As the Colors Mix and Flow

I made someone late for work this morning. The phone rang to interrupt my sleep and the instant I heard it I remembered. I'd made a promise. I'd have JDub pick my BIL up for work at 6:30.

But, JDub wasn't home when I got the call last night. And then he came home from a date with Scud and fell asleep and then I fell asleep.

And so my sister called me at 6:50 this morning to see what was going on. JDub, wonderful man that he is, threw his clothes on and went to save the day. But my good Brother in Law was still late for work. It was my fault.

Yesterday I had an interesting interchange with a friend. She did something that bothered me and when she asked whether or not it had bothered me I told her the truth. She seemed hurt. But, I decided it was best to be honest. I was not unkind and I tried to reassure her that I wasn't at all angry with her.

She didn't do anything wrong. She was impeccably gentle and good in what she had done. Which might have been worse. Because it made me feel worthless and criticized. I felt like a terrible person for letting it annoy me.

So, this morning I couldn't sleep anymore.

I got up and painted instead.

I painted an image of a face with closed, crying eyes and yellow skin, it's mouth open wide with red, angry lines flying out in all directions. There was a brick ceiling above. A purple circle surrounded her, blocking her from any good thing that could get in.

And as I painted, words flowed through my head.

"You are good for nothing. I can't believe you made him late."

"There are people who go to work, usually on time. And then there are people who paint."

"There are people who do worthwhile things. There are people who are worthwhile."

"You're not one of them."

This is why I paint. As I let my brush flow over paper, I learn things about myself that I seem unable to see otherwise. The images that come to life surprise me, they bless me with new knowing -- the sight of an inner eye that can only see when my hands get messy.

What did I learn today? I am terrified of making mistakes, of being criticized, of people seeing (and, heaven forbid, pointing out) my many flaws. This is fascinating to me.

It is an interesting paradox.

No living person could ever be as unkind to me as I am to myself. It is simply not possible. My days begin and end with an inner invective that would put any drill sergeant in "Full Metal Jacket" to shame.

Yes, I am most certainly an artist. I have perfected my work in the medium of self-loathing to masterpiece level.

As a consequence, the one big thing that makes me bristle more than anything is when someone even implies that something I'm doing is wrong. Even if they don't say it, but could possibly, possibly be thinking it. Especially if I have done something that really is wrong and merits complaint. Or if my children make a mistake and hurt someone and it's possible that it is because I haven't been a perfect parent.

I can barely stand it. This morning I think I figured out one reason why.

Facing my mistakes, knowing that other people know I make mistakes and I am horribly flawed gives this nasty voice inside of me more power, more ammunition. If I am flawed enough that someone else notices, then that means that this witch inside me could be right. There are worthwhile people. I am not one of them.

This bitter abuse I put myself through is juxtaposed with a wisdom that fills and envelops me. I am good, beautiful, kind, generous. I love deeply. I am a daughter of God and if I were nothing else on my own, that is enough to make me wonderful. I am worthy of love and gentleness and forgiveness.

I am deeply loved by many. JDub came home this morning to see me hunched over my painting, tear drops splattering in the tempera. I continued to glide the brush over paper after paper as I told him of my new discovery. I know I am good. I know I am loved. But, for some unknown reason, I hate myself.

He tried to reassure me, told me how much he loves me and how wonderful I am. He is not the only one who loves me this much, who believes in me. I am blessed with friends and family who trust me, love me, enjoy me.

Still, somewhere inside is a voice that keeps welling up and telling me that the virtue others see in me -- the beautiful wholeness I know is there -- isn't who I really am. My goodness is only ever temporary, a pit stop between foibles and blunders and inadequacies. This voice tells me that I am not worthy of being loved.

It is no wonder that it hurts so much when I am criticized or when I let others down. There is a part of me that cannot see a way for anyone to forgive me or love me wholly if I am not perfect. How could that be possible when I can't even stop putting myself through hell for every mistake?

So this morning I continued to paint. I painted rain and lightning and broken ground and broken houses and broken relationships. I painted until the fiend inside my head grew faint and quiet. I painted away a bit of her power.

At last, through all the angry images, came one of peace. A dancing willow, branches and tendrils spiraling gracefully through the sky.

