9 posts tagged “arrows”

I've learned that I'm a weird fighter. Okay, generally I don't fight. It used to be that I'd get frustrated and just avoid, ignore, until it passed or until they got the clue that I wanted nothing to do with them. None of which was an appropriate solution to the problem

Since I've started this program that has slowly transformed in many ways and I feel as though I'm full circle. I was to the point where I'd sit and deal with it right then. We'd talk about what was hurtful, etc. and all things would be resolved. The problem arose when it wasn't really resolved. The thing is, I take a little while to process things. Something can't happen to me and then five seconds realize that it wasn't really about the fact that you shushed me, but it was more about the fact that nobody wanted to listen to me when I was little and that still kinda hurts because then I start believing it again.

So, then I finally realize what the problem really was, but the other person thinks it's resolved and I feel silly for bringing it up, so I don't and then they never really get why I was upset. They only get my this-is-the-only-reason-that-comes-to-mind-now response. It's so frustrating to have incomplete conversations!!

I've since taken up the habit of not engaging in those conversations until I know what it was really about. It appears to be the same pattern as before from the outside, but it really isn't. When it comes down to it, much of the frustration, whatever, had nothing at all to do with that person and only their resemblance to an emotionally similar situation. Once I have successfully identified this situation and processed through it, I feel no need to engage in a conversation to resolve the issue, I'm over it. Unless of course that person is available at two in the morning when I finally get to the root of it all.

The down side is the random awkwardness as a result of my time trying to figure it out. I'm not going to act like everything is okay, but I'm also not going to act like it isn't, so I just don't act (which strangely resembles the acting like something is wrong and avoiding thing). Good times.

I have something better next, honest.

Almost three weeks ago I was sitting in a session and found myself brutally attacked by a dry erase board. Okay, I just have a cut on my arm, but it bled and hurt and there will likely be a scar.

Following the session and my return home, I opted to not put Neosporin or a band-aid or anything on it. Mostly because I had a client a few days later that is a "cutter". I wanted to use the cut in therapy so I didn't want to speed the recovery time. In this decision, I had forgotten that I am a slow healer due to complications with my thyroid. Three weeks later, I'm still healing.

Over the weeks since I was cut I have had a series of comments about the cut on my arm. It is visible to others about 90% of the time because it is just where my wrist and my hand meet (on the top of my arm). My sleeve will scoot up, or I'll be in a shorter-sleeved shirt and there's no hiding it. I've been through the stages and I'm reaching the final stages of healing. I know these stages because I've had my fair share of cuts in my lifetime. While none of them have been intentional, unlike some people, I have still had to watch them bleed, scab over, lose the scab, and slowly shed the final layers until it is completely healed or a scar remains. Sometimes the scab will come off before it is ready, on accident or through intentional removal.

When I was five or six, I broke my mother's vase. To this day, I have no recollection of how it got broken although I've been told by my siblings, who weren't present at the time, how it happened. When the vase broke, a couple pieces of the vase became lodged in my hand. The doctor removed the pieces and stitched them up pretty well. I still have a pretty good scar on my hand, if you look at it. Not obvious, but there.

Both of these instances make me think of arrows. Had the doctor left the pieces of glass in my hand, I might have a different description of my scar. Maybe it would protrude from my hand. Maybe it would have gotten infected and I would've lost my hand. Or maybe it would be just as it is now. I was not given the option to keep the vase in my hand or have it removed. Doctors are required to act in the best interest of the patient and I would almost wager that leaving the shards of vase in my hand would not have been in my best interest.

Such is the case with arrows. Break off the shaft and leave it in...not a good idea. It could get infected, it could cause a malformation in our hearts, or it could make little difference. The question is...would it be worth it to leave it there and find out?

My current cut is still rather tender. There's a spot on it that hurts if it is touched in the wrong way. If I had taken care of it and taken measures to prevent infection through first-aid, it would likely be healed and I would have forgotten the incident altogether.

So, my thoughts then turn to the various ways in which individuals handle their emotional injuries. Do people run for the first aid kit? Do they run to the ER for a small scratch? Do they ignore it and allow infection to follow with risk of damage to other body parts? Or do they care for it carefully, clean the wound, sterilize the area, cover it up until it is fully healed, and then allow it to be uncovered and shown to those around them?

