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January 5th, 2012 Resetting the compass – Day 5
This morning at the gym I was banging out a much needed workout to the Born This Way soundtrack. Lady G wrote this song mainly for our young people to send the message to them that they are just fine the way they were made and not to let who they are be defined by their peers.
As the various versions of the song rang loudly in my ears, I realized the song holds a lot of meaning for us grown up grown-ups, too. Though we are all grown up, as our lives change, we experience periods where we feel a little lost and at loose ends just as our young people do. My second year of retirement threw me into one of those tailspins. I was questioning who I now was, now that I wasn’t a teacher any longer. I began to let everything and everyone define who I should be. In the end, I found the only one who can define me is me. Right now my husband has been presented with a health issue that threw him into the same kind of tailspin. It’s a wake-up call. He is busy resetting his compass this month also. He is the only one who can define, using all the support from his family, friends, and doctors, just how he wants the rest of his life to play out.
I have wonderful family and friends who guide me and show me different ways to look at things and present all the different directions in which the compass can point. I have God to give me wisdom when the time comes to choose. But ultimately, when it comes to setting the compass, who I am and what I want in my life is my choice. God never forces our hand – or our heart. I am the only one who can define me, because as the song suggests, we are all unique and we should find joy in that.
I can’t write a certain book just because someone else did. I can’t paint a certain picture just because someone else did. I can’t dress and act a certain way just because someone else did. But I can take a few words from a novel, a few colors from a painting, a few articles of jewelry and clothing from those I admire and put them together to form a unique me. In turn, people may take a few of my words, a few of my colors, and piece or two of my style and create a unique self.
We are all connected and put on this earth to help each other along. What we give and take from each other works together to create the uniqueness in each of us, but we are the ultimate artists. Whether we are 15 or 55, no one else can craft who we are. It is up to us to reset our own compass.
And so, as another day goes by, the needle is moving toward appreciating me being born my way, and ….I have written.
January 4th, 2012 Resetting the compass: Day 4 (It’s becoming obvious to me that that is what January is going to be all about.)
This morning my husband had an early appointment with the heart doctor to discuss the next steps on his path of arterial fibrillation. We were going to a specialist to see if he needed a procedure or another course of treatment. I was brushing my teeth thinking how different our morning was. Usually we are bantering about the news, how he feels, who wants toast, etc. Today we were going about our business in silence, exchanging few words. We were both thinking about where we were going today and were perhaps a bit nervous. Then my mind wandered to the book I’m currently reading.
I’m reading [sic] A Memoir by Joshua Cody. I just started it three days ago and have been very frustrated with this read. The book was actually annoying me. He has cancer and is getting treatments and going to the doctor appointments, but that’s not the frustrating part. It’s the way it’s written. The doctor would say two words to him and then he goes off writing pages about random thoughts from his past. Then he’d come back and insert two more sentences about what the doctor is saying, then ramble off again for three or more pages. Now, while brushing my teeth, thinking about what we might hear today, I suddenly got it. The read is supposed to frustrate the reader. He actually does a wonderful job portraying what the mind does when sitting in front of your cancer doctor, trying to listen to the fate of the rest of your life. It makes a real point of why you don’t go to these appointments alone. Then another light went on, as I turned off the bathroom light. Maybe we were going to the heart doctor today to figure out our next steps, but we are not going to the cancer doctor. My husband’s fate is something he can control and move forward with. With cancer, that’s not always the case. Leaving the house, I suddenly felt very gratuitous for our destination.
And so, as another day goes by, today the compass points toward more gratitude in 2012 and being thankful for what you have – before it turns into something you had, and….I have written.
![[sic]](http://thewritestuff.typepad.com/.a/6a01348658b0ee970c0162ff04b061970d-580wi "[sic]")
January 3rd, 2012 Resetting the Compass – Day 3:
Today on my drive to NY a discussion about New Year’s Resolutions was on the radio. It was said that the best way to set a resolution that has the best chance of being kept is to state it positively. The girl calling this in said she made the same resolution every year for the last 10 years and never fails to keep it. Her resolution is: Eat chocolate everyday. Cute, but the concept is the sweetest part. Tell yourself what you will do, instead of what not to do.
