If you looked into my eyes…

If you would have looked into my eyes two weeks ago,  and had the fortitude to lock eyes with me for more than a few seconds, you would have seen brokenness and pain.

Our eyes really are windows to our soul.

I discovered that truth on a whole new level last weekend.

I need to back up just a little…..

A few of you who know me personally, know that I have not been able to cry since  I was 16 . (I’m currently  54)

I can pinpoint the  day it happened.

My brother and I were  wrestling and it went from a good natured match to an all out fight.  He kicked my butt.  To make matters worse, he was a year younger  and it happened in the presence of my mom and dad.

I wept.

I can still remember the shame and humiliation.  I swore in my heart I would NEVER  Ever, experience that sort of thing again.

NEVER.

Well, unbeknownst to me, somehow, deep within the recesses of my soul, I flipped a switch and could no longer cry.  Only once in the 38 years since do I remember weeping…I won’t go into that now, just to say, it was in the midst of some intense emotional pain.

So last weekend during the course of a men’s conference, one of the things we covered was the fact that all of us have areas in our hearts of brokenness and shame. …

Things  people have said to us.  (or not)

Things we’ve intentionally done that nobody knows except us.

Broken relationships.

Abuse

Physical things about ourselves we are ashamed of.

it might even be your name….  the list is endless, but the results  are still the same.   We begin to  carry around this ever increasing load of hurt and shame.

I was able to identify 4 very specific hurts last weekend.

That situation with my brother.

Secondly, a vague but very real, dislike for how I looked as a youngster growing up:

My name if you can believe that..

and finally, on a very personal note, the fact that I was a very late bloomer…didn’t physically mature into late into my senior year of high school.   The shame and embarrassment of those years in high school  really did a number on my self esteem.  Gym class was Hell.  Yep, I was a runt all through high school.  Not the last one picked when we chose teams.but one of the last.

All of it is  bull shit (that’s german for garbage) .

Another word picture…

Our hearts are full of  cracks. They leak like a sieve….and until those  hurts are brought into the open and addressed, we will  attempt to fill those cracks with anything that  gives  temporary relief.  Food, shopping, sex, alcohol, people,  $, our jobs, blogging, e-mail, face book, video games, hobbies taken to excess, etc.

None of it lasts.  Before long,  I’m  looking for another fix.

The food addict, is  no different than the shop-a-haulic or the sex addict.  All three of them are dealing with the same crap, just going about it in different ways.

If someone cared enough to look to look  deeply into our eyes…no sunglasses on …. they would see the pain.

To make a long story short, God touched all 4 of those hurts in a very specific way.

I no longer feel their weight.

I look @ that picture of my younger self and like what I see. I LOVE my given name,  (my real name isn’t Doug btw/ it’s Douglas) I am in touch with my emotions…(I wept at least 4 or 5 times last weekend) and finally, I’m OK with being a late bloomer. I suspect it  saved me from a lot of heartache.

I’m sure  there are  probably still  pockets of brokenness to discover, but for now,  I don’t have the same compulsions to check e-mail, face book , or even blog…all ways I think I was trying to connect with people in a way to satisfy the longings in my heart.

Thanks for checking in.    DM

The Sinkhole Syndrome

If my private world is in order, it will be because I am convinced that the inner world of the spiritual must govern the outer world of activity

_________________________________________________________

The Sinkhole syndrome

The residents of a Florida apartment building awoke to a terrifying sight outside their windows.  The ground beneath the street in front of their building had literally collapsed, creating a massive depression that Floridian’s call a sinkhole.  Tumbling into the ever-deepening pit were automobiles, pavement, sidewalks, and lawn furniture.  The building itself would obviously be the next to go.

Sinkholes occur, scientists say, when underground streams drain away during seasons of drought, causing the ground at the surface to lose its underlying support.  Suddenly everything simply caves in, leaving people with a frightening suspicious that nothing – not even the earth beneath their feet – is trustworthy.

There are many people whose lives are like one of Florida’s sinkholes.  It is likely that at one time or another many of us have perceived ourselves to be on the verge of a sinkhole – like cave-in.  In the feelings of numbing fatigue, a taste of apparent failure, or the bitter experiences of disillusionment about goals or purposes, we have have sensed something within us about to give way.  We feel we are just a moment from a collapse that will threaten to sweep our entire world into a bottomless pit.  Sometimes there seems to be little that cane be done to prevent such a collapse.  What is wrong?

