Truth...Stranger Than Fiction

Today is Damien's 15th birthday - the first of his 15 birthdays that I've not been with him, and it kinda hurts. Another sure sign that it is the end of an era. Fifteen years since Damien's birth, and so fourteen years with James. As if it's all coming full-circle, Life...the Universe itself...seems to have brought me to a pivotal ending and a pivotal beginning. I feel like I have crossed over...entered a new realm...and in several literal ways, I have: new degree & credentials, new job and new experiences with making financial decisions. New place to live. New furniture. New car. New responsibilities. New hopes and dreams...new passions. I was feeling as if I was getting a little bit closer to gaining some sense of resolve that, although my life has been tragic at times, in the end, I managed to pull it together and emerge as a more fully-cohesive me. Now it appears that there will be a potential twist in the story...an unforeseen fork in the road...and perhaps even a one-in-a-million opportunity to proceed mindfully, willfully, with insight and hindsight...and the conviction to support the weight of a thickening plot. I remind myself to not jump to conclusions, make assumptions, or get my hopes up too high. And yet, some would say there has been foreshadowing every step of the way. Some would say that Fate and Destiny are involved. And then I wondered: What exactly IS Fate? And what is Destiny?? It's "when it is all finished and you discover it wasn't random." Eventually everything connects and makes sense and while you "may not end up where you thought you were going," you realize that you will "always end up where you were meant to be." Apparently, there is a lot more to my story; it is important that I enter the next chapter of my life with trust because, after all, I am the author (at least to a large degree in terms of how I respond to Fate and Destiny). It seems we often meet our Fate on the road we take to avoid it - or so I've heard. "Yes there are two paths you can go by but in the long run, there's still time to change the road you're on." "And it makes me wonder..."

Maple Helicopters and Little Boys

While going about my housework today, I noticed the annual accumulation of what, as a child, we called "helicopters." Some kids called them whirlybirds. They are the seeds from Maple trees and every year during late spring, they spin-fall by the hundreds and thousands to the ground. When I saw them, a memory came forth of a long-ago Spring day...

My mom brought me and my two sisters (the third sister had not been conceived yet) to a friend's house. Was her name Jean? She had boys. Three boys as I recall. We were all instructed to go play in the yard.

My memory brought back automatic thoughts and feelings: I don't like boys. I feel intimidated by these boys. They play too rough. They are all about climbing and running and pushing and shoving. They were daring in their play. And they were loud. I don't like these little boys because I felt vulnerable.

It was the time of year that the maple 'copters were everywhere, falling and fallen. We began to play with them, throwing handfuls of them into the air, delighted by their spinning as they returned to the ground. This was okay. This kind of play was more comfortable. At some point, I decided it would be fun to pick out the seed. I sat in the grass and began peeling away at the endless supply, exposing their inner green seed. I felt less anxious. I could focus on what I was doing and the boys did not seem interested in my more sedate type of play. In fact, I think they made fun of what I was doing. Minimized the value of my activity. They climbed up into their metal clubhouse. I stayed on the ground. Kinda symbolic?

And then I had an insight, as this childhood memory flashed through my brain, start-to-finish in a matter of seconds. Truth is, I'm still not comfortable with males. I still feel a sense of vulnerability when I am outnumbered by men because to me they are, after all, just bigger little boys. And when I feel this same sense of intimidation, I find something to do that requires detachment from them and focus on whatever I can that will take me away. It allows me to politely say, "I can't. I'm busy right now. I'm doing THIS." Avoidance. My most-used coping skill.

Wow. All that from seeing a freakin' whirlybird!

Surely I've Exceeded Expectations...or...It Is Finished

I don't know where to begin, or what to say, other than: I'm processing.

I am processing a loss that triggered a much larger loss, that, when viewed retrospectively, shows an even larger loss. I'll try to explain...

I've been working on a master's degree in clinical mental health counseling since 2011. All of my required coursework was completed in May 2015. I earned A's in all of my classes except one (PsychoPharmacology, I got a B). Since that time (and even prior) I've been trying to secure an internship - a required finish to the program. In essence, I needed 240 direct client contact hours and 360 indirect hours, some of which I've already completed. I was told I would need to audio-record all sessions with clients (with their consent, of course). Then, when I finished my internship, I would do my defense where I would present one of my cases to my professors and would have to defend my choice of treatment strategies against their questioning and scrutiny.

Most of my academic colleagues were fearful of defense; I was not. I felt that I would be able to defend my counseling strategies successfully; I knew I had been trained well and in all honesty, I function best (most professionally) when I am at the front of the class, behind that podium.