I remembered that when I was teaching, I used this concept to set the classroom rules. Tell children to do positive things and get positive behavior. Every year I only had three rules to follow in my classroom and they covered everything. They were:
1. Move slowly
2. Talk quietly
And number three, even though it wasn’t stated positively, was the most important one of all.
3. Never hurt anyone on the inside or on the outside.
99% of the children, even at five, could handle these and my classroom was really a nice place to live for 6 hours a day. I think, for 2012, moving slowly, talking quietly, and not hurting people on the inside or on the outside, if practiced consistently, would make all of our world’s nice places to live.
Shortly after that discussion, a song came on the radio that also stated something along these lines. It said not to give people advice. People don’t like to be handed a list telling them “don’t do this and don’t do that”. Instead the song suggested building a city on a hill and putting a candle on the sill. Learn to be the light.
For 2012, along with moving slowly, talking quietly, and never hurting anyone on the inside or on the outside, I’m learning to be the light.
And so, as another day goes by, all I ever needed to know I learned (and taught) in kindergarten, and ….I have written.
January 2nd, 2012 Resetting the compass Day 2:
2012 is stretched out before us like a blanket of clean snow. We must be careful where and how we tread, for each mark we make will show.
Last January I slipped, fell, and thrashed around, throwing snow in all directions. This January, all that is evidence of me, is a row of tiny neat footprints.
As a result of 2011 I have become much more still, calmer, and more patient. Instead of going out and trying to “get” life, this year I will sit in utter complacency and let some life come to me. Instead of constantly trying to “fix” life, I will let life repair itself. This will be a year of consistent calmness, rather than a year of trying to attain it. That book I’m trying to write will have to write itself when it’s ready. That painting I’m trying to paint will have to paint itself when it’s ready. That relationship I’m trying to repair will have to repair itself when it’s ready. Yesterday, on my beach walk, I laid down my sword in the sand, acknowledged it, and walked away. I’m tired of fighting all the time. I’m tired of striving all the time. I’m tired of doing all the time.
2011 made me tired. And that is not a bad thing. It’s okay to be tired after doing very hard work – both physically and mentally. It’s okay to lay down the sword. It’s okay to take time to rest and reset the compass.
And so, as another day goes by, it’s time to rest and reset, my battle is done, and …I have written.
January 1st, 2012 Yesterday I laid 2011 to rest and said its time to reset my compass, so today as I headed out for my walk, I called up my compass app on my phone just to see where it would take me. I began to walk down the road and the compass told me I was headed north. Walking as far north as I could, left me at the shore, the place where heaven meets earth at the horizon line. I turned right and began ambling along the shoreline, always in hope of finding that new piece of beach glass. The compass said I was going east, where the sun rises each morning. I walked east as far as I could go and found myself at the inlet. I met some people and we were all marveling at the 66 degree temps for January first. I said to them, “What does this tell us about 2012?”. The lady answered that it’s going to be a much better year than 2011! I so agreed. I had no choice but to turn toward home. The compass said I was walking south. When I got home I set my glasses, water bottle, and phone down on the counter. I sat in my chair and put my feet up. My eyes caught the patio where this gorgeous sun would set in just a few hours, because it’s January and not July. The compass said I was facing west.
Reset your spiritual compass for 2012. First head north and give your God the first few minutes of the day. Then turn east and pick up your package of hope that each sunrise offers you. At the end of the day, go south and turn toward home. Set your bag of difficulties down on the counter and find comfort in the arms of your home and family. Finally, sit in your easy chair and turn your face west. Look at the setting sun and find rest. Then, get up and do it all over again tomorrow. For it is the consistency that makes the deep, significant changes in who we are over the course of a year.
My compass for 2012 has been reset by that one word – consistency. This year I aim to be more consistent with prayer, with food, with money, with exercise, with writing, with walking, with self-care, etc. – just a few minutes on each, everyday. Hopefully, just like in yoga, the physical will transfer to the emotional and I will come out the other side in 2013 a more consistent person.
I used to make lists like many people do, of my new year’s resolutions. Those lists become binding and cumbersome as the month of January progresses, so this year I decided more could be accomplished if I just limited my goal to one word – consistency. Do just a little of a lot of good things everyday. The days turn into weeks. The weeks turn into months, and before I know it, we’ll be discussing 2013. High hopes, I know, but as my husband will tell you, I’ve always been an over-achiever.
