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24 Jul 2015
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Honesty

Honesty

 

With love I can see

Their souls search for truth

Eager to leave youth behind.

But can I see?

 

~ In Front of Me from Fearless Moral Inventory,

by Juliet A. Wright, copyright 2008, all rights reserved

 

 

Honesty is one of the most vital spiritual principles in my recovery program. It is the foundation on which my spiritual growth and healing are built. I need to be able to be honest with myself and others about what I can and can’t control. An admission of powerlessness is the first move to getting well. I need to be truthful with myself and admit that I have no power over whatever defect I am dealing with, which right now is mainly over-responsibility and caretaking.
To me, honesty means that I tell the truth as I know it to be. I am completely up front, without holding back or altering it in any way.

 

Now therefore, go, and I will be thy mouth, and teach thee what thou shalt say.

~ Exodus 4:12

 

Note to God: Thank you God for doing my writing for me. All I have to do is listen and move my fingers. Honestly.
Honesty is the spiritual principle behind Co-Dependents Anonymous Step 1:

 

  1. We admitted we were powerless over others, that our lives had become unmanageable.[1]

 

 

To me, when I think about honesty, I think it is a fundamental, spiritual necessity, because it is where healing begins. In order to recover from codependency and grow spiritually, I have to face what is true, real, and right. Otherwise I am just lying to myself and cultivating deceit and giving Satan somewhere to hang his hat. Believe me, he doesn’t need any help. He is lurking around every corner trying to trip me up.

 

One of Minister George Fox’s epistles talks about dealing with truth. He says that the first move towards spiritual enlightenment begins with dealing with what is. One sits and looks truthfully at one’s self. What do you see?

 

Stand still in that which is pure, after you see yourselves;
and then mercy comes in.
After you see your thoughts, and the temptations,
do not think, but submit;
and then power comes.

            ~ George Fox[2]

 

 

And what of unmanageability? Is my life unmanageable? When I’m caught up in trying to control and fix everyone, and am powerless over the telephone, and sliding down into despair to the point that I cannot function, yes my life has become unmanageable. Believe me, I have had that experience several times over the past two years.

 

During my brother-in-law’s illness and eventual death my over-responsibility and caretaking went crazy. I went on a quest to save him. I was obsessed with fixing him to the point that I could not take care of myself.
My first course of action was for me to be honest with myself and admit that I was out of control. I was powerless over others. My life had become unmanageable. Living inside my brain was unbearable.

 

My list of solutions to this begins the same as other lists, with journaling. I practice honesty by journaling every morning. This gets everything out of me and down on paper. I write down everything I’m feeling about my brother-in-law, his illness and eventual death, and all of the affects this had on my dear sister and her life, hopes, dreams and future. Then I pray, worship, and put notes in my God Box if I need to do that. This helps me let go of whatever I’m holding onto emotionally.

 

I try not to go to a place of blaming myself in this sincerity journey because it does not help anything. All it does is send me on a shame spiral, which doesn’t help. I’m still working on correcting this. Sometimes I do get into shame, which leads to extreme sadness and low self-esteem. I’m not perfect. I’m human. I make mistakes.

 

In my quest to tell the truth, I admit that I am a recovering codependent. I admit powerlessness over others. This is the essence of Step 1. I admit that sometimes I am powerless over myself. I confess to God that I use people, food, online shopping and sometimes alcohol to fill the emptiness inside of me and numb myself out. At this time of my life, I am truly struggling with over-responsibility and caretaking.

 

I admit powerlessness over my over-responsibility and caretaking. As soon as I do that, my over-responsibility and caretaking release their hold on me. The pressure is lifted. It’s funny, isn’t it? If I try to practice restraint with caretaking others, or to stop myself from bowing like a slave to the slave master telephone, I am unsuccessful. If I admit I have no control over it, the obsession leaves. If I hold on too tight to how I’m supposed to be fixing others and be at their beck and call, obsess about it, dissect it from every angle, I drive myself crazy. If I admit defeat and voice my powerlessness over others and their views of me, or whatever, I can let it roll off me like water off a duck’s back. That is freedom.

 

Juliet’s Mantras that Help:

 

  • You are only responsible for yourself.
  • You are only in control of where you put your attention.
  • Treat it like the front page of the paper.

 

I am not responsible for other people. I can’t fix them. That doesn’t mean I need to get back on the give-Juliet-grief train, but it does mean I can hold the situation out in front of me like the latest Rolling Stone magazine and realize it is not about me. (Really!) Everyone is responsible for their own life. Now that doesn’t mean that I can’t have compassion and empathy for what they’re going through. I do. But I cannot fix them, resolve their problems, or alter their choices. It’s not my job. I am powerless over it.

 

Being honest means admitting my defects of character of over-responsibility and caretaking. No sugarcoating, no excuses. Here I am. I am confessing that I engage in these behaviors. I do this. Let’s start from there. I am powerless over my over-responsibility and caretaking. That is honesty and it is a vital first step in the path towards recovery and a happier life.

 

I am speaking now about over-responsibility and caretaking, but it could be any of my other defects — such as compulsive overeating, obsessiveness, selfishness, vanity, workaholism, rage, or complaining. I need to be truthful and admit to them. Get that nasty, destructive denial out of there. All denial does is keep me stuck. I get the truth out of my body, feelings, and brain and on paper. I look at it honestly. There we have it. I am admitting what is. This is the truth. I face it, and then I breathe in and out. Now what do I do with it? I start working the other 11 principles and their corresponding steps on the defect I’m working on.

 

So honesty. Without honesty, there can be no forgiveness. Without honesty, there can be no faith, surrender, soul searching, integrity, or acceptance. It is an imperative principle on the path that leads to recovery.

