Call it serindepity or synchronicity…
It began last week and ended there, too. First, was something my mother said and second, something “B” said. <<< She’s one of my managers at work.
But as usual, I’m getting ahead of myself.
It began HERE, in my post. I was questioning my lifelong desires that never came to be. My mother commented, in part: …Your dreams for the future were filled with images of things that I suspect held (and still hold) deep symbolic meaning for you. You might take each of these elements – much as you would the elements in a dream – and free associate with them. I think you’ll find their meaning is far more important than any material value they might have.
Then, two days later, B and I were having a discussion about customer service and selling skills and I shared that I excelled in customer service and selling skills but I had trouble believing in and selling myself. I said it was silly, since I am The Self-Help Whisperer. Not very Whisper-y at all. We discussed how questions are asked of a client to learn more about them and what they need. Then, she shared the quote in my title today and offered a challenge. She said, Maybe it’s time to do a Q&A with yourself to see why you struggle in that area.
That’s twice in two days I was lead by “authority figures” I respect to ask questions. I always listen to those kinds of promptings!
I wrote everything in my journal. First, the dreams I had for myself…
Yellow house: Yellow is my favorite color. Sun and power, illumination, summer, heat, California, consciousness. The house is me – my self-image, my body. I want to be a bright, warm goddess… and welcoming home.
When I moved to Canada, I was 40 and had never owned a house. My first husband hid money from me in secret accounts. Thousands. If I’d had any doubt, he proved it by buying a house within 18 months. And he painted it yellow. It was never his favorite color, always mine.
I spent many nights in that house with our college-aged daughters and our son, who was finishing high school with special accommodations I’d worked so hard for. I knew he needed to stay but it was a sacrifice for both of us.
There were four pine trees outside at the corner, a big tree, and three smaller. I stood in the shade of those trees and cried. It was like the trees were my family… all but me.
And so I went, detailing my dreams of a potter’s wheel and artist’s studio, swimming pool, art in the yard, chimes in the trees and finally, a menagerie of critters.
Over and over again, words like spiritual and sunshine, California, and the unconscious filled the lines of my journal.
Then it was onto B’s questions, where I wrote words like embarrassment and fraud and lazy and fat. Geez, where did that come from? I wondered.
Is it any wonder I don’t have the things I want?
And I could have stopped there. Nobody would have blamed me. I wouldn’t have blamed myself.
Instead, I dug deeper.
I want to stop here and say that I had a good cry. Then, I pulled myself up and faced the truth.
The “things” are truly just things, and as far as that goes, I know I don’t need them. That one of the big ones (the house) was dangled in my face after I was able to do anything about it is not lost on me. I’ve said so much that my late ex-husband and I made amends but you know, we never did talk about the money he hid from me. Through the years of our marriage and after, he made me feel that our financial issues were mine alone and I believed him.
>>> Money <<< Big issues there.
And the things also represent the very fabric of my being: Sunshine, bright and warm… and me, a goddess in my gauze dresses and sandals on California beaches. That’s where I saw myself at this stage of life.
If only I’d hung on.
To what, is the question. Because – knock, knock – it wasn’t hang-on-able.
I remember years ago, talking to an online friend who said, “If you want to go back so bad, just do it. I’m sick of listening to you!”
Heck, a friend that lives here said the same thing to me, years later.
I didn’t know what to say to them then. I just shut up. But now I know…
You know when someone dies and it’s taking you a long time to get over it? You want to talk to people about it but nobody wants to listen?
That’s how I’ve felt.
That’s what all of this is about.
I”ve been trying to grieve the losses, which were so incredibly deep, especially when you factor in much of what’s happened since (my son’s suicide attempt, my daughter’s cancer diagnosis, my dad’s fall, my grandson being born and my ex-husband’s death) and then toss in what we’ve gone through here (the loss of everything including our home, the death of our beloved 15 year old cat, among other things – that I still cannot discuss publicly).
I’ve been grieving losses and wishing I could make everything right, if only in my dreams.
It’s bled into every aspect of my life, including (of course) my work life. I am extremely competent at figuring out what others need because I have empathy, skills and the ability to feel it. It is a gift. I need to give that gift to myself, as well.
And please, this is something I must do 100% myself. I do NOT need saving.
So, thank you Mom and B, for giving me some questions to ponder. I’ve got answers and also more questions…
And that is a good thing!