Simply Put

Not By Shadows, But By Light

Flannery O'Connor is dear to me.

I really, really love her way with words.  See:

Frank.  She shoulda been called Frank.

When someone has a truly great relationship with and passion for words, I feel something well up inside of me.  A spark, maybe?  I don't know... it's almost as if words make a person immortal.  Certain passages have a way of reaching into my soul, and I feel in those moments as if I'm linked to the author by a bond surpassing anything mortal.

A deeply personal SOUL hug?

Suddenly it doesn't matter that Emily Dickinson isn't recluding away in her bedroom right now because she's long since passed away because I KNOW THE TRUTH and the truth is that Emily is my own bosom friend.  Her words have immortalized her, endeared her, and become her.

Today, I found a few words written by Flannery O'Connor.  They were written in a journal, perhaps a journal that was never meant to be read?  Perhaps that's why she's so vulnerable and honest?

But, OH, how grateful I am.  I feel less alone.
Flannery O'Connor has also been immortalized because of her words -she is always with us, always sustaining and inspiring us.  Her spirit is on earth, floating around libraries and Pinterest and landing in our laps like a neighbor popping in for an unexpected visit.
Except Flannery doesn't care about laundry on the floor and clingy toddlers because she's dead.  And dead people have impeccable perspective.
Probably.

Snippets

Lately I've found myself stumbling on great stuff that just really hits home with healing, so I take out my phone and snap a picture.  I'm posting them all here so I don't lose them in the mass of selfies my kids have been taking.
Seriously.  THE MASS.

A poem from my husband's cousin's funeral program.

Sometimes I feel so awfully alone.  When I'm online, there's TONS of support.  One click onto facebook and there's my support.  But when I log off (which I've been doing more of these days), there's a dark lie in the back of my mind that creeps out when I go to church.
"You're alone.  No one understands you, no one is talking about this.  You're the only one."

I know it's not true, and yet...

In my increase of logging off, I've picked up Jane Eyre again.  Have you ever read it?  There's a lot of truth in it.
Here's some words of wisdom from Helen Burns (may she rest in fictional literature peace):

Another Jane Eyre quote I love, "The shadows are as important as the light."  It gives a beautiful sort of purpose to the depression I'm battling.
So glad I wrote this down to rediscover a few days ago:

A quote shared in support group today:

(snagged that beaut' off Pinterest. ^^^^)

And lastly is an original work of art brought to you by me and Lifestar.  Or should that read "Lifestar and I"?

Either way:
I was supposed to come up with an artistic representation of what codependency looks like to me.
As I thought about this, and I thought about how I feel about codependency... I came up with a collage.

First I want to just get this out there: I do struggle with control.  I want to control people and things and places and situations, and YES even movie plot lines.  THAT ties into codependency.
And when you tie in the trauma survival technique of doing codependent things... you get a pretty nice mess of a girl sitting on rock bottom with a blanket and a few boxes of Little Debbie snacks.

What does that world look like to me?  How has it shaped my life?
I put my phone on mute and listened in on a recovery meeting as I pulled out my old magazines and started tearing.  I penciled in some train tracks in the middle of the page, glued a train on top... then glued my face UNDER the train tracks and heavy, black train.
I tore strips of black pages up and glued them around the train: fear, shame...

I carefully cut out bright patterns and colors that caught my eye.  I glued them around me.

I know I have worth.  I know I'm a beautiful creation with tastes and gifts and purpose!  I believe in the girl who lives a creative life of bright colors and crazy ideas.
But when shame comes.
When fear creeps.
Worried about what others think, afraid of rejection, of being alone, of being left...

Railroaded.
I'm railroaded.

That's what codependency means to me.

But you know what I did today?  I cancelled three piano lessons on today's roster because they were just too much.
I was afraid of upsetting parents, but I did it.

Now there's less time for overscheduledness and more time for Jane Eyre and watermelon.
And color.

Forgiveness is Hard

I have experienced the utter miracle of being able to forgive my husband for looking at porn -for looking and lusting and desiring other women.

It used to seem so impossible, and it was!  It was impossible for a very long time, but I always kept in on the radar.  And one day, it came.  It opened windows in my brain and let fresh air, sunshine, music, and beauty in.  Life seemed lighter, more hopeful and lovely.  It was a miracle -miracle is the ONLY word that even comes close to describing it, and even then it seems to fall a little short.

At the encouragement of my sponsor, I met with the Bishop yesterday.  She encouraged me to have regular meetings with him.  I couldn't figure out why, but since she's rhylly insightful, I always hearken to her counsel -at least to try it on for size and see if it's for me or not.

"How are you feeling about forgiveness?" He asked.
And I was stumped.  I had no answer.

I HAVE forgiven him.  I have!  It was hard, but I forgave him for the porn.

But guess what?  I'm still feeling anger, I'm still grieving.  I'm still hurting.
I still have need of forgiving my husband for other hurts -for his Jekyllness, his anger, his outbursts, his taking of my safety... I don't even want to go on with the list for reasons I'll outline below.

It was an inspired question for me.  My Bishop made it overwhelmingly and lovingly clear that he felt inspired to ask it and wanted me to know that he wasn't attempting to pressure me into something I wasn't ready for, and there was no shame in not being ready.

Forgiveness is officially back on the radar.
I'm not ready for it, and here's why:
#1) Needing for forgive means that I have been hurt which means I've been weak enough to let him hurt me again.  And by weak I mean stupid.
#2) Needing to forgive means that I'm accusing someone of hurting me.  Accusing people is not nice.  It's unChristlike.  I want to be Christlike, so I can't go around telling the Lord that his beautiful son hurt me. 

I didn't realize I felt that way until last night.
Those are my forgiveness roadblocks right now.

I listened to an interview Polly and her husband did with The Mormon Channel, and I heard them talk about Jekyll.  They described him as being an enemy of his spouse, and it really does feel that way.  My husband loves me, but I don't feel love when the other side of him comes out.  I feel... everything my enemy would WANT me to feel: unsafe, small, unloved, ridiculous...
And it brought to mind the words of Oscar Wilde.  If inner peace simply isn't reason enough to strive for forgiveness, there's always this:

I've had a lot of honest clarity lately... it's becoming abundantly clear that I've got so much work to do.  I've been working recovery for almost THREE YEARS and I have SO MUCH work to do.  I want to be depressed about it, but because I've been working recovery for three years, I can testify that I've gained more than I've lost and in a funny sort of way, I'm excited to gain more.

Last night, I faced some honesty with regards to intimacy.  It was no fun, and I'll probably cry a river into my bath this morning.
And then blog about it later.
Have I ever thanked you for always being there for me?  You're a doll.

Steeled

"I'm told that steel is forged by heavy blows, 

If only men were steel, but then, who knows?" 

~John Borling 

~Staci Eldredge