Sunday, May 27, 2012


I have been signed up for Twitter for years now, but have never used it. I am going to use it now, but I do not know how! If anyone has pointers or could give me suggestions, then that would be neat. I am not sure how integrated I want my life to be (blog connected to Twitter connected to email . . . connected to my location at all times on Earth, let alone my entire web presence--accounts, porn searches, ex-files). I just thought it would be fun to submit my opinion on all the news shows that I now watch with Bill; and now that I have a fancypants phone, I thought it would be fun to use it.

On the Right Path

This is going to be a personal post, but I think it needs to be such in order to explain what I'm trying to say. I mean, I'm sure I could make it more creative or metaphorical, but I will save that rendition for later, I think!

Thanks to a recommendation, I've been reading the daily meditations in the Language of Letting Go ; the author, Melody Beattie, had an appropriate image the other day while trying to explain the timing of situations. She said that sometimes situations feel like a window that has been painted shut and if we put some force into it, the window can open up and we can step through.

A painful window that I've been aware of, have looked out of, have described and told of its view to friends, but have hidden my partner feeling so ashamed of having such a window . . . that window was identified and I went through it yesterday in front of Bill.

I am not one to use my literal voice when the issue is so personal, but I stepped through yesterday because I felt the time was right and I am learning to trust my instincts and myself. And I am learning that the truth of myself is what brings others to me, and vice versa.

I had to face some of my deepest fears--being an outsider, being abandoned--and explain them to someone else, even though I know they reside in me and are my own. On one hand I see a list of rationality and explanations, and on the other hand I see my feelings that exist despite reason. It is not easy to speak an emotion (unless it's tinged with self-deprecation and/or humor).

But I learned that my low self-esteem was coloring all of my experiences has manifested in my life as depression, addiction, restlessness, etc. This realization has given me access to a part of myself that I didn't have access to before; maybe because it's not something that I felt like I needed to change. It just came to me as an understanding, as if I were seeing my actual self.

I went to the library yesterday convinced that I did not want another book on how to discover what I want and to manifest my life dreams. I already feel confident about what I want. (I wanted to start reading more of Anne Lamott's fiction.) But I couldn't resist searching the catalog for self-esteem (subject) just to see if there was something that could explain what I was feeling.

I think I found such a book, and it has explained a lot to me. So this recommendation, which is the main point of this post, goes out to anyone who has enjoyed a Melody Beattie book and who has ever talked to me about codependence. [Don't make me name names!] this book is for you: Healing Rage: Women Making Inner Peace Possible, by Ruth King.

I'm telling you, this is the best book I've read on inner work, self-esteem, self-hood in a long time. The fact that it's combined with my experience of reading Language of Letting Go makes it a more powerful experience for me right now.

King's premise is that we all have an inner child of rage that manifest in childhood from experiencing traumas. (I'm not going to describe those traumas, but she does a nice job of describing various situations we mostly likely experienced as a child and did not have the ability to reconcile while we were that age.) King then goes on to describe six "disguises" this rage takes in order to shield ourselves from the rage (and her sister, shame): Defiance, Dependence, Depression, Devotion, Distraction, and Dominance.

I found my type (dependence) and sure as shit, the profile fits. It makes sense why codependence books resonate for me, even though the alcoholic aspect of codependence doesn't ring true to me. The import behind yesterday's conversation makes sense, too.

I feel like I am finally on the beginning of something larger than myself; I can't really describe this feeling, but I want everyone to have it. So I am super-serious about reading Healing Rage--read it! And then let's talk about it a lot!

Memorial Day

I just wanted to take a moment to recognize that it's Memorial Day weekend. I am watching vets come back from Iraq and Afghanistan and they are all levels of messed up; and they thought they were doing something good for their country. I am watching the effects of WWII on my grandfather and piecing together (albeit mostly through imagination) the legacy of that war on one family. I recently read Toni Morrison's, Home, which follows a vet of the Korean war. All of these things are haunting and frightening. I never felt a post-911 patriotism, but I feel more connected to veterans as I grow older. I feel bad that the country used them and deceived them; I feel bad that I cannot share this perspective and have an open conversation. But I feel like you just need to ask anyone who knows, and it may be the cashier at Wal-Mart, who offers the information in casual conversation, and you see the detrimental effects of combat. And I believe it is only going to get worse and it's going to take great care to help those dealing with the aftermath of war.

Monday, May 21, 2012

Society's fucked, but I'm still in love

I'm very near hashing out my life philosophy, which I plan to cling to until the day I die. It goes something like this: who gives a fuck if your child drinks your breast milk until ze wants to wean? It's poisoned anyway.

That doesn't really encapsulate my entire life philosophy . . . I'm just a little cranky right now about breast feeding. As in, I don't care about it. Basically my entire life philosophy is "Who gives a fuck if [x]? [X] is poisoned anyway." Regarding that poisoning, I no longer feel compelled to save it or to act happy in spite of it. I think it's very serious.

I am reading Rachel Carson's Silent Spring because I've never read it before. Her second chapter is called, "The Obligation to Endure."

"Isn't that a wonderful title?" I ask Bill over dinner (factory farmed, to be nearly sure, chicken with manufactured fajita seasoning, pesticide-riddled green pepper and onion, fat-laden tortillas, and organic blue corn chips and guacamole, fresh from a number seven plastic container).

"Yes, but it is nothing compared to my chapter two title, 'Orthopedics and You.'"

I laugh. He continues, "It just doesn't have the same impact."

"Impact! Ha!" I smile at him.

"And do not forget my next chapter, 'Yes, I Ate the Whole Thing.'"

Yes, I Ate the Whole Thing is my favorite chapter. The whole thing.

Sunday, May 13, 2012

Music Observation

This may be something or it may be nothing--this diagram I found on the back of a post-it note of musician recommendations. Imagine two columns. The first column: Body, Happy, Rock and Roll. The second column: Mind, Depressed, Metal. Just sayin'. (Also, just sayin' that it makes more sense than other things I've scribbled down and found later.) Also, just saying that this week it struck me again--again!--how music saves my life. Just when I get so wound up, I find help, an outlet. Something expressive that saves through the gut.