He said, she said…

"I know that you believe you understand what you think I said, but I'm not sure you realize that what you heard is not what I meant."--Robert McCloskey

When I was 9, my mom and I moved in with a woman who changed the lives of my entire family. Wally, well actually her name was Wallcie Maureema, and my mom became life partners and while it is difficult to fathom the relationship, Wally was as close to a father as I had growing up. Not to put down my biological father. He was a wonderful and loving man; he just wasn't an active part of my life before the age of 9 or after the age of 9. He taught me some important things, though. Things I haven't forgotten to this day and things that still get me through life.

This is neither about Wally nor my father, though. This is about communication. Wally comes into the subject because from the onset of our relationship communication became the keyword in my life. She taught a discipline called General Semantics. The phrase I learned to describe the concept of GS (General Semantics) is: Words don't have meaning—people do.

In essence, a person learns meaning for the words they use through experiences. For instance, Yup'ik (Eskimo to most people) has 15 different words to describe snow. English has many words to describe snow, too; however, we tend to simply say "It snowed today," as though all snow was the same. Those of us who do not live day-in and day-out in an arctic climate don't have a good referent for snow. Referent is created by experience. Two people living in the same arctic climate for a space of time have a referent when they speak to each other about snow. Yes? If one person lives in an arctic climate and another lives in a snow climate, like Colorado, they have enough referent to build understanding with each other when they talk about snow IF they take the time to listen to what each has to say. Why? Because the snow above the Arctic Circle is not like the snow in Colorado. They share similarities and yet they are different.

So now let's bring this down to relationships, particularly couples. You both grow up in the United States. You both are from the same cultural background. Let's even say you both grew up in the same city or town. One might assume you have common referent for communication, and to a limited extent you do. I can say to my friend, Deby, "you know that little café on Main Street in Lakeside?" And she will probably reply, "I do! We used to go there for French fries and salad with blue cheese dressing." We grew up in the same area, attended the same school, hung out with the same crowd. We had the common referent of age and attending the same school as well as many other things. Yet we had to learn to communicate with each other. She had to learn what I meant when I said something and I had to learn what she meant when she said something.

Why? Because we came from families and our families totally different; we learn communication from our families.

Communication isn't just about the words we use either. It is about the feelings we feel that cause signals in our bodies and about the actions that arise from those feelings. In other words, non-verbal communication. My mother could tell me without saying one word that she was angry. Her entire demeanor changed. The problem was without words—without conscious communication—I didn't know if she was angry with me, with someone else, with the dog, with life, with…. As children we usually figure she is mad at us for something we did even if we can't think of anything we did to make her angry.

Communication is a skill we do not teach until our children get into college. What is wrong with this picture?

There is one thing people have in common—relationships. A person cannot live on this earth without encountering "relationship". As people, we live in relationship to one another. Even if a person had somehow miraculously appeared on some isolated mountaintop and never saw another human being in his or her lifetime that person would still live in relationship. Not just with nature—with him or herself. And if you don't think communication applies to the relationship you have with yourself, then start listening to what you talk to yourself about each day, every day, all day. You may not use words; you may use feelings and emotions. How you communicate with yourself doesn't matter—it is what you communicate to yourself that is important.

How many couples do you know who have problems in their marriage? I'm not talking about problems that stem from alcohol, infidelity, drugs, etc. I'm talking about problems that arise from hurt feelings and misunderstandings, arguments, disagreements, etc. My ex used to walk in the door from work and start spewing. He spewed anger and discontent. You hear about displaced anger—person comes home and kicks the dog because he had a bad day at work? Well, that was my ex. He definitely was not into communication. To say the very least, his spewing caused a whole lot of hurt feelings, misunderstandings, arguments and disagreement.

How many couples do you know where the woman says—I talk and talk and talk and he just doesn't do anything; or care; or change; or …. This is kind of like the spewing my ex did, only from a more female perspective, I suppose.

We have all this "stuff" inside and it comes out without conscious, directed thought.

I have a wonderful example of mis-communication from my own 14 year marriage. I said to him, "I just want you to love me." He replies, "I give you my paycheck, what more do you want?" Both of us communicated a wealth of needs in those two sentences. Neither one of us knew what the other meant by those words.

Is there a point to this blog? I don't know … do blogs have to have a point? Okay, okay….my point is—people don't just magically learn to communicate with each other beyond the basics. Basics like giving directions to the nearest Starbucks and even that can involve a whole lot of conscious thought; however, most of us know "turn right, turn left". Yes?

