Keeping My Eyes on Christ

I try my best but I can’t win

I’m weak, I lose, it is a sin

Work ’til I drop, to win your love

Enlightened now, I look above

There’s His love, It’s perfect.

After all, it’s not about you

You’re not the one who’s right

I don’t have to be who you want me to be

I’ve finally seen the Light

You keep shoving expectations on me

I won’t keep trying to please you

You keep shoving expectations on me

I’ll choose His love; it’s all I can do.

~ Expectations by Juliet A. Wright

copyright 2009, all rights reserved

In this story, I describe my latest experiences driving in snowstorms and relate them to the codependent snowstorm that was going on in my heart, soul, and mind during an incident at school.

Quite recently I drove through a snowstorm, the likes of which I have not seen since I was a child. I remember years ago, shortly after I had gotten my driver’s license, I drove home to Stockbridge, Vermont from Woodstock, Vermont in a blizzard during which I could barely see two feet in front of me. I think I was on my way home from an awful date with Sam. (See the “Codependency in Romantic Relationships” chapter of my first book Everything Is My Fault for details about my relationship with Sam.) I knew nothing of driving in the snow. Did I have snow tires on? Who knows. I didn’t know anything about studded snow tires versus all season radials, not slamming on your brakes on icy roads, or turning into a skid. I was just driving home in a blizzard with no blizzard-driving training.

There was a different blizzard going on in my head, no doubt about Sam. About how he didn’t love me and why didn’t he love me and why did I give him my virginity and God how I wish I could have it back. I was obsessed and in pain.

Anyway, I drove through several snow storms recently, the last one of which was as severe as that earlier one. The first one came on a Tuesday morning. For our driving pleasure, Mother Nature presented us with freezing rain, alternating with sleet and snow. The real special treat we got thrown our way is black ice. Stopping your car was not possible. At all!!! But we all still had to go to work in it. We still had school, even though we were risking our lives to get there.

The next storm came the same day, after the first of two nighttime concerts I helped with that week. After the first concert, I drove home in the snowstorm. The roads were pretty bad, slushy, slippery, no one around, snow going right into my windshield. I made it home okay, praying the whole time. God got me home safe. Thank heavens that’s over. That’s probably the storm for the week. Right? Wrong!

Wednesday marked another slippery drive to work, but it was better than Tuesday. Just as school was letting out, Mother Nature let loose again with huge amounts of heavy, wet snow. I was scheduled to videotape my mentor’s orchestra concert that evening for the local TV station so I called her to see if it was still on and she said yes. I told her the roads were bad and she said it was fine if I didn’t want to tape the concert. I could just go home.

Being the dedicated person I am, I decided to fulfill my commitments and tape the concert. I wanted to support my colleague and see all my former students perform. So I went to the TV station, got the gear, and headed over to the high school.

The concert was well worth the effort, one of the most moving I have seen in a long time. It was all movie music. The art teacher had her art students do art that portrayed the themes of the movie music the orchestra was playing and these images were shown on the screen while the orchestra played. It was all synchronized so that the music matched up with the art. It was very powerful.

After the concert was over, a parent came up to me and told me the snow had stopped. I was relieved.

The last to leave the auditorium, I packed up the video gear and headed home.

Well, maybe in Pittsfield, it had stopped snowing, but the mountain ride home for me was another story. It was a storm like the night I drove home from seeing Sam. I couldn’t see two feet in front of my face. There was not another soul on the road. Plus I was driving a rental car I wasn’t thrilled with, as mine was in the shop. So I had all season radial tires on, not studded snows. I know a lot of people say it doesn’t matter, but it does to me.

So I was driving about 20 miles an hour up a hill in total darkness, with the heavy snow falling. Along the way, I could barely see any of the landmarks on the side of the road, with the exception of the occasional light of a local business here or there. I mean it was dark, dark, dark.

My heart was pounding and I was scared.

I should stop and get a hotel and get off the road, I thought. This isn’t worth the risk. But the only hotels were either back in Pittsfield, or there was the Econo Lodge a few miles up the road. I worried that I would get stuck turning around, or, worse, go off the road and no one would find me until morning or ever. If I could make it to the Econo Lodge, I would be over the mountain by then and I could probably make it home. So I kept going.

