Girlfriend Intervention

My life can feel heavy and full of stress these days, so I've found myself often craving something to watch that is fairly mindless.  When Downton Abbey isn't current, (which, isn't mindless but is flipping amazing!) I have sought out other shows to keep me occupied and entertain me during what can feel like endless, tiring work.

I have gone through Suits, 2 Broke Girls, episodes of Hoarders, and Mike and Molly, among others.  In the last couple of weeks I've discovered a new show and I'm loving it.  It's called Girlfriend Intervention.  

I adore women. I lead several groups that focus on healing for women.  I think women are powerful, lovely, strong, creative, beautiful and passionate. I love nothing more than to see women celebrate one another and rejoice in the successes they see in their sisters.  I am humbled to be in groups where women share some of their private struggles and work through their healing in a group where they feel heard and supported and celebrated. 

Girlfriend intervention is a show that celebrates women… with a unique twist. 

Four black women (who are all different styles and sizes and personalities) go and help a 'Basic Woman' (Their terminology for a woman who is 'busted, broken, and has let herself go) and help remind her, or sometimes even teach her, about how incredibly beautiful and amazing she is. Through different exercises, some brazen truth, and lots of energy and love, they take these Basic women (who are all white women by the way) and make over her mindset, her physical body and a room or two of her home.  The energy of the four beautiful, fabulous, self assured women is infectious and while the beginning of the show finds the white girl overwhelmed, defensive and sometimes hurt, by the end of the process, that same woman, is cheering in delight at how amazing she is, and thanking the sisterhood for showing her the way to herself.  

I have watched at least 6 episodes so far, and what I'm learning is nothing deep or new or revolutionary, and yet this simple truth is life changing and powerful.  Women who give other women permission to be who they are, in their own wonderful, beautiful, powerful way, are life givers.  If we could all learn to celebrate other women, and also to celebrate ourselves, we could change the world. 

Each time these girls are made over and are looking at themselves in the mirror post-change… I start to cry.  Each woman is able to say (sometimes for the first time ever) … 'I'm beautiful'.  

The black women tell it like it is, and have shared some powerful truths in their show.  They point out that in the black culture, being fabulous and beautiful and taking time to take care of themselves is the norm.  And many white women (especially post-motherhood) are left serving everyone else and don't make time for themselves… letting the fabulous woman they may have been fade into the backdrop of sippy cups and soccer games.  They also point out that many white women aren't honest with one another, and we're quick to affirm one another when gentle truth would be better.  When a white girl asks another white girl- 'does this look ok?' Most white women will respond enthusiastically with a resounding 'Oh yes, you look great!' Even when that might not be true at all. We don't give one another the gift of truth.  And in doing so, we miss part of the richness of the relationship. 

The sisterhood also discusses how female white culture is afraid to celebrate our bodies.  We see differences and curves as liabilities and often find ways to hide those places that make us uniquely ourselves. Black women are taught to celebrate their curves, and their differences, and give one another permission to be who they are, without holding one another to a standard of a size 2 barbie doll. 

It's so encouraging and inspiring to see women learn to love who they are- without losing weight, or changing the unique things about themselves. The sisterhood comes in to enhance and celebrate and draw out the amazingness that was there all along, and in doing so, they are changing lives.  Each woman who is shown how powerful and beautiful she is takes that new information and it seeps into her family. Her interactions with other people change, she is suddenly aware that she is powerful and that her dreams and desires matter.  She has the gusto to go after the job she wants, to start exercising more, to romance her husband with confidence, to make time for herself. It's a fun show that has a powerful message… women supporting and encouraging women to love who they are created to be is one of the best gifts we can give to this world. When women are aware of how amazing they are, and how powerful they are, there is nothing that can hold them back, and we take that power into our families and communities and light a fire that can bring lasting change. 

If you have time to watch it- do it. (It's on lifetime, but I've watched on demand)  It's an odd, sometimes offbeat show with a powerful message: We are created to be amazing.  You'll cheer, you'll cry, and you'll be inspired to look at yourself and see that you are perfectly and powerfully you.  I'm learning much about how I need to take care of myself better, and that in doing so, I can take care of my family better! 

We need you to be who you are. Everyone on this earth is waiting for your dreams and hopes to come to pass.  We celebrate you, and we honor you.  Women are phenomenal. 

