Growing Beyond I, Me, & Myself

Growing Beyond  

 I, Me, & Myself 

When bitter experiences have taught one not to trust anyone, how does one change? Of course, that presumes that one wants to change in the first place. Alcoholics have to hit rock bottom before they realize that they need a change, a change that they can’t do by themselves. What a scary recognition! Who do you trust? How do you know you can trust them? How close do you let them get? How long does it take for that trust to develop? 

As hard as it is for a super sensitive person to break out of their shell, it is equally challenging for family members and friends who wish to be a source of support.  After the pain of several backsliding responses some choose to give up. Their hope for change dilutes. Others distance themselves from the irritating self-centeredness, while still others stay close and cope with the many dentist-needle bite frustrations. Choices for trusting someone diminish.

In my novel, Helping Hands, a companion to Baggage burdens. Jill has hit rock bottom. Her husband has divorced her, she’s coming home from a six-week stint in the hospital saddled with back pain from an accident.  She has no car and her employer is not yet ready to take her back. Her children are following a different life plan than she expected. 

In her hours of need, she finds the only person she can count on is someone she believes betrayed her. How could she? She has to face that question when he asks her, “you do trust me?”

important healing step––

finding out the truth

“It’s worth a try. Trust me.” Seeing Jill’s silence, Bill asks again, “You do trust me?”

Bill’s question opens a wound that Jill tries to ignore. My friend, the one I met in Chicago, the one I trusted, the one who sided with Joseph when Joseph said he wanted to divorce me. Jill recalls Joseph’s words, ”Even Bill understands why I’m so frustrated with you.” How could he? And now he asks if I trust him? 

Her betrayal memory burns like hot coals on bare feet. She looks at Bill, sitting, leaning back in his chair, always leaning back waiting. Waiting for an answer, like I’m having a session in his office. Why does he have to be so much like a counselor? 

Wrinkles cross Bill’s face.

I’ve got to tell him something. If I tell him why I can’t trust him …The prospect of Bill leaving worries Jill. He’s been easy to share personal concerns with. That didn’t happen much with Joseph.

Her decision to leave Bill’s skeleton in the closet is cut short by Bill’s earlier words: “What’s important is that Daniel can see that you’re trying, that you want to fix things up.” 

If I tell Bill that I know that he sided with Joseph about leaving me, will he see that I’m trying to fix things, or will it tell him I’m dragging up old wounds, wounds that will separate us? Will he apologize, like I’m supposed to do with Daniel? Jill looks at Bill, trying to predict his response. If he does apologize, will I feel like I can trust him? 

Answers evade her. Jill begins to suspect that Bill is becoming impatient even though he hasn’t moved. His patience irritates her. If he’d only do something, say something, I could react to that. She looks down, avoiding Bill’s searching eyes. Do I really care that he took Joseph’s side?

The once-buried grievance causes her to boil. She realizes that if Daniel has issues with her like she has with Bill, then she should know about it. 

Taking a deep breath, she looks up and pokes the memory of Bill’s disloyalty. “How can you ask me to trust you? You betrayed me.” She’s surprised at the pain that instantly blankets Bill’s face. It takes a couple of seconds before he can speak. 

“Whoa! Where is this coming from?” Bill sits up in his chair as he tries to figure out what has given rise to this attack.

“You said you understood why Joseph wanted to leave me. Don’t deny it. Joseph told me. I thought you were my friend. Then you sided with Joseph? You betrayed me! Now you want me to trust you, to do something I’m not too keen on?”

Controlling his voice, Bill responds, “You’re right. I did tell Joseph that I understood his frustration. Joseph agreed to buy a house for you that he felt he couldn’t afford. To make it work, he put in hours of overtime. Then you criticized him for not spending enough time at home. That I said I understood. Not that he leave you. He claimed you were incapable of being loving. I said I thought you were a loving person. I still think so.”

“You didn’t encourage him to leave me?”

“No. Remember, I tried to bring the two of you together to work out your differences.” He pauses. “As for you not being comfortable talking to Daniel, then don’t do it. If you have a better solution, go with that. Or if you think you can comfortably continue with the way things are now, then do so.” 

        haiku capsule:

Once you betrayed me. 

How can I trust you again?

A thin ice prospect

Nextblog: The Case of the Falsely Blamed Dollar 

Order the e-book from kindle or kobo now or your soft cover from Amazon.

How have you seen trust rebuilt?

I’d like to hear your response. (callingkensaik@gmail.com)

I’d love to use it on my new website that’s being developed.

All comments will be entered for a draw on the Baggage burdens.companion novel.

