My son's counselor in Maryland introduced this to us. It can be hard to implement in the moments of intense emotion, but it can be practiced. The counselor I am seeing brought it back up this past week. It makes perfect sense, but like so many things is not so easy to remember and use.
I feel statements.
I feel ignored and unimportant when you tell me you are going to come see me and then do not show up or call. It would help me if you would either not promise to be there, call and let me know if the plans change, or keep the promise and be there for me.
What I felt was anger, and that is what came out, but what I really felt was hurt, ignored, unimportant. Anger was the expression of the feelings, but not really the feeling itself. But anger is strong and scary, and elicits an equally strong and scary response, but it may not necessarily be anger, depends on the person. Maybe the person responds with silence and abandonment? Or something else. We are all different. Decoding responses is hard.
I have to try to do this more often. But expressing feelings and emotions is not easy, it makes us vulnerable.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Magnolia demolition....blog spew....
While playing softball last night, my son entertained himself by knocking the flowers out of the magnolia trees around the field. We didn't get home until after 11, but the boy slept until 10am. Anyone need magnolia demolition? I'm contracting him out, I could certainly use the rest.
Quote of the day....
Goo Goo Dolls "F*cking up takes practice, I feel I'm well rehearsed"
Pretty much sums up how I feel.
Sometimes it's easier to find a song, a poem, a quote, a lyric, a good for now person, a quick fix than it is to really know what you want and give your entire soul to get it. I'm starting to realize that once you have given your heart and soul like that, there really is no getting it back. They have to grow again from scratch, the phoenix, rising from the ashes of disaster. So where do you go? Take a step, a look, stand up, move, pick a direction, explore, nurse the new you? Where do you go, what do you do, when there are no stars, no sun, no light, no path, no sound in the pit you have fallen into? Sensory deprivation, emotional implosion.
I watched a movie the other night called "Hideous Kinky". A young English mother takes her two daughters from London to "escape" and go on a spiritual journey to Morocco. Why do we go to such lengths, take tremendous journeys, risking so much, to come face to face with what we were ignoring all along?
Something new from the raging battle....
Sister Hazel
"Where Do You Go"
Broke the ring around it
I can't think about it
I can barely start to even wrap my head around it
Waters rise around us
Sinking ships around us
I can't believe she even found a way inside to drown us
I'm not so sure anymore what's next
Or if there's anything left for us
What will we find inside of the wreck
Yeah we both know it's all just washed away
Where do you go and what do you do
All you have left is hanging on you
Where do you go and what do you do
When you lose everything you ever knew
Shine a light into it
Shoot a canon through it
Spill it all and hope you find a way to make it through it
'Cause down is up and up is down
And love lies dying all on the ground
You find a line that's in the sand and figure out who drew it
[Pre Chorus]
[Chorus]
Broke the ring around it
I can't think about it
I can barely start to even wrap my head around it
'Cause down is up and up is down
And love lies dying all on the ground
You find a line that's in the sand and figure out who drew it
[Chorus x2]
Quote of the day....
Goo Goo Dolls "F*cking up takes practice, I feel I'm well rehearsed"
Pretty much sums up how I feel.
Sometimes it's easier to find a song, a poem, a quote, a lyric, a good for now person, a quick fix than it is to really know what you want and give your entire soul to get it. I'm starting to realize that once you have given your heart and soul like that, there really is no getting it back. They have to grow again from scratch, the phoenix, rising from the ashes of disaster. So where do you go? Take a step, a look, stand up, move, pick a direction, explore, nurse the new you? Where do you go, what do you do, when there are no stars, no sun, no light, no path, no sound in the pit you have fallen into? Sensory deprivation, emotional implosion.
I watched a movie the other night called "Hideous Kinky". A young English mother takes her two daughters from London to "escape" and go on a spiritual journey to Morocco. Why do we go to such lengths, take tremendous journeys, risking so much, to come face to face with what we were ignoring all along?
Something new from the raging battle....
