Sunday Evening

Write 31 Days Day #15

We've eaten dinner. The leftovers need storing and the dishwasher needs to be started, but I'm sort of watching a football game while snuggling with Millie and contemplating what this week holds.

I'm attempting to establish a new normal. Today I've found myself really thinking about what I want. That's not something I give much thought to. As a friend recently said my role has completely shifted. I used to be a care-taker, albeit of able-bodied people. Now my role needs to become something different. It's both exciting and terrifying. Fun and sad. 

There's a lot of material about creating the second half of your life. That's good. I like to have books and blogs and articles to read. But I'm still dealing with the sudden shift. I wasn't planning on such a dramatic change for my second half.

I don't mean to whine. I'm just struggling. I'm happy to be writing again and hope to continue regularly after October. I really do want to work on a memoir, but I'm overwhelmed by the idea. I'll need to find employment at some point. Some days I think I just want something mindless, and other days I think I want a new degree and a new challenge. Going back to school sounds fun and crazy. I know lots of people my age who have done that, but I'm not sure I have enough drive to stay the course for another degree when I'm not sure what I want to do. 

I really believe I'd be further along on this journey by now. (I can hear my daughter laughing at me as I type those words!) It's possible I'm expecting a bit much from myself. I have a tendency toward that. 

So I guess I'll just keep moving forward. Reminding myself that I'm not on a schedule and the only being I'm accountable to is God. And I know He's got things covered.

Blessings!

Books 2.1

Write 31 Days Day #14

This is my new approach to keeping up with my reading list. I have placed, what I hope, are decorative stacks around the house. This is because I can't seem to remember what's next! It also helps me to control purchasing more books. When I complete a book, especially devotional titles, I need to know what's next, and stacks make that easier.

This stack includes:

--Saving Jesus from the Church by Robin R. Meyers

--Circle Maker Praying Circles around Your Biggest Dreams and Greatest Fears by Mark Batterson

--A History of Christianity Vol. 1 by Kenneth S. Latourette

--Prayers by Michel Quoist

--TrueFaced by Bill Thrall and Bruce McNicol

--The Sacred Art of Lovingkindness by Rabbi Rami Shapiro

--A Million Little Ways by Emily Freeman

--Faith Unraveled by Rachel Held Evans

--We Make the Road by Walking by Brian McLaren

--Devotional Classics by Richard J. Foster and James Bryan Smith

Clearly I have my work cut out for me.

Blessings!

Crochet and Healing [day 10]

My grandmother was a crocheter. She did fine thread crochet -- bedspreads and tablecloths. Large projects of intricate design. I wanted to know how to do it but was too intimidated to ask her to teach me.

When I was in high school (back in the dark ages!) we learned to crochet in Home Economics. We had a spinster lady who taught the class, and she was old as the hills. Rather than teach us basic crochet skills that we could build on, she taught us one rather esoteric stitch, broomstick lace. I excelled at it but had no idea how to transfer that knowledge to learning basic stitches or reading patterns. So I felt like a fraud telling people I knew how to crochet.

Fast forward many years. My college age daughter suffered a trauma of her own, and one of her friends suggested taking up knitting as a calming mechanism. I tried knitting, but couldn't get the hang of it. Did I mention I'm left handed which adds a whole different issue to learning handwork? Watching my daughter knit got me pondering crocheting. Could I teach myself those basic stitches? Could I learn to read patterns?

I found a class at the local library and did learn those basics. I took another class at the local yarn shop and learned about reading patterns, and about asking for help. I also learned it was best to explain that, yes, my hands shake terribly when I'm nervous, and yes, I'm nervous a lot. 

I watched YouTube videos and found out there are left handed instruction books and videos!

And then I was hooked! I started crocheting, at first just to have something to occupy my hands and mind. I made scarves and dishcloths. I was so stinking proud! Later I began to wonder about afghans, lap rugs, and shawls. 

