his words . . .

back in february,
i was sitting in the play therapy room
at work with my colleagues and our spouses.

it was our christmas party

because we are therapists,
we don't care about things like
having christmas parties in the correct month.

and because we are therapists,
we do things at christmas parties
that most people wouldn't.

like take an hour and a half,
cocktails in hand,
to encourage one another.
as a staff, we shared all of the things
that we admire and respect about
our colleagues & team mates.

then our spouses got to speak.
and they were asked to share a trait
that we have that is a contribution to our team . . .
and THEN . . .
an area THEY would like to see us grow or push ourselves . . .
PROFESSIONALLY!

it was a gusty move on the part of
the conductor of ceremonies!
but it was cool.

i remember everything herb said.

"cara loves helping people learn about therapy - she is always so excited and pumped up after a team meeting. i would like to see her push herself a little and share her gifts more."

it is amazing what the words of a spouse can do to a person.

it can break a person down.

or it can build a person up.
it can give a person the courage they need to take a risky step.
because they know they are supported and loved
by someone who believes in them

because somebody thinks they have something worth sharing

so i did it
i created an internship program
for Foundations Family Counseling
a Master's level, year long internship program
for counseling students

i wrote curriculum
i marketed to schools
i interviewed candidates
i made binders with lots of information
and i bought snacks

because snacks are important

and yesterday,
for 6 hours,
i led the first day of orientation
for my first class of interns!

and it went fabulously!

all you need to know . . .

is that as i sat toward the front of the movie theatre
and craned my head back
i saw plenty of light reflecting
off of the metal emblems centered on the foreheads
of children, tweens, and teenagers alike

me: "are those people wearing headbands?"
herb: "yes. yes they are."

i kept my hand secured on herb's forearm most of the evening
to ensure that i didn't laugh outloud.
instead, i just dug my fingers into his flesh.

you also need to know that people were cheering throughout this film
we waited for the prompts of our seatmates
(who, impressively, did not take us up on our offer to sit behind them!)
before hooting or hollering.

my 15 year old friend was sweet and funny
her companion
(whom i was brashly informed "is NOT my boyfriend")
was equally sweet, funny, and charming.
and he shared his mozeralla cheese sticks with me at Red Robin.

on the way home, i told herb
"i don't know how B wouldn't like him.
i am a grown, married woman,
and i had a crush on him within 10 minutes!"

that's not weird, is it?

weird would have been if i had worn the ninja costume.
i didn't.

words i (re) learned

me. today.

drinking: water

reading: "girl in the mirror" and "queen bees & wannabes"

learning: why are ALL of my adolescent female clients trying to hurt themselves?

wondering: am i going to be ready when my internship team starts in june? do i have what it takes to teach them how to be good therapists?

listening: the weepies

wearing: dark jeans and a "librarian-sexy" see through blouse with poofy sleeves and a tie around the neck. black mary janes.

temperature: chilly but nice fresh air coming through the window

location: my tiny little office in the city - love it!!!!

outlook: hopeful

excited about & grateful for:
* new car to replace our leased car that we are turning in next week -
she is deep red-ish orange and i named her daphne because she is sleek and svelt . . . like a 40's pin-up girl.

* going to visit my lovely sister and girlfriends in kansas city next week! i get to follow kelly around while she shoots a wedding! so so so excited to learn from her magical ways!

* nothing ever stays the same. in the case of marriage, this is proving to be a very delightful truth!

* i ordered my mothers day gift two weeks ago! it will be arriving at her home sometime next week! yes! i love it when i am organized!

* my gran gosney is coming to stay with us for 4 or 5 days next month!

* summer in denver is amazing! can't wait for the farmer's markets, outdoor movies, hiking, and more and more and more!

* i turn 30 in 2 months and one week! . . . starting to wrap my head around that a little bit! unlike my 25th (which was seriously traumatic for me), i am actually pretty excited and feeling good about it all!

* i have been scrapping and making art without feeling guilty about all of the "wasted" time that i am not cleaning the house or doing "real" work!

* going to a wedding tomorrow night! delighted to be a small part of their story of love and redemption!

* making new friends in denver! lots of quality women are popping up in my world these days!)

* i am learning to CHOOSE joy and happiness everyday!

