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The Waters Deep

Life's about swimming to the top and dancing on the waves!

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Family

You can’t pray it away

Old deserted House

So she’s not dead.  I thought she was when I first walked in.   Slumped over in the frame of the chair, her body motionless and grey.  Empty, like a dilapidated building, once filled with Life.  Where beauty still lingered but only because of Memories that you imagine might have happened there once.

 It strangely hurt my heart more than I had prepared myself for it to hurt, even after all the years of practicing for the inevitable.

Almost 20 years of Prescription Pills and Alcohol.  Each overdose somehow coming as a surprise.  It’s been ‘Food Poisoning’, ‘A stroke’, ‘The Flu’,  a multitude of ailments that we all know aren’t real but no one has the energy to call out.  Again.

I’ve felt like I was standing in some kind of Fog or Mist Horror Story, where no one was willing to admit there was a Monster lurking.  Only me.  Every time I screamed ‘Monster’ another member of the family would disown me.  How dare I be so disrespectful.  Those are ‘good’ people.  ‘Great Friends’.  God Bless them and we’ll pray for them.

They lived in a beautiful perfect home that could have been put together by Martha Stewart herself.  Not anymore.  The money is gone.  Not even enough to finish the small cabin in the woods they are trying to build.  Sleeping on a mattress without sheets and sitting on camp chairs by the woodstove, which is their only source of heat.  Walls and ceiling half finished.  A pantry full of canned Pork & Beans and soup.  A refrigerator full of nothing but beer and wine, no real food.  A washing machine full of folded clothes and shoes, because at some point there was major confusion on how to do a load of laundry.

We talked about it in secret, when no one else was listening because no one else wanted to hear it.  No one wanted to clean up that mess.  In all fairness maybe no one knew how.

You don’t pray away an Opioid & Alcohol addiction.  You don’t sober them up with coffee and a couple AA meetings, or apparently 22 years of them either.  That Monster just lingers in the Mist waiting for the door to be opened.  Waiting for its friend Death to join him at the Party.

This time though, it brought me and my sisters into a room, together, for the first time in 20 years and we all were in agreement on how to proceed.  We left the elephant back at the shack.  We locked arms around the Tree of Life and we talked about being Sisters and we imagined what that might mean now.

We had an amazing shift, where Love was shared.  THAT was a beautiful and unexpected gift.

Thoughts

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My granddaughter tells me that she wishes she could have a different brain because hers does things she doesn’t like.

Especially when she’s trying to fall asleep.  She tells it to be quiet and it just keeps thinking about things like  Monsters and the Little Dinosaur that fell into the raging river.  Then she gets all sad and can’t sleep because her brain won’t listen to her and it never stops thinking scary thoughts.

She is pounding her little fists on her forehead as she tells me this.   She is only 4 and she understands that her thoughts are not to be listened to and the desire is to learn how not to.

 

Unconditional Love~thats what its all about!

There is a moment in life where we choose what kind of human we are going to be.  Some of us do it consciously and some don’t.

Over the years I’ve started to choose who I want to be based on consequences from past choices and the Legacy I want to leave behind.  As I grow older its not been that difficult since the consequences come rapidly and I’m able to make the connection fairly quickly.  Choices.  Consequences.  Bamm.  See where you went wrong, make a note for future.

In my twenty’s I was an enthusiastic and very self righteous judgmental Lutheran.   I’m not saying all Lutherans are that way.  But I was.

I also belonged to a women’s supposedly non-denomination bible study called  Bible Study Fellowship, that preached love to all Christian religions but quietly had their own set of Strict Doctrine.  As a Leader we had to exemplify perfection.  They told us how to pray.  They told us how to dress.  No divorces.  No drinking.  No inappropriate clothing.  Near Perfection.  It was exhausting, but I went all out and did what I could to help family and friends be perfect as well.  I was awesome like that.  Oh, the ignorance and ego of my young self.

The consequences of that self-righteous judgement  was brought home to me when we were cleaning out my Grandmothers home when she died.   On the table, by her bed, was a worn out and much read letter from me.  I was at first honored that she would have a letter from me that she obviously kept so close to her.

And then I read it.  And then I wept with guilt.  I remembered writing it and feeling so full of indignation that she was living a lifestyle of such debauchery.  Multiple boyfriends, dancing and partying, smoking and drinking.  I felt it was my right as her granddaughter to set her on the path to God and Perfection.

My harsh words of condemnation that she read over and over and over again were the last thing she got from me and I can only imagine how she felt each time she read them.

That Moment.  Choices and Words, that I could never take back ,changed my life forever.

She comes to visit me in my dreams.  I tell her I love her.  Just that.

Love.  Unconditional Non-judgmental Love.  Because we are all connected.  One and the same.

The Fear of Loss

No matter what happens around me, or to me, as long as I am alive enough to see the sun and the moon rising I can still grow and love and life is amazing regardless of Loss.


This week I stood, once again, over a hospital bed watching a family member recover from an over indulgence of Doctor Prescribed Medication and Budweiser.  Her face a puffy caricature of the  beautiful high cheek boned person I knew.   Once perfect lips dry and cracked and almost undetectable except for the tongue that keeps darting out as she tries to form what I can only guess are words, a hopelessly failed attempt to convince the doctor she has Food Poisoning.  Her eyes yellowed and blood shot, an obvious cry of help from a Liver that seems almost ready to take a permanent vacation from a body that has become way to much work to maintain.  Nicotine stained fingers tinged with a hint of blue, her lungs are not awake enough to take in air but not dead enough to completely stop.

I just want to go home.

I stand there looking at her husband, who is studying the lines on the floor as if they are going to give him the secret answer to the Universe and think, “You watch her sober up or die.  Not me.  You are the one lying to the doctors.  You know the Truth.  Why will you not share it?”  He catches me staring and I see Fear.  It has rendered him speechless.  I want to slap him.

So I walk to the nurses station and tell them her real story.  The truth that she has been struggling with prescription drug addiction for 15+ years.

Plenty of Fluids later and she has recovered miraculously from ‘Food Poisoning’.  They are going to walk her and then she will be released.  It’s no longer an emergency.  This time I don’t beg the doctor to send her to rehab.  I’m not angry.  I’m not really anything except tired.

The next day we have our ‘day after’ talk where I tell her she’s going to die and ask if that’s the Legacy she wishes to leave behind.  I remind her that her mother died from a cocktail of alcohol and pills.  She cries.  She tells me she’s sorry and it won’t happen again.

It’s the same as always. The only difference this time is that I have let go of the Fear of losing her.  I have let go of the responsibility to try to make her sober.  I have let go.

I hug her like it might be the last time I ever see her, because it might.  I look into her hungover eyes and will her to understand that she is loved.

I walk away without any Fear of Loss and I walk back to my life where the birds are chirping, bees are buzzing, my dog is farting, my kids are calling and my husband is hammering on something in the kitchen.

No loss, except my own life, will kill me.  There is Freedom in that Truth.

The Man in the Pink Hat

 

The man in the Pink Hat

My New Years resolution isn’t to manifest a career or a box of money on my front porch.  It’s not to lose weight, regardless of the fact that I still need to. I’m not going to join a bookclub or the gym or start eating Vegan.

I’m going to do something I’ve never done before.

I’m going to allow the People that love me,  to Love me.

I’m going to Nurture the friendships that make me feel good about being alive and being ME.

I will build myself a circle of Friends that allows me to express myself without shutting me down or off, encouraging relationships that are light and easy, filled with laughter and good talks.  I believe they  exist, we just have to allow them to.

My year of love and listening and long walks with the man in the Pink Hat.

 

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