Tag Archives: spirituality

A Hard Life to Love

The Webster’s Dictionary definition for Hard is: “Not easily yielding to pressure.”

Hmmm. I think I want to be hard. Harder then ever before. I won’t yield to what you think I am. I won’t yield to what you think I can or can’t be—or can or can’t achieve. I won’t believe what you have said about me. I won’t act small so you can feel better. I won’t brag or boast either, on my way to living my best life. My best life is not your best life. I don’t claim to know what yours is. Just as I don’t claim to know you, like you claim to know and define me. That is your problem. My problem is taking baby steps and not running toward my purpose. My problem is tackling more than most do every day of my life without any support. But that is my problem, not yours. You are overly supported and demand and expect more. You are not grateful for all the support you get, yet judge and blame others easily. But I love you anyway. I don’t ask you to listen. I don’t ask you to understand or God forbid approve. I don’t ask you to help me. I don’t accept your rules or your small viewpoint of life or what it, or mine, should look like.

But what I know is that only when I fail, and prove your assessment of me right, is it OK. Only when I fail and get defeated do you love me, accept me and therefore, accept yourself. Because it was always about you anyway, wasn’t it? And your actions and choices show your inability to love yourself. Not my ability to be lovable or loving.

So I am free now. I am free to just do what I need to do to live my best life because you will never be happy for me, no matter what I do, or don’t do—no matter what I ‘achieve’ or don’t achieve. So, I am harder now than ever. I do not bend or stumble or stall or break under the pressure of trying to be loved by you—or anyone else like you, who is blinded by addictions, and refusing to do any real soul work. I will not feel bad about myself because you choose not to show your love, or ever visit, or give attention or be kind. It isn’t worth it. And it reflects your armor, your defensiveness—not my soul, not my worth. How could a shy little girl, who couldn’t talk until she was eleven, deserve a belt buckle whipping? Or her favorite tortoise shell hair brush beaten over and over on her back? How could a tiny child deserve welts, or bruises? No one does.

No. You are never to be seen again. Nor do you define my essence. I am stronger than you ever will be. I can look into the mirror and smile for how strong, how hard I have become.

I will love you in a way you never understood. I will just love you, accept you for exactly who you are, no matter what, and no matter what you did—or didn’t do—or said, or don’t say. My love is unconditional and just is. My heart is open, forgiving, yet strong and very, very hard now. I am independent. You have never been. I will follow my purpose without asking anyone else to sacrifice, as you did to achieve yours. And if you don’t like my strength, remember that you almost killed me. So I had a choice to make didn’t I?

It is OK now in my heart. I know you didn’t mean the horrible words, the vicious drunken attacks. You used to be my excuse for being broken. You were my excuse for thinking I was unlovable and allowing others in who were like you. But I am free now. None of it was personal. You are broken. And I am miraculously filled with light from a loving Source who taught me that I chose this life to survive it, to grow from it, to love insanely despite it, and to embrace my art because of it. So, I laugh more. I need less. I ironically trust more. And I am very far away from you.

You only love conditionally and if you are needed. So you break people so they will be broken enough not to leave you, so they will need you.

The secret is, I have never needed you. I have been on my own since I was born. And that is the truth. I have never needed your kind of love. I don’t need abuse. I don’t need criticism. I don’t need anger or violence. I don’t need you. I don’t need your manipulation, control or approval. I don’t need the self-loathing, or bravado, or self-pity, or guilt trips, from a self, self self viewpoint that surrounds you like a force field. But I am no longer affected by you or what you did. It wasn’t about me. It was always, always about you. I have only seen you once in 10 years and I will never see you again. Ever. Not until we leave Earth. That is the choice of my loving, yet hard heart, that is protective and sets boundaries.

