Trust -An Inside Job

I once heard a podcast from Sterling W. Sill that changed my life.  I kept streaming it, entranced by his voice.  I listened to it while I worked and walked, and now that youtube has made life so awesome, I can listen to Sterling W. Sill while I do yoga.  That, friends, is the life.

In his talk, he gives a formula for success -he says that happiness and success are "An Inside Job."  We create it from within ourselves and send it out into the world.
That which we cast upon the waters comes back to us, and all that.

I think I've told you how I buy stuff now.  This is a big deal, a big big thing.  I used to ONLY buy songs on iTunes when I had a gift card, and even then... I was terrified to use it.  What if I WASTED IT on songs that weren't worthy?
THANK GOODNESS Sterling W. Sill's podcast was free.  Mormons are always so sweet about giving their gospel away.

I buy songs now.  I mean, I really buy them.
I give them away a lot too which means I just purchased 100 CDs on Amazon and some sleeves to hold them.  I buy stuff on Amazon.
I bought stuff at the health food store last week.  For myself.

And I don't feel guilty.  I feel good, even.  There's something so exciting about the health food store, right?  It's earthy and smells all at once like coffee and powdered supplements.  There's milk IN GLASS JUGS and honey that costs $50.  I love that I can find yoga pants and homemade soap right next to an entire aisle of flours made out of everything except wheat.  If you're patient and brave, you can crank out your own peanut butter.
It's like Disneyland!
Except more expensive.
And no corn dogs.

I realized the other day that I have books I need to finish.  That means I also bought books for myself. I have a good little group of books to finish.
"Man's Search for Meaning," by Viktor Frankl
A Yoga Book by Baron Baptiste
"Let's Eat Right to Keep Fit," by Adelle Davis
"Death Comes to Pemberley," by P.D. James
"Aura Personalities" by Staci Sadler -a super fun read if you're into studying personalities which I, an avid people watcher, am.

Tonight I bought, "Intimacy Anorexia" by Doug Weiss.
Two years ago, I wasn't reading books at all because
1) They cost money and
2) They burned me.  I believed books more than God and ended up in a WORLD of trouble.

I've learned now that I just need to LISTEN to God as I read.  He lets me know what matters and what doesn't... what is true and what isn't.

These changes are all pretty cool because they're a sign of something I've been searching for: LOVE.
I've talked about this before, so sue me.  But don't stop reading.

So while I am finding a deep and abiding love for my divine self, I am also finding respect for myself as well.  I don't always respect myself, but I'm learning.  I'm progressing.

But here's my question -the one I'm sending out into the dark void I love so much: when does trust come in?
Love, respect and then trust?
Because although I buy songs on iTunes when they move me (or my booty), and although I'm taking $30 honey (couldn't spring for the $50, you know me) in my warm water, I'll be DANGED if I don't trust myself.

I trust my gut.
But do I do what I say I'm going to?
DO I?
No.  No I don't.  Not usually, but sporadically.  That's hardly a formula for success, and I think Sterling W. Sill would agree with my calculations: not a formula for self-trust.

Trust has come up in my lingo a lot these days.  It's the biggest and majorest hurdle at hand in my marriage.  I so appreciate Brene Brown's video on The Anatomy of Trust because it helps me wrap some sense and wordage to what I'm feeling and struggling with.
The feelings while listening went something like: yes, yes, YES!  Okay, I'm not crazy or expecting too much.  YES!  I love this acronym... I love it.  It makes so much sense!  Boundaries, yes.  Accountability, YES!...
oh.
oh.
oh, hell.
Oh helly hell.

Girl, we've got work to do.

She built up this really, REALLY succinct message about how trust is built and right at the last minute when she HAS you, really has you, she turns it around and says something incredibly profound like, "we have to trust ourselves before we accept trust from others."
An Inside Job.

God's latest message to me has been, "to accomplish a large goal, do one thing at a time."

This message has been coming through for weeks, and I hear it.  But I've been shrugging going, "Okay, YES.  But WHAT IS THE LARGE THING?  The large goal?"

I believe it is building trust with myself.
It's a hard row to hoe.  And I surely know how to tackle those and surely know how much I hate it in the beginning, wear out in the middle and feel like a sweaty champ of the entire garden at the end.

What's the first step?  I feel like I could work the 12-steps JUST for this issue, and I plan on it.  I added a column to my Step 4 for all of the times I've broken trust in relationships with others and myself.  How long will it take to write down all of the times I haven't trusted God?
Hard stuff.

