Carpe diem... out of sorts...

Though out of sorts, I managed to do laundry and some reading. I've been sorting through memories as well. It hasn't been a particularly pleasant experience, but necessary. There is a sense that something is lurking, barely out of reach, waiting for the right key or clue to come to the fore and be recognized. This vague feeling is not a comforting one because there is a sense of recognition that what's coming isn't something pleasant. And it isn't comforting knowing that God is doing the pushing, though it seems He is being as gentle as possible. This is one of those times when I feel the need to grit my teeth and exercise faith in God's plan for me, no matter how scary or impossible it seems.

Thank Goodness It's Sunday #48

~Rain that makes things green and grow.

~Books that lift and inspire.

~Family members that strengthen and encourage.

~Friends that support and enrich.

~Friends that bring clarity and understanding.

Conundrum and other stuff...

Reading someone else's blog, today, it occurred to me that as I struggle to stop lying, there are problems I haven't considered fully. There are people in my life with whom the truth is not an acceptable answer, so I... lie. Well, shoot. Then again, in their world, lying is the central form of communication, and I'm simply communicating in a language they understand and accept. I do endeavor to instill as much truth as possible. It's fascinating to watch them close themselves off if they think I'm lying, when I'm telling the truth, because what I'm saying isn't what they want to hear. Sir Walter Scott certainly had it right: "Oh what a tangled web we weave, When first we practise to deceive!" It doesn't improve with practice! It only becomes messier. I'm not giving up. I'm going to continue to try to stop lying. And please no Yoda: "No! Try not. Do. Or do not. There is no try." Master Yoda, I respectfully disagree. Then again, quotes meant for one instant are often applied to other instances for which they were not intended. Confucius said "If you shoot for the stars and hit the moon, it's OK. But you've got to shoot for something. A lot of people don't even shoot." And the only Woody Allen quote I like: “If you want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans.”

NASCAR: Carl Edwards won the Nationwide race! YAY! He came in third in Texas, today, and he is now #1 in the Sprint Cup standings!! WHOOHOO!!!

My sister and I had planned on walking, this morning. We woke to buckets of rain. She invited me to breakfast. I had Lucky Charms. They were yummy!! Not a treat I buy for myself. Thanks, sis!

My nephew and his friend participated in an art fair, despite the rain. They're carvers, wood and bone, and very good.

I'm still stuffy. I think it's a sinus infection, so I'm drinking lots of water. It is improving. I'm curling up with Lucy Monroe books. She has a new addition to one of her series coming out, next month, and I'm re-acquainting myself with the characters.

There's change, and then there's change...

There's change as in doing something new, which can be done at any time, though some opportunities pass, never to be offered again. I'd like to visit New Zealand. That would be a change. If it happens, great. If not, that's okay.

And then there is change as in changing a flaw that harms self and others, which can never wait. Stop lying was a change that needed to happen long ago. I tried. And tried. And tried. The difficult part was that I didn't acknowledge how deep the habit was ingrained. I didn't stop trying to change. I kept searching for understanding. I also kept trying to be honest.

I quit dating over fifteen years ago because I realized I didn't know how to maintain healthy boundaries, and I finally stopped lying to myself that I could. I truly am learning now. It hasn't been easy, not by any stretch of the imagination. I stopped lying to myself and accepted that people who said they loved me didn't. I had to learn to be honest with myself that there are those who don't believe I have the right to protect myself. I've stopped lying to myself that people didn't mean to hurt me or humiliate me. I told them, repeatedly. They are lying to themselves if they say they didn't know. I've stopped lying to myself that it is my responsibility to determine anyone else's willingness to accept responsibility for themselves and their actions. I've stopped lying to myself that it is my responsibility to make anyone else happy. I have stopped lying to myself that it is my responsibility to fulfill everyone else's expectations of me no matter how unreasonable and no matter the cost to me. I have stopped lying to myself that it is my responsibility to be the scapegoat, the secret keeper, the puppet, the toy. And it's scary. Because it means that I have to stop lying about who and what I've been all my life. So who am I?

Follow up...

