A reader posted a comment on yesterday's post, about "Keep it Simple." Now there's a mantra for cancer treatment craziness.
When it comes down to what really needs to be accomplished today, and what can wait - Keep it Simple - we need groceries to fill the fridge, more than we need to drop off extra supplies back at a hospital office kind enough to give them to us in the first place. We have to eat today - they have sufficient supplies that our paltry return will be as nothing on those well-stocked shelves.
When it comes down to what each of us can bear, if Robert needs a time-out to straighten his head or just have the cool water of peace swish through his soul, then keep it simple - make the space for him to go off alone and putter, by giving myself the space to start a painting, cut out a garment I wish to sew, or do one of a zillion things I can do, alone and happy.
When the logistics are getting complicated about who can drive me where, to get this or that done on this or that day at this or that time, and I can't yet feel comfortable driving myself to a distant hospital for a CT scan to stage the tumour - keep it simple - call my sponsor/dear friend and ASK. She of course agreed, which means I get to have a meeting with my sponsor and some wonderful laughs and the pleasure of her company, making this an outing I can enjoy instead of just another obligation.
Keep it Simple. Cut my day down into bite-size chews, and that way I'm not faced with a mountain I think I need to devour within the next ten minutes; I can take it one step, one day at a time.
Thank you for that blessing,
Showing posts with label self-acceptance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label self-acceptance. Show all posts
Friday, February 13, 2015
Wednesday, January 21, 2015
Emotional Wealth.
These days, thanks to the wonders of Al-Anon, I have great emotional wealth. My dictionary defines
"wealth" as an abundance of valuable resources, and I certainly have been granted that. I have the valuable resource of program wisdom, and I have been truly blessed with an abundance of friends to walk this path with me.
I have friends with whom I keep in touch, who live in cities many miles away, but I am able to get together with them for lunch and a visit every few months. In between visits, we exchange regular emails, and I smile to see their names in my email inbox. They are a richness in my life. Some are in program, some are not, it doesn't matter, we are close, and they add greatly to my joy.
One of the unexpected blessings of this cancer journey is that I have been allowed to realise how I am loved, by the way my friends have responded, with support, encouragement, humour and anything else I've needed, whether I knew I needed it, or only they knew.
I have a sponsor with whom I can speak with utter honesty. Last week before the meeting, she hugged me and asked how I was - I wasn't doing well last week, and when she gazed at me, concern and humour and affection in her eyes, I was completely undone, and began to weep. She stood up, came to me, and held me in her arms while I wept. I felt so safe and cared for. It was exactly what I needed, and it gave me the release of tears and the comfort of her arms around me. Of such relatively small but important things are friendships forged and solidified.
We make each other laugh like crazy, and can talk about anything - what an enormous gift.
Before Al-Anon, I didn't know how to be a good friend. I used what I jokingly call "The Mafia solution" when I was angry or disappointed in someone - "You are dead to me from this moment!"
- I'd just cut them off, and never speak to them again. I couldn't deal with conflict, so I just avoided it by avoiding them.
Al-Anon has taught me how to give, and how to receive love. Never, before Robert, had I ever thought I would love a man the way I love him. And never did I think a man would love me the way he loves me.
I have great emotional wealth, and it sustains me through whatever it is that's happening. I know I have people who love me, and I know I have plenty of people I love and adore. I am a truly lucky woman.
Thanks so much to all who have written their support and encouragement on this blog, it means a lot to me, and I'm grateful that you have taken the time and effort.
"wealth" as an abundance of valuable resources, and I certainly have been granted that. I have the valuable resource of program wisdom, and I have been truly blessed with an abundance of friends to walk this path with me.
I have friends with whom I keep in touch, who live in cities many miles away, but I am able to get together with them for lunch and a visit every few months. In between visits, we exchange regular emails, and I smile to see their names in my email inbox. They are a richness in my life. Some are in program, some are not, it doesn't matter, we are close, and they add greatly to my joy.
One of the unexpected blessings of this cancer journey is that I have been allowed to realise how I am loved, by the way my friends have responded, with support, encouragement, humour and anything else I've needed, whether I knew I needed it, or only they knew.
I have a sponsor with whom I can speak with utter honesty. Last week before the meeting, she hugged me and asked how I was - I wasn't doing well last week, and when she gazed at me, concern and humour and affection in her eyes, I was completely undone, and began to weep. She stood up, came to me, and held me in her arms while I wept. I felt so safe and cared for. It was exactly what I needed, and it gave me the release of tears and the comfort of her arms around me. Of such relatively small but important things are friendships forged and solidified.
