My Kitchen Sink - My Brain

This is how I like need my kitchen sink to look in the morning for my brain to feel sane. 

Why?  Because I'm anal like that.  It's one of my little pet peeves.  When I wake up in the morning, I can't even make coffee yet if there are any dirty dishes in my kitchen sink from the night before.  If my kitchen sink doesn't look like this, then my brain hurts.  

Well, this morning there were dirty dishes.  My oh my.  And they were left by my husband from the night before.

I just have to brag about myself here to cyberspace that I remained calm through finding several things early this morning that are on Kristen's little list of pet peeves.  Okay...maybe it's not such a "little" list :)

But I refrained from the impulse to call, text or email my wonderful husband and rant to him about all these things I'm finding in the morning that are raising my blood pressure.  Yes...being me is hard sometimes.  I hope you're able to read this knowing my sense of humor can be sarcastic at times to make my points not so umm...pointy.

Anyways, back to my bragging...

I did some self-talk to not act out angrily towards my husband regarding the pet-peeves.  And this is what I said: "it's okay Kristen, this will be dealt with, just not right now.  I will address these all important things with him, just not at the moment"  (This bought me time.  Much needed time to calm myself down and focus on going about my other morning routines.)

I also said, "I got to go out last night.  I got to hang out with a friend and enjoy time away from being home.  I get to do this every week in fact.  I'm pretty lucky.  Lots of my friends with young children don't have this wonderful arrangement with their husbands or partners.  He gave the kids a bath and got them down.  Who cares if the house was a bit messier than I'd prefer and etc.  He is the type of person who probably HUNG OUT with the kids and PLAYED with them last night before putting them to bed, and THAT'S why the house is not as clean and orderly as I'd prefer.  Hmmmm....there's something admirable about that in fact.  I can totally clean up and make the house more to my standards being GRATEFUL that the REASON I'm having to do this is because my children were being PLAYED with last night by their dad, while their mom was out enjoying her time with friends."

Wow.  And I could have so so easily ruined this all by following along with my impluse to call, text or email my husband to rant and vent about my pet-peeves with the house and I would have totally missed out on all this.  All this?  What's "all this"?

1.  satisfaction of gaining more experience of self-soothing without any harsh confrontations
2.  self realization that I can turn my own feelings of anger and frustration into gratitude
3.  choosing love over judgment without having said or done anything I later regretted
4.  biting my tongue and walking myself through this brought focus to what I was doing...made me more   present instead of being checked out by my anger

These things are HUGE for this little mama who has a hot, HOT tempter :)  I practiced good relational fire prevention skills.  Yay me!

These occurences are rather rare, but by God's grace...they will be piling up more and more. 

And I'm not even going to go back and edit this one before publishing it because I'm can be carefree.
Babysteps, right?

Be BLESSED.  Press on.  Fight the good fight.

Laterz,
kristen

Rx: Love, PRN

"Tell me how I'm supposed to breathe with no air?"  Good question Jordin Sparks...good rhetorical question.

When I'm aware that I've fallen short, caused myself or another grief of any sort whether it could be classified as "sin" or not my tendency is to try and whip myself back into shape.  I was outta line, gotta get myself back into line.

It feels righteous and dignifying.  Getting pleasure out of beating myself over the head (in my head) when I've gotten myself into a pit. But it's completely unbiblical, ungodly and produces virtually nothing beneficial.  Does it help when you use this method with your children?  Did it with you when you were a child?  So why is it so appealing?  Because it comes natural and without much effort.  And because I feel like I'm at least immediately "doing something about it."  A little spoonful of shame and condemnation makes for a perfect recipe of Stuck-pie.

What then are my other options?  What would my understanding of Scripture offer me as another pathway to change?

I believe this is what the great Physician, the great Healer Jesus would write out to me if I were to pay him a visit with this particular ailment:

Rx: Love, PRN.

My notion comes from 1 Peter 4:8
"Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins."


