Posts Tagged ‘love’

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Alchemy – Thoughts About Healing That “Life We Learn With”

April 29, 2026

“You know, I believe we have two lives. The one we learn with, and the one we live with after that.”
From the movie, The Natural

If ever a statement gave me hope that I COULD learn, catch up to others, and end up with a good life, it was this one. It was only a fleeting moment. After all, it was 1984, that most horrible year after I got out of my parents’ house, and I plunged into a pit of suicidal despair. But still, that one sentence gave me pause. And sometimes a pause makes all the difference in whether you stay or go….

I would also add this newer quote:

“With the clarity you have now, it is easy to look back and think: ‘I should have known better.’ But you couldn’t have. Because you only know now what time has taught you, and back then, you were only doing the best you could with what you knew.”
@SimonAlexanderO / tinybuddha.com

I’ve been told by more than one therapist that what I considered my past “failures” were simply me doing the best I could in the moment, to blindly learn all that I’d been prevented from learning by my father’s abuse. Each emphasized again and again, that I really had been doing the best I could at any moment.

It’s taken until now to really believe that. Oh, that I had believed this, years ago…. But I do now, and I am hopeful.

What IS alchemy and why do I bother with it?

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It’s All About “the View”

April 26, 2026

Pegmatite

I am a rock person. Growing up in boulder-strewn “New England,” that’s probably not a surprise. But I am always fascinated by the wide range of textures, mineral compositions, and appearances in all of them. But pegmatite is a particular favorite.

For one, it was born from intense fire and pressure. I know how it feels.

Volcanic magma was forced under high pressure into granite fissures underground. There it cooled slowly, taking eons to become its final “self.”

Again, I know that feeling. It’s taken me a lifetime to distill into my current form.

Second, it is complex. Because it cooled slowly, it is composed of concentrated amounts of a wide range of minerals and chemicals. While other rocks shot out of the volcano and cooled quickly, the liquid that formed pegmatite was the soup of all kinds of leftover minerals that just sank to the bottom of the magma. To look at a piece of pegmatite is to see that it has many facets — dull whites, sparkling flecks, glassy surfaces, and deep mysterious blacks.

And it is precisely this complexity that makes it valuable industrially. It contains such a wide range of chemicals and minerals that its uses range from gemstones and ceramics to microchips and aerospace components.

Maybe the same is true of all of us, especially those of us who were born of fire and pressure and had to wait a long time in life to become “us”?

Photo by author
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The Most Important Tool: “Right Mind”

April 23, 2026

That path…

For ten years, I studied Buddhism. It helped me release some of my fears. My anger at God. It gave me a new way to look at what happened to me. How to understand and embrace pain in life. And it gave me a path toward healing and opening my heart.

That path was called the “Eightfold Path” in reference to the eight steps one could take to learn, grow, and heal. When I wrote the title above, I immediately flashed back to that Buddhist training and realized that more than a couple of those steps applied here.

Not a bitch session

The journey through this part of my writing is a journey into the unknown. It winds through darkness and descent, into that “soul’s underworld” spoken of in mythology and religion — the journey for understanding, meaning, transformation, and rebirth. In a bit, I’ll write more about that “Descent to the Underworld,” and what my journey there taught me. But first, I’ll revisit those Buddhist tools.

I call this piece “Right Mind” because it’s essential that I approach this whole phase of the book in the right way if I want to find peace. This part is not a bitch session or a blind casting of rage and blame. For sure, I won’t let anyone off the hook, and that includes myself. But there is just raging, and then there is a balanced review of what life has been and what it can teach.

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Addendum to the “Order Post” – Reclaiming the Bed…

April 17, 2026

In the previous post, I described my process to use “order” in this last section of the book to reach all the meaning and insights.

I showed this image of a bed covered with folders and notes, which I described as “all my clues” to who I am, at heart, and who I am becoming. That bed, with all those items, is my “power base” for healing.

Photo by author

But it was my husband who REALLY nailed a symbolism that I totally missed.

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Using Order To Revel in Chaos, So I Can Find a New Order?

April 15, 2026

I’ve been quiet the last few days with no new posts. But that doesn’t mean there wasn’t a lot of “incubation” and “percolation” going on. What was born of all that work is a possible path now through this last section of the book-writing.

Order so you can revel in chaos?

Yesterday, I listened to a podcast by writer Ryan Holiday. His focus, both in his books and speeches, is on the philosophy of Stoicism. I’ll speak more of that later, but for now, its basic premises involve being aware of your mortality, not wasting precious time, and focusing on what is in your power to control while letting go of things that aren’t. But it was one thing he said in the podcast that nailed where I am at in my writing process right now.

This last phase of my book feels like a chaos. There are so many threads that my life story has raised, and now I need to draw them together into meaningful insights and answers. But looking at the piles of paintings and folders scattered before me in this picture, I just wondered — where do I start? How do I do this well…logically…and give my readers meaning?