I will take the advice of someone I revere, right along with Sterling W. Sill:

The Place

In my mind there always existed this imaginary sort of place where everything was as I felt it should be... my personality, my home, my finances.  I felt it was the CORRECT place.  For EVERYONE.

In that place, there was neatness, organization, optimal health, classy style that attracted but didn't flaunt, beautiful and culturally sound arts, good music, smiles, a few pets and a garden.  There are people who have pieces of that place, and I spent a lot of time studying them, using scriptures to back up each step in my journey.

Organize yourselves, people!

I felt tense when I was around someone who didn't fit into my place.  If they were too loudly dressed or refused to smile or didn't till their own earth or didn't place what I perceived to be adequate importance on dust and stuff, I felt uneasy.  I felt the need to control my external circumstances.

And it turned out that the place -the place I had in mind and kept a firm eye on always -was a very lousy place.  The journey toward it was forced and tense and filled with chemicals and workout gurus who talked about abs like they were the point of my workout.  I was in a constant state of worry -I worried about other people -what they weren't doing, what they were doing, what they thought of my home and outfit and mode of teaching and serving and cooking.  

The Place was so shallow I couldn't SINK INTO ANYTHING REAL.

I started Recovery for me but BECAUSE of Danny.

Today I worked my recovery for me BECAUSE of me.

My last post was about progress -how I'd seen it in myself.  I knew typing it was risky.  Yesterday, I was hit with

LOOK you need improvement here.

LOOK you can improve here.

LOOK you just played the martyr.

LOOK you just made a decision motivated by control.

LOOK you are more worried about what others think than God.

LOOK you are triggered!

I came home from work, sat in the big, ripped up recliner that The Place had chucked far from it and prayed.

The recliner is situated right next to three big windows, though no sun shone through.  The day was overcast and grey.  My legs were covered in a big blanket.  As I sent up my plea to Heaven asking for I don't even know what, the sun came out.  It covered my body and I felt literal warmth.  My body relaxed and I fell asleep.

It was as if God reached through the clouds and commanded the universe to let me sleep.  I would open my eyes and they'd fall again.

I needed heavy, quiet sleep.

I woke up to My Place.  It isn't THE PLACE.

My house looks like the inside of my soul -cluttered, colorful, creative, and a little crazy.  

I don't believe My Place is for everyone.  This isn't hypothesis.  My Place makes other people uncomfy to the point of action.  People clean My Place a lot.  There isn't optimal health here, but there's a constant striving for truth about our bodies and the miraculous science behind them.  There's protein in the fridge and vitamins in the cupboard and yoga mats against the wall.  The point of the workout in My Place is truth, not abs.

As I drove to work today and snowflakes fell on my windshield, I was hit with God's ever-present passion for variety.

Nature varies beautifully -the desert holds a sacred kind of beauty I can't seem to even WANT to leave... the space, the air, it has nothing to hide, nothing to hold back.

Every snowflake is different, the prints on my hand are different than the prints of the hands that GREW inside of me!  The very waves on their hands were shaped and formed by the fluid my body created to protect them while they formed. The mountains in the distance that shot up in the horizon with no pattern, no symmetry at all.

Hair colors, eye colors, body colors.

Zebras, for crying out loud!  Can you get more varied than a white horse striped all over in black?  Or is it a black horse striped all over in white?!

I'm sure this is God's favorite riddle for the world.

I thought of Satan's plan -effective as it would have been to have make the choice that would bring us salvation, it lacks variety completely.

The Place was built sort of upon The Principle of Opposition.  One Way to Rule Us All!

But there exists in me a drive that goes BEYOND this life... a drive that existed before my fingerprints and hair color and passion for yarn... a belief that variety and choices is MY way.

My Place is simply that -Mine.

Because I've never had enough self-love to give validity to My Place, it has waited in a dark and dusty corner, shivering and ratty and patient.  I loved others more than myself, and others had Their Place.  I wanted that.  I wanted a Home Within.  Recovery has helped me dust it off, polish it up and start really setting up camp.

I started the process BECAUSE of Danny, and YES I was resentful as I polished.  Sometimes resentment gives me my very best grunt work performances.

But presently, I work on My Place BECAUSE of me and BECAUSE I love God and Jesus very much.  Very very much.  I loved Jesus before, but I didn't love Him with THIS kind of love -the kind of love that proves there IS A HEAVEN because THIS love is deeper than mortal love.  I can't wrap my mortal mind around what I'm feeling, you know?  It goes beyond romance, it goes beyond sibling love, it truly goes beyond anything mortal!  It's immortal intimacy.

