Snap Out of It, America! Learn How to C-O-P-E!

I rarely look at Drudge anymore. It’s too depressing. Similar to WND, it always makes me feel like America is going to hell in a hand basket – quickly.

Unfortunately, I indeed checked out Drudge recently, and it brought me to a sobering headline (pun intended):

“70 million Americans Take Mind-Altering Drugs”

Wait. What? 70 MILLION?! New York has about 10 million people – 7 times the population of New York City is under the influence of something?!! What?!

So I click on it. It takes me to WND. Of course. The two websites I try to avoid, because they get me very riled up. And guess what? I’m VERY riled up.

The statistics are STAGGERING. Here is a rundown:

22 million Americans use illegal (aka "recreational") drugs.

Approximately every 19 minutes someone dies from an overdose.

58 million Americans have an alcohol issue. (Which I interpret to mean they choose to have more than one drink per day, every day.)

In addition to the obvious problems I have already listed, 50 MILLION people are using legal, mind-altering drugs - 50 MILLION Americans are PRESCRIBED psychedelic drugs (think Vicodin, Percocet, Oxycontin, Morphine, etc).

Total that up, and 130 million people are in a state of altered-reality.

I have not double-checked the statistics this guy is throwing out. I have no reason to doubt their validity. But just for argument’s sake, let’s say his error rate is +/- 5% - heck I’ll even decrease the numbers 10 percent. That still leaves just under 120 million in a state of altered-reality.

The “Northeast Megalopolis-” Boston to DC is only 50 million people.

To understand 120 million people, you need to comprehend adding the entire population of the five most highly populated states – CA, TX, NY, FL and Illinois. Adding the ENTIRE population of those five states totals approximately 121 million. (Good for you, one million sober people!)

If the original statistic of 130 million is in fact correct, you have to add in the sixth state, Pennsylvania.

The numbers of Americans on some sort of mind-altering substance is OVER 100 MILLION. At least 100 million of us cannot handle life enough to take it straight.

That is a very sad state of affairs in the United States of America. I understand there are benefits that people receive from their prescribed stupor, but it also alters your mind. It puts you in a situation where you are incapable of dealing with reality.

Straight up reality.

Sober reality.

It is so sad to see that over 100 million Americans are willing to take the risk of dying of an overdose or dying in a car accident or even killing in a car accident - just to avoid their reality.

Even if the numbers are off. Even if the numbers grossly overstated - isn't even a million people too many to be continually high?!

If we want to make this country a better place, we need to start with teaching COPING skills.

As for me, I'm sticking to NPR.

MommaBear is ANGRY!

Heart on My Sleeve

I'm an emotional* person. Always have been. Histrionic** is how a psychologist described it once. If you know anything about a Scorpio***, you know what I mean. Extremely emotional - and in a pendulum swing kind of way. I lack the ability to be lukewarm, apathetic and/or neutral. I do not like anything - I either love it or hate it (and I mean capital L-O-V-E love or I'm gonna kick you in the neck, staple Bacon to your face and piss on your dog HATE). If you look up hyperbole in the dictionary, my picture is totally there.

(Un)fortunately, I am the same whether we are talking about inanimate objects, animals or human beings. If I love you, I would seriously kill for you****. Some people don't participate in relationships like I do - family, friend, lover, whatever - if I love you, you are a priority. Always.

I'm extreme. I know. I try to tone it down. I try to let folks breathe. I really don't mean to smother. (I'm sorry if I've ever smothered you.)

All this to say, when I think a person is cool or pretty or smart or righteous or brilliant or fantastic, I REALLY think they are cool or pretty or smart or righteous or brilliant or fantastic. I don't necessarily want to spend every waking minute with them, but I do want to soak up everything they've got. (Not steal it, just dissect it so I can learn more about the human psyche and possibly become a better person myself.) And I have no problem telling you I think you're coolest thing since sliced bread.

The reason I write all of this is to tell you that I get hurt easily. I wear my heart on my sleeve and often times it feels like it should be the stereotypical heart with a dagger through it. So often I feel rejected or abandoned and it crushes me. I pour my heart and soul into people and relationships and so often (it seems) I get shit on.

Fortunately (for you), I have no intention of changing. I will continue to give my everything to the the people I love, people I adore and people I think are just all-around "good eggs." So, consider yourself warned. If you show yourself to be awesome, I just might try to sit at your feet and soak up your awesomeness.

* I think my husband was uber excited today when my emotional outburst literally had nothing to do with him!

** Google, you never cease to amaze me. There is an actual disorder for histrionic people!

*** It is as if someone described a Scorpio woman to me when I was 2, and I said, "Okay, I can be that."

**** Seriously, I'll fucking kill her and take the rap and be totally cool with it, because I love you.

Just Another Sunday Part Deux

Yesterday was again, Just Another Sunday.

Maybe next year...

Commitment

Some of you may not know this, but I have been divorced. I failed in my commitment to my first husband. Not from lack of effort, believe you me, but because I allowed myself to grow weary and tired. I refused to acknowledge the problems my ex-husband and I were having to anyone outside of the relationship and thus the communication between him and I failed - at every turn. There's 1,000 additional layers to that story, but at the bare bones of it all, I gave up.

I was very embarrassed by that fact for a long time - to the point where I had almost begun to forget that I was ever married before November 23, 2007.

However, I now believe that remembering the mistakes I made helps me to better understand the word "commitment."

I remember when my first husband and I were first married, I read an article in Relevant Magazine about "starter marriages" and thought it was the most absurd thing I'd ever read about. People getting married, then divorcing within five years and claiming they learned a lot about marriage, commitment, etc...It seems an oxymoron to learn about commitment through divorce, but I have to acknowledge, it happened in my life.

I swore up and down forever and ever that I would never ever ever get divorced. My parents were divorced and it was ugly and I wanted no part of it. I make no excuse for my choice to sin, please don't misread. Divorce IS ugly and should be avoided at all costs. I NEVER advocate for that choice - especially since I've been through it.

But it IS possible to learn about commitment through divorce.

But more than love it's about commitment. Because it doesn't matter how much you love someone if you're not committed to them.

Come hell or high water.

Love or hate.