Ahhh, shawls. Prayer shawls in particular. Are you seeing a theme here? My desire to create was leading me to desire to know God more authentically. 

I began to make things for myself and as gifts. I was commissioned to make some afghans, but quickly learned I don't work well under that kind of pressure. I make what I want and do with it what I want.

I found the stitching soothed my rattled mind and I had something beautiful to show for it when I was done. Crocheting also opened unexpected doors of conversation. When I wear a piece I've made it frequently leads to comments, questions, and conversation. A really good thing for an introvert like me. I'm not good at chit chat, but I can explain what I do, even if it means accepting a compliment (hard still). Most places I go these days I carry my crochet basket filled with my current project. People asked me about the basket or its contents, and the next thing I know I'm having a friendly conversation often with a total stranger. And most of the time I'm okay with that.

Sometimes we all need a bit of help and encouragement to get outside of ourselves, and that's okay. Just keep in mind that encouragement may come from the most unexpected places.

This is day 10 in Write 31 Days

Trust and Healing [day 9]

Trust is a big word for survivors of child sexual abuse and trauma in general.

Somewhere along the way our trust was shattered and we have a difficult time figuring out how to regain it.

I left on Thursday to fly to a spa in Austin, Texas. I'm spending a week on my own getting some rest, relaxation, good food, pampering, and reassessing my approach to physical activity.

I can still remember the first time I travelled on my own after being diagnosed with PTSD. I was so proud of myself when I managed to take a train from Rye, NY into the city and visit a few sites in NYC. I also remember thinking how silly it was for me to be that proud of myself.

Yesterday a lot of those feelings came back as I travelled from Nashville to Austin, found the transportation to the spa, and handled all the tipping and checking in for myself. I realize that for some of you this won't sound like much, and for others it will seem remarkable. And therein lies the issue. For years, I just assumed that no one worried about things kinds of things but me. I believed there was something inherently wrong with me that I was afraid to trust myself to handle these kinds of situations. That I worried I'd make a fool of myself. That one of those strangers I'd have to deal with would take advantage of me.

So far this trip has been lovely, not completely trouble free, but still wonderful. Maybe one of the best things so far are the notes that are left on my bed at turn down time.

Good reminders that I may not be doing everything perfectly, but that's okay!



This is day 9 in Write 31 Days

Travel and Healing [day 7]

I didn't grow up doing much in the way of travel. My husband, on the other hand, travelled quite a bit. 

He loves to have a trip to look forward to, and even enjoys the process of planning the itinerary.

This year we celebrated our 30th wedding anniversary, but we couldn't seem to get excited about the same kind of trip to celebrate. So . . . I leave tomorrow to spend a week at a beautiful spa in Texas all by myself!

Let me be clear, my husband offered this trip to me. I would NEVER have come up with this on my own. I am very grateful for this gift and looking forward to it in a big way.

It took me a long time to embrace the travelling vibe, and I still don't crave it or have the energy for it that my husband does. I have learned to navigate flights and airport to hotel transportation on my own. It's something I'm proud of accomplishing. As an introvert, I like the idea of visiting places and getting to set the schedule to please me and having a room all to myself. The downside for the introvert and travel is all of those strangers I have to interact with, but that's probably good for me.

I'll do my best to keep posting (hopefully without making anyone TOO jealous!) while I'm out of town. In the meantime, I hope to have some time to catch up on all the reading I'm behind on. 

Travel is a good method of healing. Yes, it can be expensive, but it doesn't have to be. A change of scenery gives me the opportunity to walk away from the stress and daily struggle for a bit. I can be someone anonymous or someone completely different. I highly recommend it if you have the means.

This is day 7 in Write 31 Days

Creativity and Healing [day 6]

Yesterday I wrote about relationships and healing. I want to clarify one thing before going on to today's post. I was not hurt or disappointed by what happened in my small group. It is the nature of life that sometimes moments get interrupted. I did not feel snubbed or judged. I never intended for the post to be negative, but rather to show how difficult it still is to share my history. 