Someone once gave me the warrior name "Dancing Willow". It was one of the greatest gifts I have received this year. It meant that she saw in me the things I know are there, things worth loving -- joy, strength, beauty, protection, nurturing, wholeness, big-ness. These are the things that I know are true.

So the paint began the work today that I know will be long and painful. The problem is not my mistakes, everyone makes them. It is not my flaws, everyone has them. It is not other people and things they choose to do or say in response to or judgment of my actions. And the loneliness I so often feel, the inability to connect intimately with many people, is not a result of who I am.

I must learn to how to interact with this hateful voice that lies to me. Some days I'm sure I'll need to figure out how to ignore or silence her. Some days I'll need to hear what she has to say, acknowledge her good intentions, let her teach the truth she knows and teach her kinder things to say.

Perhaps I can figure out how to be as gentle with myself as I am with others. Perhaps I can give myself the gift of love and forgiveness that I have so desperately been seeking from everyone else.

The haircut post

Finally, the haircut.

I can't find a before picture. I had JDub take one weeks ago when I thought I'd be getting a haircut. Now I can't find it. Picture it longer and curlier than in our family picture.

But, here's what I look like now, in a picture taken by my Mashuga:

Not a perfect picture, but it'll do. I straighten it like this about half the time and leave it crazy and curly the rest of the time.

The haircut was an interesting experience. First off, I meant to go see my cousin's wife, who usually cuts my hair anytime I want to do something drastic. She always manages to do a PERFECT job and get my hair exactly the way I want it. She lives in my hometown and I don't mind AT ALL driving an hour and a half to have her cut my hair.

But, um, I am both phone-phobic and a huge procrastinator. So, I didn't call her until Friday afternoon. Oh, wait. I didn't even call then. I was going to get the phone, really I was. But, before I could, my Mom called to see if she could get an appointment for me. I was both embarrassed (harassing myself about not just picking up the phone days before) and grateful. Well, she was busy. Of course. What is the likelihood of getting an appointment with a good stylist at 5:30 on Friday evening? Really? Pretty slim.

So, my second choice, the woman who always did my hair as a teenager wasn't available either. And I was really ready to let go of my long hair. It just had to go. So, I decided to take my chances with someone else.

I got there, with a picture in hand of exactly how I wanted my hair. It's the way I had it about 4 years ago and I LOVED it.

She cut a little at a time. I kept waiting for inches to fall off, ready to enjoy the catharsis of watching hair fall to the floor -- taking the stories weaved among each strand with it. This was a monumental haircut for me. I have been feeling like new wine in old bottles for quite some time. I was SO ready for a change.

But, no, she took a little at a time and before my hair was even close to as short as I thought it should be, she started blow drying it.

I knew I was in trouble when she told me to lean forward for her to blow dry it. This is a good trick for people with thin or average, straight hair. A great way to add body. I have naturally curly, thick scottish highlander hair. Body ain't a problem. Getting it to calm down is usually the trick.

But, I decided that I'd trust her. She blow-dried it, and used the curling iron a bit to smooth it. Barely. Then, she started looking like she was done. And I started panicking. We're talking serious anxiety here folks.

It looked awful! It looked like a mushroom shaped Maltese had taken up residence on my head.

"Well?" She asked.

I wanted to shout "Are you kidding me????? It looks HORRIBLE! It looks NOTHING like the picture, NOTHING like what I wanted. It doesn't even look GOOD! How could you even ask me that question?!?"

What I said was, "Don't hate me. But, I think you're going to have to cut a lot more off the front."

"Oh, really?" She said. "Okay. I'd much rather cut a little off at a time and then go shorter, rather than going too short."

Understandable, but how on earth is fungus meets frizzball a good haircut?

So, again, she cut little bits at a time off. Until I finally told her she was going to have to cut off inches in the front to get it the way I wanted.

"Like the picture," I said (in my head, not wanting to be confrontational) "I really did bring the picture because I really DO want it to look like that."

We were eventually able to communicate well enough for her to get the basic shape right. Then, it came down to the thinning. Remember what I said about the Scottish Highlander hair? It doesn't like to lay flat on top of me head. So, it must be liberally thinned on the top and sides.

I told her this.

