Monthly Archives: September 2006

‘Til Death Do Us Part

Hubby drinking again last night… didn’t ever seem drunk but after the first drink I get vigilant, after the second drink I get angry. So, today I told him he had to decide what was a higher priority…. his drinking or my feelings of security. I’ve tried everything I can think of to make his drinking not matter to me. Last night when I was looking up Alanon programs I realized just how unhappy I was about it. Alcoholic stepfather + alcoholic father + alcoholic ex-boyfriends  + non-drinking alcoholic best friend who’s husband and mom are also non-drinking alcoholics. It’s just too much to allow me to feel safe.

Kind of interesting though is that drinking at a party doesn’t bother me unless it’s getting out of control…like throwing up or doing stupid shit. Drinking at home distresses me once it goes past one drink. I feel unsafe, i feel anxious, I feel distressed, I feel angry, I feel resentful, I feel my adrenaline rushing, I feel like the floor is not stable beneath me. That may not be his problem, but if I can’t feel safe with my husband, who can I feel safe with? If alcohol is more important than my feelings of safety then there is a bigger problem than my anxiety.

I’ve been trying to figure out what my hubby and I like to do in common so we can just do some “hanging out”. It’s been kind of difficult. We used to have more in common than we do now. What we have in common now is great for the fact that we both like to spend all day just playing games on our computers without getting mad about it, but what’s not great is that it’s not exactly good for “togetherness”.

We used to:
go dancing, go for walks, play cards, play video games together instead of apart, play arcade games cuddled on the couch, watch movies, go out to eat with friends.

Now:
he doesn’t like dancing anymore and I feel too fat, we don’t make time for walks, we don’t play cards or games in general because we can’t just play alone and the family ends up fighting when we play together (we usually played with friends anyhow and that’s difficult to coordinate for lots of reasons now), we can’t find any good arcade games to play together on the couch and i’m not sure we’d make time for it anyway, plus someone is always ready to point out what we’re doing wrong and that’s annoying, I no longer enjoy watching movies due to anxiety issues (my dad has this problem too) unless they are animated pretty much, and we can’t go out to eat too often because we are no longer just feeding two mouths, it’s anywhere from 3 to 5.  And when we DO go for a walk or out to dinner alone or whatever, we don’t really talk. He’s not a talker and I run out of things to talk about. Besides, with my worrying bent, what I do end up talking about is money, kids, scheduling, things that need to get done, etc. We almost never talk about anything meaningful.  It makes me sad. We are both disappointed.

Also:
his idea of how to interact with me and his kids seems to revolve around teasing us. None of us like to get teased. It’s not “good” teasing. It feels bad. People get hurt. He feels lost as to what he did and how not to do it. It’s a mess.

But:
we do love each other greatly and we’re both in it for life, so we’re going to do whatever needs to be done to make it…. it just may take time.


You know, I don’t read Xanga for a day and a half and it takes me 2+ hours just to catch up on my reading. Jeez! I signed in to post and is just now happening and I’m wondering if I remember what I was going to post about anywho.

Hubby and I had a whizbang conversation today about the asshat belligerent teenaged boy that lives in my house and drives me nuts. I use the word conversation loosely here. “What do you want me to do about it? There is nothing I can think of that would work” seems to be a common theme on his part. Aargh!

Hubby and I had a big ol’ fight Monday night because he got drunk. That’s a lot of fun too! On Saturday morning (after he got drunk Friday night) I told him that the next time he got that drunk one of us was going to have to sleep on the couch, because his sleeptalking triples or more when he drinks. I just about strangled him Friday night/ Saturday morning about 2:30 a.m. So Monday night I said, ok, well one of us has to sleep on the couch, because I have to be able to sleep on a work night. I shouldn’t say we had a big ol’ fight really… I think I was the only one fighting. But, I was doing enough crying and arguing for 2 or 3 of us. He swore he only had two drinks and in the end I let him sleep in the bed (though he was disgustingly willing to sleep on the couch if it would help me) and there wasn’t a problem. I kind of hate it when he gets all reasonable while I’m getting all emotional.

Today he is having his first ever individual therapy session with a counselor. I’m really praying that it will be a help for him. This self-medicating, defeatist thing has GOT TO GO!!

Today I got an acupuncture treatment for stress and my nervous system. The whole thing feels out of whack and I just needed the junk vaccuumed out. Can’t find my center with all the debris in the way. Felt WAY better afterwards. My face actually LOOKED relaxed. I have another appointment next Wednesday and then a massage on the Saturday following that.