We make each other laugh like crazy, and can talk about anything - what an enormous gift.
Before Al-Anon, I didn't know how to be a good friend. I used what I jokingly call "The Mafia solution" when I was angry or disappointed in someone - "You are dead to me from this moment!"
- I'd just cut them off, and never speak to them again. I couldn't deal with conflict, so I just avoided it by avoiding them.
Al-Anon has taught me how to give, and how to receive love. Never, before Robert, had I ever thought I would love a man the way I love him. And never did I think a man would love me the way he loves me.
I have great emotional wealth, and it sustains me through whatever it is that's happening. I know I have people who love me, and I know I have plenty of people I love and adore. I am a truly lucky woman.
Thanks so much to all who have written their support and encouragement on this blog, it means a lot to me, and I'm grateful that you have taken the time and effort.
Thursday, January 23, 2014
Obsession
Two days ago, I dropped my steam iron, and since the floors here are cement under the carpet or linoleum, the distance from the ironing board to the floor was enough to finish it off. Not only did the plastic post holding the soleplate to the body of the iron snap, but the thermostat also broke, rendering it a one-temperature iron, and that temperature was "too high." Since I do a fair amount of sewing, for which a decent iron is a necessity if one wishes results professional in appearance, yesterday I walked in the glorious warm sunshine, to purchase a new one at the chain store a few blocks away.
Later in the afternoon, when he returned home, I was laughing as I described for Robert my shopping experience. None of the irons were on display, and I'm not about to buy an iron I haven't hefted for weight and ease of use, so I rather nervously ignored the sign instructing customers to NOT OPEN THE BOXES and when I found a likely model, squatted down on the floor with my prize, and hauled it out of the box. Because of my willingness to do this, I discovered that the iron I was leaning towards getting, had a "shot of steam" button located at the front underside of the handle, right where it would irritate and annoy my hand during sustained use. After half an hour of disregarding that notice, taking irons out of their boxes, examining them, and putting them back, I found an iron I liked, and debating the price with myself for a while, finally decided to buy the blessed thing so I could return home and begin work on the winter coat I'm making for myself.
Some of you may be wondering how the title of this post has any bearing upon the content. It occurred to me that because of Al-Anon, any annoyance or frustration I felt about breaking an iron of which I was rather fond, lasted less than a minute. I had the initial sensation of "Oh, blast!" but that was quickly replaced with shrugging shoulders, and an acceptance of the loss. One cannot un-ring a bell.
Before program, I'd have chastised myself mercilessly for catching my foot in the cord and pulling the iron onto the floor. I'd have spend hours berating myself for not storing the cord at the back of the ironing board instead of at the front, and I'd have been intensely frustrated about having been the cause of the destruction of a favourite item.
No more. When I consider the myriad past hours of my life spent bashing myself for my real and imagined inadequacies and faults, I feel for that woman I once was, who lived with minimal self-esteem, and crushing burden of perfectionism, regret and anger. Obsession was entwined with my lack of self-acceptance, and the belief that somehow, some way, I should be able to go through life without screwing things up all the time.
What an amazing sense of release and serenity, has come with the knowledge that we are all continually making mistakes, and that most of us have an impossible standard for ourselves. I'm grateful for my sponsors, who have sat in loving communion with me, as I struggled and squirmed against the realisation that what I'd once blamed upon outside forces, or other people, was in fact evidence of my own human frailty.
That's all, merely evidence of my human frailties.
I wasn't, and am not, a monster of any sort, I'm only human, and cannot do what isn't humanly possible. I can't be perfect, so why try? Why lash myself when I fall short of perfection, as I am bound to do?
When I got off my own back, I discovered that I can be loving and accepting of the human frailties of my fellow travellers, in Al-Anon and outside of it. When mistakes are made, and a friend, family member or sponsee is rushing to blame, reproach and castigate themselves, I try to find the most loving way possible to remind them that we may be imperfect, but we are not flawed.
Mistakes can be an invitation for hours of depressed obsession and fixating upon what we most dislike about ourselves, or they can be a learning experience - what can I take from this to help me in future?
Be kind and loving to yourself, whether you've had an excellent easy day, or a difficult and frustrating one. You deserve to be loved, because you are an amazing gift. Try to remember that, next time the temptation to obsess about what you are not, arises.