If we think about it for very long, we may discover the existence of an inner space 0f our private world- about which we were formerly ignorant.  I hope it will become apparent that, if neglected, this private world will not sustain the weight of events and stresses that press upon us.

Some people are surprised and disturbed when they make such a self discovery.  They suddenly realize that they have spent the majority of their time and energy establishing life on the visible level, at the surface.  They have accumulated a host of good and perhaps even excellent assets such as academic degrees, work experience, key relationships and physical strength or beauty.

There is nothing wrong with all of that . But often it is discovered almost too late that the private world of the person is in a state of disorderliness or weakness.  And when that is true, there is  always potential for the sinkhole syndrome.

We must come to see ourselves as living in two very different worlds.  Our outer, or public world is easier to deal with,.  It is much more measurable, visible, and expandable,.  Our outer world consists of work, play possessions, and a host of acquaintances that make up a social network,  It is the part of our existence easiest to evaluate in terms of success, popularity, wealth, and beauty.  But our inner world is more spiritual in nature.  Here is a center in which choices and values can be determined, where solitude and reflection might be pursued….

….Our public worlds are filled with a seeming infinity of demands upon our time, our loyalties, our money, and our energies.  And because these public worlds of ours are so visible, so real, we have to struggle to ignore all there seductions and demands.  They scream for our attention and action.

But there is a private world in every one of us.

A world that may be as infinite in size as we perceive our public worlds, to be.

From the book Ordering Your Private World by Gordon McDonald

__________________________________

I  DM read those words in 1987 as my personal world was on the verge of a   sinkhole collapse.

I was 29 years old.

to be continued…

Jim…A Memorial Day Story

Jim and Tanner* grew up as childhood friends, so it was only natural that the two of them enlisted  when it was time.

They went through basic training together and before they knew it,  found themselves in the same company on active duty in the Viet Nam

It fell to Jim  to pick the point man for  patrol that morning and he picked his good friend Tanner.

You’re familiar with a point man right?

That’s the guy who is out in front, checking for danger….

Half way into the their mission, Tanner takes a direct hit from a sniper and is killed.

Because of the nature of war, Jim tries to deal with the feelings the best he can..

But they never really go away,  a callous forms over the pain but it’s still there.

20 years later, Jim still struggles with survivor’s guilt…

If only….

If only he had not picked Tanner…then he might never been killed

If only…..

Years go by and Jim needs to take a trip to the East coast.

His route takes  him past the town where Tanner is buried.

A part of him wants to stop and pay his respects,

but another part of him doesn’t.

Jim’s friend Steve encourages him to do it...

“What’s the harm?…you never know, it might do you some good…”

Jim still doesn’t make up his mind until he’s passing through town.

He decides to stop.

He sticks an American flag into the ground next to Tanner’s marker, stuffs his name and address into a small plastic bag, tapes it with electrical tape to the flag pole before he leaves.

When he get’s home,  there is a message on his answering machine.

It’s Tanner’s mother.

She thanks  Jim for making the effort to stop by the grave

She leaves her phone number.

Jim tells all this to his buddy Steve.

Steve asks him if he’s going to call her?

What would she say if she knew I was the one who picked Tanner for the point man position?

What if she knew I was partially responsible for her son’s death?

In the end, through the encouragement of his friend Steve, Jim does return her call and good  come out of it.

Tanner’s family opens their hearts to Jim,  and makes him part of their family.

He fills some of the void that Tanner left behind.

But still there is this dogging dread in the back of Jim’s  mind.

What if they find out the truth??????

Then what?

Steve tells Jim to not think about it, cross that bridge if and when  he comes to it….

One of Tanner’s family s calls Jim to thank him.

Thank him for the healing that he has brought into the life of his mother….

seems that before Jim’s visit, Tanner’s mom would go to the graveside every day.

Didn’t matter if it was raining, or snowing….

every day she grieved….

For 20 years.

She hadn’t been doing that since Jim had come into their lives.

Forth of July, Jim is invited to spend the day with Tanner’s family.

When he get’s there, it’s a full house…all of Tanner’s extended family…aunts and uncles, cousins..the whole clan.

Tanner’s dad mentions they have an awesome pond out behind the house and asks Jim if he would want to try and catch some bass.

As they’re sitting in the boat…just the two of them, the thing he’s been dreading about for 20 yrs happens….

The other shoe drops.

Tanner’s dad asks Jim point blank...”How did Tanner die?”

He wanted the truth

What he was really interested in was knowing if his son had suffered?

Jim tells the dad the whole account…tells how he was shot by a sniper, How it was a head shot, Tanner was gone before he hit the ground.

