Category: addiction

Loss and change

by Jacqueline, posted in addiction, faith, family, god, Grandchildren, grief, hope, life, loss, love, recovery, selflove, spirituality, transformation, Uncategorized

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I was talking to my son this morning about his to-do list for the day in regards to the move that his family is making in less than a week.  In the middle of all the last minute preparations his sons are processing the reality of what is happening, as their toys, clothes and home are being packed up and put into boxes. Sammy, his five year old, is feeling sad about moving. Sammy said, “Daddy I like our house and my friends and our town. I don’t want to move to Nashville”. What a heartbreaking moment for father and son, as Sammy cannot feel or imagine anything beyond the safety and familiarity of his home. The loss is too substantial to embrace the adventure that lies ahead.

Moving is not new to me, as I spent most of my childhood and adult life relocating. It is challenging and requires resilience, patience and time to adjust, make friends and feel settled once again in a place one can call “home”. One would assume that my moving history and experience would be sufficient in preparing me for my most recent move into an apartment in the middle of a popular middle-class location in Chicago. However, I feel like my grandson about this move because, it is the final step out of a 30 year marriage and the family traditions and memories we developed over three decades.  I am sad about moving. I loved my house, my town, my neighborhood and the familiarity of hosting dinners, hearing delighted voices of grandchildren as they play at Nana’s house, enjoying the position of matriarch, like the nobility of the carved oak of the living room, I loved intentionally passing on traditions to the next generation within the walls of that sturdy house. I miss my dogs. My faithful comforters and witnesses, one in heaven and the other left behind, have left a lonely place in me that no one, or thing can fill.

My to-do list, which has kept my attention for five months, has also caused me to ignore these losses along the way and unbeknownst to me they  have been waiting to be acknowledged. Finally willing to wait no longer, I am flat on my back, sick in bed, with no energy to resist and left staring at this neglected part of me, forcing me to pay attention. As I stop and see what has happened in the last five months and the last five years, it is like a release of emotion, which has been held up by a dam of acceptance of all the choices I have made. I have chosen to accept the “unmaking” of my life in order to see and know the life of freedom, love, and self-discovery. I am already benefiting from these choices in ways that are unexpected and surprising. I am making decisions everyday that honor myself and the values I hold dear. However, in this moment of time, I do not want to be resilient, patient, adjust and move on. I do not feel like looking at the possibilities and benefits of this new adventure in my life. I  just want to lie here for a bit in the rubble and experience the loss.  Yes, I know that the great unknown lies ahead but, I just need to cry for awhile. I need to tend to myself, be still, trust, rest and grieve. I need to honor what has happened for what it is. The losses are integral to the unmaking. I cannot pass by the brokenness of this life and treat them like mistakes or ignore their role in story. They have equal, if not more value than the new pathway I have found myself taking. So I say to myself, “this is good and it will pass”. I choose to be grateful for these tears and the grief as they make me a better person and are necessary for this moment and whatever lies ahead.

I already know I will need to add to my list of losses, the fact that my son, his wife and my babies are moving away from me for a short while, but I also know that they will be okay and I will be okay, in spite of it all. Ernest Hemingway’s quote comes to mind…”The world breaks everyone, and afterward some are strong in the broken places”.

 

Stucco and Gold

by Jacqueline, posted in addiction, faith, god, grief, hope, justice, life, loss, love, poetry, recovery, selflove, spirituality, transformation, Uncategorized

 

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I once heard a story about a golden Buddha statue designed in the 13th-14th century, which was covered in stucco. It was kept in that state and forgotten for almost 200 years and housed in a building with a tin roof. A new temple was built in 1955, where the Buddha was to be placed. During the move to the new location it fell hard on the ground. The fall caused the stucco to crack, revealing the hidden gold underneath. The golden statue had been covered over to prevent it from being stolen, as its worth was close to 250 million dollars. This remarkable piece is on display in a temple built for it.

The image of a stucco Buddha, is one that can be overlooked and dismissed. The texture is rough, hard and brittle and is not appealing to the eye. In this case it was used to cover and hide the priceless work of art and perhaps the spirit within. One cannot dismiss the metaphor in this historical find. How often do we walk around hidden inside our stucco, not realizing the gold underneath? Our creator crafted us from the finest material, in her image, yet there is a rough, harden exterior that conceals our beauty. The stucco of life is often layers lies, rejection, abandonment, abuse, and victimization by others; until there is no memory of the precious one. Some never “fall” or “see” what is enclosed deep within, but stay within the tin building, so fragile and weak, yet feeling safety. A few topple and fall hard. One who has fallen and cracks, fearing death, or worse exposure, discovers the truth. What lies underneath, has been there all along, the priceless, original creation;  the golden one. The journey to find this golden one requires companions who carry, support and love the hard, rough, stucco exterior until one day the golden self is on display, in all its glory.

