Posts Tagged: life
23
Nov 09
Willpower
It’s not that some people have willpower and some don’t. It’s that some people are ready to change and others are not.
James Gordon
23
Nov 09
Leaf Therapy
I ended up raking leaves today. The wind had done a good job, but there were still quite a few leaves in the back yard – probably has something to do with the fencing.
The sky was gray, and the air had that feeling like the clouds were getting ready to unload their piles of snow. It lent a certain urgency to the raking. I kept telling myself that a cup of coffee would taste that much better if I got one more chore crossed off the list.
__________
I remember after 9/11, I was cleaning my kitchen and thinking, “God, I’m so lucky, I get to clean my kitchen.” It seemed that I shouldn’t allow myself to complain about chores when so many would never be able to complain again. I felt like that while raking leaves today.
I’m lucky that I can rake. Continue reading →
21
Nov 09
Quit Wanting
What if we quit wanting? What if we accepted what was in front us? What if we quit wanting things to be different? What if we set out to change what wasn’t working, and then learned to accept what is just fine?
What if we quit wanting to change our partner, our children, our jobs, our house, our neighbors, and our co-workers?
What if we made the best of what we had, instead of opting for what might be better?
What if we quit wanting better or best, and came to love what might very well be quite good enough?
Can that be done if you are in a relationship with a Narcissist? Continue reading →
18
Nov 09
The Unexpected
Never lose faith. Never lose heart.
There’s always something unexpected
and terrific just around the bend. Unknown
18
Nov 09
Crossing Paths
Jenny is bummed because her closest friend is drifting away. Last year they were in the same class. This year they are in different classes, and while we arrange for the girls to get together outside of class, the relationship is definitely changing. Jen doesn’t understand why Hailey isn’t interested in the same things anymore. Jen wants to know why Hailey doesn’t listen anymore. That’s tough for a 2nd grader. And it’s tough for a 2nd grader’s mom.
But the issue with Hailey opened up an interesting conversation for the three of us. I was trying to explain to Jen and Will about friendships and relationships, in general. I’ve gotten that email about friends, a couple times, now. You know the one — it talks about how some people come into your life briefly, some come into your life for awhile, and some come into your life to stay.
I was trying to explain to Jen that she and Hailey had paths that were headed in the same direction for awhile. They liked the same things, told the same secrets, and giggled at the same time. That was lovely for awhile. But people change, and sometimes their path takes them in a different direction. That’s not a bad thing. It’s a little sad, because you still wish that person’s path was along side yours. But it’s exciting to think that you will be bumping into another person, who may be on the same path as you. And then, at some point, your path will change, and you will veer off in a new direction. I wanted them to see that they should be happy that their paths intersect with other paths for lots of reasons. They should see the benefit of those crossings and not be so blue when the paths head off in new directions. They get to take all the things they learn, and all those shared experiences with them on their own new path.
Of course, that led to my talking about how Mark and I were on the same path for awhile. I wanted them to understand how grateful I am that my path crossed with Mark’s. If it hadn’t, there wouldn’t be Will and Jenny. Naturally, they both wanted to know why my path wasn’t the same as Mark’s anymore. I started to give them that tired old excuse about how people grow and change, and blah, blah, blah. But my kids are pretty visual. I wanted to give them something that would drive the point home. I explained that Mark and I were sort of driving down this path, but it was like we were in two separate cars. I guess I wasn’t comfortable in his car, and he didn’t particularly like my car. His car was fancy and pristine. His car was very organized. You couldn’t drink coffee in his car or eat Goldfish Crackers in his car. Booster seats never really fit properly in his car. My car had plenty of room for booster seats, graham crackers, granola bars, wipes, bikes, stuffed animals, books, papers, crayons, and frisbees.