Mountain top moments and deep, dark valleys.

Winning the lottery or declaring bankruptcy.

Perfect health or a fatal diagnosis.

Or just year after year after year of living life as two sinful people trying to love Jesus.

It's hard. Really hard. And that's why it's not about how you feel. It's not about your emotions. It's not about getting your needs met. It's about a commitment.

You made a commitment. You said I do, I will, I promise.

That means you change your career if you aren't seeing your spouse enough. You rearrange your life to make it work. You go see a therapist. You become authentic like you didn't know was possible. You ask someone to pray for you and your marriage.

You do whatever. it. takes.

He doesn't love Jesus? So what. You love Jesus with all that you are, follow hard after Him and pray to God that your husband might be won over by the godly behavior of his wife.

When divorce is off the table...when it's not even an option - it will change things. Communication and openness will reach a deeper level.

I read these words written on Valentine's Day by my friend, and they resonated in my soul. I feel them. I live them. I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I will never give up on being Christopher Broussard's wife.


If you learned that without having to go through a divorce first, I'm VERY VERY VERY happy for you. But I couldn't, and that's okay too.

The Best Laid Plans

"The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry." The famous line, translated to current English from Robert Burns' poem "To a Mouse," is expertly explained on Dictonary.com as meaning:

"No matter how carefully a project is planned, something may still go wrong with it."

As I learned this summer, God always has better plans. (That Freewill Reunion led to the bun in my oven!)

However, often times it sucks when our best laid plans falter. Rarely is it due to anything we did wrong or planned poorly. Sometimes, our plans just fail. Unfair as it may be, sometimes that is just the way it is. There is no rational justification - there is only 20/20 hindsight that maps the choices that led us to this disappointing moment. Unfortunately, hindsight is a tricky bastard that can lead us awry! We need to be careful that hindsight does not lead us to regret perfectly awesome decisions that just somehow did not work out in the end.

It sucks to watch a loved one's best laid plans falter. Especially when you can see that it was not due to poor decisions or faulty planning. It is just one of those unfair shitty life moments. It sucks to be helpless to fix it. It sucks to be only able to say, "Wow. That sucks." Especially when it is someone you really love who truly had perfect plans and some outside force just swoops in and goes Katrina all over their lives. Especially when it is someone you really love who is a really good planner who had really great plans that just spontaneously combusted and the remains have the potential to cause irreversible physical, emotional and spiritual damage on peoples' lives.

How do you lovingly encourage someone through that without sounding like you are down-playing it or worse yet, overreacting? How do you help someone without sounding like you are being condescending or even worse, pitying them? How do you shrug it off and lament with them, all the while encouraging them to find a better solution than the present - knowing full-well that the PERFECT plan is no longer an option? How do you guide a heartbroken individual to a place where they not only accept the hand they have so rudely been dealt but actually convince them to embrace it with doe-eyed optimism, mindful excitement and even curiousity?

Vicky Gray Deaton's Note Regarding Marriage

I have no idea where Vicky Gray Deaton got this note. I do not know if she wrote it, or if it happened to someone she knows or if it was just an email forward she received. I do not know. My intent is not to steal it or take credit for it. I did not write this. However, I want you to read it. I want you to learn so many things from it. I want you to feel how the husband, the wife, the son AND the mistress felt. I want you to get a more clear picture of human interaction, human emotion and the human condition...Will you achieve all of these goals I have for you? I do not know, but I PRAY that you at least try.

MARRIAGE...A MUST READ! Saturday, July 17, 2010 at 7:03pm

MARRIAGE

When I got home that night as my wife served dinner, I held her hand and said, I've got something to tell you. She sat down and ate quietly. Again I observed the hurt in her eyes.

Suddenly I didn't know how to open my mouth. But I had to let her know what I was thinking. I want a divorce. I raised the topic calmly.

She didn't seem to be annoyed by my words, instead she asked me softly, why?

I avoided her question. This made her angry. She threw away the chopsticks and shouted at me, you are not a man! That night, we didn't talk to each other. She was weeping. I knew she wanted to find out what had happened to our marriage. But I could hardly give her a satisfactory answer; she had lost my heart to Jane. I didn't love her anymore. I just pitied her!

With a deep sense of guilt, I drafted a divorce agreement which stated that she could own our house, our car, and 30% stake of my company.

She glanced at it and then tore it into pieces. The woman who had spent ten years of her life with me had become a stranger. I felt sorry for her wasted time, resources and energy but I could not take back what I had said for I loved Jane so dearly. Finally she cried loudly in front of me, which was what I had expected to see. To me her cry was actually a kind of release. The idea of divorce which had obsessed me for several weeks seemed to be firmer and clearer now.

The next day, I came back home very late and found her writing something at the table. I didn't have supper but went straight to sleep and fell asleep very fast because I was tired after an eventful day with Jane.

When I woke up, she was still there at the table writing. I just did not care so I turned over and was asleep again.

In the morning she presented her divorce conditions: she didn't want anything from me, but needed a month's notice before the divorce. She requested that in that one month we both struggle to live as normal a life as possible. Her reasons were simple: our son had his exams in a month's time and she didn't want to disrupt him with our broken marriage.

This was agreeable to me. But she had something more, she asked me to recall how I had carried her into out bridal room on our wedding day.

She requested that every day for the month's duration I carry her out of our bedroom to the front door ever morning. I thought she was going crazy. Just to make our last days together bearable I accepted her odd request.

I told Jane about my wife's divorce conditions. . She laughed loudly and thought it was absurd. No matter what tricks she applies, she has to face the divorce, she said scornfully.

My wife and I hadn't had any body contact since my divorce intention was explicitly expressed. So when I carried her out on the first day, we both appeared clumsy. Our son clapped behind us, daddy is holding mommy in his arms. His words brought me a sense of pain. From the bedroom to the sitting room, then to the door, I walked over ten meters with her in my arms. She closed her eyes and said softly; don't tell our son about the divorce. I nodded, feeling somewhat upset. I put her down outside
the door. She went to wait for the bus to work. I drove alone to the office.

