A New Start

      The excitement was palpable but so was the frustration as I stood there in jeans and a t-shirt noticing the open attic of my new home. It was not the typical attic all tucked away where no one could see it but more like one of those high ceiling ledges. It ran completely across the top of one wall of this much larger than normal living room. 

    It was a shade of green that I was going to change as soon as I cleared all the piles of stuff. It was so full of stuff, it almost reached the ceiling which was already extremely high. What on earth am I going to do with all that stuff?  I had just moved in and was excited to make this new home my own. Looking up from the lower part of the room, some of the stuff looked like it could be valuable. Why would anyone leave it behind?

    It looked like a mixture of valuables, memories, and trash. Even from the lower level I could see crumpled up pieces of paper, candy wrappers and what seemed to be photo albums sticking out of the piles. I also couldn’t understand why the previous tenant would pile it all in a place that was so clearly visible to anyone who came into the house. Why not pack it away in the garage or someplace less obvious? 

    I saw an unstable ladder that was painted white with smooth cylinder rungs. This rickety old ladder, on the left side, was the only way to reach the top of the wall. I decided, now is as good a time as any to start cleaning. I thought it best to first get up there and see what kind of cleaning supplies I might need. Tying a bandana over my long brown hair, I climbed the ladder one rung at a time going slow enough to judge how each held my weight.

    Every rung I stepped on was awkward and exhilarating at the same time. I felt revitalized as I thought about how cleaning this area was going to beautify my living space but also concerned about getting rid of someone else’s treasures. I contemplated about when it was finally clean, it would accent the room and enhance the experience of my new home. I got excited thinking of the results.

    Once I got to the top, many of the piles looked like trash. This is going to be easier than I thought. It all seemed to be thrown up here with no apparent rhyme or reason. The more I throw away, the less junk I will have to figure out what to do with. At first glance it seemed like a no brainer. But the more I examined the piles of piles, the more I saw valuables. 

    There was a tall metal lamp that might be useful next to my couch. There were lots of piles of bed sheets and linens. And a guitar that was only a little banged up. Melody might be able to use that. She has been wanting to learn guitar. I also saw photo albums strewn throughout and began pulling things out that were clearly trash items thinking that once the trash was out of the way, it would make clearing the useful items easier. I started focusing on the trash items. 

    I noticed a lot of food. There was an old half eaten hamburger from McDonald’s next to a box with a few fries left. There were Twixt wrappers everywhere and lots and lots of sugary food items. I found a large plastic trash bag and started stuffing it. This is about the time I started seeing the roaches. 

    There were so many of them but they were all so incredibly tiny. I began being concerned about moving things for fear of unearthing large quantities of larger ones but that didn’t seem to be happening. There seemed to be only a couple hundred baby ones. I was surprised there weren’t more.

    Then I saw one large one. I noticed him specifically because it felt creepy how he seemed to follow me as I cleaned. As I was separating between what was trash and what was not, he moved with me. He stopped when I stopped and moved when I moved. My first inclination was to kill him before he made any more babies but I got the sense that he was simply making sure I was ok. I have no understanding as to how I knew this, it just felt like he was watching out for me. 

    I decided I would try to ignore him as best I could and try not to get too squeamish about him. He stayed a fairly safe distance, at least safe for my comfort level and so I kept working, continuing to bag only the things that were obviously trash items. 

    Once getting that accomplished I started separating the items that were useful from items that I wanted to go through later with more purposeful intention. There were so many linens, I don’t need that many bed sheets but it will be helpful not to have to buy new ones for my new house. How convenient! I’ve never been afraid to reuse undamaged items. I will definitely have to put these through the washer before I use them.

    I found more lamps as well but the tall one was the only one that seemed useful so the rest would go to the Salvation Army. I also found a couple of old rotary telephones but despite the nostalgic significance attached to them, they were now outdated so, off they would go as well.

    As I continued to clean, I began finding some old toys strewn throughout the whole mess that brought back lots of memories. I recognized them as similar to ones I had owned when I was a kid. The amount of familiar items began to feel a bit odd. There was a small telephone that a child would drag along the floor with a string which would make the eyes move up and down. I found old wooden Tinkertoys and wooden Lincoln Logs and started building with them, for nostalgic purposes, of course. 

    A red package caught my eye and I recognized it as a package from a Sea Monkeys kit like the one I had tried, but failed to grow. There were ten or more packs of jacks with balls of varying sizes. Some of the balls were hard and cracking and would no longer bounce when I dropped them. 

