June 23...... The Stone of Compassion.

So I feel a little unsettled with how I ended my post yesterday. Grateful for loving someone sounds wrong. But the truth of it is my dad and I had a crappy life together until he showed up at my door homeless. I spent a lot of years being really, very angry at him. He was a brute, physically, verbally, emotionally. He is narcissistically  disordered. He is a man of his time and generation. He was violent and egocentric. He never gave a shit about anyone but himself really, unless there was something to gain from the other person. He is however, also a boy who survived the burning of his city, the bombing of his grandmother's house in which he lost several relatives, he was a baby who was left with his brother in a playpen for a large part of the day while mother and father went out to work, he is the brother of an alcoholic, and was the husband of one for many years. He is a man who failed at business, marriage and parenting.

Some years ago, I learned how to carry the stone of compassion. This may sound bizarre but I get it .. so I share it this way. The stone of compassion for me was a real blessing. It does not weigh what the stone of anger weighs. It really doesn't. The stone of compassion lets you grow, leaves you room to grow, to be kind to yourself. The stone of anger eats away at you, doesn't leave you any room for much else, least of all yourself.  I was able to learn how to carry the stone of compassion for my mother as well. So important to take the person in the context of their lives. Oh my God, I just had an epiphany - it makes total sense that I am the "type" of therapist I am - systemically oriented - believing and relying on the understanding of context to help people. Wow. I have been able to use compassion not as a way to forget necessarily, and I'm not even sure about forgiving - but truth be told all that isn't necessary once you carry the stone of compassion instead of the stone of anger. The two - anger and compassion - can not coexist. They can't. And yes, it is totally a choice - which stone you choose to carry.

My dad was shaped into being a prick. My mother was shaped into being an alcoholic. It could have been different but it wasn't. I choose the stone of compassion. For this, I am grateful.

and ps .. no we didn't find the wallet .. more on that tomorrow.

March 10... a little pain and honesty

I have been having a rough go of it lately. Last week, I came face to face with what I think is rage. It's a volcanic experience that begins at the upper mid area of your chest, and seems to build to a full crescendo of volatility very, very quickly. Sadly, I stuffed it back down, or let it seep out in little spurts here and there... making like I'm saving the world from a huge dam giving way. We all know this results in passive aggressiveness, and I am no fan of that. I always tell my clients, my friends and my family, be authentic, express your anger. And yet here I am, seemingly unable - unwilling - to do so.

And the anxiety, what the hell? I have never felt this stuff before. And I'm loathe to label it as menopausal stuff - and not because of my age, or of menopause itself, but isn't it so stinking trite to use menopause as an excuse? I won't. Nor am I willing to engage in a dialogue that would explain my rage. That's terrible. The times I have tired, I have not felt heard. I feel myself running into walls, this only lifting the rage and anxiety to new heights. So I say nothing. I bottle it up. And then, I guess I could have predicted this, my back gives out! Ooops, another hole in the dam!

So on to gratitude... geez. The room I have for that today is tiny indeed. Nice physio girl told me to walk today, so I did. It's beautiful out and I smiled when I saw my first Spring crocuses. They are beautiful, joyful little flowers. That place in my heart where gratitude lives, swelled ... some. And some days I guess you take what you can get. And if all I got was this tiny swelling for those tiny flowers, so be it, I'll take it.