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Can I find it in my heart to have acceptance of things I wish were different? And is it true then that I really wish them different after all?


Mindfulness (Photo credit: Cathdew)

I used to be a part of a group at the other mental health office — DBT, dialectical behavioral therapy.  It’s a type of cognitive behavioral therapy intended to stop people from doing self destructive things.  I’m thinking maybe it’s time to get back to it.  There’s a major emphasis on acceptance and being mindful.  These are things I desperately lack.  I lacked mindfulness when I tripped over a bottle and fractured my ankle.  I lack acceptance of the basic facts about my mental health — the treatment, the best way to work with it, the need to accept the limitations inherent.  I lack acceptance often of my baby’s adoption.  It feels unjust although it is very possibly the right thing.  I lack acceptance of some of my own strengths, which causes me to throw away some of the possibilities of achievement inherent in them.

It’s time to reclaim myself again.  I’ve allowed myself to languish too long.  It’s true I’ve needed to recover from my fall.  The fall was a symptom, though.  The way I’ve been acting, I know I’ve been manic or hypomanic recently.  I know Chris hasn’t labeled it as such, but it is blatant to anyone who would pay attention.

I think it’s just been in the past two weeks.

I have a doctor’s appointment this coming week, I believe.  I’ll confirm it.  I’ll make sure I can go.  And I’ll ask the questions necessary. . . set up transportation or see if I’m able to get on the bus safely.

I’m going to be venturing out on my own just down the street with my crutch for the first time since I fell.  I had been nervous because I didn’t want to fall again.  I kind of stayed home.  I think, actually, perhaps I may have made only one other trip.  I forget if I did or not.  I know I’ve gone down to the store with Chris a couple times.  This weekend, he helped me get to the DMV.  He also helped me around the house.

My mood was elevated, and I was overly angry at times.  I was just lecturing.  I’ve also been really serious and intense.  I think these are symptoms, maybe irritability.  I would have to verify, but I really think so.

Anyway, I’ll do what I have to do this week.

My house is stocked with healthy food because a church friend, who’s also the minister’s wife, gave me a ride over to the store again.  She’s really sweet.  They’re moving because her husband didn’t seem to find his true passion with this congregation.  I guess sometimes that’s just how it is.

I’d like to get to church for a little while before they leave.  I’d like to move up in my independence, maybe drive myself there.  I need to find some kind of efficient way to get over there.  I’ll work it out.  I feel it’s an important part of my life.

Next month, April, is a big month in my life always.  It used to be the end of the year was somehow significant because my birthday was in Christmas time and because my grandfather’s was just around Thanksgiving.  The whole season was packed more than anything.  Now April is my wedding anniversary (10th), my father’s birthday — God rest his soul (5th), and my son’s birthday (24th).  Last year, on my father’s birthday, my son was taken out of my custody.  That was the last day that I cared for my son in my own home.

Is it tragic?  I could say it’s part of what I had a feeling would happen for some time before it did happen.  I just had an intuition that this was not going to be an easy road, that there would be roadblocks, and probably it would not go smoothly.

When I found out I would be pregnant, I was asked whether I wanted to keep the baby, put him up for adoption or — terminate.  I knew for a fact I would not terminate him; that much was certain.  I’m pro-choice in general, but I knew I would not kill my own.  I remember lying on the hospital bed where I was when I found out.  I just stayed in bed and got up to walk around, drink chamomile tea a bit.  I don’t remember if they removed all my meds or not.  All I know is that I accepted it.  I accepted the plan that I felt was not completely my own but that had been a choice I made one way or another.

I am so glad I accepted that.  I am so, so glad.  I would never have had any part of this road change other than maybe the fact that David had to go through so much medical strife when he was first born, in the first six months of life.  I would always have chosen to give birth, to raise him if I could, and if it was not workable, if he was not getting what he could from me — I knew I would have to let go and let him have the life he deserves, the best life possible.  This is what I’ve always known deep down, and this is why I made that initial choice.

