Slice or Dice?

When a long term relationship ended, and I didn’t cry or mope about the house, I was accused of being “cold” and “heartless”. I thought about this for awhile before responding. I knew I wasn’t heartless, but was I cold? I had no desire to cry, and I wasn’t angry. What did I feel?
The relationship, although lasting many, many years had been abusive and I was relieved it was finally over. Unless you have been in an abusive relationship it is difficult to understand how or why anyone would stay in such a situation. Even when I was in the midst of the emotional and mental turmoil I made so many excuses for his behavior to others that I believed them myself. I had convinced myself that it wasn’t so bad and those other women who were physically beaten suffered the “real” abuse.
Walking on eggshells, never knowing when, or what was going to cause him to explode in fits of rage was a daily experience. Being told over and over that I was sickening to look at, a week and pathetic excuse for a woman took its toll on my spirit. I didn’t only believe the lies I told myself, but the lies he viciously spewed as well.
Now that it was over; what did I feel? I didn’t only feel relieved, I felt sad, and then I felt sorry. I didn’t feel sad for lost or wasted years… I felt sad for the life I had always thought I could create and knew I never would. In my mind amidst the pain I had created a happy ending to the abuse that was about staying and enduring; Being the martyr that prevailed over the darkness (that is sad in and of itself). Then I felt sorry, not for me but for him. Not in a pathetic way, but genuinely sorry.
It was my fault; yes you read that right. It was my fault; I lead him to believe I was someone I wasn’t. No matter how the relationship began or ended, I had wanted to be the perfect one; so I became the person I thought he wanted me to be. My friends fell away not because they didn’t like him and the way he treated me, but because they didn’t know this person I had become. My own children didn’t know the real me. I did things that were so far out of my God-self that even I did not recognize me anymore. If only I had remained true to myself I would have saved so many people and myself such terrible grief. For this I was truly sorry.
So at the end of the relationship when I finally allowed my true spirit to shine and he wanted to know how I could be so cold when the family was being torn apart… I explained that some people are like an egg in a food chopper, their emotions are scattered all over for everyone to see; and then there are the people who are more like an egg in an egg slicer, they look whole and put together, but they are in as many pieces.
So why was I in his words "cold"? Well,it wasn't that I lacked feelings or that I was hiding my emotions; I was trying to sort them out. I wasn’t cold, I was pain too. So try not to be judgmental of others or yourself. We all deal with grief in our own way: some people cry, scream, get angry, become afraid, or even contemplative. There are as many ways to deal with grief or loss as there are people.
I also apologized to him and took full responsibility for what I had done by allowing him to think I was someone I was not. These days I leave all my acting for the stage. To live is to be true to your spirit, your God-self.
 In the words of my friend… “In the moments of living, wisdom unfolds.” ~Carla Christina Contreras
TaTa Dear One. Namaste

What will you be remember for?

“When it's time for your transition out of this earthly world, what will you be remembered for?” A friend of mine posted this question on Face Book this morning and it brought a smile to my face, as a memory warmed my heart. So get your favorite beverage and cozy up to your computer, it’s story time: As a young adult in my twenties I never gave much thought to this topic. After all it is a well known fact amongst the younger set that we are going to live forever.
I was married and had 4 beautiful children ages 6months,17months,9 and 10years old. we lived in a log cabin in the woods and had a dog named Bo. Life was good!! One afternoon I received a phone call informing me that a dear friend of mine had just died. Needless to say it hit me hard; she was my age with a wonderful husband and had two darling little boys. How could this happen and why? I looked at my family and was so grateful for them… but after a few weeks of sadness… life went on as usual.
As my life was getting back to its normal chaos, my arm had swollen so I went to the doctor. They did an ex-ray and ran some tests. About a week later they called me; it’s funny how one moment can change the course of you entire life! I was told that I had Lupus. It was the same disease that had killed my dear friend just a few months before. I was in shock. I couldn’t cry, eat, or sleep, I couldn’t function at all, the only thing I could do or wanted to do was watch my children. And I did; every moment… I watched them play, eat, and sleep. For two entire weeks I would sit in their room all night and watch their quiet little bodies gently rise and fall with each precious breath. I took notice of every detail of their angelic sleeping faces. 

At the end of the second week my husband stepped in and called the doctor. I was killing myself, before the Lupus could. The doctor prescribed some sleeping pills and my husband made sure I took them. I didn’t think I could ever sleep again, but I slept for almost 3 days. I don’t recall dreaming, but when I awoke, my life was completely different. I had a feeling of peace and contentment; there was a clarity about my life, and an acceptance about death.

Prior to this I had been a neat freak (think female Felix Unger), there were neither dust-bunnies, nor kitchen-corner-crumbs in my house, the children and my husband’s clothes were always impeccably cleaned and pressed. I ironed the sheets, pillowcases, and even the cloth napinkin's (that were washed daily). I never said “No” to anyone when asked for a favor, I clipped coupons and shopped for groceries at three different stores to save the most money. I was as perfect as any woman could be.
The question came to mind, “If I die today what will my children remember about me?” Perhaps something like; “We always had clean clothes.” Or “The house was always so neat and tidy.” I realized they probably wouldn’t be able to say anything about who I was… they didn’t know me! I had spent so much time trying to be perfect that I never took the time to just be me. Now I could see everything so clearly: This was a wondrous awakening, I didn’t need to be perfect to be perfect!
So, I set the bunnies free to roam about the house, and had a food fight across the dinner table with my children. I'll let the clothes have the wrinkles, and I’ll charish the laugh lines. I don’t have to do everything for everyone; letting them find their strength is a gift. And saving a few dollars won’t buy me more time.