    I separated out decks and decks of playing cards which began piling up and I lost count of how many there were. It brought back memories of when I would visit my grandparents and they would play bridge with their friends. I would watch my grandfather shuffle the decks by splitting the deck into two parts holding one part in each hand between his thumb and middle fingers. He would then place his middle fingers on the table close enough together so, as each thumb released a card at a time, they would cross in the middle between his hands. 

    He would then pick up the deck with his fingers, hold his thumbs to keep the cards from scattering and create an upward bridge that would force the cards together. I was fascinated watching him do this and determined to learn how to do it myself. My hands were too small at that time but I kept trying and eventually I learned.

    My new attic was only halfway clean when I started to notice many pictures scattered throughout every pile. I had seen the photo albums but not paid too close attention to them. I picked up one of the pictures and my heart skipped a beat. It was a picture of me as a baby. 

    I was about one year old, dressed for winter. Sitting in a box with the word AJAX across the front. The box was in the snow in the front yard of my Nana’s house in Nassau, NY. I frantically looked around for some of the other loose pictures and found one of my grandparents when they were first married. I found one of my mother as a baby, sitting on a porch with her mother, grandmother and their Great Dane dog. I even found one from when my current husband and I visited his Aunt before we were married. I was two months pregnant with my second daughter.

    I carelessly grabbed picture after picture finding all of them to be from MY life. My heart started racing and it even felt hard to breathe. I was confused. Why were these pictures here and why did this stranger have them? I wanted to understand but my head was reeling and I couldn’t think clearly. I sat down not even caring if I sat on a cockroach or not. 

    I don’t know how long I sat there before I could breathe again but it had to be more than twenty minutes. When I got my breath back I slowly climbed back down the ladder and sat down on my off green couch. I looked over at the side table and noticed a glass of water sitting there and drank it feeling grateful I had thought to put it there before. Wait, when did I do that?

    I actually dozed while I processed what I had seen. When I came to, I noticed the tall lamp was placed next to my couch and wondered when I had put it there because I didn't remember doing that either. I looked up at the messy attic and pursed my lips in determination to finish cleaning it no matter what I found. 

    When I climbed the ladder again I noticed that it didn’t seem as dilapidated as it had previously. I must not have looked at it closely enough before. Once at the top I began cleaning again but this time I made a pile of pictures and albums until I could find a box in which to keep them. I was still confused about the content of pictures but decided to clean the rest of the attic before tackling that dilemma.

    As I dug through the other random items, I began to notice that they were as familiar to me as the toys. I found a top and skirt that I had made as a teenager. It was my first sewing attempt and was the result of a class I took to learn how to use my mom’s old sewing machine. It would be the only sewing class I would ever take but the dress had fit perfectly. So perfectly, in fact, that it didn’t fit three months later as I was still a growing teenager at the time.

    I found a book about horses. It had been a gift from my parents for Christmas. I had snuck into my mom’s room to find the presents she had hidden in her closet and saw it on the floor. Instead of digging through them, I just took a quick peek and saw, “The Lobe of Horses” as the title. I spent the next couple of weeks wondering, What the heck is a lobe of horses exactly? On Christmas day I read it more clearly, “The Love of Horses” but the lettering was so fancy that as I glanced at it in her closet, the v had looked like a b. I never looked for hidden presents before Christmas again.

    I kept cleaning that attic for many hours, pondering the meaning of the pictures and other familiar items when I felt recognition hit me like a light bulb turned on after being in a completely black room. The light was too bright but there was no way to turn it down. If this recognition had been a literal switch, it would have broken simply by turning it on. I would no longer be able to turn it off. I had no choice but to allow myself to acclimate to the more intense light.

    This was my attic! This was my stuff. This was my life and I was the previous tenant who had thoughtlessly piled my trash, my memories, my treasures where everyone could see and judge. It was my mess and I was the only one who could straighten it up.

Then I woke up from my dream.

My own life experience using “The Train Analogy That Will Completely Change How You See Your Stressed Out Parent”

This “Train Analogy” Will Completely Change How You See Your Stressed Out Parent

 

Written Jan 20, 2019 using an article written by Katie back in 2017(https://pickanytwo.net/the-train-analogy-that-will-change-how-you-see-your-crying-child/) as a jumping off point.

    My seventy-seven-year-old mother called me the other day to ask why I hadn’t reached out to find out how she was after she’d broken her shoulder. It didn’t matter that I had gotten a lengthy call from her husband, my stepfather, the day before telling me the details and that she would be fine. She wanted me to call her and “fawn” over her. That’s what she said: “fawn over her,” and tell her how sorry I felt for her. Generally, she wanted me to be stuck with her in her wallowing. 