Now I know.  I know I made the right decision, and I know that everything is for the best.  It’s amazing to say that at long last.  I just know everything will be fine.  And I’m grateful, so very much.


(accidentally posted twice

[Was having trouble posting this.  Anyone who read this version, go see the other one, thanks.]

Some Things Just Are Not Important

Sometimes my husband and I quarrel over the silliest trifles.  Gameboys, brunches, bread, dinners, and these become names, and the names become volcanoes of venom that would probably end it all if we weren’t the small amount of careful that we are.  We walk a fine line between love and hate.  But we never hate each other.  We always love each other, but maybe it’s what we define as being love that changes our perception of one another.

This goes back to something the minister’s wife told me, recommended to me at one point: A group, kind of therapy but in someone’s private house, kind of a workshop, involving restructuring one’s expectations including what we want versus what is necessary.

For example, I might think it is necessary in my definition of love that my husband leaves here every time he goes away with a kiss and a very long goodbye.  I might think it necessary that he does little things for me around the house.  I might think it also necessary that when we get home from a day together that he would want to spend even more time together.  But no, maybe he just wants to spend his time with his Gameboy, and that’s all right.  He can do that.  I need to respect that.  There’s nothing wrong with him playing a game and me writing or working or watching a movie or reading.  Neither is better.  I don’t need to judge our time together.

I don’t need to be so dramatic.  Drama sucks, and I need to be mindful of its effect on people.  I have a tendency to be melodramatic even if I don’t admit it.  That can affect our relationship.  It can make it harder for me to accept situations in our lives.

Simple.  One of my New Year’s Resolutions was to be more simple.  I think I’m going to take some time out after doing chores today and working out to write some more about my resolutions.  Also, I’ll let my thoughts out about my son.  I can’t bottle them up, but I don’t need to talk about them every waking moment with Chris.  Balance.

At Least I’ve Got Some Wisdom? …. And maybe that’s enough to see me through

That’s what my mother told me when I told her I had to get my right upper wisdom tooth out.  It turns out that it’s going to be the one on the left as well.  I’ve already had both lower ones out when I was 18, so that’s bye bye to the wisdom teeth.  After that, the oral surgeon will check that the one next to the right wisdom tooth did not have its root surface eroded by the pushing of the wisdom tooth.

My husband and I have been discussing the pros and cons of moving back together, or rather, him moving in with me.

We are now coming to the conclusion that it is true what Katherine Hepburn said about men and women living next door (see quote below for details).  You think I’m joking?  Really, I’m serious.  If you visit Wikipedia, it will tell you that in the U.K. around 10% of couples and in Australia, Canada, and the U.S. up to 9% of couples participate in a non-traditional relationship arrangement sometimes deemed Living Apart Together (L.A.T.).  The wiki article was not specific, but it seemed this arrangement could take a number of forms including married couples, although that was not explicitly discussed.

There are specific pros to this that others may not anticipate.  Christopher could get Section 8 housing (in the same complex as me), be  able to spend time with me when we both have time to spend, we could have our homes the way we like them while still being able to be in the same space a lot of the time, we could share meals together without doing so every time.  Christopher could have me cook for him if he likes or eat the meals he likes to eat on his own.  He could have his mother over without me there.

Naturally, I am not comparing myself to Katherine Hepburn.  I am only relating to the quotation, of course.  In this instance, it seems to fit as a concept nicely.  I’ve always been resistant to unusual circumstances, but you know, that still doesn’t ever have seemed to have stopped them from catching up with me.

Sometimes I wonder if men and women really suit each other.  Perhaps they should live next door and just visit now and then.  ~Katherine Hepburn

Publications and Prayer

My blog lay stagnant like fallen leaves upon a still, cold winter’s ground. It froze, but it is resuscitated. Life it has once again, hallelujah! I sound overdramatized, don’t I? It is no matter, really. No, it’s not. It’s not in the slightest.

