24. So Much More than Me

"What do you see, on the horizon?
Why do the white gulls call?
Across the sea, a pale moon rises
Your ship has come to carry you home..."
~Annie Lennox

What a crazy time. Dad has constant needs that demand near full-time care, and my darling mom, his care-giver, is down herself. She had major surgery on February 18th, and seven days later, on the day she was due to be discharged from the hospital she developed severe complications and was rushed into more surgery. She finally did come home March 1st, and her dear sister flew up help with the transition and initial care she will require. On top of that, daughter Kimi had painful rotator cuff surgery and is moderately disabled herself, depending on me alone to drive her everywhere. We're hoping she'll be able to start driving a car this weekend.

This morning Aunt Kathleen left to go back home to Sacramento and I have to say, things are sure different here at the house. There is no doubt in my mind that God has placed me here for two purposes: one, to take care of my folks and two, to focus my ongoing emotional pain and anguish on something more positive. Taking care of two adults with full time medical needs is more than a full time job, and it keeps my mind too busy to miss my old life in Olympia.

Today the sun was out, the weather was warm, and the cherry trees are in full peak bloom. It was a beautiful day; thank You, Creator! Thank You also, for the blessing of two wonderful sisters: Dad's sister Janet, to whom we were able to send him during Mom's initial surgery, and Mom's sister Kathleen, aka Sissy, who dropped everything when I called and asked her to fly up and help out. I love you gals!

23. Valentine's Day

"I've heard there was a secret chord

that David played, and it pleased the Lord

but, you don't really care for music, do ya?

It goes like this: a fourth, a fifth,

a minor fall--a major lift

the baffled king composing Hallelujah!"

-Leonard Cohen

Mr. Cohen's famous song was performed yesterday at the opening ceremony for the 2010 Olympics, by one of my favorite singers of all time, KD Lange. Her rendition of the incredible song was one of the most profoundly moving performances that I've ever seen or heard in my lifetime. The performance immediately went up for sale on iTunes and I bought it--it's been haunting me all night and all day today. When I listen to it I get goosebumps, and tears come to my eyes! It's absolutely moving.


Today is Valentine's Day. I think it's really cool that this song is at the forefront of my thoughts, because really the story of David is one of the most compelling love stories in the entire Bible. I feel close to this king. His ups and downs have been an integral part of my own healing process; I've drawn a lot of strength from his experiences. His weaknesses. His humanness.

Today I slept in and decided not to even get dressed. Because I can! Last night went to the mall and bought myself some much-needed shoes and make-up. What an incredible difference my solo journey around the mall was from the one in Spokane three months ago. I had a smile on my face; enjoyed seeing people, got some exercise--and not even the Valentine stuff everywhere bothered me. Thank You, God, for bringing me such a long way!


I'm enjoying listening to music, burning some new CDs, and just relaxing. Have decided that beginning tomorrow, Monday, I'm going to set my alarm for 0700 every day and haul my ass out of bed. I'll make some coffee, do my Bible study, check my email and be doing some sort of exercise by 8 every day, either walking, riding mom's bike, or just stretching and doing some yoga.


Started seeing a medical doctor, a psychiatrist last week.  Dr. J -- my new best friend. He will be tapering me off my anti-depressant Prozac, which I've been taking for years. He believes it is contributing to wild mood swings, which he says I do NOT have to put up with. Wow. Is that what my big crashing dark waves are? I really, really like this doctor. We connected well and he called me 'trace' which is something I love after meeting a person for the first time. Since childhood that has been an odd little thing that puts me at ease with strangers.


He also wants me to take a very, very small dose of xanax every day for a while. I think it will be during my prozac withdrawl period? The dose is small enough to be calming but not make me sleepy; one-sixth of a mg per day. Better get a pill cutter, those are some tiny chunks!  I have no reason to hide anything I learn from my psychiatrist, and will update this journal after every visit. I'm going to continue my telephone sessions with Gayle also, and look forward to one this Tuesday.


