tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-231224632024-03-16T00:08:58.131-07:00Wrong WordsEssays and poetry about domestic abuseWayne Lemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18024771201561767893noreply@blogger.comBlogger81125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23122463.post-67648160440450734362008-12-14T21:17:00.000-08:002008-12-18T10:50:39.117-08:00I drove awayThe first few days at my parents' house went well, perhaps the best of any visit I have had with them. Dad enjoyed the birthday dinner we had with him. My brother and nephew were able to be there also.<br /><br />On Tuesday evening I was able to do some language research with my father. I recorded a number of words from his first language.<br /><br />I helped clean things around the house. My brother and nephew did a lot of cleaning when they were there on the weekend, also.<br /><br />The lady who had been coming to help Mom bathe had notified Dad that she was limited on time because she has so many children to take care of. So I followed up by calling some agencies that a local doctor had suggested might be able to provide help. One of them had an in-home care worker who did not currently have any clients. The lady and her supervisor were happy to come for an evaluation and interview time Wednesday morning. Before they came Dad started getting tense, saying that he didn't need help, even though everyone else knows he does and he often tells us by phone how difficult it is for him to take care of Mom. The appointment went OK. Dad agreed to help one day a week. He paid the required two weeks in advance.<br /><br />Not too long after the ladies left Dad exploded in a rage. It caught me off guard. It was like his rages when I was younger. He swore saying all the resource people could "go to hell." I instantly decided that I did not want to listen to any more of his raging. I quickly, quietly packed up my things, told goodbye to both Mom and Dad and drove off. I cried for miles, wishing that Dad would not have raged again. I cried wishing that things were different. I was able to cry, something I could not do when Dad raged when I was younger and when he beat me. And this time I could set a boundary for myself and leave. It hurt to leave, but I did. And I knew, somehow, that I had done the right thing.<br /><br />I called one of my cousins who knows my story and who has experienced spousal abuse for many years and told her what had happened, and cried with her. She was the first person to tell me I did the right thing. What a good thing to hear even though I felt so sad. My cousin asked me if I had planned to leave if my father had raged and I said no, but that I had had a number of dreams in which I had wrestled with what to do when my father was raging. Perhaps that wrestling, as a recovering adult, had helped me so that when the bad time came I was able to leave.<br /><br />It took me more than four hours to drive the wintery roads to get to my brother's house. I got to talk to my wife by phone. She cried with me as I told her what had happened. She, also, was totally supportive and told me I had done the right thing.<br /><br />I still feel sad, but I feel freer. My father may think I am mad at him. Anger is how people in our big family system tried to control each other. But I'm not mad at him. I feel so very sad for him. He is missing out on getting better help to deal with the difficulties of taking care of Mom and their house. I wish I could change him so that he would take the help, but I can't. I'll continue to try to get him help, but I'll continue to try to do it in a way that he feels he is in charge, making decisions. That seems to be very important to him, not losing control. He has already suffered some big losses, losing his driver's license, Mom not having the mind she used to have anymore, her losing continence, their house being dirty and smelly from urine (but he has lost much of his usual keen sense of smell so he doesn't think their house is in bad shape). When the point comes that they actually are in danger from having such a bad living situation, we'll have to intervene, even if he rages. Maybe doctors will have to give Dad something to calm him at that point.<br /><br />Life is sometimes difficult. I don't feel great about how my trip ended up. But I still think I did the right thing driving away, quietly, but resolutely. And if that's right, I progressed a little more on this trip.Wayne Lemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18024771201561767893noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23122463.post-53441456449214429952008-12-04T22:47:00.001-08:002008-12-04T22:56:40.091-08:00cold and trip feelingsI've got a cold in my larynx. I'm starting to cough more. I'm thinking of calling the airlines tomorrow to see if I can postpone my flight to visit my parents this weekend and next week. Sunday will be Dad's 91st birthday. Dad doesn't like anyone coughing around him, or blowing their noses. There's so many things he doesn't like.<br /><br />A couple of nights ago as my wife and I started eating supper I told her that I had just had a session of emotions that felt like the dread of anxiety I get before public speaking, which, if not treated with my little meds, turns into a panic attack. As I explained what I had felt I started crying, a hard cry, like I haven't cried in a long time. I told her I didn't want to visit my parents. I didn't want to have to walk around on pins and needles all the time trying not to upset Dad. Then in that transparent state I switched to childhood and told her it was too much of a burden to bear for a kid, getting treated so badly by Dad. My wife cried with me. I think it was good to cry, cathartic. I think maybe I'm getting the focus of my grief and anger on Dad, where it belongs, rather than on other people who I've dumped on sometimes.