insanity

Thirty Years of Quiet

/ Laurie / Leave a comment

It was less than a week; a mere five days after my previous post, I received a phone call, one I never expected to receive. Not because I was not warranted a call, but simply because I did not know how someone would possibly contact me when I knew so little myself. As I mentioned in that last post, it has just been in the past few years that I finally took the time to face my pain and sorrow and deal with the grief that was consuming me.

I was house sitting and watching football when my phone rang and I saw a name on the caller ID that I had not seen in years. It was my ex-mother-in-law. I instantly thought something must have happened to Dad and was quickly preparing myself for the worst. Even though it has been thirty years, this year in fact, and the occasional phone calls ended long ago. We still stayed in touch via Facebook, and I always felt loved and knew they were proud of their grandchildren. So the sudden thought that one of them was gone was heartbreaking.

I said hello, and there was that oh-so-familiar voice saying, “Laurie, it’s Mom; Dad needs to talk to you.” I was suddenly wondering what on earth might be wrong, and then I heard Dad, and with his voice nearly breaking, he simply said, “Eddie (their son, my ex-husband) died last night.”

If I had not had the phone resting on the arm of the sofa and on speaker, I would have dropped it. I was instantly in shock, and I was overwhelmed with so many emotions. He would share with me that Eddie had recently reached out to his brother and even more recently had been quite ill and in the hospital, and that is where he died. He didn’t have a lot of information at the time, so our call was short. When I hung up, I fell into myself and wept. The sort of loud aching cries you see on a sad and dramatic movie. I was consumed with the tears and flooded with memories of a lifetime ago.

I reached out to a few friends, women on my “Prayer Warrior” list, and asked them to pray with me, for me, and of course, the rest of the family. Then I waited for my daughter to get home so I could tell her. I also called my other daughter and shared the news with her and sent a text to my son, who was working, letting him know I wanted to talk to him when he got home. Their reactions were their own, realizing that this is someone who was once labeled “dad” or “father,” that this man played the role for so little of their lives, and that his absence had been acknowledged years ago and that part of their lives quite simply left in the past.

I, on the other hand, kept drifting back into the vast valleys of nothingness; that is, until I would get back to the very beginning, to a mountain range and a river and a love I thought would never end. We met in Wyoming, surrounded by the beautiful Teton Mountains, and often walked along the edges of the great Snake River. It was so beautiful there, and our lives were just as beautiful. Our two oldest children were born there in Jackson Hole, and we had friends and such a good little life. He was a carpenter and built houses, but when you have more months of snow and winter-type weather than not, it is hard to maintain that sort of livelihood.

So we moved to Georgia, to be near his family and continue our life. And this is where our love story would take a not-so-lovely turn. He was an addict, sober when I met him and those first few months in Georgia. If you know anything about addicts or alcoholics, it is often talked about: old playgrounds and old playmates. With our move, my loving husband would step into both.

I won’t take you through it all; it’s much too long and doesn’t all need to be told, but it all was turned upside down so quickly, and while looking back, I could see the start of it much sooner than the woman I was then. And while it might be interesting to play the “what if” of the whole situation, I won’t do that either. It simply was, until it wasn’t, and when it wasn’t, it was bad.

We went from a life where even after working an 8-10 hour day, my husband would come home and take over with the kids. He would change diapers and help get them off to bed; he really was a wonderful daddy in those short first years and just as wonderful of a husband. We would often spend an evening after the kids were asleep dancing in the living room listening to Garth, Tim, and Faith. The early 90s provided for some pretty great country music. We loved and enjoyed it all. In fact, it was two of Garth’s songs that provided me grounding and solace as the years would grow longer and his absence just as long. The River, as well as The Dance. It was through these two songs, somehow “living” them to a sense, that I made it through the darkest of days.

