And back here in Wonderland...

I have gone round and round, much like the proverbial hamster on a wheel, on how to make things "Right" here. And, folks, let me tell you that it ain't easy.

In order to box a liar into a lie, you have to do some lying and manipulating of your own. In other words, you have to fall on your own sword. I have thought my way around this from every angle I can think, and that is the long and short of it.

Nietzsche was correct when he said, "When you look long into the abyss, the abyss looks into you." The longer I look into the darkness, the more consumed I become. Each time I think of a way that I can prove I am right about this whole thing I realize that I have crossed over onto The Dark Side to get there.

I am fairly certain that a person doesn't lose his honor, his integrity, his moral code in one fell swoop. A person gives it away in tiny, bite-size pieces. I am sure now that a person says to himself, "I can do just this one thing and it will be okay. Even though it is wrong, I am doing it for the right reason." But the next time, that same person has a choice to make about right and wrong, that wrong choice became a lot easier. And maybe it didn't even need justifying. Or it did. But by the fifth time it rolled around, it happened without a thought. The choices don't even have to be BIG. Just small things. And in those things you can lose yourself completely.

I can't make this right for my mom by falling on my sword. As much as I would love to hack his computer and print out everything that ever came through his hard drive (if I had the capability), I am not going to do that. Even though my gut says that we still have trouble in River City I am also not going to transfer my stress to my mom. I am afraid I might push her straight into cardiac arrest. All that is left to me is sitting back and waiting. I did learn one thing from liars and cheaters. They remain liars and cheaters. I don't have to DO anything. Time will take care of this for me. Liars and cheaters always fall on their own sword.

We're Here Again???

Forgiveness is one of those things you think that you have a handle on, and then *bam* you realize you don't. Not.At.All. Once again, you are floundering around like a two year old in a kiddie pool.

The irony is that I do get it. You have to do it or it will eat you up inside. Not forgiving doesn't hurt anyone but you. Letting something go is best for YOU. I understand all of the logical points of the thing.

I have been on the receiving side of this particular punching bag on several occasions to know that several things can stand in your way.

• Being subjected to the same crap over and over makes it impossible to let it go because it keeps coming round again. As soon as you think you've let the last thing go, a variation on a theme comes along to smack you in the face. Metaphorically, that is.
• Forgiving, but sticking it out with the person who did it in the person in the first place, creates all manner of problems. You still have lack of trust, lack of respect, and a loss of love that I personally don't believe ever can be replaced.
• These have been replaced with paranoia, a deep-seated belief that the person will do it again, and an even deeper seated belief that they are just not a very good person.
• Flying in the face of that is your little voice that says everyone makes mistakes and deserves second chances.
  
• However, anything you see, anything that smacks of anything, that speaks to lack of contrition for what they did to wreak damage on your household, you are back to Square One. All of the progress in Letting It Go, etc. is over. Suddenly, it all feels like a lie. Again.

If you are wondering why I don't just leave, it is because this was only indirectly done to me. I don't get to make the choice to leave. I have to come to terms with this because I live here. But this was done to my mother. And only she can make the choice to leave. It all reminds me of this. Kinda.

The difference is that there was a lifetime of abuse in that situation. And I didn't feel guilty after. I didn't feel like I needed forgiveness for what I did. I just called it as I saw it. Granted, it created a rift that was never sealed over. But I was okay with it. He was not a good person and I didn't need to be close to him. I did what I felt was right and I never looked back.

This is a constant, daily migraine enhancer.

Our Work is always to figure out our job. In the past, the only way I could beat these situations was to completely walk away. That is not an option this time. My other choice is to truly believe that he is penitent about what he has done. That is the road that my mother is taking. There are a few other things that he could do that would make me feel more confident about traveling that road. I was confident yesterday and then I wasn't. And that tells you that I am still on shaky ground on that road.

My mother says that I could practice see no evil and hear no evil a bit better, so that I would feel better. In other words, deliberately shut myself off from potentially overhearing ANYTHING, and certainly don't go looking for anything incriminating. In other words, barricade myself even more thoroughly into my study and bedroom.

My problem is that I know myself. If you say that you are sorry, then I expect you to truly be sorry, and your actions to reflect that. If you aren't sorry, then I don't want you to say it. I don't like lip service. I have heard a lot of lip service in my time. I am also familiar with internet cheaters. (Hello Flash!) And I just don't know that I can stop myself from snooping if he gives me enough cause. My mother would never do it. But I am not my mother. There are certain people that you go to the mat for, whether they ask or not, even if they know that they need it or not, and my mother will always be one of them. Until the day comes that I am cold and dead, she is one of those people for me.

In the meantime, this whole thing is giving me one heck of a migraine.