Yesterday I talked about progress.  Today I'm talking about NOT PERFECTION.

My Place is a friggin' mess.  Probably forever.  But okay.

Today I did yoga with the mantra, "I awaken" and I added what came natural afterward.

What came natural?  Well, thank you for asking:

I awaken my true identity.

I awaken My Place.

I find I still lean toward others, longing for Their Place.  It gives me nothing but grief and a cleaner microwave.

Today I did some dusting in My Place.

I thanked God for others and their places, for what they all send out into the world -their gifts, their process of healing, their methods and magics.

And I practiced gratitude for the way I am -the open Alicia with all her ways and workings.

Then I logged on here and was vulnerable because although it makes other people squirm sometimes, I am vulnerable for a reason.  I've been chucking it down lately in the name of conformity which is just a fancy was of saying, "I'm scared."

I hope Your Place gets dusted today and that you're able to do something very Your Placey.  Like garden or spit or run or build or sketch or chart or wash or cry or dance or sing or rhyme.

Your Place has the potential to save lives, namely your own. It has the power to tap you into spirituality, health, serenity, and peace.  

For though our places are different, they share One common denominator:

GOD.

And where God is, so is a love of variety -within you is a deep and relentless passion for variety, for YOU and not HER.

Comparison is the thief of joy because it chips away at that core passion.

So here's to Places.  To our Zions within.

It takes a very real trek to get there, and you won't trade it for anything.

Taking it Personally

I didn't know about porn before I got married.  I mean, I knew OF porn.  I knew it was a thing out there in a galaxy far, far away.  But I had never seen it, not really.  When Danny told me he'd had issues with porn in the past, I figured it was no big deal because
1) Sex is a need for men.
2) Danny wasn't having sex.
3) I would have sex with Danny after we were married.

I didn't realize that Danny's porn stuff had NOTHING to do with me.  I thought I had Main Sway in his sexual actions and behavior... not in a controlling, manipulative way, but in a, "if I give him enough, everything will be fine" kind of way.
I believed sex was a duty as a wife.
When Danny began acting out soon after we were married, it took over my life.  I took it personally -VERY personally.
My life became sexualized in ways I never thought possible.

I worked out so I would be thin and sexually attractive for Danny.
I kept the house clean so Danny would be attracted to me.
I made big efforts to attract Danny to me with my cooking.

Life became a string of domestic, physical, emotional and social performances... all for Danny.  All to be seen, to be what I viewed as loved.
I believed SEX was the most important sign of love.

I've been reflecting heavily on this lately.
I went shopping on Saturday.  Shopping can be stressful because I worry about food costs, personal preparedness, and making sure I buy food that is actually GOOD and not CRAP.
I battle the shame that comes to me from living paycheck to paycheck.
I also battle children.  The first believes we need to buy EVERYTHING for EVERYONE in the world!  The second believes we need to buy LOTS OF THINGS for HIM.  And the third runs circles around the circus, throwing chocolate and small toys in the cart while I debate the real meaning of charity with my 8-year old and check "painkillers" off the list.

A few years ago, shopping was pretty similar except I objectified women.  I viewed them as THREATS.  I felt less than.  If a beautiful woman passed by me in produce, a began sizing her up... I set myself at odds with her.  I measured her perceived strengths with my own.  I battled shame, and it had the potential to take my serenity away at best and ruin my entire day at worst.
I would never be that tan.
I would never be that fit.
I would never look so beautiful.
I would never have half the grace she possessed.

As I've worked on recovery, I haven't necessarily focused on NOT objectifying women.  I've mostly just worked on trying to let God take the wheel, on remembering that I can live my own life -a life that includes Danny but is not lived FOR Danny. I've learned about my own worth.  I've read good books about God, and I've found God everyday -all around me.  And somewhere along the line, I started seeing God in others.

My life began to strip off sexualization and objectification.
As I went the freezer section on Saturday, a very beautiful woman stood nearby.  She was VERY beautiful.  Did I say that?  I had to stop and stare for a minute -and I felt longing.
But guess what I felt right after that?
"Oh, look -she's with her parents.  She's shopping for them, caring for them.  What a sweet daughter."

And then I FORGOT about her.
It was nice to be able to admire a physically beautiful person without feeling shame, resentment or fear.  I SAW her as a daughter.

