Still foggy in here...

It's been a week since Day One at BlogHer and I am finally back into reality mode. Not an easy thing, let me tell you.

I'm feeling a lot of feelings right now. And since all of my therapy money went to my trip to San Francisco for BlogHer, I'm just laying it all here. You lucky reader, you...

I really wish I would have stayed at the St. Francis. Not because it's such a beautiful hotel or because I wanted to be able to just walk downstairs to the sessions. I wish I wouldn't have spent nearly as much time with my sister as I had... and it was pretty limited time. It was awkward. I realize now that I just can't be around her. It hurts too much. I'm upset that she's the only other kid that lived through life with me and doesn't have any desire to talk about it without being hurtful and sarcastic. I'm also upset with her for her snarky jabs and then getting all exasperated like I'm the one that did something wrong when I finally had to jab her back. Sorry, but stupid questions and being talked down to kinda do that to me! I had to summon all of my decency in order to just give her one of those two-pat-man-hugs at the airport. I couldn't walk away fast enough. Well, I was late for my flight, so I had to walk fast... but you get what I mean, don't you?

While I was up there, my kids were all here. All of them. Even the one that doesn't talk to me. I invited her, but I have a feeling, that was all being planned before my gracious invitation. I'm still trying to get all the stories straight about how my hand-blown glass humingbird feeder met its demise or why my furniture looks like it's sitting on a slant. I also reached for a mug only to find it missing. I already said what I needed to say. I think my words were heard. I'm not sure how they were processed on the other end, but that's not my deal. What happened was that I let them all know that I was disappointed. The reactions were that they didn't think I should be upset. Apparently, the mere fact that they were helping me out means that anything that was broken or missing or misspoken would be forgiven.

Ummm... no.

If I'm watching your cat and it dies because it jumped out a three story window because I let him play there and then I said Ooops, sorry, but don't be mad, cause I was watching your cat for you... is that okay? No. Or how is it that you can wash all of YOUR mugs without breaking them, but come over to my house and all of the sudden you have some crazy, mysterious hand problem that prevents you from holding MY mug without letting it drop? Huh, Mom? Or if you are going to partake in my home and all the amenities, have the decency to respond to an email that asks if you had a nice time and that I hope you were comfortable here... even though you won't visit when I AM here.

I'm also still heaving out the last of the fog trapped in my lungs. I get this weird temporary asthma whenever I breathe in moist air, which is usually daily living so close to the coast. That was part of the reason I moved further inland when the pilot and I sold our house and separated. I need dry, people! DRY! I'm thinking I'm going to take a trip out to the Grand Canyon. It's so beautiful there... so big... so amazing... we went there for lunch last year. Yep. Just for lunch. The life of a pilot's wife is kinda weird like that.

Am I still a pilot's wife? hmmm...

We are "celebrating" our Eight Year Anniversary next week. He'll be in Texas on the actual day. That's another thing I've become accustomed to. Before you feel sorry for me, I have to say that I understand that it's only a date. Some random numbers on a calendar. I'd much rather have our lives be sane and joyful than to celebrate artificially on a specific date. Does that make sense? So, I'm picking him up from the airport two days later. We're going to dinner from there. Downtown San Diego is always a lot of fun, so it should be nice. I'm really looking forward to some time alone with him. But from there, what? We've been talking about moving back in together, but I think we're both a little scared. I know I am. This Texas thing is nice. He's been away for ten days. I've had some fun in The City. But now, we go back to real life.

And it's all still just a little foggy to me...

...

Anger

I left this comment over at Daily Goddess in response to a post about Anger and it's value and power in our lives:

I began going to a recovery group four years ago to "deal with" my anger. I was embarrassed at my moments of rage. At the shattering of glass against walls. At the constant yelling yelling yelling. What I have discovered through years of peeling back the onion is that I was right to be angry. I just didn't know WHY I was angry. I was hurt and in pain and still expected to walk around as though nothing was wrong. My anger would bubble over at times when I could no longer pretend that everything was fine. That I had never survived any hurts. Now, after putting blame in it's proper place, and now in taking responsibility for my part of the situations I've gone through, only now am I no longer so angry. But without that initial anger, that intense feeling, I don't think I would have taken that road towards self-discovery and to true healing. I think anger is necessary. Just as a fire is needed for seeds to burst forth and a tree to bloom.

I had a LOT of very real reasons to be angry. The problem was I couldn't name the reasons. I stuffed those feelings and did everything I could to control my environment. When I couldn't keep all the plates spinning, I'd lash out at those closest to me for not helping me to keep things in some sort of dysfunctionally perfect order. uuuggghhh... I hate that I was like that!

