One of my favorite quotes comes from Ann Landers:

Expect trouble as an inevitable part of life; and when it comes hold your head high, look it squarely in the eye and say: I will be bigger than you. You cannot defeat me.

I've startd a new story. This, in itself isn't so unique. But Ithink this time it is unique. I don't have a specific purpose in mind for it but to follow the story as it develops. I can really feel the main character. As a matter of fact, I'm doing all I can to emerse myself in the character, to feel, experience, imagine as the character would. Of course, I've done this by basing the character on much of my personlity tratis. So much so that I think I may need a pen-name.

Now that I think about it, it's not so much that I'm trying to experience and feel as the character would, I'm simply writing the character as I feel. It's a different experience for me in the sense that I've started stories before based on what I was feeling at the time, but I'd eventually loose interest in where it was going. Not writer's block per se, just loss of interest. This time is different. It's so much of me and my experience of life. It's almost not fiction. But it totally is. I mean, if I told you the story line it would be obvious that it's fictitious.

But right...this time I think it's different, it's not just another new story.

I find that I don't know how to be a good friend. Almost makes me want to write off all friendships altogether. Almost. But that inner humanity within me cries out - desperately - for relationship. If only I'd stop screwing it all up.

Mom calls me stuborn. A friend calls me fierce. My husband calls me competitive. At least I have fight in me - enough to not completely let go of my relationships altogether. But I think at the same time, that same quality is damaging those very relationships. Pride.

I think I'm still grappling with step 1, specifically that my life has become unmanageable. I notice it doesn't say "uncontrollable." I detect a distinct difference there. But that's not what I wanted to talk about.

I wonder why I don't think I'm ready to move past this step. Is it possibly that I want to savor my newly-uncovered anger, resentment and frustration? Just like when I begin to get depressed I want to wallow in it, and in sort of a sick way, enjoy it a little more.

If I were to move on from this step, I'd have to process this anger and then I couldn't "keep it" any more, "enjoy it" any more.

Have something coming up tomorrow that I'm really nervous about - very potentially pride-damaging. Probably a good thing, but will hurt in the process. It's big. I don't know if I'm ready for this. But God is in control. He'll pull me through. He always is supporting me even when I don't see how I can possibly manage.

Grace.

Please, let this be worth something. Don't let me go through all of this with nothing to show for it. Instinctively I know better, but the desire to plead for hope is so strong in this moment.  

dungeon of victory

When we let hope become but an idea, distant and easily dismissed,

Despair awaits. This intruder without right, without petition

waits to drown, smother, suffocate all life from the soul, all fight from the heart.

He steals in where he does not belong, where he has no authority,

and fools the downtrodden deeper still into it's cave,

conniving and celebrating in it's dungeon of victory.

copywrite 2007 Megan Somers

Upon reflection, I think depression can replace despair in this piece as well. And may be even more fitting. I have to smile, because I'm on the "other side" now of despair - and that is hope, but often I cannot see the intruder for what it is until I've conquered it myself and am experiencing hope once again.

I am caught between the desire to go forward, to improve, to correct, rebuild, make better...and the desire to crawl away where it seems safe, familiar, comfortable. Up until now, I've dabbled, researched in a way, sought insight, answers, guidance, a change in perspective. And I've come to this place. This crossroads, if you will.

Behind me lie all the moments and memories that brought me to this place. Good and bad, regrets and rejoicing. Misunderstanding, hardened hearts, self-deception; good intentions, hopeful thoughts, steps stumbled upon, waxing and waning of determination...but on I go.

Reflecting on my beginnings, leery of the next steps, I find I'm temporarily paralyzed, unable to go back, unwilling to go forward, unsure and incapacitated by the fear of making the same old mistakes yet again.

Wanting and willing...not nearly the same. Wanting to break free of the habits, learned behaviors familiar and strong inside. Willing though...that's another force altogether. Wanting should perhaps be called wishing...upon a star, far off, unattainable, and therefore okay to wish on...but not expected to be fulfilled. But willing. Willing, yes. There is force and power and determination in that word, in that deed. It contains promise, and does not guarantee an easy ride.