*****

I never considered myself a creative person, and yet I have found so much healing by allowing myself to create. 

It started with coloring. I needed something to do that occupied my mind, was restful, but required little thought. I loved the idea of sketching, but I can barely draw a recognizable stick figure. I kept reading about art therapy and how so many survivors were helped my drawing their feelings. I did a few exercises, but was never happy with the results (I'm a bit of a perfectionist). 

I don't know who first suggested coloring, but I think it was my husband. I played around with it a bit, testing to see what kind of coloring books relaxed me. I tried crayons and markers, but I found that colored pencils were the most soothing. I got a fairy coloring book (I have an affinity for fairies) and began to take it with me anywhere I had to wait. At the time I was getting allergy shots, and the process had become extremely triggering for me. Walking into the office knowing I was going to let them hurt me, even though it was for my own good, was a tough pill to swallow. 

One day after getting my shots, I was waiting the required 30 minutes and using the time to color. Another lady in the waiting room complimented my picture. She asked if I was a school teacher. I realized I was going to have to tell her something. Another thing you need to know about me, I'm pathologically honest. Especially early on in my recovery I didn't know how to do evasive without it feeling as if I were lying. So I told her it was part of my therapy. I did it to relax in stressful situations. As I sat there waiting for her to mock me, I was surprised to hear her say what a good idea that was. She'd never thought of that before. She had loved coloring as a child and wasn't sure why she'd given it up. Maybe she'd get a coloring book for herself.

I was stunned! That certainly hadn't gone the way I expected.

Now I'm amused by all of the "adult" coloring books that are available. Don't get me wrong, I think it's fabulous. It's just funny to me that nearly 15 years after coloring helped to save my life, everyone's on the bandwagon. Maybe I'm a trendsetter!

This is day 6 in Write 31 Days

Relationships and Healing [day 5]

Nothing has impacted my healing as much as relationships with other people. 

Last night I was reminded of this all over again.

My husband and I were at our small group dinner. There were fewer of us than usual, with several of our members out of town. We sat around eating soup, chips, avocado, and watermelon, and talking about church and life. After dessert (a pumpkin bundt cake -- I'll share the recipe later!), we moved into the sitting room to continue talking.

I'm not sure how it happened, but people began sharing a bit of their histories and life stories. I listened as people told about their children and then the stories would segue to family of origin. One thing led to another and I was sharing my history. Not all the gory details but more than my standard quick and dirty version. I was crocheting as I talked and I never looked up from my work (a typical avoidance technique I use). There were a few comments, but mostly what I felt was stunned silence. 

Our conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the host's daughter, so I never really found out what anyone thought or felt about my revelations. The group dispersed and I found myself walking to the car in a daze, knotting my hands in my purse strap. Sitting in the car, my husband expressed concern that I would begin to doubt myself. We talked a bit about what had just happened. I tried to quell the rising anxiety that always comes with revealing my past to new people. 

Other people had shared difficult pasts as well, and I knew I felt no differently about them. I knew I was glad that our group had moved into a deeper level of knowing one another, but it was difficult to quiet the old tapes in my head -- the ones that tell me I won't be believed; that I'll be shunned; that the world will come crashing down.

At home, I moved into my standard coping and relaxing mechanisms, worrying than I wouldn't be able to sleep. But sleep came fairly easily with only 1 or 2 bad dreams. 

Healing is a constant, on-going process. Building and maintaining relationships are part of the path. 

I guess I placed another stone last night.



This is day 5 in Write 31 Days

Books and Healing [day 4]

I am a librarian by profession, so books have always been my first line of defense. When I was diagnosed I went looking for books to verify the diagnosis and help me understand what it really meant. I also love to read fiction and was surprised at how certain novels impacted my recovery. Spirituality became difficult and yet incredibly necessary, and so I looked for books to help me reconnect with God in a more authentic manner. The following are just some of the titles I've found helpful.