Dr. J told me he believes I have some fairly impressive obsessive tendencies and we'll explore that further in future visits. Like the memory boxes of little things I stubbornly hold on to from my childhood as well as both my girls' childhood; Dr. J believes I'm 'hoarding' my memories of life with Rob. (He didn't use that term). In spite of the fact that I was treated very poorly by him, I allow the good memories to arise and take over, and keep those securely in my head because that's as close to physically touching, seeing, and smelling Rob I can get: there is no memory box full of trinkets to represent smiles, words, and times together. So, my brain creates 'it's own form of trinket' in vivid memories. Makes a lot of sense to me. As soon as we get my mood swings leveled out we'll look at letting go of my peculiar 'memory box'.

22. Another Corner... the Start of Goodbye

"A primary feeling response to a loss is fear. 'How will I get along without him/her?' Anger is one of the most common ways we express our fear. Our society taught us to be afraid of our sad feelings. It also taught us to be afraid of being afraid."
~John James, Grief Recovery Institute

Last night I got another present from Above: from my fabulous book When the Vow Breaks by Warren Kniskern, a sample letter to a dumping spouse, letting go and saying goodbye.

Mr. Kniskern's words were so true, so right ON, and so inspirational. After having read this 'letter' half a dozen times I am girding up to finally prepare to let go of Rob, cut ties with him permanently, and move ahead with my life.

I spoke to Rob six days ago, when he called me looking for W2 forms. Although he (once again) promised to call again later, he did not. It is no surprise. Kniskern's letter forced me to ask myself: why do I allow myself to be set up for disappointment over and over by this man? Is it not obvious to me that he wants nothing to do with me... that he has bailed out of his commitment to me and is not coming back? That I'm never going to see my home again? Am I this thick-headed?

The memories can now go to hell. I want nothing to do with them. Once bright and fun, they now serve only to attack me and bring me down. I will not allow it any longer; I'm releasing them ALL, along with Rob. When this is over I want nothing to do with him, do not ever want to see him again. I will do everything in my power to erase him from my memory. He will be dead to me, that's how it must be for me to get healthy. I do not want to be friends with him.

Now I know I must forgo school and get work right away, cannot be without health insurance. Once that is secured I intend to file divorce papers and tell Rob goodbye. I will no longer allow him to have the power over me to make me feel depressed, disappointed, anguished. He walked away from our marriage; I loved him more than life. He chose to leave and be on his own; I was deliriously happy with him and wanted to be his wife until time's end. He made his bed... I'm simply honoring his desire to end this relationship.

One last thing about author Kniskern. When I started reading his book a couple of months ago I thought his unwanted divorce had come after 15 or 20 years of marriage. I knew that he had been the unwilling spouse; the non-initiator he calls it, but I did not learn until last night, after I read his sample goodbye to you letter that his divorce circumstances were actually a lot like mine in two areas: one, he was only married five years. Rob and I were together five years.

Two, his spouse completely took him by surprise with her demand for a divorce. Like Rob, she had only days before confirmed her love to her spouse. Her affirmation had been in the form of a sweet card; mine was in the form of a delightful weekend together, capped off with an intimate bonfire in the woods.

Regardless of how, both of our relatively new spouses projected absolute happiness just days prior to their proclamation of independence. Mr. Kniskern and I were each thrown to the ground; gut-kicked by our spouse of only a few years, each of whom had recently expressed profound happiness in the marriage. This realization helped me hone in on the wisdom and insight Kniskern provides in his book, pushing me to put aside my silly schoolgirl antics of calling Rob and waiting by the phone for him to call back; to start thinking seriously about my SELF, the unspeakable trauma that that SELF has been through, and how the time has come to start treating that SELF with some respect and dignity.

Again, the memories I have with Robby will hopefully be severed soon, and they can go straight to hell. As for Rob himself, I pray for his relationships, with God, with family, and frankly, with himself (because soon that's all he'll have left, until the next unsuspecting woman with her head in the clouds comes along, admiring his white engineer's hat and his big house in the woods).

Good bye to YOU, Rob.

