Healing - 2/11 - Momastery » Momastery

Not Worth Comparing

Jun 272012

So, it’s 5am and I’m up after a looooong Lymie night. Leg pains and stomach pains and then tons of Alleve and then wicked heartburn from too much Alleve. I’m tired and confused and more than a little scared and lost.

But look, I’m here – I’m writing to you. I’m a little bleary eyed, but I’m here. Because we have to keep showing up for ourselves in the thick of things just to remind ourselves that we believe. We don’t have to worry about being any good when we’re at our worst, we just have to keep trying. Because when people only show up at their best, it causes confusion and leads folks to believe that others are always strong, and sailing through life. That’s just not true. We gotta show ourselves when we’re all beat up and scarred, too. That’s what people need to see, much more than our shiny selves.

Can you tell I watched Soul Surfer for the fourteenth time last night? NEVER GETS OLD. Never, ever. It’s our family’s favorite. If you need a little inspiration, please watch it. At the risk of being grandiose, I know pronounce myself SOUL WRITER, since my body has decided to stop working. You may call me SW for short. Also, you will be happy to know that I have chosen a name for my parasite. Thank you for all of your amazing suggestions. I have settled upon Alejandro. I have no explanation for that decision. It’s just Alejandro. Thank you, Rebekah.

I need to give you some Monkee updates. First of all, this:

Claudia has her van. And I will cry as I write this but the first thing she did was get inside and have her friend and caregiver drive her to the airport to watch the planes land and take off. Why is that so brutiful? It just is.

Amy and Claudia logged 200 miles on the van the first weekend. She attended her son’s first 4-H meeting. She wasn’t able to be involved before –she had no way to make it there. And this might be the best news. She made it to her first doctor’s appointment in a long while and here is what she had to say about that.

“Thanks, Amanda. We put over 200 miles on the van since Sunday…. trip to Indy for the air show and again yesterday to go to the neurologist. Thank you all…bless you all… for giving me a life again! My neurologist says that I’m doing really well for someone with ALS and that the type of ALS I have (upper motor neuron dominant) is typically much slower to progress. All that means is that I will have more time to enjoy and be thankful for this great blessing.”

You did that. 5, 10, 15 dollars at a time- you changed Claudia’s life. Just by showing up! And by BELIEVING that your little offerings might make a difference. Loaves and fishes people, I’m telling you. Mindy update coming soon. It’s just as good.

Second update: I finished Carry On, Warrior.

You guys. I will cry again now. It was so hard. At first, I hated writing it. Because I was so used to writing to YOU that writing for the book felt different and strange. Like writing to no one. And I had to write about BIG BIG things in my life that I’d purposely never written about on the blog, because I didn’t understand them yet. BUT, I forgot that we don’t wait till we understand to write, we write so we can understand. I also remembered that I could just PRETEND to be writing directly to you- since I really was, anyway. And we finished it. We had twelve FINAL DRAFTS. The twelfth was the charm.

Now, when you are “done” with your book, what that really means in the publishing world is that you have one million more things to do and change and fix and create before you are really done. At which time you will receive your newest list of things to do to really be done. Like life. But I’m done with Step One and we have to celebrate each Completed Step in life since we can’t ever REALLY be totally done till we’re dead. And we really shouldn’t wait to celebrate until then. SO — DONE, STEP ONE! Manuscript complete! Every essay is there, as perfectly imperfect as each was meant to be. I wrote about all the things I thought I couldn’t write about. I just kept showing up and it GOT ITSELF DONE. I am starting to seriously believe that this is how it works. We don’t really have to DO anything. We just have to keep showing up and Letting Things Get Done. Except on days when we can’t show up because TOO HARD and that is just fine. Things will wait to get done. I had plenty of SORRY, TOO HARD days in there.

I really, really believe that you are going to love our book. It IS our book. I put every drop of myself in there and a whole lot of what I hope to one day be. I put all our love in it. I wrote the book I want my adult children to read and believe. I wrote the book I want YOUR children to read one day because I think it will help them breathe easier and LAUGH and open their eyes wider and be kinder to their beautiful selves and beautiful others. So that’s that. That’s something.

