Choosing Expectations

It's the day after Christmas. The house is quiet. Alan has gone to work. Claire is off on a pet sitting job, and Sam is still snoozing away.

There's been a lot of stress in our pre-holiday household -- facing our first Christmas without Byron. Sam is in the middle of changing colleges. Claire just graduated from college a couple of weeks ago and has been searching for her first full time job. Add to that the regular stressors of the season and my own familial issues, and we had the potential for a huge, unpleasant Christmas Day.

Three weeks ago I wrote about my concerns for the season. About wanting to feel excited and upbeat, but instead feeling a bit cynical and working to lower my expectations. And here's what I discovered. Really taking the time to determine what was important to me for the season helped everyone else have a better season as well.

I let go of Norman Rockwell/Martha Stewart visions. I accepted that the Publix and Apple commercials, while lovely to watch, are not reality. By focusing more on Advent and, oddly enough, my own wants and wishes, instead of trying to make it all perfect for everyone else, I had a calmer, more relaxed, and appreciative day than I have had in years. 

It wasn't perfect. 

My chocolate chess pie baked all over my oven on Tuesday, so I had to clean the oven instead of baking Cranberry Orange Nut bread, but I'll make it for New Year's Day instead. And the pie was ugly, but still delicious, and no one seemed to care. The Milk Salad wasn't the best one I've ever made, but it happens. The Cinnamon Eve Buns tasted heavenly, but fell apart when Claire turned them out of the pan. 

But my kids liked their presents more than I had expected (even though we toned it way down this year), and I even managed to surprise Alan with a couple of gifts and lift his spirits. We went to the in-laws and had a pretty good time. It didn't run like clockwork, and was actually quite chaotic, but I chose not to stress it. I chose.

That's been the key phrase for me this year -- choosing what to take on as my responsibility. Choosing to make my wants and wishes as important as everyone else's. And accepting that I can't make everything work out perfectly for everyone else, because it's not my job and I don't have that kind of power.

So it's the day after Christmas. My kitchen is clean. The wrapping paper is all picked up from the living room floor. I got some lovely goodies. Ate some pretty good food. Helped some other people have a good time. Talked and laughed with my kids and husband. And I never got angry or yelled a single time. 

Merry Christmas 2013. It was good to see you.

Expectant Waiting

Mother's know all about it. Nine months of waiting and wondering and falling in love. Then all those years of teaching and loving and praying. 

Advent is the season of expectant waiting. It is the celebration, in many ways, of Mary's willingness to serve without fully understanding what she was being asked to do.

I live in a world that wants instant gratification. Total explanations. Total preparations. What exactly is going to happen. And it better not alter from what I've been told. 

That kind of expectation slinks in innocuously. It's insidious. It creeps in and takes over my life. It starts out harmlessly enough. "Your pizza will be ready in 15 minutes or it's free!" I'll get what I want when I want it or it will be free.

And over time I've come to expect that in everything. This depression. These flashbacks. These negative thought patterns. I've identified them and done the prayers and the therapy. I did my part, so what's taking so long? And where's my free pizza?

Expectant waiting. 

For whatever reason, I expected there to be a cathartic moment when it would all just lift and fly away. Don't get me wrong. There have been some cathartic moments. Some of it has lifted and flown away, but there are still seasons of depression, some panic, an occasional flashback, and all with a heaping dose of guilt for not being over this struggle.

And I read Emily Wierenga's post this morning, and I can't get that image of Nelson Mandela out of my head, waiting in prison for 27 years, so long he forgot how to tie his shoes.

So I wait. Not for my free pizza, but for the gift that is Advent while realizing we are all waiting, and it is in the waiting that we learn and grow the most.

linking up with Imperfect Prose

Cynicism and Expectation

Yesterday was crafting day with my best friend. We get together on Tuesdays to work on projects, encourage each other, talk, and do yoga. Yesterday was mostly encouragement and yoga. 

It's the holidays, and as hard as I try I can't seem to avoid a downward turn in my mood. Just as everyone else seems to be gearing up into super happy mode, I'm turning into a sleeping hermit.

I want to be excited and upbeat. Energized by the carols and decorations, but mostly I just wonder why I'm not. There are a lot of things that feed into the holiday slump. This year is our first Christmas without my father in law. We always went to his house on Christmas morning, and he LOVED watching the kids open presents. There is a changing of the guard this year.

We don't see my family at Christmas. Too many difficult memories and associations, not to mention hurt feelings. It's a choice I made, but it hurts nonetheless. I want something I can't have. Expectations can be hard to release.

