1967
On the frosty morning, preceding
The evening when the leopard lady will be seen lounging
On our bed, I'm half asleep when Will bends over
To kiss me goodbye, and as the howling of the wind
Catches my attention, I arise from our bed and
Lift the window shade, and what I see makes
My sunny spirit sink in dismay, because
Everything I see is as white as white can be ...
In less time than it takes to blink an eye
I know that this blizzard of mega proportions
Is sure to give me a heck of a time as soon as
My daily commute to my suburban school begins
And sure enough, within the hour
I find myself facing a headwind so strong as to
Make walking forward quite an effort while
A deluge of swirling snow creates
A whiteout so blinding that my eyes beg
To squeeze tightly shut and in addition to that
My buns fear freezing to death, because I'm dressed in
The latest fashion (miniskirt, pantyhose, mini coat) suggesting
My body has every right to question the state of my sanity
Thank goodness, I'm wearing a hat, leather gloves and boots!
One day when I'm a mother of three, who enjoys
Down hill skiing with my family, I'll have the good sense to
Protect my body from the elements by stuffing myself into
Long underwear, wool sockslol ong-sleeved, turtle neck tee shirts
Heavy sweaters, ski pants, insulated down jackets, hats with ear flaps
Mufflers, silk gloves inside insulated mittens and goggles
In fact, if you get so much of a glimpse of my nose
That's all you'll see of me as I cruise down the mountain, listening to
The Supremes, which encourages my body to
Maintain its inner balance and natural sense of rhythm when
The run grows too steep and the moguls loom
Almost as tall me; however, on this day, when
I'm a young, twenty three year old teacher, you can see me
Shivering at the bus stop after having pushed myself
Forward against blasts of icy wind, which had stung
Eyes until tears froze on my cheeks as I'd trudged my way through this
Mega snow storm in my valiant attempt
To get from the city to the suburbs in hopes of
Standing before my fifth grade class in a timely fashion ...
And as whipping gusts of wind assault my face, mixing
Snow with frozen tears that redden my cheeks
I can't help but wonder if my body will be
A solid block of ice, sliding into my classroom, because
The friggin bus is so late, causing my frustration to
Stand here, shivering and stomping my boots, forever, and
Once the bus finally comes and opens its door
I ascend the steps only to find that my spirit has
Reason to sink another notch, because
Sanding room only offers me a view, simulating
A fully packed tin of sardines, suggesting
No place for my frozen self to sit down, so squeezing myself
Into whatever little standing space is left, I hold onto
The vertical bar until we reach my stop, where, upon
Leaving the sardine can behind
I stiffly climb a flight of stairs only to find myself
Sandwiched inside a fully packed train that will deliver me to
Another bus stop where I'll wait outside, stomping
My feet in hopes of keeping my bare legs from
Freezing solidly together, and after waiting, seemingly forever, for
Another busload of tightly packed sardines, I'll squeeze into that tin
And stand until we reach the stop that lets me off one block
South of my school, which I enter two hours late only
To find that many of the teachers had not shown up, at all ...
And as there's no sign of this snow/sleet/wind storm
Letting up any time soon, right after lunch
The PA system informs us that this afternoon
Has been cancelled in hopes of allowing
The staff to make our way home before dark, which
Descends early, during winter gloom, and though
Pandemonium busts loose throughout my class, my
Attitude, upon hearing this announcement, can't help but
Bristle as thoughts of trekking back through
Gusts of icy wind, blasting swirling snow into
My eyes, flash through my mind, and imagining myself
Freezing into human icicle, at bus stops, again, my
Optimistic nature drops to zero on the spot until
My awareness of jubilance, erupting all around me
Reignites my spirit's exuberance, which
Causes my negative attitude to experience
A melt down, creating a contradictive smile as
The kid in me watches my class of ten year olds
Whooping it up with bursts of pure delight, and while
They're pulling on hats, coats, mittens and galoshes
I imagine thoughts of freedom dancing as sweetly as
Sugar plums through each of their heads ... I mean
Their moms, who, no doubt, dress as fashionably as
Is true of me, make good use of their noodles to
Ensure that their precious offspring are
Dressed warmly from head to toe ...
So go figure the contradictions of human nature, right?
So anyway, it's plain to see that
Thoughts of this storm (which makes
Chills run down my spine) offer
A room full of jubilant kids the key to unlocking
A treasure chest overflowing with snow in which to
Frolic through the rest of the afternoon, which
Would otherwise have been spent
Drumming young minds to absorb facts that
These kids have no clue will be of
Great use to them once they're
As old as twenty-three year old me
(And thus, can we clearly see how thoughts, which
Teen-aged guys fancied as great fun, would flood
My subconscious with tormented memories of amnesiac misery ...)
Ultimately, as the last of my high spirited, happily liberated
Fully-insulated-against-the-cold munchkins file out of
Our classroom door, I feel grateful for my freedom, too ...
I mean, knowing how long it took for me to arrive at school
Common sense suggests fortifying my spirit to ready itself to
Battle the icy elements for hours, again ...
Friday, July 31, 2015
Thursday, July 30, 2015
1371 INTRO TO MY INEXPERIENCED ADVENTURES INTO PARENTING Part 6
2015
Often times when anxiety spikes, we think to know why we fear what we fear or feel guilty about choosing to attend to personal needs, which offer the existential nature of our spirits reason to thrive, when intuitive thought, which offers insight into deeper truth, suggests that our conscious minds may have no clue what our primary (subconsciously stored) stressors actually are, and that's most especially true when an experience, which feels threatening to your personal sense of safety, today, stimulates undeserved guilt, left raw and unresolved during childhood, to filter through your wall of denial, signaling your survival instinct (fight, flee or freeze) to throw your adrenal glands into overdrive until an over production of adrenalin creates a visceral reaction that shudders, tensely, throughout your body, and thus does undeserved guilt, which remains in an unprocessed state, create differing levels of PTSD, which interfere with our conscious mind's sense of clarity during crucial moments when strategic decision-making proves necessary, as had proved true of me before I was diagnosed with PTSD. WHEW! I wonder if the intricate length of that intuitive run-on sentence might be recorded in this year's Guinness Book Of World Records
Thankfully, upon reflection during sessions of EMDR therapy, my thirst for knowledge continues to motivate my intelligence to gain insight into identifying situations that may trigger an episode of PTSD, because that which I can recognize, I can control.
Thankfully, upon reflection during sessions of EMDR therapy, my thirst for knowledge continues to motivate my intelligence to gain insight into identifying situations that may trigger an episode of PTSD, because that which I can recognize, I can control.
After my heart experienced ventricular dysfunction, I flew home and engaged in sessions of EMDR in hopes of improving my chances of recognizing an eruption of PTSD before my adrenal glands produce so much adrenalin as to make my heart react as if yesteryear's trauma has arisen from the dead to taunt me with a mind-daunting sense of undeserved guilt, today.
Thank goodness, we have trained professionals as well as a wealth of technical information at our finger tips, via the internet, today. And now, let's trek back to watching the leopard on the bed, during 'the big snow' of 1967 ...
Thank goodness, we have trained professionals as well as a wealth of technical information at our finger tips, via the internet, today. And now, let's trek back to watching the leopard on the bed, during 'the big snow' of 1967 ...
Wednesday, July 29, 2015
1370 INTRO TO MY INEXPERIENCED ADVENTURES INTO PARENTING Part 5
2015
I chose to withdraw yesterday's post in favor of
Publishing it, anew, today, for this reason:
The more I wrote, the more complicated and
Convoluted my train of thought became
And so, here's what I did:
I'd write for a while before taking a break to
Clear my mind, and then, upon reading that which
My stream of consciousness poured out I'd edit until
Insight into clarity of thought was mine, and hopefully
Resultant of my labor, the string of insights that you'll find
Lined up like ducks in a row, below
I chose to withdraw yesterday's post in favor of
Publishing it, anew, today, for this reason:
The more I wrote, the more complicated and
Convoluted my train of thought became
And so, here's what I did:
I'd write for a while before taking a break to
Clear my mind, and then, upon reading that which
My stream of consciousness poured out I'd edit until
Insight into clarity of thought was mine, and hopefully
Resultant of my labor, the string of insights that you'll find
Lined up like ducks in a row, below
Will nourish your sense of clarity, as well
So, okay ... Here we go ...
In case you'd like to ask:
Annie, if you perceived of yourself as an unattractive
Young woman then why did you think
Your phone rang, filling your dance card on
Weekend evenings, during your teens?
I'd reply: Though my self protective habit had been to
Shy away each time a guy drew too close for comfort
I'd figured they'd enjoyed my company, for this reason:
As long as my body felt chastely encased within
The narrow framework of my comfort zone
I was lots of fun ...
And since my self-protective wall of denial offered my
Conscious awareness not so much as
So, okay ... Here we go ...
In case you'd like to ask:
Annie, if you perceived of yourself as an unattractive
Young woman then why did you think
Your phone rang, filling your dance card on
Weekend evenings, during your teens?
I'd reply: Though my self protective habit had been to
Shy away each time a guy drew too close for comfort
I'd figured they'd enjoyed my company, for this reason:
As long as my body felt chastely encased within
The narrow framework of my comfort zone
I was lots of fun ...
And since my self-protective wall of denial offered my
Conscious awareness not so much as
A knot hole through which
To get a glimpse of the truth, the whole truth and
Nothing but the truth, concerning thoughts that roamed
Naturally beneath the crew cuts that covered whatever
Those clean cut boys had in mind until
To get a glimpse of the truth, the whole truth and
Nothing but the truth, concerning thoughts that roamed
Naturally beneath the crew cuts that covered whatever
Those clean cut boys had in mind until
We'd parked in front of my house after a date, and
They'd tried to pull me close
Thank goodness, denial blocked my subconscious fear of reality from
Thank goodness, denial blocked my subconscious fear of reality from
Looming so large as to cause me to
Leap out of their cars and run into
My house, feeling so anxious as to
Lock myself into a closet and throw away the key
You see, it's denial's job to twist the bare truth into
Something it's not, creating
Leap out of their cars and run into
My house, feeling so anxious as to
Lock myself into a closet and throw away the key
You see, it's denial's job to twist the bare truth into
Something it's not, creating
A mishmash of foggy confusion of the
The conscious mind's sense of clarity as soon as
The conscious mind's sense of clarity as soon as
Subconscious fear of a haunting trauma shoots through
Your brain or mine faster than a speeding bullet, suggesting
That the split-second emergence of certain memories, which
Do not have time to process through our conscious minds
Can cause our bodies to experience a visceral reaction to
Whatever had stimulated yesteryear's unresolved fear to
Flash through the instinctive part of the brain, causing
The rawness of that flash frozen experience to suffer
A momentary melt down, which is another way to
Describe the emergence of an episode of PTSD, which
Stimulates the adrenal glands to release
An over-abundance of adrenalin, which creates
So much muscle tension as to translate into spikes of
Anxiety, concerning fear of danger
(Fight or flight or freeze) shuddering
Through your body to the same degree as
Had been true when the original trauma had
Shattered your sense of
Personal safety and self worth into
So many scattered pieces that you couldn't
Think straight to save your life ... And the
Younger you were when that bomb
Exploded your personal sense of safety to bits
The more difficult it will be to reprogram
Your adult defense system to detour away from
Experiencing mind blowing episodes of PTSD
When PTSD goes undiagnosed and unhealed
Any situation that stimulates the original experience to
Shoot through subconscious memory will
Feel as terrifing, shocking and stupefying as
When the trauma (which denial
May have encased in amnesia) had first shattered your
Sense of personal safety and self worth, and since
Reality can be so cruel as to expose
A child's natural sense of vulnerability to
Emotional bombs, exploding utterly
Unexpectedly from within the adults, who profess to love and
Your brain or mine faster than a speeding bullet, suggesting
That the split-second emergence of certain memories, which
Do not have time to process through our conscious minds
Can cause our bodies to experience a visceral reaction to
Whatever had stimulated yesteryear's unresolved fear to
Flash through the instinctive part of the brain, causing
The rawness of that flash frozen experience to suffer
A momentary melt down, which is another way to
Describe the emergence of an episode of PTSD, which
Stimulates the adrenal glands to release
An over-abundance of adrenalin, which creates
So much muscle tension as to translate into spikes of
Anxiety, concerning fear of danger
(Fight or flight or freeze) shuddering
Through your body to the same degree as
Had been true when the original trauma had
Shattered your sense of
Personal safety and self worth into
So many scattered pieces that you couldn't
Think straight to save your life ... And the
Younger you were when that bomb
Exploded your personal sense of safety to bits
The more difficult it will be to reprogram
Your adult defense system to detour away from
Experiencing mind blowing episodes of PTSD
When PTSD goes undiagnosed and unhealed
Any situation that stimulates the original experience to
Shoot through subconscious memory will
Feel as terrifing, shocking and stupefying as
When the trauma (which denial
May have encased in amnesia) had first shattered your
Sense of personal safety and self worth, and since
Reality can be so cruel as to expose
A child's natural sense of vulnerability to
Emotional bombs, exploding utterly
Unexpectedly from within the adults, who profess to love and
Protect us from harm, it's not uncommon for
A vulnerable young mind to feel
As scarred with shell shock in need of
Professional healing as a soldier, suffering from
PTSD in the aftermath of his or her first taste of
Warfare on the front lines, and just as
A soldier's mind can be severely injured
Thus does every brain sustain wounds when
Profoundly confounding situations, which
Defy understanding, take place, not
Just during youth but after
We've grown up with reason to
Perceive of ourselves as intelligent
Strong-minded, capable, solution-seeking
Compassionate adults, who having come to
Conceive of ourselves as 'fixers', may forget to
Remember that both sides of human nature
Exist within us all, and though we may
See ourselves as courageous high principled winners for
Good reason, guess what resides within the fearful side of
Every human brain? A wall of denial, behind which
Looms undeserved guilt, which unrelieved, will
Haunt our sense of well being, indefinitely
And once your think tank has taken
The time necessary to fully swallow that last
Morsel of food for thought, please consider
Chewing on this insight, as well:
Since different experiences offer reason for
Young minds to feel traumatized to differing degrees
One person's level of PTSD
May have reason to exceed that of another, suggestive
Of this fact:
Not one of us leaves childhood emotionally unscathed
At this point, you might like to ask:
Annie, if certain early experiences caused you to
A vulnerable young mind to feel
As scarred with shell shock in need of
Professional healing as a soldier, suffering from
PTSD in the aftermath of his or her first taste of
Warfare on the front lines, and just as
A soldier's mind can be severely injured
Thus does every brain sustain wounds when
Profoundly confounding situations, which
Defy understanding, take place, not
Just during youth but after
We've grown up with reason to
Perceive of ourselves as intelligent
Strong-minded, capable, solution-seeking
Compassionate adults, who having come to
Conceive of ourselves as 'fixers', may forget to
Remember that both sides of human nature
Exist within us all, and though we may
See ourselves as courageous high principled winners for
Good reason, guess what resides within the fearful side of
Every human brain? A wall of denial, behind which
Looms undeserved guilt, which unrelieved, will
Haunt our sense of well being, indefinitely
And once your think tank has taken
The time necessary to fully swallow that last
Morsel of food for thought, please consider
Chewing on this insight, as well:
Since different experiences offer reason for
Young minds to feel traumatized to differing degrees
One person's level of PTSD
May have reason to exceed that of another, suggestive
Of this fact:
Not one of us leaves childhood emotionally unscathed
At this point, you might like to ask:
Annie, if certain early experiences caused you to
Feel unattractive and
Other experiences caused you to fear sexuality, resulting
In doubling your psyche's ulnerability to PTSD
Then what possessed you to
Ruby your lips, splash on fragrance and pour
Your body into a curve revealing garment, upon which
'Wild Animal' had been imprinted from neck to toe?
