Sit with the Frustration

frus·tra·tion
frəˈstrāSH(ə)n/
noun
  1. the feeling of being upset or annoyed, especially because of inability to change or achieve something.

As I go back over the notes I have written during my therapy sessions one thing is abundantly clear. My therapist keeps reinterating that I need to sit with the frustration I am feeling and just be. Another thing that remains abundantly clear is I STILL struggle with this. I guess I am rather like a two year old… I want what I want, when I want it. And this means NOW.images-2

Coming from a family where life and death hung in the balance by only the newest that science could offer; that lack of control and unsettledness continues to effect me in ways that I am still unpacking and just beginning to understand. When you have life-threatening illness at your doorstep for years it doesn’t stop banging on the door just because the patient is doing better. In my case I was not the very ill child, my sister was. But in those days parents tried to protect their other children from “the truth” believing that they shouldn’t have those burdens put on them at such a young age. However, in my case, the lack of true understanding and knowledge lead to envisioning things in my mind that were probably worse than any real facts would have been. And basically since that time I have spent my life trying to mitigate surprises and always planning ahead. Frankly, this just doesn’t appear to be compatable with sitting in the silence, sitting with the unknown or sitting with frustration very well. I want purpose and I want action…NOW DAMN IT!

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Making this “sitting with frustration” even worse is that I am suppose to wait until B makes his own discoveries about himself and his own truths instead of spoon feeding my perception of the truth to him. His process is suppose to be his own process but like a famous Hollywood director I have the script already written and filmed in my mind about how the scene is suppose to go. And because feelings are on the periphary for him which makes any sort of immediate action of self-discovery difficult; I am afraid that this film is going to be WAY OVER BUDGET both emotionally and financially.

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And so I sit. Tired and frustrated. Tired of sitting. Tired of waiting. Tired of thinking about all this sitting when suddenly it occurs to me that B is probably just as tired of waiting for me to just sit. What a gift it could be it I could just be comfortable being in this limbo and in doing so freeing him up to make his own discoveries on his own timetable instead of feeling the silent pressure of my discomfort in sitting having to sit with my frustration. This realization sends a shiver of freedom down my stiff spine as I contemplate what it would be like to let others set their own timetables instead of trying to get them run on mine. And just like a passenger waiting for a delayed train getting annoyed at the situation isn’t going to change a thing and it certainly isn’t going to get the train there any faster. So today..a breakthrough… I finally “get” that I must tolerate this frustration without disappointment or anger because in the end I am not in control of it anyway.

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The Passionate Journey

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Feeling your body under mine

