with me.  This was the most recent bad news.  While I’ve talked bad about Charlie on here and he has his faults I honestly love the bastard.  If I wasn’t so full of hate for how he treated me during this break up I’d still be friends with him, but I know in all honesty its not possible.

I desperately want 2010 to be so much better then 2009 has been, but I have a feeling its only going to go worse.  It seems with each passing year things get terribly worse rather then better, so I honestly wonder where 2010 is going to lead me.

So I’m single. Have been single for a few weeks, apparently. Called the courthouse to find out what the holdup was, and they told me I’ve been divorced since November 12. Papers will be in the mail tomorrow.

My first reaction? Glee. Utter, total glee. My second? Terror. My third? Must. Run. NOW. So I ran. Managed 2 miles on the injured hamstring, then walked the last. I think nerves had a lot to do with it. After that, I came home, watched a sad movie with my daughter and best friend (who brought wine, by the way, which is just one of the reasons I love her so), and cried. A lot. I’m still doing that, actually.

But I’m not sure what I’m mourning. It’s not the marriage, which I totally recognize that I’m better off without. I think it’s probably the expectations I had of my life. And my confusion over just what it is that I’m supposed to DO now. Because I’ll be honest. I was pretty good at the whole cooking/family/makin’ it happen thing. I just don’t know how good I will be at the alone/quiet/by myself stuff. Because I haven’t done that in decades. And I really didn’t want to do it again.

I liked being married. And I don’t know what to do with the fact that the person I was married to was not so enchanted–or at least not enchanted enough to keep him from finding greener pastures. So here I sit. Wondering. Waiting. And hoping against hope that the light at the end of the tunnel will arrive soon.

As a friend just told me, though, all I really need to do is breathe. Just. Breathe.

I’ve already written in brief about my willpower, or lack of. At least in certain situations, it’s lacking. I want to go home soon. The subject matter here is interesting, but I honestly don’t have a life. So no life to Fuck, and little lifeblood to suck, would anyone want that. Actually I hate vampire flicks and all that Twilight shit going on right now. Come on, vampire plots are not just deceptively meta-realistic, they’re also plainly pointless. They don’t contribute with anything to anything. Fine, if the riffraff get a laughter out of watching some random Ashton Kutcher romcom then who gives a fuck. But vampires, really? I don’t get it.

Then again, though, I’ve been told I only laugh at clever jokes. Which is kind of a compliment, at least in my world, but also a massive slap in the face… It means I don’t have as much fun as others, but my fun is perhaps higher quality than theirs. Although this is kind of like the medication-proportion-fallacy of people believing that if one benzo can stop their anxiety; two will invoke euphoria. Fallacious, that. Am I really that serious and impossible to entertain? I dislike comedy films as I think I hinted at earlier. And those allegedly ‘funny’ cartoon TV-series. I just don’t see the hilariousness of them, mi dispiache! A good joke, to me, has to be political but not trivial. This means that anything pertaining to George Bush is just out of the question… Don’t go there. It was meagrely amusing the first time, tedious at best the second time and plainly stupid the third time. Anyone joking about Bush is really just playing the populist card to gain social acceptance, nothing more. Okay, perhaps I over-analysed this a tad too much. The point still stands beautifully, however.

People I know are dropping out of college in the US. People from college in the US here are going back next year. It’s messed up. I kind of want to do something radical. But that’s irrational as well, right now. A friend of mine is dropping out here, too. When I went around putting up posters for my election campaign, I saw posters saying ‘Do you speak Japanese? Depressed? Contact our 24h hotline’ or something along those lines. It was basically asking Japanese kids not to commit suicide. This world is mad; nobody’s sincerely happy and satisfied. We’re all just fucking Great Pretenders, pretentious fucking great pretenders, myself included.

Oh yes, I’m the great pretender,
Pretending I’m doing well.
My need is such, I pretend too much.
I’m lonely but no one can tell.

“I don’t want to hear that,” says a complaining new mother to her friend while rocking her baby boy.  “You have to tell her she needs to leave him,” says another lady to a group of young professionals on their lunch break.  A med student questions his companion, “…His wife beat him up?”  “I can help the next guest,” says a smiling cashier ready to help the next buyer of a bagel and coffee.

This shower of conversation and exclamations covers the dull roar of Classical music that occupies the background; only the musical soul will notice the occasional inflections drowned out by the shallow conversations, rotating bread ovens, and clinking silverware and dishes.  Laughter and laptops compete as some have come to visit and some have come to work.  Most people are by themselves.  But none look as alone as him.