    This whole concept didn’t sit well with me. I never want to be in a place, ever again, where I am dependent on another for my confidence or ok-ness. I’ve worked diligently for many years to get out of that particular life-sucking, black hole. I can no longer stand being in a place of wallowing in my own self pity, so it was difficult to listen while my mother berated me for not joining her in her stuck place of choice she had taught me from infancy. 

    Growing up, she often told me that I was the parent more than she, so as a child, I took that role on and ultimately resented it. I lost my childhood because she didn’t want to be "the" parent. I’m not alone in this. There are many people who don’t take on the parental role for their kids. 

It was later that I came across a paper written about the Train Analogy.

The Life-Changing Train Analogy 

The analogy was nothing new; it was something most of us have heard in the form of an overused cliche. Truthfully, I’d always struggled to apply it to my own rush of emotions, but here, with my mother trying to get me to be stuck with her, it seemed like the only reasonable response.

The analogy goes like this:

Difficult feelings are tunnels, and we are trains traveling through them. 

We have to move all the way through the darkness to get to the—you can do this—calm, peaceful light at the end of the tunnel.

It sounds simple, but it’s way easier said than done.

Where Well-Meaning Children of Stuck Parents Go Wrong

The problem is that well-meaning children and caregivers often attempt to intercept our parents on their journey through an emotional tunnel.

For example, watching my mom wrestle with her anger and sadness and fear at my lack of enabling, it was too easy to say something like;

“Your body has amazing abilities to heal most things if given half a chance."

“You have Papa to take care of you. Since he is a doctor, you’re in good hands.”

“Papa already told me you’d be fine.”

I wish I’d read the article before this event!

There are two ways this could have gone: 

1. I could have mentioned that she is a big girl, and she could have suddenly realized that she could get through this but just didn’t know how. She could ask if I could help since I’d been through something similar, a year before with my double hip surgery. Yeah, right. Dream on, Lisa. 
   
2. She could have seen me as unsupportive and unfair. How could I not “see her needs”? This scenario is more likely. In fact, number two is what I’ve been dealing with for many years as I’ve left this particular tunnel behind long ago. 
   

    My mother’s emotional journey is one in which she has not only gotten stuck in the tunnel but has come to love it so much she put down roots and gets her mail there. She has lived there for so many years she is unlikely to leave no matter how painful it gets. 

    My only role as a loving child is to sit with her, listen to her, and love her where she has chosen to be. She got stuck there long before I was born. This will never be my fault. I learned something when I tried the same stunt on my kids: instead of getting stuck with me, they chose to leave. It was the best thing they could have done for both them and me. 

    My love for my family overcame my “need” to get others to wallow with me. I learned to stand up for myself. . .I am still learning to do that.

This analogy can work with a friend as well.

Remember Your Job

    So the next time a stuck parent (or friend) is deeply frustrated, angry, or upset, remember what the job of a child/friend really is.

The job of a child/friend is to:

• Provide comfort through the frustration.
  
• Draw out our parent’s/friend’s cleansing tears.
  
• Show empathy to our parent’s/friend’s struggle.
  
• Allow the life lesson to be learned naturally—not through preaching.
  
• Support our parent’s/friend’s journey through the emotional tunnel.
  
• Help our parent/friend realize that the tunnel does NOT make a good home.
  

    The job of a child/friend is NOT to get our parent/friend to stop being upset as quickly as possible. Tears are a sign of success, not failure. So rub your parent’s/friend’s back. Sit with them in silence. Stay alongside them as they chug chug chug through their tunnels of feelings. And be with them when they finally reach the calm, peaceful light at the end.

Creating Normalcy

     The title would infer that there is such a thing as normalcy. Thing is, that looks different for everyone...at least that's what I believe. In large part it is true. We all have our own opinions but there are so many things that look the same. That's not to say some people won't try to pretend they don't see something a particular way. They will be contrary...for the sake of being contrary. Others may conform...for the sake of conforming. When it comes down to it, realizing what we see, the way we see it or how we project it all comes from one place....inside of our core. That is what makes us uniquely different and what makes us similar. We all have a core and not everyone is willing to look that deep inside to view it, recognize it or understand it. We learn to ignore it so we can just fit in, stand out or find our path. But must our path fit within the bounds of what the world thinks is normal?