 

In my honesty, I admit that I was on the treadmill a while back and was very, very sad about my brother-in-law’s illness (just prior to his death). I was feeling very sad and frustrated because I couldn’t fix him. I couldn’t cure his illness. I was powerless over it. Yet I still felt that it was my responsibility to fix him, care for him, make it all better.

 

Then God spoke to me. He kept saying, “Aren’t you going to trust me? Aren’t you going to trust me?” I realized I could only see a small portion of the picture. He sees the whole story. He is the Master Architect, the guy with the blueprints.

 

Overall, being honest means being forthcoming about who I am, what I am, what I do and where I’m headed, where I’m at with God, and where I’m at with my program.

 

Additional practices I engage in when working the principle of honesty:

 

  • More journaling: Writing gets everything out of me. I can never journal enough.
  • Reflection: I look at what I wrote and admit my powerlessness over my defects of over-responsibility and caretaking.
  • Exercise: working out on my punching bag, swimming, walking on my treadmill and lifting weights all help me to calm down and see things more clearly.
  • Worship: Through prayer and meditation, I give this to God and listen to Him.
  • Scripture: I read my bible, especially verses that involve pouring out my soul to God and trusting him with my life.
  • Documentation: I document my thoughts on audiotape while driving and put them on the computer later.
  • The God Within: I realize that there is part of God inside me and I can trust that.
  • God is in Charge: I remember that God is sovereign and he has a plan for me. This is all part of my journey. It is all perfect.
  • Don’t Judge: I refrain from judging what comes out of me when I’m honest. Then fear won’t be an issue. Just accept it for what it is.
  • Listen: I remember that God speaks to me in many ways, not just in the bible, or in silent worship. He speaks to me through my sponsor, others at Coda meetings, and members of my Quaker meeting. I am always “listening” to what he has to say. The more I ask for guidance and listen, the more he speaks to me.
  • More Mantras: Mantras help me to focus on listening for God’s guidance throughout my day. Two mantras that work well for me are “I open all before thee” and “Here I am, Lord.”
  • Slogans: I repeat my favorite slogans, such as “Easy Does It,” “This Too Shall Pass,” “Act As If,” “Let Go and Let God” and “Turn it Over.” Repeating the slogans really helps me relax.

 

 

[1] Co-Dependents Anonymous. Co-Dependents Anonymous, Second Edition (Dallas, TX: CoDA Resource Publishing, 2009), p. iv.

[2] A Collection of Many Select and Christian

Epistles, Letters and Testimonies Written on Sundry Occasions, by

That Ancient, Eminent, Faithful Friend, and Minister of Christ Je-

sus, George Fox, (2013) RareBooksClub.com

 

23 Jul 2015
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It’s Not My Meeting, It’s God’s Meeting

In this story, I describe some issues I’ve had with fellow meeting attenders in the past. I’ve come to a place of service and acceptance, remembering “principles before personalities.” I also realize that I don’t have to fix others. Only myself.

Doing service work can be a very difficult thing. I do a lot of service for CoDA both at my home group, at the larger, Intergroup level, and through online meetings. I hold positions at both levels and both are equally rewarding and challenging.

Sometimes I have to deal with people who are not easy to deal with. I include myself in that group.

When I give service, it’s important that I do my service to give back and for no other reason. It’s good for me to remember this. Sometimes I come in with expectations. For example, I might expect gratitude. Sometimes I want to hear the words “thank you.” I don’t always hear those words. I know many other folks in service positions often do not hear those words, either.

Sometimes I want people to follow directions and do what I want them to do. They don’t always do this. This is a control issue on my part. Sometimes I have not made the directions as clear as I should have because I’m in a hurry. Sometimes I assume people know how to do things when they don’t. Those are my issues.

Codependents do things to gain approval from others. I am no different.

Codependents also expect people to know how they’re feeling without them saying it directly. I think it is hugely obvious on the outside how I’m feeling on the inside. That is not necessarily so. If I want someone to know how I’m feeling, I need to tell them.

Sometimes when I describe how to do something at a meeting, I assume people already know how to do it and know what I’m talking about. That is not always so.

I recently attended a CoDA meeting during which a fellow attender asked me if I had to chew gum. The meeting had not officially begun yet.

I sat for a moment and did not answer. This is progress for compliant, codependent Juliet. The old me would have been apologizing all over the place and spitting it out immediately. The new me paused. This is growth.

Now deep down inside, my inner child was saying, “Of course I have to chew gum! Give me a break! It’s part of how I cope!”

But I didn’t say that. I only thought it.

I took a deep breath.

“I’ll spit it out when the meeting starts but until then I get to chew it. That means I still have two minutes.”

I was boiling mad inside. But it wasn’t my meeting. It was everyone’s meeting. It’s God’s meeting. I needed to turn it over.

I started a CoDA meeting near me when my brother-in-law got sick. I did this in an effort to help myself cope with his illness. I had found so much helpful information in the Codependents Anonymous Basic text that I decided to start a basic text study.

I do a lot of service at this meeting. I basically do most every service position as it has been a fairly small meeting. That means I do most of the leading, set up the room, and put stuff away. I’m the literature person, I’m treasurer, and Group Service Representative (GSR). (The GSR attends the meetings of the larger CoDA organization.)

Given the situation, it’s understandable that I would claim ownership of this meeting in my mind. But that isn’t true. It’s God’s meeting.

I’ve been lucky enough to find someone to fill in for me when I have had to be absent. I am grateful to these people for their service. They don’t, however, always do things the way I like. Mistakes have been made with the literature. Next time, I’ll need to be clearer about the job, procedures, and expectations.