As I learn more, uncovering long forgotten moments, it becomes clearer and clearer that the road behind me must remain so. Behind me. I cannot withdraw, cannot backtrack. And neither can I stand here at this intersection indefinitely. Indeed, I must be about my way as I've dragged all manner of baggage until I'm laden, sagging and in need of a place to rest...rest or unburden.

To the left is a road downhill, smooth...prepared to handle the weight of my burden. It will be easy for me to saunter through this intersection, down the slope and around the bend...but what lies beyond? And do I really care? It seems the most sensible thing to do, does it not? Why even ask!

But before I jump - for I do so enjoy knowing what my options are and delighting in a path well chosen - I must look at the paths both straight on and to the right.

To the right the path is nondescript and flat. Neither obviously easy nor obviously hard. Seems an all-right choice as well. May have to unload a bit of my bags, for I'm certainly getting a bit tired of their weight. But I'd be able to keep some of my more precious and firmly attached bags...for they are all wound well about me, attached in some manner or fashion. I'd not like to loose them accidentally after all!

Straight ahead lies but a footpath. Not well-worn, and rocky in some places, but not so daunting that I couldn't find my way around them. Brambles on either side would hinder me. I'd certainly not be able to carry many of my bags, if any at all. No, not any at all I'd wager.

Most onlookers are probably counting on the downhill choice. It would be the most sensible, after all. It's much like the places I've been in the past. Indeed, it would be familiar. And I'd not have to let go of any of my bags.

The hour is growing late. I must make a choice.

The flat road to the right is certainly not out of the question. For sure, I've tried ones similar on occasion. They've been an interesting distraction in the past, but usually ended up not being quite what I expected. Trying to please my desires for both mountain and ocean, but landing somewhere in the plains. Not exactly what I was hoping for. It would be much like the downhill option, but would seem like I was doing something more noble, something which requires more effort. Some, if few, would applaud this choice. 

Eyeing the footpath straight ahead, I almost do not consider it. It's unexpected. Unconventional. Inconceivable to some, for sure. But don't I claim to be just that, unexpected and unconventional? Inconceivable though, that would be a shock. Still though, I'm drawn to this footpath. I step across the road, and see a sign for the first time. Really less a sign, more a scratch in the post.

But the gate is small and the road is narrow that leads to true life*

True life - it stirs a hope within me. I am compelled. I reach for the strap of one of my bags without thinking. I begin to pull the strap over my head and leave it behind. And I stop, realizing what I'd been about to do.

What will I do. My darting eyes take in my options one last time: downhill, straight and flat, or this - a seldom-tread footpath with a promise of true life but which will require great sacrifice.

Indeed, what will I do.

*Matthew 7:14a (NAS)

I'm so angry!

The Boundaries book said anger doesnt' just heal with time - even 20 years later...you have to deal with the source before it will heal.

Now that I'm allowing myself to feel this, experience this anger, I'm finding that I'm angry at everyone! And when I look to where the cycle of alcohol and/or abuse began, I have to keep looking further and futher back generation to generation until I'm sure I'll be looking at Eve next. And then it hits me...

God gave Adam & Eve the ability to choose (and I'm not pointing fingers - Adam shirked responsibility & left the choice up to Eve, but whatever -) so of course there is pain and abuse in this world. We've been abusing our ability to choose for eons. Not taking the choices in this world seriously enough...not looking long enough or closely enough at consequences...

And by we, I mean me.

‘To put your trust in [the wise], rather than in a man of crooked mind. To cast aside regret and fear. To do the deed at hand.’ ~(Gandalf), The Two Towers, JRR Tolkien

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 I’m not playing the game anymore. But…

 It’s one thing to be like Gandalf – wise, always wise. Known for wisdom, relying on wisdom and imparting wisdom always.

 It’s quite another to want change…to have been a fool, playing games and playing into others’ games…wanting out. Seeking wisdom, seeking change, the way of the wise. Not known for integrity, how is this change to be taken? With suspicion. And resisted, so resisted it will be, not just because it’s change, because to trust it is questionable.