And so, as another New Year’s Day goes by, I’ll go north and pray, turn east and gather hope, head south and make my way home, face west and find peace and rest – then I’ll get up and do it all over again the next day, and….I have written.
January 1, 2012 – an exquisite beach day….
December 31st, 2011 It is the day when we stop and look at where we’ve been for the last twelve months and adjust our compass for where we’re going in the next twelve. You can’t move forward until you stop and look at where you’ve been. That was the biggest lesson I learned this year because it was the thing I neglected to do last year on this day.
On this day last year I had spent the previous six months since my mom passed away, just pushing forward and pushing all thoughts of where I had been with her out of my life. Then December 31 became the darkest day in my entire life. I was at a wonderful party with people I loved. Someone said the wrong thing at precisely the right time and it was like a hammer cracking a glass globe inside of me. I honestly didn’t know what was happening to me. I completely dissolved and felt like I was outside of myself – just looking at myself in a big heap on the floor. The next day, now looking back at how I was acting, I realize I was in shock. My insides were folded away. Closed off from even myself. I was talking and moving and making motions, but I felt far away from me. It’s the mind’s natural protection against trauma. I had no idea that I had a complete breakdown. I just thought I drank too much – all three glasses of wine I had. I never knew I was holding and repressing the sadness and pain of losing my mother crammed so tightly inside of what I can only describe as a glass ball deep in the pit of my stomach. I remember going away from the party and lying in a heap crying and shaking so hard and just wanting my mom back there beside me to talk to. I guess you can’t dismiss the loss of a woman that you talked to everyday for 58 years with wave of the hand and an “Oh this didn’t bother me.” Even today it still amazes me that that was what happened to me one year ago tonight. That began a journey that I will never, ever forget.
But the journey is done. There are 364 entries in this blog that tell the ups and downs of this story. In the process I hurt people very close and important to me. I regret they were the catalyst to my breakdown, but they were not the cause of it. I spent many months agonizing over what a bad person I was to do this to them. That created another dimension to the journey. In addition to finally being forced to face losing my mom, I now had to wrangle with my own self-worth. Hurting others is foreign to my nature and to see the damage I had done just clawed out the last pieces of heart that were left within me. This involved spending the first three months of 2011 in a severe depression, that again, I had no idea was happening until my husband suggested getting some help. That woke me up. Along about the end of last March I got up out of the chair I had spent those three months in and took the first step toward where I am today.
It was the longest walk of my life. Step by step. One foot in front of the other. Day by day. Thank goodness one relationship was repaired and that friend became my rock, along with my husband, on this journey. Slowly as the months went on, God added other people into the mix that helped me on my way, but it was my faith in God that ironically I’d entered into on the 31st day of July 1971 that pulled me through this.
This was still yet another dimension I had to grapple with. Over the years I had strayed from the intimacy I had shared with God. This was definitely His way of getting my attention and telling me serious spiritual work needs to be done. Thus began the tearing down of who I was and the building up of an entirely new person. And here I am. Ready for a new year. Ready to live my life in a new direction – this time decided by God and what He wants to accomplish with me in 2012. I no longer control or try to manipulate any part of my life. I no longer ask “Why me?”. I just nod in prayer, accept what I’m given, give gratitude that I made it through without losing myself, and move on.
It has taken every single solitary day of this year to get to this point where I can talk so honestly about what happened. It is very freeing to do it. Only by looking back am I free to move forward. After taking this hard look at where I’ve been, I will begin adjusting my compass for where I’m going.
And so, as another year slips by, the sun sets on 2011, and….I have written.
December 30th, 2011 First thing this morning grief and loss were laid across my table. Max Lucardo wrote about having to face your grief and loss. He described it as I lived it, perfectly:
“The giant stirs up loss of appetite, insomnia, forgetfulness, thoughts of suicide. Grief is not a mental illness, but sure feels like one sometimes. Your friends may not understand this. You may not understand this. But please try. Understand the gravity of your loss. You didn’t lose at Monopoly or misplace your keys. You can’t walk away from this. At some point, within minutes or months, you must face your grief.”