She thinned the back.

I ran my hands through the top and sides of my hair and told her again exactly where I needed it to be thinner. She didn't believe me, apparently, and again thinned the back.

I tried one more time.

Let's just say my hair lays quite nicely in the back.

I was starting to worry that I was going to run out of hair to thin in the back before I was able to help her understand what I wanted her to do.

I decided that it was time to tell her thanks and pay her before it got any worse.

So, there you go.

I do love my hair short and I am glad I had it cut, even if it's not exactly what I wanted. I got out of the shower after I got home and caught a glance at myself in the mirror.

"Oh, there I am!" I thought.

It was wonderful to look in the mirror and feel very much myself again, something I haven't felt about my appearance for some time now.

It's getting longer now and I'm about ready to break down and get it fixed. It really is a bit too heavy on the top, especially when it's curly.

Soo...

I've never colored my hair and I think I might do that this time.

What do you think? Should I do blonde or red highlights? How drastic should I go with the color?

It's Okay to Take a Break. Really.

One of my favorite people and sister Birthing From Within mentors wrote this today:

Potty Break

Not only am I constantly astounded by her gentle, thoughtful mothering, her words today were an answer to prayer. I want to reach across the miles to hug and thank her. Truly, what a gift.

Just to let you in on what I've been going through. I've talked a bit here about the feeling I have that I really need to concentrate on my family and home, on building friendships and community and staying close to home.

In my desire to do this, what I really feel like I need to do is to just stop mentoring Birthing From Within classes, completely stop doing doula work. It would mean a cold-turkey, cut-and-run from some things that I am terribly passionate about and love very much. It feels like the right thing to do on one hand, on the other it seems completely unthinkable. It would be a bit like cutting off my left hand, or at least a few of the fingers on my left hand. I have not been able to reconcile this feeling that I need to take a break and let go with the passion I feel for this work, the way it has made me grow and blossom as a woman, mother and friend.

Then, I read my friend's post and it was just what I needed to hear.

It was both humorous and enlightening to imagine myself as an antsy 3 year old who doesn't want to stop what she's doing to go potty.

I can just see little Heather bouncing around and whining, "NO! I do not have to go! I don't want to stop what I'm doing! What if the game is all over when I get done."

And then, there's the sweet, mother Heather (in BFW language, we call her the love warrior), who is stroking my hair and saying "It's okay, sweetie. It will still be here when you get back and you can play then. And won't it be so much more fun to play with all of the other girls when you can put your full attention to it and not be distracted by the pain of knowing that you need to be somewhere else? Won't that be much more comfortable?"

And then Miss Judge comes in to protect me and says "Yeah, and you're not a lot of fun to play with right now anyway. I know you really want to be involved and helpful and great at this work, but really, you are just not able to put the energy into it that everyone wants you to put into it. You're probably bugging them and they might not even like you as much as you like them. After all, the other girls are really going for it, getting involved. And you. You just kind of hang around. You don't do much because you have to spend all of your time with your baby and your family. You're kind of a loser right now."

Mother Heather looks sternly at Miss Judge and wags her finger. "Now, now, we shouldn't use words like that with people we love. First of all, it doesn't matter what all of the other girls think. What matters most is that we're happy and that WE are being kind and good to others and doing what's right. And I'm sure that the other Birthing From Within mentors are glad for any contribution Heather can make, no matter how small. They're all exceptionally nice, loving and understanding women"

Miss Judge butts in here, slightly humbled but mostly indignant. "Well, if they're happy she's contributing, which I doubt, then they won't understand when she just stops teaching Birthing From Within for an indefinite period of time. They might even be angry. What if she even takes YEARS OFF? Nobody will even remember her then. Then, not only will she have been a sub-par mentor for a while, but she will have to start all over again from scratch. And what if everyone is just annoyed?"

"Oh, sweet Judge. You're so good to want to protect Heather. I hear what you're saying," Mother Heather, Love Warrior says with a patient, knowing look in her eye. "It might be different when she comes back. It really might. And some people might not understand her decision."

At this point, little Heather pipes up, her big blue eyes welling with tears. "Is that true?" She asks. "Is it true that things might be different? That some of my friends might not like me anymore or that they might not even be there or even remember me? What if Brooke and Isabel and Virginia and Linda and everyone else have gone on without me and I'm all left out? What if Pam forgets me, too? I'd hate that. I really don't want to go!"