It was freeing.
Recovery is a freeing blessing that way.
I still remember the day I walked by the magazines in the check out line and SAW -REALLY SAW -the lies.  For years, I would see them and feel shame, resentment, fear... longing to see the photoshopping as LIES and not TRUTHS.

Its a truly miraculous gift of grace from God and Recovery to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and love who I see, to love the stretch lines and scars and most of the wrinkles (still struggling with those rail road tracks between my brows though).

Here's the part where I completely SWITCH THIS AROUND.  So hold on for a sec.

When I began recovery, Danny took it personally.  Just as I took his addiction personally, so did he personalize my recovery.  As I took some tiny, scared, shaking steps forward and did things like
*Buy songs on i-tunes that helped me feel empowered
*Called a sponsor
*Went to counseling

He felt threatened.  I remember asking him if he like the songs I'd bought and he told me he felt like they were the anti-Danny songs.
I remember feeling confused -the songs weren't about him at all.  Recovery was MY thing, my side of the street, my worth, my journey!

But it didn't feel that way to him -just like his addiction didn't feel that way to me.

This parallel has also brought me a great deal of reflection.
A few nights ago, Danny said, "When you started recovery, I was scared.  I was worried it would make you resentful and mean.  But what its done is made you into a really incredible woman."

That blew me away, to hear that.
I've always been incredible, but in those painful years where I thought Dr. Laura was a prophet of God, I FORGOT.
I forgot to just BE.  I forgot to create, to slow down, to live and breathe and go on walks with God.  I forgot how precious I am to Him, how precious He is to me.

I still struggle with a lot of crap, but today I'm grateful that I've taken this journey.  I'm grateful that I went as far as I did into a sexualized reality.  The journey out has brought me wisdom, friends, and a better relationship with myself and God and others.

Right now, I'm going to hop on my mat and do some yoga.  I'm going to give my soul what it needs and take a pain pill because my BODY WANTS SUGAR and I've been giving it sugar since Thanksgiving.
We're taking this week off and my head hurts.

Needless to say, I'll be working the 12-steps AGAIN after I finish this round.  I need to work it for my unruly creature side who only wants Netflix and chocolate.  It's time to make amends to my soul... step by step.

The Auschwitz Season

*** I can't thank you all enough for your outpouring of support on my last post.  It really made a HUGE difference, and if it weren't for your kind words, I know I'd have locked everything down again.  Thank you for your love. ***

 

I was recently called to teach Sunday School to 7th graders.  This is great news because it means I get to spend time NOT with peers.  Sometimes beings with peers is hard, right?  Especially in church when they talk about things that used to be normal for me and are now painful for me.

"When we said yes in marriage, we MEANT it and stayed married."
"Kids these days..."
"Doom."
"Gloom."
"If you want to stop doing something, just make a decision and DO IT."
(#whiteknuckling)

I love my 7th graders.  This last week, they spent 15 minutes teaching how to tie a tie.  They spent the rest of the time giggling over a face one of the kids were making.
And yeah -I taught 4 boys that day.

One of those boys has expressed interest in Viktor Frankl, so while I was ordering Christmas stuff on Amazon I plopped, "Man's Search for Meaning" in my cart.  When it arrived, I decided I'd better read it through before giving it to him, just in case there was graphic stuff -I didn't want his parents knocking down my lil' trailer door.

It's a fascinating read -it makes my trailer feel like palace and my oatmeal seem extravagant.

There's a passage where Frankl talks about suffering.  As he lived each day in a concentration camp (Auschwitz), he decided that the POINT of each day was suffering.  He expected suffering and faced it -not so much with valor and class everyday, but with a sense of... I don't know... duty?  He leaned into the suffering and searched for a purpose.  As a doctor fascinated with research, he imagined himself on a stage teaching others about what he'd learned in the camp.  He thought of the research paper he'd been working on, how he needed to rewrite and finish it (it had been confiscated).

This passage did something for me.  It really did.

While my life is nowhere near suffering, it is hard right now.  Trials dovetail as they never have before, and I keep sort of waiting for some reprieve.  I keep waiting for a rest stop, a breather.  But much like my body in labor, I'm not getting one.  No break between contractions and pressure, Alicia, not for you.

I've moved into a sort of acceptance.
This is my time to be uncomfortable.  Each day is uncomfortable.  Instead of flailing against it, fighting against the powers that be and WAITING for it to end so I can get back to living... I can lean into the hurt, the discomfort.
There is much to learn, much to uncover.

As I wade through health issues, I will learn more about my body.  I will grow and grow in knowledge about anatomy and science, health and nutrition, truth!