While I was driving and praying for God to help me, I remembered the John Ortberg DVD, If You Want to Walk on Water, You’ve Got to Get Out of the Boat. In this series, he talks about how Peter walked on water towards Jesus. He started to sink only when he took his eyes off of Christ and focused on the storm. As long as he kept his eyes on Christ, he was okay.^[1]

I decided to do the same. I imagined Jesus’ face in my mind. I imagined the color of his eyes. I wondered how long his eyelashes were. What did his teeth look like and how did he brush them? How did he wash his clothes? How did he clip his fingernails? What kind of sandals did he wear and what were they made of? Leather I would guess. Did the sandals have buckles? Did they make buckles back then?

I kept imagining these things, asking myself questions, trying to keep my mind off of how scared I was and the fact that I could go off the road and die at any moment. I thought of how he and the disciples walked everywhere and how dusty their feet were after walking all day. That’s why they had to wash them when they came in to eat with folks because the way they ate their seats were really close to the floor and your feet were kind of close to where other people were eating. I really transported myself to another time and place.

Then I started singing hymns, all that I could remember. (My hymn anthology was in my car, not the rental, unfortunately.) When I ran out of hymns, I started singing them all again.

I also remembered one of my favorite bible verses:

For I the LORD, your God,

Who takes hold of your right hand,

And says to you,

Do not fear, I will help you.

~Isaiah 41:13 (NIV)

I breathed in and out. God is with me. He will guide me home.

I kept this up until I pulled into my beloved driveway. I focused on Christ and it got me home safe. I turned off the car, turned off the lights, and thanked God.

The next day, I had a snowstorm of a different kind. I had a negative interaction with an orchestra student and her mother.

This student, we’ll call her Connie, came into class complaining about where she stands.

“Why do I always have to stand here?” she whined.

“You don’t like where you’re standing? Okay.”

So I picked up her music stand and moved her across the room.

Her comment bothered me on a couple of levels. First of all, I felt like she was being disrespectful. When I was in elementary school, the teachers were much more strict. I would never have dared to complain to them about something like where I was standing or where they put my desk. You just didn’t do that then, or you were punished.

Secondly, I was annoyed at taking up instructional time for something I thought was pretty silly. I was trying to prepare the class for an upcoming concert. The lessons I teach are really short, only 30 minutes long, and that is if the students arrive on time to my classroom with their instruments intact. (Violins are delicate and tend to sometimes fall apart when they are in little hands.) So here I was taking up instructional time to rearrange the physical formation of the class when what we needed to be doing was learning our songs.

Sometimes I find that what’s of primary importance to me is very different than what’s important to an eight-year-old child. I find that to be frustrating. The music and the concerts are very important things to me and deserve our immediate attention. Young students, on the other hand, tend to focus on where they stand, who is standing next to them, who can see them, what they are wearing, and when recess is. I want them to have a good time, but I want us to get our work done too. In an ideal world we can do both but it is very difficult to accomplish this in a 30 minute lesson.

Looking back on it, I probably gave her some body language during the class that was a little intense for her.

The orchestra class Connie is in is a tough class. There are behavior issues in that class and getting through any session without some bumps in the road is typically not possible. So these usual behavior issues, talking out, playing their instruments when I’m talking, not listening, asking for information that I’ve already repeated three times started mounting up. So I complained about it to the students.

“I’m feeling really frustrated right now. People are playing when I’m talking, not listening, not following directions, and complaining about where they stand. I want to play music. I want us to play songs.”

This was good. This was Juliet expressing herself, saying what was true for her in that moment.

Well, that was too much for poor little Connie to handle. Little did I know that she is a supersensitive kid. I spoke with her home classroom teacher later in the day, who told me Connie cried all morning about it.

The next week, I went to tune all of the instruments and I noticed that Connie’s viola was not there. So I went and found her in the lunchroom and spoke to her about it.

“I noticed your viola wasn’t there today,” I told her.

“Yes, I didn’t feel like coming today.”

“Was this because of what happened last week?”

“Yes.”