And I Have To Speculate That God Himself Did Make Us into Corresponding Shapes Like Puzzle Pieces From the Clay

We went to a "marriage conference" this weekend.
(sorry, this term normally makes us both a little skeptical . . .)
It was really good.
I am thankful.
More later.

Inspire This!

For the past year or so, I have been mopey.
Getting used to marriage has been a toughie for this girl!
The year before that, I was panicked.
Turns out, falling in love was kind of scary too!
Plus, it turned out that working with adolescent males full time was a little too much for my heart to handle.
And i wilted a bit.
So, there's that.

When you are mopey and panicky, you don't tend to be very creative.
But I am noticing that when you are not very creative, you tend to be mopey and panicky.
And then . . . you get weird.
(As if mopey and panicky were not enough!)
Bummer.

On top of that, I do have some of the traits of a typical first born kiddo (which i am).
I am a perfectionist.
But just to murky the waters, I am also creative and I am a bit cynical and pessimistic.
So, a cynical perfectionist knows that you can WANT to do something perfect . . .
but perfection just isn't possible.

The result?

Stagnation.

Why do anything at all if you can't do it perfectly?

This is the mantra of the First Born/Middle Child Hybrid.

In case you are confused, let me give you some background information.
I am convinced that the egg from my mom that was meant for me was accidentally matched with the sperm from my dad that was intended to go with mom's egg that was reserved for my younger sister Amy.

Does that clear things up?

While this theory is about as plausible as herb's theory about his conception and birth
. . . it just is what it is.

This is me.
Weird, first born-ish perfectionist-ish.

The point?

I have needed some inspiration.
A reason to be creative.
A reason to try, even if trying might mean mediocrity or *gasp* failure.

Every time I try to create lately, I seem to get stuck. Somehow I stopped creating for me and started holding myself to certain standards. That special, free, floaty feeling that i used to have when i created disappeared.

And remember, if you can't do it just right . . .
all together now:
"WHY DO IT AT ALL?"

Very good.

Right.
Why do it at all?

But lately, i have had a few people inspire me to do it - whatever IT might be!
even if you can't give it all of the time you want.
even if you can't do it "just right".
do it.
do something.
do it now.
don't wait.

there is a catchy little tune that has been stuck in my head for a few weeks.
and while it the chorus has the f-word, i believe truth can be found just about anywhere . . . even if it was not intentional on the part of the human who created it.
i have found myself humming it.
and after a while, i found myself believing it.
why not just do it?
do anything?

so, thanks, zefrank!

(if you are not too worried about hearing the f-work word, go right here for this hysterical little ditty.)


otherwise, this will give you the gist. this is part of zefrank's intro to a little song called "Where the "F" do ideas come from?":

"I run out of ideas every day! Each day I live in mortal fear that I've used up the last idea that'll ever come to me. If you don't wanna run out of ideas the best thing to do is not to execute them. You can tell yourself that you don't have the time or resources to do 'em right. Then they stay around in your head like brain crack. No matter how bad things get, at least you have those good ideas that you'll get to later.
Some people get addicted to that brain crack. And the longer they wait, the more they convince themselves of how perfectly that idea should be executed. And they imagine it on a beautiful platter with glitter and rose petals. And everyone's clapping for them. But the, but the, but the, but the bummer is most ideas kinda suck when you do 'em. And no matter how much you plan you still have to do something for the first time. And you're almost guaranteed the first time you do something it'll blow. But somebody who does something bad three times still has three times the experience of that other person who's still dreaming of all the applause. When I get an idea, even a bad one, I try to get it out into the world as fast as possible, 'cause I certainly don't want to be addicted to brain crack."

Funny AND true.
How's that for a double-mac-attack!?!?!
Love it!

And then there is my friend Kelly.
A few years ago, Kelly decided to become a photographer.
So she taught herself.
Then she opened her own studio.
And now she is an artist with a thriving business in Kansas City, MO!

The beautiful thing is that kelly (who i have known now for about 13 year - did the math in the shower this morning, kel!!!) sees more potential in me than i see in myself. And for the past year, we have made a habit of talking every few days or so. Recently, we have been chatting about once a day. And while I know we both benefit from our morning chats, I am beginning to realize that kelly is out to encourage me into greatness. Part of her approach to this is to invite me into the creativity that she has been splashing about for the past few years. So, she subtly slips opportunities my way - sort of disguised as bartering or favors . . . but in reality, she is pushing me to just get out there and do something with my talents! ANYTHING!