I'd reply: Years ago, I had no clue that confusion
In doubling your psyche's ulnerability to PTSD
Then what possessed you to
Ruby your lips, splash on fragrance and pour
Your body into a curve revealing garment, upon which
'Wild Animal' had been imprinted from neck to toe?
I'd reply: Years ago, I had no clue that confusion
Based in PTSD, played tricks on my conscious mind, in fact
That awareness was not mine until many sessions of
That awareness was not mine until many sessions of
EMDR freed my intelligence to
Gain insight into contradictions that continue to
Interfere with my sense of clarity, today
On the other hand, my thirst for insight has
Gain insight into contradictions that continue to
Interfere with my sense of clarity, today
On the other hand, my thirst for insight has
Empowered my sense of hindsight to grow so objective as to
Empower my thank tank to flesh in details with which I can
Answer 'your' question concerning contradictions that
Confounded my sense of clarity when I was young:
I've come to believe that my defense system
(Which had reason to flash freeze my wild thing inside
A subconscious pocket of my mind after 'she'd'
Overdosed on traumatized fear)
Was waiting for intuition to recognize the 'perfect' moment to
Empower my thank tank to flesh in details with which I can
Answer 'your' question concerning contradictions that
Confounded my sense of clarity when I was young:
I've come to believe that my defense system
(Which had reason to flash freeze my wild thing inside
A subconscious pocket of my mind after 'she'd'
Overdosed on traumatized fear)
Was waiting for intuition to recognize the 'perfect' moment to
Signal my defense system to let down
It's guard and allow my comotosed libido to
Reawaken, experience a melt down, and feel utterly free to
Feed its natural hungers to satiation, at last ... though
Never once had any part of today's reflective
Train of thought penetrated my wall of denial when I was a girl
I guess we'd be on the right track to surmise that
During my youth, my sixth sense (which was
Empowered to see that
My waist proved much smaller than that which
Appeared above and below) instructed
My creativity to extenuate the positive, and the fact that
I'd read novels and watched seductive scenes in
Countless movies filled my intelligence with
Ideas that filtered into my imagination whenever
My instinctive need for attention in the bedroom
Loomed so large as to defy my adherence to
The proprieties of modesty ... I mean ...
I'd already run the gamut of nightgowns, colored
Virginal pink, baby blue or femme fatale black, all of
Which proved as sheer as gossamer threads ... and
As creativity had seen me pulling on nothing more than
A professional football jersey, sporting
The number of Will's all-time favorite player on
My back before joining my husband in bed ... I
Guess we could say that each time intuition
Freed a stream of consciousness to do my
Problem solving, my brain, injured or not
Functioned like a well balanced whole
Shortly after we both said 'I do'
My intuitive powers 'knew' something was wrong, because
I'd watched Dad's look of love shine forth, like
A moonbeam, glowing directly at Mom, and
All she had to do to attract her husband's attention was to
Walk into a room ... As that expectation had
Not proved true for me once the chase had been won
My fear of unattractiveness shot through my mind
Triggering PTSD, which, being undiagnosed, had
Reason to haunt my subconscious with taunts from the past ...
And as denial blinded my awareness from recognizing
That my libido was anesthetized in a flash frozen state
Guess who had no clue that I'd failed to offer my husband
Any sign of female heat? And as long as I remained
Blind to my frozen sexuality, denial blocked my
Conscious mind from any thought other than this one:
My husband will one day come to his senses, wonder
Why he married me and leave me, as
Had been true of every guy
I'd dated and cared for, and then I'll be all alone ...
(Just as I'd felt alone and worthless at
The age of three when my
Baby sister died, and my safe little corner of
The world shattered so suddenly as to blow my
Sense of clarity to kingdom come
And ... I'd had no clue that, from that time on, I'd been
Holding my breath in wait for the other shoe to drop until
About five years ago, when an astute therapist
Diagnosed me with PTSD, and not until then
Did I begin to dive so deep
Into my psyche as to begin to know
My contradictive traits in depth ... ...
Though my brain had not absorbed knowledge of
John Wooden, who'd coached
UCLA's basketball team to win nine consecutive
NCAA championships, until today ... my mind will
Store his words in my memory bank, from now on:
Today's reflections suggest that, as a bride,
I'd brainstormed my way toward
Costuming in hopes of winning back the
Appreciative attention that had buoyed my spirit and
Made me feel safely loved when
Will had been my boyfriend, eager to
Take me in his arms and lead the dance in
Such a pleasing way as to entice me to
Freely choose to follow him down
The primrose path, where I'd happily
Accepted his proposal, which saw me
Land in our third floor, walk up apartment where
Much to my dismay, my husband's time was
Divided between two mistresses, whom
I'd perceived as being much more intriguing to
Will than my creative costuming proved to be ... and
If you ask what stopped me from developing
The courage necessary to
Voice my jealousy of Surgery and Sports ... Well
My brain had already developed the pattern of
Suppressing and stuffing any of my
Unruly emotions into a container that sat
Right next to the wall of denial, where
My repressed fear of abandonment had
Roped my decision-making process into making
Choices that served the needs of others while
Habitually ignoring my own, and as that
Behavioral pattern began to carve a deep channel into
My psche when Janet died and three year old
Winsome little me couldn't win a smile from
Loved ones (whose minds remained naturally
Preoccupied, distraught and utterly overwhelmed with
Confusion and grief for an extended period of time) no matter
How consistently and creatively I'd tried but failed to
Win back their attention, I cowered in the shadows of
Anxious despair until the birth of another
Dark haired, baby sister, whose
Blessed presence re-ignited my loved ones' smiles, which
I'd sadly missed and craved, coaxed back the sun, sooo ...
Once I'd felt lovingly embraced within the warm, safe haven of
Familial safety, again, my brand new subconscious fear of
Abandonment 'vowed' to do
Whatever seemed necessary to keep every
Spirit in our boat afloat ... suggesting that
Once my husband's exhausted mind became
Compulsively preoccupied with serving the needs of
His patients, my deeply entrenched
Abandonment issues called forth a summit conference between
My deeply repressed but intuitive Wild Thing, and my Fixer
And together, they out-voted my belief that
I was too unattractive to arouse Will's sexual ardor, two to one ...
And now that this detailed trip down memory lane has
Clarified why my contradictive choice to adorn my curves with
Leopard skin had actually made sense, I'll end by saying:
Whew! My brain is all tuckered out, because finding words to
Express insight into the complexity of
Today's complicated train of thought did not come easy!
It's guard and allow my comotosed libido to
Reawaken, experience a melt down, and feel utterly free to
Feed its natural hungers to satiation, at last ... though
Never once had any part of today's reflective
Train of thought penetrated my wall of denial when I was a girl
I guess we'd be on the right track to surmise that
During my youth, my sixth sense (which was
Empowered to see that
My waist proved much smaller than that which
Appeared above and below) instructed
My creativity to extenuate the positive, and the fact that
I'd read novels and watched seductive scenes in
Countless movies filled my intelligence with
Ideas that filtered into my imagination whenever
My instinctive need for attention in the bedroom
Loomed so large as to defy my adherence to
The proprieties of modesty ... I mean ...
I'd already run the gamut of nightgowns, colored
Virginal pink, baby blue or femme fatale black, all of
Which proved as sheer as gossamer threads ... and
As creativity had seen me pulling on nothing more than
A professional football jersey, sporting
The number of Will's all-time favorite player on
My back before joining my husband in bed ... I
Guess we could say that each time intuition
Freed a stream of consciousness to do my
Problem solving, my brain, injured or not
Functioned like a well balanced whole
Shortly after we both said 'I do'
My intuitive powers 'knew' something was wrong, because
I'd watched Dad's look of love shine forth, like
A moonbeam, glowing directly at Mom, and
All she had to do to attract her husband's attention was to
Walk into a room ... As that expectation had
Not proved true for me once the chase had been won
My fear of unattractiveness shot through my mind
Triggering PTSD, which, being undiagnosed, had
Reason to haunt my subconscious with taunts from the past ...
And as denial blinded my awareness from recognizing
That my libido was anesthetized in a flash frozen state
Guess who had no clue that I'd failed to offer my husband
Any sign of female heat? And as long as I remained
Blind to my frozen sexuality, denial blocked my
Conscious mind from any thought other than this one:
My husband will one day come to his senses, wonder
Why he married me and leave me, as
Had been true of every guy
I'd dated and cared for, and then I'll be all alone ...
(Just as I'd felt alone and worthless at
The age of three when my
Baby sister died, and my safe little corner of
The world shattered so suddenly as to blow my
Sense of clarity to kingdom come
And ... I'd had no clue that, from that time on, I'd been
Holding my breath in wait for the other shoe to drop until
About five years ago, when an astute therapist
Diagnosed me with PTSD, and not until then
Did I begin to dive so deep
Into my psyche as to begin to know
My contradictive traits in depth ... ...
Though my brain had not absorbed knowledge of
John Wooden, who'd coached
UCLA's basketball team to win nine consecutive
NCAA championships, until today ... my mind will
Store his words in my memory bank, from now on:
"Failing to prepare is preparing to fail" ...
Thank goodness, I was raised by two parents who
Stood up each time life knocked one or the other down
Thank goodness I have reason to believe myself
Made of the same strong stuff, suggesting that
Failing to achieve a heartfelt goal was not something that
My spirit could accept with an attitude of
Complacency when I was young, and as that
Strong willed trait proves true of me, today, I
Seek insight into the intricate ways that
Episodes of PTSD may continue to
Challenge my intelligence to seek insight into
Clarity, concerning the covert ways that
Undeserved guilt, which, remains buried within
My subconscious, may be undermining my
Think tank's ability to brainstorm toward
A workable solution when
Complex problem solving proves necessary, today ...
For example:
In the past, my solutions took care of everyone else's needs
Presently, my planning strategies have
Changed for the better in this manner:
When considering needs, I remember to
Include my own for this reason:
Balance in all things suggests
Lots of leeway exists between selfless and selfish
And with insight as my guide, I've
Come to see that there are times when
The needs of my loved ones do not necessarily
Match my own, and when that proves true
Meeting my needs, within reason and
With discretion, does not make
A thoughtless, selfish person of me
I've also come to see that denial's aura of black magic
Which initially empowers us to keep sane during
A traumatizing experience, keeps us
In the dark about emotional scarring that
Blocks our sense of clarity when
Something that has scared us half to death
Remains subconsciously unhealed
And since subconscious scarring shows
No visual sign of that haunting experience on
The surface, We fail to see how
Yesteryear's unhealed trauma remains
Empowered to affect our
Decision-making process, negatively, today ...
On the other hand, each time my
Power of intuition speaks clearly to me
My strength of my spirit refuses to allow denial or
Undeserved guilt to cause me to fail to
Achieve a heartfelt goal, today
As a young woman, I had no clue that
My subconscious fear of carnal knowledge had limited
My creativity to costuming until decades later when
I took a class and encountered an
Unexpected experience that
Opened my eyes to this fact:
Under the right circumstances a frozen libido, such as
Mine had been, proves vulnerable to experiencing
A melt down in record breaking time ...
And in the aftermath of that experience ... Which
Surprised no one as much as me
The pleaser in me began to transform into
A stranger to my former self without benefit of
Undergoing metamorphosis within the safety of
The caterpiller's cocoon ... However rather than
Transforming into a social butterfly
I absorbed reason to grow ever more introspective and
Quietly reflective to the point of
Questing toward strings of insight, concerning
Peace of mind, as never before
Thank goodness, I was raised by two parents who
Stood up each time life knocked one or the other down
Thank goodness I have reason to believe myself
Made of the same strong stuff, suggesting that
Failing to achieve a heartfelt goal was not something that
My spirit could accept with an attitude of
Complacency when I was young, and as that
Strong willed trait proves true of me, today, I
Seek insight into the intricate ways that
Episodes of PTSD may continue to
Challenge my intelligence to seek insight into
Clarity, concerning the covert ways that
Undeserved guilt, which, remains buried within
My subconscious, may be undermining my
Think tank's ability to brainstorm toward
A workable solution when
Complex problem solving proves necessary, today ...
For example:
In the past, my solutions took care of everyone else's needs
Presently, my planning strategies have
Changed for the better in this manner:
When considering needs, I remember to
Include my own for this reason:
Balance in all things suggests
Lots of leeway exists between selfless and selfish
And with insight as my guide, I've
Come to see that there are times when
The needs of my loved ones do not necessarily
Match my own, and when that proves true
Meeting my needs, within reason and
With discretion, does not make
A thoughtless, selfish person of me
I've also come to see that denial's aura of black magic
Which initially empowers us to keep sane during
A traumatizing experience, keeps us
In the dark about emotional scarring that
Blocks our sense of clarity when
Something that has scared us half to death
Remains subconsciously unhealed
And since subconscious scarring shows
No visual sign of that haunting experience on
The surface, We fail to see how
Yesteryear's unhealed trauma remains
Empowered to affect our
Decision-making process, negatively, today ...