As I wade through the mess that is my marriage, I will learn about brain workings, about healthy thinking, the underestimated power of stress vs. peace.

Where are the books written for AFTER sobriety, by the way?  What comes after sobriety?  How is trust rebuilt?  How do you learn to count on each other?  Lean on each other?  Handle the burns and the hurts?
Marriage AFTER sobriety is scary too.
Funny, isn't it?  I remember thinking if I could just get rid of porn (hypothetically) everything would be SO much better.  Realizing that porn was just a sort of symptom of bigger issues was unnerving and empowering.  Awareness is ironic like that.

Tonight, I'm very uncomfortable. The point of my discomfort is knowledge.  It's a sort of search for truth and wisdom -God loves me enough to give it to me through the most effective means possible: hands on, the hard way.

It's my Auschwitz Season.

With Love

I locked you all out for awhile.

It started out from a healthy place... really and truly.  My blog was found by some folk who don't agree with the way I'm living my life, and I shut it down simply to stave off the crazy traffic surge.
"Forty days," I told myself, "A Forty-day break should do it."
During which time I committed myself to a 40-day yoga program (Baron Baptiste) and spent a lot of time re-centering.
The words from The Folks Who Found Me haunted me during this time.  Because, see, they think I'm wrong.
I have a grave fear of being wrong.

I didn't realize how deep this fear ran until I was on the mat during those 30+ days (I didn't finish the program on account of family issues).  As I moved from week-to-week, from position to position, I said to myself, "Alicia, you're doing this wrong."

Alicia, you are bending your knees and you shouldn't.
Alicia, you can't touch your feet and you should.
Alicia, your feet...
Alicia, your hands...

I would try to release tension, mind talk and my own schedule.
Even then, all I could do was, "Alicia, you're not letting go, and you should."

I know you all have an answer for me right now.  I know that my "shoulding" is wrong, and if I had a penny for every person who said, "don't should on yourself" I'd have at least 20 cents.

As I stepped off my mat and went to my kitchen to eat and wash dishes:
Alicia, you're eating wrong.
Alicia, you're washing wrong.
Alicia, couldn't you be cleaner?  healthier?

At work:
Alicia, you could be more efficient.

At the store:
Alicia, you could be saving money better, but you're not.

I have a deep-rooted fear that I'm going to live wrong, and isn't that silly?  Because isn't living wrong a given?  We ALL do it! We are all blessed with weaknesses that are our own uniquely carved pathways leading upward to God!  And don't we know it!  We feel EV.ER.Y step of that uphill incline!

Long story short:
The folks who found my blog took to a forum to discuss exactly what they thought about the way 'm handling things.  And even after I locked my blog down, they shared screen shots they'd taken.

I have spent HOURS surrendering.  And yes:
Alicia, you're feeling this wrong.  If you really believed what you're living, their words wouldn't touch you.

Ouch,Self.

I can argue their points.  I can.  I could apply myself with fervor to their assumptions and perceptions, fight back!  But you know what?  Yeah, you know what, so say it with me, "It doesn't matter."  They can believe what they want, they can say what they want, for it is given unto them.  But one things that rang true time and time again was simply this:

My people are Love People.
They come together to heal and to share.  They uplift, they strengthen.  They say hard things to me, but never out of spite... only out of love.  Christ lived the same way, saying hard things out of love.  And we have to do hard things when we love ourselves.
Please understand that right now in my life, 8 hours of sleep, three meals, and exercise all in one day is VERY hard, but it is the LOVING thing for me to do for me.

The words spoken by The Folks Who Found Me were so hate-filled, so filled with sarcasm and contempt.  It was that very hate that saved me.

There is no truth in hate.
There is no God in hate.
God is truth.
God is love.

I am love.
The Folks Who Found Me are also love, though they aren't feeling it right now.

I will say now that instead of unlocking my blog when I felt I should, I kept it locked out of fear.
Except for that one time when I unlocked it for 5 minutes and locked it again.  I conquered fear for almost 5 full minutes!
Tonight, I'm logging back in from a place of love.  My blog following is very small, my web presence inconsequential.

I don't want to be known or found or shared or loud.
I was a small, tucked away house-by-the-river, barefoot in the kitchen kind of life.

God wants me to share my life anyway.  As soon as I could talk, I shared.
It's a painful thing and a scary thing and sometimes a much-hated thing, but I know how arguing with God goes...
So at the mercy of Him, I'm back.

There is a grand chance I'll be hit with more pain, more doubt and much more opposition.
But God is with me.
Namaste.