It is kind of like she taught herself how to build a roller coaster from scratch and i just walked over and said, "oh, i like roller coasters! can i have a ride?"

The pictures above are of a 12 x 12 canvas I made this week.
Thanks to kelly, i am going to make a handful of these and display them in her studio as an option people can choose when deciding how they want to display the pictures she takes of them and their family! This is my first attempt . . . mostly playing around with paint and adhesive techniques.

and zefrank is right - i know now more than i did three days ago!!!

thanks zefrank for asking the question, "where the f*** do ideas come from?" - even if you are a major potty mouth!
and thanks kel, for inviting me onto your roller coaster!

Three Thoughts and a Recipe

three things struck me at the pool today:

1. i am really pleased that the young co-ed behind the counter at the DU rec center took the initiative to organize all of the lost ID cards and made a note in each of the delinquent card-holder's files.
it saved me $10.
i assured him that it was that kind of "go get 'em" attitude and "can do" spirit that will secure him a job and many promotions. i left out the part that first he has to figure out what he wants to do with his life and that that can take years. and once he becomes passionate about something, it actually gets worse, because then he has something to be disappointed about when he realizes how difficult it can be to find a real job.
i didn't want to burst his bubble, so for now i allowed him to bask in his ID card organizing skills.

2. at the end of my work out, i was able to pull myself out of the deep end of the pool without:
a) swimming over to the edge and using the ladder
b) hoisting myself face first onto the pool deck and bruising my thighs.

i actually grabbed onto the starting block, stood all the way up, and just stepped out.

it has been about a year since my doctor began treating me for chronic fatigue and fibromyalgia. i am very grateful that all of our hard work and time is beginning to pay off. (more on this later)

3. i love that there is a 50+ woman at my pool who swims (a full workout, not just playing around) in a string bikini.
swim cap.
goggles.
and a string bikini.
fabulous!

cellulite and jiggly tummy not withstanding, this woman struts her stuff! it makes me smile! may we all be so confidant and in love with ourselves and our bodies!
go go go!!!!

and now . . .

cara's chicken parmesan:
i don't use recipes . . . so here we go.

take two chicken breasts.
beat the crud out of them until very thin.
take two thin pieces of nice, dense bakery bread.
throw in the food processor to make coarse crumbs.
take two eggs whites and put them into a shallow bowl.
into another shallow bowl, place bread crumbs, a large handful or two of shredded parmesan cheese, a thumb-sized dollup of fresh basil (i like the wet kind in the tube), 2 garlic cloves.
learn how to spell dollup.
mix ingrediants together.

coat chicken . . . alternate between egg whites and bread/cheese mixture.
coat twice.

heat skillet with olive oil coating the bottom.
cook chicken until golden and cooked all the way through.

place on pan. top with tomato sauce from a jar and sliced fresh buffalo mozzarella.
place under broiler until bubbling.

enjoy

Not So Disgruntled

I have spent the past few moments chatting with Direct TV's automated customer service representative. . . we'll call him/her ACSR.
If you know me at all, might know that the worst, ugliest part of myself tends to come out in two places . . . my marriage . . . well, that is pretty normal and even has the potential for redemption and healing and growth . . . and when I am on the phone with a customer service representative.
It's ugly.
But it's my truth.

My main problem with customer service is that I am calling because I don't know something.
I have a question.
I am confused.
You have to give them all sorts of information just to get going.
Then you have to explain to them the thing that you don't understand to begin with.
If I don't get it, I sure can't explain it to you.

Moral of the story?
I sound like an idiot.
And customer services representatives don't really like talking to idiots.
Do I blame them?
No.
But it doesn't make it any easier.
So they ask me to explain my problem and I sound stupid.
Then they treat me like I am stupid.
Then I treat them like poop.
And it goes on and on.

The automated system normally hacks me off even more.
I will almost always just start pressing "0" over and over until I am talking to a real person.
Because when you are living in my mind, you typically make things much more confusing and difficult than they really are . . . and let's be honest, Mr. ACSR, I am much much too complicated and high-maintainance for you.
You have nothing to offer a confused, learning-disabled-ish girl like me.