“Thank you.”  Tanner’s dad tells Jim.

“Thank you for telling me the truth.”

When they get back to the house Tanner’s dad shows Jim a stack of letters from the army.

They talk about Tanner being transferred from one hospital to the next…

Until they finally get a notice that he had died.

“I always wondered what really happened.. his dad said…Now I know, because you were there.”

Because Jim was willing to take a risk and stop, he set in motion a whole bunch of healing.

And none of this might never have happened if not for the gentle encouragement of his friend Steve.

_______________________________________________________

I (DM) was on the phone this morning talking with Steve.

Steve had called to check up on me.

Told me this story about  Jim.

I told Steve this whole thing reminded me of that movie “It’s A Wonderful Life.”

How  that simplest little act of  kindness  you or I may do can  ripple out and touch a whole bunch of people.

 

“Teach me to number my days that I may get a heart of Wisdom.”

* Tanner was not his real name.

Fighting a heavy heart

“Unrelenting disappointment leaves you heartsick, (heavy-hearted)

but a sudden good break can turn life around.”

That’s me.

The first part of that statement.

Words are powerful so on one hand I do not want to give voice to the negative thoughts that bombard my mind

So I’ll tell you a story about someone else.

      Last  year I attended a teachers orientation @ the local community college.   There were 30 some of us. We were an eclectic mix.   An older teacher sat across the table from me.  The more he talked the more I felt sorry for him.  He had a pronounced lisp. Drove an old car.   He was a former jr high history teacher.  Long story short.  the guy was just getting by financially.  He did not radiate optimism.  I was embarrassed for him.   Had looser and failure stenciled on his forehead.

I’ve only been depressed (as far as I can tell) once in my life.

and I feel it coming on. 

My emotions are starting to flat line

I have lots to be thankful for, so I try to focus on that..but it hasn’t helped.

My friend Don is a lot worse off than I so I went to  see him yesterday.    His place was  a pit when I got there.  His wife is battling cancer, she recently left him, charged him with all sorts of stuff that is total nonsense.  He suffers from PTSD, is severely overweight. yea, compared to Don, my life is a cake walk..but that still doesn’t fix my heavy heart.

If you’re curious as to what’s got me by the scruff of the neck  you can read this post

(Things have gotten crazier since I penned that.)

Physically, I am in good shape.

  I’m active, working outside- brain is not turning to mush sitting in front of a computer for hours

(I only mention that because in the past these have been contributing factors to a mid winter funk)

So I’m doing everything I know to stay on top of things  (guard my thought life, reach out to others, get physical exercise and eat right) and I’m not shaking it. 

 Long term disappointment can apparently do that to a person

I didn’t really want to be around people yesterday (Christmas / family get together)

Listening to what some of them  spent this year on gifts was disgusting. especially, when I was going around our house last night  checking the wattage of light bulbs, trying to think of ways to save a few dollars.  talk about humiliating.

Sorry if this post is a downer, but when I started this blog, one of  my goals was to keep it real.    DM

When You Loose a Child…

     Note to reader:  

        In 2003 I began the practice of using a  3 ring binder  to save the highlights of that year-photos, good articles, personal correspondence, etc.   I was thumbing through my 2004 journal this past Sunday night and came across   the following  piece by Carole J Dyck R.N .   She writes to parents who are dealing with the loss of a child, although I think what she  says could  apply to other times of grief as well.    Wanted to pass it on as a future resource.  DM

_________________________________________________________

       The use of the word “closure” is often heard in public circles or in the media especially after a tragedy and implies finality.  The word comes with the sense that there will be a time, day, or event like a funeral that marks when a grieving person will be “healed” or “over it”, as though it were a disease and you could magically take a pill to be cured.  There is an expectation that when the eulogies are said and the casseroles are gone, the grief somehow magically goes away.  The truth is that…the death of a loved one changes our lives forever, and we will never truly “be over it.”  Yes, we will not have the intensity of the pain and sorrow we had at the beginning of our grief.  We will go on with life and find new normal for us, but live will never be as it was before the death, and we will never be fully “healed.”  Sometimes those around us have attempted to comfort us by pointing to deadlines, replacements, or “at leasts.”  We have heard it said,”At least you have other kids,” or “You can have another baby,” or “hasn’t it been 6 months?”  Many see “comfort giving” as a short-term support effort, and soon we will be “over it” as we are kept busy returning to the tasks of daily living and focusing on our blessings.  These comments hurt rather than provide the comfort they are meant to provide.  Grief follows no plan, stages, timetable formula, or schedule.  There are no road maps; there are no absolutes.