 So now I step into the unknown. Solitary and cold. Hope stirs within, but hope does not guarantee victory. Yet hope remains. It must. For to deny hope, the only other option is despair. And despair is not an option.

 1 Corinthians 13:13a So these three things continue forever: faith, hope, and love. (NAS)

The travel channel dedicates a whole night to Alaska. I have no choice but to watch. I am drawn in, enthralled, captured. Not unlike so many others whom I talk to. But for me it’s different. I’m studying, straining to see something, a clip, a moment, anything that may jog a memory.

I spent the first 8 ½ years of my life and one fantastic summer as a teen in Alaska’s south central region, namely Kenai Peninsula…and more specifically Seward. Seward, Alaska. To me, the mere sound of it still rings of “home.” Beginnings, roots, dreams; for I’d like nothing more than to return. Not to vacation, but to live. I’m not saying today or even next year, but maybe when I retire…or in twenty years. (I’ve got a lot longer than that until I retire!!)

Certainly, after 22 years here in south central New Hampshire, this is now home, but it doesn’t conjure up the same feeling of roots and dreams. Perhaps because Alaska is such a sought after place, glorified in travel journals and in the minds of almost anyone I’ve met. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a travel channel special on south central New Hampshire. Not that our fair state doesn’t have a lot to offer by way of nature…for I myself consider the rest of the state to be quite wonderful. The White Mountains, Lakes Region, Seacoast (all 13 miles of it!), way up north we go ATV’ing, out west near Keene is beautiful sightseeing and hiking…I could go on all day. South Central – not so much – it’s where we live, most of our population. The rest of the state is where we play.

But Alaska. I don’t think I’m alone here when I feel almost reverent just speaking about it. Is it the call of the wild? The draw of the last frontier? The romance of the hardship? The seduction of that which is just out of reach? The lure of the dream, that dream which may remain forever a dream and therefore never disappoint?

But back to the dream…I was thinking, if I were to live up there, what would I do to make a living? Could I be like one of the people on the show and be a bush pilot? Although I love to fly, I think I’d have a hard time in the pilot’s seat with a clear view of just how far down the ground is – what with my fear of heights! So no, no pilot’s license for me…but maybe I could be a photographer – like those other people on the show. Yes, I’d love to capture the beauty and rugged nature of this land.

And then it occurred to me…here I am looking for something I can do, out in the wilds of Alaska, and I’m thinking flying & photography?! Um, how about writing? Or do I believe in myself enough to do that? Am I so frightened of going out on a limb with my writing that I won’t even consider it, this gift God has already given me?

I’ve been so down on my writing lately because I haven’t really finished much. Correct me if I’m wrong (actually – don’t, not today!) but I’m pretty sure part of being paid for a writing project includes the conclusion of said writing!

So I decided to do something about it. I’m going out on a limb. (Are you holding your breath? Let it out – it’s not that big of a limb!) No, I’m not packing up and heading north. I’m taking a course. A short course. A short online course. It’s not even a course really, more of a class. A short online (& cheap) class. So as for going out on a limb, maybe not a limb, as much as at least getting into the tree.

I’m reminded of the Ents. In more ways than one! (The obvious tree reference…) (And for those of you not familiar with the Lord of the Rings series, Ents are tree-like creatures). They are quite long-winded when using their native language (this, a very long and round-about blog entry), and are slow to action. Emphasis most of all here on slow-to-action!

But it’s a start, and I’ve got a lot going on with counseling and al-anon and reading Boundaries, but through it all I’m learning it’s time I did something for me. To find and develop who I am, who God made me. To fill this person, slowly emptying of the bad, with something good and positive and lasting. For if I really want to help others like I say I do, the crud needs to be swept away and something good set in to replace it.