I know that many people view anger as being out of control, and so do everything in their power to avoid any outbursts that might embarrass them. That's trying to control a very real human reaction because of the concern of what other's might think. I don't mean that we should be allowed to go out and beat someone senseless because they have upset us. I mean, if you are upset or angry with someone, feel the feeling! But stuffing our true feelings is pretty typical for most people. And that's very dangerous to our psyche. We don't want to think we're mean. We don't want to make others uncomfortable. We want people to like us... blah blah blah blah blah...

It was only through hours of prayer and meditation and a lot of group time that I came to understand that I had every right to be angry for things that I had gone through as a child and young adult. I have since "calmed down" now that I have been able to put faces to the feelings of rage. I still have moments where I wish I had a punching bag in the garage, but not like before... not on an hourly or minute-by-minute basis. Now when I'm just so pissed that someone crossed a line with me, rather than trying to control my environment or taking it out on those closest to me, I sit in that anger. And then I write, or run, or take deep breaths... but mostly I sit in it and pray. And sometimes, I even find the strength to go back to the one that crossed my boundary and tell them "That was not cool. You can't do that to me ever again. Have a nice life." If they walk away from me, all the better. Remember, they can warm themselves by my fire, but damned if I'm giving my wood away to anyone who would hurt me ever again!

I've turned a horrible character defect into a positive element in my life. Something shameful into something powerful... yet still so humbling.

So what do you think about anger? Do you allow yourself those moments of just being rightfully pissed off? Or do you control your feelings too well to be enraged when someone has wronged you? Was there a time when anger worked for you, not against you?

Or do you just think I'm some crazy lunatic?

...

Worth

What is time worth?

What price would you put on a hug?

How much would you spend on a kind word?

Is there a limit to the amount of money you would spend to feel special in the presence of another person if money were the only collateral?

I know that I am worth so much more than a seat at a bar and empty conversations with strangers. I know that I am of greater value than a a life of restless travel. Maybe not in the moment, but on the greater scale, I know that I am worth a lot more than endless hours in front of football games on any given Sunday.

I know that. I do.

That's why sometimes I get this horrible awful feeling of sadness with my ex's choice. Granted, the life of a bachelor has a lot to offer. I suppose I would choose it too... if only I had never met my children. Or if I had never known the love of a partner who was willing to put up with emotional harm just to love me. Or if that was even within the realm of how I could ever even think. I can't though. So I still don't understand his thought process. I can make myself crazy trying to figure it out.

I was asked out. On a date. By a guy.

Technically, I am still married. Statistically, this is the worst possible time to meet a new person. Obviously, my marriage is over. Thankfully, my new life has begun. I don't know that I can accept this innocent invitation, though. I feel sick just thinking about it. Half excited but knowing full well that this will be it. This will be the nail in the coffin. Which is a coffin filled with a LOT of nails. So, a date. What would it be like? I'm just curious enough to go.

But what if he is a great guy? God, I can't even let myself go there. I'd be like, yeah, you are really cool and it would be great to be your girlfriend, but would you mind terribly if we stop at the courthouse on the way to dinner because I have all these documents that need to be filed... uuuggghhh... Then again, what if I picked another one of the same? I guess I could pretend I was sick or bolt out the bathroom window when he's not looking or better yet, I could just pretend to be really in love with him and ask him what he thinks about selling everything and going off to the country to raise ostriches. My luck, he'd be all Yeah... let's go, Green Acres!

Or... maybe it could just be a nice evening with good conversation and a sweet smile good night. Maybe.

So I still had to make sure that I wasn't being wrong on my path of divorce. I had to check myself one more time when the ex came to switch cars. Something about him is still attractive to me in an astronaut sort of way. But he's obviously enjoying being on his own. That's why you don't marry life long bachelors. You will never be pretty enough, smart enough, or funny enough to overcome any of that freedom. How funny... I'm actually enjoying my freedom. But for different reasons. Why then would I give it up? On a whim, really? Or just a test? I think it's a woman thing, wanting the best for everyone. That's the trap of codependence. The opposite being spiritual and emotional freedom. I think our freedom costs more because of that... the "everyone else" part.

I wonder what the price of freedom will be for me.

...

Trina

It's hard to define yourself by an issue, and it's also quite unhealthy. But to admit that you struggle with something is the first step towards sanity. So many times I heard that kind of psycho-babble and rolled my eyes. I don't worry anymore about people rolling their eyes at me so much as I wonder if they, or you, are identifying.

The other day I read a story about a woman named Trina:

Trina just met the "man of her dreams" a few weeks ago. She invited him to stay with her when his girlfriend threw him out. She's so happy giving him what he needs domestically, financially, and sexually, especially when it's something the girlfriend wouldn't do. She loves knowing that she understands him better than anyone else. That is why she is going to surprise him by taking him out to dinner for his birthday and wear the kind of very revealing dress he really likes. Making him happy is what counts. She leaves work early to swing by his office and give him a ride so he won't have to take the bus. She's thinking about placing an ad to give away her precious Siamese because he has hinted that he doesn't like cats.