The decision to start attending church again was TOTALLY the right decision, but dang it’s hard to make myself get up on Sunday morning >.<. I am just NOT a morning person. Also, my small group (Lifegroup) has started back up again after our summer hiatus, and that is a lifesaver. I feel like the rope tow has been tossed out and I’ve got a grip on it and I’m getting pulled back up to a safe and dry place. My friend says she’s been praying for me to come back to church, and I swear a couple of weeks ago I could feel it. I could just hear God saying to my heart, “come back, I miss your presence here, you are straying away from the path I have for you, come and let us worship together”. So I did. And, it feels good.

Speaking of church, I got an email the other day from a friend with this in it:
We pray because we realize that, at the core of who we are, we are incomplete. We have been created to be in touch not only with the natural, but with the supernatural. There is that longing for the divine.
–Richard Peace, professor of spiritual formation at Fuller Theological Seminary

So, prayerfully, I say goodnight and God bless you.


Trust is a gift, try not to break it.

I didn’t write this, and I don’t know if I agree with it 100%, but ….. it’s an ideal to pursue I guess.


Ingredients Of A Healthy Relationship


1. Realism

In healthy relationships no emotions, problems or issues are denied, ignored or avoided from being discussed. Everything is open, honest and based on reality.

2. Honesty
Relationships are built on trust. Trust comes from truth. There is no place for secrets or dishonesty. Lies, denials and secrets break trust. Mending of broken trust is not easy. Enduring growing relationships are created by truth.

3. Friendship
The basis of all relationship is friendship. This includes relationship between spouses, parent and child, lovers, friends. Without friendship, even passionate romance cannot endure because the risk to use each other then becomes exploitation.

4. Security
Everyone needs at least one true friendship (relationship) to feel safe and secure. Love is the key to true security in relationships. Insecurity is fear, and “perfect love casts out fear” according to 1 John 4:18.

5. Vulnerability
Relationships die where there is cautious and guarded wariness. Relationships can grow where there is freedom to be vulnerable. This requires trust and confidence that our hurts, dreams, secrets are safely kept by another. Then we can disclose our deepest selves without fear.

Each of these ingredients is intertwined with the other. Realistic, open, true relationships are honest. Honesty fosters trust. Trust results in security – lack of fear- love, which allows freedom for vulnerability.


To whom it may concern?

To whom do I write?
Myself? I like to think so.
The line blurred when I opened my posts.

When I browse Xanga (rarely)
I see screaming out at me from all sides:
“I hope you like my site!!”
and I think…. who the hell cares?
I couldn’t care less what anyone thinks of my site.
It’s for me. Nobody else matters.
And yet…
And yet, I try to make it aesthetically pleasing.
Is that for my own eyes or for yours?
Again, I like to think it’s for me.

And it’s not like I’m writing things
that I’m dying for the world to know.
It is in fact, private things.
Sometimes the mundane, but sometimes soul-baring.
And those things are so close to my heart,
so fragile, and I put them out there,
out here where anyone can read them.
Yes, some things are too private, and I keep them locked away,
but most of my journal entries are open to see.

And here is the disconcerting, yet beautiful part:
I see you baring your soul too, and its really amazing,
and I wonder how we (as a people, a generation or two, a culture)
have arrived at a place in which we are okay showing
our most tender and vulnerable inner dramas and secrets
to perfect strangers, or to our friends and families,
without even a “FRAGILE: HANDLE WITH CARE” sign
on the door or the outside of the box.

I open my own journal and look to see if I have comments,
if anyone had something to say… hopefully reflecting my entry,
words to bring insight into my mind or yours.
I look forward with eager anticipation each weekday
to read what you have to say,
my newfound friends aquaintances (… what are you to me?)
and when there is nothing new that you have revealed,
I can feel the corners of my mouth turning down in disappointment.

So now to whom am I writing?
To those who are sharing their lives at this point in time,
this brief glimpse into their hearts and the magical connections
that their brains are making every second upon second upon second?
(albeit not purposely with me per se.)
Or to myself for introspection and catharsis and growth
and to see where I’ve come from and to where I am going?

The things I write are many times not things
I would share with my husband, he who should be the bearer,
if anyone should be, of my secrets and longings
and meandering thoughts about the world.
He doesn’t think like I do. He is a concrete thinker.
His world does not include faeries swimming in his veins
or demons nibbling on his toes to the bones inside.


Walking on a hot day and then having to return to work in the same clothes….. ugh.
Love the mp3 player, enjoy the walking, hate the sweatiness.
Must build into my home routine, not work.

I’m already longing for comfy warm PJ’s for the upcoming fall and winter.
Why don’t they make sleepers for adults? Well actually, they do,
but I’ve only seen them a couple of times, and they didn’t look very adult.
More like a costume.
and I suppose climbing in and out of a sleeper to use the bathroom sounds like
quite the bother…. but non-slip booties sewed into my jammies sounds great,
no cold ankles where the chill can creep in.
Maybe L.L. Bean or Lands End has something.
Nick & Nora have tons of cute stuff but I don’t know if it would fit me,
and they are overpriced. I shall start looking about online.