On the other hand, each time my
Power of intuition speaks clearly to me
My strength of my spirit refuses to allow denial or
Undeserved guilt to cause me to fail to
Achieve a heartfelt goal, today
As a young woman, I had no clue that
My subconscious fear of carnal knowledge had limited
My creativity to costuming until decades later when
I took a class and encountered an
Unexpected experience that
Opened my eyes to this fact:
Under the right circumstances a frozen libido, such as
Mine had been, proves vulnerable to experiencing
A melt down in record breaking time ...
And in the aftermath of that experience ... Which
Surprised no one as much as me
The pleaser in me began to transform into
A stranger to my former self without benefit of
Undergoing metamorphosis within the safety of
The caterpiller's cocoon ... However rather than
Transforming into a social butterfly
I absorbed reason to grow ever more introspective and
Quietly reflective to the point of
Questing toward strings of insight, concerning
Peace of mind, as never before
Today's reflections suggest that, as a bride,
I'd brainstormed my way toward
Costuming in hopes of winning back the
Appreciative attention that had buoyed my spirit and
Made me feel safely loved when
Will had been my boyfriend, eager to
Take me in his arms and lead the dance in
Such a pleasing way as to entice me to
Freely choose to follow him down
The primrose path, where I'd happily
Accepted his proposal, which saw me
Land in our third floor, walk up apartment where
Much to my dismay, my husband's time was
Divided between two mistresses, whom
I'd perceived as being much more intriguing to
Will than my creative costuming proved to be ... and
If you ask what stopped me from developing
The courage necessary to
Voice my jealousy of Surgery and Sports ... Well
My brain had already developed the pattern of
Suppressing and stuffing any of my
Unruly emotions into a container that sat
Right next to the wall of denial, where
My repressed fear of abandonment had
Roped my decision-making process into making
Choices that served the needs of others while
Habitually ignoring my own, and as that
Behavioral pattern began to carve a deep channel into
My psche when Janet died and three year old
Winsome little me couldn't win a smile from
Loved ones (whose minds remained naturally
Preoccupied, distraught and utterly overwhelmed with
Confusion and grief for an extended period of time) no matter
How consistently and creatively I'd tried but failed to
Win back their attention, I cowered in the shadows of
Anxious despair until the birth of another
Dark haired, baby sister, whose
Blessed presence re-ignited my loved ones' smiles, which
I'd sadly missed and craved, coaxed back the sun, sooo ...
Once I'd felt lovingly embraced within the warm, safe haven of
Familial safety, again, my brand new subconscious fear of
Abandonment 'vowed' to do
Whatever seemed necessary to keep every
Spirit in our boat afloat ... suggesting that
Once my husband's exhausted mind became
Compulsively preoccupied with serving the needs of
His patients, my deeply entrenched
Abandonment issues called forth a summit conference between
My deeply repressed but intuitive Wild Thing, and my Fixer
And together, they out-voted my belief that
I was too unattractive to arouse Will's sexual ardor, two to one ...
And now that this detailed trip down memory lane has
Clarified why my contradictive choice to adorn my curves with
Leopard skin had actually made sense, I'll end by saying:
Whew! My brain is all tuckered out, because finding words to
Express insight into the complexity of
Today's complicated train of thought did not come easy!
Monday, July 27, 2015
1369 INTRO TO MY INEXPERIENCED ADVENTURES INTO PARENTING Part 4
Let's back track from 1968 to 1967 ...
His name is Jack
He's our next door neighbor
In fact, Jack lives so close that
Our front doors can steal a furtive kiss, because
Our apartments share a common wall
It is winter
A heavy snowfall, beginning at daybreak
Sweeps down throughout the day until
A blinding blizzard swirls
Our mega metropolis into such a state of
Paralysis as to have lasted for many days until
The warmth of the sun, peeking out from behind
The cloudy Midwestern sky, is empowered to
Begin to melt that astounding accumulation of
Snow, which has piled so high as to
Cause snow plows to work 24/7 to dig city out of
The dysfunctional mess that offered my fifth grade class
Reason to jump for joy at the fact that
My suburban school had been closed for two weeks!
Anyway, while this gargantuan accumulation
Of snow is melting all around us
Will and I have no reason to believe
That the rooftop of our apartment complex has
Sprung a leak just overhead, because
Our kitchen ceiling, which is situated just beneath the roof
Offers nary a clue of giving way for this reason:
Somehow, the flow of melting snow has channeled
It's way into the narrow space that separates
The exterior red brick of the apartment complex from
Our plastered kitchen wall ... And
If you ask how I know that to be true, I'd reply:
One night, several weeks after
That gargantuan blizzard died down, leaving
Our city to look like a glistening scene right out of Frozen
A noise as fearsome as an avalanche
Jars my intincts awake in such a startled state as
To sit straight up in bed and shake Will, who
Has been known to sleep as though dead to the world, and
While I can be seen leaping out of bed, Will
Who is not easily awakened, manages to muster enough
Awareness to lift his head and mutter—What's wrong, Annie?
OMG! Will! I can't believe you slept through that!
Something just happened, and we'd better find out what it is ...
Since neither of us has a clue as to what we might find
Will moves cautiously from our bedroom
Through our darkened living room and dining room, looking
This way and that while
Eyes open wide, I trail anxiously close behind ... Until
We can be seen standing
In the doorway to the kitchen where
Will's hand reaches in to
Flick the wall switch that turns on the over head light, and
Our jaws drop to see
The avalanche of soggy plaster, piled high on the stove, before
Our eyes move downward to spy the excess of sodden walling
Splattered across the small expanse of linoleum, which covers
Our tiny kitchen's hard wood floor—
And if the bad news points to the fact that
The porous state of one plastered kitchen wall
Has become so soggy, after absorbing
The weight of freshly melted snow, as to have
Fallen, enmass, straight down to the floor, thus
Exposing the exterior red brick of
Our apartment complex to the astonishment of
Our naked eyes then here's good news to follow the bad:
Many days before the sun came out to melt the ton of snow that
Had paralyzed the mega metropolis, which we call home
Will and I had made the best of this worst blizzard that
He and I had ever experienced by
Transforming a casual acquaintanceship with
Our neighbors—Jack and Jill—into a friendship that
Will have had reason to grow oh so close, over the next year, and
Once Jack's animal instinct closes in on the leopard's intentions ...
His name is Jack
He's our next door neighbor
In fact, Jack lives so close that
Our front doors can steal a furtive kiss, because
Our apartments share a common wall
It is winter
A heavy snowfall, beginning at daybreak
Sweeps down throughout the day until
A blinding blizzard swirls
Our mega metropolis into such a state of
Paralysis as to have lasted for many days until
The warmth of the sun, peeking out from behind
The cloudy Midwestern sky, is empowered to
Begin to melt that astounding accumulation of
Snow, which has piled so high as to
Cause snow plows to work 24/7 to dig city out of
The dysfunctional mess that offered my fifth grade class
Reason to jump for joy at the fact that
My suburban school had been closed for two weeks!
Anyway, while this gargantuan accumulation
Of snow is melting all around us
Will and I have no reason to believe
That the rooftop of our apartment complex has
Sprung a leak just overhead, because
Our kitchen ceiling, which is situated just beneath the roof
Offers nary a clue of giving way for this reason:
Somehow, the flow of melting snow has channeled
It's way into the narrow space that separates
The exterior red brick of the apartment complex from
Our plastered kitchen wall ... And
If you ask how I know that to be true, I'd reply:
One night, several weeks after
That gargantuan blizzard died down, leaving
Our city to look like a glistening scene right out of Frozen
A noise as fearsome as an avalanche
Jars my intincts awake in such a startled state as
To sit straight up in bed and shake Will, who
Has been known to sleep as though dead to the world, and
While I can be seen leaping out of bed, Will
Who is not easily awakened, manages to muster enough
Awareness to lift his head and mutter—What's wrong, Annie?
OMG! Will! I can't believe you slept through that!
Something just happened, and we'd better find out what it is ...
Since neither of us has a clue as to what we might find
Will moves cautiously from our bedroom
Through our darkened living room and dining room, looking
This way and that while
Eyes open wide, I trail anxiously close behind ... Until
We can be seen standing
In the doorway to the kitchen where
Will's hand reaches in to
Flick the wall switch that turns on the over head light, and
Our jaws drop to see
The avalanche of soggy plaster, piled high on the stove, before
Our eyes move downward to spy the excess of sodden walling
Splattered across the small expanse of linoleum, which covers
Our tiny kitchen's hard wood floor—
And if the bad news points to the fact that
The porous state of one plastered kitchen wall
Has become so soggy, after absorbing
The weight of freshly melted snow, as to have
Fallen, enmass, straight down to the floor, thus
Exposing the exterior red brick of
Our apartment complex to the astonishment of
Our naked eyes then here's good news to follow the bad:
Many days before the sun came out to melt the ton of snow that
Had paralyzed the mega metropolis, which we call home
Will and I had made the best of this worst blizzard that
He and I had ever experienced by
Transforming a casual acquaintanceship with
Our neighbors—Jack and Jill—into a friendship that
Will have had reason to grow oh so close, over the next year, and
Once Jack's animal instinct closes in on the leopard's intentions ...
Sunday, July 26, 2015
1368 INTRO TO MY INEXPERIENCED ADVENTURES INTO PARENTING Part 3
1968
It's not as if Will had never seen me in leopard skinned lounging apparel until that night when readiness for conception was ripe ... it's just that our habit had been to enjoy dinner before dessert.
As to that leopard skin get-up, which clung to my curves, I chose to zip it up whenever the hospital kept Will so preoccupied, over an extended period of time, that I felt lonely whether he was there, caring for patients or here, at home, head buried in textbooks.
You see, once my boyfriend became my husband, everything about our relationship seemed to change—but not for the better, as I'd expected to spend at least an hour, each evening, enjoying each other's company. I mean, Dad told me I'd love sex after marriage, but no one so much as hinted that once my boyfriend made me his wife, his mindful mission would redirect toward achieving an exhausting goal that had so little to do with me as to flip the switch that turned up the pilot light, which caused my teen-aged insecurity with guys to re-ignite. As subconscious insecurity set yesteryear's anxiety aflame, my fear of being so unattractive as to have dampened my husband's ardor burned away at my peace of mind until all that was left of my sexually charged self esteem was a dying ember that quietly turned to ash as soon as any criticism, concerning my looks, flew out of Will's mouth.
If you ask why I'd not voiced my underlying fear of abandonment aloud, my answer would be twofold: First and foremost, subconscious fear is unrecognized by the conscious mind, and secondly, voicing a deeply rooted fear of abandonment, aloud, requires courage—and courage is a trait that, being a pleaser, I'd not developed, as of yet. So rather than voicing my fear, openly and honestly, I did what generations of women, living in a man's world, have been wont to do: I resorted to animal instinct (also known as woman's wiles), suggesting my primping and purring like a kitten on a mission.
So anyway, the fact of the matter is this: On most occasions when I'd apply ruby red lipstick after zipping my firm, supple young body into that leopard skin get-up, those choices did not reflect my wild thing feeling hot to trot. My need to arouse my husband's desire was not inspired by my libido's spitfire but rather by the emergence of subconscious scars, which felt so piercingly raw as to have drawn forth a heartwrenching sense of loneliness so painful that anxious tears wet my cheeks during the darkest hours of the night when inner demons are known to wreck havoc with subconscious vulnerabilities, which we manage to lock behind walls of denial during the sunlit day.
If you wonder why my fear-laden tears did not awaken my husband, who, more often than not, rolled to his side of the bed in a comatose state, seconds after his head hit the pillow, I'd reply: Each tear drop proved as silent as every sob that I'd smothered into my pillow for fear of waking the young doctor, whose brain proved swollen with all of the book learning, concerning life saving knowledge, which Will had been expected to absorb and store within the forefront of his mind, hour upon hour, day after day, week in and week out, and as I'd watched him labor over his books, night after night, in no way did I feel that the depth of my unhappiness compared equally to my hard working husband's need to arise at the crack of dawn with a good night's sleep under his belt.
I find it interesting to note that every time that leopard get-up comes to mind, so does a particular evening when the guy in my bed who caught wind of my scent was not Will ...
It's not as if Will had never seen me in leopard skinned lounging apparel until that night when readiness for conception was ripe ... it's just that our habit had been to enjoy dinner before dessert.
As to that leopard skin get-up, which clung to my curves, I chose to zip it up whenever the hospital kept Will so preoccupied, over an extended period of time, that I felt lonely whether he was there, caring for patients or here, at home, head buried in textbooks.
You see, once my boyfriend became my husband, everything about our relationship seemed to change—but not for the better, as I'd expected to spend at least an hour, each evening, enjoying each other's company. I mean, Dad told me I'd love sex after marriage, but no one so much as hinted that once my boyfriend made me his wife, his mindful mission would redirect toward achieving an exhausting goal that had so little to do with me as to flip the switch that turned up the pilot light, which caused my teen-aged insecurity with guys to re-ignite. As subconscious insecurity set yesteryear's anxiety aflame, my fear of being so unattractive as to have dampened my husband's ardor burned away at my peace of mind until all that was left of my sexually charged self esteem was a dying ember that quietly turned to ash as soon as any criticism, concerning my looks, flew out of Will's mouth.
If you ask why I'd not voiced my underlying fear of abandonment aloud, my answer would be twofold: First and foremost, subconscious fear is unrecognized by the conscious mind, and secondly, voicing a deeply rooted fear of abandonment, aloud, requires courage—and courage is a trait that, being a pleaser, I'd not developed, as of yet. So rather than voicing my fear, openly and honestly, I did what generations of women, living in a man's world, have been wont to do: I resorted to animal instinct (also known as woman's wiles), suggesting my primping and purring like a kitten on a mission.
So anyway, the fact of the matter is this: On most occasions when I'd apply ruby red lipstick after zipping my firm, supple young body into that leopard skin get-up, those choices did not reflect my wild thing feeling hot to trot. My need to arouse my husband's desire was not inspired by my libido's spitfire but rather by the emergence of subconscious scars, which felt so piercingly raw as to have drawn forth a heartwrenching sense of loneliness so painful that anxious tears wet my cheeks during the darkest hours of the night when inner demons are known to wreck havoc with subconscious vulnerabilities, which we manage to lock behind walls of denial during the sunlit day.