By the end of the passage, I was supposed to feel like this Trina woman was nuts, I think. But I just looked up and thought, well now, Trina sounds like a really nice person. I don't see anything wrong with what I just read.

Oh boy...

I laughed out loud about it later because I know better now. I don't see that behavior as loving anymore, but as captive. I don't see Trina's boyfriend as a nice guy down on his luck who just needs a little tenderness. I see him as a pariah. That's right... a soul sucking, blood thirsty, loser... okay... maybe it's not all his fault.

Of course it's not!

Trina is active in her victimhood. She allows her boyfriend to walk all over her. She does this out of a misguided idea of love and need for acceptance. So have you ever been Trina before?

Chances are, if you are a female, you might have.

...

When the student is ready...

I read an interesting Hero Quest story today about a woman who faces great challenges and overcomes fears in order to soothe an angry husband recently home from battle, wounded and desiring nothing but isolation. The woman asks for guidance from a wise person in her village to help her cajole her husband back to the sanctuary of their marriage. She is sent off into the unknown for a hair. Stay with me... she climbs a mountain, gradually gains the trust of a bear by feeding him, asks for a hair from his neck, is granted the request, and half scared but mostly optimistic, runs back to the village. All I want at this point in the story is to read about the magic elixir that will make my angry husband change and love our family the way we deserve.

Will she never learn, you ask?

When the woman returns to the village, the wise person takes the hair, inspects it to make sure that yes, in fact, this woman did do as required. That she did conquer fear and insecurity for the love of the wounded husband. The hair is then thrown into a fire, seemingly oblivious to the harrowing quest taken up by the selfless (and at this point, I'm thinking, stupid) wife. She screams "WHY?" The wise person says to now in turn do the same for the husband.

Huh?

What the hell? I'm supposed to risk life and limb to get my husband to come inside? Just because he's an angry jacka$$? What the heck kind of codependent crap was this storyteller trying to peddle? Is it just ME? I began to wonder if this was how "wise people" kept women in subservient roles for so long. But then as I read the explanation, I realized that I was once again reading with the wrong pair of glasses. The husband wasn't a husband.

He IS my psyche.

The husband is representative of the wounded part of us, wanting to isolate and wallow in our pain. The wife is the kind nature inside each of us who wants so desperately to cover the scars with the salve of love. It is in the quest, the scary moments, the times we rise above our fears and accept all of life's challenges, that we become stronger and more resilient. And in that strength, we are able to bring our wounded self back into the shelter. But who is the wise person that sends us on this journey to face a fear, knowing that we will be okay? That we will become whole?

God.

My life verse is found in the Old Testament, in Isaiah. It's an amazing book of looking back on the wounds and looking forward on the healing. It's the eternal promise of God to bring us back into the sanctuary of His Love. The things in life that we wanted might have robbed us of our innocence and brought home to our loving nature a wounded warrior. With the help of God and his written promise, His Logos, we are able to be restored to the wonderful beings we were meant to be. With His grace and guidance, we WILL bloom again:

Isaiah 51:3

"The LORD will surely comfort Zion
and will look with compassion on all her ruins;
He will make her deserts like Eden,
her wastelands like the garden of the LORD.
Joy and gladness will be found in her,
thanksgiving and the sound of singing."

AMEN!

...

WANTED: Someone Just Like Me

It would be just fantastic to talk about my life without having to explain myself or deal with those eye twitches and not so funny smirks from others. It would be so nice to have someone else understand my idiosyncrasies. SO here goes...

SSWBF (semi-single, whitish brown female) seeks friend who is just like her. Must be divorced AND separated. Former(ish) husbands should be adrenaline junkies with a need for speed (ie race car drivers and jet pilots). Said husbands should also care more about their hobbies than their women. Friend must be familiar with the codependent behavior that made her think that trying hard enough would have made things better. Must have at least four children ranging in ages from Preschool to College with at least one of the children completely self-excommunicated. Prefer a friend raised on own as her parents were too busy fully realizing themselves. Must love the Lord but cannot use any annoying Christianese when conversing. Should be interested in hiking and biking as well as pedicures and spa getaways. Doesn't mind making an ass out of herself when attempting to surf. Potential friends please apply. No credit check but a full psyche eval would be good. (Membership in recovery program would suffice for psyche eval)

I need to get out more.

...

My Part

So part of this whole Sense-of-Self thing (for me, anyway) has been taking ownership of my part. After the Open Letter episode (which has now been taken off the air, thank you very much) I felt better. I really really did.