<br /><br />I hate to write these things because I'm afraid some might not understand and will tell me I shouldn't be angry at my father or, after all these many years, shouldn't have a feeling of not wanting to visit them. I hate being condemned by others. I've lived with it all my life, getting blamed for so much by my father and then it was so difficult to accept criticism from others.<br /><br />I do love Dad, so I have mixed feelings. I want to help him have a happy birthday. But I don't enjoy having to be so careful all the time not to upset him. I would like a freer life, the kind of life I have most of the time with my wife, children, and grandchildren. I like my new life.Wayne Lemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18024771201561767893noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23122463.post-79493255374087790692008-11-19T12:19:00.000-08:002008-11-19T12:21:50.798-08:00flyingI had another vivid dream about flying two nights ago. Not flying in an airplane, but me actually flying, or, more accurately, gliding. This time I even tried to do a backwards somersault, but couldn't quite get all the way over.<br /><br />I have no idea what the dream meant, if anything, but it was fun, better than my dreams where I still wrestle with issues from the abuse.Wayne Lemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18024771201561767893noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23122463.post-74218605198293747492008-11-03T11:10:00.000-08:002008-11-03T11:14:13.483-08:00panic attacksYesterday I told my growth group that I have had panic attacks before public speaking. I added that they are connected to my father's not allowing me to make mistakes. He would beat me physically and/or verbally if I made a mistake. In the growth group no one condemned me. It looks like there are people in the world who don't condemn.Wayne Lemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18024771201561767893noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23122463.post-73571401618830024992008-09-23T11:24:00.000-07:002008-09-23T11:25:46.472-07:00Sharon Wallace's blogToday while nosing around on Facebook, I found a link to a powerful book by Sharon Wallace. She has <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/blog/A7P8YFOE45P66/ref=cm_blog_dp_artist_blog">a blog on amazon.com</a> which promotes her book.Wayne Lemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18024771201561767893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23122463.post-32743686567542853382008-05-10T16:31:00.000-07:002008-05-10T16:38:52.168-07:00fathers that provoke their childrenToday I came across a blog post about <a href="http://audiosermon.blogspot.com/2008/05/bringng-up-believers_05.html">The Top Ten Ways that Parents Provoke their Children to Wrath</a>. I felt sad when I read it because so many of the points in the list were things my father did. I remember my father preaching at us that we needed to obey our parents because it says so in the Bible. I also remember, probably after I had learned to read, thinking that that same part of the Bible tells fathers not to provoke their children to wrath. I didn't know if my father had provoked me to wrath. I had to hide or stuff any wrath I might have had at that point. But I do remember thinking that it wasn't fair that my father preached to me about obedience. (I was very obedient and wanted to be, as well as I knew if I weren't I would be beaten.) But I also felt that it wasn't fair that my father didn't pay much attention to the rest of that part of the Bible, telling father how not to relate to their children so that it would produce bad feelings within them. I emailed my wife the link to that list and told her that I wish my father had done it differently. She emailed me back that she understood why I had said that. (We do live in the same house but we email each other things that we consider important or that the other person needs to know.)Wayne Lemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18024771201561767893noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23122463.post-19981316632457300902008-03-31T13:21:00.000-07:002008-03-31T13:32:24.326-07:00FacebookI joined Facebook recently. There are a number of Facebook groups that focus on the needs of us abuse survivors.<br /><br />If you are already a member of Facebook, I invite you to become a Facebook Friend. Try <a href="http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1163597329">clicking here</a> to get to my Facebook profile. Then click on a Facebook link to send me an invitation to be your Friend. You can look in the lower left margin of my Facebook profile to see some of the groups I have joined that are concerned about abuse issues.<br /><br />If you are not a member of Facebook, you might enjoy becoming part of the Facebook community (there are many good things on Facebook besides a lot of things which are not good for us). <a href="http://www.facebook.com">Click here</a> to sign up for Facebook.