I recently realized that I needed to make amends with the person who made mistakes with the literature at my meeting. I called up the person in question and left a message on her cell phone. I apologized for not being clear about the literature job, prices, procedures and expectations. In doing this I completed a Step 9.

Step 9. Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.[1]

 I did the amends for me. I felt better after hanging up the phone. I have never heard back from her, which made me a little sad. But I made the amends for myself. I cleaned my side of the street. I did not do it to win her approval.

This situation with the literature brought back a memory. A person who doesn’t come anymore complained about how I always announce the literature and she didn’t understand why. So I stopped announcing it. Look where it got me. The new people didn’t know what to do and now we have lost literature and are out the money for it. Juliet can be compliant when it does not serve her.

 The facility we use for meetings is run by volunteers. This means that sometimes things such as flyers, postings, and announcements frequently disappear. I usually have to correct this. I get annoyed, but remember that this is my service work. I am giving back. People aren’t perfect. I’m not either. We all do our best.

Juliet’s Codependency Patterns at Work:

Your moods and actions are my fault.

  • Your customs and thoughts are always right. I am always wrong.
  • My fear of abandonment and fear of rejection determine how I behave.

(Note: I do have fear of abandonment and rejection. This fear would make me think, “I can’t be myself and express my feelings. If they know who I really am, they will realize how awful I am and they will leave. Then I won’t have a meeting.” Reacting out of fear will not solve anything. I have to do my best to be of service as joyfully as I can and still be true to myself. The rest is up to God. It’s God’s meeting, not mine.)

  • I think I have to be perfect and so do you. Nothing else will do.
  • I am less than.

Nobody is perfect but God. We all do our best and that is all that’s required.

Juliet’s Feelings Patterns at work:

This is all my fault. I did something wrong.

  • They are right. I am wrong.

 But I didn’t do anything wrong. I did my best. They did their best too.

The recovery that is evident here is that I used to say:

I am not conscious of my own moods. I am conscious of your moods.

  • If you’re happy, I’m happy.

I can’t say that here. I do know how I felt right then. I was angry.

I did however engage in:

I like to do whatever you like to do. What I like to do isn’t important.

I engaged in the second half of that, at least. I decided that what I wanted wasn’t important. I did compromise. Good for me. I was giving, not selfish.

 I think this is why they developed that saying, “Principles before personalities.” To me, this means that when we deal with people we have to practice forgiveness, humility, trust, honesty, spirituality, faith, integrity, soul searching, surrender, service, and maintenance. That sounds like a mouthful, but what it means is that we need to consider these principles when dealing with others, not just decide we don’t like a person because of how they act so they must be a wrong, bad person. To put it another way, we need to love and accept the person inside of them, not the behavior.

 I was speaking with my sponsor and she said that it is second nature for a codependent to be selfish. I want my gum and to be able to chew it too. I want my literature taken care of in a certain way. My way. But life isn’t like that. Through service work, I am learning to be self-less.

Sometimes in program and at meetings, we come across people who are in need of a lot of support. Sometimes I come away thinking, “How can I fix them? What do I need to do?” I am concerned.

During these times, I think about the person and ask God what to do. More often than not, he reveals to me that perhaps this person is in need of more support than I can give them. It’s not my job to fix them. That is God’s job. My job is to be a good listener. That I can do.

My sponsor told me that when you don’t know what to do, don’t do anything. So, I need to do nothing.

This is recovery too. The old codependent Juliet would have flown in there with her Wonder Woman cape and made it her mission to fix the person. Enter another defect of character:

  •  If you hurt, I hurt: I think I have to fix you.

I don’t have to do that now. I can be a source of support, but on my terms. I don’t have to stop my whole life, be there for them every minute, and deny myself of my life.

My job is to stay in constant contact with God and do what he wants me to do. I know he wants me to be of service because Jesus said so. When I serve, I am ultimately serving God, not just others or myself. I must always remember this and do my best to be of service no matter what. One of my main avenues of service to God is through CoDA. I can’t forget that.

All of this is the result of years of hard work, working the program. This is recovery. I am grateful.

 

 

 

 

 

 

[1] Co-Dependents Anonymous. Co-Dependents Anonymous, Second Edition (Dallas, TX: CoDA Resource Publishing, 2009), p. iv.

 

22 Jul 2015
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Twist You Codependent, Twist!

He wonders if she’ll ever get it right

Lonelyhearts will you start tonight

Wonder if she’ll ever see the light inside herself.

 

~ Lonelyhearts by Juliet A. Wright

Copyright 2010, all rights reserved

 

We are hard on others, but the person we are hardest on is ourselves. In this story, I describe an experience in a yoga class and how I still suffered from low self-esteem and an overactive inner critic. But I did better than I had the day before in spin class.

So today was Day 2 of Juliet out amongst the 20-something beautiful people of the world. I was taking a flow yoga class in luscious La Jolla while I was on vacation. At least there were a few more people who looked like they were my age than in the spin class I had taken two days before.

The room was packed with people, which meant, at times, that someone’s feet were in your face. At least they were clean and didn’t smell. I was surrounded by people who were remarkably adept at twisting themselves into an amazing pretzel and then balancing on one foot. So adept, I am not.

I did my best. I was not as intimidated as I was in spin class. I still didn’t have the right clothes. I was wearing my baggy, slightly unattractive light green sweatpants and a purple Vermont t-shirt that didn’t match. I had no makeup on and my hair was back in a braid in an attempt to hide the scalping I’d received at a barber shop the previous day. Okay, so he didn’t scalp me, but he cut at least 3-4 inches off, which was more than I wanted. I had asked for a trim. I had agreed to two inches, not three. It actually seems like more than three. So now I can’t look in the mirror for at least two weeks until it grows out a little bit. This too shall pass. My hair will grow.