If you wonder why my fear-laden tears did not awaken my husband, who, more often than not, rolled to his side of the bed in a comatose state, seconds after his head hit the pillow, I'd reply: Each tear drop proved as silent as every sob that I'd smothered into my pillow for fear of waking the young doctor, whose brain proved swollen with all of the book learning, concerning life saving knowledge, which Will had been expected to absorb and store within the forefront of his mind, hour upon hour, day after day, week in and week out, and as I'd watched him labor over his books, night after night, in no way did I feel that the depth of my unhappiness compared equally to my hard working husband's need to arise at the crack of dawn with a good night's sleep under his belt.
I find it interesting to note that every time that leopard get-up comes to mind, so does a particular evening when the guy in my bed who caught wind of my scent was not Will ...
Saturday, July 25, 2015
1367 INTRO TO MY INEXPERIENCED ADVENTURES INTO PARENTING Part 2
1968
We've been so busy working that time passes quickly, and before we blink twice, Will's graduation has passed, suggesting that my birth control pills have been tossed to the winds. Knowing that our baby's gestation will last nine months, I plan to conceive, carry to term and give birth soon after another year of teaching fifth grade draws to a close, at which time I'll resign my position as Pied Piper to a classroom of boys and girls, whose friendship, laughter and antics will surely be missed until a babe in arms is mine to have, hold and love, 24/7.
When months pass without conception taking place, that does not worry me, but this does: In addition to not conceiving, I've stained nothing red, suggesting a trip to my gynecologist is in order.
We've been so busy working that time passes quickly, and before we blink twice, Will's graduation has passed, suggesting that my birth control pills have been tossed to the winds. Knowing that our baby's gestation will last nine months, I plan to conceive, carry to term and give birth soon after another year of teaching fifth grade draws to a close, at which time I'll resign my position as Pied Piper to a classroom of boys and girls, whose friendship, laughter and antics will surely be missed until a babe in arms is mine to have, hold and love, 24/7.
When months pass without conception taking place, that does not worry me, but this does: In addition to not conceiving, I've stained nothing red, suggesting a trip to my gynecologist is in order.
After listening to the voice of experience explain that taking the pill is known to unbalance the body's natural rhythm of regularity, I return home feeling reassured that, with patience, all will be well only to find that once my days in the red tent resume, they're spaced at least two months apart, so back to the doctor I go. This time, I'm instructed to purchase a basal body thermometer, which will be used every morning, and as soon as my temp goes up just a notch, that will indicate ovulation is taking place ...
The very first time my temp goes up a notch, I spend the day awaiting Will's return from the hospital, where he's engaged in a rotating internship, which allows him to taste several medical specialties. The nature of each rotation offers a fledgling doc the ability to select the specialty, which appeals to his or her sensibilities. Though Will's natural inclination leans toward pediatrics, his sensitivity, concerning terminally ill kids, runs so deep as to dismiss this specialty as his chosen field. He finds surgery intriguing, so his personal interest turns in that direction only to find general surgery too bloody for words. However, the use of tourniquets makes that untrue of orthopedics, which offers endless opportunities to treat adults and children, whose injuries prove to be within the surgeon's realm of expertise to heal, and thus, before his year of internship draws to a close, Will finds himself applying for Orthopedic residencies, as did his elder brother, Jeremy, five years ago—whoops—my train of thought is getting off track, so before I write even one more word, let's circle back to our story where ...
Will arrives home from the hospital, all tuckered out and hungry after a grueling, twelve hour day ... and though 'something's cooking in our apartment, that something's not dinner. That something is me. Upon walking into our bedroom to change out of his white coat, button down, long sleeved shirt and tie, my husband's eyes open wide in surprise to find a five-foot-three-inched, green eyed, leopard-skinned kitten purring for attention in the middle of his bed ...
The very first time my temp goes up a notch, I spend the day awaiting Will's return from the hospital, where he's engaged in a rotating internship, which allows him to taste several medical specialties. The nature of each rotation offers a fledgling doc the ability to select the specialty, which appeals to his or her sensibilities. Though Will's natural inclination leans toward pediatrics, his sensitivity, concerning terminally ill kids, runs so deep as to dismiss this specialty as his chosen field. He finds surgery intriguing, so his personal interest turns in that direction only to find general surgery too bloody for words. However, the use of tourniquets makes that untrue of orthopedics, which offers endless opportunities to treat adults and children, whose injuries prove to be within the surgeon's realm of expertise to heal, and thus, before his year of internship draws to a close, Will finds himself applying for Orthopedic residencies, as did his elder brother, Jeremy, five years ago—whoops—my train of thought is getting off track, so before I write even one more word, let's circle back to our story where ...
Will arrives home from the hospital, all tuckered out and hungry after a grueling, twelve hour day ... and though 'something's cooking in our apartment, that something's not dinner. That something is me. Upon walking into our bedroom to change out of his white coat, button down, long sleeved shirt and tie, my husband's eyes open wide in surprise to find a five-foot-three-inched, green eyed, leopard-skinned kitten purring for attention in the middle of his bed ...
Friday, July 24, 2015
1366 INTRO TO MY INEXPERIENCED ADVENTURES INTO PARENTING Part 1
1966
While swirling gusts of wind can be seen whipping autumn leaves off trees, Will and I, feeling warm and safe in our tiny dining room, are sitting at dinner on folding chairs at the card table, borrowed from my parents. Other than that borrowed card table and chairs, our four room, third floor, walk up apartment is utterly bare, except for the king sized box spring and mattress on our bedroom floor. If we glance around the bedroom, we'll spy a closet, where several blouses, skirts, dresses, shirts, pants and sport coats are hung, and directly across from the foot of our mattress stands a wall, where we might expect to find a dresser and chest; however there's nothing to see until our eyes travel down that wall to the floor, where a suitcase has been placed. Within this suitcase are Will's neatly folded garments, and next to that is a large department store box in which my clothing is stored. Oh, yes. I almost forgot. In the corner of our room, you'll see two wedding gifts, which Will and I feel ever so grateful to have received: A 19inch, black and white portable TV, perching atop its aluminum stand.
Though we own nothing other than Will's suitcase, that mattress, our clothes, the TV and an assortment of wedding gifts (all household necessities), shelved within a few kitchen cabinets (if our dining room is tiny, our cooking space is smaller, yet) we feel enriched rather than poor. Why? Because both hearts are buoyed with hopes of seeing our rosy future transform into tomorrow's reality, and having been raised by two sets of parents, whose resilence proved so resourceful as to stand up and move forward no matter how hard or often fate had knocked them down, my bridegroom and I rely, unconsciously, upon this strong spirited family trait of survivorship, pumping pluckily through Will's bloodstream and mine. In short, our unspoken mantra is: Try, try until success is won.
In addition to absorbing my parents' resilient sense of pluck, It was my good fortune to be raised by a father, whose hearty spirit proved so openly loving as to have injected my strong sense of survivorship with this intuitive belief: I, like my father, am naturally empowered to leap over tall buildings in a single bound in hopes of soaring toward thriving, and as long as that subconscious belief remained harbored deep within my brain, I'd felt empowered to wisk all of my loved ones to safety, where the depth of my love provided one and all protection from pain. Upon reflecting back over my childhood, We'd see a dark haired, blue eyed child, emulating her father's strong spirited enjoyment of high jinks while historically emulating responsible behaviors, role modeled by both of her parents to a fault, and once this introduction whisks teacher bride and doctor bridegroom into the realm of expectant parenthood, you'll see me shine up the baton, passed down from my parents, which served as a magic wand of resourcefulness with which this Pied Piper inspired three pint-sized Rambos to follow my lead, cooperatively rather than resentfully.
At any rate, I'm still pretty much a blushing bride, when, during dinner, I muster the courage to blurt out: I forgot to take my birth control pills for the last four days!
Upon hearing this, my husband, who'd 'known me in a biblical way', just last night, chokes mid swallow, and as his windpipe closes up, Will, who depends upon my salary to feed us, is fast turning from 'rosy' to purple as he barely manages to say: Geez! How could you let that happen?
While I fidget in my folding chair, you can hear me whine: I don't know! I picked up the pill dispenser, this morning, and saw those four pills staring back at me!
And thus does the waiting game begin ... until the blessed day dawns, when red stains appear, and with a sigh of relief, we rejoice to find that, once again, all is well in our mutually responsible world!
At twenty-four, my brand new husband of just a few months, is a fourth year med student, suggesting that my one-year old teaching degree must pay for our keep for another year before Will's many years of education reap any financial reward. So you can believe me when I say that not once, over the next year, will a day pass without Will reminding twenty-two year old me to swallow that little round pill—and in hopes of doubling Will's reminder with one of my own—I've Scotch taped a note to the medicine cabinet mirror that says: Take your pill or get pregnant, Dummy! ...
Once Will proudly takes part in the traditional cap and gown processional, during which the degree of doctor of medicine will be conferred upon himself and his buds, we'll flush whatever is left in that month's circular birth control pill container away, because both of us adore kids, and we can't wait to have, hold, love and play with one of our own. As to knowing what it takes to raise the next generation, effectively (as well as joyously, which will be a given for me) well, we were so naive as to have had no qualms about need to discipline our young for this reason: Will and I had been such exemplary kids that neither of us had a clue of this fact: Raising babies to become caring, compassionate, responsible adults, over an eighteen year period, proves to be one of life's most daunting challenges.
As most young people feel eager to
Experience life as we perceive it to be
Will and I are in a hurry to get a bun in the oven until
Fate steps in and much to our dismay Will and I learn
How little control we have over the timing of our baby-making plan
And thus does the waiting game begin, again ...
While swirling gusts of wind can be seen whipping autumn leaves off trees, Will and I, feeling warm and safe in our tiny dining room, are sitting at dinner on folding chairs at the card table, borrowed from my parents. Other than that borrowed card table and chairs, our four room, third floor, walk up apartment is utterly bare, except for the king sized box spring and mattress on our bedroom floor. If we glance around the bedroom, we'll spy a closet, where several blouses, skirts, dresses, shirts, pants and sport coats are hung, and directly across from the foot of our mattress stands a wall, where we might expect to find a dresser and chest; however there's nothing to see until our eyes travel down that wall to the floor, where a suitcase has been placed. Within this suitcase are Will's neatly folded garments, and next to that is a large department store box in which my clothing is stored. Oh, yes. I almost forgot. In the corner of our room, you'll see two wedding gifts, which Will and I feel ever so grateful to have received: A 19inch, black and white portable TV, perching atop its aluminum stand.
Though we own nothing other than Will's suitcase, that mattress, our clothes, the TV and an assortment of wedding gifts (all household necessities), shelved within a few kitchen cabinets (if our dining room is tiny, our cooking space is smaller, yet) we feel enriched rather than poor. Why? Because both hearts are buoyed with hopes of seeing our rosy future transform into tomorrow's reality, and having been raised by two sets of parents, whose resilence proved so resourceful as to stand up and move forward no matter how hard or often fate had knocked them down, my bridegroom and I rely, unconsciously, upon this strong spirited family trait of survivorship, pumping pluckily through Will's bloodstream and mine. In short, our unspoken mantra is: Try, try until success is won.
In addition to absorbing my parents' resilient sense of pluck, It was my good fortune to be raised by a father, whose hearty spirit proved so openly loving as to have injected my strong sense of survivorship with this intuitive belief: I, like my father, am naturally empowered to leap over tall buildings in a single bound in hopes of soaring toward thriving, and as long as that subconscious belief remained harbored deep within my brain, I'd felt empowered to wisk all of my loved ones to safety, where the depth of my love provided one and all protection from pain. Upon reflecting back over my childhood, We'd see a dark haired, blue eyed child, emulating her father's strong spirited enjoyment of high jinks while historically emulating responsible behaviors, role modeled by both of her parents to a fault, and once this introduction whisks teacher bride and doctor bridegroom into the realm of expectant parenthood, you'll see me shine up the baton, passed down from my parents, which served as a magic wand of resourcefulness with which this Pied Piper inspired three pint-sized Rambos to follow my lead, cooperatively rather than resentfully.
At any rate, I'm still pretty much a blushing bride, when, during dinner, I muster the courage to blurt out: I forgot to take my birth control pills for the last four days!
Upon hearing this, my husband, who'd 'known me in a biblical way', just last night, chokes mid swallow, and as his windpipe closes up, Will, who depends upon my salary to feed us, is fast turning from 'rosy' to purple as he barely manages to say: Geez! How could you let that happen?
While I fidget in my folding chair, you can hear me whine: I don't know! I picked up the pill dispenser, this morning, and saw those four pills staring back at me!
And thus does the waiting game begin ... until the blessed day dawns, when red stains appear, and with a sigh of relief, we rejoice to find that, once again, all is well in our mutually responsible world!
At twenty-four, my brand new husband of just a few months, is a fourth year med student, suggesting that my one-year old teaching degree must pay for our keep for another year before Will's many years of education reap any financial reward. So you can believe me when I say that not once, over the next year, will a day pass without Will reminding twenty-two year old me to swallow that little round pill—and in hopes of doubling Will's reminder with one of my own—I've Scotch taped a note to the medicine cabinet mirror that says: Take your pill or get pregnant, Dummy! ...
Once Will proudly takes part in the traditional cap and gown processional, during which the degree of doctor of medicine will be conferred upon himself and his buds, we'll flush whatever is left in that month's circular birth control pill container away, because both of us adore kids, and we can't wait to have, hold, love and play with one of our own. As to knowing what it takes to raise the next generation, effectively (as well as joyously, which will be a given for me) well, we were so naive as to have had no qualms about need to discipline our young for this reason: Will and I had been such exemplary kids that neither of us had a clue of this fact: Raising babies to become caring, compassionate, responsible adults, over an eighteen year period, proves to be one of life's most daunting challenges.
As most young people feel eager to
Experience life as we perceive it to be
Will and I are in a hurry to get a bun in the oven until
Fate steps in and much to our dismay Will and I learn
How little control we have over the timing of our baby-making plan
And thus does the waiting game begin, again ...
Thursday, July 23, 2015
1365 TO WRITE A STORY REQUIRES AN INSPIRED SENSE OF READINESS
Horoscopic musings:
If you busy yourself using the hours too responsibly, you'll lose sight of the child-like wonder repressed inside you
It is said that the secret of happiness is founded in freedom ... it's hard to find your bliss when you confine your needs to meeting those belonging to others
When the moment feels right to assert your independence, privacy and solitude may be called for, because some problems are yours alone to solve
If you feel like you've been on a Herculean mission that requires every bit of your strength to sustain self control, you'll miss the fact that your life is your song to sing. Grab the gusto to ask for something outrageous, and you'll get it ... Within reason ... Balance in all things
Self esteem isn't about thinking you're great. It's about recognizing your insufficiencies and still choosing to like yourself
You'll spend time with the person who is your mirror ... finding time to be with this person may not prove smooth or easy, but you'll be better for it
2015
I awoke this morning feeling inspired to 'tell' you a story ...
