Get Here If You Can…

Growing pains???  That’s putting it mildly.  I feel like my relationship is being pulled apart by a sadistic taffy machine.  I feel restless, bruised, uneasy, unhappy, and unsure of why I feel any of those things I just listed.  My emotions are so raw and intense yet without a clear, definable etiology.  Something is missing…something is off kilter.  It’s extremely subtle to the untrained eye…probably trivial to most.  But to me, it has become the proverbial elephant in the room. 

I have a good man in my life and, what I have always believed to be an awesome, fulfilling, enviable marriage.  But for the past week, I have been feeling more and more like my husband and I have, in some respects become strangers.  I know that when we started out, we spent every spare moment getting to know each other on the deepest possible level.  But after we got married, our focus shifted to learning how to coexist in the same living space and learning how to be lovers, meanwhile, our friendship has slowly been starving to death.  And perhaps we were so convinced that we knew each so well then, that we stopped doing the work.  Now we’re stuck with understanding and perceptions based on 2-3 years ago and it just doesn’t cut it anymore.  It’s so hard to hear your husband continually say to you that he understands what you’re feeling and that he knows you, but your gut is telling you that he is missing the mark completely.  And trust me, I’m scratching my head more and more lately wondering why and how I keep missing it with him.  Were we delusional back in the day?  I don’t think so.  I think we’ve just both changed so much over these past few years that our marriage has a lot of catching up to do. 

The worst part of all of this, is that it’s not truly a sudden realization.  A part of me has been coming to a slow realization about it for quite some time, but the pending move to GA has converted those pesky, infrequent musings into full-fledged concerns.  We will literally be all the other person has apart from God for the next 8 years of our lives…is that really enough?

When I was a kid, I used to think of myself as this lone soul, wandering on some planet somewhere that no else even knew existed.  I was convinced that the right man for me, not only knew about my planet, but knew where it was and how to get there.  Why do I feel like I’m still waiting to be found?  How can just a few fundamental differences in personality make two people feel worlds apart?  How can one song so perfectly capture what I’m feeling right now??? 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8h2UVJiIhNk

My Way of Saying, “I’m Sorry”…

So there’s been a lot of positive feedback from my husband’s recent comments on www.alopecianmuse.com

I just had to publish his comments here (after all, he is my husband and he is talking about me).  However, if you’d like to read the blog entry that inspired these moving words please visit the above website and give a holler to Angela.  The name of the post is ‘This One is For You Men.’ His comments were as follows:

“I was referred to this post by my wife.

Even though I feel like I have a decent grasp on the subject from personal experience with her, it was good to hear another perspective.

When I met my wife she was not yet wearing a wig or hairpiece on the regular. At the time her hair was not very thick and some days depending on the style I could see more of her scalp than others through the style. Even still, thanks to working closely on the job I got to know her and, though I was attracted to her physically, it was “her” and not simply her appearance.

So yes, I was the guy that knew early in the game that the hair thing was not perfect and still pursued a relationship.

Over time, among other conversations we spoke about her hair and how it got to the point that it currently was and how she felt about it. Long story short, she was frustrated daily with styling it, the way it grew or didn’t and later ways to hide it. Then and still now she asks me various “what if I looked like…” questions that allude, but never directly to, her feelings about her appearance.

Don’t get me wrong. As a man, I think there is an amount pride that I wanted to feel when walking with his girlfriend, woman, wife, etc.. The natural tendecy is to think of your spouse as a extension/refelection of yourself.

With that said, although it did cross my mind that someone would, in her absence address the issue, I think I was more concerned with how it affected her mood, self-confidence, etc…

I think men and women are attracted to self-confidence. So it wasn’t directly the issue itself that bothered me; it was the low self-esteem that was connected to it.

I took a very difficult path as her then-boyfriend now husband. As a christian, I didn’t want to lie to her or myself. As her man, I didn’t want to make her feel worse about herself. Besides that, I knew that most of the compliments I gave her in all honesty she did not believe even if she believed I meant them.

We talked about her cutting it off and I suggested that she didn’t. Not because I didn’t want her to be bald, but because I felt it would have been a decision based on frustration.

She began wearing wigs or getting extensions and I almost never saw her hair again. It did help in public because she was more confident in her appearance. Of course, someone would ultimately compliment her ‘hair’ which would later turn into a conversation about it; for a while even in more intimate times she wore a wig. There were times I’d love to ‘run my fingers through her hair’; however, it wasn’t hers and it would have made her more self-concious as well as remind me that it wasn’t hers (especially by touch).

For a while she was focused on growing her hair while publicly wearing wigs with the hopes that it would ‘look decent’ enough to not need the wigs within a certain time frame. When she wasn’t happy with the results after some time, she cut it short.