In the midst of the feeding frenzy he sits alone at a table in his faded black t-shirt with colorful cartoon characters dancing on the bottom as it tightly wraps over his enlarged core.  The juvenile t-shirt doesn’t seem to match the age on his face.  His mostly silver watch clacks on the table as he adjusts his arms for the 73rd time.  His occasional glances don’t make it to the left and right, just up and back down so as to not bring attention to his acts of surveillance.  He doesn’t want anyone to notice he is looking up.  Sporadic  head scratches break up the symphony of room surveillance and arm adjustments.  He looks up past his glasses and the wrinkles reform in his forehead.  The last resort seems to be when he picks up his pencil to write.

There is an old clipboard with a rusted metal clip holding about fifty sheets of white lined paper oddly distant from their  notebook making their holes useless.  His pencil and paper seem foreign in this coffee shop world of laptops, netbooks  and smart phones.  His neighbor types her third page in a word document as he pauses to remove the dirt from under his finger nails before writing his next sentence.  Sudden inspiration forces him to raise the clipboard and begin writing.  But what is he writing?  Is he observing someone as I am observing him?  Does he see the loneliness in the eyes of another as I see it in his?

Uncharacteristically he nervously looks to his right and locks eyes with me.  He slowly removes his trash from the table and begins to leave.  It is like he wanted to be invisible.  As soon as he knew I noticed him, he left like a scared deer.  The 35 lines already started on his clipboard notebook paper will have to wait until later to be finished.  I wish I knew what his mechanical pencil was writing.

Loss and regret overwhelmed me when I thought my extended stare scared him away.  I was wrong, he only momentarily left his position to carry out his duty as a good citizen and disposed of his trash.  Upon returning, his life story was put on halt as he randomly flipped to a clean sheet of paper in the middle of the stack to begin a sketch.  Curious of the subject of the sketch I got up and passed him under the guise of replenishing my coffee.  I looked down to see a partial sketch of an action figure.  The character was posed for battle as he drew flames encasing this cartoon warrior.

I wanted to say good afternoon on the way back but somehow fear of intrusion held my tongue and I returned to my perch and continued to perceive him from afar.  I wish fear didn’t cripple me from interacting with people.  Who knows what my hello could have meant to him… I will never know.

I wonder if the character he drew is as lonely as he appears; trapped in one dimension between blue lines on a single sheet of college ruled notebook paper.  Sometimes our social fears trap us like that and we don’t fully tap into our humanity.  We would rather interact with our computers and cell phones than look up from the technology and exchange even a common courtesy hello.  The next time any of us has the chance to interact with the soul of another though the exchange of a smile and a simple hello – do it.
This invisible barricade we put up on a daily basis must come down before we are foreigners in our own communities.

Prologue: Why are you Afraid?

People are always asking me, “Why are you so afraid of the dark?” and I have no explanation. What am I supposed to tell them?

“There are monsters in the dark. That’s why.”

They’d think I was out of my mind. I’m fourteen years old. Fourteen year olds aren’t supposed to be scared of the dark. But if they saw what I see in every shadow, under every tree… then maybe they would understand. But for now, I tell them,

“I just am.”

Because I know they wouldn’t be able to handle it…

Lately, mom’s been turning off my light when I’m sleeping. They don’t notice me when I’m sleeping, but even when you’re asleep…you can get the feeling of being watched. Every night I have to run for the door, every night I can feel oily claws grabbing at my ankles, my arms, my legs, my clothes. Every night. When I turn on the light? Safety.

If only someone understood, you know? If only they realized:  Those monsters in the dark that you think aren’t there?  They can hurt you. They just don’t know that you’re there… yet.

It first started after my dad died. Like me, he was a severe nyctophobe, basically? He was terrified of the dark.  I heard that before he died, he completely lost it. None of the lights were bright enough to keep him safe from “them”.  It was only after dad died that I started to see “them”. They were indistinct at first. Shadows in the shadows. But slowly they started to take shape.  And I understood why good ‘ol dad was so afraid.