As we ride to far away places

In that custom saddle we created so long ago

I am reminded that the first part of our odyssey

Made me feel warm, safe, and secure

Believing that passion and love would serve us well

For many years to come

Yet, as the journey continued through our ages

To different and strange unexplored lands

I found that as we rode together we

Struggled to stay insync to the pounding rhythm of life and each other

In this saddle we created and shined to perfection together

Oh so many years ago

Then slowly our bodies began to move to different beats

The spark no longer igniting when flesh richcheted against flesh

Our timing aberrant from what had come before

Akwardly and in silence we rode through valleys so deep and low

They threatened to pull us under

As we wrapped ourselves each in our own protective gear

Bracing ourselves and sitting deep in the saddle spooning

No longer astride one another

During this long exhausting ride

The passion for this particular pilgrimage waning

The heat that once kept us warm

Cooling to small embers and threatening

To extinguish themselves all together

As the light faded and disappeared behind the mountains before us

No longer straddling one atop the another on this migration

But one of us down… crawling on the ground

Pulling the stead and partner alongimages-5

By some silent force of nature

That was unwilling to give up or give in

But yet we pressed on

Scraping raw our knees

Scooping out our souls

Our sexual natures vanished somewhere within Mother Nature herself

We traveled wearily like this for so long

Lost, together… yet alone

Until in desperation we finally reached out for the reins to steady and guide us

The accidental brushing together of two souls

Once again serving to remind us of all we have endured

And all we have yet to discover

So now we join hands to do battle

Against all that has kept us apart from one another

And we fight Mother Nature to reclaim our sexuality

The passion igniting our bodies and sweeping us together

And once again we quiver deep within one another

Grinding deep within that saddle

As we climb to the pinnacle of our lives

Looking over the ridge to the future that awaits us

Hanging on for dear life together once again

Our devotion rekindled each for the other

In that saddle that was custom made the two of us

In which we fit together so well

No longer afraid

But curious about where we will end up

On this sojourn through married life

ARE YOU KIDDING ME… NEVER TAKE FOOD FROM MY KIDS

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YOU HAVE TO BE KIDDING ME…

Sometimes I just shake my head and surrender.  I mean sometimes there is just nothing else to do but that. Today was one of those days

So I am downstairs with Paul when he says to me, “Mom, Andre dropped his pack of gum in the toilet.”

“That’s too bad,” I said.

“But Mom, he dropped his pack of gum in the toilet.”

“Did he flush it?” I ask.

“No”

“So where is it?”

“Andre has it”

“Andre,” I yell at the top of my lungs, “Come down here please.”

“Okay Mom”

“Andre, did you drop your pack of gum in the toilet?”

“Yes, Mom, I did”

“So where is it?”

“Right here,” he says pulling it out of his pocket.

Then it dawns on me….

“Andre, is the gum you are chewing, the gum you dropped in the toilet?”

“Yes, Mom”

ABA therapist T and I just stare at each other incredulous. Then T recovers and says “Andre gum that has been in the toilet has germs. Go spit it out right now!”

Andre runs to spit it out….then Paul follows right behind him and spits his out!!!

ARE YOU KIDDING ME??????? REALLY????? After that lollipop incident in the pit toilet? Didn’t you learn anything then?????????? Granted you were only five but PLEASSSSSSE that is one of the lessons that should never be repeated.

“Andre, why did you think it was okay to fish your pack of gum out of the toilet?”

“Well, I let it dry out first!”

And there you have it! Hopefully now you will remember my rule. NEVER, EVER, EVER take any food products from my children. NEVER!!!!!!!! Taking food from my kids can be hazardous to your health!!!!! Consider this to be a warning and some sort of legal publication!!!!

The Process Of I LOVE YOU

Okay, I know that at times, I go places where no married person should venture. I question, I imagine, and I play our various scenarios in my mind that really have no business being there. I am working very hard on replacing negative thoughts with super positive meditations and “canceling” the negative thoughts immediately when they enter that place my brain is suppose to be. So last night took me by surprise.

It was late. B and I were cuddling when he said, “I Love You.” He said it with love in his voice and tenderness in his heart. And I froze like a deer in the headlights. My body went cold and I felt suddenly ill.  And before I knew it I was saying these words: “How do I know that? I mean you said that to me when you were thinking you wanted a divorce. So you were saying it without really feeling it and so how do I know that when you say it now you really mean it?”

Yeah, I know. A real moment killer.

Because here is the thing. I thought he loved me. And he says he always has and always will love me even though there are times he doesn’t like me much. And I get that. And even though he is communicating his feelings more and letting me inside his head a little, I still experience fear that what he is saying isn’t what he means. And given that he is a man that honors his promises and he promised to give our marriage a year, I worry that on day 366 he will walk in saying “I kept my promise but this isn’t what a really want.”

So how do I learn to trust B and our relationship again? Time? Probably. But I think it is more than that. Somehow I have come to believe that this can be accomplished by trying to surrender my desire to control what I cannot control and I have to stop worrying about things I have no control over. Easier said than done. Yet, I am cognizant that  all this controlling/worrying is only serving to steal my energy and it leaves me feeling depleted. It also keeps me feeling lonely and isolated, none of which is helpful nor what I want. So, instead of trying to change what I don’t really have in the first place, I am trying to shift my focus (didn’t work too well last night) to those things I can control because I would rather spend my energy trying to seek joy in my life than trying to force all this negative out. I can choose to work from the positive or the negative. I CHOOSE POSITIVE…at least this minute…give me a break … it’s a process.

