Know When To Hold 'Em, Know When To Fold 'Em: Two Basic Rules For Knowing When It's Time To Let Go

Imagine a color, that you've never seen before. Something new. Something that is not blue, red, orange, yellow, green purple, pink, black, white, brown, or gray. Something else entirely. My mind starts to think of textures when I do this exercise...but remember, you are not thinking of a texture you've never seen before, you are thinking of a *color* that you have never seen before. It's impossible to imagine. But every once in a while I like to try and see what I come up with.

Likewise, trying to imagine a feeling or a way of being, that your parents never taught you is kind of hard and sometimes close to impossible. Sometimes we need help. Another person who can model that behavior, or help teach us how to do things. 

Growing up with a mother who didn't stand up for herself very much, meant that I never really learned how to do it very well. I was always taught to turn the other cheek, and to always work toward peace and an accord. To always be looking for ways to improve a situation. But in some situations, with some people, approaching conflict like that will only lead to more and more conflict. Sometimes, you need to stand up for your right to be treated with kindness and dignity. To honor your basic humanity and self-worth you have to have limits on what you will allow in your life. What kind of treatment is OK, what kind of treatment is not OK (but still a resolvable situation), and when it is healthiest to call it quits and walk away. Kind of like the lyrics to The Gambler said "You gotta know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em, know when to walk away...and know when to run!" 

To me the rules on when you should simply disengage and walk away are simple: 

1. If further contact is likely to cause harm to yourself, it's time to go. 

2. If you are not dealing with a reasonable and rational person, it's time to go. 

This has been a hard lesson for me to learn in life because I like to imagine that everyone is capable of having a heart-to-heart dialogue and of resolving conflict in life. But the simple truth is we are not all capable of that. And those of us that are, are capable to varying degrees at different times in our lives, depending on what is going on. It's hard to walk away from people or a situation that you may have a personal stake in or emotional investment. But sometimes it is for the best. 

Before we can love others, we have to love ourselves. We have to be good to ourselves and lift ourselves up with words and thoughts of kindness and self-love first. Otherwise we will not have anything genuine to give. You can't give away emotions that you do not possess for yourself. If you've never learned how to love yourself, then authentically loving others especially in the stormy parts of life is infinitely harder.  

Overcoming Obstacles: The Foreclosure & Being Robbed

So many things have happened to me since I last posted. I'm surprised that the blog has kept a fair amount of readers coming back. To those of you who just kept coming back, and perusing my older posts...thanks.

I wasn't exactly sure where to begin, with what has been going on with my life. And that initial "not knowing where to start"  quickly became overwhelmed and just deep-bone-tired. I didn't want to look back at what I had just gone through. It was too painful and too fresh. I just wanted to move forward with my life and just keep going. But even those intentions seemed to befuddle me. I've been waiting to write, so that when I did, it would be something positive. Something useful. I didn't want to seem like a sad or broken person. Or like someone who whined a lot or was constantly down. So I waited. I waited for the wisdom and the beauty of life to occur to me. I waited to see the deeper life lessons that could be gleaned from tragedy. I know they're there. But honestly. I am a little wounded. The things that I've been through *did* hurt. A lot. And they still do. Don't feel sorry for me folks, 'cause I'm making it through just fine. But denying the pain of it, just isn't helping me any. So it's time I just get back to trying to be real. The real me. With everything that entails. -Including being hurt and sad at times. So here it is: my childhood home, a place which should be mine today, was foreclosed on. The bank refused to speak with me, after my mother died, and refused to acknowledge me as the rightful owner. They wouldn't accept any payments from me. And in the end, stole my family home. A place, where my grandparents lived and died. A place where my own mom, lived and died. A place where in some ways I have lived and died a little too.

I never thought I would see this day; when my home was not my *home* anymore. The word "home" has so many connotations. And I've been struggling with it ever since the move. When my mother died, I struggled with it then too. I didn't feel like that house was home anymore, without her there. It was hard coming home to an empty house, with no one to greet me, and no one to love. The place that I live in now, is so different. The people are very different, and not very warm in the way my family was. So it's hard. I miss that. I miss feeling like "I belong" here, and that "this is my home" because my heart tells me so. My heart keeps telling me that this current place is not my home. It's just a temporary place. A tent in the desert..but not the promised land. I know that I should be grateful for what I've been given, and I am. I just also, feel very alone and adrift right now. And I *want* to feel that wonderful feeling of *home* again. The feeling of love, and warmth, and comfort. It has very little to do with the actual house really, and so much to do with the people. -I miss my family. Deeply. Every day.

I am loved. I know that. And I do experience joy, and happiness. But not in the same quantities or frequent daily occasions that I used to. Not to the same depths either. It's a hard adjustment to make. And I get stuck on how to appropriately express this grief, while not insulting those who actually do love me and are here for me. -I don't want to hurt their feelings, but I know that I do. Just by being sad, I do.