On the second day, both of us acted much more easily. She leaned on my chest. I could smell the fragrance of her blouse. I realized that I hadn't looked at this woman carefully for a long time. I realized she was not young any more. There were fine wrinkles on her face, her hair was graying! Our marriage had taken its toll on her. For a minute I wondered what I had done to her.

On the fourth day, when I lifted her up, I felt a sense of intimacy returning. This was the woman who had given ten years of her life to me.

On the fifth and sixth day, I realized that our sense of intimacy was growing again. I didn't tell Jane about this. It became easier to carry her as the month slipped by. Perhaps the everyday workout made me stronger.

She was choosing what to wear one morning. She tried on quite a few dresses but could not find a suitable one. Then she sighed, all my dresses have grown bigger. I suddenly realized that she had grown so thin, that was the reason why I could carry her more easily.

Suddenly it hit me... she had buried so much pain and bitterness in her heart. Subconsciously I reached out and touched her head.

Our son came in at the moment and said, Dad, it's time to carry mom out. To him, seeing his father carrying his mother out had become an essential part of his life. My wife gestured to our son to come closer and hugged him tightly. I turned my face away because I was afraid I might change my mind at this last minute. I then held her in my arms, walking from the bedroom, through the sitting room, to the hallway. Her hand surrounded my neck softly and naturally. I held her body tightly; it was just like our wedding day.

But her much lighter weight made me sad. On the last day, when I held her in my arms I could hardly move a step. Our son had gone to school. I held her tightly and said, I hadn't noticed that our life lacked intimacy.

I drove to office.... jumped out of the car swiftly without locking the door. I was afraid any delay would make me change my mind...I walked upstairs. Jane opened the door and I said to her, Sorry, Jane, I do not want the divorce anymore.

She looked at me, astonished, and then touched my forehead. Do you have a fever? She said. I moved her hand off my head. Sorry, Jane, I said, I won't divorce. My marriage life was boring probably because she and I didn't value the details of our lives, not because we didn't love each other anymore. Now I realize that since I carried her into my home on our wedding day I am supposed to hold her until death do us apart.

Jane seemed to suddenly wake up. She gave me a loud slap and then slammed the door and burst into tears. I walked downstairs and drove away.

At the floral shop on the way, I ordered a bouquet of flowers for my wife. The salesgirl asked me what to write on the card. I smiled and wrote, I'll carry you out every morning until death do us apart.

That evening I arrived home, flowers in my hands, a smile on my face, I run up stairs, only to find my wife in the bed - dead.
My wife had been fighting CANCER for months and I was so busy with Jane to even notice. She knew that she would die soon and she wanted to save me from the whatever negative reaction from our son, in case we push thru with the divorce.-- At least, in the eyes of our son--- I'm a loving husband....

The small details of your lives are what really matter in a relationship. It is not the mansion, the car, property, the money in the bank. These create an environment conducive for happiness but cannot give happiness in themselves. So find time to be your spouse's friend and do those little things for each other that build intimacy. Do have a real happy marriage!

My Bestest Friend in the Whole Wide World

I have known her her entire life (and most of mine). We weren't always close, but at some point we became the closest two friends can get.


I probably need her more than she needs me...she's smart and funny and honest and real and I wouldn't have made it through the last decade without her.


She's having a baby shower today for her first baby and I can't be there. The miles that separate us on a daily basis never seemed so far until today...



I love you, Tutti Frutti!! (And Bronco too!)

Wanna see pics of her adorable nursery and pretty pregnant belly?
The Little Peanut Gallery by Angie

Freewill Reunion

Today is bittersweet for me. I don't use that word often, but today it is the most appropriate.

Bitter because I am not with my mom, family and friends in Minnesota. Bitter because I did not get to take an additional road trip with my mom. Bitter because my BFF's baby is moving in her belly and I will probably not get to ever rub her pregnant belly. I have refrained from thinking about the bitter parts of this change in summer plans because it means there are so many people I did not see, so many things I did not do...

But oh so sweet, because in like 24 hours, I will have a beautiful reunion with my husband in Honolulu. A honeymoon. A time of rest and relaxation. A renewal of the mind, body and spirit. A uniting of two to one. I haven't written much about his absence for two reasons: 1. I am absurdly blessed as a military wife (I never want to seem like a whiny brat) and 2. It was too painful to put into words.


He left June 14th aboard the Bonhomme Richard (LHD 6) from the 32nd street pier. My mom and I chased his boat around the San Diego Baby :)


His ship then was scheduled to be in Oceanside until the 17th.

Mom, Brytin and I drove up and down the coast Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday looking for his ship...

We finally saw it Wednesday as the skies cleared. I cried tears of joy! I hadn't spoken to him since Monday around 1300 and I was losing my mind. Even though the ship was about 7 miles out to sea, even though I couldn't see him or even know for sure if it was his ship, I felt instant relief.

Anyway, all that to say that tomorrow at 8:58, I will have Honolulu in my sights. By 9:15, I will be in my husband's arms for the first time in 17 days. I know that in comparison to many military couples, I am greatly blessed to only be separated from my spouse for 17 days. Unfortunately, that fact alone doesn't make it any easier to deal with the lonely moments, the little things that are missing in his absence, the inability to know exactly how his day went...We have never been separated this long in our four years together, and never ever ever went more than 12 hours without speaking (while he was sailing to Hawaii, there was no communication - June 14th to June 24th).

I am so thankful that God has blessed me with this amazing opportunity - to see my husband, to visit Hawaii, and a time of separation that brought us unfathomably closer together.

A friend (LB) made an interesting comment today...God never tells us what choice to make (Free Will), but He always lets us know when we are making the wrong choice.

My mind is too jumbled with travel details to bring those two points together...but there is a connection...Maybe just that despite our financial situation, God provided a way for me to travel to Hawaii? Despite all that Chris and I have been through, God found it necessary to (finally) convince my husband that I am worth more than rubies (Proverbs 31:10). Despite my "best laid plans," God had better plans in mind.

Just Another Sunday

I apologize if I didn't talk to you on Mother's Day. There are a million amazing women in my life that all deserve a flower, a hug, a smile, a phone call and a diamond bracelet for Mother's Day. Unfortunately, I spent most of yesterday trying to avoid the whole dam thing...

