A Lot On My Mind

Last night I fell asleep thinking about therapy. This morning I woke up thinking about therapy. I've discovered more pieces to the puzzle, but I don't know where they fit yet. I got out of bed at 3:20 AM and journaled some thoughts.

Then, at 4:30 AM I got an e-mail from a friend and co-worker back home saying that the company had let three people go due to the continued mortgage situation. All three are my friends and have been for years. Sharing laughs and stories and dreams and heartache. And now they've been let go. I know that two are resilient. But that fact doesn't take away their hurt, or my hurt for them. One man is far less resilient. My heart breaks for him.

What a hard, sad day...

Christmas Eves

Last Christmas Eve after the church service I remember driving through neighborhoods with Jean and the kids looking at Christmas lights, and talking with Jean about what the upcoming year might be like – especially in Seattle. That we shouldn't kid ourselves in thinking it was going to be a romantic adventure. It was going to be hard.

And it has been hard. This Christmas Eve seemed to sum up the entire year in the span of a few hours:

Our garage doesn't have a floor drain like our house on hall street does, so there is some standing water in there from snow from the van. Jean was trying to step around the water and snagged her only winter coat on a nail. On our way to church I turn down a side street. It was icy from packed snow. The street is super narrow and there were cars packed bumper to bumper that haven't moved in two weeks – this was obvious because of the 8"-10" of snow piled on top of each car. I started sliding left and couldn't avoid taking out a mirror on a Prius that had been sitting there for a week. I left a note with my name and number on the person's door handle. (who knows which house the car belonged to...) Considering how long the car had been sitting there and the rain we are going to get, the note may just bleed from water and be unreadable. But, I wanted to be honest and not be a jerk that simply hit and ran. Church was sweet. They did the service around a chant of O Come O Come Emanuel, with chants by the choir, singing, scripture reading, a message from the pastor, etc. It was very good for our hearts. Then, I got the van stuck in front of the mail box when we got home. I got out and attempted to push while jean tried backing out. Mud was thrown all over me. It was awesome. I couldn't budge it. I got back in the van, determined to get it out. I did. We got inside and Jean prepared a fantastic smorgasbord – a tradition her parents gave to her. The meal was great, and talked non-stop through Polar Express – another family tradition of ours. the kids were wound for Christmas.

The evening wasn't romantic in an "everything is easy way," yet, it was romantic in an "our family loves and enjoys each other."

Christmas

The other day I was going through some old family pictures and I came across this gem snapped Christmas morning, 1971, in our basement duplex. I was just one month shy of being 2 years old.

From Amnesia to Brain Surgery

This morning I wanted to vomit. It was more of a burning in my stomach. I was doubled over in the shower. Those were things that used to happen when I was little. When I didn't want to do something or go somewhere. I missed a lot of school. I've been remembering a lot. And, remembering makes me feel sick. I wasn't feeling sick because today was therapy. I look forward to it and I enjoy therapy. And, I mostly enjoy therapy because I want to be closer to better. Even if getting better looks and feels like I'm getting worse for a while. I was sick this morning because of remembering.

I've been finishing "It's Not About the Bike." I had to put it down when fall term started. When I picked it again I came to a part where Lance is riding the tour. How vomiting for 24 hours straight over 5 day periods due to the chemo treatments, and so much of that time, prepared him to win The Tour. I've been hoping that feeling the pain and nausea I feel now will pay off for something down the road. Realistically it may, and it may not.

Today's therapy was good. And interesting. So much happened. At the end of it all, I was asked if I would be open to switching gears in our sessions together. Going from "relational therapy" to "Lifespan Integration Therapy." Basically, we are needing to re-hardwire my brain. It is such an intense process, that we can only go about it every other session. My therapist has received advance training in Lifespan Integration.

The Lifespan Integration website doesn't mention all of the routine, but before my first "LI" session, I will need to write down a memory from each year of my life. And, each memory for each year will be read, and it will be cycled three times total in our session. All to rewire my brain to realize and understand what safety as an adult is.

I am intrigued by it. And hopeful. I don't want a shortcut. But, I do want to feel and to know healthy boundaries and I want to remember. Next week, due to Christmas, therapy has been moved up to Tuesay evening. So, LI will either begin next week or on Thursday Jan. 8.

Amnesia

The first trimester is over. Reams and reams of paper used for printing readings, assignments and essays. Books upon books read. Whew. What a blur.

So many people from back home called, e-mailed, and instant messaged me over the term to encourage me. I'm sure I'll miss someone, but thanks Adeana, Amanda, Angie, Ann, Anne, Brandon T., Brian M., Brian VM, Chris, Chuck, Darrell W., David B., Deneè, Gary, Howard, Hunter, Johnny, Jon M., Kelly, Kevin, Roger, Steve, Terry, and Tim. I feel like me being at MHGS has been as much of a fulfillment of your dreams as mine. Thanks for your encouragement for me to hang in there.

And, so many new friends out here have encouraged me to live from my story. Not to try and be someone else. But to celebrate my neuroses and lean into my oddities. To mourn the tragedies and cruelties. Thanks to Scott and Scott, Jason, Philip, Julie and Julie, Rick, Grant, Anita, Claire, Lisa, Eron, Shannon, Paul, and David. And, especially Bruce who I traveled back from classes with and we shared stories of joy and pain. Thanks!

Most of all, thanks to Jean, Sam and Alina for making me study and for making me play. And for loving me through the demands of the trimester. You have each loved me as I wrestled through the deconstructive readings and classes that have peeled layer after layer off my onion all the way down to the pain that was hidden underneath. You are the greatest!

And, now that it is rest time from studying, I still have important work to do. Over the last half of the term I have started to remember little things. Very painfully tragic events. Some brought on from readings, others from just being forced to sit in one place. Most of my life I haven't remembered. I have kept moving and it has prevented me from recalling. I had developed amnesia about nearly every memory.

Over break I have blocked out time to look at photographs in order to recall cruelty, abandonment, seduction, human sacrifice, and repeated abuse. The recall of these memories aren't so that I can continue to sit in the despair of the past. It is so that the past can be reauthored, as Dr. Allender says. Reauthored for the future's hope. Last Thursday after counseling I went for a walk in the woods. I asked God to begin to help me remember some events. He began to. The events being recalled were so hurtful that they were overwhelming. God was gracious enough to turn the memories back off for the time being. I know those memories are just the tip of the iceberg for what is deep below the surface of the dark waters.

I am very pleased with the relationship I have developed with my therapist here. A therapist who is a graduate of MHGS. A therapist who understands the deconstruction process of the school. And, most of all, one who desires to help me remember so that those repeated tragedies can be redeemed for good.