Trouble is, I was never able to secure an internship in the time allowed. I sent out countless resumes and had multiple interviews. Some places were even willing to take me on, but in the end, for various reasons, they all fell through. The biggest deterrent for me was finding an internship location that was close enough for me to drive to. Since the car accident in 2008 that damaged my vision, I do not drive highways. Still, there are quite a few counseling agencies and practices in the area, and i sent resumes to them all it seems. Still, nothing worked out.

Most recently, I received a very unexpected call from a private group practice nearby (less than an hour's drive from home). Both the owner of the practice and her daughter had graduated from GSU's counseling program, which i believed would be in my favor. Then I saw the place and felt even more certain that this would be the place for me...that all the other places had failed because the Universe was saving THIS one for me: it was situated in an old, early- 20th century home on the community's main street having all the charm and homey ambiance that I so enjoy. I felt, upon entering the building, that it looked as if I had done their interior decorating!! And then, the interview: it went well (from my perspective); I felt comfortable. I think I was able to be both relaxed and personable as well as professional and to-the-point. Upon completing the interview, I got the impression that there was no question that the position was mine. They never said anything about giving them time to "think it over" or that they'd "get back to me." They instead took the Memorandum of Agreement (the contract to be signed by me, the agency, and the university, that outlines expectations). They and I shared only one concern: would they be able to provide me with the direct client contact hours i needed in the short time i had to complete the internship (240 hours from January to April). They asked me to give my supervising professor their contact info to have him contact them so they could resolve that.

I drove home feeling on top of the world. I felt like it was mine and that it was meant to be. I got to work right away contacting my professor and the program supervisor to inform them that i'd been interviewed and that it looked like I had an internship at the very last moment. They responded quickly, telling me that my supervising professor would be on sabbatical but that there were other professors available to supervise me. And, much to my amazement, the program supervisor approved an extension on my internship, giving me until August to complete! I emailed the update to the agency where I interviewed and felt such a sense of pride knowing that in a matter of weeks i'd be working on my internship and that finally my dreams were becoming reality.

I had worked so hard, these past six years. I gave it my all. I put my heart and soul into it. It shaped me into the professional I was eager to officially become. This wasn't just for me; it was for my kids. I wanted them to be proud of me. And, because I'm not getting any younger, my plan was to buy a house, get a 15-year mortgage, and then have it paid off so that when I die, it would go to them. This way, they would always have a home if they needed a place. Or, if they decided to sell it and split the profit, that would also be an option, once I was gone. Besides, we desperately need to move out of the community where we currently live; finding another place to live was a huge reason why I was looking forward to getting my degree, my license, and an eventual paycheck.

One week prior to the start of the semester, I had been trying to reach the group practice where i'd interviewed; i wanted to be sure we were all on the same page and that there were no loose ends. The winter holidays were over; it was time to put it all into gear. In spite of text messages, voicemail messages and emails, I was not hearing back from them, and i began to get nervous. In fact, I began to suspect there was a problem. And then I got the email stating that they needed to retract their offer because they just didn't think they'd be able to provide me with the clinical, direct client contact hours i would need. BAM! Just like that, it was over.

It's been a week now. One week since my future disappeared right before my eyes. I'm left with nothing. In fact, I do not even know who i am right now. For six years, I have been trained to act like a professional, to dress like a professional, to think like a professional, to BE a professional - and now?? Now I am a nothing, nor will i ever BE anything. I will never be anything more that what i've always been: just a stay-at-home mom with no work history and big plans that never amounted to anything. I've wasted time and money. I've invested so much and lost even more. And there is no Plan B.

Inner Aches and Pains

It has been over six years since my youngest daughter's suicide, and since that time, I have been in a spiritual void. The things I used to believe and the things that used to inspire me have ceased to exist along with my daughter. I was told I am in a Dark Night, but that eventually, the sun would rise again. For the past year or so, I have seen a bit of light on the horizon, but it is a new horizon for me; the landscape is not what it used to be.

In some ways, I feel as though the Spiritual world is calling me, gently nudging me, and attempting to lead me out of this darkness. I've had the urge to go to church, but not for the dogma; instead, I am craving sacred space. I am drawn to the ancient cathedrals: the stained glass, the smell of incense, candles lit, and soft chanting in the background. I want the ritual of church - but not all the Christian beliefs that are attached to it.

These past six years, I have found myself both fearing and resenting mortality. It is too final. The timing of death is never right, it seems. Why can't I live forever? Why do I have to die? And most of all, why can't I know what happens after death?? IS there an afterlife, or do we simply cease to exist?

During these same six years, I have been obsessed with the paranormal, being open to the possibility but at the same time, wrestling with my rational mind's explanations for anything that appears to be supernatural.

All I have are hopes and fears. I hope there is an afterlife. I hope there is a way I can connect with the other side. I hope that consciousness is eternal. I hope that reincarnation is an afterlife possibility. It's the not-knowing however that instigates the fears. I fear that I will die prematurely. I fear that there is nothing after death. I fear that someday I will simple disappear forever. I fear this has all been meaningless.