A few orders of business:

I’m getting more and more requests for Monkee See Monkee Do help in my inbox. We want to read every single one of your letters, but can’t unless you send your requests for help to: help@monkeeseemonkeedo.org. If you’d like to OFFER help, please send your message to: business@monkeeseemonkeedo.org. We have a team of Monkees who monitor that account. Otherwise it’s just me reading and reading and I tend to end up in the fetal position more often than is really acceptable as a grown woman. So if you’ve sent any requests to me during the past few months- please re-send to the above addresses.

What else? We don’t know what we’re going to do about moving yet. We’re thinking about taking a year Melton sabbatical in Florida. That idea still makes me want to tear out my heart and shove it down the garbage disposal because I know how many little things I’ll miss during Sister’s baby’s first year. But during the last 24 hours I have thought that there might be some blessings to that. I mean, I know you would NEVER believe this, but I tend to meddle. And maybe a first year without sister would help John and Sister rely upon each other more to keep this baby alive. That’s all we can do the first year, right? I don’t know. I just don’t know. But I’m starting to relax a little about the whole decision, probably due to your prayers.

Sometimes I get so scared about making THE WRONG LIFE DECISION. Like I’m on that game show- what was it? Where you can risk everything you’ve already won for WHAT’S BEHIND DOOR NUMBER TWO. And if you do risk it all, there might be a CAR behind door number Two. WOOOT! OR there might be nothing but a big sign that says LOSER! YOU HAVE CHOSEN UNWISELY! YOU HAVE LOST IT ALL! And you must hang your head and leave with nothing and spend the rest of your life wishing you had chosen door number ONE! ONE, dangit!!!! LACES OUT!

That’s how I usually feel about big decisions. Like there is a bit RIGHT answer and a big WRONG answer.

But that’s not right. That’s not how the God I know would work. He would be waiting behind both doors. He will be ready to walk beside me on whatever road I choose.

And then if I decide to change roads, He’d change with me.

Chase and I talked a lot about that idea last night. He agreed it makes sense, so that sort of solidified it for me, since Chase is the wisest in our family.

Anyway-I just wanted to know that Lyme and Alejandro are not going to take me down. When I woke up this morning- there were twenty encouraging messages in my inbox (THANK YOU)! One from a fellow Lymie included this scripture.

“I choose to believe the present sufferings are not worth comparing to the glory to be revealed in us.” Romans 8

You guys, I think I really believe that. Something down deep tells me that is TRUE. That this suffering is leading somewhere. Maybe even today- maybe even right NOW. Maybe someone is reading this and remembering that she doesn’t have to be perfect or even HEALTHY to live a beautiful life. That if she just continues to believe in herself, in whatever state she finds herself this morning – God will use her belief to reveal His Glory.

And for all my friends who don’t appreciate the Goddy talk. Let’s put it this way:

Keep showing up for yourself, in whatever little teeny ways you can – and somehow- it will be AMAZING.

I usually try very hard never to boss you around, but here comes some bossing:

Do NOT give up on yourself. If you don’t- I won’t. Deal?

I LOVE YOU. Thank you for coming here, to this place that brings me so much hope and joy.

Love G

Hello Lovies.

Oct 042011

You are now entering Cliché City. You’ve been warned. When the goin’ gets tough, the Doyle/Meltons fling around clichés.

Today I thought I’d try to answer the G, how are you doing? questions. Thank you so much for caring.

About the loss of the adoption- so far, I’m actually fine. It’s funny, you want all of these things, and then you get sick and you realize that the only thing you really want is to be healthy.

It’s true that every once in a while I feel a little flabbergasted, when I consider the hours and days we spent on paperwork and the nights of lost sleep and the thousands of dollars and tears and prayers that we’ve used up on this adoption during the past two years. It’s strange to just – all of a sudden – walk away. It tempts me to wonder if all of it was wasted. But deep down I don’t think that any of our efforts to love or to follow our dreams are wasted.