    My generation is, the specific year I was born anyway, right on the cusp of accepted generational names. Pre-1965 is the term baby boomers and post is generation X, so aptly named for a lack of significant world events. After WWII, none of the wars happening at the time would be considered big so they had no world event significant enough with which to be connected. This is considered normal....naming a generation and identifying them with a world class catastrophic event. For me, depending on who was asked, my birth year could have been one or the other. I remember one article that left out 1965 completely...in the same article! You would think they would have noticed that. I grew up not really knowing where the world placed me. It made it harder to figure out where I fit in with the world. 

    There are so many differences in how the world is run today than when I was growing up. The general consensus moved from "adults rule" to kids should be given more respect. It skipped my growing period. As a child, adults ruled. As an adult, I learned to show more respect to my children than I had received.

    The problem is that change is never fluid. It's hard to show respect when you didn't receive it yourself, you have no example. You know you want something because it sounds better than what you had so you try...and often fail so you try again and again. Not quitting is normal. But, if you quit, that is normal too. It was hard and maybe it wasn't what you should have been doing anyway. 

    Have you ever noticed that babies keep trying, seemingly not realizing they are not capable of doing whatever it is they are attempting to do? Is the right choice to quit or to keep trying? Or is it wrong to be so determined that you will sacrifice anything, including others to continue? You decide what is "normal" for you. What do you want to change? What will that change create? If you figure that out then you have your answer to whether you move on to something else or keep trying until you get that "thing" that you are pursuing. Normal is relative.

Choosing Perspective

    Last summer my mother tried to commit suicide....for the seventh time. While in the hospital (this time) she was officially diagnosed with Narcissistic Behavioral Disorder. My childhood makes so much more sense now! 
    Looking at this from an outsider's view (which I cannot), I have tried to understand what it would feel like to have a mother who actually cared about MY life. No one can tell me that her "loving" actions were anything but selfish. Everything she did, everything she taught me was geared toward how others would view her parenting. She said as much....every time she corrected any of my actions....which was for everything! It's not possible to make a narcissist satisfied. If it seems they are happy, it will last for a short time and then they will find something you need to fix. Usually something for which they had previously praised you. All that aside, and after having spent much of my adult life recovering from being the child of a narcissist, and not knowing that's what I was doing, (still have things to work through) I find one of the biggest "solutions" is perspective.
    Let me make this clear. I believe we can only have a perspective that coordinates with our personal experiences. With that said, when we look for, and pursue a "positive" perspective we tend to find reasons to be fulfilled instead of "not good enough." It's not an easy road for anyone but especially those of us who grew up without that "angel" mother who would do anything to keep her baby safe, loved and fulfilled. I never liked Mother's Days. Now I understand why.
    At this point, I can choose. I can believe that the world is not going to provide what I need or that there may be things that the world has to offer of which I am totally unaware and I can choose to be open to the blessings that are coming to me everyday. Since I've lived on the other side my entire life, I now choose to live in this new perspective space.
    I'm not talking about being unrealistically optimistic. My upbringing won't let me move into that space. No, I'm speaking of finding the good and the positive while still acknowledging the negative that exists all around me, especially in my past. I just no longer have to dwell in it and be dragged down by the hopelessness of it all. It's a perspective that, a while ago, I didn't understand even existed. 

    Reality has always been my goto. I couldn't get past the "truths" that I was a messed up individual who couldn't seem to make my life work. Now, I can see myself as an individual who is learning to say, "Yeah, I messed up there. Well, how can I change my actions to do a little bit better next time?" (key words being little bit) I'm also ok with doing a lot better, I just no longer die inside when it's only a little bit better.

Enlightenment.....or something

     My father is a buddhist. My mother spent much of my life telling me that God doesn't exist because too many bad things happen to good people and God (as she believes he should be) would never allow bad things to happen so, he must not exist. 

    When I was 5, my mother remarried my stepfather who is a non-attending Catholic. The rest of my family, as far back as I can remember, are Methodist and that is the religion I grew up attending. The church building was big...I mean really huge!! We only attended that one because my mother had a degree in music and the church which we attended had the best music program around. This program was led, I was told, by someone who was considered to be one of the best choir directors anywhere. Every Christmas Eve we would sing songs from Handel's Hallelujah Chorus, ending with a lighted candle for everyone. Then we would go home and open one present.