But then that fall, some thirty-odd years ago, it ended just as quickly as it began. We had met in Oct 1992 and married the following Oct, a year to the day. And it would be after a little over a year of living in Georgia that the fall would be the setting for the end of our story. Life was crashing around us; we were evicted from our home and moved in temporarily with his parents, who I am sure only took us in because of the kids. They were 3 years old, 2 years old, and 4 months old, and I will be forever grateful that they gave me the stepping stone I would need to move forward into a dark and lonely unknown.

And I would move forward because after a month of living with his parents while their home was staged for sale, I finally had to make a choice, and I chose my children. His parents were gone most of the weekends we were staying with them at the end, as they were house hunting in Florida and would be moving. That was another thing that weighed heavy on my decision. I would not have anyone to help bail us out if something like this happened again. Yes, his brother and family were there, but it was hard enough asking his parent for help. I couldn’t imagine needing to turn to them in such a manner.

Once I decided I would be going home to Nebraska, his parents asked me to have him leave. So I did; I packed up all his clothes and put them in a backpack, and when he came home on that particular night, I told him I was leaving with the kids and gave him his things. He wanted to see the kids; I wouldn’t let him. I didn’t want to confuse them, plus they were excited about going on an airplane to see their other grandparents.

He hugged me that night, long and tight… I did not hug him back; I was terrified that if I did, I would never let go. So I didn’t, and when he finally released me, he turned around and walked off into the darkness defeated and broken. I went inside and fell to the floor, my back against the door, and I cried until there were no more tears. Then I went to bed, so I could get my kids ready for our big adventure in the morning.

It would be another year before I would file for divorce, hoping that our leaving would be his “bottom” and he would follow us to Nebraska. He never did and thus began my journey as a single mom. I would struggle with my own demons and addictions, alcoholism rearing its ugly head, yet it would be another decade before I would tackle that part of my so-called life.

So here I am three decades later, over two decades sober, and stronger than I ever could have imagined. I have done a lot of additional reflection in these past couple of weeks, pondering on just where my path has taken me. Oddly enough, I wouldn’t change much. Because it is that unpredictable, difficult, often scary road I was guided down, that road got me to my here and now, to the wonderful place I am today. If even one small thing had changed or altered my path, well, I think I would have missed out on some pretty wonderful relationships, including the addition of my youngest daughter. As well as a few lifelong friends, even though we are now separated by part or most of the state.

It is during this reflection and some well-timed events at work when I have been challenged to do some deep thinking, to survey all that has transpired behind me, and to think about what the future might hold. Thinking a lot about life and legacy and just what I want to be remembered for. What I want to leave for the ones I leave behind.

I have been fortunate to work for the same company for going on eight years this December. This in itself is crazy, because I have never been at any one job for this long, ever. It is an incredible company, and it is the ethics and culture that have also allowed me to deepen my own values, and in addition, adding ones, such as “assume positive intent,” bleed from the workplace into my life.

Don’t get me wrong, even with all I have been through, I usually have tried to see the best in people, to my own detriment at times, but over these past few years, while engrossed in such a positive work culture and being involved in a recovery program, I was able to put some of those processes to work in my day-to-day work and home life. The whole idea of adages like “All I need to know I learned in kindergarten” or “Treat others the way you want to be treated,” as well as “Do the next right thing.” Putting these phrases into action, walking the walk, not just talking… So many of these have become a part of my core being.

So as I contemplate this loss and its true finality, the tears were brief, because I did the hardest part of the work five years ago, and for that I am so grateful. I am also so thankful for a bit of news that also helped me to remember the man I once loved over the one who let me leave. As you will recall, I doted on what a wonderful father and husband this man had been. And he was; he would bring me flowers “just because,” leave the bar and come home to me and the babies, and not give a damn about what his friends thought. He is the man who loved and then adopted my oldest child; to him, she was always his. He was a good man, with a loving heart, who lost everything I hope he held dear to his disease.