I'm trying something new this year. I wrote about it a little bit on Monday. And I'm following The Nourished Home as she leads us From Hectic to Harmonious. Yesterday's focus was "How do I want to feel this season?" Here's what I came up with --

1. peaceful (full of peace) 

2. content (not needing anything or any competition) 

3. at ease (comfortable with how MY holidays play out) 

4. I want to feel God's presence in this time of celebration 

5. grateful (letting go of worries, and be thankful for all that I have)

I'm taking my expectations down a notch, and I'm choosing to be a little cynical about what I see on Pinterest and social media, reminding myself that those are wishes and highlight reels. 

And I'm focusing on Advent. The season of waiting. Lighting my candles and enjoying the warmth from the glow that remind me it is worth the wait.

linking up with imperfect prose

A Gift

I haven't seen my parents in nearly a year. 
It was my choice to take a break from interacting with them, as I try to continue healing from CSA and 2 rapes as an adult.
I finally ran out of strength and energy to try and get them to understand my pain, and the things I needed from them.
I didn't stop loving them or wanting their approval. 
What I am learning is that I can love them in all their imperfection, and that their not understanding doesn't equal not loving me.

Last night my daughter had dinner with them and took my Christmas gift to them. My hope was that it would be a way for me help them see me -- who I really am. I put a basket together filled with significant things from my life, and I enclosed a letter explaining each item.

Dear Mother and Daddy,

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year all rolled into one!

This year I have decided to do a joint gift for you. It is a basket filled with things I love and want to share with you. This note is an explanation of each item.

Mother, this shawl is for you. It is made of 100% recycled cotton yarn. When I first returned to crocheting a few years ago, I was determined to learn to read patterns, and this is the first shawl I made using a pattern. I have kept it because I loved it so much, and now I want you to have it. The colors make me think of you. You may wear it or use it as a table linen. I hope you enjoy it. (It can be machine washed on a cold delicate cycle, and then laid flat to dry.)

Daddy, the prayer beads are for you. I have always been intrigued by prayer beads, and as I have worked on healing I have found them to be very helpful in keeping me centered in moments of panic or stress. I have included instructions on how to use them, along with a prayer from Julian of Norwich. Turquoise is one of my favorite stones to work with, and I hope you will enjoy using them or just looking at them and thinking of me. (If you are interested in more information on using them, I have some books you could look at. Feel free to email me about them.)

The remaining items are for you to share:

Common Prayer: A Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals is a devotional book that I have been using for a couple of years now. It is based on The Book of Common Prayer, but has been modernized and simplified. Each day provides a message, readings from the Old and New Testaments and Psalms, as well as a hymn (all in the back of the volume) and then providing an opportunity to pray for others. I frequently look the hymns up on YouTube and listen to them as I read. This particular volume has opened my eyes to a greater understanding of God’s love for all people, and helped me widen my world view.

"The Ghost on the Canvas" is Glen Campbell’s final cd. He has retired since being diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. Campbell has always been one of my favorites. I feel as if I grew up listening to him, along with the Lettermen, and Jimmie Driftwood, among others. Anyway, I have found this cd to be very moving both musically and lyrically. I hope you both enjoy it as well.

First Watch (gift certificate) is a new restaurant in town. I know how much you enjoy going out to eat, and I always enjoy sharing new places with you. The restaurant serves breakfast and lunch until 2:30, no dinner. The food is lovely! Wonderful eggs, waffles, pancakes, sandwiches, and soups. I hope you get a chance to try it, and let me know what you think.

Finally, the basket is from SERRV.org. They are a fair trade organization, and I like the hands on quality of their items, as well as knowing the gift serves a dual purpose. Of course, my theory is you can never have too many baskets!

I want you both to know that I appreciate this time you are giving to me to work on healing, and I look forward to continuing to improve and deepen our relationship. I love you both very much.

Blessings

My daughter said they seemed pleased and touched. I have felt good about this gift for them. I investigated my motivations. I had close friends read the letter. I felt happy with what I had done. 

But now after it is all said and done, I'm not sure what I feel. I am glad that they received it well. I know that I can't control their reactions, and I know that one gift does not heal the past. I want it to be a point of moving forward. I want to get to a place where I can be physically present with them, and be glad to be there. I don't want them to hurt, but I don't want to hurt anymore either.

And so, once again, I hand it over to God. I pray for guidance. I pray for peace. And I remind myself that real life is messy, and looks nothing like a Hallmark Christmas card.

linking up to imperfect prose on thursday

Five Minute Friday -- Path

The path was straight and easy to follow. It led from my grandparents' house to my great-aunt and uncle's house. Walk out the front door and down the steps. Turn to my right, and head toward the corn field. Cut down the center of the field in between the rows of corn that tower over me. That's the only scary part. If I can get through the corn field, it's easy peasy from there. Once I can see the rest of the garden, it's only another moment or two until I can see the house. It's all happiness and joy once the house is in sight. Through the vegetable garden with the cherry tomato plants, and just keep heading toward the grey stone house. The big trees surround it letting in dappled sunlight that invites me to the love that is in the house and surrounding yard. 