Learn how to communicate. And just like everything in life—first communicate with self, then communicate with other. First self, then other.

When in doubt, have a good laugh

There are days when I may not write a word and there are other days when I may just post a quote I really like. It's my blog and I can do want I want to…regardless of what all the little voices in my head are saying! <LMAO>

Harry Dresden is a modern-day wizard and I mean to tell you, he really gets himself knocked around. It makes for an exciting story. The thing I really like about Jim Butcher's character, though, is the humor he uses through his stories and the points he makes about life through his character, Harry Dresden.

This quote goes hand-in-hand with where you find the inspiration to keep on going when you seriously question why you "should" keep on going. Nature is only one of the places I find the desire to keep on keeping on. Laughter is another. I laugh at the strangest things. I've always said I have two choices when times are tough—I can laugh or I can cry. The two actually work together for me. Usually through my tears I see the humor and start laughing. It can really put a damper on my pity party. <VBG>

So, I offer up a quote that I read the other day:

"Laughter, like love, has power to survive the worst things life has to offer. And to do it with style."

Harry Dresden via Jim Butcher, Blood Rites.

 

Help me! I’m dying and I can’t speak up…

How did we lose our voices? I'm not talking about laryngitis here. I'm talking about the ability to speak our needs—not our wants, our needs. I suppose I define "needs" as those things that keep our lives healthy and balanced, as opposed to" wants", the things that are nice to have and I can live without.

Monday I was at physical therapy. They help me do my stretching exercises when I'm there because I cannot do them on my own yet. I do more harm to my body than healing at this point. I had a different aide on Monday and she had her hands full with two of us. There was a certain exercise that really, really hurt. I knew when she was helping me that my body was not okay with what she was doing, but I didn't say anything. I just ginned and bore it. Okay, I grimaced more than grinned.

All I needed to do was say something, but I didn't. And now I am paying for it big time. I went about 10 steps backwards in my recovery process.

The people at the clinic are wonderful people. They care and I know they care. I knew they cared from the first moment I walked in the door. They are doing everything they can to make my life better. I guess I'd say they are partners in recovering my health.

As a partner I fell flat on my face. They cannot know what is happening in my body. Only I can know. So I began wondering—how did I lose my voice?

"Voice" is a subject my daughter and I have visited many times in the last several years. Voice is the part of a person that allows them to "just say no". We have a voice from the day we are born; however, it usually isn't the kind of "voice" folks want to hear too much from.

When we are born our voice comes out in a variety of noises—such as crying or laughing. Baby voices are very honest, truthful and to the point. When our needs are met we laugh, and quite frankly there is nothing as special as a baby who laughs. One of my best memories from being a mom is when Meg laughed. She laughed with her whole spirit, her entire heart, with every minute part of herself. Her laugh started at her toes and rolled through her entire body. And anyone who heard her laugh, laughed with her. They say children are honest and I would say whoever "they" are, they are correct. A child laughs and the world laughs with them.

When our needs are not met as a child we cry. The longer our needs are not met, the louder we cry. This is the voice most folks don't want to hear too much of. The cry of a child is like the laugh of a child. It reaches right down within me and I respond. I want to make whatever it is better.

Some things are easy to make better. I can change the diaper or offer my breast or warm up the bottle. Other needs are not so easy to make better. When a baby has a tummy ache, I can hold him or her and rub his or her little back, but I can't make the pain go away. When teeth are coming in I can use ice to help with the pain, yet I cannot make the pain go away. When a child falls down and cuts their knees, I can clean them up, put on bandages, and yet I cannot make the pain go away.

When my daughter was a baby she had an immature digestive system, so each time she ate, she was in pain. The first three months of her life she not only cried, she screamed. She cried until she was too exhausted to cry anymore and then she would fall asleep for about 12 hours. I could rock her, hold her, sing to her, rub her tummy, and yet I could not make the pain go away. I could take her to doctor after doctor, try suggestion after suggestion, read book after book—and yet I could not make the pain go away.

Now, I'm not telling you all this because I want sympathy or because I want you to feel sorry for me. I am establishing my credibility, so to speak; supporting my thesis, if you will.

Some of the suggestions I collected while I was doing my best to stop my daughter's pain was along the lines of: There isn't anything wrong with her. Just put her in her crib and let her cry, and eventually she'll learn to stop getting attention by crying.

