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Why are you running away?

tec

Part of my sponsee homework this week was to flesh out my higher power a bit more. Not necessarily to share with Beth, but to have a more tangible and articulated foundation for myself.

Chris and I had this two hour conversation tonight that rocked my night. I love those nights where we set up the computer to watch Heroes, but then fall into deep, connected conversation instead. The world falls away and it’s just him and me in this moment.

And it wasn’t until we had this two hour long conversation that I truly grasped the validity and necessity of forming and articulating your higher power. In part for myself, which I’ll expound on in a minute, and in part for Chris because he’s been in this process of working his fourth step for a couple months now. And it’s completely his journey and I want him to walk it as such, and at the same time, I know it’s been a hard process–one I don’t have experience to speak on–and it’s been on my radar that he hasn’t written anything yet. I imagine it’s a crazy hard thing to sit and explore and he’s so incredibly brave to even go there. Tonight, with our talking, as I articulated my higher power and he shared how he’s been fleshing out his own, I realized the beauty of the sequence of the first four steps.

How can you write out a “searching and fearless moral inventory” of yourself alone? That sounds terrifying and traumatic. That’s not a process I’d want Chris to endure without a solid higher power. You got a clear picture of your higher power tho? That sounds terrifying and completely doable. That’s the experience I prefer for him.

I haven’t done my fourth step yet. I’m not there. Tonight’s conversation was pivotal to all of this tho. I was saying how I had this solid higher power picture. I was saying my foundation is solid. So freaking solid. But also, I’m a sponsee for a reason and I don’t claim to know all the things. Beth wants me to be able to come to a point of articulation. Cool, I can comply with that. And I even said to Chris, “so while *I* feel I’m set with my higher power picture, Beth, she’s the poker and she comes in to poke at my views to show me what’s strong and what needs work.”

I know my place. Even when I want to snarkily boast about my evolvedness.

So I eloquently tell Chris about my higher power.

My higher power is the universe. I unquestionably view the universe as a thing that will always take care of me without exception. It is always looking out for my best interest, and the best interest of all.

As an added characteristic, I also view my higher power as a parent, who, when I come to it, vulnerable and broken and damaged and hurt, it will always show up with open arms, always wrap me in comfort and will leave no room for me to believe anything except that I am all-loved.

That is my higher power.

(Pretty cool, huh?)

And then, I played Beth in my head for a moment (poke poke poke) and considered “ahh, my higher power only works in the present.”

OH MY FREAKING GOD–

(No pun intended.)

I have spent all this time with a freaking kickass higher power and I only let him play with present me. Oftentimes I think about including him in future me stuff, but it’s not really in a tangible way. Never do I let him interact with past me.

This is where I call upon my inner Julie and allow her to say, “what would it mean to you that the universe was looking out for past Jill?” That past me-the scared little girl me–is safe with the universe. That she was being looked after back then, as well as right now–if I so chose to dive into the psyche of all that.

And I guess my immediate, involuntary response is, “Fuck you, you can’t be trusted. She got hurt and you didn’t look out for her at all.”

……

Well, that was unexpected. I probably have some work to do there. That was very honest and vulnerable of me. I was expecting to go somewhere else with all that. I was expecting that posing the question would bring a sense of relief and provide an immediate safe haven where past Jill could come out to play and heal.  I expected immediate growth here and the opportunity to wrap it up in a neat little bow and call it a day. Figuratively and literally.

Instead I think I’m just going to call it a day and sleep instead. And think on this again tomorrow. There is time for forgiveness in tomorrow.

xo.

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Take these broken wings.

tec

Earlier this week I caught some of a fb live Kendra Hennessy was doing. She mentioned having just written down a rabbit hole into unbearable old hurts. Things she forgot but her mind didn’t that she still holds onto 10+ years later that make themselves known in weird random ways. She mentioned how she only gets there with raw and honest journaling. Diving deep.

I immediately pictured this space. How I come here to write and to dig deep into myself in this unadulterated sort of way.

And then I realized I don’t.

I used to write unadulterated rawness in the Bee book. I used to write that way at Jack’s too. But I don’t rabbit hole rawness here. Which means I’m not rabbit hole’ing rawness anywhere, which is probably a huge problem.

Everything I write here is real and valid. It’s hard and life and easy and random. But it’s not the really deep stuff.