22. Back in the 'couve

Two days ago I arrived in Vancouver, to stay semi-permanently with mom and dad. It's funny, I sit here now sometimes and think about how I've come full circle; here I am, right back where I started five years ago when I met Rob. I sleep in my old room.

Rebound clinic is trying to figure out what made my rotator cuff tear. Yesterday's visit revealed almost no calcific crystals, which was truly amazing to me. The pain and loss of ROM is from an actual tear this time. MRI tomorrow night, then the surgeon will determine if he can help me at all. He is from the school of no-narcs; he rolled his eyes over my pain management protocol. I love that, these surgeons have all the answers: you're in pain? hell just deal with it, what's wrong with you, blah blah. He also silently scoffed when I told him about trying to deal with these joint problems with diet restrictions and supplements. They mock. They know it all. They know YOU, and YOU must be a liar/pansy/addict/hyperchondriac. Just once I'd like to meet a surgeon who has himself had joint pain that keeps him from using a limb.

On another road, the whole CNA thing is starting to give me a headache. I'm having second thoughts, and am considering a Medical Assistant class instead. But then again, Kimi talked to me the other day about following my PASSIONS in life, and none of those are tied to the medical field. My passions are photography, graphic arts, singing, and ministering to other broken-hearted women someday. I'd also like to write a novel, the theme of which has been floating around in my head for years.

I really believe, though, that before I can get serious about following ANY dream or career, I really need to get my act together emotionally, and get my freaking ADD brain on track. Just tonight I took inventory on how many things I am in the middle of and have no time set in which to finish: As of right now I'm smack in the middle of When the Vow Breaks, Meeting God at a Dead End, The Bible, Change Your Brain Change Your Life audio, three different entries to this blog, and several advanced photoshop tutorials. On top of all that I'm investigating which CLASS to start taking (class! seriously?) and managing my ever-present -but-slowly-diminishing waves of depression and attacks by memories.

OMG. I need a session with Gayle, pronto. Until then, I think what I really need to do is make a list. It should include what I'm in the middle of, when I started it, and a reasonable date I can expect to finish it, followed by the next thing on my list. I know that my head spins when I try to consider all my readings. I look at them: book 1, book 2, book 3, blog, facebook, email... and I just get stressed out. I want to finish each thing but need to put them in some sort of order, and then follow through on each one in that order. Gayle...?

21. Customized Cut and Paste for: Tracy

I am a lover of other people's writing abilities. My own--not so much. I mean, I can write. I can craft fairly creative sentences here and there, when I'm thinking straight. Sometimes "straight" means extremely joyous and sometimes it means extremely sad, but "straight" always means I am ready to WRITE STUFF DOWN NOW because a bunch of extreme emotion is bulging and pushing it out of my brain.

But other times, when I've got no game; when I'm neither giddy with joy from climbing a stepping higher on my mountain, nor down in the dumps from sliding downward, I look to other writings, and sometimes I steal them. (When I do, I ALWAYS use quotes and credit the author. The only time I plagiarized fer reals was when I wrote a cover letter for this job I really wanted... but I digress.)

For tonight's entry of my journey-journal I've decided to put together a collection of quotes from different sources and customize them for--me! I have no followers outside of family, and only a few friends actually read this blog, so I really don't think anyone will be terribly offended that tonight's babbling will not be my own words. Besides, it's going to make me feel better to come back and read the words of outstanding authors, customized just for me. And that's what my journal is primarily about: healing Tracy up.

My first customized plagiarism will be from The Message version of the Bible. I don't think God will have a problem with this. In the book of Matthew, right after the story of Jesus' birth, His baptism, and His forty days of temptation, the Beatitudes are laid out for us. The Message version of the bible portrays the most beautiful, poignant interpretation of these precious blessings I've seen yet.

Matthew 5:3-10

To Tracy... love, Jesus

Tracy, you are blessed when you're at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and His rule.

Tracy, you are blessed when you feel you've lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you.

Tracy, you are blessed when you're content with just who you are--no more, no less. That's the moment you find yourself the proud owner of everything that cannot be bought.

