You Get What You Give

This song popped into my head today. I'm not sure exactly what prompted it, but I like its message:

Wake up kids
We've got the dreamers disease
Age 14 we got you down on your knees
So polite, you're busy still saying please
Fri-enemies, who when you're down ain't your friend
Every night we smash their Mercedes-Benz
First we run and then we laugh till we cry
But when the night is falling
and you cannot find the light
If you feel your dream is dying
Hold tight
You've got the music in you

Yes I do -- have the music in me, that is. And that's a relief. As I attempt to sleep off this year's Thanksgiving -- and I don't mean the food -- I needed this pep talk from my inner ipod:

Don't let go
You've got the music in you
One dance left
This world is gonna pull through
Don't give up
You've got a reason to live
Can't forget you only get what you give

I know that's true, and I know that I give the best sort of love to my children, friends and lovers -- the kind that respects who they are as individuals, the kind that is empathetic, playful, sensitive, considerate and without conditions -- and in many respects, that's what I get back.

It is also true that I'm still one man in my bed short of living my dream life, but I am choosing to trust the New Radicals when they say that somehow, someway, following my heart is all I really need to do:

This whole damn world can fall apart
You'll be ok follow your heart

The Sins of A Family

I'm listening to a book in the car called Emotional Freedom by Judith Orloff. It's a good one. I'm learning a lot. While listening recently she made reference to this song, which feels apropos today, my father's birthday:

She had a bad childhood
While she was very young
So don't judge her too badly
She had a schizophrenic mother
Who worked in the gutter
Would have sold herself
To the devil gladly
What a sad environment
A bugridden tenement
And when they couldn't pay the rent
It was 'cause her father was out
Getting sicker
Oh, the stone's been cast
And blood's thicker than water
And the sins of the family fall on the daughter
All the sins of the family fall on the daughter

Now my childhood had its challenges  -- not the same kind of challenges described in these lyrics -- and I think it's safe to say that the sins of the family fell on the daughter (or daughters -- but I won't speak for my sister).

But I'm happy to say that after nearly ten years of a concerted effort to heal from said childhood, I felt free to celebrate my father's birthday today, to celebrate him, and the father and grandfather that he is today. He's not perfect, but he's my Dad, and I'm a grown woman now. I don't feel the need to keep punishing him, especially now that I know doing so would also punish me and impede my ability to parent my children. No thanks!

Linger

This morning I organized a special Thanksgiving morning yoga practice with my fellow Ashtanga practitioners, which felt really great. A perfect start to the day.

From there I went to the gym, ran a 5K on the treadmill, and then headed home for a bath. I wanted to do everything I could to shore myself up for my family gathering.

On the drive home from the gym, this song came on the radio -- fitting not just because of the reason cited by the DJ -- it's Thanksgiving and the band is the Cranberries -- but because my friend and cousin's wife who I always especially miss at family gatherings LOVED this song:

If you, if you could return, don't let it burn, don't let it fade.

I'm sure I'm not being rude, but it's just your attitude,
It's tearing me apart, It's ruining everything.

I swore, I swore I would be true, and honey, so did you.
So why were you holding her hand? Is that the way we stand?
Were you lying all the time? Was it just a game to you?

But I'm in so deep. You know I'm such a fool for you.
You got me wrapped around your finger, ah, ha, ha.
Do you have to let it linger? Do you have to, do you have to,
Do you have to let it linger?

Oh, I thought the world of you.
I thought nothing could go wrong,
But I was wrong. I was wrong.
If you, if you could get by, trying not to lie,
Things wouldn't be so confused and I wouldn't feel so used,
But you always really knew, I just wanna be with you.

But I'm in so deep. You know I'm such a fool for you.
You got me wrapped around your finger, ah, ha, ha.
Do you have to let it linger? Do you have to, do you have to,
Do you have to let it linger?

I like this song too, but these days, I'm trying to put the onus on myself. Do I have to let it linger? I don't know. There's a big part of me that would rather not be in the position that I'm in. I'd rather feel just about anything other than as helpless as I feel at the moment. But I don't want to try to force myself to feel differently than I do. Besides, I have a feeling learning to be in the discomfort and uncertainty is the lesson.

Do we get to choose the finger we get wrapped around? Can we unwrap ourselves once it happens? I don't rightly know. As uncomfortable as it may be, I'm just going to have to try to be patient until an answer of some sort comes...