But today it was nice.
Automated Customer Service Representative (ACSR):
"What is the home number this account is attached to?"
ME: "Gosh, I don't know." I gave them herb's cell phone number while frantically looking for our number. We never use it!
ACSR: Repeats back the cell number. Just giving me enough time to find the real number. "Is this correct?"
ME: "NO!"
ACSR: "Please give me your correct number so I may further assist you."

Honestly, for a split second, I felt like an idiot. I felt like somehow the ACSR has the ability to pass judgment on me and determine I am a huge moron.
But the beauty of it is . . . he/she does not.
Nope!
Not even a single little bit!
It was a good customer service representative day for me!

And let's talk about this "bundle" chananagain that Qwest is trying to pull.
I called Qwest and paired down our phone line from $34 to $11.50 a month.
Bare bones, people.
That is all this girl needs!

Then I called back to discuss bundling (it just seemed like a good idea to keep it separate).
Turns out that if and only if I go back to my $34 home line package can I get a bundling deal.
Then I can save $5 a month.
Nope.
Once I hike my monthly phone package up I can bundle my direct TV into the whole deal and save another $5.

Let me think about this.
Nope.
I am currently saving over $20 and I only have the services I really need.

Did you know that in Colorado it is only $6.50/month for a basic, bare bones phone line!?!?!?
It is $15 in most other states!
I added the $5 line backer and called it a day!

AND I have even convinced herb to at least THINK about pairing down our Direct TV package.
If we watch TV in one room (instead of three),
and cut out one of the cable packages,
we can save $23 MORE each month!!!

And if we go down to a more basic channel package, the possibilities of savings - ENDLESS!
Well, not really endless, but at least another $15.

It has so little to do with the actual savings.
And if we don't do it, I have assured herb that our relationship will remain fully in-tact.
But I would love it!
I know $20 here and there adds but, but it is not a huge deal for us right now without kids, etc.

The huge deal, is this:
I really like simplifying.
I was in the middle of a total re-simplification makeover when I met Herb.
And then I realized how much I like the luxuries of cable and Ti-Vo and all of it.
So simplification took a hiatus.

I love Ti-Vo, but it is not necessary.
It doesn’t' make me any happier.
Truly.

So here we are.
Simplifying as we go.
No big deal.
But a lot of fun.

Next stop . . . cell phone package!!!
YES!

In other news . . .
Our date night was fantastic!
We are getting to a point where we just really like spending time together.
Sounds weird since we are married.
And newlyweds, at that.
But let's be real,
in our case, after we said I do . . . we said . . . I do WHHHHAAAAT??????
and that lasted about a year and three or four months.

But in the last 8 weeks or so, we have turned a big corner.
The love thing was never a question.
The commitment thing was solid.
BUT NOW . . .
We like each other again!

It is fantastic!

So, a hot dog and a silly movie was so much fun!
At the end of the day, we are just a couple of cheap dates. Seriously, as much as we LOVE eating at "gourmet bistros" and staying at creative, plush places on vacation . . . it really doesn't take much!

Follow Through

. . . not one of my stronger suits.

Yesterday, I was laughing with my friend Allison about a conversation I had with Herb earlier that morning. I was running out the door to meet Allison for a walk (late, of course). The night before, I told Herb that I would make him breakfast the next morning. Come Tuesday, I woke up an hour late. So, with about 30 minutes before I am scheduled to meet Allison, I threw the sausage in the pan and hopped in the shower.

The sausage burned.

Without much explanation or attempt to redeem the lack of delievery, I threw my coat on and said good-bye to herb.
Regarding the lack of breakfast he said, "I feel like you never even intended to make me breakfast!"

Well, I giggled at this for a few reasons:

1. The burnt sausage on the stove serves as evidence to the contrary.
2. Lack of intention has rarely been an issue for me. No. I am a dreamer. And a promiser. It is the follow through that I often lack.

I told Allison that if Herb is going to pick on my character, I need for him to at least expose the accurate character flaw!

(Sidenote: Herb in no way requested that I make his breakfast. It was fully offered and inadequately delievered. And in response, after a moment of pouting, he was extremely gracious about it.)