Learning new boundaries can be painful and confusing, but well worth the effort and commitment. A friend was explaining to me how her dogs had adjusted to their new boundaries via electric fence. At first she lead them up to the boundary line and let them feel the shock, then hurried them back to the house. Therefore, as they learned where the boundaries lie around their large yard, they always learned to return to the house when they were shocked.

She found that one of two things started happening once she was done showing them their new boundaries. First they would cross the line, then sit on the other side of the boundary, unwilling to shock themselves again in order to get back home. Second, they began simply sitting on the porch or very close to the house and not playing in the yard at all. Both situations were sad to watch, but the good news is that eventually the dogs have gotten more familiar with exactly where the boundaries are and they now play freely in the entire yard. Through time and commitment, my friend has ensured the they've learned well where the boundaries are and where it's safe to be.

Today I fill this one day with thoughts and actions I will have no need to regret.

July 4^th. Not just a day, not just a date. Independence day. My thoughts return to “Undone.”

Not to be redundant, but I am compelled to list the lyrics again as well as some of my reflections…

Now, a few months later, I’m reminded of this concept of “Undone.” I don’t pretend to have all the answers, not to have achieved the state of Undone, as it were, but I think I’ve made some progress.

I remember a few days before I first made this entry. I was driving in the car and thought to myself - am I ready for that? And in all honesty, I wasn’t. I was scared and I wasn’t ready. And I knew it.

But I have made progress, and it’s not been easy. I’ve also refused opportunities of growth in my own stubbornness, or fear I suppose. But progress I’ve made nonetheless.

Something was shared in the last Al-Anon meeting I attended, and I found a good bit of wisdom in it: We cannot change what we do not first understand.

Sometime last fall, I wrote about  one of my favorite verses, James 1:2-4

Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. (NIV)

I went on to write: "Not that I've had a tough life or anything, but we all face situations that seem somewhat impossible at the time. This verse encourages me forward into the abyss of whatever the challenge of the day is, complete with acknowledgement of the trial, fortitude to finish and a promise of provision!...I feel I have been challenged, led, to share now."

I can see, all these months later, how God had brought me back to my writing as one of the many gifts he's given me - for His glory, but also for my sake. As a therapeutic release, it's helped me through these last few challenging months. Just one more way he has provided for his child.

I take great pride in being humble.

I'm not really picky about stuff.

Until you tell me I can't have what I like.

I remember thinking “I’m a sham. I’m a complete sham.” I was angry, I was devastated, I was confused.

I was mourning.

I was a complete sham.

I have this love-hate relationship with pregnancy tests.

I don’t want to know. I’ve been through this so many times in four and a half years. And last month was the worst of them yet. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to know then, for I was convinced I knew. And I ended up being wrong. I mean, I was convinced. I knew. There was no doubt on earth.

But I was wrong.

And now, I just want to imagine that I know. And I am. And I’m right. I don’t want to know that I’m not. I can’t take the test.

That’s the other thing. I’ve never been truly surprised by the negative outcome of the tests (with the exception of last month). And I’ve taken so many! But nevertheless, I’m never truly surprised. Perhaps I don’t truly believe I’ll ever be. And even without taking the test, I know I’m not now, but I want to imagine…what if I am? What will my reaction be? How will I tell my husband? How will we tell the family? 

And there goes the cycle again. Of not wanting to know that I’m not  – so I can imagine that I am. Do I ever want the truth?

Or do I want to live in a dillusionary world?

Okay, a little background here...I react quite aggressively to caffeine. <insert hysterical giggles here> I fastidiously avoid caffeine, and have done so pretty regularly for the last few years.

The summer following my freshman year in college I worked third shift as a CNA (now I believe they are called LNA's) in a nursing home. I'd drink a whole 16oz coffee with hot cocoa mix (in lieu of sugar and milk) without even realizing it. All of a sudden, I'd look down and it would be gone! Empty. Done. I'd have about five of these each shift. I didn't sleep well that summer, and I thought it was because I was trying to sleep during the day. While that may have been a part of it, I'm thinking the caffeine had a little something to contribute to it too!