I've met clients who not only ignore the injury, break off the shaft and leave the arrow in their hearts, but also pick at the scab, pour salt on the wound, and show it to others, making themselves vulnerable to further injury in the same place.

I will not claim to be consistent in any of these methods. I've taken care of some wounds, picked at others. I don't know the process by which I decide which treatment a wound gets.

Finally, I'm a blood donor. For years (until I moved and successfully evaded the tracking system of the American Red Cross) I got a call every 56 days requesting another donation. I was more than willing to help, especially when they told me I had "special" blood that was for babies. I'm a sucker for anyone telling me I'm special, sometimes. It may have just been a ploy to get me in, but it worked. Over the years, multiple insertions of a needle in the same area in my arm caused not only my skin to scar, but my vein/artery where they withdrew the blood. It has become more and more difficult for me to donate because of the scars on the outside and inside of both of my arms.

These cuts were always cared for properly because I had professionals doing it the same way every time. Sanitized before and after. The scars healed inside because I had no chance of getting to them and pulling them open because they were under my skin.

I like to think that if we treat our wounds with care, they will heal properly, and the remaining scar will make a similar future injury more difficult.

The difficult part of this is that when we are children we rely on the "professionals" around us to treat our wounds with care. If our wounds aren't taken care of and they are left gaping open for infection or vulnerability to future injury, we will feel no need to care for the wounds we continue to receive as we age because are are already so scarred or damaged that it isn't worth the effort.

Now, there are all kinds of methods of ridding yourself of scars. Surgeries, skin treatments, generous amounts of Vitamin E, etc. So, if you haven't taken care of them over the years, it doesn't mean that it has to stay that way. The scars do not make up the whole body.

Now I wonder, how have you dressed your wounds? Do you display them, uncovered, waiting for someone to notice your injury? Do you take immediate action to prevent a scar? Do you keep peeling off the scab that is meant to protect you so you will have proof of your injury? How do your scars impact your daily functioning?

I am generally not one to forget things. I remember birthdays of people I haven't seen for twelve years. I'm chronically early in 95% of situations. I have made a habit of making very few slips in regard to societal conformity with exceptions to follow.

I am far from claiming perfection on any level, but I would not deny my efforts to make as few mistakes as possible. Or at least...I don't announce my mistakes. It wasn't something that I really connected to anything in particular. It was possible a result of my involvement in a consistently critical environment, but that is about all I pinned it to.

When I was seventeen I was pulled over for the first time. Just a warning, no big deal, no need to share this event with anyone. A year later (not to the day of course) I was followed by a policeman to a friend's house. I was given my first ticket. The court date was set during an evening class I was taking at the local University so I opted to just pay the $67 and go on my way. The only person who knew about it was the friend whose house I was visiting because he was nearly a witness to the citation.

Other tickets followed without a word to anyone. When I got pulled over with my little brother in the car the word was mum and that was that. It was probably my third or fourth ticket when my secret reputation caught up with me. I was out of town for the weekend with a group from church. I returned back in town to run into my uncle who told me that my younger sister spoke in church. Nobody had told me and it was apparently pretty good. By the time I get to my apartment I'm already somewhat upset that I was, once again, excluded from information. It also happened to be the same sister's birthday. The birthday party was well under way when I called. Another family member said they were going to leave soon and I should hurry if I wanted to see them. I jumped in my car and flew to the house. About halfway there I got pulled over and when I got to the house it all burst. Between the exhausting trip, not being told about my sister's talk, the thought of missing out on yet another family gathering, and getting a ticket was far too much to contain. Ask me how I am and I burst into tears. At which point the efforts of my family to dissuade me of the seriousness of my "first" ticket prevented me from withholding the previous three or four. Then it became a funny joke.

If you've ever seen "Runaway Bride" you'll remember the scene at her fourth rehearsal dinner where they're all telling the jokes about her running and she gets fed up, but says nothing then Ike Graham (a.k.a. Richard Gere) defends her to the crowd. Well, if you remember that scene, you know exactly how funny it is to have your mistakes thrown into your face all the time.