The house feels so much calmer this year at the start of school than last year.
Not having the youngest helps tons. Not having 3 kids in school helps a lot too.
Not feeling guilty if we don’t have dinner at the table is pretty much priceless.

Last night in my online role-playing game I bid on an item for my oldest daughter who plays
in my guild with me because she had disconnected and had to reboot her PC.
I clearly said I was bidding for her, and what her total points available were.
Next thing I know I’m being pronounced the winner.
I don’t need this item. I have a better item.
So I point out that it wasn’t for me, and the guild bully
(who was in charge of the bidding for that item) says
“Don’t bid for someone else or I will kill you.”
I said “Get over it” which was not really like me but I was irritated.
She was the one who didn’t pay attention to what i told her.
A lot of people thought this was very funny that I told her off.
Next thing she says is “You are so dead Mynamehere.”
But she didn’t say another word to me about it.
I was mad!
Apparently I am very protective of my daughter.
If I had tried to bid for someone else I would probably
have been saying “i’m sorry! i’m sorry!” instead.

A guy in my guild who I like to call Rat Bastard (or RB for short) is
apparently not just bothering and harassing me, but several different women.
I’m thinking it’s time to get together and complain about unacceptable behavior.
There is strength in numbers, for volume and for veracity.
I hope they kick him out of the guild! What a jerk!

I am noticing that I’m going through short bouts of depression.
Right now I am not, so I can be more objective.
These bouts last anywhere from a few days to a couple of weeks.
I am taking my medicine as prescribed. When I am not being
depressed, I’m fine. I don’t know if it has something to do with food and sleep,
the weather, the relationships I’m in, or what.

Some people say that anti-depressants stifle creativity.
I think it’s just that being miserable makes it easier to write.
When I’m not being miserable I struggle for the words.
When I’m being miserable the words flow out of me
as though someone else were forming them and I am
only the conduit of expression.

Being madly in love makes it easy to write too, as I recall.
Infatuation is just the other side of depression in terms of emotion though.
They are both out of control emotions that take you to places
that you didn’t intend to go. Creativity pours out of these emotional places.
I used to think I would rather be creative but on a rollercoaster ride of emotion
than to be uncreative but reasonably stable emotionally. 
I can remember thinking this in my mid-twenties.
Fast-forward fifteen years (or so) and I gladly trade
my streams of creativity for a sense of a solid floor beneath me.
I still have those moments of passionate emotions now and again.
That is enough for me.

Some days I can feel the hands of God on my life,
more days I can’t. I think this is my doing, my reluctance
to believe in anything outside of myself, my inability to trust anyone,
my tendency to fall back into my formerly hedonistic life, where
“if it feels good, do it” rules. There is a huge chasm between
“if it feels good, do it” and “does this glorify God?” which is what
my Christian friends suggest I use as a guide to my actions.
I think I end up falling somewhere within that chasm most of the time,
wondering how I got there.

I haven’t been to church since January.
I can’t seem to make myself go if my husband doesn’t want to go.
He enjoys our church and is as awed by our pastor as I am.
(He really is THAT good… he’s inspiring, and I believe speaking the words of God.
He doesn’t promote religion, he promotes a relationship with God, with Jesus, with the Spirit or Counselor.
He doesn’t promote his church as the only answer, but he wants it to be a unifying place bringing together
those who cherish the Word, those who cherish the Spirit, and those who don’t want anything to do with
organized Religion, but still thirst for Jesus. He’s funny and real and has problems and doubts and all those things.)

He (husband) just doesn’t want to have to get up on a Sunday morning and leave the house.
And to be perfectly honest, neither do I.
There was a Saturday evening service for awhile,
but they are discontinuing that.
However, Saturday night is no better than Sunday morning.
Tuesday evening sounds pretty good.
Hey! What about Tuesday guys?? ^.~

I should probably be working instead of rambling on with my stream of consciousness writing here……. *sigh*


This pretty much says it all….

Pearl S. Buck, (1892-1973), recipient of the Pulitzer Prize in 1932 and of the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1938, once said about highly sensitive people:

“The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this:
A human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive.

To him…

a touch is a blow,
a sound is a noise,
a misfortune is a tragedy,
a joy is an ecstasy,
a friend is a lover,
a lover is a god,
and failure is death.

Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create – – – so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating.”

-Pearl S. Buck


Today is….. Better. Definitely Better. So Far. No Guarantees.