Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Digging New Wells

Yesterday was a very shallow serotonin day in my emotional swimming pool. It felt as though someone had opened the drain and didn't tell me. It was also a day I had both kids at home.

Shallow pool + energetic kids=cloudy day with absolutely zero chance for meatballs!

At one point I was randomly cleaning and kept repeating this mantra, "At rest time I can cry. At rest time I can cry. At rest time...". I also got the urge to rearrange the furniture in the living room, with disastrous consequences. It ended badly with my 6 year old pushing up the t.v. I was barely holding, preventing it from crashing to the floor.

I put on some music. I sought the comfort and measure of grace imparted by singing to the One who made me. I couldn't remember the words. The kids did, so I sang along with them.

Rest time did indeed arrive. I showered, an attempt to wash the negativity and 'cloudiness' from my brain. I napped in the recliner as my oldest played on his DS game system. I didn't cry.

I was itchy on the inside. Or is it twitchy? I just needed to move. I needed to do. I needed something.

There is a bird bath sitting atop a large, rectangular flower bed in the front of my house. Once adorned with purple and pink pansies and other little flower thingies (a green thumb I am not), it became a pile of weeds and brown yuck. Every time I looked out the window of the living room/home office, I saw that pile of overgrown nothingness. Everyday I was reminded of the nothing.

Carrying a hoe, a shovel and dragging a wheel barrow, I tackled the bed of weeds. I hacked away, surprised at how deep the virulent, ugliness went. I was stung, literally, by the branches as I reached to pull them out. The twitchy/itchies went away, run off by hard labor.

My sons orbited around me. Wielding shovels, rakes and any tool I wasn't using, they dug in the newly turned dirt. The two year old had a running commentary of baby babble. It was if he was describing this very important project of digging and pouring the dirt on the other side. The six year old complained, and dug, then complained some more. He is on the varsity team of complaining.

Me? I kept digging. I was finally doing something. I was doing something with real results I could immediately see.

Hours went by in an instant. People came home ready for dinner, which I hadn't started yet. I was still raking and digging and hacking away.

I stopped and looked at my handiwork in the dimming daylight. My oldest took on the task of smoothing the dirt. The youngest was digging new holes. I had a thought.

It was these children who were the catalyst for the weeds growing in my emotional garden. It was these same children for whom I began the task of 'hacking' away at my own dysfunction. Often I am struck at the depth of the roots of my challenges, deeper into my childhood and very sense of self than I ever wanted to acknowledge. I am mystified at how a seemingly nebulous occurrence, such as seeing mom in a grocery store, could pack such a sting. I am cleaning out my own internal spiritual and emotional garden.

Could it be that they, too, will be the ones to smooth out the rocky places? Are they part of God's strategy to bring me into wholeness, healing and peace? Can they be the ones who, in my parenting of them, will help dig new, healthy wells from which living water can flow?

Deuteronomy 6: 10-12 "When God, your God, ushers you into the land he promised through your ancestors Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob to give you, you're going to walk into large, bustling cities you didn't build, well-furnished houses you didn't buy, come upon wells you didn't dig, vineyards and olive orchards you didn't plant. When you take it all in and settle down, pleased and content, make sure you don't forget how you got there—God brought you out of slavery in Egypt. "

God is bringing me out of slavery. I am promised to walk into a land of emotional and spiritual wholeness not entirely of my own making. I just need to walk into it. Then I need to take it all in, settle down and be content.

He, and the babbling, complaining angels in my life, are digging the new wells.


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Monday, October 19, 2009

Off the Rails to Get Back on Track

So, dear blogfriend, I haven't written in awhile. I have been completely off the rails. My eating plan of late? Eat as much as possible and wash it all down with Coca Cola. My exercise? Stretching to search through the cupboards for those cookies I KNOW I bought and hid a month ago. My sleep? In the chair while the kids watch toons. My poor husband has to suffer through my mood swings. I have been experimenting with all aspects of my temperment lately, and often at the same time (poor guy). I swing from being a marshmellow with a spongey center to being Hillary Clinton on steroids. Oy.

I've also been engaging in my favorite sport of late: depression fueled, anxiety driven, self-reflective navel gazing! My favoritest ever! It's that time in therapy/overcoming where we now are ready to tackle (drum roll please) MOTHER ISSUES!

How cliche. I mean really. However, one of my core issues deals with madness from the Motherland. If you have read this blog at all you would have noticed that indeed Mom and I aren't exactly doing each other's nails or sleeping over in fuzzy jammies. She ain't fuzzy and I often feel like nails on a chalkboard.

But it is time. It is time to overcome that aspect of my brokedown psyche/soul and move on.

Here's my newest and most precious revelation. It came to me in church yesterday. I had to go with only my oldest son, as the baby had a fever and weird goop in one eye. That combined with an early Steeler game and my recent loveliness of temperment, made my husband a more than willing stay at home dad yesterday.

So there I sat, beside my mother-goddess friend/island of serenity and sanity, Beth. The sermon was good. It was even great. My revelation, however, didn't really relate to that. Sorry PB.

It was this. Stay with me on this for a mo'.

Maybe, depite all the evidence to the contrary, the tough emotional history, the apparent lack of seratonin in my emotional swimming pool, the rejection from my mother-maybe, just maybe, I DON'T HAVE TO BE CRAZY. Maybe I can be normal, whole and healed. Maybe I can, and should, be an overcomer of all that nonsense. Maybe I AM NOT REALLY THAT DAMAGED LITTLE GIRL. Maybe I am a whole, strong, woman who happens to need a little fine tuning. Maybe, just maybe, underneath the veneer of craziness, is a person God created to be whole, happy and, well, ME.

Ironically, it sounds a little crazy to only now discover this seemingly obvious truth. To those of you who said, 'duh!', I understand. For me, it's the first time I really truly BELIEVE it. I can't yet see who I am on the other side (though I've had glimpses from other people). But I BELIEVE there is a ME inside there.

It only took me going off the rails to get back on track.

Stay tuned. It's gonna be an exciting ride!


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