I spent twelve months learning that lesson the hard way. You have to face your grief and loss. You can’t walk away from it for six months like I did. I put myself back together in such a way that this will never happen again when faced with loss.
Within minutes of reading this, the funeral of yet another fallen firefighter in our area came on the TV. The second one in two weeks. Both great dads with wives and small children. My husband and I were in tears. Then the story about the house fire in Stamford Connecticut where the lady, going through a divorce, lost all three of her children and her parents on Christmas morning, was on again. She was out there in the dark walking aimlessly over the yard just repeating “My whole life was in that house.” Such grief and loss, ten times mine. My daughter kept saying “Mom, how’s she going to this?”. I thought to myself, I know exactly how she, and the families of the firefighters are going to do this. I know exactly what path they are going to walk down. I know exactly what their 2012 is going to be like. And my heart breaks for them. I will pray for them.
Many times this year I have posed the question “Why does God let bad things happen?” And now, at the end of my journey, so near the very last night of it, I get my answer. Today walking down the beach road, praying for these families, it suddenly occurred to me had I not gone on this painful journey this year, I could not know their pain. I could not have true compassion for their loss had I never experienced loss myself. I could not pray with such understanding and fervor.
I also now understand the line in the song “No Matter What” by Kerrie Roberts that says “a heartache can’t touch my life until it passes through Your hands”. God fashions all of our heartaches and tailors them to each of our lives. They are for a propose. The purpose is so that we may understand in order to have compassion. After we learn compassion, we move on to learning real joy. Joy comes from helping others. Joy comes from doing what God had in mind for each of our particular lives.
I have noticed that when things go wrong – like my husband’s heart problems – I am so ready to see the reason instead of ask God “Why us?”. Both my husband and I have spent the last two weeks marveling at the life changing things coming out of this situation for our family. My husband’s favorite line from the song “What Faith Can Do” by Kutless is “you can’t see the silver lining until you face the clouds”. How true.
And so, as another day, at the end of another year, goes by, I stand amazed at how much I have learned this year and how truly changed I really am, and….I have written.
PS- I guess God DOES understand….He had His own way of learning compassion…
December 29th, 2011 This week is my second week of five consecutive days of yoga. This week has been particularly enlightening. Not only have I felt better than I have in months, but I think I actually lost a few pounds over the holiday weekend.
Physically I felt better, but even more so mentally. One of my friends, who just came back to regular practice today, remarked that being away from yoga messed up her head. I totally agree. When I skip days due to driving to NY or social functions, my thinking tends to take wrong turns. Having 9 classes in a row, save for Xmas eve and Xmas, gave me much mental and emotional peace and insight. Monday at the 4 pm class I was struggling. It was humid in the room, as it was 55 degrees here on the cape. The teacher barely gave us a window or a door. I began to panic, but all of a sudden the thought that “it’s not your battle anymore” just struck me as I was struggling not to take a knee. I immediately relaxed and began to approach the next pose with a calm sense of just sinking into it.
Everyday since, that same message kept banging at my brain, both in and out of the yoga studio. As of tonight, I’m not sure I understand it fully yet, but it brings me great peace when it sings through my mind. I feel like I’ve done my part. Learned what I needed to and conquered my fears. Now the ball is in a different court. I must relax. I must be still. And I must wait.
I’m still figuring out where this is going, but I like what I get from it. My battle this year is done. It does not belong to me anymore. My battle cry is not the traditional one of entering a battle, but one of the peace of leaving a battle.
And so, as another day goes by, it’s out of my hands – the final shedding of all I’ve been fighting for 12 months, and…. I have written.
December 28th, 2011 Much of my journey through 2011 in this blog has been an inner one. Oh there were days when I left the inner soul in peace and simply wrote about life around me, but mostly my writings dealt with listening to that inner voice we all possess, but gets locked away and never heard through the din of that life all around us. These months have been a quest to unearth that soft place in the heart. To not let it close and harden as a result of my pain. I feel I have done that.