Although what you think of me is none of my business, I just hope I leave this earth a little happier and with a little more light and love than when I arrived.

So, “When it's time for your transition out of this earthly world, what will you be remembered for?”

"Good Enough"... just what is it?

Today I had to help a child who had been told by the adults in her life that she wasn't "good enough" and "Just who do you think you are?" She has heard it so often that people don't even have to say a word...she can see it in their actions, tone of voice or in the rolling of their eyes.

Tonight she KNOWS the only truth is her truth, and she is so much better than "good enough" and that who she knows herself to be...is all that matters! (When somesome asks..."Who do you think you are?" What they are really asking is: “Who do I think I am?” As Wayne Dyer said, "When you judge another, you do not define them, you define yourself."

If you have ever rolled your eyes, or been anything other than accepting with your words and actions toward someone who has expressed a desire or a dream, (and most everyone has); This adult could just as well have been YOU. It is important that we do a "self check" and just be aware that how we respond to others can and often does have an affect beyond that moment.

 *ireneism: Insecurity breeds doubt not only in ones-self but in others.

Be happy, be kind, and be secure in the knowledge that you are an expression of God. Namaste

Finding My Voice

When I was a child, I felt invisible. Everyone seemed to talk over me as if I had said nothing. For many years I thought that others found what I had to say as not worth acknowledging. When I was a pre-teen, someone commented on what a soft sweet voice I had and that is when I realized it was not what I was saying but how. So I worked at being heard and speaking up. This presented a whole new problem; I didn’t like my own voice. It grated on me. My mother was always whacking me in the back of the head and telling me to stop talking through my nose. Well, okay, but how in the world do you do that?

I joined the church teen-choir. We traveled the east coast during the summer months performing at other churches and a few community centers. It was fun off stage, but when we got in front of an audience I wouldn’t sing out, often I would just mouth the words because I didn’t want anyone to hear me above the others.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror late at night, I talked out loud to myself. To make it interesting, I would make my monologues into television commercials, trying on different vocal personas hoping to find the one that fit me. I would try them on for size with my family and friends. They would laugh at me and say how funny I was. At first I didn’t like the laughter, but then it was sort of kool. (I know kool is spelled with a “c” but I think “k” is way under rated and swap it out when ever I can.) Laughter was way better than criticism. Somewhere along the line I forgot to try, and just started being comfortable with me. I was able to laugh at my self too.

I had been in the theatre department since about 1992-2010 (with a hiatus of about 10 years). During finals of my first semester I suffered from PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) and became unable to speak. When I tried I stuttered so badly that I would run out of breath before I could get out two words. But I didn’t want to stop going to school, I loved it so. But I was unable to drive, and would become lost if I walked out my own front door; so I was walked to classes’ everyday then taken home to work alone. Then I took Voice and Diction, with Dr. Hillman. It was a difficult task, but I was determined to be able to tell my children that I loved them. It took an entire semester before I could speak well, and a year before I had fluent speech. I resumed theatre classes (as well as many others) and registered for a few acting type classes, but mainly stayed behind the scenes (long story). I had several teachers who would tell me that I was good, and I believed them. However it only takes one brick to break a window. One professor told me that I would never make it as an actor because of my voice. I respected this person and thought, “She must be right”. I became very self-conscious, went back to the behind the scenes classes and shortly thereafter withdrew from school completely. Of course now, after many years of self-reflection, I think, “what a shame it was that I handed over that much power to someone else”. Obviously if I was going to put that much stock in one person’s opinion when I had many others to the contrary, my childhood story was still holding on to me.

I have learned a lot about myself since leaving school. My best teachers were the children I worked with in my home as a special needs childcare provider. Many of them had verbal difficulties for various reasons, but through research on my part and determination on their parts, most all of them now have a voice, some verbal and some signing.

I still tell people all the time that I “can’t carry a tune in bucket”. However, I have recently started voice lessons, and was told that I have a very large range and that I am on pitch. So I guess I should just get over myself, and let the “old story” go.

P.S. I Did finally get the courage to audition for a play at MTSU and I was cast. The director told me that they cast me because of my great voice quality. Who Knew?

The Declaration of Independence and Happiness

The Declaration of Independence proclaims the pursuit of happiness to be an inalienable human right. But Thomas Jefferson might be surprised at today’s mounting crowds of seekers. A host of social science researchers and allied practitioners are developing a “science of happiness.” Among other projects, researchers are compiling happiness “indexes” and comparative happiness scores for countries and individuals. The new study of happiness, or subjective well being, is a growing interdisciplinary field; college courses are offered that explore the why and wherefore of human flourishing—complete with homework assignments and happiness exercises. I myself have taken the Philosophy of Happiness course at Middle Tennessee State University. Any monopoly that religion or political philosophy once held as the favored guides to Eden is over.

Aristotle summed this up best when he said, "Happiness is the meaning and the purpose of life, the whole aim and end of human experience." With the exception of survival, happiness is the goal behind every human activity.* Reflection on the definition of happiness suggests that it is a personal experience, therefore also a personal responsibility. How and if one chooses to accept this responsibility is as individual as a breath.

I too spent many years waiting for my happiness to come to me, or for someone else to make me happy. Thankfully these days my personal journey for happiness never reaches beyond the bounds that are me.

Storytelling

I could tell you my life story and probably will before all is said and done. After all that is what we humans like to do most is sharing our stories. It's not a fault, mind you, it is what it is. People tell stories for many reasons... some tell their stories as an instructional "how to" or "how NOT to". Others engage in storytelling as a means of validation of self or self worth. Many people as they get older tell their story as a way to just stay engaged in life. I have been privy to many who just like to hear themselves talk and some who use words to heal themselves and others. We created language so that we could share our stories.