I wrote last week about needing to write about the god-sized hole. How that expression sparked something in me. This week I’ve been listening to podcasts about enneagram 2s and more sparked in me.

If I’m not careful, I’m gonna burn it all down.

Coming soon will be lots of trigger warnings. I’m finally ready.

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I’ll carry these torches for you.

tec

“I’m not going to do extra if you aren’t going to do your part.”

I’ve been struggling with S not listening. For years now. Consequences nor rewards really make any difference. He’ll even weigh consequences to see if it’s worth it.

I know he has special things going on, but I know too it doesn’t have to be this unmanageable.

I have no current memory if I’ve written about the goals I decided for my 12 week class. I wrote about my 12 week class, right? Gosh, I feel so braindead. I have so many posts in my head waiting to be written.

I have four main goals. To have weekly one on one time with Chris and R and S. To get our home decluttered to its completion. To practice and adopt an abundance mindset. To get my official website launched.

One goal that I backburnered was the whole “our family is a team and we all have a role.” I delayed it, not because of its unimportance, but because I want to have a foundation in place first. I think a foundation can best be lain with one on one time. Baby steps. Boundaries are important too tho and this crazy phrase came out of my mouth this morning “I’m not going to do extra if you aren’t going to do your part” and I feel like this might be a turning point for me. It takes it away from S and puts my part back in my hands.

I’ll do my team player part. But I’m not doing extra when I’m not getting basic team playerness in return. And this is where mindshift meets backburnered goals!

I feel really good about this new boundary and affirmation for mindset.

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I can make all the tables turn.

tec

My sweet girls taking over my bed.

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And I got to do an unexpected walmart trip tonight with my favorite girl and her friend! That was fun. I wasn’t keen on the idea of having to go, but gosh, I like spending time with her.

I had a really great weekend. It’s also a four day weekend for the kids. I’ve genuinely enjoyed it so much. I’ll write about it tomorrow tho. I’m so tired. I’m gonna magazine peruse for pictures for my vision board for a little bit, and then pass out.

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Like an ocean that you can’t see.

tec

Funny thing about someone pulling their floor out from under me. My floor is still pretty damn sturdy, so I’m just standing here going “huh…well, okay.”

And now I just kinda got nothing. It could be deft compartmentalization. But really it just feels like…I dunno. Not that.

I re-prioritized my day a bit. I was gonna speed read through an online library book I’ve been wanting to read that’s due back in two days, but I had been on the fence anyway because I had other goal stuff I wanted to get done. So I breathed and centered and returned it early for the people on the waiting list. And I texted my sponsor, I guess just so I could acknowledge that something did happen even if currently I’m okay.

Now I’m gonna get back to my day. Because time ticks on and all the stuff has to get done whether people make un-ideal choices or not.

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I knew every back road and every truck stop.

tec

My sponsor assignment for the week is to take five minutes each day to be still. She wants me to have the opportunity to find contact with my high power.

It’s a good plan.

Last week, which I don’t think I mentioned, she wanted me to define unmanageable. As a follow up I’m supposed to think about the things I can’t control that lead life to feeling unmanageable. Because unmanageable and control are linked.

She’s a really good sponsor.

Truth be told? I knew I wanted her my very first meeting. (Maybe second.) She said something that sparked for me and I knew she’d be it for me.

The hard al-anon thing for me is that I have a hard time feeling like I belong there. My story often doesn’t touch or significantly overlap others’ stories. My story sometimes doesn’t feel “enough”. But we are all cut from the same cloth. I still find things there I need, and as they tell me, I apparently provide things they need. It’s never been a question of not continuing to go. I go and that means I grow. Nothing wrong with that.

My sponsor talks about how this sponsor/sponsee relationship is sacred and unconditional. I can share anything, as a safe space. And she will always show up. And part of me just kinda wants to cry. ‘Cause isn’t that, like, every damn thing I’ve ever wanted? But then another part of me is like, “why on earth would you do this without me paying you?”

She talked randomly on Saturday about something called “a god-sized hole”. How people hope that their partner can fill this hole they have, but no one ever can. ‘Cause it’s a god-sized hole. It made a lot of fireworks go off in my head and I have things to say about it. But not tonight. Because I need sleep.

Good night, ever shifting plates buried deep beneath my feet.