Somewhere in this whole ordeal, I was robbed. The robbers took everything of value. It's been several months since this happened, and the things that they stole that I was most upset about (my grandparent's wedding photo's) -which I'm sure they weren't *trying* to take, but unfortunately were stored with other things that they did want; have luckily been replaced! How can a wedding photo be replaced you ask? Well I'll tell ya! Luckily for me, in an old antique chest in the garage, my grandparents had ONE duplicate copy of their wedding picture inside the church

...and to my surprise...ANOTHER photo that was taken of them *outside* the church!

YAY! Awesome discovery!!! Also...since my mother was adopted, I thought for sure I would never get another copy of her birth parent's wedding photo...but because it was an adoption within the family (the woman I know as my grandma was biologically my great-aunt) there was a copy of that photo given as a gift to my grandparents. :)) YES!

So the most priceless things have been replaced. The diamonds, the gold, the money, the china, the furniture, the antique silver, my photography and computer equipment are all replaceable. Sure it won't be the exact same pair of earrings that my mom gave me, to remind me always that "you are special".  But it doesn't need to be. I know I'm loved. I know I am special. And I know that I will make it through this period of my life and onto greater things. And when I do...I am getting myself a pair of diamond earrings to celebrate. In the mean time...I'm back, I've got my fighting spirit back, and I'm ready to enjoy what there is to enjoy about life.

...Just for good measure...I'm including another awesome photo I discovered in the trunk:

This is my Grandpa when he was a little boy. The year is 1922. The woman with him is his mom, Edith. From what I've been told, Edith was a very loving woman. She used to make fresh whipped cream (whipped by HAND in those days!) EVERY DAY to go with whatever dessert she made. Talk about love!

4th of July

This year, the fourth of July was loads of fun. I went to Sonoma, as usual, and watched the fireworks from the grassy fields next to General Vallejo's house. At first, it looked like there was going to be a group of us...which dwindled down, in the end to two couples. The other car load of people never made it out of Petaluma. Sometimes wrangling a bunch of people together can be a little bit challenging. Oh well...so some of us were in P-town watching the fireworks. The rest of us: Mac, Bean, Katrina and I had front-row seats for a beautiful fireworks show. We brought a large soft blanket and spread out. Mac was sweet enough to carry the bulk of everything from the car and actually set up while I went looking for my friends. I have to say...the cute boy picked a pretty nice spot. :)

On our way out of town, we picked up some tri-tip from Oliver's and various other goodies to nosh for our pick-nick dinner. Bean and Katrina brought the beverages. It felt good watching the fireworks...falling back into a *happy* tradition of mine. I guess those are the things that you do, in order to rebuild your happiness.

Surrounding us, as we watched the fireworks, there was a cacophony of various cries from the crowd. Some were cute and funny, like the 4-year old little girl who kept exclaiming with such sincerity things like: "This is the best fourth of July ever!". Some were just the average hoots and cheers as the show really got under way. And then there were the others. -The annoying group of yahoo's who unfortunately sat directly behind us and kept calling out things like "Penis!", "Homer Simpson!", "Freedom isn't free!"...on and on and on. The first time it was a little funny. But it got old quick. Apparently not to them thought because they kept it up throughout the entire show. At some point, a small single-prop aircraft began to circle the fireworks. Which "ruined it" for the yahoo's sitting behind us. -This I found very amusing, since they had been "ruining it" for the rest of us.

When the show was over, our group sat and relaxed merrily talking and laughing away. From experience, I've learned that you have two good options: 1. run for the car immediately and peel out of the parking lot before anyone else gets back to theirs. or 2. relax and watch the stars and hang out a while longer, giving the throngs of people time to sit in their cars...until slowly, the traffic moves through and by the time you get to your car...there's no waiting. :) We took option 2.

Katrina even was nice enough to take a picture for the yahoo's to commemorate the occasion. (she's such a nice girl!)

Sometime after the crowds had started to clear, I noticed a heap of stuff right next to us. "Somebody left their bag of garbage there."  -Ooops! Turns out I was wrong. It was the small woman who kept calling out "beautiful" throughout the show. She was drunk and had passed out. She started talking in her sleep, and it became apparent that she had undergone some sort of trauma in her life.

It reminded me of all of those sad and lost souls that I would come across in the SNF's The old woman in the hallway, who was so distraught. So sure that I was her daughter and that she had to make things right with me. She felt so bad. I couldn't convince her that I was actually somebody else, and that we were in a medical facility. That I was actually there to see *my* mother at the end of the hallway. She grabbed onto my hand and looked deeply, pleadingly into my eyes. The only thing that I could do for her, was play along. I forgave her. I pretended to be her daughter, and told her that everything was going to be all right. That she was safe and loved. And that everything was OK. It calmed her down immediately. She sat back into her wheelchair with a feeling of relief. Some part of me felt a little bad for my deception. But I also thought "Well...what can I really do to help this woman feel OK right here and now?"

