I thought I wasn’t going to talk to you again until Monday but this unusual example of personal integrity inspired me too much! It always comes back to knowing why you do what you do, doesn’t it?
I had it all planned out. I prepared an outline. The 52 Series was going to be 52 weeks of fine tuning in my life. I was looking to enhance my life experience.
I was going to refine but not make radical change; I wasn’t looking to transform my whole life. I like my life; and I like me, remember?
Have I been speaking as if I know something about authenticity, transparency, love? Pffft. The audacity. The arrogance. As it turns out, I know a lot about uncompromising standards.
Maybe you heard God laugh (or was that a sob?), soon after the outline was complete? It was just before,a few of the load bearing walls of my life began to shift.
It began when I received an email from a friend; who spoke to me in a tone of voice that I found unbecoming. She was really, quite, condescending. She violated my boundaries, and she was disrespectful. She offended me, so I walked away. For ten years.
It was the day of The Real Life Radio Network launch that my friend emailed to say that she thinks that She Speaks To Inspire, The Real Life Radio Network, and I am amazing. She said that she has always thought that I was amazing. She said she was sorry she spoke to me, the way she did. She said that I was right.
At the time, she was experiencing a level of stress in her life that she hadn’t shared with anyone. The stress came through in her responses to me. She didn’t explain herself, to me. So I walked away.
In my reply, I acknowledged that her words, and her tone, had been hurtful. I told her that ten years ago, my hurt was always accompanied by fear. I didn’t respect the emotion of fear, and I certainly wasn’t going to surrender to it (or anything else, for that matter). Intellectually, I understood the concept of grace, but I hadn’t experienced it. I told my friend that I had been unable to extend to her what I had not, yet, been able to receive. (Turns out, she knew this, already.)
Launch day for The Real Life Radio Network was a wonderful day, and the reconciliation with my friend promised to be the icing on the cake. We shared quick updates on our kids’ lives, and promised to bring each other up to date, with highlights of the lost decade, in another email.
There are always consequences. The most painful image of yourself, the one that will make you flinch, is the image of who you could have been.
The email that contained the highlights from the lost decade arrived, just as I was leaving my office for an appointment.
I was rushed, but too excited not to take a quick look. I couldn’t wait to know what had been happening in her life!
Within moments, the highlights from the lost decade became The Decade That I Chose Narcissism Over Love One Another.
While I was teaching her how to treat me, the life of my friend, who refers to me as the sister of her heart, could not catch a break to save her life.
Here are some of the highlights of her decade:
- Her husband was logistically downsized from an extremely well paying job.
- She had a two disk spinal fusion surgery.
- Her Step-Dad died (He was the only Dad she had ever known).
- Her Mom had two strokes.
- She was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia.
- She met her biological father for the first time.
- She has Myofacial Pain Disorder; her pain level is a 8-10 most days.
- She has 7 moles which appear to be pre-cancerous, and have to be removed. With Fibromyalgia, any procedure which touches your skin is 10x more painful than it was before.
- She almost lost her son in a, highway T-Bone, car accident.
- She went to Arizona, and spent a month in a private clinic, specializing in Fibromyalgia. She found out she had less than a 5% range of motion in most of her right leg joints: ankle, knee and hip.
- She hoped for a cure, but that didn’t happen.
- Her biological father broke off contact because she won’t/can’t call him “Dad.”
- She has a suspicious pap smear, requiring she have biopsies for both uterine & cervical cancer.
- She has to repeat the process again in 6 months.
- She bit into a piece of bread, and broke a tooth. Her dentist said the broken tooth was no big deal, compared to the tooth above which needed a root canal.
- She was informed that the state intends to take her home through the right of eminent domain.
- She sent her only child off to college; 1000 miles away from home.
- She was physically, unable to operate the company she created, and grew into success.
- She had a mammogram, and found a spot on her breast. She must have additional tests every 3 months for a year.
- Her mom was the victim of identity theft.
- Her jewelry, passed down to her from her mother and grandmother, was stolen.
Oh, and during that time…
- She was praying for me and my family.
The load-bearing walls continue to shift…maybe we’re going to transform my whole life, after all.
This is the first article I read this morning. I think it might change my whole day. Heck, it might change my life.
Her mother and father married in 1960. Two years later, they were parents. Her dad was traveling during the week, and her mother was working in the administrative offices of one of the largest, most progressive, public school systems in the nation. She wasn’t teaching, but the next classroom opening would belong to her.
