Recovery from emotional pain

It doesn’t have to hurt!

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Often overlooked is a hidden and mysterious emptiness behind emotional pain. Out of gratitude, I am featuring Dr. Jonice Webb’s program for healing–something you can do on your own at your own pace. During the past few years, her book, Running On Empty, has helped break down walls for hundreds, if not thousands, of people. Perhaps you will become the next to find your personal healing. She is starting a new course on Thursday, October 6. There is still time to sign up. She has several introductory videos that can help you determine if this is right for you. (Tap on the Welcome below to access her website.)

Welcome

Loving patiently while they learn…

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Waiting patiently in silence for the returning spring of life-giving love…

Judging vs. discerning; rejecting the person vs. employing wisdom for daily-living

There seems to be a common theme here in the blog-o-sphere, around which humanity has obstacles of communication for developing a unifying understanding. And yet, perhaps we are growing closer.

I found article on the website TheOverwhelmedBrain.com that beautifully illustrates how a form of judgment can destroy relationships. (Click or tap the link above for access to the article. The website itself is linked here, inside the “Daily Balance” of my Starfish Mission.)

A teacher with whom I once worked seemed to have struck this beautiful balance. She often remarked that her mother, also a teacher, had repeatedly instructed her to “remember to always be kind”. Continue reading “Loving patiently while they learn…”

Bullies: just longing for Boeles?

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Bulls? Bullies? Boeles? Or the elephants in the room?

Apparently my bully-ish thought-stream decided that a raging waterfall would be more appropo tonight. So, here goes…

Earlier today, I discovered that bully was, originally, a 16th Century term of endearment for a friend or lover (spelled boele). You’ll have to hang with me here to follow my spaghetti-brain logic. Continue reading “Bullies: just longing for Boeles?”

Your Turn: Bullied? Manipulated? Hurting? Healing? Please share.

Zing!

Please, please…zing us!

FindingBreathless has been paddling as fast the little duck feet could muster, heading toward a lily pad. (Truthfully, that lily pad has been covering up a soapbox podium, but you knew that, right?) Today, we’re climbing onto a lily pad and turning off our own microphones.  Today is your turn to be heard. Continue reading “Your Turn: Bullied? Manipulated? Hurting? Healing? Please share.”

Stop Bullying at Zero

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My risk. Your gain.

I am probably taking a big risk with this post, but I am just going to say it. Parents have the power to eliminate bullying. Furthermore, it must be accomplished before children even set foot in a school.

Studies dance around the issue, because empirical scientific methods are geared for testing a limited sample and a single variable at a time. It will always be a limited sample, even if it is a meta-analysis. Researchers must always leave the door open for further studies to be conducted. That is the scientific method, and science will continue to gather evidence interminably.

Not everyone is going to agree, but, on this, I’m taking a stand.

Continue reading “Stop Bullying at Zero”

I can see clearly now…

Vice

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Matthew 13: 11-33

Pain. Somehow, it seems to take on a life of its own. What you thought was hurting there, is really hurting here. I am beginning to understand. Coming here–into this world filled with pain–has sometimes felt to me as though I’ve had amnesia. Like I should have known this before. Didn’t I? How did I forget? Relearning. All of the tedium. Ugh.

Physical pain is one thing. Emotional pain is quite another. A personal who can soothe emotional pain has a gift: the gift of true love. Love is not always easy to find. Love is borne on the backs of habits– born of pain, gathers droplets through compassion, spreads across calm waters where there is no judgement, and rises from the mist into the sunshine. Love does not hold vice on its calm surface. Vice sinks quickly and disappears into the depths. Only through pond inversion will vice get another chance to become love.

Occasionally, when meeting someone for the first time, I feel as though I’ve known them my entire life. I felt like that when I met my husband. It still feels like that, most days.  Do you know this feeling?  I have been having more of those moments recently. It’s not such a coincidence, really. Retirement provides opportunity.

Several days ago I wrote a post about feeling lucky to have been unlucky. I have also been doing an online book study with friends. We have been reading the book Self-Esteem by McKay and Fanning. Throughout the book so far (it takes some time to work through that thing!), there had been no reference to geography. But then–it was there–the name of a town. MY town. The town where we have spent the greatest share of our lives. Frantically, I began searching. Was there a connection? Yes, but not what I expected.

Dr. Matthew McKay, I discovered, has written a book that he never expected to write. He is a man of science and committed to adhering to sound research practices. McKay experienced the kind of pain a parent fears the most: his son, aged 23–full of promise and excited about his future, was murdered. McKay began a highly unusual quest to try to connect with his son on the other side. He found a way. What he learned–what I read last night in his book Seeking Jordan–consumed my dreams. This morning the mist cleared, and my life seems sane again. Mostly.