Allen, Jon G. Coping With Trauma: A Guide to Self-Understanding. Washington, D.C.: American Psychiatric Press, c1995.

Benson, Robert. A Good Life: Benedict's Guide to Everyday Joy. Brewster, MA: Paraclete Press, c2004. (out of print)

Claiborne Shane, et al. Common Prayer: A Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, c2010.

Engel, Beverly. The Right to Innocence: Healing the Trauma of Childhood Sexual Abuse. New York: Ivy Books, c1989.

Evans, Rachel Held. A Year of Biblical Womanhood. Nashville: Thomas Nelson, c2012.

Godden, Rumer. In This House of Brede. Chicago: Loyola Press, 2005.

Herman, Judith. Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence – From Domestic Abuse to Political Terror. New York: Perseus Books, c1997.

Lucado, Max. God Thinks You're Wonderful! Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson, c2003.

Martel, Yann. Life of Pi: A Novel. New York: Harcourt Inc., c2001.

Meyers, Robert R. Morning Sun on a White Piano: Simple Pleasures and the Sacramental Life. New York: Galilee Book, c1998.

O'Connor, Flannery. A Prayer Journal. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, c2013.

Palacio, R.J. Wonder. New York: Alfred J. Knopf, c2012.

Peterson, Margaret Kim. Keeping House: The Litany of Everyday Life. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass, c2007.

This is day 4 in Write 31 Days

Beading and Healing [day 3]

Yesterday I taught a friend how to make Anglican prayer beads.

I started making prayer beads over 10 years ago. 

Prayer beads and rosaries have fascinated me since I was a child. I grew up as a conservative Protestant in the 60s and 70s. At that time anything with any semblance of "high church" was frowned upon in my tradition. Nothing liturgical, and certainly nothing that could be construed as idols. But my nextdoor neighbors were Catholic and all the people on TV seemed to be "high church". I liked all the pageantry and paraphernalia that seemed to go with it.

When I began having flashbacks and panic attacks, I needed something to keep me grounded in the present. A therapist suggested holding a rock or a comb. My husband suggested a stuffed animal, but I knew immediately I needed prayer beads.

I began to investigate on the internet. A friend at work shared a book with me, Bead One, Pray Too by Kimberly Wilson and I was off. I liked the idea of making the beads myself. Picking the exact beads for size, weight, and texture made the process soothing and having the process behind me made using the beads all the more comforting.

Since then I've taught classes on making and using prayer beads. I've given them as gifts. I've even sold them. 

I still find something calming about the process of getting out my beads and feeling them, picking beads that compliment one another and stringing them all the time knowing they will help someone else. 

That process is much like praying itself.

Additional resources on prayer beads --

A String and a Prayer by Eleanor Wiley and Maggie Oman Shannon

Praying with Beads by Nan Lewis Doerr and Virginia Stem Owens

http://www.kingofpeace.org/prayerbeads.htm

This is day 3 in Write 31 Days

Family and Healing [day 2]

The first place I looked for healing was my family. What I found out was family can mean a lot of different things.

When I was first diagnosed my therapist wanted to get my blood family in to help me out as quickly as possible (they are not the abusers). I was terrified of the idea, but he assured me they would be a wonderful resource. 

He was wrong. 

Later he apologized to me. He'd made a bad assumption and I had been re-injured by it. 

Once I began to recover from that, I also began to realize that I had the opportunity to create my own family -- people that were there for me and would care for me in a way that supported my healing. I also accepted that I'd have to walk away from my blood family (some permanently, others just for awhile) to fully heal.

My new family is made up of my husband and children. My friends, some I've known all my life and some who are relatively new. My therapists became extended family members. And even my pets took on a special role in my healing family.

I also returned to my love of stuffed animals and incorporated some new "furries" into my family, most notably Yolie and Chai. I have a small crib in my bedroom filled with all the guys who've helped me out on this journey. It used to embarrass me, now I just want everyone to have a furry friend.