Women hadn’t fully crashed the male dominated job market in 1963, so she was pleased and proud of her secretarial position. Career glass ceilings were not a concern to her mother. She chose teaching because she loved it, and because she was a naturally, gifted, educator.
She was beautiful and smart, and became a woman of uncompromising standards. To be fair, there were no double standards, either. She held herself, and everyone else, to the standards that she believed to be worthwhile, respectable, appropriate, and becoming.
The last thing anyone wanted to hear her say, was that whatever they had done or said was, unbecoming. In a sentence constructed and spoken by her mother, unbecoming was a powerful word.
Before she walked down the aisle, in September of 1960, she asked each member of the wedding party to pinch her.
“Hard!” she said, and then she giggled.
“Just to know for sure I’m not dreaming!”, she told them.
The wedding was beautiful, tasteful, understated, appropriate, and becoming. It was almost perfect, but not quite.
During her father’s most recent outburst, he announced that he would not be walking her down the aisle at her wedding; nor would he be in attendance. As she watched and listened to his tirade, she thought to herself, “Be careful, old man. You don’t show up and this wedding might just be perfect.” She already had a back up plan. Her uncle had already agreed.
True to his character, without warning or explanation, he changed his mind; and showed up, after all. Most likely, during his tirade, he saw and understood the look on her face; and realized he almost forfeited an opportunity to turn on his charm, and bask in some “Father-of-the-bride” limelight. He craved attention; hungered for admiration and respect.
And so, just as thoughtlessly as he vacated the “Father-of-the-bride” position; he walked right back in, and, unapologetically, plopped himself right in the middle of it.
She was used to this. He had been no father to her… not ever. These days, there was no obvious sign that she even noticed his tirades, except for the tiny movement, circular and constant, right at her jaw bone.
As long as she could remember, she had listened until she fell asleep; and woke in the morning, hearing him rant to her mother, “She’s no damn good and she’ll never amount to a hillabeans!” Every day, at least twice, she would hear him declare her worthless. She would strain, hoping to hear more; listening for the rebuttal from her defense, secretly hoping to hear him hit the ground! There was no rebuttal. Her mother said nothing.
Until he died, and sometimes even after he was dead, it was as if an invisibe line of gunpowder kept them connected, wherever they were. The anger, ever present, threatened to ignite the powder from one or both ends, simultaneously. Far into her adult years, deep insecurity, crafted by the hand of his cruelty, would twist and torment her self image in spite of her uncompromising standards.
She never understood what it was, about her, that got to him. Why was she the only child recipient of his venom? Her only sibling, a sister who was five years younger, had never been the direct focus of his rage. He promised to take her on a trip downtown, on the train, to buy a coat. Much like he plopped in & out again where her wedding was concerned; he decided at the last minute that he preferred to take her sister, instead of her, on the promised train ride. For the sheer pleasure of adding insult to injury, he took her sister shopping for a new coat to wear on the train. On his command, her sister spun and twirled, modeling the new coat for her family.
Even now, if she allowed herself to feel the memory, her body would respond as if she were that skinny legged, nine year old girl again.
Her beautiful brown eyes filled with confusion and anger as she watched her sister twirl and spin in her new coat. Her mind frantically took inventory of her behavior, searching for the cause of his rejection. Her mind could find no cause. There was no grievance against her. She watched out the bay window as her father and her sister walked to the car, and understood that it was not something she had done. It is, simply, who she is. She smiled and waved. She dare not show anger. He was far angrier. She dare not show fear. He, already, had all the power.
Eventually, she would not feel sadness at all. Eventually, she would feel very little. She wouldn’t tolerate fear. She didn’t respect the emotion, and she definitely would not allow it to control her. Anger, on the other hand, was an emotion she wielded with the skill of a highly trained combat soldier.
Beginning in her early teens, she would awaken abruptly, drenched with sweat, her heart pounding. She had vivid dreams of torturing her father. She was sure she would, too, if she only had the opportunity and the physical strength. She would calm down as she told herself that she damn sure was worth more than a hillabeans; and she was going to make sure he knew it.
When she won the acceptance of her husband and his family, she thought that was the final battle. He would have no choice but to concede. She would be declared the victor, and worthy. She was worthy, and the engagement ring on her hand proved it. Her father was out of his league, now. He was beaten!