"Oh, honey. I know you don't," Mother Heather says. "And yes, my darling. It's true. It might be different. Some of your old friends might be gone. But you can make new friends. And Pam might forget you. But, you can get to know her again. And think about this. Things might be different when you get back to BFW. They might be very different. But, what if they're even better?"

This time both little Heather and Miss Judge Heather cry out in unison, "But what if they're not!?! What if it's worse?"

"Well, then, we're pretty good at this stuff. If things are worse when we get back, and we've waited until we really have the time and energy to devote to Birthing From Within, then we can volunteer to make it better. We can do that. And if that doesn't work, then we can find something else we'd rather do."

"I don't know. I'm not sure I like that either," says little Heather. "I like Birthing From Within. I don't wanna do something else. What if I never do Birthing From Within again? What if that? That would make me sad."

"Sure. It might. But do you remember that time when you were absolutely sure you wanted to be a concert pianist or a choir teacher when you grew up?"

"Yeah."

"And you're not a concert pianist or a choir teacher now, are you? And that's okay, isn't it?"

"Yeah. It is. I just don't want to do that anymore and I'm happy with what I'm doing right now. I don't really feel sad about that because that's what I USED to want to do. Now, I just don't. But, I don't really ever see me feeling that way about BFW. I want to do it again if I can't do it right now."

"That's great, honey. Let's plan on that. This will just be a short break and then you can come right back to BFW. And if it's different, with different people and whether it's better or worse, you most certainly can jump right back in and enjoy it and really make it work well, for you and for everyone else. And if you don't want to do it anymore, and that's the only reason you won't do it again, then it will be okay with you, just like it's okay that you're not a concert pianist. You'll still have just what you want. Sound good?"

"Yeah, I think so," Little Heather squinches her mouth to one side, like she's thinking really hard.

"You can't just think so! You've got to know so if you want to make this work. You'll never be happy otherwise," Miss Judge interjects.

"Miss Judge!" my Love Warrior Mama Self says. "You know I love you and appreciate you for all you do for us. You really want to protect little Heather and I am grateful for that. But right now, we have things under control and it's your turn to be quiet. Is that okay? Can you do that and trust me to take care of Little Heather? I promise I'll do a good job. Is that okay? Can you let us figure this out without you from here on out?"

"Okay. As long as you promise to do a good job and ask me for help if you don't know what to do. Promise?" Miss Judge looks at Mother Heather expectantly.

"Yes, my dear. I promise."

"Pinky swear?"

Mother Heather chuckles. "Pinky swear."

"Okay," Miss Judge agrees, folding her arms contentedly across her chest.

Mother Heather turns to Little Heather. "Do you think you can be okay with this now? With taking a break? I promise to come with you and to help you. And I promise to help you figure out what you want to do and how to get back into things when your break is over. Sound good?"

"Yes. That sounds good. You'll help me? You'll help me know what to do?"

"Yes, I will."

Little Heather runs off happily to take care of business and do what most needs to be done right now.

And so, here I am, left with my Love Warrior self to try to figure out how to make this work. That I need to take a break and focus on my family is a certainty. Now that I've talked to my sweet little Child and Judge sidekicks, I feel comfortable doing this. I know it's the right thing to do and I'm at peace with my decision.

So, all that's left are decisions. Do I make it a long goodbye? Do I take the time to finish up my certification requirements before bowing out for a while? Or do I plan on a very short break and a re-evaluation in a few months to decide whether to finish my certification? Or do I just stop for good and plan to start fresh in a couple of years? Do I keep my toes in, continuing to go to retreats and check the message board and listen in on conference calls? Or do I just say goodbye and trust that it will all be there when I come back?

I still have decisions and plans to make. But they should be significantly easier now. Up until the time I read my friend's post this morning, I had not recognized that my confusion on the matter was coming from the fact that the little child in me was in the driver's seat with my judge shouting criticism and advice from the backseat.

Things ought to go much more smoothly now that my wise, compassionate and courageous adult self (you know, the one who actually has a driver's license) is now behind the wheel.