Huh? You want me to do what? I think in the old days they called this the Dr. Spock method. No…not Mr. Spock! Mr. Spock would just do a mind meld and come up with some miraculous solution to the problem! <LOL>

Perhaps this is one way we lose our voice. My mother and my aunt gave me that advice, among countless other mature adults who'd had and raised children. And quite frankly, neither my mother nor my aunt was anything except loving and caring parents to me. I learned to love from them, and that says a whole lot and needs no explanation.

When we are children someone has to teach us use our voice. Not have a voice, simply use it in a constructive manner.

And just as we can teach a child to use their voice, we can also teach a child to not use their voice.

I can give you many examples from my own childhood where I was taught not to use my voice, everything from—you're not hurt (I'm not?) to; stop being a cry baby (I am?) to; don't wear your feelings on your sleeve (What do I do with them?).

Our society is filled with wise old adages<snort>:

• Grin and bear it
  
• Put some steel in your spine
  
• Keep a stiff upper lip
  
• Never let them see you sweat
  
• I'll give you something to cry about
  
• Boys will be boys
  
• No pain, no gain
  
• Pain is weakness leaving the body (Thank you Reba for that one)
  

So here I am, almost 53 years old and I still can't say "This is hurting me more than helping me. What can we do differently?" I look at that and think it sounds so easy and straightforward. It isn't even impolite. It is a rather no-brainer request. If anyone else had come to me with this same scenario I would have asked them why they didn't ask the therapist to stop because they were in pain.

Thus the saying—physician heal thyself.

I don't have a very good voice because my parents taught me not to have a voice. Not intentionally and I sure don't have any blame to lie at their doorstep. They did what they knew to do, and I have to say this about my parents—when they learned better they did do better. And yes, that is a paraphrase from Maya Angelou 's "…when you knew better... you did better!"

Because I did not learn to have a voice, my daughter did not learn to have a voice. I am so proud that she has learned to have her voice and is teaching me and other people to find theirs.

We teach our children how to use their voice or not. As parents we teach our children how to use their voice with integrity—or not.

And from where I am standing, integrity always begins with self. First self, then other. I cannot give what I do not have. I cannot teach what I do not have.

So, here I sit recovering from an injury that did not get taken care of properly because I did not have a voice; because I have laryngitis of the spirit when it comes to health and balance in my own life. The really cool thing about being an adult is that we can choose what we want to keep from our childhood teachings. The cool thing about growing up is we can learn whatever we want to learn. Some things are easier to learn than others things, and yet we can learn. "…when [I] knew better…[I] did better!"

 

Inspiration

What inspires a person to keep on keeping on when there seems to be no reason to keep going?

Good question. One I don't have answer for.

For myself, I've always used my relationship to nature. Nature seems to bring me back to what is real in my life--what honestly matters in my life. Nature lifts my heart, opens my heart, fills my heart with love and joy and all sorts of things. Nature makes me smile involuntarily. In other words, it makes me smile whether I feel like smiling or not.

There was many times in Alaska when I didn't know if I could go on or even why I should go on. I don’t know about other people, and this person can only use live for other people for so long—only live for responsibility or because people love and depend on me for so long. In the end, when it comes down to reality, this person can only live for herself.

First for myself, and then for others.

I lived away from Fairbanks in a small place named Salcha. It was about 35 miles or so south of the city. And on that road, once you get past the air force base, there is a curve. You come around the curve and the whole mountain range opens up in front of you. And it doesn’t matter if it is summer, break up, winter or fall, if the sky is clear there is an enormous white mountain that dominates the skies. It is a breathtaking scene and one that will live on inside me forever...and if I forget, I have a picture.

There was a time when I would come around that curve and not see that mountain because I was so immersed in myself and my sorrows. I was blind to everything except for what was going on in my head. I was going through the motions of living. I'm sure everyone has had these times in their lives to one degree or another.

When I became aware of not seeing that beautiful mountain I realized I needed to do something and do something quick. I needed to find my inspiration. Find my soul, my heart, my love, my strength. I needed to do that for me, so I could also do it for my daughter and for the other people I love.

Most of all, I needed to do that for me. Because if I don't have it for myself, I cannot give it to anyone else.

So after that, each time I came around that curve, I made myself look—really look. I made myself get out of my head and pay attention to this incredible wonder that stood like an enormous guardian looking down over the world. At first, my response was--yeah, there it is and it is beautiful. Okay, Rome wasn't built in a day, eh?