      We learn….that everyone grieves differently.  Grief is like being lost.  The familiar things we relied on to live each day are gone.  We must find new anchors or stabilisers along the way and learn a new way of relating to the world and people around us….Grief is all consuming, distorts reality, and we begin to mark our time in “before or after our loved one died.”  No one can hurry the process of grief, no one can do it for us.  Not even our spouses, parents or other children can help us in those early days.  The truth is that when our grief is new, we feel exhausted physically, emotionally, and spiritually.  We barely have enough energy to breath.  We feel as though we have no control over our lives anymore, nor do we care.  We realise on some level we are helpless.

      All of these feelings are normal and part of the grieving process.  And yes, we also need to realise that it is a process- a very long gradual and difficult process.  Time does not heal all wounds, but time softens the intensity of the grief.  What helps is finding those who will listen with their hearts and give us hope and understanding.  Those who will spend hours, days and months with us as we tell our story over and over so we can somehow believe it ourselves.  What helps is to surround ourselves with those patient people and meaningful activities that comfort and support.

      Gradually, the cold darkness of grief beings to give way to the warmth of the memories, acceptance, purpose and reinvestment in life.  We learn to speak of our loved one without crying and begin to accept that whatever time we had with him or her, we would have taken even if just but a moment.  We learn that grief is the price we pay for loving our child or sibling so much, and we wouldn’t want it any other way.  Our relationships with family, friends and yes, even God can be strengthened or challenged as we look for new ways to connect with them.  We may lose old friends who really don’t understand.  We learn that problems life are not overwhelming.  We are handling the worst thing that can happen to us, what else can happen?  We learn to more deeply cherish those we love.  We help others in grief without batting an eye.  Sometimes we pickup “gifts” along the way by becoming more caring, compassionate toward others, and appreciative for what is important in life.  New strengths can develop as we find our new selves along the way.  Life will be different as we learn to cope, but still have meaning.

     For those of you who are new in your loss, we hope that you will continue to share your sorrow with us and learn from those further ahead on the path of grief.  Someday it won’t hurt as much as it does now, and you won’t always feel “this elephant on your chest.”  We encourage you to ask the family and friends around you for what you need and tell them when their expectations for you are too high.  We hope you will explain to them that your grief is not on a timetable and will probably not ever reach what society calls “closure.”  Explain to them that you will always miss your loved one, but you will learn to live with a broken heart.  We hope you will inform them that the mention of your loved ones name is music to your ears and it’s okay to talk about him or her.

                   Written by Carole J Dyck R.N.

      Thoughts, comments, questions?

Writing Your Own “Bucket List”

      At the end of your life, as you’re laying on your death bed, I’m guessing you’re not going to say to yourself…”Boy, I wish I would have put in more hours at my job”

     I’ve signed up to teach a 4 week course at our local community college I’m calling Creating Your own Personal “Bucket List”   a spin off of the movie by the same name.   Do you know what’s funny- before the movie came out, I had  been working off of a personal bucket list for at least 10 years- didn’t call it that, but that’s what it was…so when I saw the movie, I thought to myself…hey/ those guys stole my  idea. 

     Here’s the course description:

     Treat yourself to four weeks of fun, laughter, and personal reflection.  The Bucket List is a list of things you might want to do before you “Kick the bucket.”  Local Author and teacher DM will act as a facilitator using various activities to help you begin your own bucket list.  Class size limited.  Begins Feb.3 4 weeks  6:00 PM- 7:30 PM     $35.00

 

     Here are some tidbits from my class notes  since chances are, you won’t be able to make it:

    As the facilitator of this class, I will have succeeded  if : 

A.  By the end of the week 4   you to have a list  of at least 10 items on it.

    We will discuss :

     What is leisure?

     What does “relaxing” look like to you?

     What’s the difference between  leisure, relaxing  and hedonism?

I have 4 or 5 handouts,  3 guest  speakers in  mind (besides myself) , an excellent book  to recommend and a movie to watch. 