I've previously took this verse to mean when others have sinned against me, just turn the other cheek and pretend like nothing happened and this "love" will magically cover over my pain or offense caused from another's sins.

I now see a different perspective from reading this verse.

When I'm reminded of my humanity and my states of brokenness which cause me to do or say some stupid things that I later on regret, my default method of beating myself up about it does no good.

The remedy is love, not self-abasement.

I'm simply and frankly in need of more love, that is why I'm hurting others and/or myself.  I've taken my love deficit and made it somebody else's problem.  When I make it somebody else's problem, then I'm giving the solution away and out of my hands.  I'm now learning to make it my problem, not another's.  It's up to me to find a remedy that actually works and makes a difference, for me.  My creative techniques of shaming myself don't bring about any transformation, it's a futile diversion.  My invitation from Jesus is to simply get loved more by Him.  He isn't a dry well.  His love never runs dry.  His love and basking in that is something I will never outgrow the need for, no matter how mature I become in this lifetime.

How does this happen?  What does this look like?

It's all internal at first.  It's all invisible.  It's where transformation takes place...in what I tell myself.  In what thoughts in my head I choose to make an agreement with or a disagreement with.  Loving myself isn't selfish.  Or maybe it is.  I need to give myself permission to be selfish at times then, or I will become devilish.  In loving myself, I'm internalizing the truth of God's love, I'm making it real for myself.  I'm doing what an adult and grown woman can learn to do for herself, but that which a young child cannot.  -Love and accept myself without depending on others to do this FOR me.  It's a much easier task when that was experienced while growing up, but not impossible...not with God.

Love really is the answer.  I'm becoming more and more convinced, the crap that I feel and then generously pass along to others, is because of this love deficit I feel from time to time.  More often than I'd care to admit.

"Love your neighbor as yourself."
Jesus says.

If my love towards my neighbor is mirrored or reflective of my love towards myself, then my capacity to love my neighbor lays in my capacity to love myself.  If I hear this command not just as a command, but as a reality of a physical law of love and how it works, then what I hear is that I can only love my neighbor as well as I can love myself.  Therefore it is not selfish to love myself, for my love towards neighbor is directly linked to my love towards self.

Love is the key.  Love is the answer.  When I'm faced with the temptation to shame and ridicule myself out of my ruts, the first question I can ask myself to act as a buffer can be: "is this loving towards myself?"  And the same goes when I'm tempted to shame and ridicule my neighbor, my spouse, my sister, my in-laws or the person in front of me who's taking forever at the Redbox machine.."is this loving towards my neighbor?"  I bet I'll discover quickly that when I'm finding the answer is "no" to the second question it's because I'm acting out of a love deficit.  This is a symptom of a love deficit, towards myself.  Thankfully I have a Lord I can go to 24-hours a day.  He'll never get sick of me coming to Him to get this filled, for He knows His love is the remedy to all my aches and pains -self inflicted and others inflicted.

So to answer the rhetorical question this started out with, I've done a little turn-a-round..
"Tell me how I'm suppose to breathe with no air?" -to- "Tell me how I'm supposed to love my neighbor with no love towards myself"? --same answer to both questions...-can't.

Primal Wound

I'm reading "The Primal Wound" by Nancy Newton Verrier.

Great stuff.  Insightful stuff.  Lots of it.  But as I read, I feel overwhelmed with being validated for my "wonderings" or suspicions.  And there's a part of me that wants to put a wall up and say "enough is enough".

Here's what my wall is built of; thoughts, questions, ponderings. Not necessarily making any discernible point or answers, but this is my wall nonetheless:

We live in a broken world.  A world where things that are not supposed to happen do happen.  And they happen frequently and with little remedy.  That's what living in this world involves to varying degrees for each individual.  I was abandoned by my birth mother as a newborn in what feels like a foreign country (South Korea), and adopted in another foreign country (USA) because I have no history here, no ancestors that I can call my own.  What's a "homeland" anyway?  I don't know how old I was.  I don't know how it was done (my relinquishment), whether I was left by my birth mother or birth father or someone else.  I don't know what it's like to live a life that got off with a good start and not off on the foot of abandonment and trauma.  I don't know those kinds of experiences and there's nothing I can do to change all that.