On one of the calls with my in-laws, Dad shared that back in January, Eddie had made it known he was to be an organ donor. The fact that he could be gives me hope he found some sort of sobriety in the end. That knowledge makes me smile. So even with failing lungs, that would lead to his death; he was able to donate, and he ultimately saved three lives. It is that gesture, that final act of goodness, that makes his loss not as heavy and those early memories a little fonder and easier to hold on to.

I hope he found peace in the end; he deserves that, we all do. It would be so easy to think, “Good riddance.” What did he do for me anyways? I will tell you what he did: he was the first and only man who loved me completely and without hesitation, even though I was broken and scarred. He didn’t care; he simply loved. He helped me heal, and then, without knowing it, his actions would help give me the strength to do the unthinkable and raise my family, our family, on my own.

Do I wish life would have been easier? Yes, one hundred times, yes! But there is another phrase that I am quite fond of: “God doesn’t give you more than you can handle.” I used to think, and even say out loud to Him, “Why do you think I am strong enough for this?” It would be years later from the first time I heard it to hearing an additional piece of wisdom that one needs to consider with that phrase. He gives you the things, situations He knows you need to turn to Him or someone else for help; none of it was meant to be tackled alone. Man, I wish I would have learned that part sooner; independence and pride kept me struggling for so long. Living in the insanity of doing the same thing over and over again… with nothing ever changing.

Today I have learned to ask for help when I need it, and surprisingly I need it less. I still try and put family first, especially with all my new grandchildren. I would do anything I could for any and all of them. And that is where my legacy or what I want it to look like comes in. I want them to know, just like their parents did, that Nana will always be there unless she absolutely can’t. That I will cheer the loudest, even if it might embarrass you as you get older. I am oh so proud of everything you do. That I will always write “Love you bunches, Nana” in each and every book. Because I do.

I often use the following hashtags when I post photos of my family, especially the grands, and I think that is how I will end this post: #NanaLife #iamblessed #familyiseverything (because I am and it is)

Silent Abyss

/ Laurie / Leave a comment

“Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes, including you.” – Anne Lamott

Hello again. Here I am finally plugging back in to one of the things I find most important–sharing my voice, filling the silence. Long time no… anything. If you came here to hear from me recently and not so recently, you would perhaps have had the already present words echoing around the once again created void.

Many months ago, I found myself harboring a resentment. Dwelling on what I thought should have happened and then mulling over all that was occurring–or should I say, had occurred. I put my trust with someone and at a time when I was still dealing with so much grief and struggle; I was placed in a place that I did not want to be in. Hurting, but being put on the spot by someone who was supposed to be one of my “safe places.” Angrily being told I was picking all the wrong things to do and work on. That my working on myself, learning how to deal with my grief (which they had encouraged), was overshadowing the things they felt were more important for me to be considering. That I was choosing one place or situation or group of people over another and that it needed to be changed. This person looked at me and asked, “How much Grief Share do you need anyways?”

I was at a loss for words, I just stood there, not knowing how to respond and trying not to cry. I managed to get some sort of words out, that allowed the conversation to end and walked away. I was in shock, dumbfounded, how could this person be so harsh, so ugly with their words? I simply didn’t know, and I also didn’t know what to do about the situation. Now, this person did send an apologetic text, expressing that they were sorry for their behavior and hoped that I could forgive them. I said I did, because I wanted to, but it ended up creating a harder path to travel with this person. A path I would try to stay on until I simply could not any longer.

For me, the text was never enough, it could have been generated by AI for all I knew and what I wanted was to hear this person voice the apology, to see the truth of it in their face… but that is something that never happened. We ventured to some of the same places, and this person would reach out to me and offer me a ride, (what was I supposed to say, NO, I don’t want to ride with you. That would have been rude, I couldn’t be rude.) Many times I was tired and someone else driving was an appreciated gesture. We would be in the car together, and more times than not, they would act like nothing, had ever happened between us. This relational exchange was so frustrating, but I couldn’t find the words to say so, so I just kept wading in the sludge of our relationship.