    There are so many ideas about how religion should or should not exist. So many people decide that if you don't believe the way they do, you must be evil. I can't imagine a God that would see any of his children as evil. When my kids were young, I would go out of my way to correct their actions and be ridiculously careful not to tell them that they were bad but that the actions that caused whatever incident were poorly chosen. I, however, got the "normal" raising that clearly stated I was bad if I chose something for which my parents disapproved or especially the community.
    I do believe there are "right and wrong" choices. I don't believe there are right and wrong people. In my current personal belief system, I feel we are spirit children of a Heavenly being that watches over us always. Bad things do happen, because that same loving parent who lets us make choices, gives everyone that same freedom to make choices. 

    We don't always make decisions beneficial for other's lives...in fact I think it is impossible to do that for everyone all the time. The time when a choice becomes "poor" is when that particular choice is permanently harmful or detrimental to ourselves or another person.

    I'm going to forgo my deeper thoughts on this (like when is a good time to go to war, for example) and stick with the surface issues like day in and day out simple choices. These can be detrimental enough.
    Religion can help us with boundaries. Some are more strict than others but they all provide something for someone. I have always believed in the existence of a God, a supreme being, if you will, who watches over us and guides us if we will simply listen. The multiple, daily choices we make are the foundation of our entire lives....like a gauge, they measure our progress. 

    Depending on the choices WE make, we lean toward happiness or misery. If we compare our choices to our current religious belief's dictates, we have a gauge of our chosen happiness. Let me clarify here....whatever we believe in is "our religion." Or another way to see it would be, wherever we spend most of our energy, what we give most of our money to or what we spend the majority of our daily hours thinking about IS OUR RELIGION. For some, these things change many times throughout each day and those are some of the most unhappy people I have ever met!
    I do not believe we are in this life to find the one right religion but to find the path that will lead us to happiness and joy. That looks different for everyone of us. For some, a specific religious belief is a foundation for that joy. When we can find happiness in someone else's happiness, it says something about our foundational belief, that we know we are part of the human team. And, I believe, we are all part of a human team....in one form or another.

Where are we today...

    I've been saying for some time now, Trump is either going to ruin us or change things just enough to wake us up. Conspiracy theories aside, our government has, for generations, slowly taken away rights and privileges of the basic countryman....all in the name of protection. If anyone doesn't realize we're already in a police state, they are blessed NOT to be harassed! It doesn't take much to notice if you read just about any news article describing happenings in the world.

    Please understand, many of the current news stories (or something like them) have been happening for generations upon generations and it is only occasionally that they escalate to the extreme level of out right despotism. We are all human after all. The thing is, most of the occurrences were preventable, or at least minimizable. The powers that be find that their power is intoxicating and the smart ones begin to tighten the noose while distracting their victims with tempting desirables. If someone starts blowing their cover, they just create doubt about that individual or their theories. Think, "These aren't the droids you're looking for." We, as citizens, are so comfortable in our day to day lives that we either choose to not believe it even though it's right under our noses or we just choose to look the other way claiming, "I can't fix it so why bother.""It's too big for just one person." or (within our own heads)"I don't want to look like a fool to everyone else."

    I have no idea what Trump's actual plan is. Maybe that's the way he wants it. Maybe he is a genius that is going to take over the world and we are all going to be played as fools. Maybe he will start WWIII or just create such a broken economy that we become the subjects of another country. Maybe he will strengthen the economy so much we all become richer or (more likely) the economy is strengthened for only the elite few who can consider Trump to be their peer. With this last one I would guess that the elite would not want us to become subjects of some other country...at least I would hope not....of course all bets are off if it would benefit them financially.

    When we look back on these years, will we find the beginnings of a positive major change for our country or will we find the seeds of our destruction? Will time tell us?

This is my personal concern!

I hate politics as much as anyone. I'm not unique in this view. We seem to have come to a place where most feel we either take a stance or allow "bad things" to happen!

Trump won the presidency. It is Nov 14, 2016 and the whole country is up in arms about what we should do. Many are comparing his triumphant election to Hitler's rise to power.

Some feel he is the next Hitler. (except Hitler was a genius, albeit made an abundant amount of evil choices, in my opinion) I feel Trump is neither "evil" nor a genius, however, I fear his future actions could become evil. I don't personally believe his intellect will change much if any.
Some feel he will change our country for the better. I believe he will definitely make changes....not sure yet if they will be for the betterment of the people as a whole but, for sure, for Trump and his kind.

The Obama administration, and prior admins, have put in place the perfect tools for Trump's dictatorship. The government has the power to delve into the life of anyone they want....and now Trump has that power in the palm of his hand. 

We will now see the US being freed from the oppression of the past overseers, and diving headlong into the next, albeit different, dictator. 

I feel that this time it won't be as obvious as was Hitler's regime.