<br /><br />There is strength in being part of a community of survivors.Wayne Lemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18024771201561767893noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23122463.post-82349076983162301302008-03-18T14:34:00.001-07:002008-03-18T14:49:39.776-07:00No news is ..."No news is good news," they say. Has it really been since November that I have posted here? I did draft one post about forgiveness several weeks ago, but I never got around to completing it. Sometimes I've wondered if that means I still have farther to travel on the forgiveness road. It's really difficult for me to say. I think I have fully released my father from any further obligation to me, for him to somehow make amends for how he abused me. And yet I still find myself waiting fairly long before I call him by phone again to see how he and Mom are doing. I don't know what that's about, either. I guess sometimes we don't always understand how we are doing on our recovery journey.<br /><br />I've been feeling pretty well for quite a few weeks. I've been pacing myself, not acting too addictively. I continue to deeply appreciate our friends in the growth group my wife and I attend. We are all needy there and each one is willing to try to help whoever is hurting. All are at various points on their own journeys of recovery. It's not a recovery group, per se, but in one way or another, each of us is in recovery. (Actually, I've been discovering that more people are in recovery or need to be that I had ever realized when I was younger.)<br /><br />I have been spending quality time via IM chat with a dear friend who is going through a critical time in recovery. I'm learning it's OK not to know what to say sometimes. And also that it's OK not to say something when we don't have anything to say. I'm glad that sometimes just being there is a comfort to the other. I know it has been for me during some of my most difficult times.<br /><br />I did much better than I have in the past this morning operating under stress. My wife forgot an alcohol swab to clean her skin to get an injection to help with the disease she is battling. She told me that as we were headed to a 9 a.m. appointment for me with a doctor. I didn't get upset with her this time. I even pulled off the street and popped into a grocery store to buy some alcohol swabs. I looked for some time but couldn't find them. So I grabbed a antiseptic wash that I thought might work. I paid for it. My wife used it and was appreciative. Then we ended up on the 7th floor of the doctors building, which was the right floor, but the wrong hospital. Tomorrow's appointment for my wife will be at the first place we went to today. The receptionists were nice at the first place and telephoned the right place to say I would arrive late. It all worked out fine and my blood pressure level was even down to normal by the time my intake nurse took my b.p. We made it. My doctor was 45 minutes late and apologized for being late. I told him, "It's all right. We were late too."<br /><br />Growth is often slow, and sometimes comes in spurts. But it can keep happening. I want it to. My wife appreciates my efforts. And I now feel free to give myself a pat on the back sometimes, as I just did in this post. It feels good. I hope you are experiencing some things in your life that feel good for you, too.Wayne Lemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18024771201561767893noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23122463.post-40171138894260078932007-11-25T22:56:00.000-08:002007-11-25T22:58:44.048-08:00Letters to My Abuser project<div> <div><span>Here's an important announcement for those of you who have been victims of sexual abuse:<br /></span></div></div><blockquote><div><div><span>I am a survivor/author working on a collection of letters from survivors to their abusers. I am making my last minute rounds on blogs, hoping to find letters I can use in the collection which will be published as a ebook and later as a printed book. If you think you might be interested in participating, please visit the project site for submission guidelines: <a title="http://www.letterstomyabusers.com/" href="http://www.letterstomyabusers.com/">www.letterstomyabusers.com</a>.</span></div> <div><span>Take care, keep healing and growing.</span></div> <div><span>Lovingly,</span></div> <div><span>Stephanie<span pt="" family="SANSSERIF" style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;" lang="0" ><u><br /><b><a href="http://www.myvoiceoftruth.com/">www.myvoiceoftruth.com</a><br /><a href="http://www.letterstomyabusers.com/">www.letterstomyabusers.com</a></b></u></span></span></div></div> <div><span> </span></div> </blockquote><div><span><span pt="" family="SANSSERIF" style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;" lang="0" ><u><b><a href="http://www.letterstomyabusers.com/"></a></b><u><br /></u></u></span><br /></span></div>Wayne Lemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18024771201561767893noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23122463.post-59240034680496522012007-10-30T10:28:00.001-07:002007-10-30T10:32:04.526-07:00Charles SchultzLast night I watched a PBS program about Charles Schultz, the creator of the Peanuts cartoon strip. I was touched by the program. It told how Mr. Schultz often wondered if people loved him for who he was, not just for being rich and famous as a cartoonist. He seemed not to have gotten words of affirmation when he was young and needed them from others. It reminded me of myself. I went to bed in a contemplative mood after having watched the program.Wayne Lemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18024771201561767893noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23122463.post-36282695571633058532007-09-27T22:27:00.000-07:002007-09-28T07:48:49.314-07:00Will I ever