“Put a hat on and forget it,” my mom would say.

So, back to yoga. I did my best. I stretched, twisted, balanced, downward dogged, up dogged, cameled, bull posed, proud warriored, and did a lot of prayer pose in more ways than one. The small, thin, dark-eyed instructor wore perfect makeup and yoga attire. She seemed to be very gentle and kind. A couple of times she came over and gently adjusted my poses. She kept reminding us to breathe, which is great because I tend to forget to do that, especially when I’m really concentrating on something. She was a wonderful teacher. She even threw some meditation into the mix, which completely agreed with my Quaker self.

I sometimes lost my balance and became self-conscious. My inner critic called me a klutz.

Juliet’s Codependency Patterns at work:

I am less than.

  • I’m not good enough to be here.
  • I don’t deserve to be here.

 Juliet’s feelings patterns:

I am less than.

  • I don’t deserve to be here.
  • I am different than everyone else.

Positive Affirmations:

I am good enough to be here.

  • I am worthy of love just because I exist.
  • I am trying my best, which is all I can ask of anyone, including myself.
  • I don’t have to be perfect.
  • It’s okay to make mistakes every

 I don’t have to listen to my inner critic. All he does is make my low self-esteem escalate to gigantic proportions. I can tell him to go away. I did that at this yoga class.

Even if I’m not perfect, it’s okay for me to be around people who are. And the reality is that they’re not really perfect either; I just think they are. So I can tell my perfectionism to take a hike, along with my low self-esteem. I can take my spider-veined, saggy kneed, gray rooted, page boy haired, geeky dressed body into a yoga class full of beautiful, pretzel twisted hard bodies and still love myself just because I’m me.

Who knows. Maybe my presence will make them feel better about themselves. I hope so. They’re probably criticizing themselves the way I do myself.

If the sharing of my experiences helps just one person, it’s worth it. Even if that person is me. That is recovery.

 

 


 

09 Jan 2015
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Spin You Codependent, Spin!

Why aren’t I pretty, long arms, big feet

Shame on me, admit defeat

With your fantasy, I can’t compete

It’s perfect

 

~Expectations, by Juliet A Wright,

copyright 2009, all rights reserved.

 

 

In this entry I describe a recent experience I had in a Spin Class while on vacation. My low self esteem kicked in and I felt less than. My CoDA tools helped me get back into a positive, self–accepting state of mind.

 

I took a spin class today. I was in La Jolla, CA, where I met my sister for Christmas vacation. The class took place in a Spin Studio. There was dark lighting and a bunch of bikes crammed into a small space. There were many perfectly fit beach-ready 20 something’s surrounded me on their bikes clad perfect spin wear. The music was loud and pumping with the latest dance tunes blasting through the latest high tech speakers.

 

Instantly this 50-year-old codependent felt inadequate.

 

Juliet‘s feelings and codependency patterns:

I am less than

I don’t deserve to be here.

I’m not good enough to be here.

 

I felt like bawling. What a fraud I am. What am I doing here? I don’t belong here! I belong in Vermont stacking wood or maybe, at most, at my tiny little spin class in North Adams where I fit in a little better.
I couldn’t understand one thing the instructor was saying other than the occasional gear number, or “up, down.”   It reminded me of being in a rock club and watching a band sing when you can’t understand one single lyric.

 

“How did you like the band?” someone might ask.
“ I have no idea, I couldn’t understand what they were saying.”

 

I chose to try out these special spinning sneakers that had clips on the bottom. The clips hook to the pedals in some tortuous attempt to keep you from running away, kind of like Kevin Bacon’s shoe lace tied him to the tractor to keep him from jumping off the tractor in Footloose.

 

Somehow I guess they are supposed to make your legs work harder. Don’t get me wrong; I’m all for working hard. I’ve been eating since I got here and I feel like a beached elephant seal. Plus my digestion isn’t working because I’m no longer accustomed to the strong west coast coffee. So that’s not helping either. Sigh.

So what was I doing there? I wasn’t good enough, fit enough, young enough, and pretty enough to be there. I wasn’t enough. I was only me.

 

Then I saw a woman in front of me who was kind of doing her own thing. She wasn’t necessarily following the teacher or anyone else. She was just going at her own pace, doing her own thing.
So maybe I can be like her, I thought. Maybe all I can do is by best. I don’t have to live up to the perfect, thin, blonde beach 20 something anymore.
It reminded me of living In LA, and having to look and be a certain way just to survive there. LA is a very superficial place where looks are everything. It doesn’t matter if you are a nice person, a Godly person or anything like that. All that matters is what you look like.

 

In the music business it mattered that you looked good enough to turn people on. Your job was to get them to buy drinks, dance, meet someone, go home, get lucky and come back and do it again. We sold sex and booze. That was our job.

 

I don’t fit that bill anymore.
Then I realized all I have to do is be myself.

 

I’m enough for that.
I’m no longer bleach blonde. My knees sag. I remember a bar customer coming up to me one night and telling me how ugly my knees were and could I please cover them up.
But all I have to do is be myself. I am a beloved child of God just because I’m me. I don’t need to fit into anyone else’s mold.

 

I need to do what God is telling me to do. I need to do what is in front of me. That means to practice my violin and work on my book.

The spin class did end.

 

This too shall pass.

 

No one laughed or pointed a finger at me.

I exercised.

I was enough for me.
I was enough in that moment.

I was probably only less than in my own mind.