As the days went on, I became more and more in touch with the beauty of the scene and the beauty of the world, and eventually the beauty within myself.

I’ve been able to translate that insight into other places I have lived. Granted, some places are easier than others. Living in the city can make it more difficult and yet, I always find something. In this new place there is a tree right outside my patio that is glorious. When I'm feeling out of sorts I stop and make myself really look at my tree until I can find that place inside that is truly thankful for that tree. And that thankfulness works its way out into my heart and into my mind and into my emotions, and suddenly I find myself smiling. Sometimes through tears, sometimes not. It truly doesn't matter.

So, where do you find your inspiration? What moves you forward when you want to lay down and quit? What do you use for a ladder to climb up out of the hole you might find yourself in so you can see the light?

Occupation??

So, I'm on unemployment now. I can't tell you how long it has been since I even qualified for unemployment...

I get form in the mail and they tell me I have to come see them and fill out this questionnaire. Cool! 'Cause I have a whole lot of questions and am not having much luck getting them answered.

First question on the questionnaire:
List your usual occupation/ Length of experience/ Last rate of pay

Usual occupation? Length of experience? Okay … well, I’ve been working as an accounting clerk for about 2-1/2 to 3 years, yet that isn’t my “usual” occupation. My usual occupation is homemaker.

So I wrote:
List your usual occupation /Length of experience /Last rate of pay
Accounting Clerk  -- 3 years  -- $18.00 an hour
Homemaker  -- 26 years  --  $ 0.00 an hour

Now I know that isn’t what they really asking and yet…yet it is the truth and they can do with the truth what they will. Perhaps it will serve to make a point. I am exhausted from attempting to be something that I am not so that I can pay my bills and not live on credit because I can’t find a job that will pay me for my skills.

One of those other questions was what kind of job was I seeking. I wrote that I was seeking a job in the field I have a degree in--Human Services.

I obtained a degree in human services because that is where my skills are. I have a wealth of experience and education in human services. I just haven’t been paid for it since 1982 or thereabouts. When I was putting those jobs on my resume (before bookkeeping) I had to laugh, or cry, because the people who an employer might have called for references and recommendation are no longer around. The facility I worked in is no longer around. Even the supervisor I worked under with the State Department of Mental Health is no longer around.

I’m in a real “don’t mess with me” mood about employment and experience and all that stuff today. I’m fired up. They want to make sure I know how to look for a job. I know how to look for a job. I was looking for a job before most of them were out of diapers.

What I want to know from the Employment Development Department is this—how do you get someone to hire you for the job you are good at and trained at. So yes, I put down my usual occupation as homemaker because that is where my experience lies and it makes a huge point that cannot be ignored.

Housewife? Homemaker?

In 1991 I got married and moved to Alaska with my daughter. For the first couple of weeks I remember feeling like I was made to be a housewife. Not that I've ever really enjoyed drudge work, mind you, but simply because I could actually do it and find a sense of accomplishment. I mean, let's face facts here! In 1991 and previously, I didn't feel like I had much to offer. Yes, a whole lot of love to give and even then a wisdom that was both hard-earned as well as from years of study. But when it came to being able to do the basics things like provide monetarily for my daughter ... well, quite frankly I sucked at it. Providing monetarily for anyone (including myself!) does not appear to be my bailiwick in life.

Don't get me wrong here. It isn't that I don't have strengths. I do and I'm aware of them. Nevertheless, bringing home the bacon, or as I tease John now bringing home the chocolate, is not among my strengths.
Eventually, I became disenchanted with being a housewife. I figured this was because

I just wasn't cut out to be a housewife either. Ah, those tricky little voices in my head. I call them the demon voices.
Now, in the present, I find myself at least temporarily taking care of the house and I once again have this feeling that I'm good at it and I'm getting a sense of accomplishment from doing it.

Then the demon voice cuts into my head and reminds me I thought that once before and ended up hating it because ... because why? It’s a good question to ask when the demon voices are chanting, so I do it. Is what I’m thinking reality or not? What is the truth factor in my thoughts? I mean, somehow one must determine the difference between the devils and the angels.

