DEALING WITH MADNESS PERHAPS IT IS A CHOICE

" No excellent soul is exempt from a mixture of madness."
~Aristotle

 

Wow, am I glad to hear that.  To have it affirmed.  To know that I am not alone. I have felt at the verge of tears all day, feeling not so strong at all. I dragged myself out of bed, thinking I would feel better, but that didn't seem to work.  Then I ate three chocolate peanut butter cookies.  That didn't work either.  Some days I suppose it just has to feel like the bottom is falling out life, and that I am sinking, falling, tumbling, and dealing with madness.

 

The past few days have in many ways been grueling, heart wrenching, and full of sadness and madness. I have been waiting for things to be picked up, shaken out, straightened out, and stood upright, to include me. A world that is twirling and whirling around me quite literally is.  I am battling vertigo, which was made more intense after hours of tests on Friday.

 

Prior to the tests I received multiple emails and phone calls from friends wishing me well and telling me they loved me and cared and hoped that this vertigo and ensuing panic attacks would be able to be cleared up and if they could in any way help there were standing ready.  I received calls and notes of prayer and hope and inspiration which all warmed my heart.  All were uplifting and made me feel cherished and truly cared for. How very blessed one is to have friends who are there through thick and thin and love you dearly no matter what.  To be able to text a friend between hours of tests and receive an instant message back, made me feel not so alone and frightened.  A reaching out of love and caring.  It wasn't a pleasant bevy of tests.  Quite the contrary, they were most unpleasant. They threw me into midst of a tornado for two days.  I am somewhat recovered today.  But nonetheless that blasted lump is still in my throat. And honestly I suppose it is just part of the process of all that I have endured in the past few months. 

I opened facebook this morning to a posting by a friend, Janet, in Montana. My vision changed and pain lessened some what. "One day you will wake up and there won’t be any more days left to do what you want to do. Spend time doing things that matter, not worrying about things you can’t change. Remember, it’s all about choices."

 

This last week in the midst of the loving kindness from friends, I was also the recipient of words that were loud and cold and flat and deeply hurtful, hurled at me, unwarranted. and untrue.  The repercussions and pain continue like a knife blade thrust repeatedly into me. I wonder why I can't be stronger and let them pass over me like warm water.  But I am not built that way.  My heart is simply too tender. I have  repeatedly been battered and hurt.  Hurt which I am just now becoming aware that I in no way deserved. 

 

Often people hurt others because they hurt and to feel better they must lash out at you.  But pain is pain and the scars remain, cutting deep, embedded in your soul. So for today I will deal with the madness, by choice or not by choice, and I will be sad and weep.  For there are those that who will raise me up as I walk on the stormy seas of life and assure me that I will once again stand on a mountain and cry tears of joy. To them a heartfelt thank you as my soul, scars and all, will emerge stronger.  Just not today.

ASK~BELIEVE~RECEIVE

In the past few weeks I have been working to cease continually being stuck in the problems of my life and to become embedded and deeply committed to being involved in the solution. This isn't easy.  In fact it is quite grueling at best. Friends understand and support me whole heartily, others don't understand at all and place blame on my lack of availability and accessibility as I take this journey that I must take alone. I have retreated, backtracked if you will, and am taking a well deserved 'time out.' I am resting, cogitating, reading, listening to music, journaling, quieting my life to a manageable pace and focusing on finding answers to questions long neglected.

The issues go back to my childhood.  Trauma and abuse I have carried my entire life had it origins decades ago.  Relationships, bad choices, continued tolerance to being repeatedly treated poorly, thinking I didn't deserve anything better ~ a learned behavior. A general inability to feel any real sense of joy, because I never got to as a child, and unrelenting constant guilt have traveled with me daily. 

 

I have lived my life, my journey, with a passion to inspire and motivate and have true and deep compassion for those I feel need it the most by use of my therapy dogs.  I have founded five non profit organization doing just that. Each are still in operation, for which I am pleased.

What I have discovered is that I never had those blessings bestowed on me. I am telling this not to gain sympathy, quite the contrary.  I am telling these things to make them real.  To make me real.  For in many ways I never have been.  It is easy for me to talk to double and triple amputees, severe burn patients with no nose or ears, coma patients, dying patients, parents whose children are taking their last breath, and the list goes on.  I am blessed to be able to do this, and according to many,  to do it well. Many professionals tell me this is a very rare gift.