Letting go of obsessing, and accepting myself as I am just exactly this moment, not as I might be were I to work hard at self-improvement for another 15 years, gives me the freedom to enjoy today.
Later in the afternoon, when he returned home, I was laughing as I described for Robert my shopping experience. None of the irons were on display, and I'm not about to buy an iron I haven't hefted for weight and ease of use, so I rather nervously ignored the sign instructing customers to NOT OPEN THE BOXES and when I found a likely model, squatted down on the floor with my prize, and hauled it out of the box. Because of my willingness to do this, I discovered that the iron I was leaning towards getting, had a "shot of steam" button located at the front underside of the handle, right where it would irritate and annoy my hand during sustained use. After half an hour of disregarding that notice, taking irons out of their boxes, examining them, and putting them back, I found an iron I liked, and debating the price with myself for a while, finally decided to buy the blessed thing so I could return home and begin work on the winter coat I'm making for myself.
Some of you may be wondering how the title of this post has any bearing upon the content. It occurred to me that because of Al-Anon, any annoyance or frustration I felt about breaking an iron of which I was rather fond, lasted less than a minute. I had the initial sensation of "Oh, blast!" but that was quickly replaced with shrugging shoulders, and an acceptance of the loss. One cannot un-ring a bell.
Before program, I'd have chastised myself mercilessly for catching my foot in the cord and pulling the iron onto the floor. I'd have spend hours berating myself for not storing the cord at the back of the ironing board instead of at the front, and I'd have been intensely frustrated about having been the cause of the destruction of a favourite item.
No more. When I consider the myriad past hours of my life spent bashing myself for my real and imagined inadequacies and faults, I feel for that woman I once was, who lived with minimal self-esteem, and crushing burden of perfectionism, regret and anger. Obsession was entwined with my lack of self-acceptance, and the belief that somehow, some way, I should be able to go through life without screwing things up all the time.
What an amazing sense of release and serenity, has come with the knowledge that we are all continually making mistakes, and that most of us have an impossible standard for ourselves. I'm grateful for my sponsors, who have sat in loving communion with me, as I struggled and squirmed against the realisation that what I'd once blamed upon outside forces, or other people, was in fact evidence of my own human frailty.
That's all, merely evidence of my human frailties.
I wasn't, and am not, a monster of any sort, I'm only human, and cannot do what isn't humanly possible. I can't be perfect, so why try? Why lash myself when I fall short of perfection, as I am bound to do?
When I got off my own back, I discovered that I can be loving and accepting of the human frailties of my fellow travellers, in Al-Anon and outside of it. When mistakes are made, and a friend, family member or sponsee is rushing to blame, reproach and castigate themselves, I try to find the most loving way possible to remind them that we may be imperfect, but we are not flawed.
Mistakes can be an invitation for hours of depressed obsession and fixating upon what we most dislike about ourselves, or they can be a learning experience - what can I take from this to help me in future?
Be kind and loving to yourself, whether you've had an excellent easy day, or a difficult and frustrating one. You deserve to be loved, because you are an amazing gift. Try to remember that, next time the temptation to obsess about what you are not, arises.
Letting go of obsessing, and accepting myself as I am just exactly this moment, not as I might be were I to work hard at self-improvement for another 15 years, gives me the freedom to enjoy today.
Thursday, October 17, 2013
What Do I Have To Offer?
In Al-Anon, a sponsor can be of invaluable help. For those of us who start out with firmly closed minds and determined ideas, a sponsor can, with a combination of direct speaking, humour and encouragement, create a safe enough environment that we can begin to step out from behind our social mask of "Oh, fine thank you!" to reveal the true feelings we carry. These may include rage, fear, frustration, loneliness, or despair that we will ever attain the serenity about which we hear so much.
When I was first asked to sponsor someone, I was terrified; I couldn't see what on earth she thought I had to give. I still often felt like I was barely managing to maintain my newfound serenity. When I asked her, a long time later, it turned out that she liked my ability to laugh. She felt as though she'd lost her sense of humour completely, and she wanted it back more than anything else she could imagine; she wanted to be able to howl with laughter. This member felt that she'd evolved into a dry and serious woman who could barely muster a fake chuckle, and she wanted to be able to laugh until her eyes were wet, and her stomach muscles hurt. She remembered laughing like that in childhood, and early adulthood, before her marriage to an alcoholic. The constant financial problems, other stresses, strains and heartbreak, had slowly eroded her ability to find humour in everyday life.