For our wedding she got a more expensive wig, similar to those that celebrities used. Looking at the pictures, I really liked how that looked. More importanly, I believe she did too. She was almost terrified about being the center of attention for an entire evening; however, she was beautiful inside and out.

Now when we are home she ties her head up, which I actually like the way that looks. When we go out she puts on a wig. I’d like for her to be comfortable enough with me to allow me to see her hair as is. For now, if she ever needs to re-wrap her head with scarf or something, I respectfully don’t look.

The moral of the story….
I am continually sympathetic towards women and the unreasonable physical expectations placed on them by society and/or pop culture. This goes beyond just hair but into everything potentially physically ‘attractive’ about a woman literally from her hair folicles to her toenails.

Guys indirectly feel this too because there’s a tendency to want others to respect that you have a woman who’s physically ‘all that.’

I really feel that it shouldn’t matter nearly as much as it seems to and ultimately it’s the intangible things that caused me to marry her. There are plenty of attractive women that I never considered for marriage.

I tip my hat to your husband cause I know that was not a easy ride.

Love is an ability; it is not a feeling; not an attraction; not a intimate experience. However, we want all those things from our spouses. I know she wants me to love her for her (and for all of her) and not in spite of her. However, I want her to love her for her as well.”

All I have to say is back off ladies, he’s mine!

Anway, here’s where the apology part comes in.  As mentioned in my previous post, I’ve been a real jerk to my husband lately and I know he’s really frustrated with me right now.  But I wanted to let him (and whoever else reads this) know that I’m sorry for that. (This is me now transitioning into speaking to him directly)  I’m working so hard on deserving every word that you wrote about me.  Anyway, I’ve been working on this tribute to you and I think now would be a good time to share it.  A lot of people tell me that I absently gaze at my ring and kind of twirl it on my finger and so I thought about the subconscious implications of that and turned it into a poem.  I hope this gives you just a glimpse of what marriage to you means to me…

 

The Ring He Gave…

The ring he gave reflects the character of light

The boisterous laugher of the bright sun

The soft sigh of the shy moon

The fractured disarray of a 60 watt bulb

Lending each stone unique favor.

It’s not the light that makes it change

But the eyes that look upon it

A gaze transformed by adversity and proven love,

Tear-stained eyes that bestow meaning on

The midnight sky blue sapphires

Guarding faithfully the center diamond.

The hand that takes this ring’s shape with each passing day,

The skin beneath it carved away like

A lover’s inscription on the trunk of a tree.

The deeply set markings seem to swear that

This hand belongs to this ring.

Reinforced each time it slides so easily into its space,

Worn away with time,

So at home, like my legs entwined with yours while we sleep.

My body, so proud to wear this ring you gave.

Blissful, regal, awakened to the knowing that

I am a wife,

I am his wife

The man who gave his heart and let me wear it on my hand.

                                                ~JP~

Excuses, Excuses…

I’ve been doing a lot of soul-bearing lately and, while it feels great to get everything out that I’ve been protecting these last few years, I think the repercussions are beginning to surface.  I’m acting out, on a subconscious level of course, and feeling like a darn hypocrite because of it.  That’s the only explanation I can think of to justify my actions.  My husband pointed it out to me this morning that I’ve been completely unreasonable, demanding, and picking fights for no reason.  Of course I have.  That’s what I do.  My husband leaves this incredibly sweet, heartfelt comment on someone else’s blog revealing how devoted he is to me and I love that he did that.  But the way I express it is by flying off the handle at the most minute things and blaming him for making me crazy.  He doesn’t make me crazy.  I just am.  I spent this past weekend holed up in my apartment studying and surfing the net.  What happened to all the great advice I’ve been giving people about maintaining balance and enjoying life?  I’ve been thinking more and more about shaving my head also because, honestly, I can’t stand the way it looks with all the diffuse patches of baldness and my scalp just seems to breathe better with less hair on it.  But there are so many mental hurdles to that which I will defer to another post since that isn’t really the subject of this one. 

I find myself wishing that I knew how to receive and show love better instead of acting like a spoiled child.  Honestly, as much as I’ve grown in some ways, I’m still a hot mess in others.  Certain fundamental things about me stubbornly refuse to change and I wonder what will make the difference.  The fact of the matter is, my husband deserves better than the way I treat him.  A lot of people in my life deserve better than what I give and yet they stand by me. 

I know, in part that being a writer automatically makes me emotionally volatile.  Kind of like a psychotic genius, only without the genius part.  I am an inflated paradox.  I wear my thoughts and insecurities on my sleeve and yet I keep people at an arm’s length.  I love to talk and share my feelings but when something is truly gnawing at me, I clam up altogether.  I want to be successful and touch people’s lives with my acquired medical knowledge and my writing and yet I am petrified of attention.  Maybe I can chalk some of that up to having a complex, multi-dimensional personality but I’m honest enough with myself to admit that I just plain out don’t make sense sometimes. 