Sister Hazel
"Where Do You Go"
Broke the ring around it
I can't think about it
I can barely start to even wrap my head around it
Waters rise around us
Sinking ships around us
I can't believe she even found a way inside to drown us
I'm not so sure anymore what's next
Or if there's anything left for us
What will we find inside of the wreck
Yeah we both know it's all just washed away
Where do you go and what do you do
All you have left is hanging on you
Where do you go and what do you do
When you lose everything you ever knew
Shine a light into it
Shoot a canon through it
Spill it all and hope you find a way to make it through it
'Cause down is up and up is down
And love lies dying all on the ground
You find a line that's in the sand and figure out who drew it
[Pre Chorus]
[Chorus]
Broke the ring around it
I can't think about it
I can barely start to even wrap my head around it
'Cause down is up and up is down
And love lies dying all on the ground
You find a line that's in the sand and figure out who drew it
[Chorus x2]
What is below....some strange kind of post/blog/poem-a-thon...
The next several posts down are all various poems, etc, that I have written here and there. Some of them are strange, or silly, or are about people that have passed through my life. There really aren't that many. I had more, but a hard drive crash and a broken heart destroyed some of them. While I can do forensic recovery on the hard drive, the heart is a whole different matter. Well, it is late and I am blogged out. Continue reading the posts below, and warnings that accompany Vogon poetry apply....
whacky-a-thon
An FWB that went a little too far...You can tell by the poem. Again, A while back, but after the end of my marriage, now just a poem I forget I have....
The Faerie
The fates and the faerie conspired against me,
Red hair, blue eyes, a major vulnerability,
Wonderful smile, intelligent, my recent tragedy,
I’m such a pathetic target, why bother me?
My defenses are gone but I ask her out,
A knockout lunch, I’m out for the count,
Sky lights, blue shirt, her eyes steal your soul,
I’ve fallen head first into that rabbit’s hole.
A friendship, nothing more, I try to say,
She’s in my thoughts every minute, every day,
Each conversation leaves me yearning for more,
I’ve never been struck like this before.
Like Elvish Magic are her voice and her stare,
Leaving you wondering how you got there,
Dull is the noon sun compared to her laugh,
All I want is each moment to last and to last.
Maybe it was the timing that led to my doom,
Too much, too deep, too “attached”, too soon,
We talked every night, spent weekends together,
I still spend every moment dreaming of her.
The Faerie
The fates and the faerie conspired against me,
Red hair, blue eyes, a major vulnerability,
Wonderful smile, intelligent, my recent tragedy,
I’m such a pathetic target, why bother me?
My defenses are gone but I ask her out,
A knockout lunch, I’m out for the count,
Sky lights, blue shirt, her eyes steal your soul,
I’ve fallen head first into that rabbit’s hole.
A friendship, nothing more, I try to say,
She’s in my thoughts every minute, every day,
Each conversation leaves me yearning for more,
I’ve never been struck like this before.
Like Elvish Magic are her voice and her stare,
Leaving you wondering how you got there,
Dull is the noon sun compared to her laugh,
All I want is each moment to last and to last.
Maybe it was the timing that led to my doom,
Too much, too deep, too “attached”, too soon,
We talked every night, spent weekends together,
I still spend every moment dreaming of her.
Memory-a-thon
Somethings lost, most yearned for, though they can never be regained.
The hidden message
A ChInese fire kiss
A sizzLing Boardwalk moment
A hidden NOte
A blend of Voices singing hymns
Warmth sharEd on a wintery stroll
FunnY crossword moments
These are all memOries of US!
This hidden message is for yoU!
The hidden message
A ChInese fire kiss
A sizzLing Boardwalk moment
A hidden NOte
A blend of Voices singing hymns
Warmth sharEd on a wintery stroll
FunnY crossword moments
These are all memOries of US!
This hidden message is for yoU!
poem-a-thon may be more apt....
The Dots
Have you ever looked closely at a TV screen?
Up close the picture is not what it seems.
It’s a mixture of dots colored red, blue, and green
Like our lives, up close, things are not what they seem.
There is a filter over MY Picture in the frame.
Some things are covered for which I am ashamed.
Or maybe they’re shielded to make you less afraid.
The picture, through filter, just isn’t the same.
I use my own filters when looking at others lives,
Filters upon filters, they build over time,
A jumble of dots is what’s left on the outside,
Connect them together, you’ll have a vague outline.
But if it’s truly ME you want to see,
Pull away the filters to get underneath,
Willing to remove your own filters you must be,
If you want the full picture of the dots that are me.
Then connect the dots, one by one.
You will see a true picture of me has begun.