 

Working my CoDA program has taught me to use the slogans and positive affirmations when my inner critic starts going nuts. It has taught me to recognize my defects and codependency patterns and change my behavior. In this case my low self-esteem was running rampant.

I feel better about myself when I go to meetings, read program literature say my slogans, and positive affirmations.
Doing this keeps this stuff in my brain so I can reference it during moments like this. It can be referenced to remind me that I am enough.

 

Positive affirmations:
I am enough.

I am a beloved child of God just because I exist.

I am doing the best I can in this moment and that is all I can expect from anyone, including myself.

God loves me just the way I am.
Slogans:
This too shall pass.

Let go and let God.
Act as if.

Turn it over.

 

However I can do it in that moment, it’s enough.

 

That is recovery.

 

 

29 Jul 2014
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Daily Dose of Dislikes

I just took my daily dose of dislikes. I take one every time I want to torture myself unnecessarily. Much of the time it involves making phone calls to my bank, credit card, Phone Company or other automatic-frustration-available-here type of organizations. UGH!!!!!!!!! This daily does of dislikes is a good example of how resentment and rage can go hand in hand.

 

So what is going on with me today? What defect is emerging its ugly brown crap colored head? I am feeling resentful. Why? Because for the 40th time I had to call the bank to try and get them to send me a reminder that the auto bill pay for my non-profit organization phone bill is going to happen. But they can’t send me the reminder. They can only send the old treasurer the reminder. Now I’m not even clear if the auto bill pay is going to happen or not. It had better not because I just paid the bill.

 

So I have to remember. But remembering is beyond my capabilities. I can’t remember anything. It took a half hour of my time to not get this done and most of that time was spent on hold. Very obnoxious. I hate that. I am resentful.

 

If it makes me resentful, it’s not a choice. Resentment leads to rage. So why did I bother calling? Unknown. Why don’t I just put a note on my own phone bill or calendar that says, “Don’t forget non-profit bill!” Cuz that is the only reminder I’m going to get. Argh!!!!!!
How much will the bill be? I don’t know. I’ll have to guess. Maybe I’ll just pick a number out of a hat to decide how much to send them. I’m kidding, but man. Seriously.

 

Okay, breathe. I am really upset because I didn’t get started on my book until 11:35, which is criminal. Plus my week is slipping away because my Quaker Yearly Meeting starts Saturday and goes until next Thursday. How will I keep my food cold? How will I exercise? Breathe. Chill. There is a God and it’s not me. Thank heavens it’s not me.

 

Resentment. It’s my problem. Rage. It’s my problem too. I’m the one who called the bank. I knew what I was getting into. This is after calling another Internet utility company last night and getting someone from heaven knows where that I couldn’t understand that hung up on me. That was another winner. What a party. I can’t stand having this much fun.

 

Resentment. Frustration. Anger. Get it out. I have the Matrix Reloaded Soundtrack on and they are screaming their lungs out. Awesome. That helps. I have candles going. That helps. I’m journaling, typing, spilling my guts, working on my book. That helps too. Breathe. It’s okay. Just get over this hump. It’ll be okay. God loves you. Keep writing.

 

Bruises by Unloco is my new favorite song. This is the stuff!!! He is screaming his lungs out. He is helping me express myself. Yes! Go boy go!!!
So these are some of the things I do when I’m really frustrated. I listen to loud screaming music. I look at my Angry Bird, at least when I’m in my car. I journal or if I’m in my car, I journal by speaking into my little tape recorder and then type it out later. Typing it out later is kind of a pain in the caboose, but I do it and get good stuff from it. When I’m home I pound and yell on my punching bag or get on the treadmill for a long walk.

 

I wish they had Angry Bird shirts for adults. It blows that they don’t. I need about twelve of them.

 

The poor bank lady. I feel bad for her. God bless the bank lady. It’s not her fault that this process sucks eggs. I wish I had been nicer to her. I knew how the conversation was going to end when I started so what was the point? I knew she was going to come back and say she couldn’t help me. God please bless the bank lady. She really tried hard to help me. I hope she talks to nicer people than me.

 

That’s it Unloco, scream some more about your Bruises. Let it out. Thank you for helping.

 

I am expressing my rage and trying to let go of my resentments. After all I did it to myself.

 

And see this stuff totally works for me. I listened to Bruises by Unloco about ten times. Then I listened to the entire Matrix Reloaded Soundtrack. I lit some candles and wrote on my computer about how I’m feeling. I wrote and wrote and wrote. And now I’m calm. Now Unloco has taken a refreshments break and Brahms is helping me out with his String Quartet #1 Opus 88 in F. Thanks Brahms! I’m sorry you never got Clara but your music is great and has helped many people. It feeds my soul. It helps me breathe in and out.

16 Jul 2014
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4

Driving Lost

I have no sense of direction. I get lost at the drop of a hat. I’ve gotten lost in Los Angeles, Hawthorne, Malibu, Menlo Park, Mountain View, Kansas City, (both of them!) Boston, Maine, in New York State, Woodstock, Lenox and even in Pittsfield, MA where I work. And I’m sure I left out a like a million places. I can get lost going to the bathroom. Is it an illness? A condition? Is something blocking by brain? I have always been like this. I have always gotten lost very, very easily.

A couple of years back my sister and her husband gave me a GPS, which helped. That machine was made for people like me who obviously came out of the womb lost, not knowing where to go next. That’s me.

The problem with GPS systems is that you have to tell them where you want to go. Then you have to put in the right address. Then the GPS has to like the address you put in. A lot of the time it says “address not found.” That makes me so mad. Now come one. Please. The person who lives there gave me the address. The internet likes the address. What is your problem, Mr. map-in-a-box computer program? Frustrating.