Mac suggested that we give the woman our blanket. To which I thought immediately "No way! My mom gave me this blanket." It was one of the very last things my mother ever gave me. I remember at the time the frustration that I had felt over her gift. I didn't want her to spend any money on me. But then, in subsequent years, I was glad that she had. It was a large, soft, pale grass-green blanket. The texture of it even looked a bit like grass. I can't tell you how many times I fished that blanket out of the dryer and wrapped it around my mom. Or the pizza Friday's that we would spend snuggled up underneath it as we watched movies and ate popcorn. So when Mac suggested giving it to this homeless woman, my heart clamped down and said NO. The woman must have heard us talking about it because she asked us if we had a blanket we could give her. She then went on to tell us how she was so cold. Which also went straight to my heart, and overrided my *no*. I thought about all of those times that my mother needed somebody's love and nurturance. And how in this world, it is so easy to *not give*...to ignore. To turn away from our opportunities to be of service to others simply because it is in our own best interest or even worse...just because it's easy. -Yep. I was guilty of that. I was being selfish and small. Guilty as charged.

"Do you have a home?" I asked. -I wanted to make sure, before I gave her my beloved wubby...that she wasn't just some rich drunk Sonoma housewife who had passed out in the field and would toddle on home in the morning.

"Not now." she replied. (oh.)

"OK. We have a blanket for you. We'll give it to you in a minute after we've packed up our stuff."

"Thank you."

We packed up the remainder of our pick-nick, and put a small pile of individual containers of food right next to her with an apple juice for when she woke up in the morning. Then, Tim and I covered her up with the blanket.

"There you go sweetie."

As we walked back to the car, Mac kissed me and promised me that he would buy me a new blanket. He said that it was *his* mom coming out in him. Her generosity of spirit. I know that in many ways, Mac's mother contributed quite a bit to the world around her. Giving that woman my blanket was the right thing to do. I can't say that it was easy. It was my favorite blanket and in some way felt a bit like letting go of my mother, not just a blanket. But it was the right thing to do.

...Hey...after all...it's just a blanket right? I can buy a new one. No biggie.

I Wish You Would Call Me Your Sweet Little Artichoke Again. How Inappropriate Is That???

Mar. 1st, 2010 at 12:53 AM

Gah! I miss him so much. And I hate that. I want to not feel this quiet pang of discontent. This persistent yearning. I want to want his happiness. Even if that means a future without *us* together. To never speak again like we did, for hours everyday, looking forward to the next moment when we would talk, be together, to see his beautiful quiet smile and know that it was just for me. I can't tell you how much I miss that. I want to be mature and kind. To know better than this and move on. I want to be good. I want to be smart. And I want to find someone who truly loves me for me and will not let me go. (Le sigh) Deep breath. Remember that. He chose. And he let you go. He chose her, and he tried to forget you. So now it's time to let him go, wish him well, and forget him. It's ok. There will be more amazing men in your life. Remember next time how rare they are, and try hard not to fuck it up. The only reason you are feeling this way now, is because you spoke with him again and it was wonderful. Don't do that to yourself anymore! Only risk what you can afford to lose. And at this point you can't afford to lose your head or your heart. ...But then again...can you ever? How do people fall in love with all of this quiet angst and pulling in divergent directions? How do they ever manage it???
Groups:Inner Circle Peeps
Mood:  restless




Comments





vanmedi wrote:
Mar. 1st, 2010 06:52 pm 
Wow. What a drama queen. Ha! I feel better now. Isn't it funny how late at night things feel so urgent and dire sometimes. Pish-tosh. Moving on now...





dancingsinging wrote:
Mar. 2nd, 2010 05:30 pm 
Sorry you're having to suffer through it so much. And just because you feel better in the morning doesn't mean it's not real.


Oh, and by the way--you didn't fuck it up. Nothing you could have done would have made it work. You know that, don't you? If not--take yourself off to alanon or your therapist! It's not your fault!





vanmedi wrote:
Mar. 2nd, 2010 10:07 pm 
Oh hehe. This isn't about Joshua at all. I know there's nothing I could have done to make *that* work. I'm actually doing quite well regarding that. :) ...and I'm doing pretty well regarding this too. I just spoke with someone that I hadn't spoken with in a long time...and he's still amazing and wonderful. That's all. But I need to focus on improving myself before I'm ready for that. -Improving doesn't quite sound right...I guess what I'm saying is that I have all the time in the world for that to either work out or not...but in the forefront right now, I need to be chanting, exercising, sleeping a lot more than I am now, having time in the sunshine with my friends, loving my mom, and streamlining my life, and working on my goals. There's time for boys later. There's always time for boys when it's the *right* time.