All of this to say, I have been following through in some other areas . . .

For starters, I mentioned back in February that Herb and I decided to ditch Valentine's Day in exchange for a monthly day of intentional romance. Decided by us - not by Hallmark. A date. A suprise. Just something that says "I love you AND I took a few minutes to put something together to show you!"

So here we are.
April.
We are alternating months, so it is technically Herb's month, but I am playing catch-up from March because we were out of town quite a bit (plus I planned both of the romantic trips we took, so technically, I am in the clear, but I really wanted to do a simple, herb-style denver based date.)

The whole "romance a month" thing really started to fulfill MY needs. Herb doesn't need this as much. And his low romance requisit makes it tough to know how to pamper him sometimes. So after much pondering and prayer (no kidding), I finally figured out how to put together a date for my guy.

Thursday night, you will find me and Herb at Steve's Snappin Dogs . . . a hot dog stand on Colfax Ave . . . followed by the 8:15pm showing of "Blades of Glory".
Yes, that would be the new Will Farrell figure skating movie.

Mmmmmmm.
40-something comedians in lycra.
Nothing says I love you more than that!!!

If Life Were A Chick-Lit Novel . . .

(i found this "vintage card catalog" maker on nitty.gritty's blog today . go ahead! make your own!!!.)

AND ANOTHER THING . . .
I have been blogging for over a year.
this is post #198.
that is a lot of blog entries.
a lot about my life has changed in that short amount of time.

i started out telling long stories, often with a "moral at the end of the story".
ironically the very subject of my entries (the challenges in the first year of marriage) had me so worn out that i began using this blog as a place to just be silly or creative instead.

but as my life's journey changes, my focus might need to change yet again.
not sure what that will be.
the point is this:
it might be time for my blog to change a little bit, in order to reflect what is currently going on in my world and my thought process.

i am no longer "the bride" wearing the big white dress.
nope.
after a year and five months . . .
i am definitely a wife.
and i am no longer asking myself "what did i just sign up for!?!?!?"
i am getting situated into being a wife.
i am comfortable and committed to it.
i don't regret it.

but the funny thing is,
i find myself looking back to parts of my pre-wife self with a sense of longing.
not the parts of my pre-wife LIFESTYLE.
no. that is not what this is all about.
but the parts of myself . . . the things i had BECOME.

in my mid-20's, before i met herb, i worked on all sorts of stuff about myself.
i was a late bloomer, emotionally, plus i had some family things to sort out.
i needed to gain confidence, peace, acceptance, patience . . . and during that time, i did.
i really paid attention to some growth and healing that needed to happen.
i explored myself.
and god.
i began to appreciate myself.
i explored why i often ended up feeling so disappointed by friends and family.
i learned to let go.
and find worth in myself from god - not from other people.

i learned so much . . .
but never in the context of a romantic relationship.
my new beliefs and sensibilities . . .
my new "parts" were not strong enough
to withstand all of the emotions and changes
that come when you open your heart up . . .
for the very first time.
by the time herbie came along, these new parts were
still little tiny sprouts, just barely able to support the weight of their own buds and blooms.

during that year i dated herb,
i regressed, i think.
i felt out of control.
when i feel out of control, it is because i feel unequiped in a situation - i don't know what to do.
and then i get scared.
and when i get scared i get very angry.
and anxious.
and i cry.
a lot.

but now my head is above water again,
and i want to rediscover those changes in my heart:
the joy.
the ease.
the lack of striving.
just knowing who i am and loving myself.
as i am.
in the here and now.
not expecting or demanding -
of myself or of others.
just allowing whatever can come today to come.
and letting the rest just be what it is.
i was easy on myself.
and easy on other people.
i looked for simple pleasures in the mundane -
and i FOUND THEM! all of the time!
i saw both sides of a story.
and i gave the benefit of the doubt.
i was flexible.
and kind.

i want that back.
and i think i can have it.
because i think those are all things that reflect maturity and a relationship with god.

I don't want to recapture my single life.
i AM a wife.
and i WANT to be a wife.
herb's wife.
but i want to introduce those free, trusting, easy parts to my new, "wifey self" and see if they can figure out how to play nice together.

so, all of that to say, i am changing
and this blog might be changing soon too.
the name.
the address.
the content.

we'll see.
thoughts are certainly welcome.

