Sunday, January 18, 2015

Because I'm a little long winded

I've created a new blog as a companion to Sweetbriar's because I tend to be a little long winded when it comes to the things of God, and I enjoy it. There is no end to His beauty and wisdom, and I could go on forever about everything I find in Him - but I have no outlet for that.

....and you can read the rest of it here.

Saturday, January 17, 2015

The Saturday tradition

And then there are other dreams.

Yeah, I know I just said I couldn't sleep for the terrors in the night, but those are my brain vomiting out what has poisoned it, the daily housekeeping of the mind that I might live. Thankfully, there is a sleep just before the alarm sounds that is both the deepest and the most interesting, usually with dreams I wish I could record in every dimension.  I can't count the number of times I've had ones that were just peculiar until I described them to myself, and then translating them from images to words made everything sensible, like the one where the guy broke off from doing something and went over to pick up the telephone. He was just "phoning it in." Get it? Oh, well...

So, anyway, yesterday morning I had a very cool one, the last bit is the only part I still remember today, although the whole thing was good. There were maybe about 15 women sitting around talking casually about their lives and the things of God, all to one another, and I suspect they were all parts of me even though they were very different in appearance and natures. A young woman perched on the chesterfield turned to me and asked, "So how do you keep your 'verve' ?" I can still see her lively concern, speaking with her hands, trying to stir the word up into the very air. And I answered her. "You have to pray in tongues every day."

And about there I woke up.

The Lord has been talking to me about this for years, but I just couldn't "get it." Oh, I received the baptism of the Holy Spirit WITH the evidence of speaking in tongues about twenty years ago (yikes! that long ago?!), but I never could quite grasp the recommendation many of my teachers in the faith have made to pray in tongues every day for no other reason than just to edify myself. (I Cor 14:4, Jude 20) It just seemed a bit abusive, or perhaps turning the gift into a rote parlour trick. I just didn't have a handle on that aspect of it yet. But since I had that dream, I understand it and I understand why I need it.

I'll let you know one day how it turns out for me.

Until then, I can still recommend by experience my usual Saturday morning habit, which is to crank up the music and worship God while I clean house. Usually there's more worship than house cleaning, but that's just because it restores my soul worn ragged with a week of work in an unhappy world and the house can wait! I sat down here to fire off only a word about how sweet it is to spend the morning in love with God, but as you can see, I've gone much longer and rather further afield than I had planned. Just the same, here's a link to a great worship song that kept the terrors of real life from overwhelming me one long dark night a few years ago, and a video of another one below.

There's no one like Him, no one anywhere. Seek Him. He's waiting eagerly to be found.  This post needs a full rewrite and a photo, but I can't stay away from Him any longer. 



Tuesday, January 13, 2015

FB is useless

No one is ever around for the nightmares, and you wouldn't dare ruin someone else's sleep with them if they were. I wish it would rain, just for a bit. 

Friday, January 9, 2015

Fighting fire with kerosene

I like Miranda Lambert. She can write a honey of a song. I've been liking this one for awhile but I had to play it for awhile to remember why.






Thankfully, the next song on my rotation was Kerosene.







When I posted this photo on FB, the song I linked to there was The House That Built Me. That was about two years ago when I was still collecting family photos and trying to uncover the whys and wherefores. Last year I went to a ship reunion with Dad and his wife, and one day just he and I went to find the house we lived in then, drove by the church I was dedicated in, and tour the base where he was stationed during one of his favorite duty assignments. The street had been renumbered, so we couldn't be exactly sure, but it was a sweet day remembering the things that once had been. 





Because we were a Navy family, all the moving and loss of friends and connections made me think for decades that if only I could go back and find those people and places again, that maybe I could resolve the swells of emotion that would just come up, and for which I had no answer. We never had pictures out or displayed, my parents never maintained contact with anyone from anywhere in the form of letters or visits, family history and personal history always disappeared into a black hole. Like the song, I thought if only I could touch those places again I could find where I disappeared, I could find myself. 

Complex PTSD and Emotional Flashbacks

I guess you could call it a memory issue, but it isn't really unresolved grief, it's unresolved emotions of every kind. Here's a video and a link to a fantastic article about it. Just gotta keep working thru it, but it's been really comforting here lately to begin to recognize it for what it is, instead of just sinking down into it like blindfolded hostage and letting it rule over me. 
"Life ain't hard but it's too long 
livin' like some country song"



Flashback Management in Treatment of Complex PTSD, by Pete Walker







Right thru the heart

This video just caught me off guard. It's beautiful. It's the way it should be, not every day, but some days. I didn't know that until I was in my 40's, and that makes me so ashamed - for my family, for me, for everything that was lost.

It's the voices of the mother and the daughter.






When I was about that little girl's age I chose to stop calling my mother "Mommy." It was the only way I could push back against her constant, consuming encroachment. I only called her Mother from then on.

She never noticed. Ever.

It isn't that I stopped loving her, I never stopped loving her. It's that my love never mattered, she never wanted it. I wasn't important enough to her that my love was desirable and something to be cultivated and earned and rewarded, she was well satisfied just using me.

Living that way at home teaches you to settle for living that way with friends and "lovers." It's no good.

Thursday, January 8, 2015

Passionate? About what?






Since HGTV won't give me a Sarah fix, I went looking for what I could find on the youtubes, and found this little video. If you aren't a Sarah Richardson design fan, don't bother watching, but listening to her talk while I clean house (a very Sarah thing to do,) I finally got why I never went after a particular career goal and why I still have trouble saying I'm "passionate" about anything.