My husband has been worried that I stay up late. I am fine. I am going through a night owl phase, and it will correct itself when it needs to do so. That is not a great concern. I am enjoying being up at night for the moment. That is not an issue that needs solving. I can control this. I am strong. I am a strong and capable woman, and I have all I need to succeed in life. I have not always believed so in the past, but now I know so. Now I am certain. I am no pushover. I am secure in my being for once in my life. It’s a very nice, wonderful, empowered feeling.

There is so much I can do with this feeling. There is so much I can do with this new sense of myself. One is that I have written a children’s book. I have yet to find a market for it. This will come with time. I tried to get the word out through my Facebook page. That was not successful, nor was Google+. I asked at a local gallery that also sells used books. The woman said they might be interested in a local author as well. She said they do have others. My mother said there is still one independent bookstore open in Pacific Grove. I will bring copies around with me to take to establishments in the near future. I just ordered copies recently, but they had errors. I need to order at least one more.

I tried to find writing jobs for short stories and poetry to submit to literary magazines. They did not respond at all. This was somewhat discouraging. I would have at least liked to feel dignified with a rejection letter. Alas, no word from either of them, and I’ve not tried any new ones. I can search around. Apparently, the market is different. All the publications are in online format, naturally. Many of the publications used to be strictly old fashioned printed ones, but no longer. Some have only existed as online “zines.” I would just like to have a chance. I find, however, that since I lack formal training, I am afraid I may not have the skill or style they would be searching for in particular. I cannot be sure.

I wrote one other story, not a children’s story, but it is only just over three pages in length. I do not know if I should post it up into my stories section on here. I will think about it and decide. I probably will end up doing it even though some of the publications will not accept previously published works, even if it’s just to a blog. I like having my writing out in view, though. I am just learning. I like feedback in a way even though I cringe at the idea of people saying what I write is inferior quality. I am very sensitive as most writers probably are about people reading their thoughts. Writing is so very personal.

I have been praying a lot in recent weeks. I was more for a while in particular. I don’t do it every night as I should, but I do it when I think about it. Often, I pray about my father, or I pray to God to keep my father company up in Heaven or wherever he is. I pray that there be an end to the suffering of the world, a thing probably many people would wish for, and I am sure I am not alone in this. I pray for relief from sickness for those I know and love as well as those I do not know from mental illness as well as other serious diseases. I pray for cures for things like cancer. I pray for cures for things like multiple sclerosis, too. My mother has multiple sclerosis. I pray for peace in my marriage, and I pray for an end to hardship within loving relationships. I pray for good in the world, and I pray for miracles, compassion, and love. I have also prayed about a friend of ours who recently died from a drug overdose. He committed armed robbery at a small local pharmacy, then promptly took the pills he stole in a bathroom at a restaurant two doors down, passed up, died that night of the overdose. He was just one year older than me, 30 years old. I pray for him to have peace. I am very spiritual and somewhat religious although I confess I do not know what it really means to be religious. I do not attend church because it is inconvenient for me to go since I have a lack of effective transportation. I wish I could go more often.

I am tired finally. My husband is here. I pray we reunite under one roof peacefully with love for one another for the rest of our lives. I love him so, and I don’t want to be angry at each other anymore. I want us to tolerate and learn to love each other’s little imperfections. I want to learn more compassion for him in times of need. I want to be more giving, more understanding, and I want to be less selfish. I have found I can be quite controlling, and I have my own anger problems that I am not proud of admitting.

Peace, love, good will toward all on this night so close to Christmas and in the time of year where others celebrate Hanukkah or Kwanzaa. I pray for all to find peace and love in this world that has been hurting for so long. Bless us, please, Lord. Amen.