If you’ve ever played the game “Silent Hill” then you’ve got a vague idea of what they’re like. Twisted, faceless, twitching and jerking, covered in an oily film of black goo. When I’m watching from the safety of the light, they’re clumsy. Slow and shuffling.  When I dare to step into the shadows, they change instantly. Instead of shuffling blindly about, they’re fast. Leaping, tearing, grabbing at whatever they can; trying to drag me further into the darkness so that they can finish me off…

I can’t even count the number of scars I have from them. But the worst thing of all? No one believes me. Everyone thinks I’m just doing it for attention. That they aren’t real. That I’m hurting myself for some reason. Mom can’t even stand to look at me anymore. I wake up in the middle of the night and find that she’s turned the lights off again. She says to me,

“You have to face your fears, Lysander.”

I have a good reason to be afraid of the dark! There are things that can hurt me there! I don’t know what to do. I wish someone would listen. I wish someone could understand.

I’m not crazy. I know I’m not crazy.

]]> http://shesavestheworld.wordpress.com/2009/11/30/hold-me-tight-tonight/ Mon, 30 Nov 2009 16:02:57 +0000 shesavestheworld http://shesavestheworld.wordpress.com/2009/11/30/hold-me-tight-tonight/

I saw the boy for the first time in one month last week. I went to visit him at work, at his request (well.. with my persistence). As I passed by the window and I saw him, my stomach jumped. Standing in line and hearing his laugh made me start to shake uncontrollably. He was really busy and didn’t see me.. I ordered my coffee and, knowing he was busy, I left.. and stood against a wall trying to collect my nerves. I was a mess.

I called my aunt and she came to save me for a while. And then I drove back and walked up and down the street, trying to decide what to do. I decided to leave again (without going in). I couldn’t handle it. But I did text him to say I was at my aunt’s and he said that I should stop by later.. So I went home for an hour and returned. And we talked. It was awkward at first. There is so much to say and so much neither of us want to say. I do miss him, though.

The night before thanksgiving I was working and I had told him to visit me before he returned home, if he wanted. I Showed up to work early, hoping he would come before I came on.. but he didn’t. By 6 PM I was a mess, sick with anticipation and disappointment. Then I received a message- he was going to come! I didn’t take a break and instead, I waited. When he came at 7:30 I lit up.. I couldn’t tell how he felt about the situation, though. We stood outside in the rain talking while he smoked 3 cigarettes. . . I didn’t even eat (well, I did after he left). I was so glad to see him. Seeing him somehow eases my anxiety.

Now I haven’t seen him since and the anxiety is building again. I get anxious if I don’t know whether or not I am going to see him. I miss him. I really do. I tore off the scab and the wound hurts again. Not like new, but the pain is there.

I found a song that perfectly describes my emotions (another one). That’s the Way I loved You by Taylor Swift.

I’ve been doing alot of thinking lately.  I’ve been thinking about my future and whether I’ll ever be happy.  Will I ever meet another Erin?  I don’t think I will, but there is a woman out there for me somewhere.  I just have to search for her.  I do want to be happy even though I’m still obsessed with death and self-injury.  I can’t help it.  Those 2 things will always be a part of my life.  Even if I don’t enjoy it.  I guess you just can’t change some things.

The repetitive whirling sound of the fan,
…A beautiful beach with clear waters and sand…
The mushy, stale air locked in the room,
…Or a bustling, lively street filled with people in the noon…
The unchanging white light from the computer screen,
…Hitting the bars with friends partying and drinking till he’s green…
A song playing from the speakers, stuck in an endless loop,
…But even just hopping down the streets, shopping and some sumptuous food …

He awoke from his dream,
Took some clothes,
Took a shower,
Left the room,
And stepped out into reality.

Only 2 weeks are now left of the 2009 fall semester’s JSP, and I believe I’m not the only one feeling slightly stressed over the upcoming exams and papers that need to be written. On Monday we have the history final, then on Friday both literature and Japanese…on top of that my class has to interview some Japanese students (in Japanese, of course!), and we who take literature need to write a paper on the subject… I also need to figure out when to go to Nagano. It would be simpler (and cheaper) to stay here until the 23rd, but I’m not sure if I can do it. We’ll see what happens, things have a tendency to turn out to the best in the end. Everything happens for a reason, as I always think. No need to panic. But I’m still stressed about this all, and today at Japanese class, when I just couldn’t understand the causative verbs-part of the grammar, I felt how all this stress built up inside nearly brought me to the point where I almost cried. It’s not only the studies and all, it’s the whole communication-part, Christmas and all, as I wrote in a previous blog-post a few days ago… The whole causative-verb thingie was explained with several almost identical sentences, where we had to figure out who ate the cake… Try to get this right, who ate the cake in the following sentences (only for people who can read Japanese, sorry!):