Family IS important to healing. Just don't limit your concept.

linking up with Five Minute Friday

This is day 2 in Write 31 Days

31 Days of Healing

It's October 1st. The first day of Write31Days. I spent half the day yesterday trying to create a "button". I really don't know what my theme is. I don't have a plan or cute graphics. 

This is the way I write.

Last night I asked my husband what my theme should be, and he quickly responded "Healing". I told him I'd been thinking about spirituality and what my path had looked like, but I liked his idea of incorporating all the paths to healing -- emotional, physical, creative, spiritual, relational.

So that's my goal this month.

Those of you who have read me before know that goals are not my strong suit, so I'll be giving myself A LOT of grace on this one. I will try to write something every day, but I won't beat me up on the days I don't succeed.

For those of you who've never been here before, I'll give you the quick and dirty version of my history. I was diagnosed 15 years ago with chronic PTSD as the result of childhood sexual abuse and 2 rapes as an adult. It's been a long road, and this blog has helped immensely in my healing. (If you'd like to know more of the story, click My Story at the top of the page.)

So that's my first day. We shall see where the path leads. I hope you'll travel with me.

Blessings!

Write 31 Days

Day 1 -- Introduction

Day 2 -- Family (FMF)

Day 3 -- Beading and Healing 

Day 4 -- Books and Healing

Day 5 -- Relationships and Healing

Day 6 -- Creativity and Healing

Day 7 -- Travel and Healing

Day 8 -- (travel day)

Day 9 -- Trust and Healing

Day 10 -- Crochet and Healing 

Day 11 -- 

Day 12 --

Day 13 --

Day 14 --

Day 15 --

Day 16 --

Day 17 --

Day 18 --

Day 19 --

Day 20 --

Day 21 --

Day 22 --

Day 23 --

Day 24 --

Day 25 --

Day 26 --

Day 27 --

Day 28 --

Day 29 --

Day 30 --

Day 31 --

Leave

It's time to leave October behind. It's the last day. The day kids have been waiting for -- costumes and candy.

Leaving is part of living. Sometimes we leave places, jobs, people. Sometimes we leave because we have to; sometimes because we don't get a choice. Leaving is good. Leaving is bad. To leave is to change.

And if we don't ever leave, we don't change, we don't grow.

Eventually we leave school and home. We build new homes, sometimes with new people and sometimes on our own. Either way we can't have the new without leaving.

I've left school and home. I've left jobs that just didn't work out and jobs I've loved. I left friends because the time for that friendship ended or distance just got in the way.

The hardest leaving is when you leave to help yourself knowing it hurts someone else in the process. I've done that one too. Sometimes it's temporary leaving. Sometimes it's forever.

Today I'm leaving the 31 days behind me. But I'm not forgetting them. I'm incorporating them into my life which is richer for this experience. 

Blessings. 

(Congratulations to all the other 31 dayers out there. We did it!)

linking up with Five Minute Friday and 31 Days of Writing

Juxtaposition

Mama Kat gave me juxtaposing prompts this week.

List 7 things you miss about being a kid.

Write a post inspired by the word: bitter.

It's a double whammy for me. How do I determine what I miss from a childhood of broken memories? Am I bitter (angry, hurt, or resentful because of one's bad experiences or a sense of unjust treatment) about those broken memories? Maybe I have to answer both to answer either one very well.

What do I miss about my childhood? Well I miss thinking everything was normal, just the way it was supposed to be. The thing about kids is they tend to assume whatever their world looks like is reality for everyone. There is a (false) sense of security in feeling superior to other people. 

I also miss some really key people from my childhood. My great-grandmother called Nur (nuh) and her sister, Auntie (ainty) and her husband Uncle Horace. They were my havens of safety growing up. I doubt they knew it, but I sure did. The unconditional love they showed me probably kept me going, even through all the horrors.