My middle sister's voice provides one answer: Because it is boring.
Well yeah, I guess. It is rather boring when you are limited to washing dishes, cooking dinners, doing laundry, cleaning bathrooms, etc. Especially when those tasks take place in a one-bedroom apartment and for only two people, and one of those people tends to help out a whole lot even though he works fulltime. It means there isn’t a whole lot to do!

On the other hand, going to work every day and inputting data for people who absolutely do not appreciate what you do for them and how it enhances their lives is not only boring, it is frustrating and causes bitterness to arise.
My own voice comes back in and I remember before we moved to the LA area, being so afraid—Afraid of a new area, afraid of all the traffic, afraid of not knowing where I would be, afraid of not being able to find a job ...simply afraid. Humph. My own voice is the demon voice, yes?

I knew this was a good move and I knew I needed to trust myself to work it all out. So I asked myself how I'd coped with moves before and came up with--by making a home. Ah, the angel voice!

I've lived in a several different places since 1991. I spent a great deal of that time in Alaska; however, I relocated to Rhode Island and then to Northern California and now finally back to Southern California. Not exactly where I grew up, but a whole lot closer than Rhode Island and Alaska! The one thing I was always able to do was make a home for myself, if not for anyone else.

And all this thinking comes down to this--semantically, at least for me (and semantics is all about my interpretation) there is a great deal of difference in being a housewife and a homemaker. A housewife is married to the house. Houses are rather boring, don't you think? And they can fall down around you if they aren't taken care of. They can be taken away from you if you can't pay the mortgage. They can burn down, blow up, and have leaky roofs...all sorts of things.

A homemaker, though. One can make a home where ever they are. A home doesn't actually depend upon a house or some type of dwelling. Look at the Buddha who purportedly sat on a roadside and had no abode. Or, how about the Christ who wandered here and yon for years? From all I've read, I'd say these two people did have a home even though they didn’t go home every night to a house.

(And before you start wondering if I’m a religious person, the answer is no. I am, however, deeply spiritual and adore studying religions of the world and finding what rings true to me. Because after all, it’s all about me! To paraphrase Harry Dresden, as said through Jim Butcher—I’m nonpartisan.)

To continue ….a home comes from a sense of belonging and a loving heart. A person can have the most comfortable abode in the world with everything their heart desires inside it, and still be missing the important part--the home. A home does not have to even include more than one person because the sense of belonging and the loving heart resides inside self. This is shared with other people, yet does not depend upon other people.

I became dissatisfied with being a housewife in Alaska because I wasn't making a home. I was taking care of a man who didn't appreciate what I could bring to a partnership. I was taking care of a dwelling where I had no sense of belonging. I was living in a place where those I loved with all my heart were not appreciated or cared for, and where I myself was not appreciated or cared for. And I was too…brainwashed by the demon voices to even see what was happening.

Now an author would bring this to a conclusion; however, I don’t have to do that because this is my blog and my thoughts and I get to play by my rules, and my rules are … Other Wise. I’ll let you bring things to your own conclusion because in truth, we are all other wise.

The new adventure....

I have a group of friend who I call my hussy sisters because of how we met. They are the sisters of my soul. The people who I can say anything to and know they won't stab me in the back simply because they don't agree. They are my family. They are my family because my family is the same way. We may not always get along or agree and yet, they also aren't going to stab me in the back just because I am ... me.

One of those hussy sisters, made us tee shirts one summer and mine said, in essence, that some of us are wise and some of us are other wise. What an insightful person my hussy sister is. I wonder if she realizes just how insightful she is?

Thus the name of my blog--TK's Other Wise Thoughts--because I am definitely Other Wise and proud of being so.

I've never blogged before. I've never really had an urge or a need. I was thinking, though, that perhaps when the need to communicate my strange thought processes, blogging could come in handy.

The hussy sisters and my sisters of the blood (as opposed to soul) and come to think about it, the rest of my blood family too, think I can write.

The hussy sisters and I get into a debate about me writing on occasion. To the point where I actually sat down and co-authored two stories with the sister-of-my-soul, Nicole Austin. Now she's is a proven author and a writer, and I'm quite proud that she helped me co-author our stories!

I do write. I actually love to write. I suppose if I really wanted to be an author, I could put my nose to the grind stone and be an author. However, I'm not one of those people who dream up plots and situations and answer the question "what if".

That doesn't mean that I can't write or don't write. It simply means that I write what I write when I write it and it tends to be free flowing and perhaps inspirational to some who read it.

You could say that as a writer I am ... Other Wise! I crack myself up some times.