山田さんは私の妹にケーキを食べさせました。

山田さんは私の妹にケーキを食べさせられました。

山田さんは私の妹にケーキを食べられました。

山田さんは私の妹のケーキを食べてくれました。

私の妹にケーキを食べさせたのは山田さんです。

私に妹のケーキを食べさせたのは山田さんです。

私の妹のケーキを食べてくれたのは山田さんです。 

I read somewhere that crying is a great way for the body to get rid of some stress, calm down and get going again. I would definitely need to cry some, and I’m not far from doing it every day, but I stop myself. I don’t know why. Well, partly because I don’t want to start crying like a baby for no obvious reason in front of a bunch of people, but also because the logical part of me sees no reason in crying at all. I should just kick the logical part of me hard in the butt and tell it to go shove it sometimes.

I hold you by the right hand- I, the Lord your God.  And I say to you, “Don’t be afraid.  I am here to help you.”  Isaiah 41:13

 It is hard to believe I can feel alone with words like this to encourage me and make me feel like I am special.  The Lord my God, is here to help me.  Scripture reading has had a profound effect on my outlook on life.  I now know in my heart that God is my constant companion… that was not always the case.

 When I struggled through my divorce alone in a new city… I felt profoundly alone.  My mother blamed my career for the dissolution of my marriage and my brothers and sisters scattered throughout the US, didn’t seem to care one way or another.  I had surrendered my girls to their dad for what my exe had convinced me was their best interests… I was profoundly ALONE! 

God reached down and sent an angel into my life.  The lowest point of my life, I tried to take my life and God sent Jan who was a divorced Catholic who invited me to attend Mass with her.  God used her hand to reach out and grasp mine.  Now I can see He spoke to me through that little blonde.  God has sent many angels to grasp my right hand and help me through the dark moments.  He has let me hear His voice saying, “Don’t be afraid, I am here” through male and female voices, young adults and grandparents…

Dearest Father, thank you for loving me in my painful times and sending people to assure me that I am not alone and that you are there to help.  Let me be your voice and hands to assure others of your steadfast love. 

His star is etched in the Hollywood Walk of Fame
his foot prints in Grauman’s sidewalk,
they stop and stand atop,
snap the digital photos of their feet
planted firmly on their highest hopes.

Thanksgiving day he walks the sidewalk, alone,
on the South Side of Central Park
the balloons having passed,
the crowds having gone home to family and friends,
he alone.

Years early, he hosted a Thanksgiving dinner
for 80, family, friends and a few hangers on
it is easier to avoid intimacy
when your friends are many.

Even his comedy masked
what wasn’t, its pace designed
to leave no room for people to get within,
his audience found greater insight in his words
than intended.

Then life itself became the producer
provided a broad outline of a script
let the actor rather than the audience
direct the outcome
still reserved the right
to fashion twists and turns
to meet his every move.

Divorce, cocaine and alcohol addiction,
bovine valve heart surgery,
a rehab where they made him slow down
when even the valve replacement did not.

Now, this Thanksgiving, he walks alone
the streets of the city which gives him fame
not so much a new man
as an inner child revealed.
“He was always an easy cry”,
his friend would say.

He himself, thinks he has it now
as best a man can,
being alone at times, not a misfortune.
Knowing you can be comfortable with yourself
keeps the demons away.

As the brisk fall air
accompanies the twilight sun over the
spires from the Hudson
the night sky approaches -
this year, it is his Christmas Star rising.

Ray Brown

OK, first of all, I’m being kind of flippant about the “bad relationship” description. In many ways, it was a very good relationship. We had tons of fun together and were passionate about many of the same causes, and in many ways were really really good together. But. There were signs that I missed. And that I don’t want to miss again. And should have seen before.

I was reminded of this one tonight.

“If you were the right woman for me, I would be happy. I wouldn’t be depressed any more.”

That should have been a red flag and I should have run away. He really truly believed it. It’s no surprise, either. When he was really young, his dad told him that if his mother were more beautiful, he would be happy with her (and not have to have girlfriends on the side). I may have the story wrong a little, but the basic idea is certainly accurate.

Nope, dating me is not going to make anyone not depressed. And I won’t take responsibility for that ever again.

Charlie broke up with me today.