When I hear those who have a strong program declare that they don't sponsor, because they don't belive they've got anything to give to a sponsee, I will sometimes tell them this story. Perhaps they have the idea that they need to be deeply involved in Al-Anon, with many years of experience, and lofty things to share at meetings, before they will be of value as a sponsor. For me, it was my ability to see the humour in the small things we observe, the silly choices we can make, the ironies of our behavior, that were attractive to my first sponsee. She wanted to hang out with someone who laughed often, in the hopes that she'd be able to regain her sense of humour, and she did. We used to have long involved philosophical discussions punctuated by helpless laughing fits. She told me many times over the years that it was my ability to laugh at my own craziness which made it possible for her to loosen her iron grip on her self-control, and let go of her desire to be perfect.
So please, don't refuse to sponsor because you don't think you've got anything to offer - what you have in abundance, may be just what another member so desperately needs.
When I was first asked to sponsor someone, I was terrified; I couldn't see what on earth she thought I had to give. I still often felt like I was barely managing to maintain my newfound serenity. When I asked her, a long time later, it turned out that she liked my ability to laugh. She felt as though she'd lost her sense of humour completely, and she wanted it back more than anything else she could imagine; she wanted to be able to howl with laughter. This member felt that she'd evolved into a dry and serious woman who could barely muster a fake chuckle, and she wanted to be able to laugh until her eyes were wet, and her stomach muscles hurt. She remembered laughing like that in childhood, and early adulthood, before her marriage to an alcoholic. The constant financial problems, other stresses, strains and heartbreak, had slowly eroded her ability to find humour in everyday life.
When I hear those who have a strong program declare that they don't sponsor, because they don't belive they've got anything to give to a sponsee, I will sometimes tell them this story. Perhaps they have the idea that they need to be deeply involved in Al-Anon, with many years of experience, and lofty things to share at meetings, before they will be of value as a sponsor. For me, it was my ability to see the humour in the small things we observe, the silly choices we can make, the ironies of our behavior, that were attractive to my first sponsee. She wanted to hang out with someone who laughed often, in the hopes that she'd be able to regain her sense of humour, and she did. We used to have long involved philosophical discussions punctuated by helpless laughing fits. She told me many times over the years that it was my ability to laugh at my own craziness which made it possible for her to loosen her iron grip on her self-control, and let go of her desire to be perfect.
So please, don't refuse to sponsor because you don't think you've got anything to offer - what you have in abundance, may be just what another member so desperately needs.
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Self-Acceptance
I got an email from my oldest sister on Saturday, someone she'd not heard from in 25 years had gotten her email address from a mutual acquaintance, and had begun sending her nasty emails. Why do people do this? It got me thinking about my husband, who would say hurtful things to me and if I protested, defend his meanness as "Just a joke."
I tried for years to accept his "jokes" and not feel hurt or offended or upset, until one day when I realised that I didn't care whether his latest remark had been intended as a joke, or not, I wasn't going to accept another sniping comment from him, and try to "be a good sport" and choke it down. I began to calmly state that I didn't like what he'd just said, I didn't accept it as a joke, I thought it was unkind and mocking, and I would appreciate if he stopped making those sorts of comments. It took a little while, but he did stop, because I challenged the unkindness each and every time.
We teach people how to treat us. All the years in which I tried to tell myself that he was "only joking" while feeling hurt by his latest sarcastic remark, I wasn't accepting the validity of my own feelings. Somehow, the questions about "Can't you take a joke?" would play into my own lack of self-acceptance, and it wasn't until I could say to myself, and then to him, "I don't deserve to be mocked or treated this way" that I was able to set a boundary around this behavior of his, and tell him, "If you continue to make that kind of comment, I'm not going to have this conversation with you."
Before I could do anything about setting a boundary, I had to accept myself as I was just that minute. Not as I might be if, as he was prone to state, I "had a better sense of humour," but as I was right then. I needed to believe that who I was mattered, that I had the right to say I didn't like what was happening, and then, if it continued, to walk away. For a lot of years, I was still trying to convince him that he was in the wrong for saying mean things to me and defending them as "jokes." It wasn't until I gave up trying to change his behavior, and instead, changed my own - stopped accepting his unacceptable behavior and blaming myself for it - that anything outside of me changed.
I'm only now beginning to understand just how much responsibility I took on in the marriage, for his feelings, and his attitudes. I had to be away from him for quite a few months before I could begin to grasp that the way he treated me triggered the ideas instilled in my crazy abusive childhood - that I was a bad person.