Occasionally, a stubborn flicker of hope would get her imagination going, and she talked like there was no emptiness in the portion of a girl’s heart that is shaped like her father. She would tell herself that, by now, he must realize that he’d been wrong about her! She had a handsome husband from a nice family, she earned a college degree, and a very respectable job. Most of all, she had that beautiful baby daughter that he adored; he would have to be proud! Of course, he would!
Christmas of 1963 brought no tidings of great joy. Her new father in law, who made her feel special and accepted, died of a massive heart attack.
His death was an enormous loss for both of his sons, their mother,
and more than any one understood, it was devastatibg for his only daughter in law.
The following year, her sister married a well educated, business man. Like her father, he loved football; and like her mother, he was a faithful church member. He was handy inside and outside the house; he could even build a house! It appeared that her father had become very fond of his new son in law, as they sat together, screaming at the television during Sunday afternoon football.
Worse than that, her sister soon gave birth to their first child; a beautiful baby daughter.
19 February, 2010 18:55
February 19, 2010
For two decades she’d wondered what led them to believe that they would be happily married for a month–much less the rest of their lives.
He was a country boy; the second born of four children. His parents were hard workers, prioritizing their children’s needs and desires demands before their own. He knew the benefits and the inconveniences of a large extended family. He had grown into a man who shared the work ethic of his parents. Like the other men in his family he was a fisherman, a hunter and a master of all things mechanical.
He wore an expression of complete satisfaction (perhaps even smug),when under the expert use of his tools and innate ability to locate the source of the dysfunction, something that was broken began to perform the purpose for which it was designed. That look always sent a shiver through her; she did love a confident man.
At first glance he appeared to be a humble man– grounded. Or was it flat? Self-reliant. Or was that disconnected? He was good looking, orderly, well-groomed and structured. Appearance, structure, efficiency. He was witty and like his family, would tease, unmercifully. He was soft spoken but not soft . Naive, perhaps. No, as it turns out, he is not the naive one. He was definitely, sheltered. As in…socially isolated.
Music moved him. Not the lyrics, the music. He loved to dance; especially when they were the only two on the floor and there was an audience. He was an observer of conversations more than he was a participant; unless, the talk was of fishing, hunting or engines. The machines.
Most frequently mentioned in the engine talk were the 289 engines. There was another one, called a number that she couldn’t remember now. What she vividly remembered was how his passion for an old engine and an old car was visible through the light in his eyes. His passion for old engines and cars was really a passion for maximizing the potential of a machine that otherwise, may not have seemed worth the effort.
He loved to tell the stories of the Falcons, the Mustangs, the Fairlanes; the old Fords from his youth. His favorite perhaps, was the story of the Fairlane 500 he discovered while traveling with his Dad down a country road. The car, the pride and joy of someone from another time, sat,discarded and alone, in a farmer’s field. Now it functioned as a storage receptacle for the farmer’s empty egg cartons and as a home to a family of rats. The electrical system was the fallen victim of their constant, mindless gnawing. Years of bearing the accumulated weight of the winter snows combined with years of sitting in water from the spring thaws; rusted and deteriorated the floorboard. The moment he spotted it, he saw beauty.
He walked to the door of the farmhouse and offered $25 for the privilege of hauling away the rat-infested jewel. He attached the Fairlane to the truck with a chain. His Dad drove the hauler. He sat on top of the egg cartons; thankful for the protection from the steel springs of the drivers seat. He struggled to hold on to the steering wheel while dodging the disrupted, confused rats that were frantically, abandoning the ship.
Anticipation was the best part of a project like this; the possibilities were endless! Planning the engine modifications, the interior restoration, choosing the new body paint color (black with a clear coat over the top), cost him his sleep.
Each morning, the vision of her renewed his energy. The restoration of the 1963, turquoise, Fairlane 500, with the white top began in his mind, the moment that he laid eyes on her. She was like found treasure and she could not have meant more to him had he driven her straight off of the showroom floor. He was hopelessly, in love.
On the night her private terror began they sat, with friends at a table, in the hotel lounge. She watched him as he shared the story of the Fairlane.
He reenacted the scene for the table; pretending to hang on to the steering wheel, shielding his face and batting at imaginary rats in the air. When he reached the climax of story, The Tale of the Magnificent Transformation of the Turquoise Fairlane, his eyes began to light up. She became, for the first time, consciously aware of the truth that had been lingering in her subconscious, for years. She excused herself from the table, sprinted to the ladies room, locked the stall door behind her, and vomited.