It's really a short path, even for my 5 year old legs, but it's a world away from the mean old great great aunt who hates me and hits me. The end of that path is peace, love, and acceptance.

link up at the gypsy mama

Five Minute Friday: Expectation

I have expectations. I expect to be treated with respect. I expect my parents to want to share my pain. I expect them to respond as other people do. I expect things from them I have no reason to expect given my history with them.


Expectations can bring hope and joy and comfort -- unless they are not met. 


Unmet expectations bring pain and sadness and grief -- and somehow a feeling that I have failed.
Failed to explain myself and my life experiences.
Failed to make my parents proud enough of me that they will love me unconditionally.
Failed to be the kind of person they will believe and support and lift up.


Expectations are mine to adjust to reality -- not to what has been hoped for.


I expect that my parents will not change. I expect that they will continue to hurt me and let me down. I expect that I must learn to manage these expectations -- to learn to accept the realities of unmet expectations.


link up at the gypsy mama

I Am a Good Person! -- Weekend Linkup

Abuse has long standing and far reaching effects. My experience has been that just about the time I think I have a handle on it, something new comes along to challenge the work I have done.


This past weekend brought some new challenges. My dd came home for a visit from the program she is in to deal with her chemical disorder. My expectation was that I would be excited to have her home for a visit. The reality was that I was very worried, tense and nervous about all of us falling back into bad patterns of behavior and coping with stress. The truth of the weekend was a mix of both. 


It's amazing the things I hear coming out of my mouth sometimes! Thankfully, most of those comments come in safe environments, like with my therapist or in private conversations with my dh. Last week talking to my therapist, I said, "I just want to do everything right this weekend, because I am worried about doing the wrong thing and ruining everything." That's classic abuse reaction. Take full responsibility for everything that goes wrong in any situation. I know I don't really have that kind of power, but my experiences led me to believe that if I had just done/or not done certain things, I could have controlled the abusers -- kept them from hurting me. That's re-victimization I think. Letting the abusers make me responsible for their actions. It's a defense mechanism. Everyone uses it to a certain degree. There is safety and security in believing that a person becomes a victim because they neglected to take proper precautions. The problem with that way of thinking is that it's false. You can do everything "right" and still be victimized or have an accident through no fault of your own. That's especially true of children.


Once more, God provided lessons and reassurance that I needed. A good Sunday school lesson on the difference between expectations and desires. A wonderful sermon on God's relationship with us and His desire for our relationships with one another. My dh once again giving me the pep talk and reminders that I am a good person who had bad things done to her (and he still makes me laugh). 


So the weekend's over and things will go back to routine, except it's never routine -- so bring it on Monday!


(this is a repost from 9/27/2010) 

link up at Write on Edge

I Am a Good Person

Abuse has long standing and far reaching effects. My experience has been that just about the time I think I have a handle on it, something new comes along to challenge the work I have done.


This past weekend brought some new challenges. My dd came home for a visit from the program she is in to deal with her chemical disorder. My expectation was that I would be excited to have her home for a visit. The reality was that I was very worried, tense and nervous about all of us falling back into bad patterns of behavior and coping with stress. The truth of the weekend was a mix of both. 


It's amazing the things I hear coming out of my mouth sometimes! Thankfully, most of those comments come in safe environments, like with my therapist or in private conversations with my dh. Last week talking to my therapist, I said, "I just want to do everything right this weekend, because I am worried about doing the wrong thing and ruining everything." That's classic abuse reaction. Take full responsibility for everything that goes wrong in any situation. I know I don't really have that kind of power, but my experiences led me to believe that if I had just done/or not done certain things, I could have controlled the abusers -- kept them from hurting me. That's re-victimization I think. Letting the abusers make me responsible for their actions. It's a defense mechanism. Everyone uses it to a certain degree. There is safety and security in believing that a person becomes a victim because they neglected to take proper precautions. The problem with that way of thinking is that it's false. You can do everything "right" and still be victimized or have an accident through no fault of your own. That's especially true of children.


Once more, God provided lessons and reassurance that I needed. A good Sunday school lesson on the difference between expectations and desires. A wonderful sermon on God's relationship with us and His desire for our relationships with one another. My dh once again giving me the pep talk and reminders that I am a good person who had bad things done to her (and he still makes me laugh). 


So the weekend's over and things will go back to routine, except it's never routine -- so bring it on Monday!