The Best Is Yet To Come…295 Days To Fix This

This past week-end was incredible.

Picture this…the roar of winter waves as they foamed, churned and crashed their way to a rocky stone-strewn shore. Sunsets of deep red, yammering yellows and passionate purples sinking below the marine layer as two 29 years marrieds held each other close. Hummingbirds floated in the garden while slimy banana slugs inched their way to freedom under the garden gate. And quite. Total 100% almost eerie quite… with no yelling for a “Mom” to break up an invisible fight. For three magical days we had time for just us.

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We walked the cliffs looking out over the Pacific, talking quietly and taking time to smell the roses along the way. We ate fancy dinners over whispered salacious conversations that would embarrass our older children for many years to come had they heard them. We walked around naked in the house, walls of plate-glass windows be damned. We treated each other as our best friend. We cuddled, we smooched, we laughed, and we played games like young lovers do with sweet barely there caresses that make the body POP! But mostly we just enjoyed one another from the top of our heads down to the tips of our toes and all places in-between; free to be ourselves like we used to be B.C. (before children)

I thought all was going well. Everything felt sweet and in its proper place on the emotional horizon. B was opening up. He was sharing. He was listening. And he was really there participating on every level. And then it happened and I was left with the sweat of utter terror that consumed me in a matter of seconds. I looked over at B and saw tears slowly sliding down his checks. Real tears from a man who I have only seen cry about four times in almost 30 years. And my first thought was “This is it. He is going to tell me…I did it…I tried…but I cannot keep going on with us, with you. It’s over.”

And I waited for the impact of his imagined words, like a tsunami breaking all that stands in its path.

But he didn’t say them. Instead, his cheeks trembled slightly and his eyes filled even more.

“What’s wrong?” I whispered so still and so scared that a slight wind could have picked up the letters of each word and floated them away.

“I am just so happy,” B said. “I’ve missed you. I’ve missed us. Spending time with you reminds me of just how much I love you and how happy we can be together. I just want us to be with each other now and forever.”

And I collapsed into his strong arms that I realized can hold my weight, our dreams, my fears and our future as we continue to figure out exactly what that future looks like… together.

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How Do I Learn To Trust Again?… 330 Days To Fix This

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How do I learn to trust you again?

When a man doesn’t share his feelings, keeps everything close to the vest, inhabits your world but doesn’t let you inhabit much of his; how do you learn to trust his words and actions and believe what he says?

When a man fails to tell you of his despair and comes to you with, “I think I may want a D.I.V.O.R.C.E.,” how do you know that he won’t walk through the door, pack his bags, and just leave even though he tells you he is happy now?

Like a Greek tragedy, I just can’t forget your words as easily as you dismiss your intentions. I see/hear your words, D.I.V.O.R.C.E. re-playing in my head, scratchy and skipping parts like an old movie soundtrack. They are rough like the ocean banging into the rocks on the shore, removing a grain of the rock every time it gets hit. Your words echo in my head.

You tell me everything is so much better…for who?  For who is it better? How do I know that your words honor the truth of what you are feeling deep inside in those places you refuse to share with me? Because I don’t feel better and I am not sure how you could feel better about our relationship, so easily, and with such little effort.

Sure we laugh more, since you outed some of your feelings. And the sex is incredible. And the house looks great. But I don’t feel better because I don’t trust that this is real. I don’t trust that this, that I, am enough for you because I have so often not been. Yeah, those “harmless” flirty texts they have done a number on me and my trust is serrated instead of smooth. My trust in you, in us, and in myself is lacking. It’s incomplete.

Because how do you go from miserable and “I may want a D.I.V.O.R.C.E.” to everything is great…and I am happy in 35 days? I don’t trust this. I don’t trust you. But I want to. Desperately.

How do I learn to trust again?

I wish I knew.