But I will always love you. And you may not understand that kind of love until you cross over. But then you will. And you will see. And you will feel my love for you. It is there. It always was.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Advertisements

Time to Rock the Boat

 

rocktheboat

 

I took this picture when on a sail boat in Mexico this summer. The water got a little choppy. The guys in charge were a little tipsy. I had a choice to make: get stressed out and fearful, or relax, trust and snap pictures of an amazing sunset. Thank God I was able to do the later. What a sunset! 🙂

With that said, there are definitely times in my life when I need to rock my own boat a little. Not stir the waters and create unnecessary drama, but to say how I feel in the moment and acknowledge when someone is hurting me and let them know how I’m feeling honestly. Too many times in my life, I find my metaphorical boat, my life, affected by someone else’s choices and I remain quiet, or act as if everything is OK or not a big deal, for fear that I’ll lose that person. And sure enough, the Universe keeps sending me friends who do just that: leave when I finally muster up the courage to say that something’s bothering me. So I’ve been letting a lot of people I care about go. But givers attract takers, so when a relationship is established firmly with one person always giving and not rocking the boat, the minute she stops giving and calls the other person’s behavior into question, it just isn’t tolerated. Read my article: Giving To Yourself This Holiday Season to see if you are an over-giver.

How often have I swallowed my own feelings in order to have smooth sailing within relationships? But relationships are for growth. They are not for one person to give to another and never get angry when taken advantage of or lied to. To always stay easy going, even when when being treated insensitively, is not a good trait. That is the behavior of someone with little self worth or a lot of fear of abandonment.

I know this now. And it’s been a hard and wonderful year. I’ve let go of two dear friends I love. It was sort of easy. When I was honest about how I felt, about the imbalance in the relationship, about lies, about toxic behavior and manipulation, both people exploded (how dare I not be there for them always, no matter what, and how dare I call their behavior into question!) and then ended the friendships. They did what I would never do. Another soul I’ve loved I let go. When I could see that I was giving too much and hoping for oranges when this person would only ever give me lemons, I said I needed to let go. I miss this person, but it just wasn’t meant to be or else he’d have stepped up by now. Letting go can be a kind and compassionate choice as it allows the Universe to send in someone available and loving and emotionally secure enough to talk about feelings and be supportive.

 

It’s a learning curve. After my mother died in late May, I was reminded during the funeral just how much she gave to everyone in her life. Giving is a good thing, don’t get me wrong. She was a social worker and a loved volunteer and wonderful mother. I miss her dearly. But she never really got angry at her husband, even through all the drinking, lies and affairs. I don’t really think she thought she deserved that experience, but she was from another generation. Plus, southern women were taught to smile and act like everything is ok. Ever hear Miranda Lambert’s song Mama’s Broken Heart?

I can SO relate to this song! The line: “My mama came from a softer generation, where you get a grip, and you bite your lip, just to save a little face.”

I think I internalized that a lot. Maybe it’s why I’ve attracted men who cheated, lied, or were just emotionally unavailable to me? The Universe has a way of mirroring our beliefs. My experience in childhood defined my reality. Until Now.

Back then I couldn’t love a healthy person because I felt more at home with someone unhealthy: what I knew and grew up with. If a child grows up with a father who drinks too much, makes fun of his wife, belittles her, and then is abusive in other ways within the family—and it is NOT tolerated to ever confront or talk about feelings without getting hurt or ignored—this child will have more of a comfort level for this sort of behavior and will internalize it and basically take more shit from others.

Until I dealt with it, let it go, and dropped the belief that speaking my mind would leave me abandoned or hurt, I kept attracting those who did just that, ironically, reinforcing that belief.

This I now know for sure (I feel it on a cellular level) if I want to attract love, understanding, respect and compassion from others, I have to give that to myself first and know that I deserve it. Saying no to someone who keeps asking or who keeps taking without giving,  is saying yes to me. Those who take advantage or don’t reciprocate, I need to let go of, and allow their energy to drift away from my life so I can create balance. To give AND receive is necessary for our chi, our life force, to remain vibrant.