 In the early 1980’s I read a book by Tim Hansel called  When I Relax I Feel Guilty.    It had more of an impact on my life than I realized at the time….here are two excerpts from the book:

     “ If I had my life to live over again, I’d try to make more mistakes next time: I would relax, I would limber up, I would be sillier than I have been this trip. I know of very few things I would take seriously. I would take more trips, I would be crazier… I would eat more ice cream and less beans; I would have more actual troubles and fewer imaginary ones. You see I’m one of those people who lives life prophylactically and sensibly hour after hour, day after day. Oh, I’ve had my moments, and if I had to do it over again, I’d have more of them…”

     “Do something unusual. Be an experimenter. Meet new people, try new experiences. Let people think you’re loony. Wear a funny hat or put your shirt on backwards for a day…’ Hug a tree, fly a kite, wear a button, jog in triangles. Go for a long walk in your bare feet. Poke some holes in your rigidity. This is not a time to be timid. Take a chance, it’s worth it.”

    Thoughs, questions, comments?

Good Grief, That was 13 years ago

     

 

          I came across  the  picture Sunday night.  Facebook mentioned one of my friends had been tagged in a photo.

          Some of you talk about “triggers,” well, this photo  triggered something.  It  triggered  a heaviness  that was  almost palatable.

      Today at work,  that photo  and the accompanying  heaviness  came back to my mind several times.

     I didn’t understand.     I didn’t even know 1/2 of the people in the photo,  the ones I did  were  smiling.

       and then it hit me….

     I was  grieving

       Grief.  

      The picture triggered a wave of  grief that is 13 years old.   

     I didn’t think grief was supposed to last   that long.

           A good friend of mine is  still grieving the loss of a child, 4 years later.   He recently compared his   grief to  waves on the ocean.  
     Initially the waves  were strong, one after another… Four years later, they’re  further apart.

   

      Have you experienced grief in your life?  As I’ve alluded to, grief can come into our lives for lots of different reasons.

     If  you have experienced grief  and feel comfortable, would you tell me about it?  I suspect this post will generate a lot of hits long term.   What sort of comfort, insight, hope, wisdom would you give the person who stumbles across this later.  Please don’t give any pat  answers on this one.  I’m not interested in  theory.  Speak only of what you’ve experienced first hand.  Thank you in advance. DM

The Night The Dam Burst (or living my life without a mask)

   I can still remember the night the  dam burst, the night I said what I was really thinking.  I was 20, the kind of guy you could  bring home to  mama,  and as phony as a $3.00 bill.  I was a relational chameleon.

         M and I had been dating for 4 months and I sensed her starting to withdraw   (just like 4 other girls before her.) 

       We were sitting on an  old stuffed coach in my bachelor’s apartment…she talked of moving to out of town, not really sure what she’d do or where she’d work,  but was feeling restless. It  was @ this point,  something inside of me started gushing…. out of my mouth came  my frustrations, my confusion, my sense of insecurity.  There I was telling her what I was really  thinking, and it was exhilarating

      Charles Swindol wrote a book called  “Dropping Your Guard”   where he talks about the value and power of  authentic relationships, living life transparently, without masks.  That book changed my life.

     I read a post by Sanityfound   this week where she talks honestly about her choice to live life with child like abandon.  Don’t let her sometimes silly come backs throw you…she is articulate,  wise beyond her years (suffering will do that to you ),  reading that post  gives me insight into why she does what she does…it’s an intentional choice.. In my life, different issue, same result…once I tasted the freedom and power of living life without a mask, there was no way I was going back. 

      I loath  (I know that ‘s a strong word but it is how I feel), I loath mask wearing and pretense…give me an honest respectful  conversation any day.

     One of the highlights of this past year blogging is I have met  people who have  taken off their masks with me.  They may still chose to remain “anonymous”  to the public at large,  but with me , they have pulled back the curtain of their lives and we’ve  connected on a deeper level.   They know the real me and still  they  are willing to call me their friend.

      I know some of the reasons why I wore a mask.. (low self esteem, past hurts, feels safer to wear mask than risk even more hurt, bla bla bla)..but do you know the price tag we pay  for doing that?… a lonely life, because  nobody knows the real you.  you would be amazed at the number of people who will love you anyway..and Christians by the way are some of the biggest mask wearers there are…we think we have to be this perfect person in order to effectively represent the God we profess to follow…when in fact,  our life is a joke. 

    Thoughts, questions comments?

Meet: Mrs DM

Grandma and  new grandson

 

Today’s guest blogger is none other than my  wife.   She wasn’t sure what to write about so I gave her some possible questions….here’s the one she picked:

1.  You were on medicine as a teenager- why?  Where are you at in all that today?

     Hummm, Opening up my life does not come naturally or easy for me.  But I know Doug will be delighted if I’d accept his invitation to be a guest blogger.  So, Doug, here goes!