feel good?Recovery can be difficult and long. Sometimes we may wonder, "Will I ever feel good?" A friend who is also in recovery just asked that question. Following is my answer based on what I've been experiencing since beginning therapy 18 years ago:<br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;">We Americans (and probably many other people, also) put a high priority on "feeling good." We try to get that feeling through all kinds of ways, nicer car, bigger house, changing spouses, changing jobs, taking drugs, etc. In some religious traditions the goal is not to feel good but to become more honest with oneself. In some religions the goal is even to suffer more, so that one can get closer to a better spiritual state. (I'm not so sure that we should look for suffering, but I do think that coping with suffering can be a special part of our spiritual journey.)<br /><br />Suffering from abuse and neglect and abandonment is terrible. This kind of suffering should never happen, especially by those who are supposed to love and protect us. But it does happen. I think our goal in therapy is to become more open with ourselves about what happened, to face the reality, to feel the anger that we could not feel when it was happening, to grieve our loss, to try to learn to survive as an adult without what was lost. I'm not sure that our goal is to feel better. If it were, perhaps we should be taking tranquilizers, which is what many doctors used to prescribe and some still do. They can make us feel better. But they also numb out the bad feelings which will return when the tranquilizers wear off.<br /><br />I don't know if we can ever stop grieving our losses. But I have heard that the pain lessens, that we can shift our focus to other things in life which are healthy for us and in service to others and to ourselves, giving ourselves time to love ourselves, to recharge, to relax, to be with people who are emotionally healthy. I think eventually when pain lessens we probably do feel some better, but I'm not sure that that is the goal. If it is, we may get impatient getting there and might not walk through all the steps needed so that our minds and bodies can learn new patterns of thinking, reacting, and behaving. I think it is a long slow process. And I'm not sure that the pain ever completely goes away. But I also think that the feeling of pain and loss is not the opposite of the kind of feeling we are searching for, even if we do not know exactly what we are searching for. I suspect that what we are really searching for is more like peace and joy, rather than feeling good.<br /><br />Feeling good is a temporary emotion, often based on our circumstances, our life cycles, food we eat, how much sleep we get, etc. But there is, I think, an emotion something like feeling good (probably a combination of peace and joy, I'm guessing) which we can have at the same time as we feel some pain. I suspect that joy is something we experience more by choice and feeling good is something we experience more as our body's chemical reaction to our circumstances. That chemical reaction results in something our emotions interpret as feeling good.<br /><br />I think I have begun to experience some of this more peaceful, relaxed feeling. I don't feel so driven as I used to be, an addictive drivenness which tried to cover up my pain and a fear of feeling bad as I could hear old tapes running through my brain, and feel bad about myself with the lies I learned when I was abused. I'm not on a high now. I've tried to have highs in the past, from work, from achievement, from meeting some goal. But I'm not on a low either. I'm more level. I think it's more of a normal feeling, a sense that I don't have to do something artificial to make myself feel better, to drive out the bad feelings. Am I still sad about what I lost in the past, about the loss of security, about feeling loved by my father and then, sometimes fairly soon, getting beaten and hollered at and ridiculed by him? Oh, yes. But it doesn't hold so much power over me as it used to. I have tried to face it, write about it, realize how it was negatively affecting my relationships with others and my attitude toward myself. And I am trying to move on.<br /><br />I hope this is recovery. If better feelings come at times, that will be fine. But I realize that I already have plenty of opportunities even now for enjoying life, with the new, safer life I have, with my wife, good children, and their children, and some safe friends. It's better than it used to be. I can be content. I can continue trying to live in healthier ways, but I don't need to live saddled with so much guilt as I used to, not being perfect at recovery.<br /></span></div>Wayne Lemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18024771201561767893noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23122463.post-5922875141099968732007-09-01T22:01:00.000-07:002007-09-01T22:13:09.331-07:00grungeMy wife and I are back from two weeks away from home. The first week we spent with my parents. We helped them celebrate their 60th wedding anniversary. I made them a nice photo album to celebrate their years together. They liked the album. They enjoyed the celebration we put on for them. I enjoyed seeing them happy.