This year has been eye-opening for me. I have more clarity, understanding and awareness than ever before. Memories have come back through intensive yoga and meditation. Insight that I could never have had has come through the sharing with friends and other beautiful souls who are now close dear friends, some I’m working with at New Kind of Rebel. (check them out!)

We are all on a journey. We are eternal and chose this journey. Yup. Those who have hurt me the most I chose. They are my teachers and before coming into this lifetime, loved me so much they signed up to hurt me and help wake me up. My evolution has been dependent on them in many ways. That’s my belief. And it keeps me loving those in my life, even if from a distance, to remain healthy. I have so much love for my journey and for yours. I have so much more peace once I can detach a little from it too, and know that my eternal soul, the light that existed before this body, and will after this body is gone, is evolving and growing. Those who have helped me to grow, I give thanks to. I pray with all my heart that those who are suffering can find this sort of compassionate detachment, through meditation and prayer, to see the light and love that is available to them and within them.

Thanks, as always, for reading my meandering prose.

With so much love,

Laura xo

 

Lessons from a Frustrating Day

NLeditedheart

photo by @rickylesser

When everything goes wrong, God is still Good.

God is indifferent, but not uncaring.

The dolphins still play, the sun still sets, the stars still shine, even if I can not see them.

There are trails to hike, trees to climb, clouds to dream under, even if I can not find the time.

When someone steals from me, God is still Good.

If fires rage, God did not cause them.

If he never calls again, God is not to blame. And I am still enough.

We are all in this together. The one who steals from me, the one who abandons me, and the ones who lift my spirits. We are all God’s children. We are all each others teachers.

When everything goes wrong, God is still Good.

There is much to learn. How did I respond when I didn’t get my way? How did I shake or tremble or shut down by another’s hurtful behavior or frightening choices? Did I stay graceful when speaking my truth?  Can I find gratitude or a lesson within what feels like a never-ending chaos of activity and whirlwind of needs to be met? Did I pause at the end of the day and reflect with kindness? Can I still embrace forgiveness? Can you?

I have much to learn. I am grateful to be able to keep going. It is a miracle I can fall asleep knowing that no matter what happens to me, or to you, God is still Good. Love is still alive. I detach and focus on Love.

Season to be ‘Kindful’

photo-77

My five-year-old son yelled for me to come upstairs this morning yet again. He was really excited while listening to the “ta dum da dum dum” Christmas song.

“Hurry, mommy! You’re going to miss it!”

So, I stopped brushing my teeth and slowly climbed the stairs back up to the den for the third time that morning. Every time I tried to get ready for the day, he’d yell for me to come back up. He’s beside himself about Christmas this year.

“Do you know what Christmas is really about, mommy?” he asked with an infectious smile. Since he’s going to a Catholic preschool, I answered, “The baby Jesus?”

“Nope. Well, maybe. But that’s not really it. Know it?” His eyes widened and he had this ‘I one-upped you’ look on his face. “Hmmm, what is it about?” I answered.

“Well, it’s not about the presents and stuff. It’s kindful. You know, being kindful.”

I just love that. All my aggravation about our slow-moving morning faded as I kissed his forehead and thought about his new word. James has inherited my inclination to create words. My whole childhood was filled with merged words or dyslectic sayings that only I or one of my sisters could understand. But isn’t ‘kindful’ just wonderful? To me, it’s kindness married with being mindful and joyful at the same time.

And it’s such a good reminder for me right now, too. (My best teachers always surprise me.) It’s only December 2nd and I’m already finding myself stressed with an over-stretched schedule. There are at least five violin concerts, soccer practices, games and parties for me and both boys. There are Christmas travel plans to be made, (or not) and of course the biggies for me: my final two weeks of yoga teacher training and the book I’m writing. Phew—The book I’m writing—When do I find the time to squeeze in a bit more work on the sixth chapter? My most emotionally draining and engaging chapter so far. Dropping in feels like landing on the moon and after an hour or so of writing, I feel dazed and unfocussed on immediate needs and scheduling, as I think on heavy topics and characters filled with angst.