That's life, right?

I don't know what it's like to grow up being mirrored back by physical, hereditary visible markers, yet alone emotionally or physically feeling bonded to any caregiver.  I don't know what it's like to be picked up by my parents who look like we belong to each other.  I don't know what it's like growing up being told how my mother's labor and childbirth and pregnancy experiences were as it relates to me. I don't know what kind of baby I was.  I don't know what it's like to have my mom tell me anything about the first year of my life because she doesn't know either.  How would she?  She didn't know me during that part of my life.  I don't know what it's like to be hugged or shown physical affection by my parents and not feel a very evident awkwardness about it, even though it's a completely appropriate expression of love.  It sounds wonderful though.

I don't know what it's like to know that certain medical conditions run in my family history.  I don't know what it's like to grow up in a Korean home, even though I am Korean.  I don't know what it's like to look at a mother, a father, an aunt, an uncle, a grand-parent and be mirrored back in any way shape or form.  I don't know what it's like to feel like I belong in my family of origin.  Ancestors?  What are those?  A family tree?  I have none that I can identify with.  I don't know what it's like to be able to say, "oh, my temper?  My analytical side? I get that from my mom, or dad or grandma or uncle blah".  I don't know what it's like to feel proud of my heritage and to participate in it with a clue.  I don't know what it's like to be able to fit into any group of people without feeling like I sorely stick out in my own mind.  I don't know what it's like to be able to identify with my own name.  Whether it's Kristen Fabian or Kristen Lopez.  I don't look like either one.  What does it feel like to have a name, first or last, that resembles what you look like?  It's beyond me.

But, I do know that many of the things I have never experienced, and probably never will...my daughters will and already have with the exception of anything that relates to their biological extended family on my side.  And with this, I am eternally grateful and count this as a tremendous blessing.

So...there's a great deal of loss.  A great deal of unknowns.  But I don't know what it's like to live any other life in which I did have these things either, so it's all things I wonder about but can't say I miss it because I never had it in the first place.  It's like an American who was born and raised in the USA trying to miss being a Brit...they never were!  But maybe this is different, because I once did know that elusive person called a birth mother...prenatally there is a primal bond that takes place...hence...the Primal Wound title of the book I'm reading...

Anyways...

I do know what it's like growing up with a feeling that I'm in an ocean of emotions called anger and misplaced grief.  Hmmm....interesting.  Glad I at least had a family given these heart-wrenching emotions as a child.

Well, that's life.  And by the way, only I can say that to myself about these things, or another who can personally relate because that's been a part of their own life.  If this comes from others who cannot, it's called ignorance.

That's all.  Thanks for reading :)
Kristen

PS.


If the solution of closing the door to international adoption (like South Korea is threatening to do) seems like a plausible solution to someone's grief..then please think again.  Think hard.

BECAUSE I was adopted into a loving and stable home, I do know what it's like to come home to a mom and dad who I never feared would harm me or leave me.  If I was sick, my mom was there to care for me.  If I had a math problem, my dad was there to take it to.  If I wanted to play, I had sisters to play with.  My family life with my parents, despite the abandonment and trauma and all the loss that incurs, was a stable force.  They fed me healthy meals, educated me, brought me to church, brought us on lots of family vacations, threw us birthday parties every year etc.  They provided a stable home in which I was safe, so safe that I rebelled against them to test them out, and still...they never abandoned me, no matter how much I sub-consciously set them up to do so.

They were not perfect.  They were not infallible.  They made many mistakes, as do all parents that are of the human race.  But none that were so bad that I wished I'd never been adopted by them.  They have been a constant and stable force in my life, my parents.  They were committed to that from the day we arrived off the airplane and have done that still.  My hope is that other Korean babies are not robbed of having a family by the Korean government placing such a life-altering decision for many babies on only partial information of hearing negative experiences without hearing others' experiences which differ greatly.  The saying, "Don't throw out the baby with the bath water" translates perfectly here.

peace.

