There is no fight left in her. And that’s the best thing that ever happened for her.
For far too long the futile battle of light & dark has left her exhausted. She’s accepting both light & dark as the inherent gifts of the universe. She’s not in a duelling match with them. The light no longer wishes to ‘reform’ her dark, and her dark no longer wants to ‘control’ the light. Suddenly, she’s not playing the polarity game.
She’s not fooled into buying the teaching that there’s something wrong with her that needs fixing, and she’s got work to do before she’s finally ‘good’. Her divinity is in fully embracing her humanity. All of it. So where’s the imperfection?
The myth that one day light will vanquish the dark and there will be peace would have kept her exhausted & imprisoned. She’s already at peace right now! Even the light and dark within her are sitting at peace with each other. Game over.
What she’s experiencing in the ceasing of war is an unbelievable tranquillity & peace. Thank goddess she believed in her own wisdom.
Author: Joyous Woman With Sukhvinder Sircar
The only hand I needed was my own.
10 years ago today, my husband Chris and I, stood before a judge and were granted a divorce. I stood like a strong tower before him, but in the darkness of a parking deck, I collapsed into a fit of sobs in my best friend’s arms and cried out to anyone listening: “Why?”
After adopting his son, bringing our love to life in two children and staring down my husband’s demons, this finality was incomprehensible.
Everything that happened after that was a nightmare my children and I stumbled through with faith and the support, love and prayers of our friends and family. There was A LOT of friction and unimaginable amounts of pain.
The players changed through the years but the game of broken promises and relationships remained the same. Every fall, in October, around our anniversary, I lost myself, my faith … my mind.
Last year as it happened I found myself at rock bottom, right back where I had started and dug deeper than I ever had before into myself, literally. The recovery from that place brought about acceptance and forgiveness of any and everything that was ever formed against me.
I found my way to an open and affirming tribe.
I found myself.
This past October, Chris would also find his rock bottom, the inevitable destination at the end of a very long road of self-destruction. When I received word, I fell on my face and made a fervent plea: PLEASE TAKE CHRIS HOME, let him find a peace that passes all understanding and finally remember himself.
Less than a month later, a familiar voice found me by phone, followed closely by tears, words left unsaid and an absolution I thought would never come.
In December we experienced, what our children proclaimed, a Christmas miracle, together.
I watched my children’s resilience shine. I marveled at the blessings of collateral BEAUTY.
Yeh. It’s been one of those days.
I cried. A LOT. Just bouts, or spells, of crying sporadically. Yes, like a crazy, hormonal woman. Just like that.
The first crying spell came in the car ride with my Dad to DBT this morning because it occurred to me that I had an appointment with Dr. Sue this afternoon and had no way to cover my co-pay because of the ongoing expense of DBT. That sucked.
Then I just couldn’t get it together from there. This led me to “call in reinforcements” for my emotional walls and I completely shut down and was unfocused for much of DBT. I was asked to “check-in” for the day and was evasive. I just would not. Even this small opening to utter words made the tears start again.
When getting in the car to head home with Mom, I was instantly agitated when she inquired if I “think this is working”. This being DBT. As if it were some magical wand that could be waved around and “POOF!” *all better*. Then, I snapped at the kids which made me feel horrible. So again, the tears came. I shoved headphones in my earholes and cranked some music which wasn’t meant for soothing. Obviously, that was unproductive.
Oddly, no, not oddly at all food was the rescue. Gross but instantly gratifying, McDonald’s food. (Note to self: Back to food log, do the next right thing.) I definitely don’t want that to get out of control again.
The thing that actually did help, was sharing my new slideshow and music app on the iPad with Mom and the kids. There’s something about soaking in good memories. (Side note: Mom seems more emotional lately too – this also made me snap back into emotional shape. That’s deep rooted, but not going there today.)
Talking with Dr. Sue also made me quite emotional, but it was a good conversation.
Dinner with the family at the table worked well at improving my mood, as well as working on a project together. I had the kids help me prepare a care package to my dear friend Darryl in Afghanistan. I was also to get some validation from therapist Lynn about my frustrations with DBT. Bottom line: I need to lower my expectations and just attempt to take away 1 new thing that works, for me, every session.
