Daily Archives: June 12, 2017

First Night Back

I apologize for not being around for awhile. Things have been very busy for me, kids, work, spring things around the house, a big wedding, graduations and birthdays and everything has been crazy. But another reason is that I have been dealing a lot with some depression and a lot of anxiety. I have missed […]

We Are Broken

Its a cause for letting go
Your hand no longer fits mine
I’ve lost the sense of comfort
When you call my name
Special connection once so binding
Now severed at its core
Two persons passing
Is all that we are
Shadows in the same room
Crawling up a different wall
Laughter barely a rumble
Replies with a half smile
What we have yet to admit
Is we are broken


Sick with Dread

Dread this summer. Dread getting my kid to wake up and leave his room. Dread trying to get him to go to summer school.…

Saying Good-Bye Well

Yesterday, I said my last good-bye to Mark Stringer, the minister at First Unitarian Church of Des Moines.  He told us six months ago that he was leaving the ministry, and I’ve been grieving ever since.

It’s weird—we never had a private conversation, just exchanged a few words as I shook his hand on Sunday on my way out the door.  But in the three years that I’ve been going to First Unitarian, I’ve been able to share enough of my story with him to make a connection.

No, that’s not quite right.  I felt connected to him.

From the first service I attended, I knew this guy got it.  His sermons seemed like extensions of my therapy sessions, filled with the importance of mindfulness, compassion, acceptance, and awareness of our own realities.  He made me laugh and cry—usually at the same time.  Finally, after searching for years, I’d found a spiritual home and someone who spoke to the things that mattered to me.

PTSD makes me vulnerable to abandonment-thinking.  Bipolar disorder distorts any thinking into darker twists of hopelessness.  I knew I needed to work this through or I’d probably never go back to the church once he was gone.

So, I attended every Sunday service (once I was recovered enough from my last bronchial bomb).  I cried ( okay, sobbed) through each one of them, Kleenex box clutched tight.  I made myself look him in the eye after our hug at the door and thank him for the opportunity to do this work.  Some mornings I was too verklempt to say the words, but Mark would hold my watery gaze and say, “I understand.”

While I grieved, I also noted every friend at church who sought me out, every acquaintance who grinned when our eyes met.  I forced myself to see that FU (you gotta love a church with those initials) offered me real community and relationships beyond Mark.  I made a point of wandering around after services to find people I knew and admired in order to weave another thread into our connection.

Yesterday we held his celebratory Farewell Tour at the performing arts theater of one of the city’s high-end high schools (very lovely).  We needed room enough for the whole congregation to honor Mark’s sixteen years of service.  He came to us straight from theological school and is moving on to be the Executive Director of the Iowa ACLU.

I wept like everyone else, touched by his words and deeds (he performed the first same-sex marriage in Iowa), amazed at all he and the church had accomplished (doubled the membership and increased FU’s legislative presence on issues of justice).  But, my tears were of joy and gratitude, not grief.  I spent yesterday talking to my friends, making sure I told the speakers and the choir now much they moved me, and asking questions about the ministerial search process.  I did what I set out to do—I said good-bye well.

It might be good for me to get involved in the Search process, since who “ministers” to me is so very important.  But, I’m tucking that thought away until I learn more.  Will the various committees be able to use a bipolar member who lives an hour away and who may not be able to follow through?  Can I allow myself to be that vulnerable?  Can I get involved and accept my limitations?

It wouldn’t be an Adventure without some mystery and a little risk.

Here’s the first sermon I heard Mark deliver.  Seventeen minutes is an eternity in blogland, but it might be worth your while.

 


Went on a Trip

We went to Chattanooga, TN this weekend–went to Rock City, the TN Aquarium, and the Chattanooga Zoo for just a quick getaway.  Stopped off in Birmingham, AL for lunch and shopping and I got a pair of “Peanuts” sneakers.  I had seen them on a friend’s Facebook page and saw them in a store at the mall in Birmingham and got them.  SO much fun.

Dreamed last night that I was behind on my class, and I guess I am since I’m not started  on my papers yet.  But I will get to them this morning as best I can.  Just ordered two Victoria Moran books that I did not have since Barnes and Noble was offering  a 10% off your entire order coupon. I imagine Bob has one in his inbox as well that me and Rachel can use to go shopping for Robert and my dad for Father’s Day Sunday.

I’m still continuing with my other site http://www.46ReasonsWhyNot.wordpress.com.  I hope some of my contributors I’ve talked to come though with their lists soon.  That will make me feel good that they are able to contribute.   We will see how it goes.

Hopefully I can settle into a little bit of a routine until my middle one heads out.   Summer vacation has finally started for me now that we will be home for a while 🙂  My mood is pretty good this morning so we will see how well today goes,  Thanks so much for continuing to read.

 


10 Steps Before Ritalin

Originally posted on Good Content:
[Extracted from a talk by Dr Hein Badenhorst – http://www.adhasa.co.za] ADHD refers to Attention Deficit Disorder with or without Hyperactivity. This article gives a broad…

Silent Spring—I – The New Yorker

Read and weep.  I did, at age 9, in the year 1962.  That was when Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring was placed into my hands by my father: something to read as I recovered from one of my frequent bouts of pneumonia.  It explained why, in that year, all the robin’s eggs that I found were either broken already, rotting in their nests (I spent a lot of my childhood in trees), or crumbled under the gentle touch of my finger.

http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/1962/06/16/silent-spring-part-1?mbid=nl_Sunday%20Longreads%20(30)%20remainder&CNDID=19928113&spMailingID=11233511&spUserID=MTg4OTQzMTcxMDk5S0&spJobID=1180948948&spReportId=MTE4MDk0ODk0OAS2


“Golf Cart One”

From our friends at the Daily Kos:


No Creativity

I am feeling the urge to create. Usually I do this with painting or creating dimensions in Rift but my mind is completely blank!

My mood has been better lately, not the best today but still better than it has been in the past. I suppose my meds are working somewhat. That’s a good thing. However I am stuck in the worst possible rut and feel like saying meh every time I come up with a thought to do something. It’s annoying.

I thought maybe I could at least write but even now as I am writing the words are struggling to come out.

It’s really pissing me off.

I’m listening to music hoping it will help, it’s not doing much so far except I am enjoying some of my favorite songs so I guess that is something.

It’s so hard to describe how I am feeling, honestly I feel like I’m on the treadmill of life, it doesn’t go anywhere but at least I’m moving.

I suppose it is all better than being so depressed I can’t get out of bed and I should be grateful for the positive things that are going on in my life. I mean I’m blessed. I have a wonderful supportive husband, I got some great family and I have a gorgeous grandson that is almost a year old. Sadly I’ve never met him. I collect pictures and videos my daughter sends me though.

anyhow I apparently have nothing to write so I give up for now.