In Two Years

Today is the 2 year anniversary? non-aversary? (What do you call this anyhow?!) of when my ex husband left.
Two years ago today, I sat in stunned shock as my life was dismantled by the rush of words that poured out of his mouth and coated the bubble of ideals and expectations I had submerged myself in.  Two years ago today I became a statistic, and a shattered shell of a woman in ways I still struggle to comprehend. And two years later, as I look into the mirror, I wonder at the grief, hurt, and pain I've endured and marvel that I'm still here.

I read a quote this morning by Elizabeth McCracken that says:

“Grief lasts longer than sympathy, which is one of the tragedies of the grieving.”

Those words sat at the top of my heart and then sunk down deep; in that knowing way you experience when life has proven words to be truth.  Two years is a long time when asking friends and family to help shoulder pain.  But two years is a breath in the length of a lifetime, and some days I feel that I am at the starting gate when it comes to healing.  In so many ways I've come through this grief in leaps and bounds, shedding so much heavy weight of hurt, and delighting in the freedom that comes from the discovery of the pure strength of the soul.  In other ways, I find myself banging up against the anger phase… again.  And being frustrated with myself for being angry… again… just in a different flavor this time. 

Experiencing the death of a marriage messes with you in every way. It picks at your self worth, it can obliterate your finances, it bruises the hearts of your children in ways that take the breath right out of your lungs. I'm weary in ways I never dreamed I could be, and have worked harder than I've ever worked before.  

In so very many ways, I am proud of myself.  I have walked in integrity, and I haven't taken the easy way out.  I've protected myself against running into a relationship with another man, and I've lived for my children in a sacrificial way that has surprised me at its intensity.  So many places in this journey have shown me just how strong I am, and in other places, I'm having to really see the entitlement and expectation I had for a life that would be protected from divorce. As though somehow I was more deserving of a good marriage and a life kept from pain than others were. As though my choices could somehow manifest a life devoid of surprises and shock.

Like many college girls I suppose, I dreamed of a wedding, marriage, mothering, and home-owning in a less dream-like state and a more 'this is what you deserve' way.  

I went to college and got a degree, dated only my husband all the way through, and got married three months after graduation.  I thought I was making good choices, and in those good choices, I thought I was ensured an upward trajectory on the american dream graph. I expected to start with little, and thought that my homemaking attempts in our one bedroom apartment and then a trailer on a marine corps base would be the lowest I would ever sink. My attempts at thrifty shopping, and coupon cutting seemed quaint and part of the 'building a life together' script I believed we were both reading from.  No where in my 'surprise chapters of life' story did I ever think I would be barely scraping by, headed into my 40s alone, as a single mother with no solid home.  I assumed I would be signing papers for my first home, settling into his military retirement, and carpooling kids to sporting events.  The stark and painful reality his choices have forced upon me and the children has been incredibly eyeopening in ways I wish I could have ignored. 

It has been a gut wrenching revelation to realize that I have believed my choices and actions in my life would bring me only good and only prosperity.  While I do believe that choices are important, I am learning very painfully, that while on this earth, surrounded by other broken people, we often will suffer; not just because of our choices, but because others can make choices too.  I am angry, and I am broken, and I am, quite literally for now: poor.  I have every right to rant and rave, and fight and scream and flail and cry and fizzle out into a broken mess… and yet none of those things will pull me from the life I'm living into the one I want for my family.  It is a daily, and often hourly choice to let go of what I thought I deserved and learn to look for the beauty in what is.  It is a humbling experience to live in a measure of poverty, and yet still somehow be protected from falling by a God who sees me and sends provision just when I think there will never be enough.  My compassion for those who've lived lives harder than me, those who live lives fluffier than me but with no sense of self, those whose trappings of money prevent security in God, and in family, and in the love of real, trustworthy friends.  I'm discovering treasures in the dark, and also uncovering places where my pride and entitlement and attitude are festering.  It's a toggling back and forth between heavy, visceral gratitude, and the temper tantrum of a 3 year old screaming 'it's not fair!' 