 

But what I have discovered, is that in many ways I am giving to others what I so desperately have needed my entire life and never received. A place, a person(s) with whom I could share my tears, my pain, my fears and my laughter and successes. A safe place where nothing is asked of me, except that I be real, be whom I am, be me. I have needed a person who would listen and actually hear what I was trying so vigorously to convey.  But many times, most of the time, I have fallen under the control of domineering and abusive people, while I danced like a puppet trying to be what they wanted and demanded of me, only to be caught in the trap over and over again. When I did not do as they wished/required, I was, as I like to say, "bended, folded, stapled and mutilated."

 

I have written 58 books.  The last several Pockets of Peace series of books are dedicated to providing motivation and inspiration for those in dark places that so often we find ourselves.  Places that I am all too familiar with. In searching my soul, I find I really wrote those books, not only for our wounded warriors and their families, but also for me.  I needed someone to soothe my soul, to inspire and motivate me.  I know all too well the pain of being alone and so desperately needing a hand to hold, as I have met various challenges and countless heartaches.  So I reach out and offer those things to others for them to start a new day, to remember how to open their wings and fly!  Our ability to help and heal others is unlimited.  For me opening my heart to strangers, offering them hope and encouragement, defines why I am on this earth.

 

Now I am learning how to become 'real'.  I sit in my garden and watch the tiny buds opening as they too are trying desperately to climb toward that warm bright light.  I know with no doubt that I will never stop reaching out to people with a smile and often a warm understanding hug and offering them hope and encouragement and the true compassion that they too so dearly long for. They too need to remember how to spread their wings and fly, much like the babies of the white winged dove sitting on her nest right outside my living room window.  I have learned to protect her nest, as if it were my own. Protect her until her babies take flight.  I stand by it as the lawn men mow, so as not to have her frightened.  She seems to sense this protection I have of her ~ this making certain she and her babies are safe. I protect her, as I would love to be protected and sheltered.

 

But for now, for a while, I need to plant my own seeds, give myself gifts, get my nails done, get a massage, begin reading the stack of books that have long gone untouched, I need to find me again.  I need to find laughter, fun, activity, and involvement with those who make me smile and giggle.  I need to walk, sing, and dream.  I need real spiritual/physical therapy that I so urgently need for my personal well-being that has long been neglected..

 

Then and only then I can return to sharing those things with others, lending a shoulder, giving a hug and hopefully some day knowing myself what it is like to be loved unconditionally and fully, in a place where there is laughter and music and joy and most of all respect, understanding, caring and kindness each for the other.  I am going to focus on asking, believing and receiving.  Today is a new day.  I will offer my best and expect to receive all good things in return.

 

 

THE SOUL NEEDS LAUGHTER

 

 

"What makes us human is not our mind but our heart.  Not our ability to think, but our ability to love." ~ Henri Nouwen

 

To this I want to add 'Our ability to laugh."

 

 

 

Our lives are so full, mostly of ourselves, there is little room for anything else! 

 

We forget the value of laughter, of love, of touch, of relationships, friendships, and necessities that often go overlooked.

 

I am a great observer of people.  Not just sitting in airports watching the crowds, but I love to watch what astounds and delights people everywhere.  This tells me everything I need to know about human nature. 

 

It might be educational and interesting to select one day and wherever you go watch people, observe closely.  How many do you see that are truly happy?  How many are astonished and delighted and light up a room?  How many hide behind their cell phone, rudely ignoring you and all around them as if you did not exist and the phone call is more important than are you?  What do their facial expressions tell  you about them? How many people smile at complete strangers or engage a checker at the super store in a conversation, or compliment a stranger on their clothes or their hair? How many are truly involved in their surroundings and all it might entail? How many are truly, viscerally alive?

 

To me there is a distinct absence of people actually reaching out and finding much of anything beyond themselves.  This is especially true when it seems you need them the most.  The worst insult you can hurl at people to is forget or ignore their pain .

 

When we are melted down to our core and are completely exposed, our thoughts and feelings are vulnerable.  And it is quite simply painful. To have that ignored takes away our spirit, our self worth, our dignity, and saps the life out of us. It quite simply makes a sad situation worse, sadder. 

 

Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we're here we should dance! We should grasp all the joy we can and break the rules, laugh uncontrollably and never forget anything that made us smile. 