This went on for a while, too long, mostly because I simply didn’t know how to end things, or even if that was indeed what I was supposed to do. So, I mustered the energy to keep trudging, even as the situation thickened around me. I continued wading in the sludge that was our toxic relationship. I did this daily, to my own detriment, until I simply couldn’t any longer.

The group of friends we shared often did things together, I was missing my other friends, but the idea of having to share space with this one person was often overwhelming and finally I knew that I had to make a hard choice if I were to keep my peace of mind, my sanity. So, I found a way to say all that I needed to say, back to the beginning incident. I shared that I did forgive them, but there was still so much ache, so much anguish from that previous moment, that I could simply not continue to have a relationship with them. The trust between us was no longer present, it had been dissolved by their actions and their words that day.

Feeling the freedom of that not-so-small action was short-lived, because I had to be intentional about where I went and what I did, choosing my steps wisely. But these choices, and frankly, lack of steps began a journey into a quiet abyss. And there I stayed, not doing much of anything unless it was with my family or church related. Top that with the fact I work from home, I became the Queen of Isolation, and in the beginning, it felt like sanctuary.

That sanctuary was short-lived. I saw the signs; I saw what I was doing–or better said, not doing–and did nothing to change. It wasn’t until my TV broke and while waiting for a part to try and fix it to arrive, I would watch the smaller TV in my bedroom, which is also my office. So, I went from isolating in my apartment, to isolating in my bedroom for hours on end. I suddenly realized how small my world was becoming. Self-created. I needed to make the effort for something to change. I had to make a change, or I might keep sliding further into the abyss. Telling myself the lies of old– there’s next to no one I can trust outside of family and I am better off alone; I can count on me… count on me to go crazy!

So, I am trying, trying to venture back out into the world again. A world that is larger than church or one of my children’s homes. It’s been interesting and I am probably still not getting out as much as I should, but I am trying. I have started going to a new/old fellowship group at church on a night I have open and its part of starting. Starting to do things differently, because I do know all too well, that doing the same thing over and over, is indeed only clinging to insanity. It’s time to let go.

It’s time to let go and let God, how many times have I heard that, said it myself, but still did nothing different. So here I am letting go of the chains that hold me down in this abyss and reaching out to the hands that are reaching out to me–most importantly to His hand, reaching down to lift me out and back into the vibrant colors of fall. I have a grin suddenly coming across my face, as the fall, this awkward month of October, used to be the anchor of another abyss. The abyss that led me to Greif Share and learning how to let go of the hurt and pain and instead hang onto the moments that lighten our hearts and lift us up out of the abyss.

Quiet Hovel & Swiss Cheese

/ Laurie / Leave a comment

Ok, so I tend to stay stuck in the silence much longer than I need to. And its not the good kind of silence, instead its the overbearing, weigh me down, allow me to begin to feel a little sorry for myself sort of silence. As I sit in the self created little hovel, wailing alone. I am reminded that I know better. Yet, I get up in the morning, knowing I should do more (wanting to do more). Like jumping on the yoga mat, a treadmill, anything that would be “good for me” and my health. But, that would take getting up sooner than 30 mins before my work days starts and barely doing that sometimes. It’s simply been easier to not go to bed at night, staying up to watch another episode of a show that I have most likely watched a dozen times already… or starting a new show, and even though its only “so-so”, feeling vested after a season, that I just have to finish it.

Which brings me to the more honest realization that it is truly too easy to just sit there and not go to bed, too easy to allow the silence once again, to surround me; allowing that silence to grow louder every day. And as a recovering alcoholic, this practice is indeed a dangerous game. Because I know better, I know better for the 101 thousand reasons, and even though I have no desire to drink; I have a lot of really bad habits that come spiraling into view when I get to the place I am recently, the warm little hovel that has been my intermittent home these past few months.