I, Me and Myself

I,Me, & Myself 

I, me, and myself. What an uncomfortable focus for a person to have for their life! What could have caused such a singular, inward sense of direction? 

God only knows, you might say. Perhaps, but having met an interesting, attractive person who adopted the philosophy above, I was forced to hypothesize about what drove her to that way of life. In part, I learned she had a fragile self-concept. She did all in her power to protect it from criticism or disagreements. Thanks to her father’s persistent, unforgiving demands she grew up thinking she needed to be perfect, a goal she frequently failed. Consequently, she thought she was undeserving of love or trust from others. Her only salvation was to forget about others and love herself, do what pleased her.

How uncomfortable for the people she was with! Her reluctant agreement was evident to others. More often if their desires didn’t serve her, she would withdraw from the group. 

Her own discomfort was even greater. Her philosophy meant that when she was faced with a challenge or a problem she chose to try to solve it herself.  No help resulted in greater effort on her part or living with an undesirable situation. Asking for help was like admitting she was a faulty person. Accepting an offer of help could be done if she could see that she could return the favor.

One other element played into the reluctance to accept another’s help––they couldn’t be expected to do what was right. Some bitter experiences––broken promises–– led to that conclusion. A father’s, a boy friend’s, and even a mother’s inconsistent support meant trusting others was a risk not worth taking. Instead, I will only rely on myself. To do that I have to concentrate on caring for me only.

One of the purposes of my novel, Baggage burdens. is to show how needlessly difficult a life can be when the I, me and myself philosophy is lived.

Jill’s main problem returns. Where should I go? Robin’s? At eleven thirty at night on a weekend? She’s probably out with Brian. My parents’ place? Come crawling back? I’ll never live it down. Gramma Maxwell? By this time, she’ll be asleep. How can I disturb her? 

Jill shakes her head. No evident solution. The only thing she is certain of is staying with the boys is not an option. 

If only they hadn’t ruined everything. We were getting along so well. I have to learn that I can’t trust anyone. 

She tells herself, Don’t trust anyone. Don’t trust anyone. Count on yourself only. Its repetition acquires acceptability.

 “Having people do something extra for me is kind of like doing me favors,” says Jill.

“Something wrong with accepting favors?”

“Yes. I once read an unreturned favor is like an unpaid debt. With everybody visiting me in the hospital and covering for me while I’m stuck here, it feels like I have a ton of debts. In a way, it’s like I’m running a deficit budget. I’ll never be able to return the favors.”

“Have you thought of a favor as being a gift?”

“Same thing.”

Jill’s quick response silences Bill for a while.

        haiku capsule:

in a suspect world

count on no one but yourself

I, me, and myself

Next blog: Growing Beyond I, Me & Myself

Order the e-book from kindle or kobo now or your soft cover from Amazon.

When have you found life harder because you had to do something yourself?

I’d like to hear your response. (callingkensaik@gmail.com)

I’d love to use it on my new website that’s being developed.

All comments will be entered for a draw on the Baggage burdens.companion novel.

A Pet's Hook

A Pet’s Hook

An easy beginning to this blog would be to say a pet’s hook is its unconditional acceptance and love. The truth and effect of such an expression is amplified by I did nothing special to earn its affection. The pet’s freely given focused responses can’t help but warm one’s heart, and it’s the loss of the pet’s actions that cause a piercing pain when they die. 

What does the pet’s hook look like? Having had both dogs and cats for pets I am flooded with memories of endearing actions. One memory that refuses to let go happened when my cat, Noodles, was seriously ill, stomach infection the vet said. Have him swallow this medicine. Easier said than done. What a struggle! Holding him in my arms, using the syringe, I tried to drop the contents into his mostly closed mouth. My soothing words close to his face weren’t working. A strong paw swipe hit my face. Paw pads not claws. My perceived telepathic message––I don’t want to hurt you. Still his actions call for tears. Even though I was forcing him to do what he didn’t want, he didn’t want to hurt the one he loved. 

A reported action from my wife––minutes before you come home from work Noodles paces by the front window. Frequently he climbs up and looks for you. With boots caked with snow, I stamp into the house. Noodles waits for me. Together we walk to the chair where I take my boots and mittens off. He sits patiently until I can reach down and pet him. He does this for no one else in the house. Why the strong attachment? Could it be because I rescued him from the Humane Society? 

Many such small gestures of Noodle’s affection served to capture my heart. A year later I still grieve his loss. It is such animals’ actions from pet’s that I’ve had over the years that lead me to understand how Amber, in my novel Baggage burdens. would feel when she heard that her father put Hoss, her pet horse, down before she could say her good-byes. From Amber’s expressions of the loss, I leave it to you to picture what actions Hoss did to win her heart. 