One time an American visited Mother Teresa in Calcutta and looked around at the hundreds of people dying in the streets and he said to her, “You’ll never save all of them. You’ll never even make a dent. How do you continue this work when you know you won’t be successful?” And Mama T looked at him and smiled and said, “I am not called to be successful. I am called to be faithful.” And I think that’s a good thing for us to remember.

One of my best friends, Jess, sent me a prayer recently about how in the West, we are so focused on goals, on results, on outcomes. But we can’t control outcomes, almost ever, so that’s probably a waste of time. I think we can only be faithful, today, to ourselves and to our families . . . to our friends and our dreams, and at the end of the day, we have to let it all go. We have to quit worrying about what becomes of it all and just be grateful we had the guts to do our little part, as we understood it. And we have to try to remember that it’s better to travel than to arrive, anyway. I think I was faithful for the past two (six) years to what I thought God wanted me to do. I spent my whole mind, soul, and strength on that dream. And so I feel pleased with that effort, and I won’t judge the outcome. It’s okay. I’m a different person than I was when I started this adoption journey, and maybe that’s the point anyway.

It helps me to see stories LIKE THESE: to see my friends who started this adoption journey at the same time I did and are home now, raising their Rwandan angels. And to watch this story unfold...one of our own…a MONKEE.. in Rwanda, picking up her baby right now, as you read this. As I read these stories – through tears of joy and loss – I am reminded that when and if it’s supposed to happen, it does. There are no mistakes. I did not fall through the cracks, it just wasn’t meant to be for me. Not now. If it’s God’s plan, nothing can stop it, and if it’s not God’s plan, there is nothing you can do to make it happen. Trust me. I’ve tried everything.

And still – The universe is unfolding as it should.

My dad used to say to me: Life is what happens when we’re making other plans.

I’m not sure I really believed that completely. I sort of thought that you could write your own story. Make your own plan, make it happen. Nah- I thought. Life is not what happens to you….life is what you make it.

But now, in the fallout of the adoption and the Lyme and on and on . . . I have come to believe that both are true. I think Life is what you make out of what happens to you.

Lyme is what is happening to me right now….and I am GOING to turn it into something good, something beautiful and helpful. I read this quote recently . . . people can tolerate suffering, but not meaninglessness. That’s how I feel right now. It’s fine . . . I’ll be sick, I’ll heal, I’ll let a few dreams go in the meantime. I’m a big girl and I know that nobody promised me that life would be easy. But I’m not letting any of it go to waste. I am going to make it all mean something. Someday.

Maybe not today, cause I’m too freaking tired.

I’ve never experienced anything like what Lyme’s done to me during the past month. I wake up tired, and I spend my morning tired, and then around 2 o’clock I feel as if someone has placed one of those heavy bibs they use for dental x-rays on top of me, and all I can do is crawl up the stairs to bed. And when I get to bed, sometimes I’m too tired to reach for a pillow, or to roll over. Too tired to roll over. It’s true. A couple of times I actually thought . . . I’m dying, I am definitely dying right now. I have what seems to be out of body experiences. My body feels so heavy that my soul seems to hover above. And during these near death experiences I always have two thoughts: OH GOD. They are going to come to take me away and everyone’s going to see how filthy the bathtub is. And also, if Craig remarries someone who can cook I will be so pissed. I will HAUNT THEM. I will mess up all her casseroles.

I don’t know why these are the deepest thoughts I can muster when I’m near death, I’m just telling the truth.

So anyway, this Lyme Time has sort of brought me back full circle. I feel like a baby sometimes. I am learning how to take care of myself, maybe for the first time ever. I spent the first half of my life tearing apart my body, then the second making and feeding little bodies, and now, for the first time, I’m learning how to help my own body and soul thrive and grow.

So that’s what I’m doing over here these days. I decided to stop saying “I’m sick” and start saying “I’m healing.”

This is how I’m going to make sense of all of this – make it mean something.

Through my own healing process, I plan to learn what people need to heal. Because I believe that all suffering is the same, and that we all suffer from something. Disease, abuse, shame, depression, pride, anger, stress, loss, hopelessness, loneliness and on and on and on forever. And I think we all need healing. Every last one of us.