Here’s the burning question that I need to answer for myself once and for all.  Why do I always expect people to hurt me?  No matter how much love they show me, there’s always this hidden part of me that wants to protect myself from the possibility that they will inevitably crush me in some way.  Not out of malice, but by virtue of the value I place in our relationship.  I come from a culture that says, ‘get a Godly husband who is worthy of your love but make sure you can support yourself in case he leaves you.’  In fact, the other day my mom was spouting off some old-school Jamaican epithets to me and when she mentioned for the millionth time that ‘God helps those who help themselves,’ I kindly pointed out that this was nowhere to be found in the Bible.  I say all of this to say that despite my efforts to walk that line between strong, independent woman who can still submit to her husband and have meaningful, whole-hearted relationships with other people, I’m still missing the mark.  How can I cross that bridge from merely giving good advice, to living good advice?   

I’d like to work on trusting the Lord with my heart concerning my relationships instead of beating up on myself for not being able to trust other people completely.  I can’t expect to never get hurt by people, but I can’t walk around expecting it all the time either.  Maybe if I can just learn to bounce back more quickly from it when it does happen and not internalize it to the point where I think something has to be wrong with me, then I’ll be on my way to being a better person.  On a similar note, I’m trying desperately to adjust to this new realm of openness that I’m being pushed into.  Even now, I’m so defensive of my writing that if someone says something positive about it, I’m always looking for the underlying negativity.  Or, like today, when my husband mentioned the possibility of reading one of my poems out loud in church as a tribute to his father, I panicked.  Instead of seeing the enormous compliment he was paying me, I saw the child that I had spent hours birthing into this world being exposed to God only knows what.  I have to stop thinking of my writing as just mine.  Although it has always been a critical form of self-therapy for me, to not share it would be the equivalent of graduating from medical school and never seeing any patients.  I’ve actually kind of taken comfort in having such a small audience up until now but, once again, this is just my paradoxical nature at work.  I’ve always known that writing is one of the ways in which I’m supposed to minister to people and I’m rarely as fulfilled as when someone reads something I wrote and tells me that it’s comforted, entertained, enlightened, or uncovered some truth for them in some way.  There is no end to my frustration today.  If you’re a believer, please pray for me because I surely am in need.  If you’ve got some poignant advice, please share.  Be blessed.

                                                                                                  Still So Frustrated,

                                                                                                                                JP

Comments on ‘The Art of Change’

If that sounded at all familiar to you then you must be thinking of one of my favorite poems of all time. I based this somewhat loosely on my interpration of ‘One Art’ by Elizabeth Bishop.  In case you’ve never heard of it, check it out.  It will be well worth it.  http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15212

First, some backstory.  A dear friend of mine said to me today that I would make a great mother.  In all my 25 years, I have never been told that by anyone and, somehow, I instinctively knew that she would not have been able to say that about me (truthfully) even a year ago.  I realized that I must have really grown and evolved as a woman to deserve such a compliment, and perhaps I had to travel all the way to southwest VA to go to school just to hear someone say that to me in a way that would resonate.  In fact, I probably wouldn’t have been able to receive that comment at all not too long ago.  But because of my experiences (and yes difficulties) with being away from home and all the people and things I love, I’m a different (dare I say better) person.

For some reason, this got me thinking about this poem.  (if it doesn’t make sense why…don’t try to follow my train of thought cuz its usually all over the place and makes sense only to me).  I think the the ideas that she explores are so brilliant and complex.  I have a thing for taking things that are not necessarily Christian or intended to be Christian and interpreting them in a Christian light.  Like how she’s talking about the inevitability of loss and how you can start out losing tangible things like keys or a watch but in time, you realize that you can lose bigger things, like time and relationships.  But is she talking about the kind of loss that is inevitable (even deserved) due to carelessness?  Perhaps to some degree, but I’m inclined to believe that she is referring to the kind of loss that no one can control.  Things are filled with the intent to be lost by virtue of the fact that they are filled with the intent to change.  I felt like I lost everything when I moved here and that all I was doing was sacrificing things that were important to me out of obedience to God’s call on my life.  I wondered so many times if medical school was worth the sacrifice of the first 7 months of my marriage, attacks on my health/mental status, homesickness, alienation, loneliness, anxiety, and depression.  But it wasn’t a true loss.  It was simply a drastic change.  Anyone else thinking of the scripture, ‘the suffering of this present time is not worthy to be compared to the glory that shall be revealed in us’? (that one was for you Pastor)

In retrospect, my marriage has been amazingly strengthened by this separation and we are virtual experts at communicating with each other now. My relationship with the Lord has also been strengthened by virtue of the fact that I’ve had little else to lean on all this time.  And the Lord has brought wonderful people into my life (Christian and non) who have helped to shape and mold my character in such wonderful ways.