There Are Others

This is a piece in our new art museum addition.
I told herb that if i was in the third grade again, i would have felt like seeing this huge striped canvas was a sign that i was not alone in the world . . . . it would have meant that there were others out there beyond the windows of my mom's station wagon that were also tired of trying so hard to pay attention in school and being bad at sports and pressed ham on white bread for lunch everyday.

It meant that one day i could be glamorous and silly and wild and free.
Oh, and eat McDonalds Chicken Nuggets whenever I felt like it!

It meant that there were people that would say, "If you want to paint big flowers on your bedroom wall, let's make that happen!" "If you want to wear striped leggings with plaid boxer shorts over them to school, go for it - you will not be mocked or chided in any way!" "Sure, it makes sense that when you lay on the edge of the couch in the living room with your head hanging off the edge that you could spend hours contemplating what life would be like if we had to live on the ceiling." "Go ahead and throw a little temper tantrum if somebody is mean to you just because you tend to be a little backwards . . . they are a bunch of boring jerks who will grow up to work in middle management! When you are done crying we will go throw eggs at them!"

So, here's to you Mr. "Big Striped Canvas For Absolutetly No Good Reason Other Than You Felt Like It" Painting Guy!

Marriage: A Tool For the Depraved? VOL. 8

When I worked in the treatment center, we had a young man who came from an abusive family. We're talking unimaginable amounts of trauma and damage. This boy was wounded. Deeply. To the core. He didn't weigh more than a 100 pounds, and yet he was so disruptive and destructive that we could not control him. Eventually, we got to a point where we had to hire an extra person to work the milieu so that there would always be an extra pair of hands to make sure he was taken care of. That is a big deal. In a place where the client to staff ratio was 1:4, this child had 1:1 attention during every one of his waking hours. It seemed like the perfect opportunity for him. We told him I love you. We joked around with him. He was loved. He was given choices. And second chances. And 17th chances. And three meals a day. All luxuries he had not been afforded before.

After several months of treatment, and a month of very good behavior, I got permission to take him out for a reward. We went out to a mexican restaurant. He ate fried ice cream until he could eat no more. He was accelerating in the program. Growing. Healing.

Three days later, he ran away and was brought back to the facility in handcuffs. He lost control that night and had to be physically restrained. After spending the last of my fun money that month on chimichangas and fried ice cream, I was called horrible names and even bit so hard I had a large bruise.

It was like he did not know how to get better. Like he didn't want to get better. And the people who wanted to help him were his enemy.

Melanie's comment from last week about the paralytic in John 5 is beginning to make sense.

In so many ways, I am that teenage boy. I have everything I need before me for full life. And yet, I flaunt my battle wounds (small in comparison to those of other people) as an excuse to stay stuck . . . to resist change.

Last week Herb and I were joking around about scapegoat . . . "Sorry, I had a bad day, so I can run this red light." "You know, I just got in a fight with my boss, so I am going to punch you in the face." "I had a colonoscopy today, so, I just wanted to let you know I won't be paying my taxes this year . . . and I am going to put whoopie cushions on the chairs of all of the judges in the Supreme Court. But don't blame me, I had a tiny camera shoved up my buns today. It isn't my fault."

This week and last, my prayer book has been guiding my to scriptures and sacred readings about our part in the process of God's healing and forgiveness. Melanie was right . . . there is a level of responsibility in healing. At some point, we have to say:

"I want to get better."

Now This is MY Kind of Class

In high school one of my "other mothers", Deb, often assured me that if I could just get through the next couple years, I would be fine. "You were MADE for college", she would say. Deb insisted that once I moved on from the high school scene I would finally find like-minded people who had similar goals and *gasp* understood my sense of humor. And as all good "other mothers", she was right. In college, I finally found my groove.