Sometimes there is a roadblock or detour that Mr. GPS hasn’t seen or figured out. Then he starts giving you grief for going the wrong way. “Recalculating.” Okay fine, what can I do? I’m not driving through the river or over the side of the mountain. This was especially true in New England following Tropical Storm Irene when many of the two lane highways were severely damaged and barely functional.

Most recently I was lost in Acadia National Park in Maine. It is a beautiful, peaceful, Spirit-filled, mammoth place. It has one-way streets that intersect with two-way streets. It has signs that say “do not enter,” and “this way only.” I don’t like that. I typed in Acadia National Park into the nice little GPS box and the box led me to the main gate. That’s not where I wanted to go. I wanted to go to the visitors center. What’s the matter with you? Then I tried to follow the directions of the guard. Then I drove around lost for one hour. The man inside the box was laughing. Serves her right, stupid human.

You can imagine what came next. Rage. Yelling. Gone was the sweet Christian Quaker Juliet who was listening to her bible cd’s in the car. Enter raging, cursing, mean, Kathy Bates character in Fried Green Tomatoes when she rammed the dickens out of that VW Bug that took her parking spot. Marilyn Manson and the Matrix Reloaded soundtrack replace the bible cd’s and are blasting in my car. Pretty soon I start having hot flashes and I’m sweating like some sort of farm animal. That helps. Really.

Eventually I realized I had driven myself not only crazy, but right out of the park as well. So then I got to turn around and do it all over again. Great fun! Eventually I found my way to the ocean walk, got a parking spot and went for a walk.

Enter calm Juliet apologizing to God for her temper tantrum, saying her positive affirmations, reciting her gratitude list, asking for forgiveness for her terrible, obviously inherited temper.

So what is the purpose of getting lost? Acceptance? Surrender? Letting go of control? Patience? I would say all of the above.

The good news that Philipians 1:6 says that:  “he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” Thank heavens. I get another chance or two to get it right. I mean I don’t know if I’ll ever really know where I’m going when I’m behind the wheel of a car, but maybe I can handle it differently so that I don’t have a stroke in the process.

Maybe the only time I really know where I’m going is when I admit that I’m lost. When I surrender, give up control, let go, have faith, practice acceptance. The fact that I think I know where I’m going and what will happen next is just an illusion anyway, a fantasy. Only God knows that. My requests for the knowledge of his will unveil a few ice crystals that are really part of a huge glacier. Crystal by crystal it is revealed to me. I will trust. I will accept. I will surrender. I will breathe in and out. Relax. Breathe.

24 Apr 2014
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1

A Cure for Codependency

There is a heroin epidemic that is plaguing my beautiful home state of Vermont. It has been all over the news. Junk is everywhere and just about everyone is doing it. Rehab centers are turning people away and telling them to keep using until a bed opens up.

One can probably imagine a young girl running down the street. She hasn’t bathed in awhile and her hair is a mess. Her clothes, well, she has been wearing the same ones for a week and now they smell. Brushing her teeth? For get it.

“You got a fix? I need a fix.” She repeats this over and over to everyone she sees. She owes her dealer so he’s skipped town. She is desperate. She is a junkie. The big H has become her God. She can’t live without it. Getting and using stuff is now her full time job.

Now imagine the same girl running down the road. Only know she is not looking for a fix. She is looking for a cure for cancer. “You got a cure, you got a cure?” She repeats this over and over to everyone she sees. She is desperate to help her family.

You got a cure?

NO cure.

Now she is running down the road looking for a prayer. “Can you pray, will you pray?”

She is seeking to get the God in them to save her brother in law and her poor sister who cares for him. If she just gets enough people pray she can fix it. She can save him and her sister too. She can control the world. She can fix it.

Look at this girl. Look at what her codependency is doing to her. It is killing her the way h is killing young people in this beautiful, rural state. “Can you save my brother? I think if you can pray one more time you can save him. Can you pray for a new brain?”

I can’t say I was that person, but I sure wasn’t far off. That pretty much describes my behavior for the past fourteen months. Begging every person I knew to pray for him, trying to save him. He is my brother, I love him. Deep down, to save my family of origin, my sister, to save her from pain and anguish, especially after what she has just been through with Mom. Trying to save her. Trying to fix her. Trying to make it okay. Trying to play God.

Now this is me. I am trying to fix it, safe it, fix her, save her, fix him, save him. I am feeling their feelings.  I feel their despair. And when I’m not feeling it, I’m telling myself I should be. Most of the time I don’t need to do that. Feeling it comes naturally. It’s as natural as flicking on a light switch. I have had years of training.

This is enmeshment. This is my codependency patterns running wild:


If you hurt. I hurt; I think I have to fix you.

Your moods and actions are my fault.

I don’t know what I need, I focus on what you need.

I am obsessed with making you happy, with saving you.

My fear of abandonment and rear of rejection determine how I behave.

 I feel what they feel. I need to detach. It doesn’t have to be about drugs, alcohol or gambling or men or sex. It can just be that you love someone and you want them to be well. You want to fix something that you can’t fix, change something that you can’t change and it sends you into despair.  You get into enmeshment trying to fix it. When you finally accept it and realize you can’t change it, you get into despair and it affects everything in your life. There is this big, thick grey cloud hanging over your head. You are like there is that feeling again, the moment you wake up.