Friday I received from Brytin the projects he made at school for Mother's Day. One was a paragraph he wrote that says, "I like my mom because she is pretty and she picks me up at school everyday."

Saturday, I was thinking about how much MORE Mother's Day means to me this year. I was thinking about all the sacrifices mothers, stepmothers, adoptive mothers, and stand-in mothers make. I was thinking about the drive and dedication it takes to be a good, effective and loving mother (and primary caregiver). I was thinking about every Mother's Day prior when I didn't really understand how important it is to celebrate the women in our lives that have impacted us, that have helped shape us, and that have made sure we had a shoulder to cry on, a friend to laugh with, and a ear to listen.

At bar closing time Saturday night, I had a wonderful moment with my husband. We were dancing, and then he looked down at me and whispered "Happy Mother's Day." I was ecstatic. He remembered! He cared! He appreciates me and all that I have done for him and his son the past year!

Unfortunately, that was the full extent of my Mother's Day celebration. And as I told my husband as he laid down to sleep Sunday night, I don't take care of Brytin for accolades, but accolades every once in a while are a really nice thing. I really had hoped to just hear my husband say, "Thank you."

No Joke

One year ago today, my husband almost died. He was cooking dinner - broiling steaks, boiling rice. He was working the overnight shift, so he was planning to eat dinner with Brytin and me and then go to sleep for a little while before going in to work...

And then he started to feel weird. He said there was a weird feeling in his chest. He tried to lay down, but that it made his chest actually hurt. He said it felt constricted, and he could only take shallow breaths.

He tried to walk it off, but then said, "I think I need to go to the hospital."

Chris, Brytin and I piled in the Escape. I used the navigation on my phone to find the nearest hospital. I did my best to reassure Brytin that his daddy was going to be fine. I did my best to encourage Chris that he really would be fine. I flew through red lights. I drove way too fast around corners until we finally arrived at the hospital over by Grossmont mall.

Unfortunately, at that time, Grossmont was doing some sort of construction and it took a really long time to find the emergency room. It was a very stressful situation. We didn't know what was going on, I couldn't cry because Brytin was with me, and Chris couldn't breathe.

It was the worst April Fool's Day of my life.

Obviously, my husband survived :D His left lung had spontaneously collapsed. Apparently, tall skinny guys are susceptible to spontaneous lung collapse. Their chest cavities are too small for their lungs and the air pressure gets off kilter and it collapses. Nothing he did caused it. There is nothing he can do to prevent it. Having it happen once doesn't necessarily mean it will happen again, but it might.

I write about this today, because it's heavy on my mind. My husband is once again working overnights this week. He's been taking the truck instead of his motorcycle, so if something were to happen, I wouldn't have a vehicle to do anything...

I know that worrying won't solve any problem, but I adore my husband so much...losing him would be the worst thing that could ever possibly happen to me.

I'm sure he'll be fine, and we'll laugh about this next week, but tonight, when he leaves for work at 11 pm, I will definitely say an extra prayer. And then I will spend the night playing Farmville to calm my nerves :)

New Year's Eve

I've always had a love-hate relationship with New Year's Eve. Yes, it is a time to celebrate, a time to gather with loved ones and reminisce, a time to set goals for the next year and dream about tomorrows...But it's never been all that in my life.

First of all, New Year's Eve always seemed like the perfect opportunity for my inner demon to point out all my failures of the past year. I would spend the whole week between Christmas and New Year's lamenting all the things I did NOT accomplish.

Second of all, New Year's Eve was my ex-husband's birthday, so for seven years, I was actually not allowed to even really celebrate New Year's. He had such a ridiculous complex about "sharing" his birthday with a holiday, that any mention of it at any point prior to midnight was met with a temper tantrum.

Third of all, since I have been with Chris, we have always had Brytin on New Year's Eve. Not necessarily because we wanted to share the holiday with him, but because we wanted him to be safe...

So here it is, the end of 2009. I'm fighting the urge to consider all the things that went wrong this year. Truthfully, looking back on it, 2009 was a remarkable year, but there were some horrible moments.

As my witty friend Susan said, "thanks to you--2009!--for all of the beautiful lessons, infinite blessings and sweet surprises you brought to me. (By the way: you can also suck it for the crappy parts, 2009...I mean really.)"

In Feb 2009, Brytin came to live with us.
In March we bought our motorcycles.
In May, I lost my job and became a full-time parent.
In August, Brytin started Kinder, and we lost Emma.
In November, I turned 31, we had our first overnighter, and we celebrated 2 years of marriage. I made my first ever Thanksgiving dinner and we hosted a super fun party.
This month, Brytin turned 5, my mom almost died, and Chris got used to working in Supply again (under a new Chief).
In 2009, Brytin started learning how to read, Chris fell in love with me, and I started getting healthy. I'd say, 2009 was a rebuilding year. A successful one.

And tonight? Well, tonight, my husband is taking me out :) Brytin will be at his mother's. Chris and I will be going to dinner and then on a yacht cruise on the San Diego Bay.

We will also be with his group of friends - James, Ko, Fox, Fox's bro and Eli. Only one missing is Martin :( This group of guys have been around the entire year. They are a good group, a fun group, and a safe group. I am glad my husband met them, glad he chose them as his friends, glad we will be ringing in 2010 with them.

2010 shows hope for being amazing. The first week, we have two events scheduled that are pretty big and will shape the whole year.

Another gem from Susan:
I am the New Year.
I am an unspoiled page in your book of time.
I am your next chance at the art of living.
I am your opportunity to practice what you have learned about life in the last twelve months.
All that you sought and didn't find is hidden in me, waiting for you to search for it again and with more determination.
All the good that you tried for and didn't achieve is mine to grant when you have fewer conflicting desires.
All that you dreamed but didn't dare to do; all that you hoped but did not will; all the faith you claimed but did not have~ these slumber lightly, waiting to be awakend by the touch of a strong purpose.
It is never too late to be the person you always dreamed you would be.

Happy New Year to you! Be safe, be merry and be loved!

Effective Communication

I wrote a blog recently about the fact that humans are frustrating. My biggest complaint is closed-minded people who refuse to respectfully dialogue.