So anyway, I digress... I've established that I have a strong reaction to caffeine...Got coffee today on lunch...I know I ordered a decaf, as I normally do...but I'm thinking I didn't get what I ordered! Yes, most definitely did NOT get decaf! I won't say where I got it, because I don't want to give them a bad name - they are still the best! Or, as we say here in New England - "Wicked Awesome." (we somehow think *wicked* is a good thing)

I remember a few years ago, I was self-employed and had a huge business goal. Was meeting with a mentor of mine at a local coffee shop and was feeling particularly sluggish that day, so I decided to throw caution to the wind and order a regular. I think my exact words toward the end of our meeting was - you know, as enormous as this goal is, I think if I have a couple of these [coffee drinks] everyday, I can definitely do this!

It's funny. Maybe not haha, but funny nonetheless...I don't even usually have caffeine in the morning because it will still keep me awake that night. Yeah, that wasn't funny at all, was it.

But boy, is my stream-of-consciousness pretty wacky right now!

Does anyone else have a hard time spelling "lieu?" That's just one of those words which I consistently get wrong, like "queue." And when I try to spell them, I'm not even consistent in being wrong. I try all kinds of different configurations of vowels and rarely get close to the correct spelling.

Anyway - I should stop now before I get completely irrelevant!

I guess my point is: see what caffeine does to me? Isn't it a riot? 

I've been going to Al-Anon, a group designed for family members and friends effected by alcohol. It follows a 12-step program almost exactly the same as AA. The first step is: We admitted we were powerless over alcohol—that our lives had become unmanageable.

At first glance, it seems pretty straightforward. And completely correct. I AM powerless over it! Much as I've tried to control and help and influence the alcoholics in my life, nothing helps. And yes, my life has become unmanageable. Completely out of control at times.

But as I look deeper, and attend more meetings, I'm finding that I'm having a hard time with this whole concept. The ramifications of this step means that even me going to al-anon is powerless over the drinking. But that's why I'm going, if I'm  completely honest with myself. I'm going so I can figure out what I'm doing wrong, correct it, and like this is some sort of magic formula, the alcoholic will <poof> get into a program and stop drinking, we can work out the kinks of our relationship, and we can get on with our lives.

If I'm willing to be completely honest with myself, that is.

It makes me so mad! I want control. I crave sanity!

I prayed two months ago for clear, practical direction. Within minutes, an older, wiser friend took me under her wing and showed me what to do, where to seek counsel, and offered a few clear ways to cope.

Now, (since I asked for it) am I ready to take this seriously, to look inside MYSELF, willing to see the crud and DO something about it, or am I still focused on the alcoholic?

I'm all too willing to see the flaws in the alcoholic, not so eager to see my own flaws. Not that I have such great self-esteem, but when you get into the nitty gritty of it, it's not pretty! I want to say - "but the alcoholic made me this way!!! It's not my fault! I'm just trying to be a good person, helpful and loving." 

Did I trully have a choice? Isn't it telling that so many times the pattern of co-dependency exists? Don't these roles simply HAPPEN, without conscious choice in the matter? But the fact that it's a family disease is also just as telling. The cycle began far longer ago than I realized. And yes, I did have a choice. Any cycle can be broken - with tremendous effort, but it CAN be broken.

So, today I focus on me. Get used to accepting the fact that I have no control. Easily said. But to believe it. How long will it take for me to believe that there is no hope for control? That even in this, there is no control. Not over outside forces anyway. Yes, I can exert self-control, but everything else I want to control is off-limits, no matter how hard I try to beat the system!

So again, today I focus on me. I focus on Self-Control and gaining the "serenity to accept the things I cannot change."

Today I begin telling myself that everything else is beyond me, it's out of my hands. And encourage myself to see how freeing that is...what a burden I've been carrying! And hopefully someday soon I will really believe it deep inside and be ready to embrace it!

Oftentimes, stress manifests in our muscular system in one area  or another throughout our bodies. For some it's shoulders and neck, others it is in different areas of the back. I've recently discovered that my main area is in my upper abs.

Okay, so why is this so significant?