Passion is about having a strong feeling or desire that you will not have denied. No matter how much work it takes to satisfy it, no matter how long the hours and great the effort you have to put into it, if you are passionate about it, you will persist.

If while growing up you are not permitted to feel your own feelings, if you can Never say "I want this and Not that," but must tend to and obey and satisfy and attempt to regulate someone else's feelings for fear of the repercussions if you don't - then you will give up on your own feelings long before they are satisfied. Or, for some people, you'll redirect your feelings into something else just to get to feel something. It could be addiction, or rebellion, or just something other than what the original emotion was all about.

A vocational career that aligns who you are to what you do comes out of experiencing your own feelings and desires as they come and making your own decisions on how you will act in response to them. If you have spent years chasing around someone else's ideas of what is delightful, you may find many of those things truly interesting, but you'll never be passionate about them. It's a nine to five job that never ends. 

I'm in my fifties now. That's a hell of a time to start finding out what I really like and enjoy doing. I'm way past dropping everything and starting over. But I also think that there's no other way to be comfortable in my own skin anymore. Trying to be a fictional character, a mental construct of someone else, is a killer. I really believe I was headed for an early grave, not by suicide, but by the stress of it all.  Apparently who you really are must come out.

“It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for a bird to learn to fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad.”

Wednesday, January 7, 2015

Blooms in winter



A word before sleeping, posting from my iPad from the first time. It's cold tonight and I want to keep my feet tucked under the covers and my words brief. Sometimes speaking ruins the mind. 

Having a bit of a time getting this bunch of flowers to bloom out, but they are lovely as is. I don't even think I retouched the photo, it's just fuzzy from the iPad camera. It's difficult to say if the house is getting more organized, but some things are happening. After I got home from errands this evening, I went looking for some books I promised to send to a friend. I couldn't find one of them, but instead ran across a little paperback of Like Water for Chocolate, and seeing it takes twelve chapters for the twelve months I thought I'd start it and at least do the first one for January.

I've not read any fiction in decades. I used to read loads of it, right up thru my twenties, but I somehow lost the desire for things that just weren't true at 30. It's alright, we all go thru phases. If you've read the book, you'll know it's short, and I finished it in about two hours. If you remember the story, you'll know it's dead on the mark for the things I'm working thru these days.

I'll tell you my little story that's like the book. There's a photograph of me where I'm about two, still in a diaper and it's almost bedtime. Dad has come home and he's eating ice cream out of a glass on the couch and I'm doing my best bird imitation trying to get him to feed me the ice cream instead. It was a good ploy and it worked fairly well. Mother is the one taking the picture. 

I've always remembered that incident, even tho the photograph did not reappear for about 15 years. I remember it from the inside looking out of my eyes, thinking my thoughts, working my little ice cream plan. I remember being irritated that Mother was interrupting my plan by calling attention to it, I was trying to keep it on the down low, just let that ice cream cruise right over into my mouth. I remember her going to get the camera and returning with it, giggling about how cute I was to Dad. I remember thinking, "I'm going to be burdened with her until she dies."

I wasn't saved then.

Having had that thought always bothered me. It was a very strange thought to have, I was always afraid that it was true. And it was. So now you can see how I found that little book of fiction very interesting. If you haven't read it, just read the first five pages standing in the book store. 

Now I'm going to sleep and let the whole book percolate in my dreams. Should be interesting.




Monday, January 5, 2015

On background

First flowers of the January Cure


I've changed the background back to one blogger provides. The tile effect just wasn't working for me. I've always liked this photo, I'm into decorating, but not quite on this scale. Just the same, I wouldn't mind sitting here and meditating on things awhile.

I was thinking the other day on why I post here, I can see that I'm a bit long winded and obscure for most people. You'd really have to have read all the posts from the beginning to have any clue at all to what I'm writing about. I was told by someone a couple of years ago that they thought my ADHD post really nailed it for them, which is fine, but no one really wants to discuss the other issues - including me! It's possible I put these things out there so that, when I'm done with it, it will make a coherent whole that will speak to someone else. This being the internet, it's just hanging out in the 'trons for anyone to find at any time, perhaps at the right time for them.

I've also considered that I can take this into another direction entirely, perhaps decorating, or food, or just a gigantic dump of that plus everything else I might consider interesting along the way. I couldn't seek out traffic, simply because I can't support traffic. The need to post to keep an audience entertained on a regular basis would backfire right into my ADD and I would become resentful and harried in very short order. Not everything is worth writing about and I've never had a care whether strangers much liked me at all.  That sort of attitude is really bad for sales popularity blog traffic.

....

After letting this sit for the night and taking up the world again this morning, I've decided to do "everything" for the month of January. I'm doing Apartment Therapy's January Cure for my house and I rather suspect that will be fodder for quite a few things that would be relevant to the ADD, codependency, life, and "fashion, beauty, and decorating" (said in my best Elsa Klensch voice.) I'm reading both Codependent No More and Facing Love Addiction at the same time and feeling the need for some serious C.S. Lewis, perhaps A Grief Observed, definitely The Weight of Glory (essay), and at some point The Silver Chair.

Until then, here's a bit of Elsa on decorating. Would that HGTV would put one hour per week of programming of this quality. It would make the channel worthwhile. Except for Sarah, I love Sarah.