With What Is

My mom is really good at games.  She fills out crosswords in record time, answers trivia questions with ease, and loves to watch game shows when she gets a chance.  Growing up, Jeopardy! came on right around the time Mom started making dinner, and I think it helped her manage the stress that came from feeding 7 other people for the THIRD time in one day, knowing she'd be doing it again and again and again.
"What is."
It was the most common "answer" to all of the Jeopardy! trivia.
Except it wasn't an answer, it was a question.  The maddening paradox of Jeopardy! is the "answer in the form of a question" rule because, of course, the questions were actually answers.

This last week, I found myself stuck in a place I like to call "What Is." It's a place where I find answers to questions.  Rather, it's a place where I WAIT for answers to questions.
I LOVE research.  I think I inherited my mother's hunger for information, but it came without the ribbons and fanfare... I am absolute BUNK at games and trivia and I can only finish crosswords with a cheat sheet.

Research lights me on fire, especially when I'm researching PEOPLE.  The best pay off in research in ANSWERS.  I love getting answers.

But what happens when you don't get them as you're looking for them?  What happens when there's no book to look in?  Nothing to punch into the Google search bar?  No person to call for YOUR OWN answer?

This is the place, "What Is."
Sitting in "What Is" has proven time and time again to be one of the most uncomfortable experiences of my life.  I squirm because I am NOT patient.  The lack of answers becomes more painstaking than the actual question.

There's a Zen saying -a humorous one -that goes, "Don't just do something -sit there."
Yes, it's funny.  But it is also SO FREAKING SPOT ON for me.  (I'm reading about Zen-like stuff right now.  More about that soon...)

I happened to read an article in a church magazine this last week that was really, really hard for me.  It was about pornography and there was truth in it, but I felt (and feel) there was something off.
So what IS IT?
WHY am I feeling this?

I was triggered.  I reached out and prayed, I called my sponsor.  I processed and I still felt a painful stab in my heart -I felt OFF all around, and I couldn't seem to burst out of the feeling of it all.

I WANTED TO BE OKAY while I waited, while I sat with What Was. Being calm in stressful situations is a personal goal of mine, and I was frustrated with myself -that I WASN'T calm while I waited for answers from God.  In short, I was impatient with myself and impatient with God's lack of answer.
And that double-fold impatience because heavier than the questions I had!

I was annoying myself.

Leading up to this point, God had carefully prepared me. I had gotten back into doing my dailies, and the day I'd read the article, I was in a good place emotionally, physically and spiritually. In the days leading up to my reading the article, I'd been reading a book loaned to me by a friend -it isn't a recovery book at all, but IT ACTUALLY IS.  It's a book about yoga, and as I read it, I feel like my soul is getting a massage, and sometimes I fall asleep because it just FEELS so good.

Days before reading the article, I read a passage in the book that put words to something I'd been trying to put words on for years... the place known as "What Is."

"Through patience, you can possess your soul.  When you catch yourself speeding through life, when you feel you must meet expectations and that so much of being left undone or that you're not succeeding as quickly as you think you should be, you must remember that real growth doesn't come from pushing through or breaking out of anything.  Rather, it comes through a gentle melting in.  The path of patience asks you to be okay with what is, stare it straight in the eye, and open to and learn from what's happening rather than contracting into fear, frustration, and a hidden drive to meet your expectations at any costs.  We must remember that when everything has to be right, something usually isn't." ~Baron Baptiste, "40 Days to Personal Revolution"

As I talked with my sponsor and processed my swirling reaction, I said, "I need to MELT IN."  The next day after I called her again to be accountable for my lack of serenity that was still hanging on, I left a message on her phone and then looked up at my husband and said, "I need to figure out how to be calm and find peace in WHAT IS."
So many prayers were said.
Tears popped to my eyes as I tried to force open a heart that felt hard during General Conference.

 I was reminded of another passage in the book that absolutely fascinated me.

"Each year, I conduct a weeklong bootcamp in the mountains of Montana.  A Lakota elder medicine man takes us through a sweat lodge ceremony, in which up to ten of us sit close together in a pitch-dark tent around a blazing fire, praying and chanting.  I always notice an interesting phenomenon: certain people insist on sitting right by the little exit flap of the tent.  They are adamant, claiming they must be near the door.  I have witnessed these same people break down into intense emotions, fear, and often racking sobs.  You later hear them say that as the steam and heat increased and filled the space with full intensity, they were sure that something terrible was going to happen.  They convinced themselves to stay by saying that if they were near the door, they would be able to make it through to the end.  The truth is that even if they didn't sit by the door, they would make it through.