 

Ever tell a friend, spouse or child...."No not today, we'll do it tomorrow." Do you see their sorrow?When you hurry and worry through your day, it is like an unopened gift.  Thrown away.  Life is not a race.  Take it slower. Hear the music before the song is over.

 

Do something you WANT TO DO, not something YOU SHOULD DO.

 

When you ask "How are you?" Do you hear the reply? Do you care?

 

The soul needs laughter and the soul needs nourishment.

 

 

 

 

 

 

THIMBLEGRAY....

 

 

Today a deviation from the norm...thought this might intrigue you as much as it did me.  For all you horse lovers ~ THIMBLEGRAY~

 

 

Today I joined and now I'll stay.

I'm going to dance the night away.

I'll be myself and never fear

That they will find my hideaway.

I built myself house today

From pine wood, paint, and papier mache.

I drew a crane above my bed.

The perfect little hideaway.

I met a horse on the road today.

I stopped and asked if he would stay

Up at my house and watch the stars

That grace the sky far, far away.

The horse's name was Thimblegray.

He took me up far, far away

To touch the stars that fall to earth

And come to chase bad dreams away.

The bad dreams found my hideaway

I told them all to go away

I cried and pleaded till I choked.

And good dreams faded into grey .

That night I fought and ran away.

I ran find my Thimblegray.

Beside an old dry river bed

I found him eating scarlet hay.

I told him of my hideaway

And how I'd finally run away

He told me to go back to sleep

"These things," he said, "are for the day."

I wept when I saw the hideaway.

I held on tight to Thimblegray.

He let me cry into his mane

Because he had no words to say.

Then, to the sky flew Thimblegray.

He took me up far, far away

To touch the stars that fall to earth

And come to chase bad dreams away.

I fell asleep on Thimblegray.

The devious dreams were sent away.

They fell to earth and turned to rain

In drops of blue and silver ray

Today I joined and now I'll stay.

I'm going to dance the night away.

I'll be myself and never fear

That they will find my hideaway.
~~Author Unknown

WHERE IS THIS THING CALLED HAPPINESS?

 "Don't spend time beating on a wall, hoping to transform it into a door." 

~ Coco Chanel

 

*****

This I get.  I also get Zig Ziglar's words: "When obstacles arise you change your direction to reach your goal.  You do not change your decision to get there!"

 

So I ask how many doors are there?  How many times do we knock on a door or doors only to realize it was the wrong door? Are we wasting our time or are we right where we are supposed to be? How do we arrive at the answer to these questions?  Will it slap us in the face?  Will there be an epiphany? Do our intentions create our reality? Or do we sit and wait for a surprise?

 

Okay, let's consider this.  A surprise can be a grace!  But then I have heard that if you walk through this world by faith, you are rarely surprised.  I get this too.  Sometimes Epiphanies happen when you least expect them, but when you need them the most.  Sometimes people pop in and out of our lives and we somehow just know they will never let us down.  We know they will always be there.  They will be there through thick and thin and good and bad. They will love us no matter what. 

 

"We find rest in those we love, and we provide a resting place for those who love us."

~ Saint Bernard of Clairvaux

 

So perhaps we are trying too hard.  Perhaps it is in the letting go that life happens ~ happens the way it is supposed to. But that letting go part is not the easiest thing in the world is it?  So maybe we need to take heed of the butterfly.

 

"Happiness is a butterfly which when pursued is just beyond your grasp, but which, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you."  ~Nathaniel Hawthorne

 



This week I have learned a great deal. I have learned to say what I want to say and not choke on the words.  What am I saving it for?  I have learned to be myself because no one else is qualified for the job.  And I have learned from an Irish Proverb, "It is in the shelter of each other, that people live."  A good friend is a shelter. And most of all I have learned that Mary Oliver's words in her poem DREAM WORK are right on target ~ "The world goes on despite our despair. The world offers itself to your imagination."

 

Perhaps happiness isn't a thing, it just might be a place.  A place where you are surrounded by people who love you, respect you, who listen to you, who don't judge you, who care for you unconditionally and create a deep, deep bond with you.  It takes time to create a safe place. But perhaps this is where happiness lives and where pain opens your heart to the world.

 

Pain awakens our compassion.  Pain is an opportunity to discover who we really are...a journey we would never be able to take on our own.