So…as I typically ramble on before getting to a proper point… I’d like to encourage all of us to take moments out of each day this month to be kindful. We can only do so much. I, especially, need to be kindful to myself. I’ve been through a lot lately. And, like many of you, I may not get as much done as I’d like. But if I can be kind, mindful and listen to my children, maybe throw in a few giggles, that will infinitely mean more to them than having the perfectly decorated house or perfectly orchestrated holiday. Right?

Isn’t it amazing that my five-year-old has become such an insightful teacher for me? What if I had stayed focussed on not being late for preschool and refused to go upstairs this morning? Think of what I would have lost. Later this morning, as I was getting James dressed, he looked at me squarely in the eye and asked, “Ok, who are you?” I answered my little buddhist boy by saying: “I’m your mommy filled with love.” Since he’s entered the age of being afraid of transforming monsters, I knew where this was coming from. He asked again, “Really, that’s who you are?”

And as I answered him again, that I was his mommy filled with love, I realized that in each moment I have the opportunity to answer him and my older son, by my actions. Each time I yell, or refuse to listen, or get frustrated and snap while in the car, I’ll be telling them that I’m a different version. So, it’s my time to stop, breathe and be the version of me they deserve.

You know, sometimes when we stop, breathe and stay in the moment—even if it means being late for an appointment—we open ourselves up to possible moments of joy and insight, that may stay with us a lifetime.

I may not write again in this blog before the holidays, as I’m working feverishly on my book Uriel’s Mask. So, I’ll take this moment to wish all of you ‘kindful’ moments. Next time you’re stuck in aggressive or slow-moving traffic, rushing to a party or an appointment, or frantically shopping, I hope you think of this post. Take a breath (like I will be doing) and think about the big picture. What sort of moments are you cultivating? Are your children in the back seat? Are they listening? Are you listening to them? What really matters in the end? Is it all of the presents under the tree? Or is it our presence? Is it what money can buy? Is it what neighbors think? Is it trying to meet expectations that others or family have set for you? Or is it trailing your own, mindful path?

Here’s hoping that we all take babysteps toward kindfulness this season.

Happy Holidays! x

Flash Flood

SAMSUNG

2013 will be the year my mother stops talking completely. Tonight I googled ‘grief’ and found this post. It’s comforting, in a strange way, to step back and look at how much happens in a period of time, such as 500 days. Destruction and death and sorrow are inevitably (and hopefully) entwined with new beginnings and soul awakening growth and grateful moments. It’s hard to describe how that works.

Tonight I miss mom.  I rarely talk about her to anyone. I don’t know why. It wasn’t that long ago that we spoke every week. But that’s life, isn’t it?

Tonight I found myself crying. An old song mom loved to play on the piano came on a TV show. And before I knew it, tears were trickling down my face. Grief is like that. People say it comes in waves. That may be. But mine comes like a flash flood. Or a tsunami. One minute I’m moving along, as usual. I may be having an ordinary, yet, nice day. Then I’ll hear a song.

Oh how I’d love to call her to tell her my divorce is final. That I’m writing fiction again (baby steps.) That my boys are rambunctious as ever. That I’m actually doing this parenting gig on my own somehow.

A year ago, I wrote several posts honoring my mom for mother’s day. It empowered me. As silly as that sounds. I felt like I was preserving her. I was honoring who she was. When you lose a person to Alzheimer’s, it’s a confusing death. With mom, she began the steady decline last year. She can now barely talk.  My last visit, 7 months ago, she eeked out “love” and leaned her head to mine. That was a goodbye that I will always be grateful for. Nevermind, that a few minutes later, she looked at me like I was a stranger. The day before, when I popped a small piece of dark chocolate and raspberry bar into her mouth, (her favorite) her eyes widened and she grabbed my hand saying, “I think I like you!”

Tonight, I long to talk to her so much it aches.

Tomorrow, I’ll get up, in this city of sun and eternal youth, and begin again.