Hopefully, a greater portion of today will be spent
Writing from a place of memory than has been true for quite a while ...
If you busy yourself using the hours too responsibly, you'll lose sight of the child-like wonder repressed inside you
It is said that the secret of happiness is founded in freedom ... it's hard to find your bliss when you confine your needs to meeting those belonging to others
When the moment feels right to assert your independence, privacy and solitude may be called for, because some problems are yours alone to solve
If you feel like you've been on a Herculean mission that requires every bit of your strength to sustain self control, you'll miss the fact that your life is your song to sing. Grab the gusto to ask for something outrageous, and you'll get it ... Within reason ... Balance in all things
Self esteem isn't about thinking you're great. It's about recognizing your insufficiencies and still choosing to like yourself
You'll spend time with the person who is your mirror ... finding time to be with this person may not prove smooth or easy, but you'll be better for it
2015
I awoke this morning feeling inspired to 'tell' you a story ...
Hopefully, a greater portion of today will be spent
Writing from a place of memory than has been true for quite a while ...
Wednesday, July 22, 2015
1364 PATIENCE, READINESS, GENTLENESS, GOOD HUMOR AND UNDERSTANDING
2015
"Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart
And try to embrace puzzling questions like
Books that are written in a foreign tongue
Do not now seek answers, which cannot be given to you
Because you may not be ready to live them—as of yet
The point is to live the questions, now, and feel everything
Because you will gradually, without noticing exactly when
Live, along some distant day, into the answers that
You've known, deep down, all along"
—Author unknown
"Criticism is good for people
But we are all part of the same fabric
And scrutiny of one part by another
Can be just as effective if it is made with
A touch of gentleness, good humor and understanding."
—Queen Elizabeth II of Great Britain
BTW
If you see a change in the format of my blog
This inexplicable change took place
At the same time that
An unidentified glitch caused photos
Published, yesterday, to go haywire
I guess we can surmise that my blog
Is reacting like a brain that is in need of
Healing when unprocessed memories remain repressed
Subconsciously, in their traumatized state ...
As to yesterday's post ... you know the drill ...
Insights were added ...
And now, to end for today on a positive note ...
Guess whose sweet smile welcomed us home from the coast?
The very same soft, chubby cheeked little miss
Who's eager to play with her Gramma, again, today—lucky me!
"Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart
And try to embrace puzzling questions like
Books that are written in a foreign tongue
Do not now seek answers, which cannot be given to you
Because you may not be ready to live them—as of yet
The point is to live the questions, now, and feel everything
Because you will gradually, without noticing exactly when
Live, along some distant day, into the answers that
You've known, deep down, all along"
—Author unknown
"Criticism is good for people
But we are all part of the same fabric
And scrutiny of one part by another
Can be just as effective if it is made with
A touch of gentleness, good humor and understanding."
—Queen Elizabeth II of Great Britain
BTW
If you see a change in the format of my blog
This inexplicable change took place
At the same time that
An unidentified glitch caused photos
Published, yesterday, to go haywire
I guess we can surmise that my blog
Is reacting like a brain that is in need of
Healing when unprocessed memories remain repressed
Subconsciously, in their traumatized state ...
As to yesterday's post ... you know the drill ...
Insights were added ...
And now, to end for today on a positive note ...
Guess whose sweet smile welcomed us home from the coast?
The very same soft, chubby cheeked little miss
Who's eager to play with her Gramma, again, today—lucky me!
Tuesday, July 21, 2015
1363. JUST FLEW HOME FROM A FAMILY FUN FEST ON THE COAST
2015
Just flew home after frolicking through
A long weekend get-away that proved anything but
Relaxing, because all of us celebrated a
Star Wars birthday bash that extended over four days!
(BTW: Frolicking may pop up as
A word choice, repeatedly, throughout this post, because
It describes our weekend get-away to a tee!)
Several months back, Barry bought a spacious new home, and
As planned, Marie, his sweetheart of three years
Moved in, along with her munchkins, Tony and Ray, who
Being five and four, respectively, have no conscious recollection of
Life before Barry slid lovingly into the role of second father to both
Since their home has two guest rooms, we were happily advised
That, from this day forward, hotel accommodations are
Out of the question, and
By the time Will and I had unpacked in one guest room
David, who 'd driven down from his new apartment, which
Is located in a major metropolis about 40 minutes due north
Of Barry's new residence, was unpacking his duffle in the other
And thus, from Friday through Monday, a large portion of
Our family enjoyed the same kind of
'Family camp' emotional comraderie that
My three sons and their cousins and friends
Enjoyed as kids, who had
Frolicked to his or her heart's content in
Our desert home and cabin in the pines, both
Of which offered children of all ages from
One to one-hundred-and-one
Freedom to enjoy life at their leisure as long as
No one stepped on anyone else's toes, homework got done
And everyone pitched in when chores were in need of doing
[As to those times when conflict could not be resolved in a
Peaceable, rational manner, leadership
Had chosen to learn how to make effective use of
Logical or natural consequences with
Consistency whenever brainstorming proved necessary
As Will, Barry and David have no trouble acting like
Four and five year olds when light sabers are plentiful ...
A rollicking fun fest of a weekend was enjoyed by all—and
And regardless of my troublesome back—
Nothing could stop my wild thing from
Leaping into the fray and adding to the fun
(Within reason) from time to time!
(Uh oh—Something fluky just happened to the photos
I've chosen to post, and I won't have time to
Figure out what's wrong till later, so
If giant photos appear or reappear in partial form
Just swipe from left to right or right to left, as
Needs be, and the photo, as a whole, will be seen
If you have no clue what I'm referencing
Just ignore this caution that's meant
To lessen confusion until I find time to
Right whatever's gone wrong ... Uh ...
On second thought, I may not correct
This problem, after at all, for this reason:
The disorienting nature of these photos may
Be used to empvpxemplify
Unprocessed memories, flashing faster than
The speed of light through our subconscious, blasting
All sense of logical reasoning powers straight out of
Our conscious minds, which
Describes exactly what happens to our brains when
Anything triggers a subconscious episode of
PTSD, which, left in its raw, unhealed
Unprocessed state, is empowered to
Scare us senseless, so if your defense system
Has blocked your conscious mind from
Even partial awareness of a traumatic memory, which
Remains tucked behind a
Self protective wall of denial, anything
That feels remotely similar to
That 'forgotten' memory will trigger
An episodic flash of PTSD, which will
Cause onlookers to believe that your
Emotional reaction to a car back firing
Is outrageously exaggerated, half baked and
Totally out of line! In fact, if
Onlookers think your train of thought has
Gone so loco as to jump the track and hit a wall ...
They'll be right except for this caveat:
Once triggered, an episode of
PTSD makes observers believe
You're off your rocker for no reason, though
A perfectly sound reason, which exists in
Your subconscious, can be found and
Relieved with astute professional help
As to those photos that have been published
In this post in a random manner that I don't understand
One shows Barry, holding, Ray, the birthday boy, whose
Face is painted black, like Darth Vader's helmet n' mask
Next to Barry is David, holding five year old Tony, who
Somehow looks bearded, and then
As you continue to scroll down
You'll see Batman and Robin at play, followed by
A pair of smiling faces on two adorable munchkins
Both of whom look up to several adults, who are
Hopefully learning how to discipline
Their young by way of role modeling
Positive techniques of self control, which
Over time, get to feeling so natural that
The adult's consistency inspires children to mimic
The Pied Piper's respectful interactions, suggesting
That as the future unfolds, conflict resolution
Takes place during family meetings, which
Remain calm, because everyone listens astutely while
The problem at hand is discussed, and then
While passing the talking stick
All concerned brainstorm through possible hoices until
A mutually respectful solution is found (many
Examples to come as soon as my storyteller awakens)
If you ask: Annie, how do you get kids to
Sit and talk calmly instead of throwing tantrums?
I'd reply: It's not kids, who have to change first ...
The people who are in need of changing, first
Are those who call themselves 'grown ups' but
Act like bullies in need of dominating
Every dissenting opinion in the room ...
Common sense suggests that young minds
Cannot be expected to absorb and store
Respectful methods of brainstorming, which
Resolve conflicts, effectively, from adults
Whose voices threaten, yell and insult
A child's vulnerable psyche ...
Therefore, it's the parent, who must consent to
Learn to work through conflicts with
Self-control intact, first ... most especially
At those those times when the going gets rough—all around)
And having clarified the fact that adult mindsets must
Change before a child can be expected to follow suit...
Here are the photos, which have been published
In a manner that defies my sense of logical comprehension ...
Uh—I feel inclined to interrupt this line of photos in order to
Express a question that you might want to ask, concerning how I find time
To write while all of these hi-jinks and shenanigans are going on, and
In answer to that question, I'd reply:
Time to write finds me in that my subconscious
Awakens my conscious mind, daily, before 6AM, suggesting
That while the munchkins are still curled up
All warm and cozy (and quiet) under their
Spiderman and Batman comforters, fast asleep ...
Intuitive thought inspires me to reach for my iPad, and
Over the next two hours, nothing other than
Thoughts, flowing out of my mind and
On to the screen, seems to exist in a wakeful state until
Two dark haired, adorable little tanks bound into the
Guest suite and, naturally, pandemonium (simulating
That which took place while I was raising
Three wild, rambunctious bucking young colts)
Busts loose as jumping beans leap up and down on
Our bed, getting each day off to a high spirited start!
And as soon as those jumping beans leap on me
I'm thrilled to invest my time and energy in tickling
My way through yet another fun-filled day in which
The imaginative minds of children at play offer
My spirit reason to soar higher than when
I was the small, inquisitive child, puzzling my way through
That deeply confounding time of my life when
Our family tragedy, which had been subconsciously repressed in
An unprocessed, traumatized state, caused
My self perception to lose sight of the good person, whom
I've chosen to be, though I'd, unknowingly, felt need to
Walk on eggshells throughout my life—until recently, when
EMDR therapy coaxed me to free the assertive portion of
My voice, which had been held captive since
I had reason to feel terrified when the anger of giants
Scared me half out of my wits at the vulnerable age of three ...
And so, upon reflection, is it any wonder that
While playing with this pair of rambunctious little tykes
I tend to watch their reactions, both tender and aggressive
As closely as I listen astutely to their fears in hopes of
Responding with reassurances (in the same way that had been
true when my sons and their cousins and friends had been young)
That I'd been in need of when excessive tension, over an
Extended period of grief, caused reprimands to
Scare me half to death when I (like Tony and Ray)
Had been a good child, who'd had no clue how to fathom
That which fate had dealt, which proved far beyond
The level of any child's comprehension between
The vulnerable ages of three and five—I mean, seriously—
Can you imagine how hard an adult brain must work to process
Memories, long forgot, which felt so terrifying as to be absorbed by
The subconscious in the form of this misbelief: I am such a
Bad person as to feel unworthy of love unless
I toe the mark of perfection to a tee, every minute of every day! Geez!
What a heavy load of undeserved guilt for the conscience of a good person to
Lug forward in an unprocessed state throughout each stage of life!
Just flew home after frolicking through
A long weekend get-away that proved anything but
Relaxing, because all of us celebrated a
Star Wars birthday bash that extended over four days!
(BTW: Frolicking may pop up as
A word choice, repeatedly, throughout this post, because
It describes our weekend get-away to a tee!)
Several months back, Barry bought a spacious new home, and
As planned, Marie, his sweetheart of three years
Moved in, along with her munchkins, Tony and Ray, who
Being five and four, respectively, have no conscious recollection of
Life before Barry slid lovingly into the role of second father to both
Since their home has two guest rooms, we were happily advised
That, from this day forward, hotel accommodations are
Out of the question, and
By the time Will and I had unpacked in one guest room
David, who 'd driven down from his new apartment, which
Is located in a major metropolis about 40 minutes due north
Of Barry's new residence, was unpacking his duffle in the other
And thus, from Friday through Monday, a large portion of
Our family enjoyed the same kind of
'Family camp' emotional comraderie that
My three sons and their cousins and friends
Enjoyed as kids, who had
Frolicked to his or her heart's content in
Our desert home and cabin in the pines, both
Of which offered children of all ages from
One to one-hundred-and-one
Freedom to enjoy life at their leisure as long as
No one stepped on anyone else's toes, homework got done
And everyone pitched in when chores were in need of doing
[As to those times when conflict could not be resolved in a
Peaceable, rational manner, leadership
Had chosen to learn how to make effective use of
Logical or natural consequences with
Consistency whenever brainstorming proved necessary
As Will, Barry and David have no trouble acting like
Four and five year olds when light sabers are plentiful ...
A rollicking fun fest of a weekend was enjoyed by all—and
And regardless of my troublesome back—
Nothing could stop my wild thing from
Leaping into the fray and adding to the fun
(Within reason) from time to time!
(Uh oh—Something fluky just happened to the photos
I've chosen to post, and I won't have time to
Figure out what's wrong till later, so
If giant photos appear or reappear in partial form
Just swipe from left to right or right to left, as
Needs be, and the photo, as a whole, will be seen
If you have no clue what I'm referencing
Just ignore this caution that's meant
To lessen confusion until I find time to
Right whatever's gone wrong ... Uh ...
On second thought, I may not correct
This problem, after at all, for this reason:
The disorienting nature of these photos may
Be used to empvpxemplify
Unprocessed memories, flashing faster than
The speed of light through our subconscious, blasting
All sense of logical reasoning powers straight out of
Our conscious minds, which
Describes exactly what happens to our brains when
Anything triggers a subconscious episode of
PTSD, which, left in its raw, unhealed
Unprocessed state, is empowered to
Scare us senseless, so if your defense system
Has blocked your conscious mind from
Even partial awareness of a traumatic memory, which
Remains tucked behind a
Self protective wall of denial, anything
That feels remotely similar to
That 'forgotten' memory will trigger
An episodic flash of PTSD, which will
Cause onlookers to believe that your
Emotional reaction to a car back firing
Is outrageously exaggerated, half baked and
Totally out of line! In fact, if
Onlookers think your train of thought has
Gone so loco as to jump the track and hit a wall ...