Pretty soon its not just obsession with my brother who has cancer and I’m taking on his feelings, and my sisters feelings and his despair. But now a little boy at one of my schools died and I have to feel what those parents are feeling too. Then I hear about the mudslide and what about them? I have to feel what they are feeling too. And what about the people in Malaysia who are waiting for news of their loved ones on that missing plane? Where is that flipping plane anyway? And the people at the hospital! The hospital is closed and they’ve all lost their jobs. Now I have to feel their feelings and fix them too? Better put them on the list. And another friend has a lung that is collapsing. This is going to kill me!!

This is enough to drive me to insanity. This is when my life has become unmanageable. This is when I need to come to Coda. I need to detach with love and start to take care of myself. The only thing I have control over is how I react to what I happening. This was my experience this last week. It drove me to exhaustion, depression, selfishness, despair and ruined my Sunday worship to the point that I was worried I wouldn’t be able to go to my Quaker meeting anymore, which sent me even further into my despair spiral to not be able to see my spiritual family.

Then I think how can I fix it, how can I change it, who can I call? I’m desperate help me help me help me. No answer, no answer. No one is home.

So what is the answer? For Juliet it means I need to work my program. I need to admit my powerlessness over others, cancer, disasters,disease and death. I need to give it to God.  I need to humble myself before him, admit that I am out of control and that I need help. I need to get to a meeting, write out some step work and read it to my sponsor. I need to let go of what is not mine and give it back to its owner. There is a God and it is not me. I need to take the focus off of others and put it back on myself. I need to admit my powerlessness over my enmeshment.

Slogan: I can’t God can, I think I’ll let him.

Admitting powerlessness is half the battle. Just admitting to God that I am out of control and powerless over these obsessions, feelings, control and compliance patterns helps it ease up. Suddenly the pressure is off. Some one pressed the pause button and I can breathe in and out. I can figure out my hand position and get my bow straight before they press the play button again. I can let go. I write out my steps. I read them to my sponsor. Suddenly the current is back flowing in the right direction and I’m going with it. Breathe. Just breathe. Give every breathe to God. It’s okay. I’m not driving the boat. None of us are. God is driving the boat. God bless the twelve steps. Breathe just breathe. Live every day in gratitude. And let go. Just let go.

 

 

23 Mar 2014
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6

Signs of Forgiveness

My parents were really into antiques. They decorated their house with antiques, and were always looking to add to their collection. It was a passion that they shared together. Part of this collection consisted of some Delft china of my mothers that used to sit in the corner cupboard of our kitchen.  I used to see it there as a child but don’t ever remember looking closely at it or seeing the pictures that were on it or anything. It was just there staring at me from a distance along with the cigarettes left on the saucer by mistake and the Stoli’s that was in the teacup in the corner.

Through the course of my tumultuous childhood resentments built up inside of me. I suffered neglect at the hands of my mother, who was rarely there for me emotionally or spiritually. I had a lot of anger towards her for drinking and blamed her for almost everything. My father was in his power hungry mode and had a desire for control, money and women, and that really turned me off. So, I decided that I wanted to run away from all of that and not participate in it. I didn’t want to have any part of it. I took pride in the fact that I didn’t want anything from them, not their money, value system, social life, antiques or memories.

But, through the course of time, experience, recovery and taste, I’ve grown to really like antiques and country style and in fact, I did like some of my mother’s things. So when she moved I got some of her copper and when she passed away I decided I would like her Delft. Still, it sat in her storage unit for a really long time.

I remember her saying when she moved to California that she wanted to keep her Delft but didn’t want to get it out because it was just too sad. I couldn’t understand that. It is just china. What’s the big deal, I thought. Maybe it reminded her of something, but I didn’t know. More blame. What’s the matter with her? She wanted to keep it but didn’t want to look at it, it was just too sad. Whatever.

So eventually I did have the Delft shipped from California to my home in Vermont. I took it out and set it up and looked at it. It has ships on it. Then it hit me. Oh my Gosh that is the reason it was so sad for her.

My father grew up as a sailor on lake Michigan. Sailing was his thing. After my folks got married they would sail together. They would compete in sail boat races; have friends on the boat to party. The five-o-clock-cocktail-hour crowd spent many hours on the decks of that boat.  It was like a status thing for her. I really don’t think she was that fond of sailing, I think it kind of scared her. But she did it to make him happy and to be with him. She was fond of the status and how it made her appear to other people. That represented them, that boat. So I thought, Oh, that’s it. Mom was a hopeless romantic. That kingdom, that God of my father had failed her. That is why it was so sad because she realized that he wasn’t true to her and romance had died. Then he died. Poor Mom, I thought. I wouldn’t want to get up and look at those memories everyday either. That would be like me hanging pictures in the cabin of Alex and I snuggling at the movies and having to get up everyday with them staring me in the face. That would be enough to make me go back to bed and pull the covers over my head for the day. I get it.

So Mom was a hopeless romantic. How about it?

This is all a sign of forgiveness that I can look with compassion on her and say, poor Mom, I understand. Her world was collapsing and she reacted to it by self-medicating. She just couldn’t stand it. I have empathy for her.

These are signs of recovery for me. These are signs of forgiveness.

So the Delft sits on my kitchen shelves. I bought those fancy plate hangers that make the plates stand up so you can see them clearly. The ships keep my kitchen afloat on the ocean of faith and hope. Every time I look at these dishes I think of her, and I think of him.

I have pictures of them as young people sitting on my piano. They were just starting out. They had their whole lives before them and the whole world by the tail. Beautiful, beautiful people trying to make it before everything got messy. It was their best moment. Now I hold these pictures of them in my mind. This is how I remember them. This is forgiveness. It is recovery. I am grateful.

 

 

 

09 Feb 2014
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6

What, No Blueprint?