Grateful

In preparation for Thanksgiving with my extended family, I prioritized going to Alanon tonight -- even over being snuggled in my bed which was where I wanted to be with this freezing cold weather. As always, I was glad I did. Meetings always help put things in perspective for me -- both with my own healing journey and by seeing the plight of others -- much of which is worse than mine.

One person said that when he couldn't find anything in his own life to be grateful for, he thought of things he was glad hadn't happened to him, which reminded me of this Yiddish Proverb:

“If you cannot be grateful for what you have received, then be thankful for what you have been spared."

And so, on this eve of Thanksgiving, I am grateful for both what I have been spared and all the blessings of this life, many of which I have in common with my friend Art Garfunkel:

I've got a roof over my head
I've got a warm place to sleep
Some nights I lie awake counting gifts
Instead of counting sheep
I've got a heart that can hold love
I've got a mind that can think
There may be times when I lose the light
And let my spirits sink
But I can't stay depressed
When I remember how I'm blessed
Grateful, grateful
Truly grateful I am
Grateful, grateful
Truly blessed
And duly grateful
In a city of strangers
I got a family of friends
No matter what rocks and brambles fill the way
I know that they will stay until the end
I feel a hand holding my hand
It's not a hand you can see
But on the road to the promised land
This hand will shepherd me
Through delight and despair
Holding tight and always there
Grateful, grateful
Truly grateful I am
Grateful, grateful
Truly blessed
And duly grateful
It's not that I don't want a lot
Or hope for more, or dream of more
But giving thanks for what I've got
Makes me happier than keeping score
In a world that can bring pain
I will still take each chance
For I believe that whatever the terrain
Our feet can learn to dance
Whatever stone life may sling
We can moan or we can sing
Grateful, grateful
Truly grateful I am
Grateful, grateful
Truly blessed
And duly grateful
Truly blessed
And duly grateful.

Fire and Rain

Today I went to a "wellness day" at the place where I go for my trauma recovery group. It started with a breath practice for grief, which was difficult, but also useful, and my biggest takeaway from that is that I can let whatever is causing the grief -- in my case being separated from my love -- into my heart. I don't have to push it away, as I have tried to do. I can let it in. So I'm going to keep working on that, the theory being that once I can just let it be there, I'll be freer in the rest of my life.

Next I went to a talk that was supposed to be about the attachment loss experienced by those of us who went through developmental trauma, but it actually wasn't really about that. It was about how to approach yourself and world with openness, curiousity, even-handedness and love. It was definitely useful, and I asked the presenter a question about how to apply it to my situation with the New Englander. I found her answer really helpful. She said that it might be about accepting my love for him as part of my path, and similarly, accepting the pain that comes from the separation as part of my path in this life too. There's something pretty peaceful about that, so I'm trying my best.

The last session I went to before heading to my sister's to pick up my kids was Reiki with a new practitioner -- not the one I usually see. She had two takeaways for me: 1) there's nothing to be done about my situation, I just need to be with it (sounds familiar!); 2) I need to work on receiving.

I picked up some free books on my way out the door, one of which is called The Healing Path of Prayer. I started reading it today, and as I did, I heard this classic on the internal sound system:

Won't you look down upon me, Jesus, You've got to help me make a stand.
You've just got to see me through another day.
My body's aching and my time is at hand and I won't make it any other way.
Oh, I've seen fire and I've seen rain. I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end.
I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend, but I always thought that I'd see you again.

Been walking my mind to an easy time, my back turned towards the sun.
Lord knows when the cold wind blows it'll turn your head around.
Well, there's hours of time on the telephone line to talk about things to come.
Sweet dreams and flying machines in pieces on the ground.

Oh, I've seen fire and I've seen rain. I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end.
I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend,
but I always thought that I'd see you baby, one more time again, now.

Thought I'd see you one more time again.
There's just a few things coming my way this time around, now.
Thought I'd see you, thought I'd see you, fire and rain, now.

I still do think I'll see him, just don't know where or when. In the meantime, I'm hoping to open up some channels that may well have been closed for a while...

No One Else Like You

A few days ago, Netflix delivered Begin Again to my doorstep, and uncharacteristically, I watched it that very night. I'd been looking forward to seeing it, thinking it would offer an emotional catharsis for me.

I was disappointed. No emotional catharsis. I didn't even think it was that good of a movie, to be honest, even though the friend that recommended it to me usually has my tastes pretty well pegged.

