Gathered home, at last to be
safe within God's family;
loved and cherishing likewise,
viewing others sans disguise.
Generations bound so fast
that none will ever be outcast.
Gathered home, at last to be
safe within God's family;
loved and cherishing likewise,
viewing others sans disguise.
Generations bound so fast
that none will ever be outcast.
THE PROBLEM:
Here’s the background:
Yesterday, Sunday, I was sitting in my living room trying to find something good on Netflix or TCM to while away the rest of the day. I was feeling low and dispirited, and I said a silent prayer that one of my nearby kids might come for a visit. Because even if they only spend ten minutes, that always cheers me up.
Lo and behold my youngest daughter Daisy drove up not a minute after I’d prayed, to ask me if I wanted to go for a walk with her, since the weather was so fine and she had been in the neighborhood visiting a friend anyways.
“I would love to!” I told her happily. “But just give me a minute, will you?”
I was suddenly completely nauseated and had to run into the bathroom.
When I came out I realized that I couldn’t go anywhere for a while that afternoon, so I sadly told Daisy I’d have to take a rain check. We hugged and she took off, since after the walk she was going over to my daughter Sarah’s house for dinner.
I love knowing my kids feel they can come over unannounced anytime they want.
So what happened to me?
I can’t figure it out. I was feeling blue, but not physically ill before Daisy showed up. When I saw her little car out of my patio window I was ecstatic -- I think I even shouted out loud in joy. Then suddenly I got a terrific bout of nausea, which kept me from going out with her. We’ve gone out many times before.
Can you offer any ideas or insight into this strange reaction?
The only thing I can think of is that, psychologically, I enjoy playing the ‘victim’ to my children’s ‘neglect’ so much that when something threatened this mental construct my body immediately sabotaged me to keep me from acknowledging the reality that my children don’t really neglect me and do like my company.
Such a self diagnosis frightens me -- it indicates a deep ‘glitch’ in me that I’m not sure I can fix by myself.
Any input you can offer will be appreciated.
*************************************************
THE RESPONSES:
I was on the phone with Sarah yesterday, probably during that exact time because she told me Daisy was arriving any minute, explaining to her that I keep putting myself in these situations where I am completely overwhelmed with everything. Almost as if my body craves being in that state because that’s my “safe space” and I know how to handle it. I think we all have something like that, a sort of ingrained level of anxiety that we lived in for so long that we mistakenly believe it’s the right way to be. Is there hope for us? I think so, and I think the first step to changing is noting there is a problem. There is your Dr. Madelaine Diagnosis!
Dear Tim,
I'm not sure how exactly to advise you, but there is something familiar about this. I find myself regularly slipping into melancholy nowadays--more so than when I was actively working and I think it may have something to do with trying to handle idleness now that I have so much unstructured time on my hands. When I was busy with the printing business, I often had little time to wile away. I would frequently be working late into the evening responding to emails and printing posters that would need to be delivered the next day. With that gone now that I am retired and in much the same temporal circumstances as you are (basically home-bound, with little regular need to leave the house), I have a lot of time for reflection. I find not all of it is good reflection. I have a natural tendency to brood over past failures/mistakes, etc., which still trigger feelings of sorrow, shame etc.
I have been told in the past that I live life like a victim--wallowing in self-pity, not believing that any effort will actually yield positive results but, rather, only expose how weak I am inside with the consequence of being horribly humiliated. (That has reminded me of a statement by Eric Hoffer, that "the resentment of the weak does not spring from any injustice done them but from the sense of their inadequacy and impotence." In short, the weak "hate not wickedness" but themselves for being weak--in other words, self-loathing). I tend to resist other's efforts to extend praise when I have actually done something praise-worthy, even while at the same time I crave such praise. In other words, I want it, but can never convince myself that I deserve it. There may be something in there that comports with your desire to see your kids, while at the same time reacting in a dysfunctional way when they actually do show up (I don't deserve this nice gesture, etc.).
Your observation that this is a "mental construct" rings true. I think isolation and inactivity frame us into a state of mind where we cannot see our value (Look up The Changing of the Guard episode of the Twilight Zone series 3, episode 37 on Netflix--it always brings me to tears). I noticed this past summer that a daily mood-elevator for me was spending an hour or two working on the landscaping project I set for myself a year ago. I would lawn-edge a perimeter around the home which I would then fill with crushed rock within which I could then plant bushes, shrubs, etc. Abutting the edging on the lawn side I would set into the ground one-foot-long "bullet pavers" that would give a nice look to the edging as well as serve as a "mow strip" (which means you run the mower with the wheels on one side over the pavers and would therefor not need to use a weed-whacker to give it a nice trim). It was a 300-foot project which meant digging a trench and inserting (and leveling, and straightening) 300 pavers. Then putting down the plastic edging and then covering the space to the house with landscape fabric and finally spreading about 14 tons of crushed rock. I did everything by myself except spreading the rock. I had the Elders quorum assist and 8 men (all much stronger than I) did the job in one hour.
My point is, having a project to spend time on (this took from about April, when I picked up the pavers, to October, when I had the brethren spread the rock) gave me a reason to get up and doing and also gave me a reason to feel that I had done something worthwhile during the day. I also learned that I could accomplish a big task by breaking it up into smaller ones, such as setting a goal to dig 20 or 30 feet of trench one day and then set 10-15 pavers the next. I could see the project progress day by day, and that was a satisfying experience. It helped break the "mental construct" that I was a ne'er-do-well and now has got me thinking of other yard projects that I might want to do next summer. Like actually planting some bushes and shrubs, etc., and cutting the grass real short and then spreading several tons of pulverized dirt over it to fill in all the low spots and end up with a smooth lawn where you won't twist your ankle walking across it, etc. Interestingly, this project got me used to the idea that I didn't need to get everything done in a day or a week. If it took all summer (which it did) that would be OK. My usual response to long-term goals is to get overwhelmed at the very thought and give up, because it was obviously hopeless (note I accounted a summer-long project as a "long-term" goal. None of this several-years type of thing like pursuing a coursework regimen to obtain a degree--even my college years were broken up by military service and working, etc.).