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Come

by Jacqueline, posted in addiction, faith, god, hope, love, poetry, recovery, spirituality

broken heart

Come to the table just as you are,

addicted, grieving, broken, hopeless, traumatized, with mental illness, lonely and isolated,

come to the table.

Hearts of compassion and acceptance meet you,

Ears hear the depths of your pain,

Eyes see who you are,

Bread of community is shared and what was once hidden,

is illuminated, embraced, and gently felt.

Come to the table of love, where hope is restored and brothers and sisters bear the load.

Avoiding the process

by Jacqueline, posted in addiction, god, grief, hope, life, loss, love, poetry, recovery, selflove, spirituality, transformation, Uncategorized

Quicksand_warning

This morning I was preparing to take an online quiz from my Human Sexuality class which had a due date of 9/13/15. Being the conscientious student that I am, I double-checked last night to make sure I was correct with the date. After planning my weekend, I chose to wait until 9/13/15, to complete the quiz. I opened up the blackboard page today and noticed a “no assignments due” for today.  I opened the quiz  tab and there was “no content to display”. I obviously misinterpreted the deadline of the twenty point quiz, as it was now closed. Why didn’t I just take it the first day it opened up, or the second and third day? I wasn’t in the quiz-taking mood, I had plans with my grandchildren over the weekend, or I just plain avoided it until the last minute.

I am frustrated.

I am annoyed at myself.

I missed out on a possible, easy A in the class.

I am raising the question to myself, “how often does avoidance come up in your life?”

I have spent the last four years recovering from a traumatic life experience and am happy to say I am not where I was four years ago or even six months ago. Through the support of a loving community and my Higher Power, I am taking each day as it comes and doing the work I need to do to get healthy. That sounds so cliche’ and yet it works. My most recent task in recovery was given to me in May and I committed to complete it over the summer because, having a deadline motivates me to finish. My deadline has now passed. I am frustrated, annoyed and possibly missing out on the healing that will springboard me to the next step of freedom. So why am I avoiding it?

I have come to the conclusion, unlike a twenty point quiz, my task involves revisiting several years of life, where I became overwhelmed with terror, grief, and immense pain that I do not want to experience again. I just want to walk away and forget all of it. It’s in front of me like a dark pit of quicksand where I could drown and get lost. Willing myself to engage with this darkness, that could suck the life out of me is simply ridiculous. I am stuck. The deadline has passed. I feel alone.

Ernest Hemingway says, “The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places.” I love this quote as it reminds me that I am not alone. Everyone is broken and has walked in the dark. Life flows like that. All of us are faced with the harshness of life and deal with the aftermath of a sunami. This is unavoidable. The most helpful advice I can give myself or anyone is to “be present” to this moment, this day. Life is often turned upside down and is so uncertain and yet there is an organic flow that takes over and helps to bring grounding and to build trust in the process.

The process of healing is slow. There is an ebb and flow of light and darkness. Waves of grief come crashing into me like a sunami, often followed by the warmth of hope and love that renews my strength. The most difficult part is riding the wave. I don’t like water. I cannot swim. I am much more comfortable laying on the beach, under an umbrella with a picnic and good company. I am learning how to allow the waves and the pain that accompanies it without panicking because I know now that the sunshine from God is around the corner.

Avoiding it is one response to the harshness of loss and pain, but  if I am totally honest with myself, I know the deadline is today. One day at a time. Today I can put a toe into the dark, murky place. Today I can check in with myself and choose to step into the task at hand and step out as well. Today I can choose to trust and hope in my Higher Power and the resources that have carried me through yesterday. I can choose to avoid the quicksand today. I will make mistakes. I will miss deadlines. I will take one day at a time, loving myself and others and take the next step.

The Little Boy

by Jacqueline, posted in addiction, grief, life, loss, Uncategorized

lonely-boy

A little boy played with army men, anthills and hot wheels,

Lost his father to mental illness and mother to trauma.

A little boy was forced to become a man at a young age,

experiencing abuse and violence

within the safety of his home and mind.

In a closet he found peace, Alone.

Locking away the part of him that bore the pain,

smiling and joking his way into adulthood.

A little boy grew and let the pain disappear,

and experienced love, babies, a career and sacrifices.

The man carried himself through life, alone in the closet.

As he grew older, the boy demanded to be heard,

he was angry, sad, lonely, abused, traumatized, unseen….

he would not remain locked away.

The man soothed him and allowed no one inside this protective room.

The isolation felt familiar, but like a moth drawn to a light he was allured by its warmth,

loneliness and detachment,

Until one day he could not manage the little boy,

even though he walked toward the familiar soothing of the “light” hoping for relief,

he found instead he was swallowed up by it.

The little boy with all his suffering and pain, disappeared.