<br /><br />But I also had many difficult times during that week. My father still speaks so negatively about people. He still criticizes my mother and controls her, part of his marriage-long abuse. Partway through the week I found myself sitting in their living room with my head down, my wife nearby. I looked at her with pain in my eyes, hoping she could understand how I was feeling. I felt grungy. I think I felt the most uncomfortable I ever have listening to Dad. I love him. But he has caused Mom and me, and in different ways my brothers, deep pain. It hurt listening to him being so negative, talking about others, criticizing people, not living joyfully. I think I felt it so deeply because I have been working at removing my own scar tissue for years now, scar tissue which grew to help protect me when I was younger and had no one else to protect me, scar tissue which kept me from having as good relationships with others as I craved. Now I feel more fully and sometimes it feels so good, like when I'm playing with our grandchildren, or when our children tell me, "Dad, I love you," at the end of a phone chat. And sometimes it feels bad, when there is something painful going on.<br /><br />It was such a relief to leave. I told my wife partway through the week that I hoped I could make it to the end of our time with my parents. I did. I did well, actually. I drove them around. We took them to two restaurant meals. When we left I told them I loved them both.<br /><br />But it still hurts. And it still feels good to get away from all that negativity, which is connected to the physical and verbal abuse which has been going on in that house for almost my entire lifetime. I think there may have been two or three years after I was born before it started.<br /><br />Grungy is not a good feeling. Maybe I'm grieving the grunge.Wayne Lemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18024771201561767893noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23122463.post-44132752082781662012007-07-28T18:03:00.000-07:002007-07-28T18:07:47.954-07:00Carnival Against Child AbuseThe latest (July 27) <a href="http://wiredfornoise.blogspot.com/2007/07/carnival-against-child-abuse.html">Carnival Against Child Abuse edition</a> is posted on the Wired For Noise blog. One of the themes of this carnival is that there is hope for recovery, even if it takes a long time. Good submissions.Wayne Lemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18024771201561767893noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23122463.post-27280416975280495182007-07-25T12:41:00.000-07:002007-07-25T12:47:40.315-07:00our dog got it alsoA couple of days ago I had a flashback to my childhood. I remembered that my father used to beat our dog, also, besides beating Mom and me. My wife has reminded me that someone has said that if someone abuses animals there is a good chance they will move on to abusing people also. I don't know why my father beat us and our dog. I don't know why he had such a raging temper. Even more confusing: I don't know why he could be so tender and loving sometimes and then so out-of-control at other times. And it was even more confusing and frightening for me, as a little boy. I wish my father had accepted the offer of help that was available to him. He refused it. I feel sad about that. It's part of my grieving process. I wonder what kind of grieving my own children and wife have done over the years about my own deficiencies.<br /><br />Life is not fair. People make bad choices and sometimes do bad things. I wish life were not that way. It tears me up when I observe someone else being abused or having a difficult time recovering from past abuse. I wish I could do more, but sometimes I can't.<br /><br />Life is not fair.<br /><br />But I won't give up trying to help things get better.Wayne Lemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18024771201561767893noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23122463.post-79965784495644586732007-06-23T16:39:00.000-07:002007-06-23T16:50:11.708-07:00to forgive or not to forgiveLast night I had another vivid dream about my father. He must have raged again and abused me. That part wasn't in the dream. But he did come into the dream wanting me to forgive him for what he had done. He would come to me that way at night when I was a child, after he had beaten me during the day. He would ask for forgiveness. I always forgave him. I believed it was the right thing to do. Eventually, though, I understood that he would abuse again, even though he asked for forgiveness and said he would try not to do it again. I resigned myself to his not keeping his promise.<br /><br />But in my dream last night I didn't forgive him. And I didn't not forgive him. I just struggled with whether or not to forgive him. There were others around in the dream and I told them "He will do it again." When I told my dream to my wife this morning, she said, "I heard you say something like that in your sleep."<br /><br />The dream ended.<br /><br />It was only a dream.<br /><br />I have been forgiving my father all my life. It's a struggle. That's no dream.Wayne Lemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18024771201561767893noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23122463.post-78873039963770738042007-05-29T10:49:00.000-07:002007-05-30T12:47:08.623-07:00play therapyYesterday we had a fun family Memorial Day picnic supper at the park near our house. After we ate the children had a good time playing. Shawna (about 16 months old) came up to me. She can't really talk yet, except for a few words, but I could tell she wanted to be with me. That feels so good. She held her distance for quite a few months but then realized that my wife and I were OK.<br /><br />Later she brought me a ball. I would throw it and she would go get it and bring it back. She hasn't yet learned how to throw a ball, I guess.