One day, as we were headed down our path, side-by-side, in our two separate cars, it was like my hand involuntarily (or maybe not so involuntarily) yanked on the steering wheel, my car went out of control, and I crashed right into his car and caused a seriously messed up demolition. I reminded them of those cool demolition derbies that they see on T.V., where the car is totally trashed, but the driver jumps out, arms in the air, grinning from ear to ear. I tried to explain that I had been ready for a new path for awhile. I wasn’t happy traveling that same path with their dad anymore. In order to head out on a new path, I made the choice to not be married to their dad any longer. I pointed out that divorce is a lot like a demolition derby. There’s a lot of messed up cars, but usually everybody walks away intact. Some drivers, of course, come out of the derby much happier than others.
13
Nov 09
Forget It
Don’t sweat it: If you’ve got a problem, look at it. If you can solve it, do it. If you can’t, forget about it.
Unknown
13
Nov 09
When A 15 Minute Trick Doesn’t Cut It
I’ve been around the block a few times — sometimes even stomping my feet while I make the pass. I know that, in some cases, a few deep breaths, or a glass of water, or a handful of nuts, or a self-imposed time-out just won’t do the trick. Hell, I’ve even chugged the glass of water, grabbed the handful of nuts, marched outside, and come storming back in to start scrubbing the floor. By then, I’ve gone way beyond the 15 minutes, and it’s still not working.
This is when I get serious. This will sound like a contradiction to the 15 Minute Tricks, but it’s necessary to get inside my head for this approach. I force myself to sort through all the tangled thoughts that are swimming around in my brain.
An aside … One day I’m getting my haircut by this gal that I love who runs a beauty shop with her sister. They are chatting about this book that one of them is reading. It has something to do with “Women are Spaghetti and Men are Waffles.” How can you not enjoy an analogy like that? Besides, I absolutely adore spaghetti. I guess the premise is that women have every thought they’ve ever had wrapped around every other thought they’ve ever had. And all those thoughts are standing at the ready to wrap around any new or potential thoughts. Men compartmentalize their thoughts into neat little boxes, like the sections of a waffle. I’ve got to get that book. Anyway, I find that I’ve been enjoying thinking of female brains as plates of spaghetti, and male brains as a bunch of boxes with lids. (I don’t really like waffles. And I admire a guy’s ability to put a topic or thought into a box, put a lid on it, and return to it later. Sometimes they decide they don’t like, never have liked, that thought, and they never go back. I wish I could do that.)
So I’m going with the plate-of-spaghetti analogy. In that plate of spaghetti, or pile of thoughts, there are usually a couple thoughts that seem to be festering among the other relatively innocuous thoughts. The plan is to ferret out the one or two thoughts that seem to be poisoning all the others. The poisonous thoughts are the ones that do me in. I can deal with all the mundane issues. I begin to sort out the thoughts. I’ll see if there’s anything I can do about them, and take some kind of action.
Maybe your laptop is away for repairs. Maybe your laundry is multiplying and making its way down the hall. Maybe toys are littering every corner of the house. Maybe your mom can’t seem to find a way to say anything without hurting your feelings. Maybe the leaves are piling up and waiting for you to go at them with a rake. Maybe the furnace only comes on when you fiddle with the switch on the thermostat. Maybe the person you want to spend the rest of your life with lives 2000 miles away. Maybe you haven’t the slightest clue what to fix for dinner. Continue reading →
12
Nov 09
In Under 15 Minutes
I was irritated this afternoon. I was pissy, bitchy, frustrated and crabby. I felt like I was on the verge of a full-fledged funk. No, it wasn’t my period. No, Mark hadn’t done anything. I was out-of-sorts.
History has taught me that if I don’t get a handle on this crabbiness, it can go deep. I didn’t have the time or patience to walk the hill. I’m trying to be disciplined and not reach for a glass of wine. I needed to do something quick, between helping with homework and cooking dinner.
When I was married to Mark, we had a neighbor who was a lovely lady. I’d see her occasionally and she was always pleasant and encouraging. I always looked harried and tired. She didn’t have a clue about my marriage to a narcissist. She probably assumed that I looked the way I did because I was home all day with two little kids.
She’d often look at me with kind eyes and say, “This, too, shall pass.” Initially, I would find comfort in her words, but later I became annoyed with that expression. I kept wondering, “Just when will this pass? How long do I have to wait? Can’t I speed this up a bit?”