Often when I write, I'm able to leave the topic and move on to something else. Yesterday's topic is lingering. I grew up among predators. One was arrested coming out of church. He was jailed, all the while declaring himself innocent because he hadn't had intercourse with his victims. Yes, you read that right. He painted himself innocent because he swears that he hadn't actually had intercourse with any of his victims. I don't want to imagine how well that excuse will go over before the Throne of God. Remember that it would be better to have a millstone about the neck and thrown into the depths of the sea. That's better. It's going to be ugly. A predator lies to everyone, including him or herself. Maybe especially to him or herself.

I've recently finished five years of therapy. I'd been through two one-year rounds previously. The two earlier rounds saw me through some rough patches, but I don't feel like I actually changed. I was still struggling with almost exactly the same problems, with slightly different packaging. This time is different. It wasn't easy. It was incredibly hard. There were plenty of times when I did not want to face another day. Anyone who thinks therapy is wonderful hasn't had decades-old scabs stripped away, leaving you raw and vulnerable and feeling like the wound happened yesterday, again.

I think one of the hardest things I had to acknowledge was finally realizing how much I lied. I was brutally trained in the art of lying. I lied to protect myself. I lied to protect others. I lied to present an image of peace and calm and ease. I lied when I didn't have to lie. I lied without even realizing. I lied out of habit. Paradoxically, I did not tolerate lies from others. A part of me felt like I over-reacted. Now, I know why. I was calling others on the carpet for something I did myself. I really hate it when I point a finger at someone else and there are several pointing back at me.

Starting therapy this last time, I knew all the lies had to end. It wasn't easy. Sometimes it was a struggle one moment to the next. There were those who didn't want me to change. People who supposedly loved me. It was okay if I changed, as long as I remained the same with them. They didn't understand that all the lies had to stop. All the lies. Every single one. It hasn't been an easy lesson to learn. I messed up. A lot.

When I read the article, yesterday, so much rage surged back, though with a difference. I didn't try to smooth it over or pretend like it wasn't a big deal. I've stopped lying to myself. In my conversations with others, I check myself to be sure I'm sharing the truth. There are still those in my life that require me to hide who I am from them. They don't want the honest me. They want the me that makes them comfortable, no matter the cost to me. They will lie and say they want to know, but when I've tried to believe them, they've proven again and again and again that they lied. I've stopped lying to myself. I'm not perfect. I will probably have to stay aware all my life. I'm okay with that. There is an unmistakable peace that is mine, every day, because I've stopped lying to myself. It hasn't made my life easier, but it has made it more livable.

The truth will set you free. God never promised life would be easy. He did promise it would be worth it.

Still not well...

...and frustrated by that. Head is stuffy, and thinking is foggy. I managed to accomplish what I planned for the day.

Fellowship of the Mind posted the news that the author of the pedophile guide book only received two years probation. Not enough. Not nearly enough. This was my very, very edited response: A predator will always lie. No matter what. A skilled predator knows how to lie so convincingly that others believe them. They’ve learned how to weave in a truth, but it’s still a lie. The child has to live with the consequences for the rest of their life, so should the predator. And having been abused as a child is no excuse, ever. Accept personal responsibility. Oh, wait, personal responsibility isn’t PC.

I am so angry... I've had thrown back at me: You want mercy for you and justice for them. Actually, if I ever did anything so despicable, justice couldn't come quick enough or severe enough. No excuses.

There are those who tell me that the predators live with the consequences as well. They chose them when they made their decision to disrespect another human being; the child did not. No excuses.

All that being said, since I have no control, I am more than willing to turn it over to God, because God has already said that it would be better for those who offend a child to have a millstone around their neck and thrown into the depths of the sea.

Assessing...

I've been thinking about my blog, here, and noticing that it seems quite random and also rather shallow, over all. I try not to be controversial. I try not to step on any toes, at least not often. I know I constantly sensor my thoughts. A part of me fears being found, having what I write reported to those with whom I'm not safe. Each word and phrase is carefully chosen to protect me, to protect my hopes and dreams, what few there are. My fretting isn't unfounded. I've shared information that has come back to haunt me, to be used as a whip or shackles. I'm not ashamed; it is my self-worth that is held hostage. That which matters to me is thrown back at me as a joke, dismissed, or derided. And I'm questioned why I share so little. I admire those who say, "Let them come," and share their story anyway. I'm not there yet, not entirely. I am exploring, though. I'm learning, but I've no illusions about still being at the mercy of those who think me incapable, irresponsible, a burden. So, today, I'm thinking about where I want to go from here. I'm not sure, but I'm thinking about it now, rather than pushing it aside. I want to lift, inspire, encourage. I know too well how easy it is to slip the other way. I'm learning how important it is to be honest, to stop lying to myself, and yet there are those who do not want me to be honest. It makes them uncomfortable, and then they make my life difficult. What a mess.

