Monthly Archives: February 2020
Like We Don’t Exist
The other day while I was walking to Port Authority after a doctor’s appointment, I noticed a young boy swaying and stumbling under the weight of his huge backpack like if he was drunk.
At a distance, he appeared too young to be walking alone on the streets of Manhattan. I felt a tug and decided I would try to catch up and speak with him.
When I did, I discovered that he was a she, with short dusty brown hair, soft brown eyes, and wearing baggy khaki pants with a matching military jacket which seemed to droop on her 4″11″ frame.
“Hey, thanks a lot,” she said when I slipped her something. She had a beautiful smile even though most of her teeth were missing and her face was covered with sores.
If I were to guess, she was no more than eighteen years old, a transient and addicted to Meth. The sores were from scratching due to formication–which is the sensation of bugs crawling on or underneath the skin–a common side effect of Meth users.
“What’s going on?” I asked. “Everything,” she said with a sigh, looking down and around to avoid making eye contact with me.
“I’m sorry to hear that. I noticed you back there and I’m glad I caught up to you,” I said.
“Really? You noticed me? Wow. No one ever notices me. It’s like I’m invisible or something. Even people I know and thought were my friends, avoid me.” Her voice cracked.
“I know what it’s like to feel invisible,” I said. I could feel my face flush and tears welling up. She searched my eyes. “My name is Whitney,” she said sticking her hand out to shake mine.
Here we were, two strangers, crossing paths, unbearing our souls on the corner of 42nd Street. The heartbeat of New York City. The epicenter of fame and fortune. As we stood there and talked, people rushed around us like we didn’t exist. The irony.
Before we parted ways, she asked if it would be okay to give me a hug. Even though I’m not the hugging type, I said yes. When we hugged, I knew she meant it.
Suffice it to say, this was the most memorable experience I’ve had in a long time. It was real. There were no walls, barriers, masks or pretenses. In contrast to all the years I worked in Corporate America, where pretenses and playing politics were the norm and being real was frowned upon. Go figure.
“Thou blind Pharisee, cleanse first that which is within the cup and platter, that the outside of them may be clean also.” Matthew 23:26
“Do not ye yet understand, that whatsoever entereth in at the mouth goeth into the belly, and is cast out into the draught?
But those things which proceed out of the mouth come forth from the heart; and they defile the man.” Matthew 15:17-18
Commitment
The dictionary defines commitment as “the state or quality of being dedicated to a cause, activity, etc.”
Through the course of my life, I’ve had trouble committing to things and sticking with losing weight, exercising, writing a book and a host of other things.
Which is why I was petrified when I got married again and became pregnant at 37. Once I crossed over the threshold into motherhood, I signed on to the scariest and biggest commitment of my life. I knew things would change and I was right because it’s been sixteen years now since my free spirit took a back seat.
I would be lying if I told you it’s been easy or that there haven’t been days I wanted to quit. Marriage is hard, parenting is even harder, but raising children with special needs is beyond difficult. Yet and still, I couldn’t imagine life without them. My love supersedes everything and compels me to keep going.
That’s not to say, I don’t miss the years I’ve flitted around like a hummingbird. But I’ve realized that commitment was exactly what I needed most because it forced me to grow up. I’ve since learned that avoiding commitment or responsibility only keeps us stuck, stagnant and stunts our growth and maturity in life and relationships. So I’d rather wrestle with the struggles and hardships that comes with commitment rather than avoid it and miss out on the opportunity to grow and mature in Christ.
“Let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.” Galatians 6:9
Redeeming Lost Time
I was speaking with my therapist last week about choices. I was explaining why certain things didn’t happen in my life and what occurred and why it lead me to where I am today. There was a significant amount of loss.
The topic came up because I was rehashing what happened in my writing group. I had submitted a piece I had worked on for critique. What usually occurs is everyone gets a turn telling you what they liked or disliked or what worked or didn’t work for them. I struggle with getting critiques because I’ve been criticized for most of my life.
My therapist explained my writing isn’t me. Meaning, they are not critiquing me as a person, they are only critiquing my writing. But I responded that my writing is me.
It’s the same thing when I cook. I like to cook and feed people. When I cook, I cook from my heart. It’s an act of giving. My cooking is an expression of who I am. So, if someone doesn’t like my cooking, I take it personally. Just like I do with my writing.
I gave my therapist a time table of every creative endeavor I’ve pursued since I was a teenager. I had the same issue with each of them. First, it was acting, then fashion design, then singing, and then writing. In that sequence.
I get the fact that we need critiques to improve and grow. However, I can’t help it if I struggle to the point of giving up. I’ve repeated the same pattern throughout the course of my life. I’m tired of this cycle and getting nowhere.
Here I am at 53, and in the same position that I was in my 20’s. It’s kind of sad actually. The Lord gave me creative abilities for a reason and I’ve allowed fear and people’s words to stop me.
My therapist is astute and asked me one simple question. “Are you trying to play catch up and make up for lost time?” I sat there and thought about it, and realized the answer is yes. Now I understand where all this pressure is coming from. I’ve made so many mistakes in the past that now I’m afraid to fail.
I have to remind myself that I wasn’t meant to be perfect in the first place. I can and will make mistakes in my life and writing. I can give myself permission to write crappy, make mistakes, and even fail. Failing isn’t the worst thing that can happen to me or you because that’s when we learn the most and can become better.
This quote by Anne Rice resonated with me this week, “To write something you have to risk making a fool of yourself.” So true.
We have to risk making a fool of ourselves. We are ever evolving as people and as writers. There is always something new to learn. We won’t stop learning and growing until we die. That’s if we allow ourselves and don’t give up.
I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of fear and people kicking me in the butt. The past is the past. This is the present. I don’t have to play catch up and try to redeem lost time. I can start from where I’m at and give myself permission to learn, grow, make mistakes and even fail. I hope you will do the same.
Invisible Battles
For most of my life, I’ve been fighting invisible battles which I had no name for. I always felt this inexplicable fear, dread or impending doom, like something terrible was going to happen.
It was only in the past few years that I’ve begun to understand what I’m contending with. I always knew something was wrong, I just didn’t know what it was.
I learned I have a condition called Generalized Anxiety Disorder or GAD for short. I also struggle with mild form of obsessive compulsive disorder and a severe case of Post traumatic stress disorder and a host of other invisible illnesses. I have a background of trauma which is what I thought was the only thing I was dealing with.
Putting a name to my conditions or symptoms didn’t change anything or make me feel any better. But, it just gave me understanding and confirmed some things.
However, once I knew, I stopped blaming myself and beating myself up for something I had no control over. It’s not my fault, and if you struggle, neither is it yours. And no, struggling with this condition doesn’t make you any less of a Christian either.
Please stop listening to Christians who tell you, you lack faith. Forgive their ignorance and pray for them to get wisdom and understanding. Unfortunately, they won’t be the only ones you’ll face where stigma exists. Sometimes you’ll get it from the ones closest to you, like those in your own household, family and even friends.
So what are you to do if you struggle and fight your invisible battles in silence? What I found helpful is reading or listening to books on the subject. Recently, I read two amazing books by Matt Haig; Reasons to Stay Alive* and Notes on a Nervous Planet.* Another thing I found helpful are support groups. NAMI is an excellent resource.
You don’t have to fight your battles alone. There is help and hope.
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