Here, at day’s end, I feel more at peace with the world that 12 hours ago when I was contemplating another inpatient stint. Really, its the last thing I want, well suicide would be the last I want and if it stops that, then I suppose it’s a very desirable thing when Im not feeling safe with myself.
I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but I’m happy to have gotten through another day.
As Diva pointed out with a laugh the other day, I already have a life worth living because of my amazing kids and wonderful family, I just have to learn to LIVE it from moment to moment.
I was discharged from the intensive outpatient program (IOP) today. That was a step that followed the partial hospitalization (PHP) that I entered upon leaving my admission on the psych unit.
I realize now that I haven’t done much journalizing. There really was soooooooooo much processing in PHP & IOP everyday and mostly through group therapy that I could have noted, but it was heavy and uncomfortable. They say that’s how you know it’s working. Learning to sit with your discomfort, to acknowledge it and sit with it is one of the most unhinging experiences I have had. That’s tough stuff. Sure, there were emotions, sadness that brought me to tears and anger that made me want to storm out and away … anywhere else. But I’m glad I stuck with it though and didn’t throw something at Larry. Nicknaming him LarBear in my head definitely helped me cope. SEEEEEEE? Coping. Check.
I find a mentor in mindfulness in my psych nurse, Maureen. I love Maureen. What a calming presence she is. I took so much away from her lessons about the way thoughts can control you and how you can acknowledge, identify, process and actually release them. Fang v. Wise Mind.
Wow! Just so very much.
Tomorrow, I start Dialect Behavior Therapy (DBT) which supposedly changes the way you talk to yourself regarding your thoughts. I think personally that if you can change your thoughts, you can change your world and it’s time to change my world.
Im also back in individual counseling. Lynn is someone I can respect. Im starting to identify and deal with my traumas. IT makes me feel like crying. The body reactionary things that still happen because of the traumas that El Chuba Douchebag caused … I need to deal. I don’t want him to still have any effect in my life now. That piece gets me very frustrated.
I realize now that these traumas have been resurrected because of control issues. Me losing control to the medical mishaps led to me mentally reattaching to the last place where I lost control. Unfortunately, that all revolves a very abusive relationship.
BOOM! I got this shit down.
I’m being discharged today.
There is a part of me the is obviously, very much looking forward to getting the fuck out of here and going home. I miss being in Jer’s arms. I miss my kids faces and perspectives on things. I miss my bed, fo schizzle.
Then there is a part of me that is anxious as all hell about going home.
This is a safe, controlled environment. You might surprised to know that there isn’t much that is out of control or at least unexpected (nothing is unexpected from crazy people, I guess) but I’m sick of the feeling of being out of control.
One thing’s for sure, this won’t be easy. The doctor has made my discharge contingent on my attendance and participation in the partial hospitalization program. Supposedly, its an intensive, all day program. He did give me the option of attending every other day so I can have a breath in between. (sigh)
Lord, help. Give me strength. I know I’m walking right into fire when I walk out of here. Also courage, wisdom and discernment. My kids need me now.
I definitely woke up on the wrong side of my hospital bed this morning.
I slept well, but I woke up with really bad eye pain, the all consuming kind, and it just set me off. Everything was aggravating to me… noise, people. I tend to get really ballsy when I’m irritated. I’m a lot less likely to bite my tongue. Today was no exception. Not necessarily a bad thing, but it’s pretty much fuel to everyone’s fire on a psych unit.
Most of what led me here was suppression of my thoughts, feelings and emotions. Obviously that needs to change. Can we call this progress, doc? Can I be discharged now? Although I’m not sure how everyone is going to handle that outside.
Jer has told me that I need to find my “fuck it” button and stop putting up a front for everyone, himself included. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right.
Having said that I approached the Heroin Bear (another patient) about his shit ass attitude and child like antics. As suspected, his shit had everything to do with withdrawal and not me and we moved on after a few choice words. It seems crazy in the moment, but it more people were as honest as we all are here, there’d be a lot less problems in the world.
I’m realizing more and more that if it’s uncomfortable, its working.
Also, sometimes validation and self-worth does not come from the places we want it to.