I've also discovered that many of those activities which I used to think of as therapeutic and stress-relieving actually make me clench my abs more! It reminds me of how many times smokers say that the simple act of smoking relieves their stress, when in actuality it places more stress on their bodies.

It's intriguing to me how each person has a different stress reaction, and it's consistent in each one of us. Yes, we are creatures of habit to a certain extent, but how does it develop? Why the neck/shoulders in one person and headaches in another?

One of those many life issues to ponder, I suppose.

Okay, in three minutes or less, what is going on in that head of mine?

So I'm an enabler. Now how do I change that?

Assertiveness? Can you define that please? (if that's all right, I mean, I don't want to put you out...when you get the chance)

...the serenity to accept the things I cannot change...how profound. And incredibly relevant to all things in everyday life!

Discipline. Oi. Diet? No. Exercise? (cringe) No. Writing? Somewhat. Prayer? Somewhat less than somewhat.

Not only am I an enabler, I'm also an "Avoidant" which is more complicated than it first appears to be, but you get the gist...Now how do I change that?

Okay, would someone please help me organize all of this? Oh...and hold this while I...

Something to strive for...

This didn't start out to be poetry. I began thinking about the concept of unaccounted loss and wanted to write - in order to think clearly. But all of my thoughts were simply snapshots, ideas, and it became what it is...

The whole idea of unaccounted loss...maybe that makes as little sense to you as it did to me at first, so I am inclined to explain it's origins. This rose first from a personal recent experience. One where the loss isn't immediately apparent to those unaware, it isn't easily recognizable and could even be questioned as real or imagined ....unaccounted for.

Then, my thoughts turned of their own accord to another, even less tangible loss...of a time, specific experience, shared life...and what it may have been, what it represented.  I was shocked at how appropriate those thoughts were in relation to the current loss. And how easily it weaved into this piece...

By way of warning: a small part of this piece is potentially - slightly shocking, if you're not expecting it...you are now forewarned!

unaccounted loss

hope imagined, torn away

release, involuntary

question without hope of answer

miscarriage or menstruation? 

remembering the lost years

years imagined, in community

years lived instead, elsewhere

insufficiency or inevitable?

question without hope of answer

answers never forthcoming

loss which changes life's path

consequence or circumstance?

mourn alone,

mourn this personal loss

loss of what?

hope? dreams?

an unknown future? an unlived past?

unable to share this ambiguous loss

leaves question without hope of answer

copywrite 2007 Megan Somers

It’s cruel. Truly.

No, I’m not talking about life, I’m talking about a certain type of diet. It’s not calorie-counting or high-protein/low-carb, it’s the Candida diet. Any candida diet. And there are lots of them out there, all with small twists, but all equally cruel.

There I was, going about my life, feeling great, including the diet, and poof – I go on vacation, and suddenly I’m eating at restaurants much of the time and have little control over my choices. Suddenly I’m feeling deprived. I’m not satisfied any longer with the image of killing off this candida presence in my body; I feel only petulant and pouty that even with an extensive menu, I have few choices and those are of things I don’t even like, or have to tweak even still from what’s on the menu!!!

Just let me vent a little more here…

Then, I want more. It’s not enough that sometimes I have no choice but to slip, then I don’t feel like staying on the diet at all because I’ve been given a taste of the forbidden. Then it snowballs and grows inside of me until I find myself devouring everything I shouldn’t. And you know what?

I feel like crap again.

Why don’t I feel like going back on the diet? Why don’t I remember how great I felt all the time? Why don’t I picture the things I could eat with anticipation instead of ice cream and chocolate pastries and breaded chicken and…

And I feel worse just thinking about it.

Maybe that’s a good sign that I’m ready to go back on the diet…popcorn, pears, cherries, carrot sticks (they are surprisingly sweet, you know!) and steak, marinara sauce, sweet potato meatloaf, and my new favorite: sweet potato fries! (Thanks Brett, Ginny and Paul!)

Okay. Am I ready for this? No more cruel jokes? Regaining some semblance of control over meals?

Well, we can always try!