They'll be right except for this caveat:
Once triggered, an episode of
PTSD makes observers believe
You're off your rocker for no reason, though
A perfectly sound reason, which exists in
Your subconscious, can be found and
Relieved with astute professional help
As to those photos that have been published
In this post in a random manner that I don't understand
One shows Barry, holding, Ray, the birthday boy, whose
Face is painted black, like Darth Vader's helmet n' mask
Next to Barry is David, holding five year old Tony, who
Somehow looks bearded, and then
As you continue to scroll down
You'll see Batman and Robin at play, followed by
A pair of smiling faces on two adorable munchkins
Both of whom look up to several adults, who are
Hopefully learning how to discipline
Their young by way of role modeling
Positive techniques of self control, which
Over time, get to feeling so natural that
The adult's consistency inspires children to mimic
The Pied Piper's respectful interactions, suggesting
That as the future unfolds, conflict resolution
Takes place during family meetings, which
Remain calm, because everyone listens astutely while
The problem at hand is discussed, and then
While passing the talking stick
All concerned brainstorm through possible hoices until
A mutually respectful solution is found (many
Examples to come as soon as my storyteller awakens)
If you ask: Annie, how do you get kids to
Sit and talk calmly instead of throwing tantrums?
I'd reply: It's not kids, who have to change first ...
The people who are in need of changing, first
Are those who call themselves 'grown ups' but
Act like bullies in need of dominating
Every dissenting opinion in the room ...
Common sense suggests that young minds
Cannot be expected to absorb and store
Respectful methods of brainstorming, which
Resolve conflicts, effectively, from adults
Whose voices threaten, yell and insult
A child's vulnerable psyche ...
Therefore, it's the parent, who must consent to
Learn to work through conflicts with
Self-control intact, first ... most especially
At those those times when the going gets rough—all around)
And having clarified the fact that adult mindsets must
Change before a child can be expected to follow suit...
Here are the photos, which have been published
In a manner that defies my sense of logical comprehension ...
Adorable Birthday Boy at bedtime
May the 'fourth' be with you!
Express a question that you might want to ask, concerning how I find time
To write while all of these hi-jinks and shenanigans are going on, and
In answer to that question, I'd reply:
Time to write finds me in that my subconscious
Awakens my conscious mind, daily, before 6AM, suggesting
That while the munchkins are still curled up
All warm and cozy (and quiet) under their
Spiderman and Batman comforters, fast asleep ...
Intuitive thought inspires me to reach for my iPad, and
Over the next two hours, nothing other than
Thoughts, flowing out of my mind and
On to the screen, seems to exist in a wakeful state until
Two dark haired, adorable little tanks bound into the
Guest suite and, naturally, pandemonium (simulating
That which took place while I was raising
Three wild, rambunctious bucking young colts)
Busts loose as jumping beans leap up and down on
Our bed, getting each day off to a high spirited start!
And as soon as those jumping beans leap on me
I'm thrilled to invest my time and energy in tickling
My way through yet another fun-filled day in which
The imaginative minds of children at play offer
My spirit reason to soar higher than when
I was the small, inquisitive child, puzzling my way through
That deeply confounding time of my life when
Our family tragedy, which had been subconsciously repressed in
An unprocessed, traumatized state, caused
My self perception to lose sight of the good person, whom
I've chosen to be, though I'd, unknowingly, felt need to
Walk on eggshells throughout my life—until recently, when
EMDR therapy coaxed me to free the assertive portion of
My voice, which had been held captive since
I had reason to feel terrified when the anger of giants
Scared me half out of my wits at the vulnerable age of three ...
And so, upon reflection, is it any wonder that
While playing with this pair of rambunctious little tykes
I tend to watch their reactions, both tender and aggressive
As closely as I listen astutely to their fears in hopes of
Responding with reassurances (in the same way that had been
true when my sons and their cousins and friends had been young)
That I'd been in need of when excessive tension, over an
Extended period of grief, caused reprimands to
Scare me half to death when I (like Tony and Ray)
Had been a good child, who'd had no clue how to fathom
That which fate had dealt, which proved far beyond
The level of any child's comprehension between
The vulnerable ages of three and five—I mean, seriously—
Can you imagine how hard an adult brain must work to process
Memories, long forgot, which felt so terrifying as to be absorbed by
The subconscious in the form of this misbelief: I am such a
Bad person as to feel unworthy of love unless
I toe the mark of perfection to a tee, every minute of every day! Geez!
What a heavy load of undeserved guilt for the conscience of a good person to
Lug forward in an unprocessed state throughout each stage of life!
Jumping bean about to leap on Will ...
Monday, July 20, 2015
1362 PROCESSING SUBCONSCIOUS FEAR FREES PEACE OF MIND TO REGAIN ITS LOST SENSE OF REPOSE
2015
If you ask what freed me from feeling defensive about
Exposing my newly acknowledged fear of old age to you
I'd reply:
Once my wall of denial came tumbling down and
My conscious mind had time to identify, process
Accept and absorb that subconscious fear as my own
No part of my mind had reason to feel resistant about
Exposing a vulnerability that
Proves both timeless and universal to you
Once my comfort zone, concerning
Ownership of this fear had reason to
Expand, naturally, this anxious feeling, which had
Daunted and haunted my sense of well being
Was no longer empowered to
Usurp control over my intelligence, and
As intelligence coupled up with common sense
This powerful tag team had no trouble
Wrestling a fear, which no longer proved
Overwhelmingly daunting and haunting, to the mat ...
Though you might think that
This insight into self awareness plays no part in
Changing my aging process
I'll beg to differ with you for this reason:
That which has changed is my attitude, and
As attitude is everything, acceptance of
A common fear replaced anxiety, which had
Been unnamed, and
Once my awareness of deeper truth had reason to
Surface, my readiness to accept feeling anxious about
the reality of the aging process, leading toward
Death, actually made so much sense that
My peace of mind was restored
So, what, I wonder do you think of
A train of thought that proves to be as
Profoundly reassuring as that?
I mean, seriously ...
I'll still grow older, every day, but somehow
This change in my attitude from feeling
Defensively daunted and haunted to
Readily receptive to accepting
One of life's harshest truths
Provides my sense of personal safety wiith
A growing sense of emotional maturity that
Makes all the difference each time
I've mustered the courage to gain insight into
The ways that defensive denial
Creates dysfunction, which
Blinds my intelligence from accepting
Every human trait that includes strengths and
Vulnerabilities, necessary to embracing myself as
A healthy, well-balanced whole
In order to end this post (concerning
The importance of questing toward personal growth
Throughout every stage of life) on a positive note
Let's remind each other of this fact, every day:
You and I prove to be
Younger, today, then we'll ever be again ... And
Each time we slide that slice of optimistic common sense
Toward the forefront of our conscious minds
We can make the most of the present by
Believing that the best is yet to come, suggesting that
Tomorrow (which is only a day away) may offer us
Reason to accept brand new opportunities to brainstorm through
Inner conflicts until dreams, which
Offer our spirits reason to thrive, actually do come true!
And now, having offered up a thought as sunny as that
I'll bid you adieu till morning light awakens us to
Resume our intuitive quest for new strings of insight, which will
Inspire our decision-making process to expand
Your comfort zone and mine until
Our true selves feel so free as to
Soar higher in the clear blue sky, toward each other, than
Had proved possible once societal restrictions had
Frightened us into feeling like
Bad little children, which was most certainly not true!
And just as we had been very good children in the past
We continue to prove to be very good adults, right now
In fact, reflection suggests that
All too often, we're still too good for our own good
And for goodness sakes. ... that needs to change!
If you ask what freed me from feeling defensive about
Exposing my newly acknowledged fear of old age to you
I'd reply:
Once my wall of denial came tumbling down and
My conscious mind had time to identify, process
Accept and absorb that subconscious fear as my own
No part of my mind had reason to feel resistant about
Exposing a vulnerability that
Proves both timeless and universal to you
Once my comfort zone, concerning
Ownership of this fear had reason to
Expand, naturally, this anxious feeling, which had
Daunted and haunted my sense of well being
Was no longer empowered to
Usurp control over my intelligence, and
As intelligence coupled up with common sense
This powerful tag team had no trouble
Wrestling a fear, which no longer proved
Overwhelmingly daunting and haunting, to the mat ...
Though you might think that
This insight into self awareness plays no part in
Changing my aging process
I'll beg to differ with you for this reason:
That which has changed is my attitude, and
As attitude is everything, acceptance of
A common fear replaced anxiety, which had
Been unnamed, and
Once my awareness of deeper truth had reason to
Surface, my readiness to accept feeling anxious about
the reality of the aging process, leading toward
Death, actually made so much sense that
My peace of mind was restored
So, what, I wonder do you think of
A train of thought that proves to be as
Profoundly reassuring as that?
I mean, seriously ...
I'll still grow older, every day, but somehow
This change in my attitude from feeling
Defensively daunted and haunted to
Readily receptive to accepting
One of life's harshest truths
Provides my sense of personal safety wiith
A growing sense of emotional maturity that
Makes all the difference each time
I've mustered the courage to gain insight into
The ways that defensive denial
Creates dysfunction, which
Blinds my intelligence from accepting
Every human trait that includes strengths and
Vulnerabilities, necessary to embracing myself as
A healthy, well-balanced whole
In order to end this post (concerning
The importance of questing toward personal growth
Throughout every stage of life) on a positive note
Let's remind each other of this fact, every day:
You and I prove to be
Younger, today, then we'll ever be again ... And
Each time we slide that slice of optimistic common sense
Toward the forefront of our conscious minds
We can make the most of the present by
Believing that the best is yet to come, suggesting that
Tomorrow (which is only a day away) may offer us
Reason to accept brand new opportunities to brainstorm through
Inner conflicts until dreams, which
Offer our spirits reason to thrive, actually do come true!
And now, having offered up a thought as sunny as that
I'll bid you adieu till morning light awakens us to
Resume our intuitive quest for new strings of insight, which will
Inspire our decision-making process to expand
Your comfort zone and mine until
Our true selves feel so free as to
Soar higher in the clear blue sky, toward each other, than
Had proved possible once societal restrictions had
Frightened us into feeling like
Bad little children, which was most certainly not true!
And just as we had been very good children in the past
We continue to prove to be very good adults, right now
In fact, reflection suggests that
All too often, we're still too good for our own good
And for goodness sakes. ... that needs to change!
Sunday, July 19, 2015
1361 A DUALITY OF STRESSFUL EVENTS
2015
It's ironic to think that I could not publish a post, concerning
My subconscious fear of growing old
Until after a stressful event aroused
A subconscious attack of PTSD, which caused
Such an over-production of adrenalin that
The apex of my heart ballooned, landing
Your friend, Annie, in intensive care, where
Many people, who, like me
Have passed a certain age, are lined up
In beds, hooked up to life saving machines—Oy!
Now, if we consider the fact that I did not feel free to
Publish my fear of aging (in a similar manner, which
Proved true of past generations of
Our family's matriarchs) until after
That deeply stressful event caused
My heart to react in a dysfunctional manner—
That sequence of events begs me to quest within until
An answer this question penetrates my conscious awareness:
What caused my defensive wall to
Prevent me from exposing my
Fear of aging for public consumption, until after
My most recent stay in intensive care?
While you and I ponder upon that riddle
I hope you'll refrain from rolling your eyes when
Today's train of thought pulls forth this little red caboose:
Insights were added to yesterday's post
It's ironic to think that I could not publish a post, concerning
My subconscious fear of growing old
Until after a stressful event aroused
A subconscious attack of PTSD, which caused
Such an over-production of adrenalin that
The apex of my heart ballooned, landing
Your friend, Annie, in intensive care, where
Many people, who, like me
Have passed a certain age, are lined up
In beds, hooked up to life saving machines—Oy!
Now, if we consider the fact that I did not feel free to
Publish my fear of aging (in a similar manner, which
Proved true of past generations of
Our family's matriarchs) until after
That deeply stressful event caused
My heart to react in a dysfunctional manner—
That sequence of events begs me to quest within until
An answer this question penetrates my conscious awareness:
What caused my defensive wall to
Prevent me from exposing my
Fear of aging for public consumption, until after
My most recent stay in intensive care?
While you and I ponder upon that riddle
I hope you'll refrain from rolling your eyes when
Today's train of thought pulls forth this little red caboose:
Insights were added to yesterday's post
Friday, July 17, 2015
1360 PREVIOUSLY UNPUBLISHED POST REVEALS A NEWLY PROCESSED FEAR
2015
Just as streams of intuitive thought (which
Deepen my awareness of personal
Traits, attitudes, mindsets, fears, values and
Beliefs that are processing through
Transition from one stage of emotional growth
Toward the next) inspire me to experience
Aha! moments that lift my spirit, there are times when
An Aha! moment causes anxiety to spike ...
As transitional change may generate pain before gain ...
It's not unusual for Will to comfort me on
Those nights when I can feel intuition stirring
My awareness to grapple with an insight, concerning
A vulnerability, which I'd denied as my own, and
While this insight into deeper truth is
Determinedly attempting to permeate my wall of denial
My conscious mind can't help but feel anxious about
Acknowledging a trait, attitude, mindset, fear or belief that
My subconscious is about to expose before
Readiness to consciously accept this awareness is mine
As the naked truth is often hard to accept
It's not unusual to see anxious tears
Cascading down my cheeks before I can
Pinpoint that which is causing my mind to
Feel so heavy as to drag
My high flying spirit to flag at half mast
If you ask what causes tears to flow from my eyes?
I'd reply: Grief
If you ask grief over what loss?
I'd reply:
A sense of loss is experienced each time
A vulnerability, which my ego
Had denied as my own, slips through
My defensive wall of denial, and
I come to see that this vulnerability, which
Had been tucked into my subconscious while
I'd judged others (who had openly demonstrated
This insecurity) as being lesser, somehow, than me until
Insight into self awareness forced my eyes to
Open so wide as to see myself as I really am ... And
Each time an expanded view of myself proves not so
Pretty a picture as I'd previously painted of myself
My sense of loss feels as sorrowful as
My ego feels shamed ... Until
My friend, Humility, comforts me by
Reminding me to stop beating myself up in favor of
Being as kind to my admission of ownership of
Every human vulnerability as I would with a friend
And each time my intelligence rescues me
From roasting my humiliation on a spit in the fires of
Damnation, overlong, my sense of
Dignity and grace embrace this
Newly identified vulnerability, and once
It has been integrated into my conscious mind
My sense of wholeness regains it's
Lost sense of inner strength and that which
Has been lost and recovered countless times is
Yet again, mine ... And if you ask:
Annie what has been lost and recovered
Each time you accept a vulnerability, which
You'd denied as your own?