And last night, after years of randomly trying various dance, aerobic, and step classes, I found my groove again. NIA is to that first week of college as step aerobics is to the required daily 35 greuling minutes in the high school cafeteria. A mixture of dance, healing arts, and martial arts, it is about freedom and moving according to your body's own beat. It is about exploring and healing. There is some structure, but within that structure, there is a freedom to let your body move however it needs and wants to. And the music. Oh, the music! Latin, middle-eastern, african tribal, R&B and deep-gutsy slave spirituals. After an hour, I had laughed, smiled, punched, slithered, pushed, yelled, rolled, cried (but just a tiny bit), cha-chaed, did snow angels on the floor and danced a big beautiful dance of victory and strength. In a one hour exercise class. If you can deal with the occaisional weirdness (I just prayed when we "bowed" to each corner of the room), you must check this out!

Marriage: A Tool for the Depraved? VOL. 6

When Herb and I were going through pre-marital counseling, we were asked by our counselor to think about the areas we might struggle in. We replied that while we knew there would be difficulties, we could not answer that question until we were in the middle of it.

Well, we are in the middle of it. We are in a relationship with the least amount of boundaries that there can be between two people. Like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, our close friends and roommates have stumbled across the occasional glimpse behind the curtain. They make their way back until the inevitable happens. They stop. They reach a point at which, despite their love for us, they can go no further. You know what I mean. We have all seen parts of our friends that we just don't want to approach. Their drudge. Their junk. We see it. Clearly. Often, we are even affected by it. But to really address it often requires that we pay a cost that is far too high - it is incongruent with the actual value of the relationship. Instead, we navigate and negotiate the relationship and our boundaries so as to be the least impacted while avoiding all unnecessary conflict.

This is not what we desired in our marriage. We have done our best to blur the lines between where one begins and the other ends. Our goal has been to combine ourselves, our things, and our hearts as much as possible in order to make it impossible to separate us from each other. We wanted the other person to see "everything".

In taking down all of the curtain we have with other people, we are exposed. We have given another person the privelage to not only go behind the curtain, but to take it down, fold it up, and put it on the top shelf in the linen closet . . . that infamous shelf where we put things we don't want to throw away, but we know we will never use again. Without the curtain hanging their to protect us, everything is fair game. We are being seen like never before. Feedback that nobody has ever dared to share is being heaped on faster than we know how to process it.

We are frightened. We are angry. What we see is difficult. And being seen is even more difficult. I don't think we realized that creating the deepest type of intimacy that we are capable of creating during the first months of marriage would hurt so badly.

Blending ourselves means that what's mine is yours. So, in addition to acquiring my witty sense of humor, an all access pass to the fruits of my kitchen skills, and my quirky view of the world, Herb got all of the sour stuff too. The student loans, a wild set of in-laws, and an old Honda Civic. Wait, it gets better. Herb gained the baggage that comes from being a part of a broken family, having a mild case of depression, and the world view of a narcissist. Who would have guessed all of that was wrapped up in that pretty white dress and gauzy veil?

The reality is that "having and holding" one another is a big job. "Having" always seemed like a good thing. "Sure, I would love to have some ice cream." Having has never so much seemed like "choking down" to either one of us. There is a lot to have and a lot to hold and it takes more than nine months to learn how to do so. Our new marriage is not strong enough to hold the weight of "having and holding" all that has been presented to us by the other. So we wait, endure, fight, and make-up. Rinse and repeat. It is disheartening, sometimes, to see the commitment to your love turning out to be the hardest thing you have ever done. And, again, it is harder to see your love struggle so hard to love you.

In my most dramatic, selfish, and fatalistic moments, I want to walk down the street, pass the park, and forget how to go home.

Last night I happened to glance at my wedding vows. They are posted on my laptop but I try not to look at them because they do little more than make me feel like a complete failure as a wife. However, this little line stood out to me, "I will journey, explore, and adventure alongside you - even when the path seems uncertain and the outcome is unkown."

I have no idea how to get to where the path is leading us. Most days, I can't actually see the path. I often want to sit in a corner in the basement and wait for the hard part to pass. I want to fast-forward us about 25 years. In this fantasy, my hair will be cool - wirey silver ringlets. I will have a huge ass and I will wear a lot of velvet tunics and bangle bracelets. Herb will have a gaggle of neighborhood teenagers that follow him around for no aparant reason and call him Chief. He will chase the neighborhood cats with more urgency than he does now. He will develop an odd laugh and call me "Queenie" and pinch my huge velvet clad ass in front of our friends and neighbors to make them squirm. And we will like each other. Really like each other. We will banter in the kitchen as kids and dogs run between us. We will see the other's junk and we will call them on it without personalizing it.