The dots are not dots but experiences in time,
Only by knowing them, can I be defined.
Have you ever looked closely at a TV screen?
Up close the picture is not what it seems.
It’s a mixture of dots colored red, blue, and green
Like our lives, up close, things are not what they seem.
There is a filter over MY Picture in the frame.
Some things are covered for which I am ashamed.
Or maybe they’re shielded to make you less afraid.
The picture, through filter, just isn’t the same.
I use my own filters when looking at others lives,
Filters upon filters, they build over time,
A jumble of dots is what’s left on the outside,
Connect them together, you’ll have a vague outline.
But if it’s truly ME you want to see,
Pull away the filters to get underneath,
Willing to remove your own filters you must be,
If you want the full picture of the dots that are me.
Then connect the dots, one by one.
You will see a true picture of me has begun.
The dots are not dots but experiences in time,
Only by knowing them, can I be defined.
Blog-a-thon continues....
The Difference
There was a change you see, in you and me,
We are not the same as we used to be,
Fifteen years since eighty-eight,
Changes wrought by choice and fate.
Possibly we were doomed from the start,
Two different people worlds apart,
But opposites attract as you know,
Eventually opposite ways they must go.
I was a brainiac, you were not,
You were religious, I was not,
Very few interests were on common ground,
Very little commonality could be found.
Friends we started out as and should have stayed,
But then there was the night I was saved,
The beginning of the merge between you and I,
But somewhere it stopped in the by and by.
I chose a different path than the one we were on,
I thought you were with me and so I moved on,
I thought we were growing closer not apart,
So when troubles came, they shredded our hearts.
I’m not the same person you married you see,
I became a new creature, with a new philosophy,
But now I’ve reverted back to the person you knew,
When we first met and all was brand new.
I’m sorry it happened, I didn’t plan it this way,
It was a culmination of our choices on the way,
We can’t change the beginning or anything since,
Our Choices and Fate have made the difference.
There was a change you see, in you and me,
We are not the same as we used to be,
Fifteen years since eighty-eight,
Changes wrought by choice and fate.
Possibly we were doomed from the start,
Two different people worlds apart,
But opposites attract as you know,
Eventually opposite ways they must go.
I was a brainiac, you were not,
You were religious, I was not,
Very few interests were on common ground,
Very little commonality could be found.
Friends we started out as and should have stayed,
But then there was the night I was saved,
The beginning of the merge between you and I,
But somewhere it stopped in the by and by.
I chose a different path than the one we were on,
I thought you were with me and so I moved on,
I thought we were growing closer not apart,
So when troubles came, they shredded our hearts.
I’m not the same person you married you see,
I became a new creature, with a new philosophy,
But now I’ve reverted back to the person you knew,
When we first met and all was brand new.
I’m sorry it happened, I didn’t plan it this way,
It was a culmination of our choices on the way,
We can’t change the beginning or anything since,
Our Choices and Fate have made the difference.
A post-a-thon....why not....
Ok,it is now 2:20 am. Another poem. Sorry, but I feel like sharing, so if you decide to read, I apologize now. The poems aren't great, but I use them to capture some emotion or thought. Some are too energetic, too expansive, or too painful to capture yet, but I'm sure everyone involved is hoping that it quits soon...
In the mean time, a poem about my son, me, and getting older.
A Reflection
A melancholy mood struck me today,
And I started reflecting on life’s journey,
I am the father of a little boy,
Whose antics are causing me to worry.
That little boy has boundless energy,
He bounces through this world in flurry,
Climbing and flipping, consequences? He doesn’t care,
He only wants to satisfy his endless curiosity.
I started thinking of another little one,
Who loved to play in rain and sun,
He climbed roofs, set fires, and walked city streets alone,
One that knew no consequences, until after the deed was done.
This little boy believed that every day was Christmas,
And that over every hill was a magic kingdom,
He looked at the clouds and imagined playing on them,
Somewhere, these little children still live within us.
Our daily battles are hard fought, and our wisdom is hard won,
The Magic of our childhood is lost, and maturity has begun,
But stop and reflect, let a child remind you,
Regardless of the consequences, don’t forget to have some fun.
In the mean time, a poem about my son, me, and getting older.
A Reflection
A melancholy mood struck me today,
And I started reflecting on life’s journey,
I am the father of a little boy,
Whose antics are causing me to worry.