I can’t say I’m all that surprised.  I knew the time was coming and I know it’s for the best, but it’s still killing me.  For all the shit I took from him I still deeply cared for him, I loved him through out everything.  I know it wasn’t the healthiest thing for me, but none-the-less when I was around him I was happy.

We broke up today because I pushed him.  I asked him if he had gotten my email or not, and he stated he had not.  He asked what it was about and I told him.  I told him that I really wanted to work on our relationship and that I loved him, but I was not going to wait until April when he returned from his military training.  He sighed a lot and swore a couple of times and continously  mentioned to me how this wasn’t easy for him either.  Whatever.  Bastard.

I pushed him into telling me that it was for the best that we not work on our relationship.  At least I know now, and that’s all that really matters in the end.  He gave me three reasons as to why he didn’t want to work on things. 

1. He wants to focus on his military duties.  WHATEVER! I have never stood in the way of him pursuing his military stuff.  I’ve been nothing but supportive when it comes to his military duties.  He’s been in the military 11 years and look what he’s accomplished, he’s still only a Specialist.  Eleven years and he can’t even make Sergeant.  And they gave him back to back tours, and he’s looking at his 3rd.  Yeah they’ve been great to him, but you know I never said anything.  He was in the military before he met me so I stepped back and never said anything, never gave my opinion when he talked about getting out.
2. He wants his space.  Well he can have all the fucking space he wants now.  We barely saw each other to begin with, but because he treated me like shit on my birthday and I got upset about it he wants his fucking space, fuck him.
3. He’s still loves his ex-wife (Lori) and would take her back if she came back to him. WHAT THE FUCK!  She cheated on him not once, not twice, but numerous times.  They’ve been divorced for over a year, and have been seperated for longer.  Yes they share a child, and yes they shared 10 years together, but good fucking lord, she took you for everything to the point you lost your home, you had to move back in with your mother, and you can’t even get a cell phone contract on your own without spending $1000.00.  Oh and yeah she took your daughter away from you.  Yeah she’s a fucking catch, isn’t she!  Unfucking believable.

What else is amazing about #3 is he proceeds to tell me that I’m better then Lori is in so many ways.  Apparently I don’t or we wouldn’t be breaking up.  Don’t try and tell me I’m so much better when you are breaking up with me.  Telling me I’m perfect in everyway only makes it worse you jackass.

I just can’t believe how big of a fool I was.  I gave him the benefit of the doubt so many times and stood up for him and this is how he fucking treats me.  I was so fucking good to him, unbelievable good.  The cincher?  He wants to stay friends.  I told him absolutely not, never.

I had purchased his Christmas gift on eBay last night to.  GREAT!  Its non-returnable.  He says he’s going to buy it from me and I’m alright with that.  I need to get my Micro SD card I borrowed him back anyways.  After that time I never want to see the dipshit again.  What a fucking weasel.  UGH!  I HATE MEN!

When is it enough? People face breakdowns constantly. Doctors force Prozac down the throats of the emotionally unstable, but who’s to say what is emotionally incorrect and correct? Most people can control how they feel overall by just staying positive, but no one does. We’re in a society where we have large groups of individuals who practice in self-mutilation, and suicide has been escalating. Why?

In a world with internet, books, and a variety of new liberties as opposed to earlier dates we’re depressed as ever. Maybe it’s the very things that connect us with people we love that are destroying us. Whenever you’re on the bus, or in a room full of people you can tune out the entire world with an mp3 player. We block out almost every annoyance in our lives, Medicine, Internet, Portable Devices… We can avoid going to a market filled with others and have something delivered whether it be by phone, or computer. In fact we’ve blocked almost every irritation from our lives that when were finally faced with one, we don’t know how to handle it.

Whenever someone says something we don’t agree with, we can simply ignore them easily. Delete their comment, ignore their call, anything. This brings me to another point, who’s a lot of people who are constantly in our life? Our friends? Most people can’t find anyone they can truly trust. Try naming someone you could completely trust with a really deep secret? Most people can’t find one person according to recent studies a lot of people don’t even have 1 person they can confide in. We have all this unlimited communication, yet we still can’t accurately communicate.

Our sense to have an actual conversation with people is collapsing, Most people are facing depression and irritable moods because of something that can be easily fixed, and demonstrated by earlier generations. Our parents and grandparents who lived in times more miserable still were happier. What is our society amounting to?