A Confusing Bit of Romance

Temperatures are starting to drop. Although here in the central coast of California, we experience moderate weather and an Indian summer for a couple months, we do have cooler weather as it approaches the holiday season. It really never snows (hardly ever, and when it does, it makes headlines), but it does rain, and it does hail, and even sometimes there are floods. Once when I was 11, I was stuck and could not get home because a flood had gone higher than the bridge that I normally had to cross to get to our house in Carmel Valley. Luckily, in those days (long before people, kids even, had cell phones), I carried an address book in my backpack and called a friend who lived in the village. I stayed with them for the night. The rain stopped by the next day and the flood subsided at the bridge level although there was lots of mud all over the streets. My parents walked up to get me from my friends’ house. We went to the health food store that was in the village back then (no longer exists), then we went home. I am pretty sure there was no power at our house.

Over the weekend, my husband stayed with me. He took me to dinner at Chevy’s Fresh Mex on Saturday. We watched two movies. He may be wiser than me possibly because he always goes to bed early and gets up at the butt crack o’ dawn (as my old friend used to say). No amount of caffeine usually keeps him up past 9:00pm. As for myself, I vary in my sleeping habits. I am neither a night owl nor an early bird 100% of the time. I change up a lot. Lately, I am a night owl. Still, occasionally, I will get up at the reasonable hour of 8:30am. If my husband gets up at that time, he calls that “sleeping in”. If I had to call myself anything, I would call myself a night owl, I suppose, because I prefer staying in bed and having the luxury of being awake until the wee hours. I do not always get this, but such is life.

On Saturday, I submitted my book to the publisher CreateSpace. I already blogged this one. I am excited. Chris keeps saying it will not sell. Negative energy is not encouraging. I wish he would appreciate what I am trying to do. That is all. He thinks I should get a menial job somewhere. He also does not see the value in my education which I worked so hard to achieve. I plan to increase my education, but he does not value it. I have to live for myself on that one. I have to do what is right for myself. It’s a simplistic statement to make, but it is true. I have to make decisions for myself, even when some people in my life are critical. He acts like he is helping by criticizing, but I don’t feel it is a constructive form of criticism. He would not like it if I said things like this about him. He is very sensitive to criticism about himself, yet he does not think twice about debasing me. It is wrong.

My husband’s and my relationship is very uneven at times. We can go from being so mad at each other to being very affectionate in under ten minutes. I wouldn’t call it a love/hate relationship necessarily because I really don’t condone the term, but it has the flavor of a very passionate yet confused bit of romance. That’s about all I can say. We never really get to the point of hating one another. For now, it is probably best that we have our own space. It helps keep things calm. I pray someday we can live together peaceably. Yet being apart is better than being together and fighting every day. That’s the truth. I love my husband, dearly, but we need to be patient with each other and learn to be giving and reciprocating in the way we relate to one another. I feel we have a long way to go yet. It’s a learning process. It will take time, persistence, and as I said, patience.

Christopher keeps saying I don’t love him, and asks if we should Sign Divorce Papers

Just as I was reading another blog here on WordPress (not surprisingly, a blog where people are following it and commenting, unlike my own: Comment, please!), Chris was in my living room watching a movie and he calls across the apartment saying, “You don’t love me, do you?” He was saying this yesterday, too, as we went to bed. He was being a sulky brat, in my opinion. He doesn’t need to do that. It’s confusing.

It’s confusing because at one minute he says he is moving on, the next he says he wants to be friends, yet another time he’ll say he wants to try to work on the relationship and another time yet again he asks whether we should work on divorce papers ourselves. It’s like he’s sending mixed messages, which he doesn’t even own up to doing.

Chris and I have different ideas about relationships, and I don’t know why that is. He says he doesn’t agree that relationships/marriage is work. He thinks work is painful. Should I take it that he doesn’t take the relationships seriously, then? He doesn’t take communication seriously, either, in the relationship. Should I take it that it’s not possible to have a marriage with someone who doesn’t understand what is important to me in one? Maybe he’s not cut out to be married. Maybe I’m asking too much. Maybe I’m being a pushover trying again.