I have recently had run-ins with people who were very unwilling to listen. Every time I shared my perspective, they closed their ears and focused on what they were going to say next. No matter what approach I took, no matter how much common ground I pointed out, no matter what I said, these closed-minded individuals did nothing but hurl insults, stonewall and repeat their same points over and over. In the end, I had to just accept that ignorance cannot be changed and chose to walk away.

It is very disappointing to have such a negative end result. The older I get, the more willing I am to listen. The more experienced I am, the more willing I am to learn from others’ experiences. The more I learn about the human condition, the more I realize how much I really do not know.

It is frustrating to me that it is impossible to explain to a know-it-all that s/he really does not know shit. It makes me sad that it is impossible to help a close-minded individual see how asinine their communication skills are. It is also frustrating that idiocy cannot be battled with logic.

As though my blog was a prayer from my lips to God’s ears, I think I have found the “cure” for other peoples’ inability to respectfully communicate. Not that I expect any of the people who bug me to actually read this, but I have at least found a solution to offer them when I have hit a brick wall.

I have been reading a very insightful book called "How to Improve Your Marriage without Talking about it,” by Pat Love and Steve Stosny. Though the book often references marriage when discussing the communication break-downs it claims to solve, all of the information is applicable to most relationships.

As I have said before in my other articles discussing this book, the background information about how males and females communicate and the principles for how to effectively dialogue in a respectful and productive manner are applicable in every conversation we have.

Each day, you might communicate with a family member, a friend, a significant other, a co-worker and/or one of your children.

Understanding where their perspectives originate from can greatly improve your ability to communicate effectively. (For more information, see How to Improve Your Communication WITHOUT Talking.)

Developing compassion for their perspective will help you to create an atmosphere that encourages productive dialogue.

Conducting yourself in a manner that is true to your values can only serve to improve your self-value and result in a willingness to value other people, too.

Developing the skill of “binocular vision” will give you an intuitive sense of how to improve your relationship without talking about it. (To learn about binocular vision, see "Effective Communication Requires Binocular Vision.")

Understanding communication and practicing the strategies offered in this book will (hopefully) encourage your co-communicator to act in kind.



Related blogs you may find interesting:
Feb 5 2007
Sept 6 2007
Apr 24 2008
Cherish

My Mother

My mom is sick. She's fought with her health for about 20 years now. It started with carpal tunnel when I was in like fifth grade. Then she had a torn ligament in her knee which turned into rheumatoid arthritis. The pain pills for the arthritis ate her stomach, so she lost about 60 percent of it. My senior year in high school, she came down with A Plasta Anemia...That's a rough sketch of her history. Some of the details are foggy, some of the specifics are ignored, and some of the memories are just too horrible to remember.

My mom and I haven't always gotten along. There were about three years where I didn't even speak one word to her, but now, today, my mom and I are super close. She helps me with marriage stuff, with life stuff, with gardening, with decorating, with cooking, and with gossiping. I love talking to her on the phone for hours at a time. I wish I lived closer so I could just go hang out with her everyday (well, maybe every other day)...

Multiple times in my life, I have thought that my mom might die from whatever is ailing her at the moment, but it never hurt as bad as today. I spent all day decorating for Christmas. I spent all day thinking about my mom and how Christmas is her favorite time of year. I thought about all the gifts she has given, about the garland we used to hang at the house on 63rd, how her nickname Mallard came about, how my dad and I would always try real hard to get along at Christmas...And then at 4pm (PST) today, when I was all done decorating and just enjoying the dusky glow of twinkle lights wrapped around garland, my dad called.

My mom had to have emergency exploratory surgery, because her insides are infected and swollen. She had surgery a few weeks ago, because some gallstones had invaded her liver and were causing it to shut down. The doctor was able to get the stones out and took out her gallbladder also. She was left with a bile bag and a couple tubes.

My mom always has complications. When she had A Plasta Anemia, only my cousin Todd's plasma helped her (we attribute it to all the Hamm's he was drinking at the time). She is allergic to a thousand different things - including whatever they used to stitch her up in her last surgery. She's allergic to silver and 14k gold and a ton of medicines...

But I love her. And it's Christmas. And I believe in miracles.

UPDATE: 7 pm (PST)
My dad just called. Mom is out of surgery. It went okay, but apparently her bile bag wasn't working properly. There is bile floating around her body...not good. They are bringing in a specialist tomorrow for another surgery.

My dad was crying...if you knew my dad, you would be surprised. He's a biker, he's an asshole, he's rough and tough, he's long-haired and tattooed. But you know what? He adores my mother.

If ever there was a reason for me to love and appreciate my stepfather, it is because for thirty years, he has adored my mother. He hasn't always shown his adoration or been able to express his feelings, but I know he loves her. I've seen it. I've heard it. I've felt it. I don't know whether or not my mom knows it, but I know it.

I realized it in like '97 or '98...I was having trouble with a boyfriend, and my dad actually was the one who helped me. I don't recall anymore what he said, but I remember that my reaction was, "Wow, you really LOVE my mom. I never realized that before." Truthfully, he would be lost without her - especially at Christmastime.

UPDATE: 8 pm (PST)
My aunt Mary Joe called (my dad's sister) to try to better explain the situation, and reassure me that everything would be fine. Gotta love MJ :)

The doctor said that when he opened mom up tonight, there was infection all over. The intent of the surgery was to try to clean up (at least some) of the infection, and hopefully be able to pinpoint the cause. None of that happened. The doctor said they are "unable to pinpoint the cause at this time." Bastard.

He explained that there are a lot of possible scenarios:
1. The bile filled up her stomach and leaked out the spot where she previously had the bleeding ulcer.
2. When they operated her on previously, they nicked something and so she was bleeding internally.
3. The allergic reaction she had to the "small amount of metal" in the sutures has gotten out of control.

Either way, the doc said they have to bring in a specialist and operate on her tomorrow. Unfortunately, that is a huge concern. She just had TWO surgeries the end of October, and another one tonight. Three surgeries in one month on a frail woman is NOT a good idea! (And I guess the doctor was saying that it might take two or three surgeries to actually fix her...) One of the reasons it took two surgeries to clean up her kidney and liver is because the ulcer/stomach surgery created so much scar tissue. Aren't they just creating MORE scar tissue every time they open her up? Plus, they were saying that her blood pressure is extremely low.

