A Second Cookie

There are 106 partially completed blog posts sitting in my draft folder,with titles like Locked and Loaded, I Once Met A Model, She Lives In My Head,  Russian Nesting Dolls, Reina De La, Two Pieces Of Sand, etc.

Scrolling through them this morning,  the following caught my eye.  I know I’ve told the story about the second cookie before, but  it bears repeating…at least I think so. 😉  It has been a very good week since getting the biopsy results on Tuesday.  Really touched me how many of you took the time to comment and wish me well. DM

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I come home most nights physically and mentally exhausted from work.

We are re-roofing a 160 ft long cattle shed and as I mentioned to Tim  Monday morning when he came in 20 minutes late, he did not have a clue as to  all of the job pressures that I was under….

Concerns about the wind ripping off the #30 felt before we got it covered.  If that happened,I would have to absorb the cost of material and labor to redo it.

Safety concerns.

Dealing with  mud and not being able to get equipment in to where it needs to be.

Time pressures.

Employee’s coming in late or not at all.

Cash flow pressures.

Communication and expectation issues with the customer,  bla bla bla…

Some day he might understand, and when that day came, I wanted him to give me a call. 😉

I am living my life for the long haul, and yes, while this current project sucks a lot out of me, I am doing OK.

I have learned to pay attention to my inner world and pace myself.

I am so thankful my wife recognizes my need to transition when I get home and gives me space.

I  know three men, all married to women who regularly put major expectations on their husband’s time after they get home from work.  None of these men are what I would call  couch potatoes.  I was catching up with two of them recently and both  casually mentioned some of the tasks their wives had saddled them with in addition to their own personal responsibilities.

I kept quiet, but inside I was thinking, you have got to be kidding me.

(I’m not talking about fixing a leak in the sink, but hours and hours of busy work.)

Years ago, Mrs DM used to take care of an elderly lady I’ll call Ann.  Ann’s husband  (Carl) was still very much alive.  Wife’s job was mostly to do a little laundry, pick up around the house, that sort of thing.  Ann was pushing mid 90’s at this point.  One morning while wife was sitting in the chair talking with Ann,  Carl starts grilling Ann about the 2nd cookie he suspects she has eaten that morning…..

A second cookie!!!

Now I get it.  She didn’t have an active life style and cookies = empty calories =weight gain.  The other side of the equation was Ann was still 100% still in her right mind, she didn’t have long to live, and cookies were one of the few pleasures she could enjoy.

To this day, that exchange comes up in our home.  If either one of feels the other is over stepping their bounds with the other, we will bring up Carl and micro-managing the cookie count.

This same issue could just as easily surface between a parent and their older child, or a child and their aging parent.

Boundaries,  and imposing my will on the will of someone else who is of sound mind and body, “in the name of love.”

If you are reading this and happen to fall into the camp of being a controller,

I have two words for you…

Stop it!

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PS.  If you are on the receiving end of a controlling personality,  and need to talk, feel free to leave  a comment and or question.  I have a great readership base here,  with lots of insight.  DM

 

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Assertiveness Training

Wanted to share with you the latest 16 second assertiveness training exercise I came across.

Watch it daily, preferably  several times a day until it begins to seep into the soft tissue of your brain.

Don’t argue with me, just do it. 😉

For me, watching someone role model a behavior sticks better than just reading it out of a book…

Would love to hear your stories about standing your ground in the face of overwhelming odds.

Here’s that clip:

I know you probably think I am joking, but I am  not.

Have a good weekend! DM

Capture this while it is fresh

I’ll try to keep this short.  It has to do with unresolved emotional pain from my youth.

Wife had her class reunion a few weeks ago.  (Mine was last year, I didn’t go.)

A friend of ours (Marilyn) just attended her 50th high school class reunion on the west coast.  She was really looking forward to it….

So I’ve been thinking about it again… (the why I have absolutely no desire to go, in fact, just the opposite.

I  am not alone.

Growing up, I had a nasty case of low self-esteem.   Crippling shyness.  I’ve written about it here before..won’t unpack all of the why’s again, except for a few details.

As a young man, I did not hit puberty until my senior year of high school.  That is huge if you’re a guy, and one of the primary measurements of society is the physical….