That little boy has boundless energy,
He bounces through this world in flurry,
Climbing and flipping, consequences? He doesn’t care,
He only wants to satisfy his endless curiosity.
I started thinking of another little one,
Who loved to play in rain and sun,
He climbed roofs, set fires, and walked city streets alone,
One that knew no consequences, until after the deed was done.
This little boy believed that every day was Christmas,
And that over every hill was a magic kingdom,
He looked at the clouds and imagined playing on them,
Somewhere, these little children still live within us.
Our daily battles are hard fought, and our wisdom is hard won,
The Magic of our childhood is lost, and maturity has begun,
But stop and reflect, let a child remind you,
Regardless of the consequences, don’t forget to have some fun.
Another poem....
I guess I'm just feeling post-prone tonight. It is like 2:07am. An email battle of hate, and hurt, and love, deep disappointment, and desperate hope is raging. I hate it. More than anything, I just wanted a complete family to belong to, to love, to hug, to dance with, to raise, to be happy with, to be sad with....but no chance of that happening at this point, and the depressions returns with reinforcements.
Love isn't always an emotion. Sometimes it is a stick-to-it, I have your back, you have mine, we are in the fox hole getting shot at, but we are going to slog through it even though you are being a jerk right now decision. I can certainly be quite a jerk. I can also be quite awesome too.
I wrote this a few weeks after my mom died, and about six months before my wife and I separated...all in 2001.
Friends First and Forever
In the beginning your looks drew me near
But it's our friendship that keeps me here
We were not lovers but friends from the start
And it was our friendship that captured my heart
There's no other beauty in this world you can find
That can capture my heart or change my mind
I share everything with you and leave nothing out
I'll love you forever, of that there's no doubt
We've had some problems, and have often been sad
But sharing them with you I'll look back and be glad
You were there by my side in my most troubled times
And when you smile, my whole world just shines
Another day has come and another one has gone
The future is cloudy but still we move on
Forever is waiting for you and I
We'll meet it together, you're hand in mine
Love isn't always an emotion. Sometimes it is a stick-to-it, I have your back, you have mine, we are in the fox hole getting shot at, but we are going to slog through it even though you are being a jerk right now decision. I can certainly be quite a jerk. I can also be quite awesome too.
I wrote this a few weeks after my mom died, and about six months before my wife and I separated...all in 2001.
Friends First and Forever
In the beginning your looks drew me near
But it's our friendship that keeps me here
We were not lovers but friends from the start
And it was our friendship that captured my heart
There's no other beauty in this world you can find
That can capture my heart or change my mind
I share everything with you and leave nothing out
I'll love you forever, of that there's no doubt
We've had some problems, and have often been sad
But sharing them with you I'll look back and be glad
You were there by my side in my most troubled times
And when you smile, my whole world just shines
Another day has come and another one has gone
The future is cloudy but still we move on
Forever is waiting for you and I
We'll meet it together, you're hand in mine
A poem
Six years ago, when my marriage was dying, I turned to writing to try and purge the anger and the bitterness from me. I am having a harder time now. Maybe more of me had died off and there is less now to draw from? This poem was written just days before my separation. I was driving back from a week long class in Richmond. It was late October. I had the windows down and sunroof open in my truck. Sunlight had warmed and flooded my universe. My soul was happy. It was a torrent of leaves quite literally. So much so that they were practically blowing into the truck.
Traveling in Fall
It was a warm Indian summer day,
As I traveled along my lonely way,
The many splendorous autumn leaves,
Were spilling from their parent trees.
Earlier and Earlier sinks the afternoon sun,
Shadows lengthen one by one,
And the Eternal Ethereal Bell,
Of the changing seasons knells.
As I watched this, I began to think,
What have I done this day, this week,
For surely I can not go back again,
For surely one day, this all will end.
Traveling in Fall
It was a warm Indian summer day,
As I traveled along my lonely way,
The many splendorous autumn leaves,
Were spilling from their parent trees.
Earlier and Earlier sinks the afternoon sun,
Shadows lengthen one by one,
And the Eternal Ethereal Bell,
Of the changing seasons knells.
As I watched this, I began to think,
What have I done this day, this week,
For surely I can not go back again,
For surely one day, this all will end.
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