I hadn't challenged that below-the-surface feeling, I just accepted it as truth, it was an old fear I'd carried, that no matter how hard I tried, no matter what I did in 12-Step or out of it, I was a bad person, In the wierd way these things work, somehow, I think I believed that he'd "found me out" and was treating me accordingly.
The longer I'm in program, the more important I believe kindness to be - to others, of course, but also to ourselves.
I know full well how soul-destroying it can be, if we are the recipient of an unprovoked attack, as my sister has been, and instead of being able to see that attack clearly, we accept the given responsibility for it.
Re-reading this for editing purposes, it sounds a little - insane. I am grateful for my Higher Power, who is restoring me to sanity. I'm also grateful for the kindness I've been shown by so many other people in the last 8 months, and the kindness I've been able to feel towards myself. Self-acceptance is important for our serenity and our recovery.
I tried for years to accept his "jokes" and not feel hurt or offended or upset, until one day when I realised that I didn't care whether his latest remark had been intended as a joke, or not, I wasn't going to accept another sniping comment from him, and try to "be a good sport" and choke it down. I began to calmly state that I didn't like what he'd just said, I didn't accept it as a joke, I thought it was unkind and mocking, and I would appreciate if he stopped making those sorts of comments. It took a little while, but he did stop, because I challenged the unkindness each and every time.
We teach people how to treat us. All the years in which I tried to tell myself that he was "only joking" while feeling hurt by his latest sarcastic remark, I wasn't accepting the validity of my own feelings. Somehow, the questions about "Can't you take a joke?" would play into my own lack of self-acceptance, and it wasn't until I could say to myself, and then to him, "I don't deserve to be mocked or treated this way" that I was able to set a boundary around this behavior of his, and tell him, "If you continue to make that kind of comment, I'm not going to have this conversation with you."
Before I could do anything about setting a boundary, I had to accept myself as I was just that minute. Not as I might be if, as he was prone to state, I "had a better sense of humour," but as I was right then. I needed to believe that who I was mattered, that I had the right to say I didn't like what was happening, and then, if it continued, to walk away. For a lot of years, I was still trying to convince him that he was in the wrong for saying mean things to me and defending them as "jokes." It wasn't until I gave up trying to change his behavior, and instead, changed my own - stopped accepting his unacceptable behavior and blaming myself for it - that anything outside of me changed.
I'm only now beginning to understand just how much responsibility I took on in the marriage, for his feelings, and his attitudes. I had to be away from him for quite a few months before I could begin to grasp that the way he treated me triggered the ideas instilled in my crazy abusive childhood - that I was a bad person.
I hadn't challenged that below-the-surface feeling, I just accepted it as truth, it was an old fear I'd carried, that no matter how hard I tried, no matter what I did in 12-Step or out of it, I was a bad person, In the wierd way these things work, somehow, I think I believed that he'd "found me out" and was treating me accordingly.
The longer I'm in program, the more important I believe kindness to be - to others, of course, but also to ourselves.
I know full well how soul-destroying it can be, if we are the recipient of an unprovoked attack, as my sister has been, and instead of being able to see that attack clearly, we accept the given responsibility for it.
Re-reading this for editing purposes, it sounds a little - insane. I am grateful for my Higher Power, who is restoring me to sanity. I'm also grateful for the kindness I've been shown by so many other people in the last 8 months, and the kindness I've been able to feel towards myself. Self-acceptance is important for our serenity and our recovery.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Turning The Page.
I seem unable to write, lately. Or I can write, I just erase it all as soon as I read it over for editing purposes. (I've spent 2 hours trying to write a letter to my brother, who has been nothing but accepting and encouraging) The truth of my pain on ending my marriage of 17 years has more to do with loss of the dream than the relationship. The alcoholic had burnt away my feelings for him with his repeated lies.
One effect of all of this is that I cannot write upon my blog in the way I am accustomed: my old coping mechanisms are no longer needed, and in their passing is a freedom I'm not sure how to utilise.
I will be using the Al-Anon literature to help me through this writer's block. Please bear with me if my posts change form for a while.
One effect of all of this is that I cannot write upon my blog in the way I am accustomed: my old coping mechanisms are no longer needed, and in their passing is a freedom I'm not sure how to utilise.
I will be using the Al-Anon literature to help me through this writer's block. Please bear with me if my posts change form for a while.
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