If the problem is an infection, why can't they treat it without surgery? White blood cells fight infection - can't they just inject her with hundreds of thousands of the little buggers to go in and clean up? (Like those fish that suck on the aquarium glass constantly...) Can't they pump her full of antibiotics?

Surely, the miracles of modern medicine have got to have a way to help my mother.

I cannot believe this is happening the FIRST time I ever got jazzed about Christmas since moving out of my parents house...Do you think God is trying to tell me that I should be focusing more on the Savior than Santa?

UPDATE: 9 pm (PST)
I can rest easy tonight. I got to talk to my mommy :) Thank you, Lord!!

Perseverance

A lesser-minded individual would have given up by now. A weaker soul would have caved, but she perseveres. She continues to fight for herself and for her children. She stays sober in the face of defeat, not because the courts are telling her to, but because sobriety is her choice.

In the six and a half months since that tragic night, she has gotten certified to be a personal chef and a yoga instructor. She has continued her quest for a bachelor’s degree in psychology. She has taken classes to learn co-parenting skills, communication skills and anger management skills. She has read countless books. She successfully completed a month-long stint in rehab. She has told her story to substance abuse classes. She has endured the death of her grandmother. She has lost and regained partial custody of her two children. She spends every Saturday and Sunday with them. She attends church at least three Alcoholics Anonymous meetings every week. She reads her Bible every day and prays that God’s Will would be done in her life. She attends church every Sunday and teaches her son everything she can about Jesus Christ.

For all intents and purposes, the woman has been rehabilitated. What more could she possibly do to atone for her sins? Yes, she endangered her life and her son’s. I get that. But should a woman be seen only as her mistake? Did we not learn anything from “The Scarlett Letter?”

Her readiness conference yesterday was continued until October 29th. That’s more than six weeks from now! The emotions I felt in July are even more frustrated now. The District Attorney continues to try to make an example of her – offering nothing but punishment to the full extent the law allows.

Who would gain from such a sentence? What benefit would be added to San Diego County if she served YEARS in prison for driving drunk? Her children won’t be any safer than they are now. She won’t be any more encouraged to be a productive member of society. Putting her in prison puts a drain on the taxpayers, whereas allowing her to be free to work pays taxes. She won’t have a license, she doesn’t have a car – she cannot endanger anyone’s life any more than you or me.

I understand that she has shown that when under the influence of alcohol, she is capable of making poor decisions. However, time has proven that she wants to be sober. Forever.

What good is it doing anyone to continue punishing her and possibly even punish her more?! Who is benefitting from this? Certainly not her or her children, not Chris or Richard or me are gaining anything. She cannot go off base (except for meetings), so her shopping is limited to the convenience store at the hospital. She cannot go to Bible study. She cannot pick up her mail. She cannot even take her kids to a playground.

And this is where her strength, intelligence and perseverance shine through. Sure, she gets frustrated and disappointed every time her request for liberty is denied. But every time, she accepts it and continues her journey. She does not drown her sorrows in liquor, she does not throw up her hands in surrender, she does not change her course. She trusts in the Lord’s timing and wholeheartedly believes that “all things work for the good of those who love Him.” (Romans 8:26)

I can only pray that someone somewhere will eventually see and appreciate the amazing woman she has become and allow her the opportunity to be the beacon of light that she is to a greater audience.

Emma

I got her when she was five days old,
When someone left her out in the cold.

She was so spunky.
Her meow was so funky.

Her attitude was so fractious.
She even sometimes got jealous.

She hated Channing and Mike.
But truly adored anything tuna-like.

Joey, Pumpkin and Brytin haven't said a word,
But Chris and I feel empty and awkward.

So so so soft was her fur.
She constantly required me to pet her.

She used to fat, and then got so thin.
She'll never lick my cheek again.

She is now gone, I am so sad.
At her I will never again get mad.

Associating Positive Feelings with a Negative Incident

I was molested as a child. I know that is a pretty cliché statement for an emotionally dysfunctional female, but I have a unique tale to tell. I want to share it in case someone has experienced something similar and did NOT have the wise counsel I did to help me through it.

I never told anyone. I never wrote about in my journal. I never even really acknowledged it until 2003. I had moved back to Minnesota and was horribly depressed (NOT because I was molested, but because the sun never shines in that God-forsaken place). In an effort to clear out my head, I started writing daily. One random day in December, the subject came up.

Dec 16, 2003
There were at least 10 people I was intimate with by the time I was 10 years old. Some relatives, some females, some I was perfectly comfortable with (some were not so comfortable). Why does the fact that I was molested not seem to affect me?

When I was three years old, there was a man’s touch that I enjoyed, but it only happened once. For many years, I longed for him. Why is it that I have a love for him rather than a hate? How can I not be angry with him?

Why do I have the memory? Does he? If he does, I desperately want him to know that it is okay. He did not harm me – I feel as if he actually showed me love, care, compassion. That night in his bed is a good memory.

WTF is wrong with me?! How could I write/feel something so perverse? I was THREE YEARS OLD! Am I completely psychotic? Am I supposed to talk about this with someone?

If I ever feel led to say anything to anyone, I pray that I have the opportunity to tell him that it is okay. I would never want him to carry any burden about it…

This journal writing bothered me for quite some time. I didn’t understand. The whole thing was confusing to me. I wanted to know how I could be okay with someone wronging me in the worst possible way.

Soon after, I started to see a counselor for my depression. In March of 2004, I finally told her about the molestation and asked her all my questions. Her explanation was so very helpful to me. Her words brought me so much comfort and relief. She wasn’t able to answer all of my questions, but she brought enough closure to the issue that I have never looked back.

When a person is three-years-old, we are not mentally developed enough to know that sexual touch from an older person is wrong. If there is no physical pain involved, our bodies then associate a positive feeling with the incident. Only when we are older do we associate moral opinions with the incident (but yet still carry the positive physical feeling).