So there I was this small, physically undeveloped  book loving twerp, with a musical bent, who loathed his body.  My ears were too big (I thought at the time) and I hated my name. Mandatory showers in gym were hell.

Fear,  fear of being shoved out of the locker room into the gym with my pants down… self loathing, low self worth….

And I wonder why I don’t have good feelings about those years?  Yea, right….

Looking back,  If I had matured earlier and felt cool and accepted, there is no doubt in my mind I would have been sucked into a lot of things I would now regret…so the very things I hated at the time, were a blessing in disguise.

 

Well, yesterday I had a lot of windshield time on my hands, and I was praying, asking God to touch  those 40 yr old wounds, if he would….

and out of nowhere, the thought came to my head….Remember the story of the ugly duckling….

(You remember that story don’t you?)  Baby swan  gets dropped in with a flock of baby ducks…he doesn’t fit in.  He is clumsily, body  out of proportion compared to his peers…they made fun of him.

Sort of like me back in the day.

You are a swan. 

 

A black swan. 

(These were random thoughts coming to my mind.)

So I have been thinking about that story ever since.

So, way down in the depths of my heart, in those pockets and recesses even I don’t have access to, a little more  of the pain has been released.

Don’t doubt me.

Black swan photo, compliments of google

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I am convinced 95% of us have unresolved emotional pain….and if you’re anything like me, it just stays buried, lodged in there, until some catalyst comes along to bring it to my consciousness…and then I have a choice…stuff it back down/ block it out/ or bring the nasty, pussy, infected crap, into the light.  Put it on the operating table.  Flush  out the wound, pull out the embedded sliver. Write about it.  Tell someone….Do whatever it takes so that it no longer  has as much power over me

That is just me.

That is just how I roll.

Later! DM

 

 

 

 

Wrong Signals

Two quick stories….

Two weeks ago, my wife had her high school class reunion.  The night of the dinner/ dance,  Nancy, (one of the organizers) asked my wife if she wouldn’t mind dressing up in a fancy gown and wearing a tiara. One of my wife’s jobs was to  hand out drink tickets and greet people as they arrived.  Several of the organizers were going to dress up in clothes from the 70’s…  Wife had been elected home-coming queen her senior year, and Nancy thought it would be fun to have her do this… Wife does not like to be in the lime light, but said, she’d do it as a good sport….

Well, the next morning as we got ready for a school tour, Jerry, one of the guys from her class commented on how much of a flirt she was the night before.  His comment took my wife off guard and by surprise.   Knowing my wife’s heart as well as I do, after 30 some years of marriage,  a flirt-er she is not.    A kinder, more thoughtful person you will not meet…but what Jerry her classmate took for flirting was her trying to be a good sport.

Pause.

I have been working on a remodel job the past month for a very challenging and difficult person.  Angry, PTSD, verbally abusive,  the word bully came to mind the first week I was there….I am used to dealing with a wide range of personality types, love my job, felt very comfortable with the things we were doing to his house, so all of the negative energy, was going right past me…until the 2nd week in.   The guy started dropping homosexual comments in my direction.

It creeped me out.

A few of you have written about this sort of thing in your blogs and how a sense of humor can go along ways to diffuse sexual comments.  Well, after the “sense of humor/ ignore it” approach didn’t work, I finally laid the law down last Friday.

If I hear another perverted comment in my direction, I am walking off the job.  Period.

Me having a positive, can-do attitude  and being a good listener was somehow getting misconstrued into only God knows what…

It made me mad.

Because I am the father of 3  daughters  and have heard  (after the fact) multiple situations where they were harassed, more than once, I wanted to straighten out a set of kneecaps with a baseball bat… (in love mind you)  🙂

This sort of stuff gets wearisome .

We live in a sexually saturated culture.  I get that.

Mostly writing this out to vent.

Very thankful I don’t have to put up with it every day.

Later! DM

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And on a completely unrelated note… here’s a short video I filmed this week in the garden.  We had a heavy dew that morning and a spiderweb caught my eye. I grabbed the camera to take a few pictures….

It is so peaceful out there.

Why does it have to be good or bad?