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Out on your corner in the pouring rain.

tec

Welcome to the third edition of The Basement Chronicles.

I haven’t worked on the basement in a few days, but I want to catch up on all my progress down there.

Also, as a sidenote. All of this work was accomplished while listening to Rise Together. What an inspiring and entertaining podcast.

Progress #4. (2.16)

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I cleaned off the play table and the dresser. I organized the 3×3 of toys, but currently it’s mostly papers/school supplies. I added a bookcase and unpacked a box of kid books.

Progress #5. (2.18)

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I don’t have a before shot of this. It had previously been boxes and boxes of dvds and random stuff and I don’t even remember what. But I cleared out the whole space and it was empty and amazing. I don’t have a shot of that either. Then I moved the clothes totes here from the front room and went through a couple boxes from the front. It seemed like a good place to temporarily store the luggage too.

Progress #6. (2.19)

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Holy smokes!

And an updated view of the front room.

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Chris was inspired by my work downstairs and he wanted to declutter and beautify his work area downstairs too! I don’t have a picture of that, but some of this trash is his and I’m so fucking proud of him.

This week I am committed to making space to work through some of my 12 week Kendra program stuff. Also, my sponsor gave me new homework and I’m going to devote time to that too.  I’ll write about both of these soon.

Off to sleep now!

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Illuminate the blackest nights.

tec

It’s fascinating what a difference a day makes.

Thursday was a day. Thursday was such a day. It hurt. It was also a day of growth that propelled me into today. Maximum amount of growth from a maximum type of experience.

This morning someone said something that reminded what Chris and my communication looked like at the start of our relationship. There was an obscene amount of us being present for one conversation, but experiencing two wholly different conversations. Our very different sets of experiences and baggage provided very skewed filtered translations of our words.

I’d repeat back to him what he said, but really what I was repeating back was what I heard (how I translated it), and he wouldn’t understand what the hell I was talking about. Or worse yet, I’d tell him and he’d get mad I took it that way, which only served to make me feel more terrible. Or sometimes I would have said something once and maybe even off cuff, and then a year later he’d be like “well, I’ve never done this thing because this one time you said you didn’t like it”…. and I’d have no recollection of saying that and would have had no issue with this random thing he wanted to do, but had never done.

We spent a lot of time navigating that. Until we maybe didn’t have to navigate it so much? And we were just on the same page most of the time.

And then life, as it is wont to do, got bigger and deeper and more layered. And perhaps we took the communication for granted and the translators surfaced again unbeknownst to either of us.

There are things that I felt on Thursday–things I wrote–that are totally valid. And then there are other things that were filtered through a broken translator. Things that were filtered through pain I have compartmentalized and avoided. It doesn’t make them any less valid. It doesn’t make them any less real. It just makes them…not the truth.

Part of the defective translator is my long past experiences and apparently not having properly explored them. There have been times I felt slighted or dismissed or overlooked and I react from those moments. Not because I’m mad. But because it hurts. I support him because it’s in my nature to do so. I want to feel it in return. He is supportive in other ways, but it’s not the same to me.

Another aspect is a fresh wound. The fresh wound has been something I haven’t wanted to peel the bandaid off of to look at yet. I haven’tbeen ready. I don’t know what I’ll find exactly and also I don’t know whose help I’ll need to employ. Will a nurse do? Or do I need a surgeon? Can the wound be cleaned and heal with time or is the whole limb a lost cause? Will the body survive the loss of limb? So, I keep the bandaid on.

And mostly it is fine.

Every now and again “mostly” leaves and “not fine” shows up.

For now, I know that no matter the solution I choose for healing it, I need to make the choice soon.

I tangented tho. The point I was wanting to make is that Thursday I translated communication through my pain (and maybe Chris translated through his something as well) and I was inaccurate. He didn’t think the enneagram was stupid and he didn’t think me stupid for having interest in it. He took a quiz today and listened to some of the Rise Together podcast episode about it and seemed genuinely interested in it, just the way that I hoped. And I hoped it because he is such a bright light and for too long he has been trying to dim himself.

And I guess now begins some me/us work because all the things I’m feeling and protecting just under the surface only serve to dim bright light as well.

I’m nothing if not the girl who finally catches up to remember I practice what I preach.