Now that I’m moving back in 6 wks (gosh, time kind of flew), I’m preparing for the ways in which the familiar has changed in my absence.  Change requires loss…of the familiar, that is.  That’s why I tend to fight, because (like most people) I cling stubbornly to what I know.  There is comfort in the familiar but there is no catalyst for growth there.  The issue I wrote about is learning how to consistently deal with change gracefully, and the key to that is in your mindset.  One could easily use the excuse that since change is inevitable we should just allow life to happen to us and ‘go with the flow.’  I suppose it can feel like God is just playing chess with my life at times, but I don’t believe that for a second.  We are not rocks or trees, things which have no bearing on their environment or even the outcome of their own life cycle.  Trees can’t do a thing about the soil they’re planted in or the inclinations of the weather, and those things determine whether they will live or die.  But we have the ability to connect with our creator and produce change.  And when the unavoidable happens, we can choose how we will respond to it.  And growth is nothing more than change that has been shown to work for your benefit.  Its hard, but training your mind to view every change (desirable or undesirable) as a catalyst for growth will save sooo much grief.  Of course, I’ll probably need that reminder again myself in a few months.    

Now I’ve begun to see prayer in a similar way…as little seeds of change that we plant in the soil of faith.  I see the fruit of prayers that I’ve watered for months and years being produced all around me and I can’t help but rejoice.  I thank God that he’s given me (and us) such power in the Earth and when we remember that we have it, then we become truly powerful.  We may not be in charge but we sure have a say! Ser bendito! (That one was for my hubby)

                                                                                               ~JP~

The Art of Change…

The Art of Change

I am standing on the precipice of time hanging over a turbulent sea

Watching as those things I love are carried away from me

On blue-green waves they drift to the horizon

And my eyes follow them, with tears, to the meeting place of water and sky

Past meets present and present meets possibility

Inevitability blends with the colors of uncertainty

 

Tortured that I cannot turn the tide

And wondering, ‘How do I master this art?’

 

This change that’s always blowing through my life

At times a blissful breeze against my cheek

But usually a savage gust that renders me weak

And I am left to assemble the pieces of the wreckage

It seems everything is subject to this current called change

And in an instant, history is rearranged

 

I was not born the woman I will die

I cannot predict the outcome of my intentions

I spend my time reaching for goals behind closed doors

But when I touch them, they no longer look like they did before

Or is it me who’s been transformed by the process

And seeking further still more distant progress?

 

The mastery of this art does not lie in halting time

There is no triumph in forcing life to be still

A true master understands the purpose of the seasons

When to hold strong, when to let go, and when to use reason

He never contends with the Creator for control

Trusting Him to perfect and develop the character of his soul

 

When you love the age that is rewarded with wisdom

And loss becomes the newness that replaces the familiar

When you know your authority comes not from knowing what the future holds

But in a partnership with Father, Son, and Holy Ghost

When you face the hardest of hardships with a Spirit that cries,

‘I know the Lord, my God, will provide’

Extracting joy from sorrow, simply grateful to be alive

When you allow faith to be your teacher

And prayer to plant seeds of growth

A transformation that renews your mind will arrive

And then you’ll find, you were never meant to be a master

                                                                                      ~JP~

Making Amends…

Dear Friend,

Seems like forever since I’ve called you that

And maybe that means you’re not anymore

But things never really ended so they’re kind of just suspended…

Weightless, shapeless, drifting questions searching for answers

So I guess that leaves us somewhere between enemies and acquaintances

A new category I’m calling the ‘unfriend’

 

I shouldn’t have let things go for this long

I shouldn’t have let my anger towards you prevent me from holding on

See, I was blinded by all the things I wished you’d done

And all the ways you’d disappointed me that I couldn’t see what I had done wrong

Jealous, cuz you seemed to nurture other friendships more than mine

Confused, cuz I kept giving you the things I needed and feeling empty inside

Hurt, cuz I needed you beside me but you kept leaving my behind

But now you’re not around at all, which I’ve found, is much worse

 

We used to be so tight, kindred souls in separate skin

I told you my secrets, we laughed and we cried

I thought we’d be in each other’s lives until the day one of us died

Now so much time has passed and so much has changed in the space since we last spoke

Is there anything to be done about it now?

 

Wish I knew how to find you; I have so much I need to say

Like how I let go of the anger a long time ago, but I don’t know if you would even care

All I know is, I need forgiveness for the part I played in bringing this friendship to an end

All the times you hurt me, I never told you

I just held it in my heart and let it poison me against you

And when I needed you most, I pushed you away

Knowing that I would get a little hurt from you, to satisfy my pain

Now I’m praying that somehow, wherever you are, you’ll sense my apology

And know that I’ll always care

 God bless you for the years we did share

And maybe somewhere we don’t know is waiting for us to get there

And make amends