And then I didn't.

What if we get back together? Wow... my friends will think I'm a HUGE Jackass after airing all that dirty laundry! Well, that was the purpose of going public right? To be held accountable. Still... I wondered... what if? So then, as part of my old, scary, codependent cycle, I fell back into making excuses for him and blaming myself.

So much for My New Self.

Darn... I felt so weak and powerless, and then just sick about that cycle repeat. Shoot! I was doing so well. Fortunately, it wasn't a complete setback. I started to see my part in this whole thing. So here goes:

~I can be pretty stubborn when it comes to things I think I deserve... like that Kirby. Damn thing can airspray paint! Did you know that?

~I whine when he flies all the time. Did I mention I KNEW he was a pilot when I married him?

~I pout when we don't do active stuff together. This one is a toss up. When we were first married, we used to go power walking all the time. Then I had the baby and she would always get the sniffles when we came back from the beach, so since there were no sidewalks anywhere else in town *ahem* I stopped walking and blamed my weight gain on his lack of support. Which is sort of true... but not entirely.

Stupid stuff like that used to get us both so blown up. Kind of like the toothpaste-cap argument. Obviously, things got worse and worse over the years. Without any guidance on the communication front, we started letting those annoying little behaviors become huge elephants in every room until we were doing pretty mean things to each other. We didn't cope well. We didn't talk. We just took to our separate coping mechanisms and limped along.

We were ugly with denial.

The worst thing that I have to regret about it all (and this is the biggest part of My Part) was that I expected him to be someone he was not. I wanted an apple... I really really wanted an apple. So why did I complain when I walked over to the orange tree on my own volition and picked an orange? Did I think an orange would magically transform into an apple if I held it and wished long and hard enough? If I did everything in my power to sweeten, cajole, persuade this orange to become that apple? I think, too, he might have expected ME to be someone I was not... or was not capable of being. We both reached for something that was more a mirage than reality. The mirage kept us hopeful, but the reality kept popping in to shake us back awake.

For now we are separated behaving kindly towards each other and handling our adult obligations like business partners. We are married by law only, it seems. So now what? I have no idea. I do know that the clock isn't going to stop ticking, the earth isn't going to stop spinning, and the pages of the calendar will not cease flying off month after month. There is still the Living thing that needs to happen. I still have children to raise and guide. I still have photos to shoot and copy to write. I have invitations to accept, kindnesses to acknowledge, books to read, and trails to climb. I don't know what will happen with my marriage. I do know that I have a lot to accomplish tomorrow. And that's about all I can take care of for now. I hate to say this but...

One day at a time.

...

The List

Everyone has one... stashed away in an old box from college, or posted on an anonymous site. I'm talking about a list of things to do before we (dare I say?)... die.

I saw a great list on Confessions of a Perfectionist (go check her out!). Then, last night, I watched a movie trailer for The Bucket List with Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman. And currently, I'm devouring Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. All around are messages to follow your heart and do the things you've always wanted to do. Got it. So what's the problem? It's not that I can't make a list. I make them ALL the time! It's just that whole checking-it-off thing. Again: What's the problem??? Mostly, I don't want to make those close to me uncomfortable.

What a CoDependent!

The list is filled with stuff that people will probably find odd or too random. It involves travelling alone, writing about family secrets, and mid-life tattoos. Since my new qualifier is "What does CINTHYA want," I thought I'd commit myself to my List. For a career codependent, that's a big deal. The list isn't very long, but it is deep.

The first is a bit boring on the outside. Travelling, hiking, biking the ancient trail used by Indians, Spaniards and traders that winds through the Southwest between Albequerque and LA, The Old Spanish Trail. It’s the route taken by my great-grands many years ago. I discovered it on my last trip to Santa Fe. Little is written about it, though there is an Old Spanish Trail Society. Unfortunately, it has no members or interest of membership anywhere near me. The most recent books published on it came out in 1961. I’ll have some research to do, but I’d prefer to do it on site. An artist friend of mine recently moved to one of the trading posts. Durango, Colorado. I'll hopefully be making a stop there while I'm in Albequerque this holiday season. It's out of the way, and there will be lots of reasons for skipping the trip, but I really want to. I also plan to hike and bike (and photograph) another stop on the trail, Moab, Utah this spring.

Traditions have long ceased in my family. It's sad to have little to hold on to in that arena. Sometimes, I feel like a sail without a boat. I guess I'm hoping to find some of my history for myself and to pass on to my kids so that their hearts don't ache with the same, cold void. I'm freaked and excited to see what this exploration brings about, both in spirit and mind. I'm also wondering if I have the guts to do it... to follow my heart for something I want that has no point other than for my own happiness.

Like I said, for a Co-De... that is a really big deal.