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Tap on my window; knock on my door.

tec

This hilarious thing happened. Where I was listening to the Rise Together podcast and Rachel and Dave were fucking geeking out about their enneagrams and I wanted in on it, despite having previously been vehemently (read: quietly) against taking the quiz. So I stopped the podcast and took a quiz. And apparently I had gone and decided some expectations beforehand because of all of my growth and accomplishments. I thought my results would give me further fuel to kick ass and take names amidst my personal growth journey.

And then I got a 2.

And I was like “what the shit is this?!”

Here I’ve been working on personal growth and growth mindset and so much me me me for a really long time and now I have this thing in front of me saying I do everything for everyone else and at my expense and to top it all off, I disrespect others’ boundaries.

I was not pleased.

To add insult to injury, I had been chatting with Chris about it beforehand and I felt like he had completely dismissed my everything about it. Which then triggered me to remember the random things he has dismissed in the past that mean something to me.

(Side story. The first time was back in 2014 when I went to a neuromusculoskeletal specialist (MD) who gave me an adjustment I was ill prepared for and I experienced my first…I’m not even sure what to call it. I had to navigate trauma that was released from my body. I sobbed. Like, sobbed. The doctor called me a delicate flower and he said it in such a sweet and loving way that he made me feel loved and worthy and strong in a way I had never felt before.

After I navigated this experience I felt so at peace and free and practically giddy and I relayed the whole thing to Chris on the drive home and he was so….mad. And he was so….oversteppingly protective. And then suddenly I felt invalidated and stupid.

This memory hurts. I know he never wants me to feel hurt. I know he wouldn’t want to be the thing doing the hurting. I also know that the reality is, we hurt people without realizing, especially when we ourselves are hurting.

I can view that part objectively. It doesn’t ease the hurt. Both things exist simultaneously.

I don’t purposefully hold onto this. I have never mentioned it to him, tho we did talk about it shortly after it happened. I don’t hold it over his head. It’s not usually any source of resentment or ill feelings. It’s not a chalkboard checklist of ways Chris has done wrong. It’s mostly just a feeling that resurfaces when I feel triggered by invalidation, if I feel unseen, or if there is something I’m interested in that is…not tangible.

The interesting thing to note here is that Chris has interest in things that he himself deems as hokey. It must hurt a lot to follow something, to take stock in it, to have it have meaning to him….and to also invalidate it as crap. I wish he could see that believing in something “other” or spiritually unexplainable doesn’t make him less than.

So it shouldn’t surprise me when he dismisses love languages and enneagram and whatever else could help give him insight into himself or me or our children or the relationships that intermingle all those things.

Also, I want to say, that I have never been anything less than wholly supportive and compassionate about anything he has ever had interest in, be it Jesus/god, when he was super religious, or cigars or pipe tobacco or vaping, for that stint, or when he was blending tobacco or making snuff (ground tobacco) or blending juices and making his own mods. I was present and stood next to him for all of it. Even when he drank. Twice. I show up every time. He could never say I don’t show up. I am there and I support every endeavor and every mistake and every rabbit hole. I listen through every news blip and political rant and all the Joe Rogan and UCF fights and Sargon of Akkad.

And some days I have real, tangible pain that I don’t feel the same in return. Not all the time. Not every day. But enough.

And I know I should say something. And I would. If I had any idea how to. Without it sounding needy or ungrateful or petty.)

So, back to today. I was trying to talk out my feelings about maybe being a 2 (77%). Or perhaps even being a 5 (74%) and he went the route of talking about coding those kinds of quizzes and how stuff like that is easy, and I…I closed off and shut down.

And there was no good way to say “but I want to talk about me”. And…it was such a 2 thing to do and to think.

And even tho it happened 10 hours ago, I’m laugh-crying about the irony and sadness and amusement of it all. I’m certain that any person who was well versed in 2s would say “oh, sweetheart” and envelop me in their arms and I could cry about how much being alive hurts and how much pressure there is and how I never feel seen and usually I’m okay with that, but today it just hurts, and they would get it.

But I don’t know any enneagram people because I don’t feel like I have any connections with people and it is a chasm that deeply aches.

So I’ll cry my good cry and I’ll “through; not around” and I’ll keep chugging along anyway. ‘Cause while I may be a 2, I’m also a fierce fucking fighter and I refuse to ever feel stuck.