Step One - Admission & Powerlessness

I'm in the process of working the Twelve Steps for the first time.

Several months ago, I couldn't have pictured myself considering doing this.  Now, I am in awe of it.

Some have wisely said to not get stuck on working step one.  The way it's been working out in me, is that by doing a thorough and investigative step one, I am launched into being ready for a step two and three.

I have gained a lot of insights from only this first step.  I'll share some of my own thoughts about working step one for myself.

Step One from Alcoholics Anonymous reads:
"We admitted we were powerless over alcohol - that our lives had become unmanageable."

While I am not an alcoholic, I clearly have my own set of personal addictions or compulsive behavioral patterns that have created painful consequences throughout my life.  Though it isn't at the hands of a drinking problem, it nonetheless has caused great affliction, for myself and others.

Step one is an admission of a sickness/struggle/addiction - and the powerlessness that surrounds me being able to conquer or control it on my own.  Instead, it has conquered or controlled me.

To me, I cannot or need not believe in a Higher Power to restore me to sanity (step two)  if I'm believing I can manage just fine on my own.  I must admit that I am really sick before I can admit that I really need a doctor.

This first step is very significant for me.  If I do not get this, I cannot live a sober life.  When I say sober, I mean live free from that which causes great pain, but that which I keep defaulting to despite its negative consequences.  Step one paves the way for my willingness and necessity for a step two, (which is having faith/belief in a Higher Power), and then a step three (which involves me making a tremendous decision based on coming to that faith/belief).

Jesus (who I've chosen as my Higher Power) said it is not the healthy that need a doctor, but the sick.  He came to call not the righteous, but sinners. (Mark 2:17, Luke 5:31, Matthew 9:12-13)

When I believe I am not sick (or not that sick), not in need, or pretty okay overall, then I am a self-made woman.  I will continue to walk in the faith of me being my higher power. My faith will need to consist of me relying on myself, which works fine.  Why not?  I can manage my life and have enough power over my demons, and see that all is pretty well.  I therefore will not feel the need to believe in any power greater than myself.  To me, this is the essence of my insanity.  And nobody can argue or coerce me into admitting it.  It must be freely realized on my own.

I'm ill inclined to draw this conclusion and make this admission of my powerlessness on blind faith alone. I need evidence.  Writing out my first step has provided great understanding.  It gives me clear evidence that I am, indeed in need.  I am powerless over my addictions/struggles or spiritual sickness that esteems self-sufficiency, and because of that, my life has become unmanageable.  I've lived long enough to see a trail of evidence throughout my life which becomes quite apparent when I'm open to seeing it, despite my feeling offended by it.

I can then confidently admit, based on clear facts and evidence by doing an inventory of the effects of my addictions, whatever they may be, that I am powerless.  I am in need. I am truly sick.  I'd better get a Doctor.

And this paves the way for my step two...
"Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity."

My Life Will Speak For Itself, For Better Or For Worse

This evening I was listening to a Christian radio station while I was preparing dinner.  The radio host was talking about Whitney Houston's faith.  He had mentioned that Oprah Winfrey was going to do an interview with her daughter and he wondered if the topic of Whitney Houston's faith would be discussed.  The radio host went on to say that he had hoped her faith would be talked about because Whitney had publicly spoken about her faith in Jesus Christ on a number of occasions and that her last song was "Jesus Loves Me".  Her belief in Jesus and her faith was something he hoped would be shared.

I noticed myself thinking these thoughts...

Why does there need to be an interview to know about Whitney Houston's faith?  Wasn't it obvious where her faith was?  Not in terms of merely theological beliefs or intellectual agreements regarding Jesus, but by the life she lived?  By her walk, and not merely her talk...let that speak for itself.