But my wedding vow was prepared for the present reality and prescribes a different approach than a sojourn in the basement for a "Sex and the City and Sudoku party" scheduled to last until the year 2031. "Journey, explore, and adventure". Three very strong verbs. A verb is an action word. This means I cannot sit down and wait for this part to end. It means I have already committed to staying actively engaged. So I I come out of the basement and come alongside of Herb; verbing as much as I can.

Mohawk

Real conversation with my brother last night . . .
"You know mom and dad always said I couldn't get a mohawk because 'You live under our house and our rules and when you are 18 you can move out and do whatever you want to your hair.' Then I realized a few weeks ago, 'WHOA! I'm 23! I can go get that mohawk now!"

What is most confusing about all of this to me is that Andy had 18 12-inch liberty spikes in high school . . . living under my parent's roof . . . but is now excited that he can do what ever he wishes with his hair. WHAT?

Growing Up Is Hard to Do

Six years ago, a (former) roommate who works for a mentoring ministry asked if I would be interested in going through the training program to become a mentor for an at risk teenager. My response: "I know your program is focused on teens . . . but unfortunately, I don't do teens. I didn't understand them when I was one and they certainly didn't understand me! If by some chance you found a child for me to mentor, I would talk about that with you."

Six months later she stood in the doorway of my room, "Well, I met your child today. She is your twin - totally how I picture you when you were a child - looks, personality - everything!" And it was true, this child and I were meant for each other. Even the way we got connected was phenomenal. When I was a counseling student, I randomly ran into the seminary's on-site cousneling center to say hi to somebody. I bumped into a woman who asked if I knew of any mentoring programs in town. She had a young clinet that needed a friend more than she needed thearpy. I directed her to Becky. And a few months later, Becky stood in my doorway - "I found your child!"

From her creativity, to her sensitivity, to her family dynamics, and her questionable sense of style/structure/and time management - we are so similar! Over the years, we have grown together, traveled together, and eaten our weight in ice cream together (I got two scoops for every one she had). It has been a serendipitous experience.

In the last year or two, we have seen less and less of each other. I have been busy and she doesn't call. We get together once every two or three months and go to a movie or something. I try talking to her. Sometimes she talks back. She handed out programs at our wedding. That's about it.

I got an email from her mother this week. My sweet little girl friend is now 14 years old and *gasp* kissing boys. She isn't supposed to be kissing boys. No, really, she isn't. It is against the rules at her house. But her little sister told on her. Oops. So, now, her mom wants me to start meeting with her again on a regular basis. It is a good idea. Teenagers need adults beside their parents to support them. But remember, I don't do teenagers.

Now, since the time that I originally declined working with a teen mentee, I have worked professionally with many teenagers. But most of them were boys - and we all know that drug and porn addicted teenage boys are much more reasonable and kind than any 14 year old girl.

But despite my fear of teenage girls, Herb and God have been talking to me about it and they both feel it is a good idea - for my friend and for me. So, next week, I will eat ice cream with the cute nine year old girl who has grown up into an adolescent who signs her emails "Vampire Freak". I guess I will wear a necklace of garlic bulbs around my neck.

Shrink Me

A joke among therapists (and even more among those who have to work professionally with therapists) is that we have chosen our career because we are in fact the ones in need of therapy. It is true. I have rarely denied this. In fact, I often don't give myself enough credit. But as much as I am aware of my idiocincricies and the ways they interfere with my life, my relationships, and my pleasure I hate to admit them. I hate feeling like the perpetual client. But I know that part of why I am an effective therapist is because I understand where my clients are coming from.

So today, I took a big step. I went to a counseling appointment under the hospices of "interviewing" this man to see if we would "be a good fit". Talk about distancing yourself from somebody, geez! But five minutes into it, I realized I was home. So, despite the years of counseling I have previously participated in, it is time to say it . . .
Being married has brought up the things that I fear most. I am living out of fear. I am allowing my fear to run rampant like five year old boy with ADD through the heart of my marriage. And it is time to get that kid on some spiritual Ritalin.
This is me doing my part to make my marriage not suck.