Sill dizzy, she gathered herself, and moved to the vanity area. She washed her hands, pulled the Scope from her purse, swished, and spit. She ran her fingers through her hair and wiped the mascara smudges from beneath her eyes. Fear was an emotion she did not respect; she would not allow it to control her.
In the mirror, she looked straight into the reflection of her own eyes and intentionally, purposefully held her own, silent, gaze. Then she threw her shoulders back, tossed her hair, and wearing a freshly glossed smile she returned to join the group. No one would ever know that it was nausea that had driven her to the ladies room or that her greatest fear was now her undeniable reality.
No one would know that she returned to the table, a woman, lonely and afraid; now driven by a seething anger.
The book about narcissism, and the environment in which it is created, has been a bit unsettling for me. If it’s not clear why… I think it will be, when you read the next chapter of my book…
18 February, 2010 12:34
February 18, 2010
As part of their commitment to excellence, the hosts of The Real Life Radio Network participate in an on-going book study. The books on the calendar for 2010 are diverse; intentionally chosen to broaden our view, understand different perspectives and help us evaluate our effectiveness.
Always, with the one new thought around here, huh?
What this book study means, for me, is a lot of extra reading. I want each book choice to be appropriate, relevant and add value to our mentoring mission. Needless to say, I have learned about and considered many new concepts, since September, when I added these books to my other regular reading.
I just finished one of the books that the hosts will study this summer: Narcissism : Denial of the true self by Alexander Lowen M.D.. The content of this book is illuminating and terrifying.
I was already familiar with the story of Narcissus, the young Thespian from Greek mythology; but my understanding of the clinical term, Narcissistic Disorder, was superficial. I have observed that arrogance and insecurity co-exist in humans; often the most boastful person is the least convinced that he/she is a truly, valuable, human being. I began reading the book with a broad, but accurate, grasp of the meaning of Narcissism, I thought. Until the author defined narcissism as a pathological condition and explained that the basic disturbance of the narcissistic personality is the absence of feelings.
Now, that’s a horse of a different color!
Dr. Lowen begins with the disturbing suggestion that narcissism may be the new culture of America.
He writes,
“When wealth occupies a higher position than wisdom, when notoriety is admired more than dignity, when success is more important than self-respect, the culture itself overvalues ‘image’ and must be regarded as narcissistic.”
Sad but true tales, Dr. Lowen…
D Magazine and the magazine’s blog, Frontburner, contain proof of this nearly every day. I am often surprised at who and what D Magazine considers remarkable enough to feature. It doesn’t upset me; I usually dismiss it as a shallow, celebrity-driven, rag and I read it, again, in my Google Reader the next day.
(Yes. I do know what that says about me. Can we move on, please?)
Next, the doctor links narcissism to insanity and considers our culture again:
“There is something crazy about a pattern of behavior that places the achievement of success above the need to be loved. And there is something crazy about a culture that pollutes the air, the waters and the earth in the name of a ‘higher’ standard of living. But can a culture be insane? Personally, I see the frenzied activity of people who are trying to make more money, gain more power, get ahead–as a little crazy.
Isn’t frenzy a sign of madness?”
Absence of feelings. Devoid of feelings. Empty. Does the thought send shivers up your spine like it does mine?
We’re not talking Hannibal Lecter here. We’re talking about people with whom we share our lives; people with whom we work, socialize and quite possibly, share a home. Dr. Lowen’s explanation of the childhood environment that creates this disorder is one, with which many Americans, are all too familiar. The presence of narcissism in our society; our workplaces, schools and our churches is a reality that will not be denied. What began as an effort to achieve freedom from the stifling, sometimes oppressive, rules of an earlier age has developed into a cultural belief that all behavior boundaries are adjustable.
Dr. Lowen’s description of the effect narcissism has on society made me think of this:
II Timothy 3: 2-9
From The Message:
Don’t be naive. There are difficult times ahead. People are going to be self-absorbed, money-hungry, self-promoting, stuck-up, profane, contemptuous of parents, crude, coarse, dog-eat-dog, unbending, slanderers, impulsively wild, savage, cynical, treacherous, ruthless, bloated windbags, addicted to lust, and allergic to God.
They’ll make a show of religion, but behind the scenes they’re animals. Stay clear of these people. These are the kind of people who smooth-talk themselves into the homes of unstable and needy women and take advantage of them; women who, depressed by their sinfulness, take up with every new religious fad that calls itself “truth.” They get exploited every time and never really learn.