   

Yesterday I was out in the orchard and noticed something not quite right.   On closer inspection, I realized the hailstorm we got a couple of nights ago had really done a number on the young fruit.  It is still too early to tell for sure, but it looks like we may have a crop of all seconds.  This morning I was out in the garden setting up cages around the tomato plants, still musing on the apple crop damage, the following story came to mind….I had come across it several years ago and posted it on the blog at that time.   To this day, that story  helps me process life  when something comes along (like a hail storm.)  DM

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Once there was a farmer who  had one son and one horse.  One day his horse ran away.    When his neighbors heard about it, they came to comfort him.  “Such bad luck- we’re sorry your only horse ran away.” they said.

Who is to say whether it’s good or bad, replied the farmer.  All I can say for sure is, my horse has run away.  Time will tell whether this is good or bad.”   His neighbors just shook their heads and walk away.

A week later, his horse returned home-  along with 20 wild horses!!!

    His neighbors, upon hearing the news, came to congratulate him.  “What good luck you have.  Not only did your horse return, but he brought with him 20 more.  Such a lucky man you are!”

      “Who is to say whether it’s good or bad-  All I know is my horse has come home along with 20 wild horses-  and leave it at that.”  Again, his neighbors shook their heads and  scoffed –  “Of course it’s good luck you old fool!  Twenty new horses is obviously good luck!”

     The next week the  farmer’s son was out riding in the pen with the new horses, fell off and broke his leg.  Upon hearing the news, the neighbors came over to comfort the farmer.  “You were right- Those wild horses were not a sign of good fortune- now your son has broken his leg- and right before the harvest.  Such bad luck!”

      Again the farmer replied “Why do you constantly want to label something as good or bad.  Why can’t you just say, “My son has broken his leg while riding a horse and leave it at that.  Who is to say whether it is good or bad?”

       Upon hearing this, the neighbors were indignant ” Listen old man, to have your son break his leg at this time is unfortunate and a sign of bad luck.  You are such a fool to think otherwise.”

       The following week, an army came to town and drafted all the eligible young men, and sent them off to war in a far away place.  They did not take the farmer’s son on account of his broken leg.  Afterwards, the people were heartbroken and came to the farmer in tears-  You were right-  our sons are gone, we’ll probably never see them again- such bad luck our town has experienced!.

The old farmer (again) said- “Why do you continue to insist an event is good or bad?  We do not know the end from the beginning. Why can’t you just say, Our sons have been drafted, and only time will tell if it is good or not.

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I’m a dad to 4 great kids (and adopted dad  to another young woman)  The youngest is 28 and the oldest is 37 (today).  I’ve watched again and again  as God has used painful consequences to teach life lessons to my children.  I try not to get too worked up when I hear  some of the heartache that comes into their lives.

A night in jail is not necessarily a bad experience…..

I always told them- If you get busted, I’m not going to come and bail you out.”  “I never want to go back to that place as long as I live!!!”  they tell us later.    It took a while, but we as a family have laughed as this child has recounted the details of their experience in that night.

 

Tell me about some of the hard things in your life that have eventually resulted in good.  As always, thanks for reading along! DM

Of Grit and Bone 6/10/2017

Read this earlier post if you’re curious about the title (Of Grit and Bone)

Monday evening of this week I had an encounter with a raccoon.

Back story: We have (4) laying hens.  I separated one of them from the rest of the flock recently because they had started to  peck on her.   In case you’ve never been around chickens, they really do have a pecking order and they can be vicious.   The chicken they were picking on is my personal favorite. She is a broody hen….(the impulse to sit on her eggs until they hatch.) That trait has all but disappeared from most chickens. As chicken breeds have been genetically manipulated and bred for specific traits (ie. fast growing for meat, or designed to lay lots of eggs, etc) one of the  unintended consequences has been they have lost their motherly inclination… Things are not any better when it comes to the roosters… by and large, they  have forgotten how to do their courting and mating rituals and  become brutish….Historically, farm chickens would do courting and mating rituals (much like a prairie chicken or wild turkey).

It is really rather disturbing.

Anyway, I went out before dark to lock up the broody hen and there in the doorway to the hen-house, was a raccoon. It  ran into the small area with my broody hen sitting on the perch, not three feet above.  I’ve never heard such a scream, and I’ve been around plenty of raccoons over the years.  It sounded almost demonic. Another (5) minutes and the hen would have been history.  I ran back into the house to grab my 12 gauge, but by the time I returned, the raccoon had escaped into the bowels of the barn.