I hope that it goes without saying that I hope it doesn't come down to any of that. I hope he straightens up and flies right. I hope I stop getting these vibes. I really need to work on my forgiveness before my migraines rip my head right off my shoulders. Stress is a killer.

Circles.

Alas, I am not dead. Hence the post. I have not been feeling particularly well. Hence the lack of posts.

My aunt's death has put Death back on the front burner. I don't know if you have noticed all of the recent celebrity deaths, but Death is definitely not on a holiday. And then there have been all of the natural disasters ripping up the Midwest claiming lives and it all has been making me think about Death. Yeah, it has been a bundle of laughs here.

I don't write when I get all depressed and morose. Honestly, I think it is unattractive. And I think my perspective gets all messed up. So, my tendency is to ride it out until it makes any kind of sense to me.

Had I posted a couple of weeks ago, you would have gotten something like "even my dog doesn't love me anymore." And that is true. But, I hadn't reasoned out the whys and wherefores and it just sounds pitiful. I know I would have rolled my eyes reading something like that. So, I couldn't write it. Instead, I had to figure it out.

I think it all came together for me yesterday. Let me walk you through it.

On the way to my vestibular rehab appt. we were driving through downtown, and my mom pointed out to me a cluster of homeless people that always hang out in front of the Goodwill Store near the bridge. Different people. Both sides of the road. The location is approximate. We wondered if they slept under the bridge. It looked like rain. The bridge seemed like a good spot to get out of the rain. It occurred to me that these were likely some of the people very much in need of my Big Idea. I wondered how many, if any, were sick and homeless. They all looked defeated. I knew how they felt and I had a place to live. I honestly couldn't imagine trying to survive without an address.

When we moved back to GA, my parents set up a gate keeping the dogs out of the bedrooms. My study and bedroom are both behind the gated area. My parents have taken over the feeding of the dogs. About the only time I come out is to eat dinner. My dog, Shelby, used to sleep with me. She followed me around like the Pied Piper. Now she follows my mom around like the Pied Piper unless my stepdad is dealing with food (because he bribes them). My mom says it is just a proximity issue and I need to spend more time with her. True. I am figuring out ways around that.

As I was lying in bed last night, I couldn't help but think of funerals and then those homeless people and then myself. Circles. Circles. Circles. And the line from The Beatles song The End. "And in the end the love you take is equal to the love you make." Well, I have to be perfectly honest. It started out as a pity party. I felt very sorry for myself and all of the people I had lost who were already on The Other Side. And then I felt very sorry for myself that my world of real friends and loved ones just kept getting smaller. Yes, I was thinking about my funeral and how few attendees there would be. And the kicker: most of them would be there to support my mother. Yes, I was really feeling sorry for myself. The pity party was in full swing.

And that was when Revelation struck. That is what Illness does. It shrinks your world. It weakens your battery so that it is always running on LOW and you only have very little to give. It requires that you focus all of your energy on getting well, staying alive, trying to get better, and giving what kindness you have to the care provider who is helping you (if you have any sense at all). It doesn't give you much to work with in terms of giving. It isolates. And it makes you feel horribly alone. And unloved. It is excellent for that. One of the worst things disease does is makes a person feel unloved. Of course, it is a product of the wheel turning round and round. The person does it to themselves because they only have so much to give and they just stop reaching out. They don't have it in them anymore. And one day they are alone. Homeless. Standing under a bridge or in front of a Goodwill Store.

Whenever I have these Horrible, Down In The Gutter, Somebody Please Shoot Me Already periods, I know it is for a reason. I need to see a bigger picture. If I am going to build houses for sick, homeless people, I need to know what they are feeling. I need to know what they are going through. Yeah, they are sick. They have been undiagnosed. They are frustrated. Most importantly.... I need to know their hopelessness. Today I needed to know that they feel Unloved. They used to have a life. However, their battery kept getting lower and lower, so they did what they had to do. They stayed alive. But they lost everyone. And one day they woke up alone. And now they are looking back and wondering, "How in the world did that happen? I used to have friends. Family. But I bet no one will even come to my funeral. I have become someone that no one cares about. I am just another homeless person."

Healing a person is more than just about figuring out what went wrong with a medical diagnosis. Yes, it is imperative to heal their body. But, that is no good if there is no understanding of how they are feeling. My goal is to give them their life back... just as good or better than it was.

So... another part of this journey is getting MY life back. Figuring out how to do it. It is obviously another part of the program. You aren't well until you get your life back. And incorporating those steps has to be a part of your recovery as you are ready to make them. As your battery gains life, that has to be part of your "program." It will feel strange. Some people will be out of the social loop for a few years. Some for many years. It will simply depend on how long they have been sick. I imagine the longer they have been sick and their battery has been "low," the more difficult it will be. Interestingly enough, perhaps the better it will feel.


image found on facebook.com