Maybe I'm just an easy target. I mean it isn't like the rest of my family does anything wrong. Okay, so maybe they also make mistakes, but theirs are more taboo like having affairs, being alcoholics, doing drugs, sleeping around, you know, things like that. I would love to be at a family gathering and hear people joke about THOSE mistakes instead of the plethora of speeding tickets and car accidents I've collected over the years.

Last week I made a mistake. Our classes generally start at the same time every semester. Morning classes are at the same time and afternoon classes are at the same time. Our Tuesday morning class starts at 9:30 this semester so when I was up on Thursday and just taking my time showering and checking out pictures online I thought nothing of the 9:00 hour. I had plenty of time. At 9:04 my closest friend in the class called and asked me if I was coming to class. "Of course I'm coming to class! What kind of a ridiculous question is that?! It's at 9:30, right?" No. 9:00. "Dangit, on my way!"

I get in class and get the usual flack for goofing up. I get it, I screwed up, it's funny. How stupid I must be to not remember the time of a class we just started. Today I'm sitting in the middle of our Monday family week routine and I got a text from one of my other classmates. It said "Now is class Tuesday at 9 or 9:30? (joke)"

It wasn't funny. I'm sitting in the room with the parents and my fellow interns as I recognize this feeling. I can be half an hour early to every class and then I make one mistake and the jabs don't stop. Maybe they think it's cool because I rarely screw up and they need to remind themselves that I'm human. Yes. Make me cry, I'll guarantee that I'm human. I'm in this room while my professor is talking about whatever it is that he's talking about and I'm just sitting in there crying and it won't stop.

During ropes course training we did a lot of processing (a.k.a. talking about painful stuff) and we were going to climb this wall, but first we were going to talk about our walls. One of mine was my "need" to be right, to know the answers, and not mess up. It was less about the fun because, to be honest, I'm used to people rubbing my mistakes in my face. It was more that my classmate sat in the circle with me when I cried and talked about this months ago and he proceeded to make fun of me for it anyway.

So, now I have to go talk to him and then, on Thursday, if I have to, everyone else.

Today was day one of my first family week. We spent ten and a half hours with the parents of four of the boys going over several things I have already discussed on here: Arrow-->Message-->Conclusion-->Learned Instinct--> "Winning Formula", Core-to-Core relationships, The Systemic Funnel, 12 Trust Bridges, The holes in the heart, emotional continuum, as well as the 8 battle fronts of addiction. I left exhausted and I had already learned most of the concepts already!

Mostly it was exhausting because there were more things about myself that I realized as I was sitting there today. Tomorrow we do not have class (er, I mean, we have "independent study" for class) and we get to go to the "realistic possibilities" group which will be nice. Very rarely are the interns available on Tuesday mornings to go to it, so I that is one more reason I am glad to get to be on rotation during the summer (when the breaks are).

It is crazy to think that a year from now I will be studying for or have already taken the boards. So much to learn

I realized that I've been posting in my other journal things that I could post here, even with the exclusion of names, etc. so I'm going to go back a little, then update from today. :)

April 25, 2007: I adopted a brother today. The process began several months ago, unbeknownst to me, and in the past couple weeks it has been realized that I am his big sister. It is nice to have family so closeby. We were randomly paired together, twice in Basic Counseling class. As we both became more relaxed in our skin and the context of the program we are realizing how similarly we think. This is the same guy that months ago requested a Book of Mormon. Last week we shared a random thought when prompted to think of a random word. Since then we have been joking about being siblings He is about the same age as my actual younger brother. He has two brothers, much older. One of whom died of cancer a few years back. His older brother is 41 and he didn't even come to his wedding. I came home from class and went back up to campus for no apparent reason and we had a very good conversation as he was working the front desk. For whatever reason we got on the topic of family and he asked if I had pictures of my family on facebook. Of course I did. He requested a "tour" and I went through them all. He looked at the pictures and after the first seven or eight he started talking about how great it must be to have a family. He isn't really close to his family, obviously. It is interesting to me that he has such a perspective. Not that I discount my own family, but I have realized on more than one occasion how isolated being in such a large group can feel. He asked about which siblings I am closest to, which one is the "hero" child, etc. He and I are both the hero/golden child which is probably another reason we get along so well. In any case, regardless of the seeming isolation felt in large family gatherings, I would never say that I prefer a smaller family over the one that I have. Sure, sometimes it sucks, but they are mine and they each bring something to the table that has contributed to who I am and that is definitely not something I would trade.