I struggle with reconciling my life. I seem to have created a legacy of pain, but perhaps it did not start with me; perhaps it is simply a generational echo that filters down from one generation to the next. Either way, I look at what I've done in my life and I feel mostly regrets, shame, and sorrow for the pain I've caused. I caused pain by things I've done, and by the things I should have done, but did not. And now, here I am, living a tragic life story. I'm where I need to be, but I am not where I want to be; cognitive dissonance for sure. The gap between who I am and who I wish I was has widened, especially since Christina's death, and yet, paradoxically, it has narrowed. Since her death, I've become wiser, both intellectually and emotionally. I have become painfully aware of the errors I've made in my younger, more productive years, and have learned from those mistakes; but pay the price of having not learned sooner (and my grown children pay the price as well).

I struggle to reconcile what could have been, what should have been, and what is. I struggle with the huge sense of loss that I feel, on so many levels. It's as if I've lost my entire life. I spent my life running, searching, longing, trying - always trying so hard - and in the end, I still fell short. This is not what I envisioned for myself. This is not where I imagined I'd be right now; and yet, it all fell into place as if I had been destined to be right here, right now.

Ironically, I continue to search, to reach, to seek. I continue to crave the sense of "all is well." I want contentment. That is what it all boils down to: I want to feel content, and I'm not sure that I have ever felt that - or worse, that I ever will. All my dreams and desires have been so elusive; they emerge and appear to be right at my fingertips and just as I'm about to grab hold, it vanishes. So many times. So many could've-been-scenarios: I could've been a midwife. I could've been a nurse. I could've been a teacher. I could've been a counselor. I could've been a writer. Instead, however, I look at what I am: just a fucked up nobody living a life in the hole I dug for myself and up against the images of all the potential outcomes that faded away. So close, and yet so far. And still, I search, carrying the heavy weight of both Hope and Fear, feeling like a failure, but knowing that, somewhere, deep inside of me, there is a woman of extraordinary capability, stunted and restrained by generational blows to the psyche and soul, wounded and nearly extinguished, and yet always yearning to be released. And there resides the tragedy: Exceptionality reduced to insignificance. Potential restrained. Authenticity captured by legacy and fate.

Cognitive distortions or factual insights based on honest self-reflection???

Family Shadows

Two of my sisters and I have purchased an online course that proposes to "release" us from "family karma" and it is composed of several lessons. The main idea is that families generally confront one (or more) of seven "shadows" that taint their lives and infiltrates the family tree for generations. The seven shadows are abuse, addiction, violence, poverty, illness, abandonment, and betrayal.

Only two lessons into this course, my sisters and I chatted on messenger about what we've concluded thus far about our family shadows, agreeing that, for our family, we are overshadowed by abuse, abandonment, and betrayal and that those shadows have been the root cause of the other shadows present in our family: addiction, violence, poverty, and illness.

Examining the generational patterns, it has become profoundly clear just how insidious family shadows can be, as each generation spontaneously re-enacts the same dramas, not realizing that history is repeating itself until it is too late and the damage is done. Initially, we simply take comfort in the familiarity of our interactions, not recognizing the perpetuation of abuse and despair. If we happen to have moments where we find ourselves unhappy and asking "why, oh why is this happening to me," we even then do not usually recognize the repetition of inherited dysfunction, but rather, the source remains subconsciously submerged.

We (my sisters and I) noted that the traumas we experienced as we lived our childhoods with these various clouds has made each of us particularly fond of Pink Floyd's "The Wall," but I do not believe that my family is unique. Instead, I believe all of the concepts presented so eloquently in The Wall are experienced by most, if not all, human beings, to one degree or another.

I also thought it is important to be sure to conceptualize our family history from both a micro- and macro- perspective because while we experienced our lives as a family, our family was part of the culture in which we lived. For example, as my sisters and I spoke about my maternal grandfather - his behaviors and ideologies that magnified and perpetuated our shadows of betrayal, abandonment, and (emotional) abuse, I could not help but to remind myself that as he embarked upon his role as a husband and father, he had just returned from serving his country during WWII and I'm sure those experiences fueled his self-indulgent inability to remain a loyal husband. His betrayal of his wedding vows had an horrific impact on my grandmother who had already been abandoned during her childhood when her mother died in a tragic car accident. It is no wonder my grandmother was emotionally distraught (possibly suffering from bipolar disorder) and was emotionally unavailable or alternately, emotionally abusive toward her children. I repeated that story when my own husband had a relationship outside of our marriage; I became emotionally unstable and was alternately distant or harsh with my own children.