I needed to play a more active role in getting through those episodes. Continue reading →
6
Nov 09
Narcissists Can’t Dance
I got rid of my piano. I gave away the dining room table. We have a tiny house. But now we have some open floor space on the hardwoods in the dining room. It’s going to stay that way. Every morning we listen to music before we head out the door. Will gets to pick on Mondays and Wednesdays. Jenny picks on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I get Fridays. Most of the time, we are brushing our teeth while dancing in the middle of the dining room. It sets a happier tone and helps us choose a better attitude before we really get the day going.
In addition to saying your kind words to yourself each day, you ought to be making music a big part of your life. There are times when it’s comforting to listen to sad stuff. Sad music allows you to wallow in your mess a bit. You shouldn’t do that for long. But sometimes it’s necessary to feel crappy about your situation. It serves the same purpose as venting to a friend who will listen. Music shares your pain. After a couple or three moody songs, then it’s time to pick something fast, fun and in-your-face. Our current favorites are “Rocks in Your Shoes” by Emily West, and “Heaven” by Los Lonely Boys. Will and Jen know all the words by heart. I’m pretty sure they haven’t listened enough to get the meaning. But they love the beat.
When I was a kid we had a Hammond Organ. Wow. It’s great fun when you are a sixth grader comparing notes on what instrument you play. One kid plays the flute. One kid plays the trumpet. The cool kid plays the drums. The even cooler kid plays the guitar. And the nerdy girl plays the organ. I got to take organ lessons. That’s probably when I first learned to be self-deprecating. If you can’t laugh at yourself for taking organ lessons, then you better develop a thicker skin.
My mom had a thing for playing the piano and then the organ. She tells how when she and my dad first divorced, she would tuck my brother in his bed, and me in my bed, fix a stiff drink, put on the headphones, and play the organ — really loud. It was her way of shouting at the world. Her way of expressing all that anger and resentment.
I hate the organ. I have an iPod. Lucky me. The three of us enjoy it in the morning. I enjoy it all by myself at night. I’ve noticed that I’ve gravitated toward the fast, take-on-the world kind of songs; and away from the sad, what-about-me songs. And the dancing is a big part of the music. We all dance like maniacs around here. It’s a great way to have fun with each other. And for me, it’s a great way to relieve stress. Who cares what you look like? It’s about the fun of expressing the music. Continue reading →
4
Nov 09
Housekeeping
My bathroom is dirty. The kitchen floor needs to be mopped. I probably haven’t vacuumed in … I’m not going to tell you how long it has been. I was just brushing my teeth, noticed the spots on the bathroom mirror, the dusty bathroom floor and thought, “Hm, I really ought to get to that.” I finished my teeth, turned off the bathroom light and walked away. I can walk away from things like that now. I get to determine when I handle those chores.
I get to decide what time we eat dinner. If dinner is lousy, I don’t get any dirty looks or snide comments. I choose what I want to watch on T.V. – when we’re done watching the Disney Channel. I hang pictures where I want. I rake the leaves if I want, or not. I don’t make the beds every day. ( I never have understood that custom. You get out of bed, you eat breakfast, get dressed, go to work or school, come home, do homework, eat dinner and go to bed. No one is there all day to notice that the bed is made. What is the point?)
By now you are thinking I am a slob. I’m actually organized and kind of tidy. But my priorities are different now. After work and school, we work on homework, throw the football, make some birthday cards, eat dinner together, play cribbage or CandyLand. We talk about our day. We commiserate and plan and laugh and drive each other crazy. We enjoy each other and appreciate being together.
And, yes, we do clean the house together. The kids are wonderful about helping because there isn’t the pressure to make everything perfect. Usually we tackle things when I know someone is about to stop by. Then I say, “Okay you guys, go into the livingroom, and if there’s any of your stuff in there, find where it lives.” Then Jenny will usually say, “Are we doing that thing where we pretend like we aren’t messy?”
If I had to suggest a housekeeping tip, it would be this: Make the decision to keep a different house, not the narcissist’s house.
1
Nov 09
What We Discard
The things people discard tell more about them than the things they keep.
Hilda Lawrence