 

For now I remain in search of this thing called happiness, drowning out the pain of the past, looking and yearning for a place to quiet the internal noise and to feed my soul.

 

"All animals except man know that the principle business of life is to enjoy it."

~Samuel Butler

 

 

SCHEDULING OUR HEADACHES

A friend sent this to me and in the subject line wrote, "Read this very slowly...it is pretty profound.  I do not know the source. And I edited a bit.

"Too many people put off something that brings them joy just because they haven't thought about it, don't have it on their schedule, didn't know it was coming or are too rigid to depart from their routine.

 

I got to thinking one day about all those women on the Titanic who passed up dessert at dinner that fateful night in an effort to cut back.  From then on, I've tried to be a little more flexible. 

 

How many women out there will eat at home because their husband didn't suggest going out to dinner until after something had been thawed?  Does the word "refrigeration" mean nothing to you?

How often have your kids stopped in to talk and sat in silence while you watched television or talked on the phone?

 

I cannot count the times I called my sister and said, "How about going to lunch in half hour?" She would gas up and stammer, "I can't, I have clothes that have to dry, my hair is dirty.  I wish I had known yesterday.  I had a late breakfast and it looks like rain.  She died a few years ago.  W never did have lunch together.

 

Because Americans cram so much into their lives, we tend to schedule our headaches. We live on a sparse diet of promises we make to ourselves when all the conditions are perfect.

 

Life has a way of accelerating as we get older.  The days get shorter and the list of promises to ourselves gets longer.  One morning, we awaken, and all we have to show for our lives is a litany of "I'm going to," I plan on," and "Someday, when things are settled down a bit."

 

When one of my friends calls she is always off to somewhere exotic.  Her enthusiasm for life is contagious. I am envious. 

 

So go on and have a nice day.  Do something you WANT to...not something on your SHOULD DO list. 

 

If you were going to die soon and had only one phone call you could make, who would you call an what would you say?  And why are your waiting?

 

Have you ever watched kids playing on a merry go round or listened to the raining lapping on he ground?  Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight or gazed at the sun into the fading night?  Do you run through each day on the fly.  When you ask "how are you?" do you hear the answer. And in your haste do you see the sorrow of a friend? Or do you simply say, "Sorry about that," and move on to another topic. 

 

When you worry and hurry through your day, it is an unopened gift...thrown away.  Life is not a race.  Take it slowly.  Hear the music before the song is over.  If you love some one...tell them."

JOY OF LIFE

He is fast asleep with his head on my foot, as I sit at my computer.  He waits patiently and senses any movement I might make.  I can feel his breath and the warmth it brings.  With it comes peace, perfections and comfort. It is all that is needed to make me aware of this moment, this one moment.  I feel drowsy and want to go snuggle him or take a walk.

The medical bills he has accrued and the hours he as absorbed out of my life are monumental.  But the face is one I can't resist.  The crazy spirit, the unbelievable intelligence, and eager attitude awakens something missing inside of me.  I take life seriously, perhaps too seriously.  But then what I do demands nothing less of me.  So when my rescue dog Remy came into my home, he brought baggage, but also he brought joy. Perhaps that is why I am intrigued by this breed (PBGV) and their kookie spirit and joie d vie!  

Remy is a Petite Basset Griffon Vendeen or PBGV. A 45 pound French hound dog, bred to hunt rabbits in the Vendeen region of France. He also hunts squirrels, as they taunt and terrorize each other in the back yard.  He hunts anything and everything that might be edible, from sponges to my router box.  He is a dog that demands I keep one step ahead of him.  He learned rapidly how to open the pantry doors and pull out a 50 pound tub of dog food, loosen the latches and enjoy, and run out the garage into 4 lanes of traffic...frightening me to death...only to turn around come back to me!  He has a voice that would scare off any bad guys and perhaps even some good guys from my house.  Remy has a personality unequaled. 

 

He was born and bred in Texas.  Bought for a pretty penny by a family in Illinois who had him for four years.  They perhaps did not find him as endearing as I, because they called the breeder and wanted to return him after four years.  Why goodness knows but suffice it to say 'dogs are a commitment and deserve to be treated as such.' It seems he was locked in a crate for four years and let out only when it suited the owners. 

Perhaps he needed me as much as I needed him.  I too often feel locked in a crate unable to escape.