The lesson asks us to consider where the family shadow begins, but this seems an impossible task; I can go back only so far (to my grandparents, since I know almost nothing of my great-grandparents). I know for sure that the shadows were likely already in place for my maternal grandparents - who likely inherited their dramas from their own parents, who received it from their parents, and so on. While I am certain that the shadows may morph, darken, or recede with each generation, overall, families all must contend, to one degree or another, the clouds that are a seemingly natural part of the family climate.

We are also asked to consider how the family shadow(s) affected different family members and ponder over who was most hurt by it. I see how my maternal uncles were abandoned by their father and in turn, walked away from him as well. I see how my mom continued to walk a fine line between her mother and her father all throughout her life. I see how my grandmother lived a life in a state of post-trauma and continued emotional pain. I see how each of my sisters and I have learned to construct a wall so that we can each live in a very solitary way - and find comfort in our bubble.

I see how my own sense of abandonment and betrayal resulted in anger, violence, and abuse. I see the results of who I became in each of my now-grown children, and in them, I see the shadow morph, strengthen, and weaken, as each of my children confront the shadows in their own way.

My sisters and I will continue to embark upon this exploration of family shadows and family karma in an effort to better understand each other and even ourselves and to learn how to take what we need from this karmic lesson, for certainly there must be a reason we have all converged together, incarnating as a family since I do believe we choose the family we are born into for the lessons we will gain. This is, after all, soul work.

Pain and Suffering

Earlier this week, there was, in a nearby community, as horribly, tragic car collision. A car was hit - and hit hard - when another vehicle missed a stop sign at a four-way intersection on a rural road. The car he hit contained a young mom (29) and her three sons, ages 7, 4, and 18 months. The mom and the 18-month old son died instantly. The two older boys were taken to the hospital in critical condition. The following day, one of the older boys died; the next day, his brother died as well. This tragedy has left a husband/father to cope with the loss of his entire family, and I can't seem to stop thinking about this incident.

I think it has put grief and suffering into a different perspective for me. I realize grieve is subjective and can't be measured. We can't say, "My grief is greater than yours" because grief is so personal. Yet, to lose one's entire family, especially at that stage of life, must surely rank high if grief could be measured. How will this man process the loss of his wife (who was pregnant), AND the loss of Owen, AND the loss of Weston, AND the loss of Kaleb?? His entire life appears to have been obliterated!

I remember when Christina died. In those first few days following her death, I wondered how the world could still continue to go on, as if nothing happened. I had to go to the store for the usual household stuff: milk, toilet paper, bread. I felt like I was in a fog (and I was); I was at the store wondering how everything around me could just continue forward. I wanted the world to stop, even if just for a moment, to acknowledge that my daughter had died; but it did not. Life moved forward.

Today it was me who was part of the moving-forward-world, in spite of this man's tragic loss. Today it was me who continued with my life as if nothing tragic had happened; but then I would remember and it would bring me to a halt, even if just for a moment: a family died.

It seems pain and suffering is just part of the human condition. Nothing new about that; books have been written, songs have been composed, stories have been told - all about human suffering. Turn on the news and we see that it happens daily, everywhere, since the beginning of time. The only time we really, REALLY notice it is when it hits us directly or when it hits us near-by; otherwise, it is easier to simply dismiss it, minimize it as a fact or statistic, and silently shudder with relief that, at least this time, it wasn't us who was hit by tragedy.

And yes, along with my empathy and sympathy for this man and for his entire family, I also shuddered with relief knowing that in this moment, all of my loved ones are safe and sound.

Life is not fair.

A Mother's Pain...and Frustration

I know it is my fault. And his father's fault as well. I get that. I've accepted that and asked for forgiveness, but also know I will carry the guilt and pain for as long as I live. Still, days like today are difficult for me. I find myself thinking, "he's doing so well lately" and "it seems like he's conquered a lot of his mental health issues" and then, almost without warning, I do or say something that sets him off and he turns on me. And it hurts.

I try to set boundaries, but I guess I've never been good at that. I try to remind myself that he loves me, that son of mine; but there are times like tonight when it feels like he does not.

Parenting truly is the most difficult job ever. It is difficult because it is so routine; most of us are parents. Biologically, we are driven to reproduce. Yet, most of us are not qualified to take on the job of raising another human being. As a species, we know so much about what makes a quality parent, but we apply so little of that cumulative knowledge. In fact, we don't even ensure that what we know about good parenting is disseminated among all of us - especially those of us who need it the most. If I were younger, knowing what I know now, not only would I parent differently, but I would spend my life promoting healthy parenting. It would be my Life Mission. But now? Now it's just too late for me to do much of anything. Somehow, I've missed the damn boat.

So tonight, I am both hurt and frustrated. I wish it could be different. I carry so much fucking regret that it weighs me down. I can't undo the past. "It's done," "it is finished," and "it is what it is" - and all that crap. Yeah. Motherhood. It has evolved into endless pain and frustration so much of the time.