Tracy, you are blessed with you've worked up a good appetite for God. He's the food and drink in the best meal you'll ever eat.

Tracy, you are blessed when you care. At the moment of being care-full, you'll find yourself cared-for.

Tracy, you are blessed when you get your inside world--your mind and heart--put right. Then you can see God in the outside world.

Tracy, you are blessed when you can show people how to cooperate instead of compete or fight. That's when you discover who you really are, and your place in god's family.

Tracy, you are blessed when your commitment to God provokes persecution. The persecution drives you even deeper into God's kingdom.

The first time I ever heard this version was when Gayle read them to me, and she inserted my name at the beginning of each one. I was incredibly blessed. Thank you, Gayle! And Thank You, Jesus.

H

From Disappointment: the Sovereign Surprise by Andy Wood, blogspot May, 2009

As difficult and painful as this experience; the loss of my husband and home has been for me, I realize that it is "part of God's plan to take me where He wants me to go, and to make me what He wants me to be. This experience is is actually God's way of taking care of me... for the long term."

This huge disappointment, this delay, this derailment, this detour has a familiar note to it. Seems like someone else got delayed, derailed, and detoured: namely, the children of Israel, after they were delivered from slavery in Egypt. It was a SIX DAY march from Egypt to Canaan. But God had other plans for His delivered. He sent them packing on a detour that was intended to last a few months, but ended up lasting forty years. The idea was to lead them around Philistine territory, rather than straight through it:

"If the people are faced with a battle, they might change their minds and return to Egypt" (Exodus 13:17-18). God had, and still has, a deliberate purpose for this journey of mine. Finally, Tracy "it is not your responsibility to get where you are going. It is to be where God wants you to be".

H

From the book of Psalms, Psalm 6 customized for Tracy:

Be merciful to me, Lord, for I am faint.

Heal me, O Lord, for I am in agony.

My soul is in anguish,

How long, Lord? How much longer?

Turn, Sweet Lord, and deliver me from these assailing memories

Save me from them because of, and by, Your unfailing love.

How can I praise You when I am weeping?

Who praises You if they are dead? Or numb with sadness?

I am worn out from crying. I am worn out from memories,

once sweet and sacred, now bitter and vengeful.

Every night I drench my pillow with tears.

Every morning sadness awakens me.

My eyes grow weak with sorrow,

they fail me, because of this onslaught of despondency.

You, Lord, have heard my cry.

You have accepted my pleas for help.

These memories; this sadness will be ashamed and dismayed.

They will retreat in sudden disgrace.

Do I love that David's song which starts out so mournful, so hopeless, ends with a chant of victory? Do I love that when I cry the same tears and speak the same words as David, that my Lord fills me with hope with the last paragraph of this song? Ooh boy do I!

H

From Praise You in this Storm, by Casting Crowns:

"I was sure, God that You would have reached down

and wiped my tears away, stepped in and saved the day.

But once again I say amen

and it's still raining, as the thunder rolls.

I barely hear You whisper through the rain:

"I am with you".

And as Your mercy falls, I raise my hands and praise

the God who gives and takes away.

And I'll praise you in this storm

and I will lift my hands

for You are who You are

no matter where I am.

And every tear I've cried, You hold in Your hand

You've ever left my side.

And though my heart is torn,

I will praise You in this storm..."

H

20. For the First Time: the 'A' Word.

Tonight, right now, Friday January 8, 2010 at 10:37 pm I have somehow, from somewhere, been given the courage to admit, really admit to myself and to this journal, that my entire five year relationship with Rob was more than just toxic. It was abusive. His ex-wife talked about abuse. Mom talked about abuse. Kim and Courtney talked about it. So did his daughter. But I would hear none of it. Abusive? My prince? The man I chose to be my life partner? No, he simply couldn't be abusive. Because for one thing, if Rob were an abusive husband and partner, that would mean I had chosen an abusive mate, and that has been, to this point, unthinkable. Impossible.