As I was thinking earlier today, before the official adoption this evening. Yesterday I came to the realization that I am not comfortable with the people here that are strongly openly announcing their spirituality and faith. Not because I am against it, but more that, to me, my own spirituality is something I hold sacred and often I feel that is one of the deeper levels of intimacy, at least for me. So, spirituality is not something I constantly discuss. Equally, it seems that people around here feel a need to talk about spiritual things instead of behaving like Christ. Like, if they talk enough then I'll be convinced. In any case, along with spirituality I am realizing that I don't really share the emotional things that are close to my heart, especially those things that bring me to tears. That was never something that was encouraged or accepted in my family. I was the smart one. The intellectual side was encouraged. I would cry, I would be mocked and told to suck it up. So, I grew up in a world where it wasn't okay to express emotion or cry, it wasn't necessarily the thing to talk about deeply spiritual experiences, but it was okay to discuss the basics, and it was okay to be smart, to study, etc. I learned to be the intellectual and exclude the other aspects of myself. The thing is, my intelligence, particularly the areas of my intelligence, was all I knew to share. Unfortunately, nobody else in my family could relate to that part of me because their intelligence was in another area (not that one was more or less intelligent, just skilled in different areas). So, here I am in a world where I am not "allowed" to express my emotions, which were abundant in most cases, or talk of spiritual things for fear of sharing something too private or offending those that don't particularly agree with my own religious beliefs. I realize this is my fault in many cases, allowing myself to be limited, but it doesn't change the fact that I felt a certain way much of my life.

April 28, 2007: Have you ever played a board game, a card game or a group game? If you have had any type of social interaction you have played some kind of game. If not, I'm sorry and you will have no clue what I am talking about. Just go ahead and skip this entry. It will be a waste of your time.

So, when you find yourself playing these games, there are a variety of kinds of people that play these games. There is the ultra comptetitive person, the person who seems to never know what to do or plays at a different pace as the others, there are the ones just playing for fun, and then there is me. I can't remember exactly when it was that I started disliking board/card games, but it seems to have been an ongoing thing. Whenever people ask me to play I often politely decline and then they plead for me to play. I cave, play, and pretty much kick everyone's trash and the people who begged me to play wondered why on earth I wouldn't want to play if I am so good. I am not saying this to boast, I just do some things well. The thing is, I'm really not all that competitive about it. Sure, there's some joke about me being serious about the rules, and impatient, but that's not out of competition. I really couldn't care less if I won or lost, honest. I never knew where it came from, me hating board games, but this week has been a week that has made me really reflect upon that, even without my knowing. Tonight it all came to a head. I was invited to play Phase 10. I went to my friend's house by invitation for dinner and a movie. We all had dinner and instead of the movie, she opted for Phase 10. I've played that game a million times with my siblings, so I was up for it. I had forgotten the horror that board/card games bring. We were about at phase 7 or 8, well, I was at phase 7 or 8 and I passed the phase without anyone else passing it. My friend, began to hit me. Not just patting either, literally hitting my arm. Then when I turned to protect my arm, I began to be punched in the back. This is not a joke, this really happened. So, I move so I'm no longer sitting next to said "friend" and force myself to not think about it along with its connection to everything else this week. I quit trying, quit passing phases and let one of her roommates finish the phases, but I still won points. For me, it was about fun. I like to do well, don't get me wrong, but not at the risk of injury to others' own intelligence/pride. This often happened back in the day, games like Taboo and Mad Gab I just have to stay out of because by the end of the game people hate me either because I can figure things out quickly or because I'm not on their team. I know this sounds really obnoxious and narcissistic, but you really wouldn't understand how much flack I have gotten over the years in situations such as these.