Because the touch was not painful, my body associated happy thoughts with intimacy. The fact that it happened again by someone else taught me that such activity was “common” or “acceptable,” “normal,” “okay.” This deleted the possibility that I would ever tell another adult, and so the molestations continued (and realize that sometimes, I was the aggressor).

The counselor went on to explain that when I was older, say 7 or 8, that I associated moral right or wrong and emotion with each incident. I re-created the memories to include whatever mentally developed thoughts I had. By that time, the repeated actions by others had ingrained in my mind that intimacy between two people – regardless of age or gender – was okay. Thus, deleting the possibility that I would ever tattle, and increasing my desire to have such intimate interactions with people.

There is NOTHING haywire with my brain. I am NOT psychotic! I just have a very different experience than most children who are molested.

http://www.childmolestationprevention.org/

Don’t misunderstand. There are side effects to my unique story. However, the side effects, I think, are of a completely different nature than most children who are molested. The most obvious of side effects is my ridiculous sex drive – seriously, like I could have relations with my husband four times a day if he was up for it. I believe this stems from my positive feeling associated with the first incident. I also place a LOT of importance on physical intimacy - much more than I should. I have a great fear of rejection, but only in regards to physical intimacy. Even so much as if my husband doesn’t kiss me the minute he sees me, I feel rejected. I know that my issues are still issues that I need to deal with. But truthfully, I think the abandonment by my father and the emotional abuse I suffered as a child had a much more lasting effect on my psyche than the fact that I was molested.

Thankfully, my counselor back in 2004 helped me see that I am not crazy. If you have dealt with molestation, please know I am sorry. But also know that there are a plethora of avenues to get help.

http://www.darkness2light.org/



Post Secret

Possible Side Effects

One of my most favorite books is “Possible Side Effects” by Augusten Burroughs. It is a book that randomly accounts the life of a man. The story is written in first person, and I don’t think the character’s name is ever stated. This writing style results in the reader never actually knowing if the book recounts the life of the author or someone else or if it is made up. Either way, this book is HILARIOUS. It makes me laugh out loud (just as much as Stephanie Plum!). If you have not read it, I recommend it.

Another reason I love this book, is because it is exactly the kind of book I want to write. I would record all of the things I remember in my life and add in the psychological aspects, the growth aspects, the spiritual aspects. Is there a market for this? Is it self-help or fiction? Will it be the autobiography I’ve always dreamed of writing? Would it have to be in chronological order? Would anyone learn anything from the circumstances I have dealt with in my life? Which ones do I include and which ones do I keep out? Are some things too private? With my book, I think the Possible Side Effects would be pissing off people who are included in the book. Would I be able to mask the truth (to protect my relationships) and still be able to convey my message (to help the reader grow)? Do I focus on childhood, teenage or adult years? Can I get three or four or five books out of my life? (I have three blogs, why not five books?)

I have memories that start when I was less than two years old. I know the memories are from this time, because my sisters left me when I was less than two years old. I also know that the memories are mine and not implanted by someone else or a photograph, because I have never told anyone these memories.

The very first memory I have is of my two sisters and I, late at night. We should have been sleeping, but instead we were all on the top bunk. We were giggling. And then we heard a door slam and Mandy said, “Uh oh, Brian is home.” And we were all instantly scared. We cowered in the top bunk together until all was quiet and then I climbed down the ladder and went to my bed. For most of my life, I thought we were scared because Brian was mean, because he had come home drunk and we thought we would be beaten. I think I assessed the situation this way based on what I learned of him growing up. Now that I have a toddler, I realize that we were probably scared because we knew we were doing something we were not supposed to be doing – we should have been sleeping!

My next memory actually includes my biological father. The details are hazy, but I was in his apartment. I can see the layout. I met his girlfriend, Lynn. She was tall and skinny and had long dark hair. I liked her. The same memory includes Rick dropping me off at my mom’s house on Louisiana Ave in Crystal. He was holding me. He had on a hat - brown leather. He had a mustache. I was happy.

Okay, not funny like Augusten Burroughs, but entertaining none the less. “Possible Side Effects” probably sold millions of copies. My book might not sell millions. But if one person learns from it, it would be worth all of the effort.

Adam and Eve

Today, I offer you this excerpt from “Searching For God Knows What” by Donald Miller.

When Adam finished naming the animals, after all his work and effort, God put him to sleep, took a rib out of side, and fashioned a woman. I had read that part a thousand times, but I don’t think I quite realized how beautiful this moment was. Moses said the whole time Adam was naming the animals (what could have possibly taken 100 years) he couldn’t find a helpmate suitable for him. That means while he was naming cattle he was lonely, because he couldn’t really communicate in the same way with the cattle, and when he was naming fish he probably wanted to go swim in the ocean with them, but he couldn’t breathe underwater; and the entire time he could not imagine what a helpmate might look like, how a helpmate might talk, the ways in which a helpmate might think. The idea of another person had, perhaps never entered Adam’s mind. Just like a kid who grows up without a father has no idea what having a father would be like, a guy who grows up the only human would have no idea what having another human around would be like. So here was this guy who was intensely relational, needing other people and in order to cause him to appreciate the gift of companionship, God had him hang out with chimps for a hundred years. It’s quite beautiful, really. God directed Adam’s steps so that when He created Eve, Adam would have the utmost appreciation, respect, and gratitude.

I think it was smart of God because today, now that there are women all around and a guy can go on the Internet and see them naked anytime he wants, the whole species has been devalued. I read how very beautiful it was the God made Adam work for so long because there is no way, after a hundred years of being alone, looking for somebody whom you could connect with in your soul, that you would take advantage of a woman once you met one. She would be the most precious creation in all the world and you would probably wake up every morning and look at her and wonder at her beauty, or the gentle silent way she sleeps. It stands to reason if Byron, Keats, and Shelley made beauty from reflecting on their muses, having grown up around women all their lives, that even these sonnets could not capture the sensation Adam must have felt when he opened his eyes to find Eve.