In our total commitment to inner revolution and growth, we don't get to sit near the door.  We don't get to duck out if the process becomes uncomfortable.  We learn to stay with ourselves, no matter what." ~Baron Baptiste, "40 Days to Personal Revolution"

On Sunday, some solid answers came.  Mercifully short timing.

How can I learn to be okay while I sit in "What Is"?
There's no trivia answers, no outside answer, nothing I can read or study or outline or memorize... the answer is deeply personal to me and found deep within myself.

I can only access it by delving inside -by STAYING WITH MYSELF, no matter what.

I hope I'll get better at it, and I know it will take a great deal of practice.  My impatience is truly one of my grandest stepping stones to God (that's just a nice way of saying it's my biggest thorn in my side).

This morning, I walked outside into the fresh, crisp morning and let my toes enjoy the wet grass -it rained last night... the heavy, gorgeous kind of rain where the sheets fall so fast it looks like mythical creatures are dancing in mid-air.  This morning, everything was new.  I let my bare feet soak up the wet green grass.
How much longer will our grass be green?
I don't think about it.  I can't live in the future.  It's just a shadow of the present, as my pretend-friend James Allen says.
I keep quiet.  I had purposefully NOT checked social media before heading outside.  I pay attention to my breath, and it feels like I'm oxygenating anew my entire being -the stale air from my bedroom was exiting through my mouth as I breathed in the brand new air from the after-storm.
My mind begins to wander and I practice being gentle about pulling it back.  I'm mildly successful.  I begin my prayers, and find that as I pray and give thanks for what it around me and with me, I want to drop my hands down to my side, palms facing forward.
With my mind still and calm, my eyes closed, my palms open, mirroring my heart, I tell God I am ready.
At that exact moment, the sun burst forth from behind a dark rain cloud.  Though my eyes remained closed, I could feel the light.  I could "see" the light changing, everything brightened up behind my eyelids, and I felt God's warm love wash over me completely.

In that moment, I found that What Is was in my front yard, and that God lives forever in What Is.
What Is isn't always painful, but it always has the potential to be peaceful and it always is a place where I can learn, grow and increase in wisdom and humility.

What Is.
It's elusive and also?  The only place we really have.
The past can't be be fully lived in.
The future can't be fully lived in.
Trying to live from from either of them produces only pain, regret, and a shallow kind of life.

The present is What Is.

(I feel like I need to add a disclaimer: I took the pictures AFTER being present.  I didn't snap them in the moment because snapping pictures has the potential to sometimes take me OUT of the moment. Amen.)

Back to the Beginning

"I can learn to do that again," I said a few minutes before hanging up.  I had called my sponsor -something I've done pretty sparsely these last few months. 
Learning to do things again is something I'm becoming very familiar with.  My ego HATES it.

Yesterday I sat in my big, broken-in leather easy chair with rips on the arm.  It swallows me whole, and I understand why men on sitcoms fight their TV wives to keep their ripped recliners around.  I don't care if it's ugly -it is beautiful to me.  Life would be harder without the recliner.

I finished up a documentary I'd been mildly interested in when I clicked on it and wildly fascinated with when the ending credits rolled.  It was short -only an hour -and it was about a woman channeling healing through yoga following the death of her mother.  I was amazed to find so much truth, so much of the work I do in recovery is in yoga!  As I listened to them talk about finding and accessing serenity within, about honoring our innate, something hit me.
Something that felt really heavy.

I'd allowed myself to be talked out of honoring my innate.  I'd second-guessed, I'd doubted, and I'd allowed others to speak to me in a way that was NOT okay.
I didn't realize it was even happening in the moment.  I didn't realize it until WEEKS later.

I realized I'd spent the last few weeks in a place I'd been in before -a dark and scary place where truth and light are sparse, a snake hole... a dark tunnel, my anxiety keeping me nice and tense as I waited for an inevitable strike.

I picked up the phone and called my sponsor. After a frank conversation about my lack of REACHING OUT, she said to me, "Recognizing when our serenity is gone is one of the first pieces of the foundation of our recovery."
My shoulders fell so hard I thought they hit the floor.
First?
Foundation?
Shouldn't I be BEYOND this now?  I've been working the steps for almost 6 years!

My mind shot back to a few months before when I'd joined a meeting via phone and after leaving my first share there ever, someone remarked, "Alicia, I remember how hard it was for me when I was first starting out as well."
I laughed in a cry sort of way.