It was while I was sitting in the kitchen at her house, trying to finish the game without winning or crying, that I traced this feeling back. Earlier this week, Dr. Hickmon bringing up my family story. On Monday, purposefully not studying for the Taproots test because I didn't want to set the curve and screw things up for others. The time I was singing in the shower at Nanny's and was mocked for it. My own lack of effort to excel, but rather remain mediocre. I realized that there have been several instances in my own life where I have felt like I was being punished for doing something good. People hate me for being smart, for winning games, for being happy, etc. So, I continue to try, but just so it's not so hard that I'm better than anyone at anything. It changes back and forth. I'm here, so it can't be all that bad, but if you look at my habits for studying, church, friends, family, anything, I do just enough to get by, but not enough to stand out. Not because I don't think I can, but more because in every instance I can remember, I was punished for being good at something in one way or another. This time, literally beaten by a friend. No, I don't have bruises or anything, but our relationship is competely changed and not for the better. I was just starting to feel like this was a safe place, a place I could be good and intelligent, but this past week has made me really question that part of me.

The day I was registered for school in Virginia was the day I was supposed to be tested for the T.A.G. (Talented and Gifted) program at my old school. I went from being a smart kid to seemingly purposely failing all my classes. These weren't hard classes either. Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth grades! Maybe being smart isn't all it is cracked up to be. Maybe people like me better when I screw up...

So, those are the past few days. Needless to say, it has been a rough week. Last night I read the book "The Five Love

Languages". I was at a classmate's house and she was washing the dog and I picked it up off the floor and read it. I had heard about it, but never really got my hands on it. A few months ago I bought a sequel to it called "The Five Languages of Apology" and I wanted to read it before I went to the apology book. It was a very interesting book to read. I can agree with it a great deal and I found myself using it in my session today. The tricky thing is, I still can't pinpoint mine because I'm a little bit of everything. I didn't think I was a "receiving gifts" kind of person, but in the same thought I looked at the bracelet on my wrist from my niece that only comes off to shower and I knew that wasn't true. I suppose it really isn't all that easy because the book is focused more on couples than singles. I'm actually really tired of reading couple books.

I was supposed to have my original first client today at ten, but when I got to the clinic I learned that the appointment was rescheduled. While I was still home I was called by the receptionist and told that she was giving me a noon appointment. It wasn't until I arrived at the clinic that I learned that the client called in tears, so much so that they were nearly unable to give their name. I was really worried about the client for two reasons. One because it was going to be my first solo session and second because the client was in such a fragile state. The session went okay. It didn't go terribly, but I'm sure my supervisor will have a few critiques. That's what they're there for.

The thing that I learned most from this client, more than anything else, is to be comfortable in your own skin, to know who you are and be secure in yourself. To have an identity separate from your kids, spouse, etc. It was a good session though. I think I'll do okay on my own.

**I wrote this Monday morning (obviously) and was having trouble with my computer and posting because I have maxed out space on my laptop. An external hard drive will hopefully solve the problem. :) **

It's nearing 8:30 on Monday morning. I've been up all night. My sleep schedules have been very off lately. Saturday night (or rather, Sunday morning) I didn't get to sleep until nearly 5:30 and out of habit, woke at 7:22, took my medicine and got back in bed, forgetting to set the hour "nap" function to arise for church. I know, I know. Not again. When I finally woke at 3:30 I realized my error and made efforts to redeem myself throughout the rest of the day. I just finished reading "The Unexpected Legacy of Divorce" that I started during Christmas break. I've got double vision with or without my glasses because my eyes are tired.

A classmate loaned me a book called "Every Thought Captive" by Jerusha Clark

 and it was my first reading attempt for the day. I became frustrated with it rather quickly. It would reference scripture, but have a different version noted by each one, with its own interpretation. It amazed me how one person could own and believe in so many different "versions" of the Bible. I'll stick with King James, thanks. So, every time a scripture was mentioned I had mine with me to see what it "really" said. I became bored with the constant need for correction. I made it to the fourth chapter. Chapter four spoke of how we are in a state of "one more thing" where if we reach one more goal, get one more material possession, and we can be happy. It goes into discussing how there is no shortage of blessings from God, etc. and then I came to a group of sentences that prompted me to put down the book. It prefaces this statement by saying that sinful thoughts should be immediately dismissed, but questions desires for things that God may give us and then it says the following.

    "For instance, we know that being married or having a child does not matter ultimately in eternity. There are no husbands or families in heaven; but should we see those things as irrelevant here and now?"