<br /><br />After awhile folks were eating some dessert. I was asked if I wanted a rich pecan cookie (something like a brownie). I did, but I was sitting on the ground 20 feet from the picnic table. So I asked if someone could give my cookie to Shawna and tell her, "Take this cookie to Grandpa." She understood. She brought it all the way to me, turned around, sat in my lap, and ate the cookie! Her mother, our daughter, brought me another one.<br /><br />I also got to pitch the ball for the four boy cousins ages 3-7. I think they all got hits. I asked our son to be catcher and I pitched. Good fun!<br /><br />Ah, the stuff good memories are made of. I never knew being a grandpa and getting to experience a safe childhood with my grandchildren would be so sweet. This must be a kind of play therapy. I felt peace, content, relaxed, and safe. It is therapeutic to experience childhood again, this time safely, as I relate to our grandchildren. I love them so much. I want to help keep them safe. I want to protect them from any kind of abuse.<br /><br />When I shared the preceding with one of my good friends, he responded:<br /><blockquote>Thanks for the descriptions of your good Memorial day gathering. Yes, trust is a wonderful thing, and it warms our souls to experience it. The Lord is giving you back some of the years that the locust ate. How sweet it is, richer than pecan cookies, and warmer than the sun's rays on a spring day. Oh what a foretaste of glory divine!</blockquote>So true!Wayne Lemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18024771201561767893noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23122463.post-12457567076983117362007-05-25T22:09:00.000-07:002007-05-25T22:24:25.976-07:00Boot HillI told them not to climb the hill, really a bluff, high and steep, but an inviting challenge for my friends. I told them my father did not allow us to climb the bluff. He said it was too dangerous. We might fall. And we might get lost when we got to the top where the alders grew so thickly. I told them we would all get in trouble if they climbed the hill.<br /><br />But they climbed it anyway. Their father was a different kind of man. He allowed for accidents and other things in life that went wrong. They didn't understand the really bad position they were putting me in by climbing the hill on our grounds.<br /><br />And they did get stuck up there, at least one of them did. Or maybe he got lost. I can't remember that detail right now. But I must have had to walk back down the beach to our cabin to tell our fathers that one of them hadn't come back down the hill and we didn't know where he was.<br /><br />And it happened as I had said. My father erupted. I started running from him, knowing that it would hurt when he erupted. One of my hip boots came off as I ran. He picked it up. He caught me. And he flailed at me with my own boot. It hurt.<br /><br />It hurt. I was not to blame.<br /><br />It was my <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boot_Hill">Boot Hill</a>.Wayne Lemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18024771201561767893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23122463.post-12747404062114522832007-05-12T20:57:00.000-07:002007-05-17T09:20:04.000-07:00Gray<blockquote><span style="font-weight: bold;">Gray</span> (composed 1993)<br /><br />Darkness descends,<br />surrounds, smothers.<br />Prisoner longs for light.<br />Day dawns,<br />but uninvited ugly<br />night and light<br />mixed in mind<br />produces persistent pain<br />of groggy gray.</blockquote>My meds have kept my depression pretty well in check lately. But there has been an underlying anxiety which has affected my sleep. Most days I don't wake up as refreshed as I need to be to work well and be safe when driving.<br /><br />I'm not sure what is beneath the surface. I'm discussed it with a friend who asks good questions. Maybe some of it has to do with how long my wife has been struggling with a debilitating disease. Some of it feels like earlier years when life was not safe--and yet, my life is the safest now that it ever has been. I no longer have work tension. I experience joy, with my wife, and going for walks with her after supper, and visiting our children and grandchildren. It's a beautiful Spring where we live. But underneath it all, I'm still afraid of my father or dread seeing him on our next visit (for their 60th wedding anniversary). Maybe I'm in so much healthier an environment now and am healthier myself that the lifelong anxiety keeps hanging around, like a fog. I'm able to function. And I'm not binging as I so often have on frenetic activity, especially work.<br /><br />It's not easy to recover. Does it really take a lifetime?Wayne Lemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18024771201561767893noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23122463.post-38385330309564354542007-05-07T09:05:00.000-07:002007-05-07T09:24:56.801-07:00managing depressionIn my last post I wrote about the insight I got from others, including some therapists, that we can "honor" depression. Comments to that post as well as further thinking on my own helped me realize that there has to be balance in all of this. There are different kinds of depressions, some life-threatening. Some depression can be managed with medication. Others can be helped with therapy, healthy self-talk, and positive changes in one's life style, attitudes, and diet. Some of the greatest authors and poets were severely depressed. Some of us can write fairly profound material during depression. Others can hardly get out of bed, let alone think about writing anything.