 

Thursday morning, I got sucked into the middle of a domestic dispute.   Husband and wife were going at each other right in front of me.…and in an unguarded moment, I said something to the wife. She looked so broken and humiliated and said something about him doing this in front of me…

That was a mistake.

I know better….

Yesterday morning I wound up in the ER.   Got nicked by my skill saw on my forearm.  Could have been much worse.  Forty five minutes and three staples later I was back in the saddle.

After my trip to the ER, I crawled  into a 4 ft high attic  to move loose, dusty  insulation.  Temperature was forecast to climb into the 90’s  so wanted to get that part of the project done while it was still cool.

It took the better part of two hours…..reminded me of my days on the farm mowing bales of hay.  You would be covered with dust and chaff…absolutely no air movement.

Good thing I love my job 🙂

This morning my siblings and I went out for breakfast with my parents.  Dad celebrated his 85th birthday today.  What a gift to still be able to hang out with both of my parents.  I don’t take it for granted we  get along.  That even came up in passing while we talked. One of the branches of our family is relatively well off financially, but lots of interpersonal conflict. Before the old man died, he owned  7 farms.  Take a 160 acres farm @ $8,000 an acre times (7)…you get the idea.

How was your week?

Describe it in 10 words or less.  DM

Christmas Eve, Slivers, and PTSD

Marie came up to us after church that year and asked if we’d like to join their family for Christmas eve.  Sure we said, it beat sitting in our little rental house 1000 miles from home, missing family.

As it turned out, Marie had also invited Nancy, Karen, and Scott,  all singles, also away from home over the holidays. Marie had the gift of hospitality.  Those are still some of my favorite Christmas memories…

I remember coming into Marie’s kitchen, the smell of turkey and pumpkin pie, dimly lit Christmas lights,  scented candles..

It felt like I’d just stepped into a Hallmark card movie…and we were part of the story.

Pause.

As I sat in a big stuffed chair after dinner, visiting with Sid, (Marie’s husband)  I absent-mindedly picked a callous on the tip of my pointer finger.   It had been  numb for months.

All of a sudden,  out popped an inch long wood sliver.

I thought back to early September when I had helped Joe V install a new set of pine steps.   I’d gotten a nasty sliver, and assumed I’d gotten the whole thing out.. guess not. 🙂

Pause.

The same thing happened again yesterday.  I came into the house for lunch and I noticed a  small piece of wood protruding out of the middle finger on my right hand.  Last month, I was moving some old lumber in my way on a project, and I got “stuck.”  At first, I thought I’d gotten another nasty sliver but when I got home that night and dug around, I couldn’t find anything.  (I wasn’t sure then whether I’d gotten a puncture wound or another sliver. Figured if something was in there, it would eventually work itself out.)

I know how these things work now 🙂

Pause.

Buried slivers are a great word picture for PTSD.  Trauma comes in all shapes and sizes…it could be sexual abuse. Could be trauma from combat.  Could be trauma from a surgery as a small child….  Sometimes after a traumatic event, in order for our brains to cope, a part of our heart goes numb.  It’s one of God’s coping mechanisms (I believe). The numbness initially allows me to continue to function…all the while the memory  foreign object stays buried in there somewhere, festering..and at the right time,  it will come to a head.  I don’t think you have to go looking for it.

I’ve seen this played out three times, in the lives of people close to me.   15 to 30 years after the initial trauma, weird things started to happen…unexplained panic attacks, the desire to cut, being in a state of constant hyper-vigilance, etc.

A marriage counselor told us  about the waves of terror that would overtake him when he started to deal with the abuse  he’d experienced as a child. Things didn’t come to a head until after he’d gotten married. Something would trigger the PTSD and it would incapacitate him.  One day, a friend of his stopped by unannounced, while he was in the middle of an episode. He told his wife to let his friend come up and see him…. The friend, a former marine,  had no idea that this guy was going through ptsd.  When he saw him, curled in a ball, covered with tears and snot, he crawled into the closet with him and just held him.

It was a turning point on his road to recovery.

If there is an emotional wound in your life that is giving you fits, don’t suffer in silence.  It means you are human.

Open up and let someone in.

DM