You are kidding me!? It seems almost a contradiction for many to be defending the sanctity of marriage between a man and a woman, claiming it to be ordained of God and yet they don't believe it lasts past this life. Such a sad thought. In any case, I didn't finish the book. There are many other books I needed to read that were assignments and I could find more support for, so I moved on at the risk of offending my friend and classmate.

Next I picked up a small book that I bought over the break. It is called "Begin Where You Are"

and is about nurturing relationships with less-active family and friends. It looked interesting and peaked whatever I was thinking about that day so I bought it. Ninety-five pages later I was done. A short read (obviously) but I cannot say my world is changed by it.

 

 

 

 

Next I picked up my "Pragmatics of Human Communication"

book. I have been having a really hard time reading this book. I made it through half of chapter two for the first assignment (two chapters at a time). I never did make it to three or four. I decided last week that I'd just pick up at five and see if that helped. I didn't make it very far in chapter five either. This time it was just  past two (I remember checking the clock to make sure it wasn't Sunday anymore, haha)  and I was determined to get the reading done. I finished the last two chapters of the book and made efforts to return and read the lacking chapters sandwiched between what I had already read, but my efforts were in vain. I'll finish it, eventually. Probably later this week or even today if I get bored enough before class starts at 1:00.

 

 

 

 

After that I finally returned to the divorce book I previously mentioned. I remember tearfully trudging through the first five or ten chapters when I read it over break. I picked up on chapter 13 and finished it with a little less emotion, but emotion nonetheless. There are many quotes that I marked throughout the book and I will plead your patience as I have made an attempt to whittle down from my original markings. As an introduction to the book, there was a 25-year longitudinal study following children of various families of divorce. Some were due to infidelity, some were abusive relationships, some just didn't want to try anymore and others couldn't handle the "burden" of a child with special needs. Now that I am looking through the pages that I marked nearly two months ago I realize there are many long paragraphs that I have marked. To type out and explain exactly why each passage was important to me would be emotionally and physically exhausting (to add upon my all-nighter in an effort to re-regulate my sleep). Instead I can only suggest that others read it. Particularly children of divorce. It exhibits examples of many types of familial situations and parallels neighboring families, one which remained in tact and the other that divorced. These children were peers. Their parents had similar incomes and were the closest to an alternate reality. It is amazing to see the variation between the two. This includes families where the father was physically abusive to the mother and all other scenarios. Each, with the exception of one, was compared with their intact counterpart families.  I can understand why Dr. Hickmon wanted our class to read this book. I am the only student in the program with divorced parents, but that does not necessarily mean that the book taught me less, or more, than my classmates.

There are two other books I read a few weeks ago that I'm just now taking the time to do my little review. I read "For One More Day" by Mitch Albom.

I had high expectations from the author of "Tuesdays With Morrie" and "Five People You Meet In Heaven". To be completely honest, I have the movies and have seen them both, but only recently bought the books with this one and opted to read this first because I already knew the gist of the other two books. The book tells the story of a man who attempted suicide and lived. It is based on an actual person and the facts in the person's story were found to be consistent. I was not really sure of what to think of it, to be honest. First of all, I'm a little touchy about suicide for a variety of reasons, but I can find some truth in the experiences the man claimed to have had following his attempt. The little promotional clip on the back begins "If you had the chance, just one chance, to go back and fix what you did wrong in life, would you take it?" I can't say that this book addresses that. It isn't a time machine to teach you how to go back and change mistakes you have made. Personally, I'm not a believer in changing mistakes. Withdrawal of mistakes means withdrawal of the lesson attached to it and all of my lessons have been necessary, thus far. I'm not sure if it is the writing style of Mr. Albom or the book itself because I haven't read the other books yet, but there was a distinct impression that I didn't like this one as much as I liked the others (in movie form). Maybe if they make it a movie I'll like it. :)

"Captivating" by John and Stasi Eldredge is the other book I read. For those of you who have been paying attention, "Captivating" is the female counterpart to "Wild At Heart" that I reviewed a while back. Like the divorce book, there are many markings (though fewer merely because it is a shorter book) but to itemize them at this time would be exhaustive on an already long day. Suffice it to say, I didn't like it as much as "Wild At Heart". I found myself wanting for more when it was over, like there was another chapter to be found somewhere and I just couldn't get it.