__________________________________________________________________

  Some of you entered adulthood  having grown  up  in less than an ideal home.   Me too.  As Doug alluded to in his question, I was on medicine (antidepressant) as a teenager.  I was hospitalized twice and under psychiatric care for a couple of years.  It was a dark, scary time for me.  I felt hopeless and helpless.  I was confused.

     I came from an alcoholic home.  Three unwritten rules in an alcoholic home are

DON’T TALK

DON’T FEEL

DON’T TRUST

    These are emotional reactions that eventually become baggage in adulthood.

(taken from a Focus On  The Family Radio broadcast- Adult Children Of Alcoholics)

     I also come from a family with a very high propensity towards mental illness.  At the age of 18  I decided to stop the meds and counseling.  My thinking was I should be able to handle this on my own….my Christian faith should carry me through.  Over the course of the next twenty five years  of marriage, 4 children, the good times and bad,  I experienced anxiety, panic attacks and  depression.

     Today I am meeting with a counselor and I am taking meds again.  And for me,  this is a good plan of action.  The meds I take at night provide  restorative sleep. The meds I take in the morning enable me to keep my head above chronic depression, and anxiety.  The counseling I’m in is helping me to replace the unwritten rules  and to come out of emotional numbness.  I am learning  to identify and experience  my feelings.  

  If you’ve come from a similar background or your parents were  preoccupied  with something other than their children, I would recommend this CD and book by  Focus On The Family.

  

Finding My Voice Part 1

      Pushy people come in all shapes and sizes.

    

    It could  be your parent, pastor, co-worker ,boss, sibling, friend or even  classmate.

      Last week a friend  came back into my life after 15 years.   He is one of those people that often  left me drained after a conversation.  I discovered something as we talked…..I’ve changed.   I used to  keep silent in the face of challenging questions or opinions offered without invitation.   The intimidation  and pressure I felt as we talked felt so familiar and strong but instead of me  resorting to  the  doormat mentality  (which was my old pattern) ,   I verbally pushed back. 

         Yea me

      Some people have no problem speaking their mind, standing their ground.  My friend Amber strikes me as someone like that     She is a person you want in your corner.

     I would describe myself as starting out on the opposite end of the spectrum…..People Pleas-er to the Nth degree….yuck.

     I believe finding your  voice is a transferable concept. 

        I’d like to take  the next two posts to talk about this life skill.  I’ve certainly not arrived yet, I know there are things some of you can teach me, yet at the same time, I have grown..significantly, and it would be selfish of me to not at least share what I’ve learned.  Here’s what I’ve discovered so far:

   #1  I look at all of life  like  a Continuing Education Program.  (I’m not just making this up …this is one of my life metaphors.)     15 years ago I identified  people pleasing  as a problem.  (That is half the battle, identifying the issue.) Three years ago  I found myself working for a pushy contractor,  (I’ll call him Mr Pushy)  I thought to myself: “Good, he will  force me to speak up on occasion,”

     Quick story…

        March 2007 , my cousin passed away.  Friday, the day of the funeral,  my employee’s went in to work for  Mr Pushy without me.  Monday morning  Mr Pushy leaves  a message on my cell phone  whining about how little got done on Friday.   During the 20 minute commute to work  I had a chance to think long and hard about whether or not I wanted to continue to work for him…by the time I got to work, I  was hot.  

        The first thing out of Mr Pushy’s mouth, “Did you see what your boys got done on Friday?”    I was standing about 2 feet in front of him and I let him have it.  It was  an out of body experience,  like watching my dad.  In the 18  months I’d worked for him , not once had I  gotten upset.    I discovered in that conversation that pushy people sometimes push us as far as they do because we let them.  It is intentional.  They  sense we’re intimidated,  they know  they’re crossing the line asking us to  put up with things they would NEVER put up with  themselves….don’t loose sight of that.

     #2  I have been  proactive in seeking to grow.  I signed up for  an assertiveness workshop sponsored by a local community college.  We roll played situations, looked at a list of “rights such as:

         I have the right to change my mind  (since that weekend, I regularly exercise this right just to stay in shape)

        I don’t have to tell you why  (although I may choose to do so)

       Learned how to  say the word “NO” and not feel guilty   ( I could write a whole blog post on just that point alone, in fact I think I will)

     That weekend workshop cost me $25.00 at the time and the last time I checked, because I’d learned some new ways to respond in certain situations,  I’d recouped that money 100 times over (Honest)

    Well, that’s part one, any questions?  comments? suggestions?  Thanks in advance for your comments!