I love Whitney Houston's music.  She had an undeniable talent.  This is in no way, shape or form about Whitney Houston.  I had no relationship with her.  I only was one of millions of fans that enjoyed listening to her music or watching her perform.  That's all.

A sermon I heard from my pastor in the past came to mind on James 2:14-25.  It talks about faith and deeds.  Our faith is demonstrated by how we live our life.  Not only in reference to doing good deeds in terms of charitable contributions.  But in our actions. In our walk.  In our relationships.  In our pocketbooks.  In our free time.  In our private time.  In how I use my time, day in and day out.  These can speak volumes about where one places their faith -apart from merely intellectually giving accent that is incongruent with how I actually live my life.

Where or what I place my faith in at the center core of my heart...my actions will surely follow.  Again, I'm not talking about theological beliefs and creeds I verbally subscribe to or click "like" on in Facebook.  I'm talking about where the rubber meets the road in real life.

I then thought to myself, "where Whitney Houston's faith was placed in is really none of my business to judge."  Which is what I found myself doing, judging.  I was aware that she had a drug addiction.  I concluded that she placed her faith in drugs at some point and believed they were the answer to something.  

But wait...I am the last one to judge on this matter.  Really. For I am in no superior position.  None.

Based on the choices I've made...my life speaks as to where or what or in whom I place my real faith in.  And I must be honest with myself and take inventory of myself, not others.  What others do with that is none of my damn business, unless they've made it my business by giving me a personal invitation.

I believe in God the Father.  Jesus Christ as His only begotten Son, He is the Way, the Truth and the Life.  I believe that the Bible is the Word of God.  That Jesus will return.  That I was born into sin and Jesus' atonement on the cross is sufficient for my sins.  That God is the Creator of heaven and earth.  Blah. Blah. Blah.  What good does this do if my actions...my deeds...my life, tell a completely different story.

James says boldly:
"What good is it my brothers, if a man claims to have faith but has no deeds?" (2:14)

and..

"But someone will say, "You have faith; I have deeds."
Show me your faith without your deeds, and I will show you my faith by what I do.  You believe that there is one God.  Good!  Even the demons believe that -and shudder."  (2:18-19)

Ouch man.

I need to apply that to myself.  Not to you.  Not to Whitney Houston.  Not to my pastor, my husband, my neighbor.  Nope, nope, nope.  It is for me to apply to me.  I need to sit with that myself.  It's using Scripture as a mirror, not a deflector.

I've got a loooong ways to go.  My story involves me surrendering my life to Jesus when I was 19.  Yet my life's story also reveals many areas, time after time, of me handling situations and taking actions that are not indicative of my "faith in Jesus Christ", but rather my faith being placed in myself, others, relationships, money, how other's view me, so on and so forth.  The deeds of my faith, before and after making a decision to surrender my life to Jesus Christ, are being rigorously and fearlessly, to the best of my ability, inventoried as I've set to work a step one in the twelve steps.  Powerful stuff.

And dang...there are eleven more stinkin steps to go?  What a ride...

Though my deeds are not what "saves" me.  They are a representation of what I am or have placed my actual faith in.  Having all the "right" theological beliefs about the world, God, the devil and humanity does me absolutely no good.  They actually do me more of a disservice as I deceive myself into thinking there is security in believing the certain things...in having the "right" kind of faith or beliefs.

What good is having the "right" kind of faith if it's, well...dead?

THIS is sobering...and it all began with me judging the "faith" of another, and then pausing for a moment and reflecting on those auto-pilot thoughts.  Perhaps God, in His grace, turned it around to myself.  For He so passionately desires for me to have faith that is alive and vibrant.  Not a theological or intellectual faith that is dead...but a real one that is alive.  After all, He is the God of the living, not the dead.

For...as James put it in his no non-sense way of saying things...

"As the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without deeds is dead."  (2:26)

Let my faith speak for itself through my deeds, through how I live my life, through my struggles and my joys.

For as the old saying goes...actions speak louder than words.