I'd reply:
That which is recovered, over time, proves to be ...
My peace of mind ...
Though Will understands the fact that
'Something' that happens, today, can trigger
An attack of PTSD, causing anxiety and
Sorrow to surface from
A subconscious pocket in an unidentified state
It's natural for my husband to ask:
Annie, what's wrong?
This time, my initial reply was not: I don't know.
This time, I replied without hesitation:
'Everything and nothing, rolled into one' ...
Next thing I knew, intuitive thought took center stage
And upon opening my mouth
I felt every bit as surprised as Will to listen to
The emergence of subconscious fear speak aloud:
When the kids were young
I'd contemplate how best to
Encourage each one to open up to me in hopes that
My adult sense of logic could offer a child's mind
Reason to muster the courage to
Set defensive bravado aside in favor of
Brainstorming with me until clarity offered us
Insight into what might cause another child to
Purposely pour salt into my child's
Wounded emotional vulnerabilities, which
For the most part, are common to one and all
During their youth, I coached
Barry, Steven and David to absorb five tools necessary to
Rebalance their strong emotional reactions before
Their composure got too far out of line ...
Though I've modeled those tools for all three
Lately, I feel need for an effective coach to
Empower me to maintain control over MY reactions when
The one who feels more vulnerable than I can believe is ME!
Like, right now, I feel sad. Scared. Confused. And Mad—
All rolled into one ... and
Since so much negativity coursing through me
Feels overwhelming, my spike in anxiety
Is signaling my adrenal glands to
Release so much adrenalin that all I can think to do is
Fight, flee or freeze, suggesting that
A smoke bomb of confusion causes all sense of
Logical thought to fall apart, suggesting my having
Become so limbic as to feel as scatterbrained as
Chicken Little, who ran around shouting:
The sky is falling! What shall we do?
I think it's important to note that there are times when
My power of intuitive thought gets busy unpacking
An unprocessed piece of subconscious baggage before
My conscious mind has mustered the courage
To fortify itself with this fact:
Historically, I've learned to embrace
Insight into deeper truth, concerning
Unprocessed insecurities (which have
Caused 'the adult Annie' to feel as bad and unlovable as
I'd felt all those years ago, when Janet died and
Three year old me felt terrified, because ...
No matter how winsome I was, no smiles shone
Beams of sunlight in my direction for
A much longer expanse of time than
The deeply confused mind of
A small, frightened tot could fatham—
I mean seriously, small children are so
Egocentric as to blame themselves for
Everything that happens, and if
Swirling forces of grief and anger
Permeated the emotional environment of
Our apartment, week after week after week
I must have done something too terrible for words!
In fact, at three, I had no words to express
The complexity of that which
I'd felt and feared most of all:
I was such a bad girl as to have condemned myself
Unworthy of love ... However ...
Since my sense of logic was too undeveloped to process
Any thought that proved as complex as that
This unprocessed fear of seeing myself as
Unlovable settled into a subconscious
Pocket of my mind, and every since I was three
Any anger that fingered me as lacking in perfection
Triggered that subconscious reaction to
Emerge in the form of PTSD—which
Blindsights the most intelligent mind with
Irrationality, no matter how old and educated
Three year old Annie becomes ...
Today, when I feel—
Sad. Scared. Confused. And Mad
All rolled into one ... and
All of that negativity makes me feel
Anxious to the point overwhelming
My conscious mind—I realize that
Something is triggering an episode of PTSD, which is
In some bizarre way related to Janet's death or to
The 'secret' abuse that I'd repressed from
Conscious awareness, over most of my life—because
Both of those terrifying, unprocessed experiences made me feel
So bad, unlovable and unsafe as to create anxiety beyond reason ...
And anxiety beyond reason defines PTSD to a tee ...
As it's not unusual for combustible emotion to
Ride out on a river of tears while
My conscious mind is working to
Identify, understand and gain control over
An episode of PTSD, Will, working to
Comfort me, asks me questions, which encourage
The logical side of my think tank to
Engage with his until adrenalin production
Subsides, freeing the intelligent, brainstorming portion of
My mind to feel calm enough to
Pick up my iPad, click on blog and
Contemplate strings of insights by
Reviewing my last few posts, while
Will turns over and goes to sleep
And while I'm reviewing posts
Previously penned, new insights ignite, and
Thus do I write in the dark of night, suggesting that
Intuitive thought pens as much for my edification as
For those of you, who choose to
Work your way through many of my complex
Streams of conscious thought before
My confusion clarifies during the editing process
Though it's true that, generally speaking
New strings of insight—which eventually permeate
My sense of logic with self confidence, concerning
My mental strengths—calm the agitated reaction of
My conscious mind, that was not the case when
This post was written, several weeks back
In fact, while reading through previously published posts in
The dark of that particular night, I felt
A primal sense of dread breaking through my wall of denial
And as insight into a very scary, deeper truth
Hit my conscious mind with the knockout power of
A brick cracking open my head, Will awoke as
I heard myself exclaim aloud:
Will—I'm terrified of old age!
And when I look in the mirror, I see my mother!
But Annie, why would that terrify you?
Your mother was beautiful.
Will, I didn't mean that literally
I love it when people say I resemble her
I'm not talking about my mother's beauty
And I'm not talking about the side of my mother
That knew to turn a brave face to the world after Dad died
I'm referring to the mother who had no clue that
She'd misdirected so much of
Her frustration and unhappiness at me
I'm thinking of all the frustration I'd stuffed
Year after year, in hopes of
Relieving Mom's loneliness with loving kindness
I worry about where much of my repressed frustration, which
May still be pent up, deep inside subconscious pockets of
My mind, may be released as we continue to grow old
I'd thought to have worked through my sadness and anger, but
Intuitive thought is suggesting that's not true
Just as Mom had no clue that she was not true to herself, through
And through, after Dad's death, I had no clue that
I was not true to myself, either!
Mom denied taking her anger out at me
And I denied how angry I was at her—
I mean, how could I not deny my anger?
What kind of daughter gets angry at a mother she adores, once
That mother is nearing 100 years old??!!!
When we hide the truth of our emotions behind denial's walls
Our conscious minds can't be true to the turbulence of
Emotional reactions that our defensive systems repress deep inside ...
After Will and I listened to my repressed fear voice itself aloud
Will said: Annie, you're not looking like your mother as much as
You're sounding like her!
To which my strong sense of conviction replied ...
Will, I think you're confused, because you're not
Hearing what I'm saying. What I'm referencing has
Nothing to do with my looks ... and actually
I'm not sounding like my mother, at all
My frustration is focused on my inability to
Create change for the better while
Mom was still alive, just as she couldn't create
Change for the better when her mom was alive
My fear is focused on the negative momentum of
The on-going power struggle in our extended family, which
Though not mine to resolve
Tries to keep me entangled in a web of pain that
Has done nothing but worsen over these past FORTY years
Years ago, I reached the point where I could no longer listen to
Same-old-same-old without losing my hold on sanity, and
Here's how my mindset DIFFERS from Mom's:
Whereas I continue to own up to the depth of my emotional reactions
My mother's defensiveness repeatedly denied ownership of
Her negative reactiveness, which dropped on me, after
Dad passed away
In fact, Mom's denial of deeper truth, concerning
Her anger and fear at being left alone for the first time in
Her entire life, made conversations between us grow ever more
Frustrating, year in and year out.
As long as Mom's anger and fear hit
Her wall of denial, confusion reigned supreme, and
Nothing I said or did in hopes that common sense might
Soothe the tension, which arose between us, made
Sense to her, at all, and
As she continued to deflect any attempt on anyone's part to
Brainstorm toward solutions, which require clarity, concerning
Reality, eventually, all I could do to minimize my frustration was
To be quiet, hold her hand and tell her
How much I loved her and that she was the family treasure, but
My hope to minimize her frustration ... and mine ... met with success for
Only minutes before she'd initiated conversations, which
Never failed to cycle round toward denial and
Frustration, again and again. And again—till I thought I'd lose my mind.
Who would believe that each time we were alone
Mom's conversations revolved around
Loss and death, and as nothing I'd said could
Keep her spirit afloat, I'd drop her off and watch my spirit
Drown in my tears while driving myself home
Thank God, I sought out therapy when she'd denied needing it!
Because therapy led me to be diagnosed with episodes of PTSD for
This reason: Each time I tried to connect with Mom in a meaningful way
And failed—the subconscious reaction of the three year old child, who
Had been unable to inspire her mother's smile to reappear—took
Control over my logical mind—and until therapy encouraged me to
Create new, healthy patterns for my neurons to travel—I was
Unknowingly as lost in the past as was Mom!
And then, things went from bad to worse, for this reason:
As long as Mom remained in denial, while I worked to recognize where
I was in denial, our state of emotional turmoil worsened—until
I learned to differentiate my reaction from hers without separating from
Spending time with her. And as that period of transition, on my part
Demanded more courage than I could believe ... eventually
My mental processes wore out, because in addition to our confusion
I was taking care of David, whose recovery from
Wwo spine surgeries, ten days apart, had
Left his neurosurgeon in a quandary
As to whether our youngest son would ever be able to function without
The intensity of pain that was driving him half out of his mind ... and
Somehow ... all of these memories, converging, together, are
Causing me to feel terrified about what may be
In store for me and our sons as I continue to age ...
At this point, I know that this bout of anxiety won't let loose of
My mind until I can pull today's train of thought into
The station where I can unload this heavy sense of baggage, concerning
Fear of aging, which my subconscious has been lugging forward
(Probably since I was a child, watching my grandma's vulnerability
Weighing heavy on my mom's mind, day in and day out)
I think tonight's vulnerability may be offering me the key that will
Open my conscious mind to receive whatever this subconscious fear about
Aging proves to be, and once that insight into
Familial patterns of aging soaks into my conscious mind, my fear will be
More easily contained for this reason:
So far, I've worked through conflicts with my sons by
Conversing in mutually respectful ways that differ greatly from
Familial patterns of dominance vs. subservience with which
I grew up, suggesting that
As I age, the depth of my awareness of my sons' need for wings
Will NOT disappear into thin air if I find myself old, widowed and alone ...
And by jove that's it! The insight I've been questing toward!
And as this post has just pulled into the next station in
An unending line of stations
Let's press pause, right here, so that
Today's train of thought—concerning my fear of aging as did
My mom or her mom or my dad's mom or Will's mom—
Has time to percolate until my peace of mind, concerning
My personal pattern of working to strengthen my mind and
Nourish my spirit, has brewed into such a richly roasted insight as to
Re-energize my self assurance with this fact:
It has been my history to expand narrow mindsets absorbed during
My youth as I carve out my own positively focused path upon which
My old lady neurons will tap dance—not just in public—but
Most importantly, in future years when
Each of my sons chooses to enjoy
One-on-one time with their dear, dotty, corny, old mum ... :)
Just as streams of intuitive thought (which
Deepen my awareness of personal
Traits, attitudes, mindsets, fears, values and
Beliefs that are processing through
Transition from one stage of emotional growth
Toward the next) inspire me to experience
Aha! moments that lift my spirit, there are times when
An Aha! moment causes anxiety to spike ...
As transitional change may generate pain before gain ...
It's not unusual for Will to comfort me on
Those nights when I can feel intuition stirring
My awareness to grapple with an insight, concerning
A vulnerability, which I'd denied as my own, and
While this insight into deeper truth is
Determinedly attempting to permeate my wall of denial
My conscious mind can't help but feel anxious about
Acknowledging a trait, attitude, mindset, fear or belief that
My subconscious is about to expose before
Readiness to consciously accept this awareness is mine
As the naked truth is often hard to accept
It's not unusual to see anxious tears
Cascading down my cheeks before I can
Pinpoint that which is causing my mind to
Feel so heavy as to drag
My high flying spirit to flag at half mast
If you ask what causes tears to flow from my eyes?
I'd reply: Grief
If you ask grief over what loss?
I'd reply:
A sense of loss is experienced each time
A vulnerability, which my ego
Had denied as my own, slips through
My defensive wall of denial, and
I come to see that this vulnerability, which
Had been tucked into my subconscious while
I'd judged others (who had openly demonstrated
This insecurity) as being lesser, somehow, than me until
Insight into self awareness forced my eyes to
Open so wide as to see myself as I really am ... And
Each time an expanded view of myself proves not so
Pretty a picture as I'd previously painted of myself
My sense of loss feels as sorrowful as
My ego feels shamed ... Until
My friend, Humility, comforts me by
Reminding me to stop beating myself up in favor of
Being as kind to my admission of ownership of
Every human vulnerability as I would with a friend
And each time my intelligence rescues me
From roasting my humiliation on a spit in the fires of
Damnation, overlong, my sense of
Dignity and grace embrace this
Newly identified vulnerability, and once
It has been integrated into my conscious mind
My sense of wholeness regains it's
Lost sense of inner strength and that which
Has been lost and recovered countless times is
Yet again, mine ... And if you ask:
Annie what has been lost and recovered
Each time you accept a vulnerability, which
You'd denied as your own?
I'd reply:
That which is recovered, over time, proves to be ...
My peace of mind ...
Though Will understands the fact that
'Something' that happens, today, can trigger
An attack of PTSD, causing anxiety and
Sorrow to surface from
A subconscious pocket in an unidentified state
It's natural for my husband to ask:
Annie, what's wrong?
This time, my initial reply was not: I don't know.
This time, I replied without hesitation:
'Everything and nothing, rolled into one' ...
Next thing I knew, intuitive thought took center stage
And upon opening my mouth
I felt every bit as surprised as Will to listen to
The emergence of subconscious fear speak aloud:
When the kids were young
I'd contemplate how best to
Encourage each one to open up to me in hopes that
My adult sense of logic could offer a child's mind
Reason to muster the courage to
Set defensive bravado aside in favor of
Brainstorming with me until clarity offered us
Insight into what might cause another child to
Purposely pour salt into my child's
Wounded emotional vulnerabilities, which
For the most part, are common to one and all
During their youth, I coached
Barry, Steven and David to absorb five tools necessary to
Rebalance their strong emotional reactions before
Their composure got too far out of line ...
Though I've modeled those tools for all three
Lately, I feel need for an effective coach to
Empower me to maintain control over MY reactions when
The one who feels more vulnerable than I can believe is ME!