“I apologize for my part in this. I thought you were being disrespectful. Now I know that this was not the case. I have you standing in that spot because you know what you’re doing. That is a compliment, by the way. If you feel comfortable, I would like for you to come to class today. I will ask Jane if you can borrow her instrument.”

She agreed.

In the meantime, I called her mom and left a message for her to call me about what had happened. Then I sent the mom an email detailing what happened and how I handled it. At this point, I copied the classroom teacher on these emails so she would be aware of how I handled it. I did not send it to the principal at this point.

Connie came to orchestra class and played Jane’s viola. She was smiling when she left and it seemed as though everything went fine. That is what I thought the last time too, though. Connie left the earlier lesson smiling and carrying someone else’s cello on her back. I mean, how do I know what’s going on inside someone else’s head? I don’t. Neither can anyone else. 

That is one thing about codependents. They expect you to know what’s going on inside their head without them telling you. You’re supposed to be psychic and just know. I think society is like that too.

Her mom never returned my phone call. She did, however, reply to my email. Her email was cold, hurtful, and full of blame. This is even after I had included in my email how I had a conversation with the child, apologized for the misunderstanding, how great she was as a student, etc. The parent ignored all the good stuff and just laid blame. She also inferred that I was supposed to know what her daughter was thinking without being told. I was devastated. I obsessed about it for a week.

Then I recognized this as a test from God. Was I going to focus on this world, the people in it and what they think of me? Was I going to tie my self-worth to what someone else thinks of me? Or was I going to do it right and keep my eyes on Christ? 

Then I realized that I have to keep my eyes on Christ, just like I did in that blizzard the night before. I need to be obsessed with Christ, not this kid, not this parent. I can’t get caught up in the things of this world. This world is not my home. I need to keep focused on God and what he wants me to do.

Once again, I recalled that treasured bible verse:

For I the LORD, your God,

Who takes your right hand,

And says to you,

Do not fear, I will help you.

~ Isaiah 41:13 (NIV)

I breathed in and out. God is with me. He will guide me.

Codependency Characteristics that I was exhibiting were:

• What you think of me is more important than what I think of me.
• You are always right, I am always wrong.
• I am less than.^[2]

Actually, what other people think of me is none of my business.

Juliet’s Defects of Character that I was practicing were:

• Your moods and actions are my fault.
• If you hurt, I hurt; I think I have to fix you.
• If you like me, I like me.
• Your customs and thoughts are always right. I’m always wrong.
• I am obsessed with making you happy, with saving you.
• My fear of abandonment and fear of rejection determine how I behave.
  Please don’t get mad at me. I’ll do or be whatever you say.
• I am less than.^[3]

Juliet’s Feelings that I was involved in here were:

• This is all my fault. I did something wrong.
• They are right. I am wrong.
• They are going to abandon me.
• They are going to reject me.
• I don’t deserve good things.
• I am less than.
• I am ashamed.
• I’m bad and now everyone knows it. I’ll be alone forever. 
  I am different from everyone else.^[4]

I attempted several drafts of an email back to the parent, but didn’t feel right about any of them. So I deleted them. My therapist says I should always trust my intuition. If I follow it, I will be right on every time.

A program friend calls it “listening to your gut.” “What does your gut say?” she’ll ask me. She also says to not reply to an email when you’re upset. Write a draft and then sit with it.

So I didn’t reply because I was still upset. I let the situation sit. Good for me! That is recovery. That is practicing a new behavior. That is me not reacting, but observing.

I spoke with my therapist about the situation and she had this to say:

You’re taking too much responsibility for the child’s behavior, the parent’s behavior, and what went on in the class. The way you acted in class was in service to the child. Good for you for telling the class how you were feeling. Don’t make her behavior about you.

Remember the following two important principles:

1.   It isn’t about you, even if it sounds like it is.

2.   Other people’s behavior is not about you, even if it feels like it is.

3.   The only way that their behavior would be about you is if you deliberately set out to hurt the person and you don’t do that.

You’re in a circumstance that is beyond your control. You don’t need to respond to the mom at all, if that is your choice. If the child quits that is her and her mom’s choice. If you choose to respond, do so in the way your administrator suggested. (A previous principal had suggested that I respond to parent emails in a manner that is brief, states my intentions, and opens the door for further communication either in person or over the phone. She advised me not to put in anything that can be distorted, misinterpreted, or used against me. This was great advice. I follow it to this day.)