But, now that yard work is done for the year, I need, and am trying to impose on myself, some other "routines" that help to break my normal negative "mental construct." I try to pray in the morning, first thing (note I said "try"), and then read some in the Book of Mormon and then "try" to listen to a conference talk or two (Joanne is much better at this than I am) and I have several books checked out that I--occasionally--dip into in order to fill up my time.
All of these efforts have the effect of pulling me, at least a little bit, out of my negative mental construct that I think is partly a result of being at that time of life where I am not as physically strong or flexible as I used to be and I see myself as being a "needy" person, something I've never wanted to be. Also I tire more quickly and fear myself as being in my "waning" years.
So, I don't know the causative elements of your psychological mystery, but there may be some concrete practical actions that can mitigate it's effects. Sacred music I find also helps a lot. Abide With Me and Praise God From Whom All Blessings Flow are two favorites. Listening to the words of such beautiful hymns never fails to choke me up. (Even writing this clouds my eyes). President Eyring observed that feeling the spirit is evidence that the atonement is working in your life and can be a means the Lord uses to send the message that you are forgiven. Another thing I have a very hard time believing. I definitely do not have Joseph Smith's "native cheery temperament."
I hope something in there helps...
Jim
I used to feast on spicy food/when I was in a fiendish mood/but now my tummy and my tongue/remind me I'm no longer young/the burning and its aftermath/put me into a warm sitz bath.
a sink full of dishes awaits my inspection/I view them as sinkholes of filth and infection/if I had a dishwasher I would feel better/so I'm sending you this quick fundraising letter.
I wish I owned some Clorox stock; I'd be a millionaire/then on a private isle I'd sit without a single care/in fact if I were really frank and had a heart of brick/I'd look forward to more people getting mighty sick!
My t-shirt has an odor/but it is not boutique/it has a hint of rancid/ and of the dead antique/but if you'd like to scratch it/I wouldn't turn you down/just be prepared for tingles/of something dropped and brown.
Fed with manna in distress
God his children all can bless
when they travel in his light,
shunning wrong and doing right.
Sunday mornings as a child were peaceful, sweet, serene/my mother made us sweet rolls and there was no TV screen/Now it's ramen noodles and the cable channel squawk/How I wish the airwaves had not ever learned to talk!
Muffins in the morning are a thing of wonder, natch/whether from a bakery or made at home from scratch/blueberry or honey, they are sunrise to my tongue/as long as I can get one in the morning I stay young!
when going to a Trump rally/I suggest you do not dally/the lack of all veils/will just hammer nails/into your own coffin for Kali.
indulgent facebook lets the trumps/post such lies they give goosebumps/consequences are so weak/facebook's street cred turns oblique/checking facts don't seem to be/much of a priority/zuckerberg rakes in the cash/while the country's going 'crash!'
lemongrass and seaweed are for feeding of livestock/since otherwise the greenies start to boycott and to mock/for cows and sheep are belching like a house ablaze, you know/their methane gas will strangle us if farting doesn't slow/smart cookies are investing in the algae of the sea/selling it to ranchers for a bunch of dough-re-me.
Feast upon the words of Christ
for nourishment that lasts;
for strength to stand the devil's shoves
and all of mortal blasts.
Read and ponder; pray and plead --
in this you can be sure
that God will give you sustenance
when life becomes obscure.
I will brave the winter snows/or if a tornado blows/still my ballot I shall cast/even though I am harassed/I will exercise my right/even if it seems so slight/I want Washington to hear/my small voice both loud and clear!
all the judges that are Trumpish/seem to always be quite frumpish/when it comes to vote restrictions/within their own jurisdictions/fewer voters means, I guess/to them a Trump success.
when you are the president/you can always circumvent/rules and regulations by/playing like you're Captain Bligh/anywho, the FDA/seems to function just that way/they lay down real constantly/so the prez can play M.D.
people now cook ev'ry meal/in their homes, which makes me feel/spices soon will disappear/from our market shelves I fear/I will not be very meek/if I can't find fenugreek/and if turmeric does wane/my cuisine is all in vain!
The moon shall not shine forth
when Reckoning is nigh.
The stars will disappear,
and Sun with bitter sigh.
Only light from Christ alone
at that time can then be shone.
Preparation is the key
to a glad eternity.
We have but one life, one chance;
don't let folly lead your dance.
God can make us strong enough
to call any devil's bluff.
Uncle Sam is warning China's neighbors, left and right/that Beijing is a bully and a braggart and a blight/but should these neighbors get into a border crossing fray/they will find that Uncle Sam is staying far away.
I won't go back to work today/no matter what my boss may say/unless he brings in caviar/some blinis, and a movie star/and even then I may leave early/if my salad greens ain't curly.
Gray wolves are endangered, but the White House juggernaut/has removed protections so the critters can be shot/Wouldn't it be pleasant if we had an open season/on those Oval Office wonks who led this wildlife treason?
I predict Election Night descends to chaos gayly/giving us a show like the old Ringling, Barnum, Bailey/Three rings of absurdity that frolics until daylight/then a sorry mess that will continue just to stay trite.
waking up at three a.m. is not my cup of tea/I'd rather have my knee caps broke or swallow a tepee/I know that if I stay up I will zombie-like become/and if I try to hit the hay to worry I'll succumb/and so I putter with light verse, none of it terrific/since it seems to work on most as a soporific.