 

 

There are two other books I started reading a couple weeks ago. The first is Viktor Frankl's "Man's Search For Meaning"

and the other is called "The Birth Order Book".

I don't know why but I've always been fascinated with birth order and the book has pretty much confirmed to me that I am a birth order mutt. The first chapter gives a listing of various characteristics of first, middle, last, and only born children and with the exception of one or two qualities in each list I am all of them. There is no majority in the lists, not even by one. I'll make a point to give that book a full entry, granted I have time.

This past month has been a rough one. I returned to meet my second semester unenthusiastic and unmotivated. My Thursday class regarding Domestic and Sexual Abuse began wearing on me more than I expected and last Thursday I came home from class and cried for no particular reason. The funny thing is, we aren't even talking about sexual abuse yet. I suppose that's not really "funny" but, well, you know. For the most part we have been reviewing, more extensively, the arrow-> message-> conclusion, etc. that we learned last semester. There are some newcomers this semester so we are reviewing some things and getting deeper just for the sake of the context. After having to dig up as many arrows as I could remember last semester and then re-bury them as strategically as I could it was difficult to return home over the holidays without all those messages being repeated in every treatment or mistreatment by my friends and/or family members. Each time I leave that class I feel like there is something I haven't dealt with yet, something I don't remember and it has gotten to the point where it really bothers me. Anyone that knows me knows that I remember, not everything but more than most people. For something to seem to weigh me down so much and for me to have no recollection is distracting to say the least.

In other news, our pre-practicum interviews have been set for March 7th. I'm alphabetically last so I'm last in the lineup which puts my interview exactly straddling the 5:00 mark. I have half an hour to convince my professors that I am ready, but not ready, to see clients. I suspect we will begin practicum the week after Spring Break.

Lastly. There is a banana on my microwave. It is the final banana in a bunch of seven that I bought last week. For those of you that know me, bananas and I have had our fair share of ups and downs over the years. According to legend, we were inseparable. Follow the trail of banana peels to find me. A box a week or something like that. I remember none of this. I do remember throwing up in the back of a station wagon on the way to someone's house, up and down the hills. I have not consistently, voluntarily eaten bananas since that fateful day. There would be days when I was "starving" and had little alternative sources of nourishment but I promise I didn't enjoy it. I decided it was high time that I let bygones be bygones and forgive the banana. After all, fried chicken had done the same to me yet I forgave after a year or so. I think it interesting that the things that happened to be as a teen were so much easier to forgive than things that happened in my first years of school. I can only deduct that it is because I made efforts to care less as I progressed in years. My skin was thicker. I will say this. When I eat this last banana, I'm not going to go out and buy another bunch. I may not reject a dish with bananas in it when presented to me, but I cannot say that my affection for the banana is restored just because I had one every day for a week. I fear our relationship will never be the same. The point is, I'm trying and that is all I can offer today.

*edit: I ate the last banana this morning and it actually tasted good. :) We'll see. I still like apples better.*

Our assignment for last week was to think about our arrows.  I followed through with the assignment and found myself to be near (or at) the point of falling to pieces on multiple occasions throughout the week.  I have definitely learned a great deal about myself in the process, but at three in the morning I understand this concept on a completely different level.  The opposite of arrows is the anchor.  Anchors equally have a message and conclusion, but it is a Divine Instinct, not a learned one.  This is the battle that I have been consciously aware of for several years.  The arrows and anchors of life argue each other on a daily basis.  It decides whether or not I will call my friends.  It decides whether I will speak up in class.  It decides whether or not I will do my homework/read my assignments, etc.  It decides whether or not I'll write in my journal, read my scriptures, and say my prayers.  I'd like to say that the Divine Instinct wins out more often than the learned instinct.  It was Divine Instinct that has helped me make the important decisions, the moral decisions, the decisions to go to school, the persistence in school, and especially the ability to consistently counsel friends when the need arises.

As I was thinking about these two instincts and went to write down questions so I would not forget to ask them next Thursday, I seemed to come to my own conclusion.  My questions:

1) Can arrows be overpowered or overcome by anchors?
2) Do they simultaneously reside within a person or does one beat out the other in the end?