I took a walk with God last week.  I thought I was surrendering to Him what I couldn't control, but there was so much inside of me that was EATING THROUGH me.  I didn't know what to do or how to do it or where to go.  I sat on the banks of my Dad's irrigation ditch and I prayed as the Arizona sun soaked into my skin.
"I'm so sick all of the time.  What is the POINT?  Do I have a point right now?  Or is my job just to be sick?  What is there to learn from sickness?"
I vented to God and tears welled up in my tired eyes.  I talked to Him about marriage, how marriage is really very hard and how I didn't know it would be!  I didn't expect it to be EASY but I couldn't have prepared for how HARD IT IS.
How do I manage my anxiety?  Can You take it?
How do I let go of things I can't control?  Will You take them?
What can I do to get better?  What can I take or read or try?

I opened my eyes after a solid "amen" and they landed on the roots of a tree I've seen a million times before without every really SEEING.
I felt God communicate with me.
The trunk, branches and leaves of the tree were strong... but when I looked down, the roots were exposed.  This tree is a Chinese Elm -it grew spontaneously and I know from experience how hard they are to get rid of.  I truly hate them.  You can cut them, you can burn them... but unless you get at their very roots, you are wasting so many valuable hours and so much precious energy on futility.

And there.
There on the ditch bank, staring up at me, were ROOTS. The water rushing by had washed the dirt away and exposed the roots.  The tree is weak.


I snapped a picture of the roots and nodded at God.  I have been fussing over branches again.  I have been ignoring the roots again.
I have been trying to manage the symptoms that come up when I ignore the roots.  Anxiety and sickness and disconnection and confusion run rampant when I choose to stay with danger... when I choose NOT to keep myself safe, chaos takes over.  When I go to God with my discomfort, with my fear and then I TAKE ACTION... peace reigns.

I thought I was, but you know what big piece was missing?
The accountability piece.  My sponsor didn't have to say it. I knew it.  In my going to God, I was being half-heartedly accountable to Him, but I wasn't reaching out to the very precious support system in place around me.  Those angels on earth, sent to lift me as I lift them! My sisters in group, my sisters in my support circles, my sponsors (neither of them), my Bishop!

I hadn't reached out for accountability.

I set some self-boundaries with my sponsor... that I wouldn't allow myself to be disrespected and that I would call her anytime I feel my serenity taken, just for the sake of REACHING OUT and getting outside of the crazy! 

I thought my serenity hadn't been taken very much (at least, not enough to warrant reaching out) because I've worked recovery so long that there's naturally an added measure of serenity ALREADY HERE.  And you know what?  That's true.  But Satan took that truth and spoke it quietly, giving me opposition in the form of reality:

You don't need to reach out because you already know what to do.

And while I pondered on that thought -that I already knew what I needed and didn't need to bug anyone else -slowly the chains of self-doubt grew around me. Pride wrapped them quietly and surely around my very busy body.  My anxiety worsened, my health worsened!

It's hard on my pride, my ego, that I don't know things... that I don't know MORE.  It's REALLY hard.  It was hard to hear someone believe that I was in the beginning stages of recovery when in reality I'd been working solid recovery for over 5 years!  It's hard to have to say the words, "I can learn to do that again."
My pride HATES it!
But I'm beginning to accept that recovery, for me, is simply a series of beginnings... and when I veer from that place of new beginnings, I'm on The Pride Road.

Why?
Why has God marked this path out for me?
I don't know.  I wish He'd marked a path full of wisdom and knowledge that I can charitably give to the universe, but He didn't.  My path is a path of mystery, of journeys waiting for embark! discovery! for the countless "first steps!"

It's beautiful in it's own right, and when my pride takes a back seat, I can really, truly appreciate it and feel deep and abiding gratitude for it.

Today I'm learning how to recognize when a situation is not safe for me again.
I'm learning that suffering is a beautiful, sacred gift reserved for the best-loved (hint: us all).
I'm learning that I don't know anything except that I want to live small in the world and large in the camp God has within my soul.

Speak your words and I will hold them.
Reveal your weariness and I will see it.
Present your pain, and I will validate it.
Show me your path, and I will respect it.
You are God's.
God is within you.
This humbles me and empowers me because
It means I am God's.
God is within me.
Divinity is The Great Equalizer.

Here's to Step 10 (Accountability) and to roots and beginning... and here's to God, my master, my keeper, my most intimate connection to a home beyond the ditch bank lined with rouge Chinese Elms.