There are a few toys from my childhood I wish hadn't gotten lost along the way, but I still have my treasured Dahlia and the red rocking chair I got the same Christmas she came to live with me.

I miss reading all night long, because I could. It's easier when you don't have anywhere to be the next day. And I miss eating Nana rolls until I was nearly sick, and fried chicken at my daddy's mama's house. I miss feeling as if I belonged with that group of people, but they're all gone now.

Am I bitter? I don't think so. My life wasn't a bowl of cherries, but it wasn't all bad either. I went through some horrific experiences, but I did have a family. A place to live and good food to eat. I had family who loved me as best they could, I guess. No, I'm not bitter. But I am sad. There are a lot of experiences I'll never have as they were meant to be. Like sex with my husband the first time, or feeling accepted and secure right away with other people. I missed out on childhood the way it was meant to be. Innocent. 

For whatever reason, I've never felt the need to play the "why me" card. "Why not me" has always been the question for me. I wouldn't wish those experiences on anyone else. Not anyone. No, not even the abusers themselves. It's not that I'm happy or okay that it did happen to me. I think I'm just accepting that what was, was. It's not something I can change, so there's no point dwelling on it.

It's taken me years to work through a lot of the issues, and I'm sure there will always be things that crop up. Things to be addressed as time goes by, but that's true for everyone. 

I guess my life is actually just like everyone else's. There were good things and bad things. Things I miss and things I'm glad are in the past. Life goes on.

linking up with Writer's Workshop and 31 Days of Writing

Unite

Unite -- come or bring together for a common purpose or action

That's one of the best benefits of 31 Days of Writing. Writing is by its very nature a solitary activity. Those of us who write do it because we feel compelled to put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard, but we do it alone. 

As a rule I'm okay with that. But every now and then it's nice to be reminded that while I am alone in my nook writing, there are lots of other people alone in their own nooks writing as well. And that makes me part of something larger. 

For the past 29 days we've had the opportunity to write and share about what ever interests us, and it's been wonderful. I've connected with people on my blog, on their blogs, and on our Facebook page. 

We're creating a community of writers that will last long after these 31 days are behind us.

linking up with 31 Days of Writing and Five Minute Free Writes

The Simple Woman's Daybook

FOR TODAY . . . October 28, 2014

Outside my window . . . the skies are overcast, but there is a beautiful sugar maple turning shades of orange highlighted against the gray skies.

I am thinking . . . about understanding the differences between "want to" and "need to" particularly as it applies to my lifestyle.

I am thankful . . . for a good night's rest.

In the kitchen . . . last night we had pot roast with roasted potatoes, carrots and onion, and steamed green beans. Tonight is pasta and sausage.

I am wearing . . . a cotton gown with my turquoise and red shawl.

I am creating . . . more goodies for Presents with a Purpose (November 8th -- The Well).

I am going . . . to therapy and then home for a couple of hours of creativity with my bestie.

I am wondering . . . about trust and faith in God. I don't know if I have faith about the future or if I am just naive in believing things will be fine.

I am reading . . . The Secret Rooms: A True Story of a Haunted Castle, a Plotting Duchess, and a Family Secret by Catherine Bailey

I am looking forward to . . . all the little trick-or-treaters on Friday night. Now that my kids are all grown, it's nice to just sit back and hand out candy.

I am hearing . . . the dogs puttering around the house after their breakfast and possibly my dear son rousing himself for school.

Around the house . . . order is returning. At my pace, but I am just fine with that. 

I am praying . . . for peace and understanding concerning change in the future.

One of my favorite things . . . is writing this blog. I've never been very good at keeping up with a diary or journal (except during the worst of the abuse remembering). The blog gives me a journal of sorts, and I feel compelled to do it because I see it as being more for others than myself.

A few plans for the rest of the week . . . no extra activities this week! Yay! Daylight Saving Time ends on Saturday/Sunday, though.

Here is a picture for thought I am sharing . . . 

the Hoosier

linking up with The Simple Woman and 31 Days of Writing