Dr. Lowen goes on to say that, over the 40 years he has worked as a therapist, he has seen a marked change in the personality problems of the people who consult him:
“The neuroses of earlier times, represented by incapacitating guilt, anxieties, phobias or obsessions are not commonly seen today. Instead I see more people who complain of depression; they describe a lack of feeling, an inner emptiness, a deep sense of frustration and unfulfillment.”
And then he drives home the point; and the reason that The Real Life Radio Network exists:
(For our purposes replace the word patient with the word people.)
“Only with understanding can one offer real help. All patients are desperate for someone who will understand them.”
A note from Laurie: I’ll be camping on the topic of narcissism for a few days; I want to explore the topic as it relates to my life and the 52 Series.
What say you? Have you seen evidence of narcissism in or around your life?
Come explore with me…
An unexpected email, from an old friend, led me to view this video that I made.
It’s about a time in my life I refer to as my Search and Destroy Mission.
I didn’t need to view the video; I know what it’s about.
But I did view it.
And now I am having a moment. A tears streaming down my face, really glad that no one can see me right now, kind of moment.
The Search and Destroy Mission was a season of my life when (outside of being the mother of two wonderful young men) I had had enough of what felt like a meaningless existence.
It was a time when I was on a mission to take my issues, re: church and my questions about God, straight to God.
.
It was a prayer. A prayer for a life filled with an undeniable purpose and a relationship with an undeniable God.
It was the first step. A step of faith on an unfamiliar road.
A road that would lead me to where I am today; launch day for The ReaI Life Radio Network.
I had no idea then…we rarely do.
We often have the opportunity to look over our shoulder and see the road that we’ve traveled but…
to see the moment that we asked, during the moment that He answered, is amazing and humbling.
Even the words and phrases, that I wrote on the paper shown in the video, surround me at RLRN.
So, I’m having a moment.
I’m still glad you can’t see me, with my runny nose and the mascara running down my face, but I wanted to share the moment with you.
The Intentional Life of Lisa Cottrell-Bentley
February 12, 2010
First it was the Wright On Time Book Series that drew my interest…
Lisa Cottrell-Bentley is the author. The stories follow the fictional Wright family as they travel the entire United States of America in their RV. The children, Nadia and Aidan, are homeschoolers. Each book is set in a different state with a different fun and educational theme.
After our first interview at Laurie & Co. at Robin Falls Kids I learned that Lisa and her daughters spent many hours searching for children’s books about homeschoolers, but found very few. So, they decided to create their own. As they discussed their dream storylines, the Wright on Time series took shape. While they haven’t found any mysterious devices yet, they have done lots of field research trying out many of the activities described in these books. One of Lisa’s daughters even writes the online blog in the character of Nadia Wright!
Later I learned the story behind Lisa’s publishing company…
Lisa spent over 8 years sending query letters and receiving rejections. When she went to her actual readers, none could understand why. When she asked publishers and agents, she was told that the 2.2 million families in her target market was not enough. She disagreed and sought investors to help get her into her emerging niche market.
Are you seeing a pattern here?
Quite by accident Lisa and I began another discussion on what the meaning is of the phrase ” a calling”. Is it a passion? How do you recognize a calling? How do you learn to seek a calling?
And then it all came together…
When I asked her, “Lisa, do you think a child needs to be taught how to identify passions? I personally never indulged the thought until I was 40- it just didn’t occur to me that a passion could also be productive! I was programmed to believe that productivity is priority number one. After 40 I realized I wanted seamless, integration in my life. Purpose, principals, passion, play, lots of people and productivity. So I created She Speaks To Inspire and The Real Life Radio Network! “
And she replied, “I absolutely do NOT believe that children need to be taught anything, especially how to identify passions. What we need to do, as parents and other significant adults in children’s lives, is to step back and allow them to *BE*. They’re born knowing what they love (and when they are cold, or hungry, or anything else), and when they stumble upon something they love, they embrace it fully and completely UNLESS someone tells them not to (how many times do you hear parents telling kids “no” or “later” or “that’s a fine hobby, but it’ll never support you”?).
That’s when I knew that Lisa Cottrell-Bentley needed to be our guest…
Lisa has some strong convictions and outstanding results and I want to explore! I want to know where the understanding about callings, or passions, or purpose or whatever you call that, comes from. Lisa doesn’t think you have to teach it. I think she is teaching it.
I know she’s teaching me.
We’ll see you on Monday, February 15th at 5PM, Texas time,
when Lu and I let Lisa Cottrell-Bentley un-school and inspire us at