I'm trying to be gentle with myself.  I know anger is part of the grieving process, and in many ways, it's part of the process I've largely skipped over.  I was so busy taking care of my children and trying to stand up, that the anger hung out in the bottom of my heart, and has just begun to rise to the top in the urgent need to be skimmed off.  Glennon from the Momastery blog, said last winter that sometimes we need to stop making excuses for being human… and I'm working on that.  I know it's ok to be mad, and sad, and disappointed, but I fight back against the dark shadows that try to whisper to me that it will be this way forever, and I will be broke, unloved, and in survival mode until they lay me to rest.  Walking through pain and choosing not to avoid it is a continual act of faith… trusting in what is unseen… believing that there is more to life than this… but while I work towards the 'something more' I can still find life, beauty, and passion here… in what seems like the "not enough."  The education I'm getting has been invaluable, and yet I have days where I want to rush it along, and get to the other side, where every day doesn't feel like such a struggle.  I'm in the in-between.  The place in life where there are no good answers or fluffy bows to tie off my experience for you.  My hope is that as you read here, and walk through this with me, that one day….. when I emerge from the dust, with hands open wide, heart whole and full, and knowing that all of this is enough, you will be able to celebrate with me, and tuck away some of my lessons in your back pocket.. for when your life shakes and jolts and you need to be reminded that you're not alone. 

Painful Lesson Learned

The saga with my face, and jaw, and mouth continues.  I wasn't getting any better with the steroids my doctor prescribed, and as I sat in a long business meeting last week, one of the women noticed I was struggling. I gave her the brief explanation of what was happening and she gasped with recognition.  She had experienced the same pain last year and wound up with broken teeth- she suggested I see my dentist.
When I woke up the next morning with yet another debilitating headache and horrendous pain in my face, I called my beloved dentist.  She was able to see me before the weekend.  She took x-rays and examined my mouth closely and then told me she had bad news:
I needed a root canal and had an abscess.  As she looked back and forth between my face and the black and white outline of the inside of my head she shook her head.  'Heather, having an abscess is horrible pain.  Living with chronic pain like this, even just for a couple of weeks, can cause depression and really mess you up!'
I began to cry. Her affirmation of my pain and the struggle it was beginning to create for me emotionally was comforting.  I had felt dismissed by my doctor and had left his office in horrendous pain but yet feeling like a baby.  She concluded that I needed antibiotics and pain medication.  My next stop would be to see the endodontist to retreat the tooth that is so horribly infected.

Once I began to think of the problem as dental instead of purely stress related, I had prepared myself for her news of a needed root canal. I had been told more than 8 years ago when I was pregnant with my third child that that tooth needed to be retreated.  It was a tooth that had already been treated through a root canal, and it had been crowned. I chose to wait for treatment.  I wasn't in any pain at the time, I was pregnant with my third child, still nursing my second child, and didn't want to take the time, spend the money, or have to worry about healing.  I put it off. Life kept happening and I never quite got to it.  In the years since, I've had dentists tell me it needed to be done- my current dentist has told me within the last five years that I need to do it, but I didn't want to spend the money, and I wasn't in pain, and so I never made time.
Putting it off brought me to today.  I am paying for my procrastination with copious amounts of pain, and now a hefty sum of money.

I went through the weekend but by Sunday, the pain hadn't lessened by much and I was starting to swell.  I called my dentist who told me that none of that was normal and I needed to head in to the ER.  In the ER, I was given more pain medication to prepare myself for the doctor to slice open the huge pocket of infection that was now bulging into my mouth and drain it.  She told me the relief would be great, but the actual draining was, in her words, 'going to be awful'.  I got through the lancing of the gums, and my friend drove me home to rest.  I now await my appointment to be evaluated by the endodontist on Friday and then the root canal through the crown sometime next week.  The receptionist called me earlier this week to let me know that my insurance won't cover one cent of the procedure.
Putting it off has cost me dearly in so many ways.
I could take time to write here about how putting off self care is never a good idea, and can wind up costing you more than just a bit of inconvenience.  However, I'm sure you get my point.  I'm learning more and more as I move through life as a single mother just how important it is to make time to take care of me.  I don't have much time or money to do much, but I'm learning that the better I feel, the stronger I am- in every way, from physical to emotional… the better mother I can be.
One of my dearest friends has two busy teenage daughters but she works intentionally to take good care of herself- she's aware that her girls are watching, and they will absorb far more by watching than by hearing.  She looks wonderful and creates time each day to care for herself. She nourishes her body and her heart and sees the incredible value in it.  She's a giving, generous, loving, happy, and beautiful woman.  The time she makes to care for herself spills over into others as she's better able to love well and give wholeheartedly.

I'm still learning. It's so easy for women to nurture others often at the expense of ourselves, but in doing that we deplete ourselves of the pure, and strong care we could be offering.  I have far to go, but I don't want to relearn this lesson in another hard, expensive way.  I get the message and will be more proactive in the future.