You would need to read the book–and even then you would need to be in a certain place in your life’s journey to allow it in. We are just as we suspected. We are in this together. We are all connected. Pain provides us opportunity to link arms (as one reader recently said to me–so succinctly) and to learn collectively. Through our pain, we learn love–better.

I am here with you to breathe through our pain, to connect, and to learn love better.

Love,

Mira

*I am not a licensed therapist and will never claim to be such. I have retired after working 20 years as full-time, elementary-classroom teacher. I’ve taught it all: reading, math, science, and the social studies. (That does NOT mean that I have learned it all!) What I have to offer (and what I have yet to fully understand. 😉  ) is a lifetime of experiences and a spaghetti-brain full of randomly-connected information. 🙂 Most importantly, I care.

 

 

 

The Day the Music Returned

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Parade and Piano

Pasadena, California. The 1963 Parade of Roses. We were staying with distant relatives in their Craftsman-style home, two blocks from Colorado Boulevard. The adults–old and older, had set up chairs in the middle of the night and were on the street hours before the parade started. That was the year I had sworn off dolls, dresses, anything girlish. Blech! All I’d wanted for Christmas was cowboy boots. I was wearing them.

I discovered magic in that house. An old upright piano was tucked into a dark corner. (All rooms seemed dark to me back then.) As the one child amid the old and older, they left me alone (as always).  Oh, but the piano. I plunked out the most beautiful melodies (I thought), never having had the chance to touch one before. After that, I could talk about nothing else–except my daily plea for a horse. A horse was a reasonable request. There was room in the barn and an abundant supply of hay and grain. A piano? Excessive. Continue reading “The Day the Music Returned”

When Bad Luck is Good Luck

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My original thought for this title was more like Blessed to Be Cursed, but that heaviness has already filtered down to a lower water table–quite a ways down there, in fact. Honestly, I didn’t want to go the trouble of installing a new pump to haul it all up again.

In my world of education, rote learning is an accursed term. (I guess cursed may not be all that far down–it just kind of bubbled up–sorry!) We know rote as drill-and-kill: the learning of math facts, memorization without deep conceptual understanding, last minute cramming, and just surface-level regurgitation. In my journey of trying to understand why I have felt so different from others–why I was sad and empty when others around me always seemed perfectly fine–I am beginning to feel that I have received a gift.  Continue reading “When Bad Luck is Good Luck”

Underwear vs. Inner-Ware

Obvious

I couldn’t quite bring myself to use a photograph of underwear–might be a tad too obvious, so maybe a little baby-doll dress might work? This is a post about babies and babies plus just a few years, anyway. (Hang on, there’s a point in this post somewhere.)

dressWhen things go awry–even a little awry–something inside me rings out like a four-alarm fire-call. (Not the fire, just the call.) My awry-ness had to do with my laptop. A glitch. Not even much of a glitch! But there was still a four-alarm fire-call. Some people hardly notice a blip on their-inner screens when these things happen. My inner-ware? My inner-ware is hard-wired for high alert, but there is a degree of comfort from having learned that I am far from alone.

You can find all kinds of advice here on the web about anger-management, stress-management, behavior-management, and the whole package. There is not so much about prevention. There are a few brilliant parents out there who are masters of prevention. Their kiddos are l-u-c-k-y.

Some possible scenarios:    Continue reading “Underwear vs. Inner-Ware”

You can have all the charms, give me authenticity!

It is reassuring and inspiring for a new blogger like me to read the many stories of courage here.  If all you have ever known is a world full of people you can’t trust, becoming vulnerable is a scary, scary thing. If that was your world, it takes a firm, steady, and relentless hand to pull you out. My world was tiny. There was my mom, my dad, and me.

PrincecharmingA few days ago, I ventured over to a message board. I saw the pain and hopelessness–and attempted to offer a few encouraging words. It was a waste of time: we hadn’t had a chance to build trust, and when your whole being runs on high alert, trust is an elusive thing.  One participant confronted me with, “Hey, are you on drugs, or what?” The love this person knew was just another disguise for evil. I’m guessing that this person knew charms, and absolutely knew they couldn’t be trusted.

Unfortunately, I totally get that. In my backwards-but-seemed-normal-to-me existence, I assumed that anyone who was trying to be nice to me was going to be setting me up for humiliation or using me for their own purposes. Charming? Bah! A hunt for a new chew toy. The only kind of relationship I trusted was something that was straightforward and existed solely on an intellectual plane.    Continue reading “You can have all the charms, give me authenticity!”