So I think that if I can heal, if I can unlock the keys to healing for myself, that I’ll be able to help you, too. I don’t really understand that plan completely yet, but that’s my plan nonetheless.

So far: this is what I’ve got. I’ve got a sign in my kitchen that says:

Deep Breaths

Take your medicine

Feed yourself

Water

Fresh Air

Sun

Bath

Friends

Yoga

Pray

That’s all I’ve got so far.

What are you healing from? And what helps you heal? Let’s help each other.

A Message from Inside the Whale

Jul 182011

I love addicts. I don’t want to be around them though, because they remind me of what I used to be and often still am.

Stubborn, stupid, reckless, arrogant, manipulative, mean, untrustworthy, lazy, bitter.

These are the characteristics of the disease, not the characteristics of the person with the disease. The person gets swallowed up by the addiction, like Jonah in the whale. The WHALE is the enemy. Not Jonah. He’s lost inside, scared to death, but still alive. Still whole, still himself, just trapped.

I’m often asked if I want to use my recovery experience to counsel addicted people and I always say Hell to the NO.

Mostly because I have no idea how to help addicts. When people ask me how I got sober, the only answer I have is, “I stopped drinking.” I can sort of tell them my why – Because Of Chase. I think. But I can never explain how I got sober. How I stopped drugging. How I stopped puking. How I quit smoking.

All on the same day, thank you very much. All on the same day.

Mothers Day. Sunday, May 13, 2002. All done. No more.

I found this poem a few years ago and it’s the closest I can possibly come to explaining my how.

The Worm’s Waking, Rumi

This is how a human being can change:

there’s a worm addicted to eating

grape leaves.

Suddenly, he wakes up,

call it grace, whatever, something

wakes him, and he’s no longer

a worm.

He’s the entire vineyard,

And the orchard too, the fruit, the trunks,

a growing wisdom and joy

that doesn’t need to devour.

That’s what it was like for me.

I didn’t go through a twelve step program. I went to a few AA meetings and loved them, but then I stopped going for some reason and got busy with life. I started living- for the first time, I guess. And I fell in love with life, mostly, except for when I hated it. But love or hate, I’ve lived sober for nine years. I hesitate to write that, because staying sober without a twelve step program is supposed to be statistically impossible. But my life has never made a whole lot of logical sense, so. Maybe my success is based upon the fact that my whole existence is sort of a twelve step program. It is, kind of.

Please, if you are addicted and wondering if you should go to a twelve step meeting, the answer is decidedly, yes. Secondly, if you are wondering if you are addicted, the answer is also probably yes. People who are not addicted to anything generally don’t spend a lot of time worrying about whether or not they are addicted to things. Addiction seems to be one of those Smoke = Fire sort of situations.

Every once in a while I’ll tell someone I’m an alcoholic (usually when a neighbor asks me to drive their kid somewhere and I don’t feel like it) and in response she’ll say, “Oh. Are you sober now?” And I always say: Yes, Nine years. But to me, a truer answer would be: “I’m working on it.”

It’s like when people say, “Are you a Christian?”

I’m working on it, I want to respond. Every day, I’m working on it.

Becoming sober and becoming a Christian seem like the same lifelong process to me. Each requires me to decide not to be a jerk one million bazillion different times. When I am a jerk, each insists that I forgive myself immediately.

Each demands that I sit with pain and anxiety and grief and joy and refuse to weasel out of them with booze or food or gossip or consuming.

Each requires faith that Someone Else is in control and that this Someone loves me. Each insists that I constantly rise above my own ego and hover up there long enough to see that BARELY ANYTHING IS EVER ABOUT ME. Each demands that I stop taking people and life so damn personally.

They require me to forgive myself and others for being human. To accept life and people on their own terms. To tell the truth and listen to the truths of others. To seek first to understand. To let the past go. To let the future come.

Sobriety, conversion, marriage . . . they are based on one single decision, but the more important part is making that same decision again every single day, in every single moment.

So am I sober? Are any of us? I’m working on it. I’m getting sober-er each day. That’s good news. I am very, very pleased with that. That is my life’s work.

Jonah Part Two coming soon.

Love, G