This year I was hurt more than I’ve ever been hurt in all my years put together. The emotional pain was so bad, that at times it was physical. I felt betrayed by God and people that I trusted. One year ago I stood there and watched myself dissolve into nothingness. I spent months just standing there staring at myself in a smoking heap on the ground. I didn’t know where to start to put myself back together again. I was in shock. I couldn’t move, either mentally or physically. But then one day, like a lone shoot of green grass poking up through the black ashes, I felt that soft place deep within and I knew I possessed all I needed within me to move forward. Forty something years ago I developed a deep faith in God that I spent all these years cultivating. He reached out and saved my life. Just like He promised He would.
I was so scared on many days that this experience was going to cause me to snap my heart shut and never trust or let love in again. That would’ve been so against the nature of who I truly am. I have always been an open and trusting soul. I love everyone and trust they feel the same about me. That’s precisely how I get myself into situations like this. Being open fosters a certain naivety, but if I had closed up, forming a hard shell around my loss, I probably would be carrying the same pain with me into yet another year.
Throughout this journey I have learned lessons of stillness, surrender, deference, patience, calmness, faith, and endurance. These things have changed me radically. The one thing that didn’t change was my openness to trust, love, understand, forgive and accept. My soft place is still available. Today in my morning meditation, Julia Cameron stated:
“In order to move through loss and beyond it, we must acknowledge it and share it. We must be alert to flag and mourn our losses.”
The day I flagged it – realized I was mourning a loss – was the day I began to take the first steps toward getting to where I am today. Then I shared it with you in this blog. Together we walked through the pain of loss and came out on the other side still intact.
And so, as another day goes by, I realize the crack in a broken heart is the passage way to that soft place, and….I have written.
December 27th, 2011 Tonight on the news they were doing a sports story and talking to a team owner on the football field. Next to the owner was a young girl, very expensively dressed. As I was checking out her huge Coach bag, the thought of what it would feel like to have “real” money graced my brain – only for a brief second before I remembered I wasn’t ever going to experience that. Then next news story was about a family in need and I knew I could never sit on a pile of money and watch others go without.
I found out about seven or eight years ago there was no chance of me ever me ever winning the lottery. My husband and I played the same set of numbers since we were 30 years old. I remember praying to God over and over to please let us win. I even used to bargain with God – you know how that goes – God let me win and I’ll do wonderful things for you with the money. This went on for years, this yearning to wake up the next morning with all six numbers matching the ones parading across the bottom of the news.
Finally, about seven or eight years ago this lottery thing between me and God was settled. One day in the middle of my lottery begging prayer, I just stopped and shook my head and said to God, “I ain’t ever gonna win this, am I?” He promptly said, “You finally got it. I’ve made sure your family was taken care of all theses years. Have I ever let you down? Linda, you know as well as I do that as soon as I give you all that money you will be a poor manager of it, but even worse, you will not depend on me for your daily needs anymore. No, my dear, you are not a candidate for millionaire-hood.”
And deep down inside, I knew He was right. I knew I’d get so caught up in the money I’d make all the decisions without ever consulting God, because feeling I knew better and could do things my way was a spiritual fault of mine. (I always thought I was God’s PA) I’d only run to God after I made a huge mess. As far as managing it, I’d lose it in a matter of months because I have my father’s generous nature. Growing up we were an average, Beaver Cleaver family and did not have a lot left over at the end of each month, but if my father saw someone who desperately needed something he had, or needed money we ourselves didn’t have, he’d give it to them. Even now, if you go into my dad’s house and compliment him on something more than likely he’ll say you can have it. Back in November I remember telling him about seeing the new iPhone and telling him as soon as I had the two hundred dollars I was going to get it. He offered me the money then and there. Clearly, my dad and I could probably give away a million dollars in less time than it would take to cash the lottery check.
And the ironic thing about me wanting the million dollars? So I could keep a good amount in the bank and feel safe and secure. Here God has kept me and mine safe and secure for well over forty years. How could I ever compare that kind of security with a million dollars in my hands? Over the last eight or so years since I found out I was not a lottery candidate, I have come to view God as my banker who provides exactly what my family and I need – no more no less. No less because I have faith He’ll always take care of our needs, and no more because He knows He can’t trust me with it. I’m happy not to have the responsibility for a million dollars – bad decisions with that much money are too stressful. Right now God and I are discussing some new vehicles and few home improvements because it’s my job to take good care of all He has blessed us with so far.
And so, as another day goes by, for me, “real” faith far outweighs “real” money, and….I have written.
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