I am thrilled to share, err admit; that this is merely self-discovery, once again… I can pinpoint the when, where, and who of it all. It used to make me so angry, that I allowed then myself to stay stuck in a moment that wasn’t going change; that was what it was and trying to think about having a different outcome, expecting different results, is merely the insanity that I know all to well.

Its all to easy for me to blame the other people, places or things… when I start to feel squirrelly. But, if I am really listening to the spinning wheel in my head, because the squirrels are running at 101mph; I know better.

I know, that I am the one to allow the situation to be what it is, in allowing my magic magnifying mind to manufacture all sorts of situations; including being angry or frustrated, sad, or overwhelmed. All the things, all the feels, is all about me, and I have to remember to own that.

I am so thankful that just a few days ago a dear friend reached out to me and asked me to help her be accountable. Because when it boiled down to it, I needed that too and I told her so. I am happy to be there for you, because, sadly I need the same. I had completely let go, and not in a good way; I had completely let go of what, that part of my life offered… the fellowship that was created, the serenity that was created, and it had become to easy to just say “screw it”.

So because of that conversation, I took off the mask that I had put back on after years of not wearing any mask at all… wearing that mask made it easier to live in the masquerade I was trying to emulate, so that no one would guess that there was still something wrong. Because Laurie was still doing what Laurie needed to do. And for the most part I was, I worked, paid my bills, and got through a given day. But… I stopped doing the other things, the other things necessary things for me, as an alcoholic to keep me healthy and whole.

I love swiss cheese. And that is basically what I created in my life, was a block of swiss cheese. I kept falling into the different “holes” of nothingness; the voids of silence that those spaces, or lack of space create. I just wallowed in those voids. It took getting a really good nights sleep, which I haven’t had in weeks; to wake up feeling good, but even more so, thankful; so very thankful for my life and my health and for what I know I can have, it I simply just use the tools of the program.

I have often used the expression, when discussing the “spiritual toolbox” of putting my toolbox in the back of the closet, thinking I didn’t need it any longer. And once again, I have been proven wrong; because once again, with just a little prodding… I dragged it out and opened it up once again. Those tools can be profound and cumbersome; but oh so necessary for my sanity, and those around me.

So the first of those tools, I pulled out and brushed off the bit of dust that had started to gather was to talk/text another person in this program daily; getting out of self. Then, with the encouragement of my dear friend, to share the gratitude I have in my life. Next, it was time to leave the hovel for more than family or church, and plug back into the fellowship that the program has so often encouraged me.

So I took the proverbial leap and even looked for a new meeting to go to. I found one close to home and got into my car and was on my way. I was a little nervous when I got there, I always am when going to a new meeting, first time encounters not my strong suit. But as I entered the room, I saw a familiar face and I knew it would be OK. There was some fun football banter before the meeting started and it was good to laugh and be apart of the sort of togetherness a meeting can bring.

Within moments, I was reminded of what I had been denying myself; something I enjoy. More importantly, something that allows me to thrive in the silence that sometimes fills my mind. God certainly works in unusual ways, but once again, He allowed me to be exactly where I needed to be; where He needed me to be. The topic was just what I needed to hear, and even allowed me to share where I was in my recovery, allowing me to share my truth.

I even stayed after the meeting and spoke with that familiar face and another woman, something I rarely do at any “new” situation. It was wonderful, to continue to share, to feel a part of the fellowship again, even in a brand new setting. For the first time in quite some time, I feel energized, alive in a way I have not felt in so long, as I continue to battle the not always seen demons in my life.

I am so grateful to be able to knock down the hovel and keep the swiss for my crackers at snack time… to put away the mask and remember the woman I see in the mirror each day, is pretty OK. To remember that self-care is important and to allow myself to revel in the place I find myself once again… the comfort and serenity of the fellowship that has saved me more than once in my life. I am looking forward to creating new relationships, new friendships with the like-minded people that like it or not, are my tribe.