NOTE: All photos below are by the author

Holiday, in his podcast, talked about the need to have an orderly workspace. Because if you can organize your workspace and materials, then you are free to dive into the chaos that is the actual work. Order is what makes being in chaos possible. It sounds counterintuitive, but it made total sense to me.

The piles on the bed in my workroom are the chaos I’ve always felt in my life. They are the reason I needed to write, the clues to solve the mystery that is me: How to understand my life, and answer questions like, “How did I survive, why, and what does it all mean?” So I know that my ultimate truths and peace are in those folders. But HOW to access that?

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A “Course Correction” on the “Autopsy” Metaphor

April 8, 2026

Emerging from the cornfield

Yesterday’s post compared this part of the work to performing an autopsy and writing the final report. But while it “can work,” it didn’t feel quite right. While it is a logical metaphor given my science background, it is too “left-brained, cerebral. What is really needed is a much more emotional and soulful one.

Instead, I keep coming back to this part of the book being the Midrash. The “extra part” that adds the soulful pieces that the story couldn’t tell.

It’s funny, but as I was sensing these things, my husband came to me and questioned the autopsy metaphor, too. He correctly pointed out that I am not dead, not by a long shot, nor is my story done. “You are a survivor,” he said, like a person who was in a symbolic “plane crash.” “And out of the rubble, smoke, debris, and bodies, somehow you walked out of that carnage toward the helpers and are still embracing life.”

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2008 – The Break, Part I: The Present and Past Collide, With a Vengeance

March 12, 2026

Painting by author

Unglued

In 1984, I was walking every night, trying not to kill myself. I had to start life all over again.
In 2008, I was afraid to get off the couch, and having an emotional breakdown. And again, I was having to start life over.

Both times, I was at the end of my rope, hanging by a thread, not wanting to be dead, but wondering what else there was in life, and if I had any value.

I was consumed by a level of anxiety I’d never experienced before. It was so bad, I was afraid to get out of bed in the morning — dreaded starting another day of pain. But I was too afraid to stay in bed. Yet I couldn’t wait for the day to be over so I could get back in bed, and when I did, I only felt safe on my stomach, propped up on elbows, watching the same video over and over again on a small portable player while Ed watched TV.

Almost every night for months, it was the Pixar movie, “A Bug’s Life.” It was safe, all the ants worked together, and there was nothing scary or provocative. And the best part, the part I wanted to be in, was the big sleeping chamber where all the ants rested, sleeping safely and comfortably in their little hammocks. It was snuggly, all of them there together, safe from any threats. Just the security of being there together with all of their friends. I so wished I could live with them.

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The Warrior Years – Battling Dad – Part I

February 21, 2026

“She would of been a good woman,” The Misfit said, “if it had been somebody there to shoot her every minute of her life.”

Flannery O’Connor, story, “A Good Man is Hard to Find”

He woulda been a good man if…

It was that same book I was given by one of my elementary school nuns from her college English course. The one that opened my mind to the wide new world of literature. The one I drank up like it was water, and I was dying of thirst.

There was that one story in the book, though, by Flannery O’Connor, called “A Good Man is Hard to Find.” I was both repelled by it because of its violence and unwillingly, but powerfully drawn to it. I could never let it go. All my life, it gnawed at me, but I never knew why.

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The Warrior Years – What About Women?

February 14, 2026

Rebirth

As impossible as it may have seemed, we made it. Despite managing marriage, parenthood, jobs, caring for his parents, and fighting mine… despite all the odds, Ed and I stuck with therapy, and it started working.

In looking back at my journal entries and talking with Ed about all the things I’ve written here, we both just shook our heads. Both of us agree that we don’t know how we did it, and that it is flat-out amazing that we made it through those years. But we did. And we are both deeply grateful now.

As our love and marriage grew stronger, it would show up in small ways. It was especially telling on one occasion when we bought a new tree for the front yard of our home. Our son said that because the tree was part of our family, it needed a name. So he promptly called it “Ralph.” I have no idea why.

But then Ed spoke up and added to its name the words, “the passion tree.” Ralph, The Passion Tree. I looked at him, and he just said, “Ralph is a symbol of our growth…a testament to the changes that are happening in both of us, and in our marriage.”

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The Warrior Years – Stretched Too Thin – The End of a Friendship

February 9, 2026

The mid-90s were hell on wheels in terms of intensity.

Ed and I were doing the marital classes and working to build a new relationship between us. Our son was having trouble at school. There were stresses with bills and jobs. Ed’s parents were getting sicker, which required periodic trips home, and we were also doing regular therapy to focus on our specific issues and my healing from abuse. Oh, and yes, we were waging battles again with my dad about his interactions with the kids in the family. Then, my friend called.

That phone call

I was about to step into the shower.

My husband stood in the bathroom doorway. “She’s on the phone.”

Every fiber in my body cringed. She’d been my friend. She helped nurture me when I was suicidal. She helped me over the hurdle of sex. But things had not been right for a long time.

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