 

 

 

I’m currently reading a book about spiritual practice among Friends and I came across this passage that has been really bothering me for several months now. The passage in question appears in a section that discusses focusing on a particular dynamic in ones relationship with God as a co-creator of ones future, as opposed to attempting to discern Gods will for ones life. Thomas Merton states that basically people act like God has plan or map for their life in a drawer somewhere and that we think all we have to do is find the right drawer containing the right map and we’ll be all set and on our way. He says it’s not like that. There is no predestined plan for us because we are co-creating the plan with God. He says it is more like a great improvisation that is constantly unfolding.

 

 

What? You mean there is no blueprint for Juliet’s life?  Really? I don’t want to think that is true. What if it was? What if I’m really entirely responsible for all my choices and unlike Robert Frost, who chose the right road not taken, I chose the wrong one and end up in a mess? I mean I’m human. I’m human, self-centered, selfish, can’t get out my own way. Man, don’t put me in charge! Yikes! And besides, I was never that great at improvisation. The improv classes I took at the University of Miami were really gnarly and made me sweat buckets, even in rooms that were cold enough to hang meat.

 

Besides, Jeremiah 1:5 says, “Before you were formed in the womb I knew you. I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord Almighty.” So was Merton denying all of that? He was a monk; he can’t just say it’s not scripture, can he? Maybe he means that since there is that of God in me that it is like I am co-creating my plan but it freaks me out because what if I make the wrong choices create the wrong thing? That bothers me.

 

 

Psalm 139 says, “When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be (Psalm 139:13-16).”

 

 

I can see how we are co-creators in the sense that we have been given free will and can choose to follow God or not. We can choose to get to know, love and make God first in our life or not. So in that sense, I suppose we could be creating the blueprint of our lives.

 

 

I choose to believe that God does have a plan for my life.  If I remain in a constant state of prayer, listen for His guidance, and practice unreserved obedience to Him, I think I will be able to follow His blueprint for my life.

 

 

Okay, so maybe I won’t find a drawer with a map in it. But I’ve never been good at reading maps anyway, and even with my new GPS that my sister and brother-in-law so lovingly gave to me for Christmas one year, I am an expert in getting lost. So hopefully the map is really a spiritual blueprint than can be discerned through prayer, meditation and the study of Scripture.

 

 

I find great comfort, promise, faith and hope in the Scriptures. They have gotten me through many tough times. I believe they are the inspired word of God. I do believe God has a plan for me that was created before I even came down to this planet. That is what works for Juliet. So whether it is a blue print, a map, diagram or drawing, I will use the tools I have to seek it and follow God’s path. Nothing I ever do in this life could be more important.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

31 Dec 2013
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12

Super Storms and Speed Bumps

I can be a very obsessive person. When this particular character defect starts revving its engine my mind I can easily get caught up in all or nothing catastrophic thinking. Everything becomes the world’s biggest disaster, the world’s biggest super storm.  Now in reality, it may not be a super storm at all. It may just be a speed bump.

What is a super storm and what is a speed bump? And how can I tell the difference? Sometimes I think experience is the answer. My body needs to learn the difference too, because right now everything is a crisis. My heart starts pounding and my mind starts racing faster and faster. Oh my gosh, how am I going to survive?  Oh no, it’s all over. My life is going to end.

One of my most recent calamities involved my teaching license. A few weeks ago my mentor called me and urged me to log onto DESE website (Department of Elementary and Secondary Education) and renew my license because the Union president said all you have to do is log on, pay your fees and that’s it – license renewed. I was pretty certain that my license was due to expire in February, so it made sense to pursue this.

I logged onto the website and low and behold, to my surprise, it said my professional license was pending and I still have my initial license. Further investigation revealed that my test scores had been accepted and approved.

However, in another place it said my test scores were incomplete. Plus the button involved was pink, which I took to be significant, meaning bad news was ahead, something awful, something life changing, or at least horrifically expensive and that was what I had to fix.  So I scanned and faxed my test results to the email listed on the bottom of the page. Well, in another place it said I needed to take a huge load of special education courses, and courses in technology for teachers. “There is no way I can do this,” I thought to myself.

By this point I was sweating and my inner child was so scared she was clinging to me for life as if I were the only tree left in the middle of an Indonesian tsunami.

So I email the DESE folks a hundred times, sent them all this stuff and tried to figure out what else I could do for a living. I was really in a place of fear and lack and my heart was pounding as if I had just run the Boston Marathon. “I’m going to starve,” I thought. “I’m going to end up jobless on the street, living in a box in the back woods of Pownal. I won’t be able to teach, but maybe God doesn’t want me to teach. Maybe this is a sign from God. But how am I going to make money? How am I going to support myself? I’ll have to eat Top Raman. I hate that! I don’t want to eat that. My license expires in February. February is a really cold month. Help!”

A few days later I received an email saying I emailed the wrong person and I need to call between the hours of 3:00 and 5:00 and wait on hold. Great. Waiting on hold, my favorite thing!

I lived through the lifelong hold and spoke to a really nice man who said all I needed to do was download a form, get one of my principals to sign it and fax it back to him. He would look out for it and take care of the rest. By the end of the week I had a license that was renewed until 2019 for the bargain price of $25.00!

So what I thought was a super storm was really only a speed bump.

My sweet brother-in-law is dealing with brain cancer. My sister is staying home to take care of him. Their whole world is turned upside down. That is a super storm. I send them Light every day.

All or nothing catastrophic thinking gets me in trouble. I learned it from my family of origin where in most cases the crisis was really a super storm and not a speed bump. By working my recovery program I am getting better at seeing the difference between super storms and speed bumps. I am continually reminded that there is a God and it is not me. I’m sure God has more lessons in store for me. Maybe someday I’ll get it.