The best thing I can say for it is it has a decent soundtrack, including this song:

Woah
Oh, yeah

Is everything just right
Don't want you thinking that I'm in a hurry
I want to stay your friend
I have this vision that has got me worried
Because everyone wants someone
That's one cliche that's true
The sad truth's I want no one
Unless that someone's you

I can relate, except that it doesn't feel like a sad truth right at the moment. Just a truth:

And looks like you
And feels like you
And smiles like you
I want someone just like you
Through and through
I'm forever blue
Because there's no one else like

I hope that you're not mad
You always said you want a man of action
I'm not the hottest lad, no
There's more to life than physical attraction
You got your special someone
But between me and him, guess who
Will spend their whole life waiting
For someone just like you

That looks like you
That feels like you
That smiles like you
I need someone just like you
Love me true
I'm forever blue
Because there's no one else like

Woah

I want you in my arms
I see you in my dreams
I'm gonna make you mine
As crazy as it seems

And also, I'm not gonna make the New Englander mine, because I can't. If I had that power, I would've done it a long time ago. Instead, I have to let go, turn it over, do all those things that I'm no good at it. It's ok, though, growth in those areas is a good thing...

Dearly Departed

Life's just easier when the sun shines for this girl

Yesterday was a tough day. It started off well enough -- practicing yoga with one of my favorite practice partners. But then it devolved into a visit to the dermatologist, which, as per usual, resulted in a biopsy, this time from the top of my forehead. If you look closely in the photo, you can see the spot -- not as well as you could have seen it yesterday, mind you, when my Dr. clearly marked it, like a bullseye, with a bright blue marker.

Then in the afternoon, I had the distinct honor of visiting my dentist for a crown repair. This morning a friend left me a voicemail telling me that "applying a growth mindset, it was actually smart to get those both out of the way in the same day." Mmmmaybe, but it didn't feel good. I guess growth kinda doesn't though, does it?

In any case, after those two encounters, I crawled into bed for a nap, which, on such a cold day, was delightful. And I probably would've stayed there, right up until it was time to get up for yoga at 4:30 this morning, except that I had to give a guest lecture last night. That's right, with a bullseye on my forehead. I also had to meet the professor, who is also a friend and colleague, for dinner beforehand. So up I rose, and it's probably a good thing I did, because this morning when I got to work, I had an email from one of the students thanking me for the "heartfelt, inspiring" presentation and asking me to consider running for State Superintendent. Which, I gotta say, made me feel pretty great.

That email was just one of the pieces of love I received today -- I think in part because I had a moment yesterday when I kinda cried out to whoever was listening: "Really? This is what you've got for me? One hit after another? No breaks?"

Another piece of love was a text from a close friend asking how things were going and saying she was thinking of me. Another was a phone call from a friend and colleague on his drive to work this morning. And another was a text from another friend, one I'd confided in earlier in the week, saying she was thinking of me and giving me the link to this song:

Oooooh
Oooooh
Oooooh
Oooooh

Well
You and I both know that the house is haunted
And you and I both know that the ghost is me
You used to catch me in your bed sheets just rattlin your chains
Well back then baby, it didn't seem so strange

Even when one is dead and gone (or, say, once again living in New England)
It still takes two to make a house a home
Well I'm as lonesome as the catacombs
I hear you call my name but no one is there
Except a feeling in the air

You and I both know that the house is haunted
Yeah you and I both know that the ghost is you
Used to walk around screaming, all slamming all 'dem doors
Well I'm all grown up now, I don't scare easy no more

Yeah, you and I both know
Oooohh
Yeah, you and I both know
Oooohh
Yeah, you and I both know
Oooohh
Oooohh

Yeah, you and I both know. But it's ok. Really. I asked my first love how long it took him to get over his biggest heartbreak -- and he said at least 2 years. So I'm doing ok. By one measure -- when the New Englander left Madison -- it's been 18 months, but by another -- the last time we communicated -- it's been a week. In either case, I've got time. It's ok that the house still feels haunted today. I can handle it, and I trust that one day it won't.

Overall, I gotta say, today was soooo much easier than yesterday. Today I had a lovely early morning practice with another favorite yoga buddy followed by breakfast from one of my favorite spots -- Lazy Jane's. Then work for a few hours, followed by a haircut and brow wax (note the after photo above), more work, then acupuncture, then parent teacher conferences for my son. Who is seriously rocking high school.

Yep, lots to celebrate. And lots of love.

On a more somber note, it feels apropos that this song is marking this day not just because my friend sent it to me, but because another friend's husband's mother died today. I'm sending out lots of love to her and her family and everyone else out there with a dearly departed loved one -- whether the departure is permanent or not -- I know it hurts like crazy...