The subject of emotions and feelings is one that can be very frightening and often misunderstood.  My personal experiences with the subject have taken quite a few turns and have grown a lot in the last few years. 

First off it is often true of those of us that grew up in a highly dysfunctional home learned several unhealthy coping mechanisms that stifled our feelings or directed them in harmful ways.  Second, many of us never had anyone who really knew how to model healthy ways to deal with emotions.  And third, some of us were taught some misinterpreted scripture references to deal with emotions.

In his book “A Gift to Myself” the workbook for the Best Selling “Healing the Child Within” Dr. Charles L. Whitfield points out how important it is for us to properly name feelings.  Instead of using words such as “depression”, “anxiety”,” resentment”, “high” instead call them “ sadness”, “fear”, “anger”, “joy”.  He further goes on to point out that we can heal and grow by using feelings.  By recognizing the feeling, feeling it – go ahead and be angry or sad etc. Name the feeling and then express it and finally use it constructively. 

I have seen the power in using this technique lately.  In the last few years alone I have gone through the challenges of being laid off, a church split, a failed business, a divorce, being let down by longtime friends, estrangement from family, fatal car accident, unemployment, bankruptcy, foreclosure, and my U of A Wildcats are still the only football team in the PAC-10 to have never gone to the Rose Bowl……

It is easy to say – I am depressed, anxious, and or resentful about this stuff – In fact I am depressed just writing out that list…

But the more truthful statements are:  “I am sad about the things that have happened.”  “I am fearful that I will be considered a failure by my children and friends who I have hurt or let down over the last several years.”   I have had to force myself to dig deep and say those things out loud to myself, to God, and to guys in the support group I attend. 

The more I say it the more I can decide what to do about those feelings.  I have learned that those feelings are reasonable in some cases.  In some cases those feelings are not based in reality.  I am not a failure just because I feel like a failure.  In fact I am not a failure at all. 

I remember being taught by someone studying the bible with me years ago that when Jesus says “you must deny yourself” in order to follow him he not only meant materially but that you must deny your emotions too.  For someone who already knew how to suppress his emotions due in large part to the dysfunction he grew up in it was easy for me to buy that reasoning.  I mean, emotions were just scary and dark anyway right….  What I failed to understand is that the black and white approach that had worked so well for me in my life up that point was exactly what I did NOT need in order to understand how vital emotions were to Christianity.  Take for instance David in the Psalms – He asks God to ‘smash the teeth of his enemy”, He pleads for God to “put an end” to his enemies.  He goes on to sing and dance and rejoice and tell God how incredible he is.  He also tells God how discouraged and hopeless he feels.

The Apostle Paul – in Galatians he tells those that believe in circumcision to go and “emasculate” themselves.  He opposed Peter to his face.  He mocks the church in Corinth for their behavior and the reasons he has to defend his ministry.   And then there is Jesus himself – making a whip out of cord and clearing the temple.  Weeping at the death of a friend named Lazarus and calling the Pharisees whitewashed tombs and a brood of vipers.  Each account shows us how real and normal emotions are. 

Emotions are real.  There are no good or bad emotions.  In the moment whatever we are feeling is absolutely true for us.   Growing in awareness and learning to process the emotions in a healthy way is what is important.  Whether you work on how to process your emotions in therapy or a support group does not matter.   It is just important to begin to work on this important aspect of your life in a setting that will help sort out what to do with each emotion and model healthy options.

Take Care,

A

I recently finished scoring a short film by Josiah Signor – Homecoming. I attempted to illustrate the emotions of this intimate and moving film with the simple instrumentation of clarinet, viola, cello, piano, harp, and percussion.

I had to endure twenty-four hours of solitude in my own home this weekend. Because I had read my ticket wrong, I ended up returning home from France a day earlier than I had told Logan and he was still in Joplin. So after being away from him for over a week, I had to be away from him some more. Not only that, but he took Mabel.

I’m actually quite comfortable with being by myself. I rarely get frightened and I relish time to catch up on housework, watch “Project Runway” while I eat my lunch, and talk on the phone as long as I want. But there was a certain “unaloneness” in that day. It seems I am so used to having Logan and Mabel around that their presence was nearly as strong as if they were actually there. Even though they were gone, the empty space was so significant that it almost became a presence in itself, keeping them there and in my memory.