 “No!” Amber slams the phone receiver down. 

Amber’s feet race up the stairs. Moments later, Jill finds her daughter lying on her bed crying. Ten minutes of coaxing releases a tidbit of information—“Hoss is dead,” a second round of wailing. 

Shocked, Jill rolls her daughter over and gathers Amber into her arms. 

“What happened, honey?”

Amber takes a deep breath. With red eyes, she looks up at her mother. “Eve asked if I was still coming over to their place this Sunday. I thought it was a strange question, but I told her yes. She thought that since Hoss died, I might not want to come over right away.” 

Amber cries. After several deep breaths, she continues. “I told Eve I didn’t know. I hadn’t heard. She apologized for being so blunt. She found Hoss lying down, his breathing very shallow. She called the vet right away. The vet said something about Hoss’s heart. I don’t remember what. They called Dad.” 

The moment Amber said “dad,” she began crying again. Jill draws Amber close. Amber pulls away and continues. 

“Dad gave the vet permission to put Hoss to sleep, Eve said.” 

Crying starts.

“Amber, I should have called you as soon as I knew the vet wanted to put Hoss to sleep.”

“That’s right. You should have,” says Amber. A trace of anger lines her response. 

“I want you to know that my failing to call you had nothing to do with me not loving you.”

“I know. Mom told me. Work comes first.”

The comment burns Joseph like a firm slap in the face. He resolves to stick to his plan. Joseph tells Amber about the vet’s emergency call pulling him out of a meeting with Mr. Olsen’s suppliers. Then he relates the vet’s diagnosis and recommendation. As he suspects, Amber listens even though the information is several days late. “I thought of calling you then, but the vet didn’t want to have to make a return visit to the Wicksbergs’. 

“I’m sorry, Amber. Maybe I should have insisted that he come back, but lately life at work has been a major turmoil. I thought I couldn’t handle any more situations.” He holds Amber’s attention. “When the vet asked if I wanted to prolong Hoss’s suffering, I gave in. Please forgive me.” He hopes her silence means she’s considering his request.

haiku capsule:

my horse, my pet, dead!

jolting phone call squeezes tear drops

pet’s love-hook ripped out

                                                                                                          

Nextblog: I,Me, Myself 

Order the e-book from kindle or kobo now or your soft cover from Amazon.

What actions has a pet used to grip your heart or a friend’s?

I’d like to hear your response. (callingkensaik@gmail.com)

I’d love to use it on my new website that’s being developed.

All comments will be entered for a draw on the Baggage burdens.companion novel.

Expression of Faith

Expression of Faith 

Words of faith from an unexpected source––their expression can’t help but make an indelible mark in your memory. It seems like you are hearing the Lord speak. 

One time I was providing driving lessons to a num. She asked what my wife does. I answered, “she’s just a clerk in the justice department.” Her response––“In the Lord’s eyes all work is honorable.” I’ve never forgotten that respect for the work that one does. It’s on a par with Gandhi’s response to his wife’s refusal to clean the latrine. He did it. All service is honorable.

 In my novel Baggage burdens. I provided wisdom-words of love and faith from a new comer to the church. Joseph wasn’t born and raised in the Orthodox Community Church. Most church members would have seen him as a person who was listening and learning. 

In one scene Joseph is at a planning committee for the church’s father-son campout which takes place in the August long weekend. This rural church instituted the practice as a means of showing the sons that they are not only valued farmer laborers but loved family members too. When Joseph hears that three fathers who object to taking off prime harvesting-days to go out on a camping adventure are shamed into participating, he is indignant. “That’s totally unacceptable.”

His words of response are:

Joseph insists the best way to deal with those fathers is by way of one-to-one private conversations. He argues, “Participating in the campout is an excellent faith expression. It shows our boys we count on the Lord, not on our own actions for getting the crops in on time. Also, what better way is there to demonstrate our love for our sons? Our actions show they are more important than anything else.” Joseph’s enthusiasm pushes him even further. “Giving up a weekend when nothing important happens after the crops are in paints a picture of a low value for our sons.”

haiku capsule:

lasting wisdom words

heard from unexpected source

proverb-like message

                                                                                                          

Next blog: A Pet’s Hook 

Order the e-book from kindle or kobo now or your soft cover from Amazon.

What words of wisdom have you appreciated? From whom did they come?

I’d like to hear your response. (callingkensaik@gmail.com)

I’d love to use it on my new website that’s being developed.

All comments will be entered for a draw on the Baggage burdens.companion novel.