<br /><br />I manage my depression with medication which I have taken for 15 years. If I decrease my medication or try to go off it cold-turkey, the depression worsens. I am not able to think clearly. Thoughts of worthlessness get so bad that it is painful for me and I am hardly able to function. I am able to do very little work. I simply feel terrible and feel like I am a worthless person.<br /><br />I have also been helped by good sessions with therapists and by reading books about depression. All my life I have tried to keep the "bad" feelings away by doing things which crowd them out. I am an adrenaline junkie, in the words of one of my friends. I binge on work and hobby projects that keep the "happy" feelings going for a good amount of time. But then when my body tires and I must stop my binging, the bad feelings return even worse than if I had not been binging. Adrenaline crashes are unpleasant.<br /><br />So I have been trying to live on a more even keel, avoiding the ups of adrenaline highs and depression avoidance. I am pacing myself better in my work. The anger management work I did with my therapist last fall continues to help me.<br /><br />I am learning to take more pleasure in the ordinary things of life, discovering that what may seem ordinary really is often extra-ordinary if I relax and spend some time with it, such as enjoying a flower, or a piece of music, or playing with my grandchildren.<br /><br />Is my depression all gone because of my consistency in taking my medication and living with new behavior pattens and attitudes? No. But it is manageable. It doesn't overpower me as it would have in the past. Life is almost normal for me, or at least as normal as it can be when we can longterm underlying depression. And I can enjoy much of life, I can smile and have fun. others.<br /><br />Your experience may be different. My hope for each of us who suffer from depression is that we can find some joys in life which can balance out the uncomfortable or overwhelming feelings that come from depression.Wayne Lemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18024771201561767893noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23122463.post-1667241729978952312007-04-30T11:54:00.000-07:002007-04-30T12:15:32.426-07:00honoring depressionLast night I led a growth group session. We had a good time talking together, as we always do. Several of us shared deeply personal stories. I shared. I mentioned that depression began for me many years ago when I was in therapy for child abuse.<br /><br />There are a couple of therapists in the growth group as well as others who are wise. Several responded to my mention of depression, telling me to honor the depression. They said depression is a time for grieving, in my case, grieving the abuse I experienced as a child and grieving the fact that I never had a father with whom I could feel safe. With him there was always the risk of being beaten or ridiculed or both.<br /><br />I had never before heard that depression was something to honor. I had been told and had read that depression is "anger turned inward." I recognize that anger is an appropriate emotion to have toward at my father for abusing me (as well as my mother). (Of course, that anger has to be handled carefully, not destructively, and not transferred to others who had nothing to do with my father's abuse.) I assumed that my depression over the years was anger turned inward since this is what the experts had said about depression.<br /><br />But I appreciate the new insight my growth group friends gave me last night, that depression is something to honor. I know it is appropriate to continue to grieve that I did not have the kind of father every child deserves. Having been through child abuse, then therapy for it, I am better equipped to be that kind of a father and grandfather.Wayne Lemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18024771201561767893noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23122463.post-31960919269446726682007-04-18T19:15:00.000-07:002007-04-18T19:30:18.097-07:00feeling the hugToday, as part of my normal work, I was checking translation to another language of part of the Bible. It was Mark 9:36, which reads this way in the Good News Translation:<br /><blockquote>Then he took a child and had him stand in front of them. He put his arms around him and said to them</blockquote>As I read those words I was struck by the fact that Jesus put his arms around a child. The thought popped into my mind: "that could have been me there as a little child." For perhaps the first time in my life I started to realize at an emotional level that Jesus would have hugged me, too, if I had been there. It's been difficult for me to connect with God emotionally. I want to, but it is difficult, I assume because I was abused by my father. It is difficult for me to believe that others can really love me and especially that God can. Part of me wanted to just keep moving on in my work to check the next part of the translation. But another part of me kept urging me to linger on that image of Jesus hugging me. So I did for a bit. Maybe another time I can linger longer.<br /><br />This evening I told my wife that I had had a special experience while working today. I began telling her about what I just wrote here. When I started explaining about Jesus hugging me, I choked up. Some tears came. It felt real, like I was getting in touch with something that I've been missing all my life.