Then I remembered the two-dogs concept.  The dog that wins is the stronger dog.  The stronger dog is the dog that you feed.  I'm still at a point where I alternate feeding both dogs.  This past week, I let the learned instinct dog take over as I thought on my arrows and ignored the anchors.  This next week I'm going to list my anchors, regardless of assignment.  I'm still going to ask in class.  I'm curious about his answer.

I was sitting in class today, listening, and trying to fully soak in what was being said.  As I was sitting in class, hearing them talk about Arrows--> Messages--> and Conclusions . . . something hit me.  I've been thinking about my arrows a lot this past week (as we were assigned) but all of which were pretty conscious arrows in the past, I just never called them "arrows".  As I was sitting in class, something just popped into my head.  Sure, I knew about these events that had happened throughout my life, but I never realized how much it has affected my own actions.  Even this blog is my own attempt at a "winning formula" whether any of you believe it or not.  I can't explain it without going into really sensitive areas and I can't just share my "arrows" with anyone.  It wasn't until after I left class that I realized how quickly the concept "to name it is to begin to conquer it" means.  Almost immediately afterward I had changed one of my patterns.  It's crazy to think of it as something so quickly resolved, so I'm not going to say it is.  It was one case, one instance.  It's not a change until it is consistent, but to realize it has such a . . . freeing feeling about it.  Sure, it kinda sucked to be sitting in class in an effort to prevent myself from bursting into tears at this realization.  Part of me wanted to go back and talk to those people who were unknowingly the administrators of my arrows to help them better understand what happened between us, but that is past and should be left there.

The second part of class we talked about the "relationship onion" and the "emotional continuum" that I spoke of before.  There are more thoughts, more understanding but for now I need a nap.  Driving home tonight.

We're still talking about the CORE model in Hickman's class and we likely will for several more classes. We talked about how each of us have events in our life that have served as significant "arrows".  The idea is, something happens in your life that hurts you whether it is a divorce or your friends rejecting you or just not having any friends at all, anything.  Then instead of pulling the arrow out and letting the would heal, we do like the people in the movies, break off the shaft and just keep going.  Then the tip becomes infected and becomes a weak spot for Satan to get to us and make us believe the message the arrow gives.  The pattern is ARROW --> Message--> Conclusion.  So, let's say you don't get invited to a party that everyone else goes to, that's the arrow.  The message becomes "They don't like me." and the conclusion is "I am unlikeable." In each instance where there is an arrow that is similar it deepens our conviction that the conclusion is true. Eventually it becomes "learned instinct" and we are at a point where we automatically interpret events that aren't meant as arrows to be arrows and confirm the conclusion that we see as unchangeable.  Just as there are things about me that will never change (such as being a girl) there may be things I believe fall into that category regardless of how changeable that actually is.  Not only does this unchangeable feeling leave us stuck in a way, it also puts us in a position of doing things that will support it, setting goals higher than we can achieve just to confirm our belief in ourselves. Of course, none of us wake up and say "I'm going to conquer the world today" and only conquer part of the world, but it is in the smaller things.  Things so unrealistic for us as people that we somehow always manage to fall short.

Then he talked to us about our own arrows.  "To name it is to begin to conquer it." This week we're supposed to list our arrows.  We're not supposed to announce them to the world though, so you won't be seeing my arrows posted on here.  Maybe eventually, when they're no longer arrows, but just thinking about them makes me lose count. There are a lot of them.

I think my favorite part of this model is the idea of "the knower".  The knower is that little voice in the back of your head that tells you that you have a purpose, that you are destined for great things.  In many ways this is like the two dogs concept.  If we feed the voices that tell us we aren't good enough, that nobody likes us, that we aren't worth anything, then that is what we will see and those voices will dominate our minds and our actions. At the same time, if we do things to strengthen the knower, then it will get stronger.

Along with the concept of learned instinct there are things that strengthen the knower.  Instead of arrow--> message--> conclusion is is ANCHOR--> Message --> Conclusion and that is called Divine Interest.  There are events that anchor us into who we truly are and strengthen the knower.