Logan is an extremely light sleeper and it has become a kind of love for me to not touch him during the night, so that he might not be startled out of his illusive sleep. But when he is gone, even though I could sprawl out on the bed, I sleep tightly tucked into my corner. Well, actually, I always sleep on his side when he’s gone. It helps, somehow, but I still don’t stray onto the other side of the bed, and I believe it’s because I’m still afraid I’ll wake him.

When I walk in the door, I bend down subconsciously, as though to say, “Off, Mabel!” and keep her from jumping.

When I took out the trash, something jingled in the bag and sounded like Mabel’s collar. I looked over my shoulder for her.

When I sit at the table to eat, his chair seems full of him, and I turn my computer slightly, so he can see the screen.

It was the same for Logan as well. While I was in France, he said that when he walked in the door everyday, Mabel would run up to him to be pet and then she would go stand by the door, waiting for me. I told Logan, “You should really hope that nothing happens to me before I get back, or that will be unbearably sad for you.”

The empty spaces were a reminder of to us of our loneliness and yet they also became a comfort, reminding us that we have someone in our lives and that person is usually here, just not now.

Logan is here now, sitting on the couch, twirling a strand of his hair. Mabel is whimpering beside him, telling him that it is supper time. The empty space was been filled with flesh and blood and heart. The ghosts have gone.

There is a site, it’s called, www.Okcupid.com that has lots of fun tests (not as fun as the ones on Blogthings though!) but it is also a dating/social networking site. It’s very creepy. I’ve been getting messages from guys that are 25+ on there that are very straight forward and they’re like, “Before we hang out, I wanna know…”. And I’m thinking, “Who said anything about hanging out? Who said anything about me even LOOKING for someone? Especially someone 12 years older than me?”

It’s weird. I mean, yeah, blame me for signing up. But I thought it was only about quizzes. When I realized it wasn’t like that, I wasn’t too freaked out cause tickle.com was also a dating site that had quizzes and I never got a creepy message like that. I don’t know…strange, isn’t it?

And it’s almost as if they don’t even read on the little details thing below my face that I am 18. It says 18/F/single. Yes, it means legal, but it also means…ugh. I don’t know what it means. I see why I’m getting messages now. Well, I still blame them – most 18 year old girls don’t feel comfortable about dating a 28 year old guy. Geez. I should change my status for “not looking, never will look, shut up.”

Sigh…but I humor them. I answer their stupid questions, like, “Do you like to ride beach cruisers?” Sometimes I realize that’s why those people are on dating sites. They’re looking for all the wrong things. Doesn’t it matter more if they’re loyal, intelligent, attentive? They ask insignificant things. And if you answer one question wrong (God forbid!!) – BAM! – they stop replying to your messages. Funny world. It doesn’t require you to put much effort in the person you want as your one and only companion. Except, most of those guys probably are for polygamy, so, never mind.

It was 1.07a.m last night (or was it this morning?) when I came to a conclusion. I did this with R.E.M on replay, watching wispy shapes on the ceiling made by the passing headlights of cars.

The conclusion is (drumroll please)…

…no one really knows the real me.

Nothing particularly revelatory there. It’s the kind of thing people sing about. We all think we know the truth to that statement. And so did I. But it was only last night that I acutely felt the reality of it.

I’ve always been an intensely private person. I knew that right from the start, I was different in so many ways. I was aware that my skin colour differed from my peers, that my hair was curly and not straight. I was overweight. My family was different too—my father never signed my report card. I felt the need to conceal all these from people. I became ashamed about my unique situation and resolved never to reveal too much about myself to others.

While I’ve had firm friendships, I’ve never a friend whom I’ve bared my soul to. It hurts me to say this, but that’s the truth. Everyone gets a piece of me, but then again, it’s just a piece. While in recent years I’ve become more comfortable about talking about my dysfunctional family, there’s still so much I’m hoarding inside. I’m afraid that no one will really understand.

My mother thinks she knows me, but at last she doesn’t. This is particularly sad as she’s my closest friend, and yet my closest friend barely treads the tip of the iceberg that is me.

This became apparent after a short argument I had with her. I wanted so much to shake her and say, “But I’m not like that!” And then I realised that by doing so, I would be destroying her image of me. The person that she wanted me to be, all her life. So my temper deflated and I let it pass. In those few minutes, the space between the both of us widened into a gulf. She seemed a few light-years away.

At 1.07a.m last night, with R.E.M on replay, my relationships with people felt as insignificant as the shapes on the ceiling.

For the first time, I felt very much alone.