After a weekend, a therapist appointment, and a conversation with my sponsor, I replied with the following email:

Dear Thea (not her real name):

Thank you for your email. I am always glad to hear from parents. I am sorry to hear that Connie was upset after the May 12 lesson. That wasn’t my intention. She is a wonderful student and I enjoy having her in class. I think it is best to discuss this over the phone. If you wish to reach me, you can call me on Mondays at Emerson School. I look forward to hearing from you.

At that point, after reflecting on the parents’ email response and the entire situation, I forwarded all of the communication to the principal (the classroom teacher was already in the loop) so she would know what was going on. I also told her to speak to me if she had any questions or concerns. I never heard back from the principal or the classroom teacher. No news is good news.

As of this writing, I have not heard from the parent and Connie has not come back to class. I have not approached them again. This is their decision. I am responsible to make amends, to clean my side of the street. I did that. I am not responsible for how someone reacts or responds, nor can I control it. This experience has truly helped me to realize the true meaning of the first line of the Serenity Prayer:

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.^[5]

My therapist is right. I was in a circumstance that was beyond my control. I can’t change how Connie feels, what she thinks of me, or the choices she makes in her life. Nor can I take responsibility for it. I can’t change what her mother thinks of me or fix her email etiquette (or lack thereof). All I can do is choose what I focus on and even that takes work. I can choose how I react and respond. 

Realizing all of this is recovery. It doesn’t mean the pain goes away. I’ve been struggling with this.

I did speak with the guidance counselor and another classroom teacher who were wonderfully supportive. I left their offices with a huge sense of relief. I’m not a horrible person. I am not a bad teacher. I do my best. I am not responsible for this child. I am only responsible for myself.

This also ties into the principle of forgiveness. If I want to be forgiven, I have to forgive this parent. I have had to pray for the willingness to be willing to forgive her because I haven’t been willing. I’m getting there. My inner child was and still is very hurt. She goes back and forth between grief, despair, and anger. Occasionally she wanders into the realm of maybe being able to let it go. 

I know I need to let it go. I keep working on it. I’m almost there. That is the right thing to do. I have to turn it over to God. If I keep my eyes focused on God, and turn it all over to Him, he can fix it. I have to let go and let God. I have to turn it over to him.

I am not responsible for others. I am only responsible for myself. It isn’t my fault. All of this is working to help me with my recovery and rid me of my codependent behaviors. 

Dealing with my obsessiveness in this situation with this child and parent for me is like driving through the snowstorm. I can’t see two feet in front of me regarding what is going to happen. Will I ever be forgiven for whatever it is that they think I did? Meanwhile, God wants me to stay focused on him, not on Connie and her mother, not on the approval of other people or the things of this world. I need to keep focused on Him and what he wants me to do.

Even if I’m alone in the dark, in a snowstorm, in a challenging situation at work, having trouble finding my way, I have to focus on Christ. He will get me through it. He always does.

God has revealed to me that His will for me is to write these books, to write, record, and perform my music, and do my art. My job is to carry these messages to those who still suffer from Codependency, as Step 12 and Tradition 5 address:

12.  Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to other codependents, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.^[6]

5. Each group has but one primary purpose — to carry its message to other codependents who still suffer.^[7]

God’s will for me is to reach out to those who still suffer from codependency. Even if it just helps one other person with their recovery, it will be worth it.

That is me keeping my eyes on Christ.

God if you open the door, I’ll walk through it. This is me walking through the door, into the snow storm. I know he is with me. He is making me into the person he wants me to be.

^[1] Ortberg, John. If You Want to Walk on Water, You’ve Got to Get Out of the Boat: A DVD Study. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2010.

^[2] Adapted from the Family of Origin packet materials provided by the Sequoia Recovery Center.

^[3] Ibid.

^[4] Ibid.

^[5] Serenity Prayer, by Reinhold Neibuhr, 1937.

^[6] Co-Dependents Anonymous. Co-Dependents Anonymous. Dallas, TX:  CoDA Resource Publishing, 2009, p. v.

^[7] Ibid.