Like, right now, I feel sad. Scared. Confused. And Mad—
All rolled into one ... and
Since so much negativity coursing through me
Feels overwhelming, my spike in anxiety
Is signaling my adrenal glands to
Release so much adrenalin that all I can think to do is
Fight, flee or freeze, suggesting that
A smoke bomb of confusion causes all sense of
Logical thought to fall apart, suggesting my having
Become so limbic as to feel as scatterbrained as
Chicken Little, who ran around shouting:
The sky is falling! What shall we do?
I think it's important to note that there are times when
My power of intuitive thought gets busy unpacking
An unprocessed piece of subconscious baggage before
My conscious mind has mustered the courage
To fortify itself with this fact:
Historically, I've learned to embrace
Insight into deeper truth, concerning
Unprocessed insecurities (which have
Caused 'the adult Annie' to feel as bad and unlovable as
I'd felt all those years ago, when Janet died and
Three year old me felt terrified, because ...
No matter how winsome I was, no smiles shone
Beams of sunlight in my direction for
A much longer expanse of time than
The deeply confused mind of
A small, frightened tot could fatham—
I mean seriously, small children are so
Egocentric as to blame themselves for
Everything that happens, and if
Swirling forces of grief and anger
Permeated the emotional environment of
Our apartment, week after week after week
I must have done something too terrible for words!
In fact, at three, I had no words to express
The complexity of that which
I'd felt and feared most of all:
I was such a bad girl as to have condemned myself
Unworthy of love ... However ...
Since my sense of logic was too undeveloped to process
Any thought that proved as complex as that
This unprocessed fear of seeing myself as
Unlovable settled into a subconscious
Pocket of my mind, and every since I was three
Any anger that fingered me as lacking in perfection
Triggered that subconscious reaction to
Emerge in the form of PTSD—which
Blindsights the most intelligent mind with
Irrationality, no matter how old and educated
Three year old Annie becomes ...
Today, when I feel—
Sad. Scared. Confused. And Mad
All rolled into one ... and
All of that negativity makes me feel
Anxious to the point overwhelming
My conscious mind—I realize that
Something is triggering an episode of PTSD, which is
In some bizarre way related to Janet's death or to
The 'secret' abuse that I'd repressed from
Conscious awareness, over most of my life—because
Both of those terrifying, unprocessed experiences made me feel
So bad, unlovable and unsafe as to create anxiety beyond reason ...
And anxiety beyond reason defines PTSD to a tee ...
As it's not unusual for combustible emotion to
Ride out on a river of tears while
My conscious mind is working to
Identify, understand and gain control over
An episode of PTSD, Will, working to
Comfort me, asks me questions, which encourage
The logical side of my think tank to
Engage with his until adrenalin production
Subsides, freeing the intelligent, brainstorming portion of
My mind to feel calm enough to
Pick up my iPad, click on blog and
Contemplate strings of insights by
Reviewing my last few posts, while
Will turns over and goes to sleep
And while I'm reviewing posts
Previously penned, new insights ignite, and
Thus do I write in the dark of night, suggesting that
Intuitive thought pens as much for my edification as
For those of you, who choose to
Work your way through many of my complex
Streams of conscious thought before
My confusion clarifies during the editing process
Though it's true that, generally speaking
New strings of insight—which eventually permeate
My sense of logic with self confidence, concerning
My mental strengths—calm the agitated reaction of
My conscious mind, that was not the case when
This post was written, several weeks back
In fact, while reading through previously published posts in
The dark of that particular night, I felt
A primal sense of dread breaking through my wall of denial
And as insight into a very scary, deeper truth
Hit my conscious mind with the knockout power of
A brick cracking open my head, Will awoke as
I heard myself exclaim aloud:
Will—I'm terrified of old age!
And when I look in the mirror, I see my mother!
But Annie, why would that terrify you?
Your mother was beautiful.
Will, I didn't mean that literally
I love it when people say I resemble her
I'm not talking about my mother's beauty
And I'm not talking about the side of my mother
That knew to turn a brave face to the world after Dad died
I'm referring to the mother who had no clue that
She'd misdirected so much of
Her frustration and unhappiness at me
I'm thinking of all the frustration I'd stuffed
Year after year, in hopes of
Relieving Mom's loneliness with loving kindness
I worry about where much of my repressed frustration, which
May still be pent up, deep inside subconscious pockets of
My mind, may be released as we continue to grow old
I'd thought to have worked through my sadness and anger, but
Intuitive thought is suggesting that's not true
Just as Mom had no clue that she was not true to herself, through
And through, after Dad's death, I had no clue that
I was not true to myself, either!
Mom denied taking her anger out at me
And I denied how angry I was at her—
I mean, how could I not deny my anger?
What kind of daughter gets angry at a mother she adores, once
That mother is nearing 100 years old??!!!
When we hide the truth of our emotions behind denial's walls
Our conscious minds can't be true to the turbulence of
Emotional reactions that our defensive systems repress deep inside ...
After Will and I listened to my repressed fear voice itself aloud
Will said: Annie, you're not looking like your mother as much as
You're sounding like her!
To which my strong sense of conviction replied ...
Will, I think you're confused, because you're not
Hearing what I'm saying. What I'm referencing has
Nothing to do with my looks ... and actually
I'm not sounding like my mother, at all
My frustration is focused on my inability to
Create change for the better while
Mom was still alive, just as she couldn't create
Change for the better when her mom was alive
My fear is focused on the negative momentum of
The on-going power struggle in our extended family, which
Though not mine to resolve
Tries to keep me entangled in a web of pain that
Has done nothing but worsen over these past FORTY years
Years ago, I reached the point where I could no longer listen to
Same-old-same-old without losing my hold on sanity, and
Here's how my mindset DIFFERS from Mom's:
Whereas I continue to own up to the depth of my emotional reactions
My mother's defensiveness repeatedly denied ownership of
Her negative reactiveness, which dropped on me, after
Dad passed away
In fact, Mom's denial of deeper truth, concerning
Her anger and fear at being left alone for the first time in
Her entire life, made conversations between us grow ever more
Frustrating, year in and year out.
As long as Mom's anger and fear hit
Her wall of denial, confusion reigned supreme, and
Nothing I said or did in hopes that common sense might
Soothe the tension, which arose between us, made
Sense to her, at all, and
As she continued to deflect any attempt on anyone's part to
Brainstorm toward solutions, which require clarity, concerning
Reality, eventually, all I could do to minimize my frustration was
To be quiet, hold her hand and tell her
How much I loved her and that she was the family treasure, but
My hope to minimize her frustration ... and mine ... met with success for
Only minutes before she'd initiated conversations, which
Never failed to cycle round toward denial and
Frustration, again and again. And again—till I thought I'd lose my mind.
Who would believe that each time we were alone
Mom's conversations revolved around
Loss and death, and as nothing I'd said could
Keep her spirit afloat, I'd drop her off and watch my spirit
Drown in my tears while driving myself home
Thank God, I sought out therapy when she'd denied needing it!
Because therapy led me to be diagnosed with episodes of PTSD for
This reason: Each time I tried to connect with Mom in a meaningful way
And failed—the subconscious reaction of the three year old child, who
Had been unable to inspire her mother's smile to reappear—took
Control over my logical mind—and until therapy encouraged me to
Create new, healthy patterns for my neurons to travel—I was
Unknowingly as lost in the past as was Mom!
And then, things went from bad to worse, for this reason:
As long as Mom remained in denial, while I worked to recognize where
I was in denial, our state of emotional turmoil worsened—until
I learned to differentiate my reaction from hers without separating from
Spending time with her. And as that period of transition, on my part
Demanded more courage than I could believe ... eventually
My mental processes wore out, because in addition to our confusion
I was taking care of David, whose recovery from
Wwo spine surgeries, ten days apart, had
Left his neurosurgeon in a quandary
As to whether our youngest son would ever be able to function without
The intensity of pain that was driving him half out of his mind ... and
Somehow ... all of these memories, converging, together, are
Causing me to feel terrified about what may be
In store for me and our sons as I continue to age ...
At this point, I know that this bout of anxiety won't let loose of
My mind until I can pull today's train of thought into
The station where I can unload this heavy sense of baggage, concerning
Fear of aging, which my subconscious has been lugging forward
(Probably since I was a child, watching my grandma's vulnerability
Weighing heavy on my mom's mind, day in and day out)
I think tonight's vulnerability may be offering me the key that will
Open my conscious mind to receive whatever this subconscious fear about
Aging proves to be, and once that insight into
Familial patterns of aging soaks into my conscious mind, my fear will be
More easily contained for this reason:
So far, I've worked through conflicts with my sons by
Conversing in mutually respectful ways that differ greatly from
Familial patterns of dominance vs. subservience with which
I grew up, suggesting that
As I age, the depth of my awareness of my sons' need for wings
Will NOT disappear into thin air if I find myself old, widowed and alone ...
And by jove that's it! The insight I've been questing toward!
And as this post has just pulled into the next station in
An unending line of stations
Let's press pause, right here, so that
Today's train of thought—concerning my fear of aging as did
My mom or her mom or my dad's mom or Will's mom—
Has time to percolate until my peace of mind, concerning
My personal pattern of working to strengthen my mind and
Nourish my spirit, has brewed into such a richly roasted insight as to
Re-energize my self assurance with this fact:
It has been my history to expand narrow mindsets absorbed during
My youth as I carve out my own positively focused path upon which
My old lady neurons will tap dance—not just in public—but
Most importantly, in future years when
Each of my sons chooses to enjoy
One-on-one time with their dear, dotty, corny, old mum ... :)
Thursday, July 16, 2015
1359 MY SENSE OF READINESS TO EXPOSE A FEAR FEELS RIPE
2015
Looks like my mind had to process through
The unexpected events of the past two weeks before
I felt free to scroll back to review that post, written
Several weeks ago, concerning an unidentifed fear that
Made itself known to me, which
Several weeks ago, concerning an unidentifed fear that
Made itself known to me, which
Did not feel ready to be exposed for
Public consumption until
My sense of clarity had time to
Consciously absorb this deeper truth:
I can no longer deny
That subconscious fear as being my own
Public consumption until
My sense of clarity had time to
Consciously absorb this deeper truth:
I can no longer deny
That subconscious fear as being my own
Now that my most recent experience with
Life's unpredictability has been
Processed, absorbed and deposited into
My memory bank, intuition
Suggests that
My memory bank, intuition
Suggests that
My sense of readiness may have resolved
Its conflict with publishing that post, which
Its conflict with publishing that post, which
Reveals my vulnerability to you
And with that thought in mind
And with that thought in mind
I'll review that post, today, and
If my sixth sense is on target then
Deeper truth, concerning revealing
This subconscious fear, will
Appear on your screen and mine, when
Next we meet ... Unless life has yet another
Mind blowing, heart-wrenching surprise in
Store for me ... Hopefully, not!
This subconscious fear, will
Appear on your screen and mine, when
Next we meet ... Unless life has yet another
Mind blowing, heart-wrenching surprise in
Store for me ... Hopefully, not!
Wednesday, July 15, 2015
1358 THREE POSTS ARE NO LONGER HALF BAKED
Now that posts 1353, 1354, 1355 are fully baked
You might like to see what my mind has cooked up
And if you choose to take taste tests of all three
It's a sure bet that insights, folded into the mix
Will offer you reason to chew on food for thought that
May lift your spirit and nourish your soul with
A renewed sense of hope, each time
Unresolved conflict in your family comes to mind ...
You might like to see what my mind has cooked up
And if you choose to take taste tests of all three
It's a sure bet that insights, folded into the mix
Will offer you reason to chew on food for thought that
May lift your spirit and nourish your soul with
A renewed sense of hope, each time
Unresolved conflict in your family comes to mind ...
Tuesday, July 14, 2015
1357 LET'S LIGHTEN UP BY REMINISCING OVER GOOD TIMES WITH FAMILY ANDFRIENDS
2015
While I revise two posts (which were penned while my old mindset was transitioning through complex trains of thought, concerning that which was in need of change, before clarity was mine), you may enjoy scrolling through these photos of quintessential americana on parade during the 4th of July celebration, which takes place annually on the main drag, adjacent to the golf course, near our cabin in the tall pines. At least 30 home-made floats passed before hundreds of spectator neighbors, who lined both sides of the main thoroughfare on block after block, where patriotic music, coupled with a perfusion of red/white/blue, created a brain/heart connection that pumped up every spirit until strangers felt bonds of friendship saturating everyone's heart.
After the parade, which was enjoyed by one and all, Steven BBQ'd thick, juicy steaks while his friend, Wade, who loves to cook, created the rest of our succulent Fourth of July feast for fifteen: crab legs, shrimp, potatoes and corn on the cobb, splashed with lemon and melted butter. Yum!
Though our feast may not have been heart-healthy, the company with whom we chose to spend our time proved to be exactly that!
In short order, a glass of vino and a full tummy saw me cuddling up with Ravi for a catnap on the recliner, which proves to be everyone's favorite chair. This photo was taken as I awakened, rested and eager to enjoy the rest of this four day get-away with my precious grand daughter and treasured family and friends!
While I revise two posts (which were penned while my old mindset was transitioning through complex trains of thought, concerning that which was in need of change, before clarity was mine), you may enjoy scrolling through these photos of quintessential americana on parade during the 4th of July celebration, which takes place annually on the main drag, adjacent to the golf course, near our cabin in the tall pines. At least 30 home-made floats passed before hundreds of spectator neighbors, who lined both sides of the main thoroughfare on block after block, where patriotic music, coupled with a perfusion of red/white/blue, created a brain/heart connection that pumped up every spirit until strangers felt bonds of friendship saturating everyone's heart.
Ravi, Steven and Celina
After the parade, which was enjoyed by one and all, Steven BBQ'd thick, juicy steaks while his friend, Wade, who loves to cook, created the rest of our succulent Fourth of July feast for fifteen: crab legs, shrimp, potatoes and corn on the cobb, splashed with lemon and melted butter. Yum!
Though our feast may not have been heart-healthy, the company with whom we chose to spend our time proved to be exactly that!
This picture is worth a thousand Yums!
In short order, a glass of vino and a full tummy saw me cuddling up with Ravi for a catnap on the recliner, which proves to be everyone's favorite chair. This photo was taken as I awakened, rested and eager to enjoy the rest of this four day get-away with my precious grand daughter and treasured family and friends!
Treasure beyond measure!
Sent from my iPhone
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