<br /><br />Maybe some of you can understand something of this breakthrough for me today. I still have much farther to go to emotionally understand and accept that God loves me and would hug me, just as my wife, children, grandchildren, and some special friends do. I know it with my head, but I need to know it in a way that affects me emotionally, so that I don't feel so much rejection and self-condemnation.Al Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04278728833670204050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23122463.post-75613718673486375112007-03-04T16:00:00.000-08:002007-03-04T16:06:35.321-08:00CalmI have often found times of calm to be uncomfortable, unsettling. So I have spent much of my life in frenetic activity, including work, to keep calm away. Why? Because when there is quiet and calm, I hear old messages from my father condemning me:<br /><blockquote>You don't measure up.<br />You made a mistake.<br />Someone might not like you because you weren't perfect.<br />People will remember that you messed up.<br />There is something wrong with you.</blockquote>Lately I have been trying to experience the calm, to tolerate it, and, even, to accept and enjoy it. It's not easy, but it's getting a little better. The alternative is worse than the calm. Some people thrive on calm. I'd like to get to that place in life, someday. I know I don't have to be perfect while trying.Wayne Lemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18024771201561767893noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23122463.post-1172337405346740272007-02-24T09:08:00.000-08:002007-02-24T09:17:20.570-08:00DamagedRindy posted <a href="http://rindy.wordpress.com/2007/02/18/damaged/">Damaged</a> a few days ago. I just finished watching and listening to the powerful video she includes in her post. It's about a woman who was damaged by an abuser as a young girl, but it could be about any of us who have been damaged by someone else. I highly recommend that you, too, go experience Rindy's post on her <a href="http://rindy.wordpress.com/">Experience the Journey blog</a>, which I have just added to my blogroll.Wayne Lemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18024771201561767893noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23122463.post-1168120512813887002007-01-06T13:44:00.000-08:002007-01-06T14:07:47.833-08:00freedom in the fellowship of stutterersA couple of days ago I spotted a link to a blog post titled <a href="http://www.internetmonk.com/archive/remembering-the-stutterer">Remembering The Stutterer</a>. I followed the link to a blog hosted by someone who stutters and blogged about it. I was deeply interested because I, too, have been a stutterer. It felt freeing to read the blog post and comments on it by other stutterers. I added mine to theirs. There is something very special about being in the company of others who have a similar disability as you do, and are honest and transparent about it. It's freeing, and healing. I wish that more of us who have abusive backgrounds or disabilities of various kinds would be more open so that others can experience freedom and progress from being with those who understand what we go through. As I have talked with others, I've come to believe that a high percentage of people, perhaps most people, have disabilities or impediments of one kind of another. Some are hidden, others are seen, but all are real. I want to be open enough about my issues, where appropriate, so that others can feel comfortable to talk about their issues and, hopefully, experience greater freedom and joy in life.Wayne Lemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18024771201561767893noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23122463.post-1167414152036699172006-12-29T09:37:00.000-08:002006-12-29T09:42:32.050-08:00Do we really put women and children first?Rev. Dr. Sharon Ellis Davis has written a <a href="http://www.faithtrustinstitute.org/index.php?p=And%2C+You+Will+Know+A+Tree&s=288">powerful reflection</a> on how much we need to become more aware of violence to women and children. She says:<br /><blockquote>The culture we live in has a rhetoric of women and children first. However, I began to seriously reflect on the persistent violence against women and children--rape, incest, emotional and physical abuse, unfair economic wages, and lack of health care for single, female-headed families. I was forced to ask the question, "Are we truly living in a culture that values women and children? Are our morals and values producing legislation, attitudes, and people who care enough about women and children to ensure they have equal treatment and protection under the law?" In other words, "Does our culture have a walk that equals our talk?" </blockquote>Later she adds:<br /><blockquote>So, as I continue to reflect on our culture and its "women and children first" culture, I submit that we cannot begin to put women and children first until we become sensitized to women and children--their needs, special circumstances, and their value. I submit that we cannot put "women and children first" until we open our eyes and see women and children, recognizing them as valued contributors to the survival of our society. Like the male pastoral leader in my workshop who was able to admit his lack of awareness of violence against women, we have to get off automatic and open our eyes and see. Only then will our walk equal our talk. Then women and children will not simply be first in rhetoric, but truly included with the humanity of all people. </blockquote>I agree.Wayne Lemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18024771201561767893noreply@blogger.com0