Carpe diem... doing better...

I still have a stuffy head. I still have a headache, though now I'm not sure if it's a cold or allergies, because now allergy medicine is helping. I was able to accomplish everything on my list. There wasn't much, but that was the idea with as lousy as I feel. I'm still scatterbrained. You know it's a problem when almost every word has a typo, a least for me. My old work taught me to be a really good typist.

I did a bit of re-reading the ends of favorites, like TTQ's Maple Street and Meyer's Host. I told God I needed a breadcrumb, and He sent it. Actually, He sent several. A quick reminder: Breadcrumbs are those things that lead you in a particular direction, even when you don't know where you going. They're hints, and not always recognizable right away. I always used to feel bad about asking because it felt like asking for a sign, but I'm not asking for a sign to tell me which way to go. I know which way I'm going. I'm asking for encouragement on the road, a reminder that I'm not traveling on my own, that I'm not completely crazy. I think that's always been a problem I've had in the past. I didn't notice the little things very well. I was always looking for big, neon signs, because frankly, that's all I recognized with any certainty. Good to know I've done some changing for the better.

Thank Goodness It's Sunday #47

~Racing in Martinsville was exciting, today! Blessedly, neither Martin Truex or Kasey Kahn were hurt. A miracle when you see it. Poor Carl Edwards lost his power steering early on. Can you imagine driving at speeds from 60-120 mph, on a short track, with no power steering? His crew chief reminded him that this is why he lifts weights, but still... He stuck it out to the end.

~I still have my cold, but I know they do not last forever.

~I already have blackberries developing! Hopefully, it won't grow too hot too fast. At least one batch of blackberry jam would be nice.

~Supportive friends, new friends, and my friends the books.

~Psychology Today The Legacy of Distorted Love by Karyl McBride, Ph.D. on Child Sexual Abuse and Narcissism. I found this informative and clear.

Life is not fair...

Sometimes, I need to remind myself of that. I'm feeling very whiney, today. The cold is coming to an end, which means I don't feel wiped out, but I don't feel up to par, either. It's that unpleasant in between spot. I've really had enough of the headache I've had for all seven days. Or has it been eight, now? I want popcorn, but I don't have any in the house. I want to read, but I'm feeling very distracted. I want to feel better, NOW. I've been very patient all week, and now I'm done. I'm ready for it to be over. I was frustrated with trying to number a document. I tried to use the supposedly helpful Help feature offered by MS. It wasn't helpful. I could ask about numbers, which directed me to bullets and numbers. When I asked about numbering pages, it told me there was nothing related. Nasty pc program. I finally went to Yahoo and asked. Thank you eHow! Easy-measy. In no time at all, viola, my pages were numbered. I'm still cranky about that. No, I'm tired, and I'm sick, and I'm frustrated with still being sick and tired. I want to curl up in bed, but I'm not hopeful. I went to bed at a reasonable hour last night and laid there, unable to sleep. But I'm sooooo tired!! Okay, as my dear friend says, "Whine, whine, whine, stop."

My blackberry bushes are in bloom, lots and lots of blooms. Walking with my sister, this morning, at the park, we saw two sets of ducklings, eleven and ten respectively. So little! So fuzzy! So adorable! The roses are exploding into bloom. It's cooling down again, at least for the next few days. What a blessing. I enjoyed the garage cam at Martinsville. What fun! (NASCAR)

Tara Taylor Quinn's newest novel...

It Happened on Maple Street is Tara Taylor Quinn's own true-life love story. The first book I remember reading of hers was Merry Christmas Babies. She's written over fifty novels, and I own quite a few of them. She has been one of my shining lights in my search to become healthy. She's an inspiration to me. Her stories touch my heart, and heal me a little more with each reading. There are several that I re-read on a regular basis. I usually don't find her stories a comfortable read, because I have to stop and think every few pages. I have to explore how I feel about what she's written. She was one of the first who required me to start being honest with myself about my past. May she continue to write inspiring romance stories of strength and courage, for many years to come. I wish her all the best.