You probably think I am being mushy and romantic, but the first time Moses breaks into poetry in the Bible is when Adam first meets Eve. The thing about Moses was he was the king of understatements. He could pack a million thoughts and emotions into just a few words. Here’s what he said about what Adam thought when he met Eve:
Bone of my bones
And flesh of my flesh (Genesis 2:23)
If you think about these ideas they are quite meaningful, and the bit of poetry Moses came up with truly summarizes the scene because, for the first time in his life, Adam was seeing a person who was like him, only more beautiful, and smarter in the ways of love and encouragement, and more deliberate in the ways of relationships. He must have thought to himself that she was perfect, and after a few days of just talking and getting to know each other, they must have fallen deeply in love. After Adam had taken Eve to the distant mountains where they could look down on the four rivers, and after he built for her a home and showed her the waterfalls and taught her the names of all the animals, he must have gone on a long walk with God and thank Him, and I’ll bet that was a very beautiful conversation. I’ll bet Adam felt loved by God, like he was somebody God was always trying to bless and surprise with amazing experiences, and I’ll bet they talked together about how beautiful Eve was and how wonderful it was that the two of them could know her, and I would imagine that Eve felt safe, loved, not used or gawked at, but appreciated and admired.

I know it sounds sensational, but I used to think that story was just a cartoon. But they weren’t at all; they were people and they felt all the things we might expect them to feel. And certainly a lot of this stuff really did happen to them, and certainly Adam was taken aback by Eve, surprised and amazed, and this is summed up wonderfully in Moses’ poem.

Books by Donald Miller

Shhhh…Don’t tell!

I ADORE my husband (WAY more than I should).
I do not have a college degree.
I am a Christian.
Some facts are better left as secrets.
I LOVE to play pool.
Seth David Fisher broke my heart in the 7th grade.
When my parents were out of town one weekend, I allowed some friends to borrow their motor home.
I was abandoned by my father at like 6 months old, and then rejected by him in my 20s.
I am a divorcee.
The constellations Orion and the Big Dipper remind me of significant events in my life.
I suffered from a miscarriage in January 2007.
I am hoping Brytin’s year in kindergarten will help me decide if I want to be a kindergarten teacher.
I think that I have a “chemical imbalance.”
I used to earn almost $25/hour.
My uncle lied to me one too many times.
I drink a LOT of coffee and barely any water.
I once ratted out a friend to save my own ass.
I do not WANT to quit smoking.
I slept with a married man (before I was married).
I am not at all confident.
I am a stay-at-home stepmother.
I feel as though I let a lot of people down in my short life.
My grandmother lives a few hours away from me, but I haven’t seen her in three years.
I miss Kristen Sue Stich.
I’ve been married in Vegas - twice.
I have more debts than four families should have.
I have never lived up to my potential.
I have a rage deep inside that no one has ever seen.
I am scared to death of inheriting rheumatoid arthritis.
I ride a motorcycle.
I hate only one person on this earth.
I used to snort a lot of crystal meth.
I swear too much.
I live in a manufactured home.
I had an abortion the summer before my sophomore year.
I long to be the wisest person you know.
I am really good friends with my husband’s ex-wife.
No one close to me has died (knock on wood).
I love to cook and knit and garden and read.
I wish I could do eighth grade all over again.

http://www.postsecret.com/

Redemption

I watched “Seven Pounds” last night. It was a great movie, but it could lead some people astray in understanding how we achieve redemption. Ben Thomas (Will Smith) feels responsible for the death of seven people in an automobile accident, so he spends the movie saving seven lives. And he does it. He literally saved the lives of seven people. Thus, the audience thereby is lead to feel as though he has “redeemed” himself for texting while driving and killing seven people (including his fiancée). It’s really a beautiful story of a good-hearted man who made a seven-second mistake and does everything and anything to make it right. When the movie was over, I was moved by his sacrifices, moved by his intentions, moved by his desire to “right the wrongs.” He gave his brother part of a lung, a stranger part of his kidney, bone marrow to a child, a house to an abused woman, eyes to a blind man and his heart to a woman who would have otherwise died. (He also gave something to a hockey coach, but I do not know what.) It’s a beautiful, heart-wrenching tale about a man’s personal struggle with guilt, with the debt he feels he owes society, and the internal battle regarding his own worth to live.

The movie leaves the viewer believing that sacrifice, selflessness and generosity are all that it takes to absolve our sins. Now, I realize that the movie is NOT talking about salvation (eternal life in Heaven), but often times, people will fail to differentiate the ideas of a personal struggle of a debt we feel towards society from the debt we must pay for our sins.

It almost seems unfair, really, that Ben Thomas could do so much for so many but still possibly not go to Heaven. Isaiah 64:6 tells us that our righteous “deeds are like a filthy garment”. Without the life-saving blood of Jesus Christ, God cannot even see the deeds we call righteous. Why? Because without Jesus’ redemption, our deeds are not righteous, our motives are not pure, our hearts are not clean.

Though it seems like a contradiction, God’s way is the fairest way. What if you were in Ben’s situation and didn’t have a house to give to an abused woman – would that mean you do not get to go to Heaven? Our deeds do not save us. Our good works are merely a by-product of the faith, love, and thankfulness we have in Christ Jesus. (See James 2.)

God’s way also frees us from the burden of being as “good” as humanely possible – always nice, always obeying the speed limit, always generous, kind, patient, self-controlled and joyous. It is impossible to be sinless. If that was the requirement, we would constantly feel guilty, burdened, ashamed, disappointed, sad, etc. God never wanted that! He wants us to spend eternity with Him, and therefore makes redemption ridiculously EASY. Believe. Period.

Ben's desire to help only those people who are truly "good" is the perfect example of how we as humans fail. Jesus's redemption is available to any, to all who seek Him.

In Seven Pounds, Ben gives the ultimate sacrifice – his own life – in order to give a woman his heart. Surely, that should free him from his guilt, shame, heartache, etc. The Bible tells us that only when we are free of sin through the ultimate sacrifice of Jesus Christ, can we be absolved of our guilt, shame, and heartache. Ephesians 1:7 reads “In Him, we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of His grace.”

I believe Ben Thomas found the self-fulfillment he was seeking by saving seven lives. He could not, however, erase the wrongs that were accidentally commited against the seven families of the people who were killed. Not until we look to Jesus Christ can we achieve true redemption.