Tonight I came across, and shamelessly cut and pasted, this amazing blog from one of my favorite bloggers, John Shore http://johnshore.com . He wrote an article entitled Seven Reasons Women Stay in Abusive Relationships. I started out reading number seven, then number six. As I had suspected, the abuse John talks about is physical abuse, which in my mind was the only kind of abuse a man can inflict on his wife. (Boy have I been wrong on that one!) As I read number five however, something strong, flowing... and familiar struck me six ways to Sunday. The author doesn't change his take on the type of abuse women stay with, but he CLEARLY defines how a classic abusive husband behaves behind the abuse. Here it is, spelled out for me: Why Tracy Stayed With/Waited For/Still Loves Robby.

1. Your man is cute. He has adorable ways. You see that little boy in him and you melt.
2. He's got that way of talking, of moving, of boldly taking control of stuff--he's brave like that.
3. He does things in the world. He makes things happen at work. He's powerful and yet he needs you.
4. He's smart. You wish you could be smart like that.
5. Underneath it all, he's a good man. He was raised poorly. His dad never gave him a break.
6. He tries to be nice.
7. He's got those arms you love.

All of these sorts of qualities that you love in your man really are lovable: there’s no doubt whatsoever about that. If you’re a woman in an abusive relationship, though, here are two things that you must bear in mind about all the sorts of things that make you love your man in spite of the awful way he treats you:

1) Every man has all kinds of qualities that are every bit as attractive and lovable as any characteristic possessed by your man. You just don’t know any other guys like you know your man; you’re just used to your man’s lovable qualities. Your man’s qualities seem really unique because they belong to him. But you could love those same qualities (and a whole bunch of new ones!) in another man—one who doesn’t treat you like garbage.

2) Your man uses his lovable qualities to keep you hooked on him. And a huge part of doing that is consciously, purposefully, and constantly pretending that he’s not.

17. First Wave of the new decade. Oy.

More freaking memories. God took the Utah memories, now if only He'd take these pesky recent ones from Olympia.

I love cookbooks. I've collected them since I received a big box of them from my grandma Betty for my 21st birthday. Today Anna showed me a cool recipe in one of Donnie's new cookbooks and I was immediately interested in trolling for more recipes. Then: familiar, dark, and cold dropped in to say hey. I closed my eyes for a moment and found myself face to face with a strong, paralyzing memory:

...sitting on a plastic chair in my driveway a year or so ago, brand new Rachael Ray cookbook in one hand, glass of merlot in the other. It's late afternoon, early twilight, beautifully mild, and Robby is on his way home. I want him to drive up and capture his wife dutifully perusing her cookbook in her earnest attempt to search for new ways to please his palate.

Light is fading and the temperature has dropped a tiny bit, but Robins are still singing their afternoon whirly songs while I run in the house to grab a light sweater. I'm reading each and every recipe in Rachael's big orange book and making mental notes: when I will prepare this and shop for that. I can't wait to create my new delicacies for my prince.

Eventually the event which is the highlight of my day occurs: I hear the familiar diesel sound from Robby's truck making its way up the road. I look up from my book, huge smile creeping across my face, as he rounds the corner into the driveway and pulls straight up to my chair. He returns my smile and I raise my glass to the absolute love of my life. My heart has skipped a few beats...

Today I tried to look at some recipes in another great cookbook. I was not successful. The memory of that beautiful twilight evening haunts me this very moment. I can type this entry, but my arms are heavy, and my heart aches. I want to cry. I want to sob, as once again the familiar cold dark wave crashes over me. I hate this. And while I'm tumbling in this wave, I hate life.

I will turn to God, because I know that Jesus, who knows and named every star, wants to cradle me in His lap. He wants to wrap His arms around me and pluck me from the pounding, crushing wave. All I have to do is turn to Him, stretch out my heavy arms and say Daddy.

As I think of this I can feel a lump forming in my throat. I know from experience that this is the foundational clay that turns into a good cry. As the lump grows I begin to feel tiny burning sensations behind my eyes as tears form. I'll fight them. I've shed my allotted tears this week already, and I don't have the time or the strength to deal with them today.