Embracing Peace and Wallowing in Joy

I had an aha moment reading Martha Beck’s article “Wild Life” in the December issue of O magazine. I’ve been thinking about writing a blog on watching for the pockets of joy this holiday season. It’s so easy for us to focus on what we don’t have. What we think keeps the holiday, or our lives for that matter, from being “perfect.” 

I do want to encourage you to embrace the holy-moments. The times when you see how truly blesses you are. How far you’ve come, the good decisions you are now making, the times when you were in the right moment at the right time. Let gratitude wash over you. Savor it.

The article in O gave me some additional insights. According to Martha we’ve lived with so much drama in our lives, that when times are peaceful, we create drama. We start to dwell on what’s not right, what could happen, what happened years ago. Man, that hit me right between the eyes. Yes, we are drawn to conflict. TV, books, games all depend on conflict to keep our attention.  We’re hounded by it every day.

As Martha suggests, Suppose, we make the decision today to embrace peaceful moments? We stop our brains in their tracks when we find our thoughts jumping onto the drama carousel. How would your life be different if you embraced a tranquil moment and savored it? I mean really got down and wallowed in the deliciousness of its joy? I think I’d find myself less likely to seek out drama and more anxious to live with peace.

That’s my goal is for this holiday season and beyond. What is yours?

Hope/Hopelessness

In this season of hope, I think of how victims of DV live with both hopefulness and hopelessness. No one is more hopeful than a victim of abuse. It’s one of the main reasons victims stay, believing that their partner will change at any moment and everything will be okay. We have to think that way because our perception is that there is no way out of the relationship. Since he controls the relationship, we know that only he has the power to change things. 

It’s interesting that both hope and hopelessness can co-exist within us. In that twilight zone juncture, pondering “do I stay or do I leave,” these two emotions become all consuming. If we leave, hope keeps us questioning and doubting our decision. Having been taught not to trust our own judgement feeds into that dilemma. “But he can be so wonderful.” “If I hadn’t [insert partner’s favorite reason why you ruined things] everything would be okay.” Though we understand that our partner will always find fault with us, we continue to hope that we can be better, good enough. And, we hope that we can find the magic solution to heal/fix/cure our partner. When we face the fact that we cannot change anyone but ourselves, hopelessness overwhelms us.

Our partners promise to change. They cry, plead, and beg us to stay or return. If that doesn’t work, they pour on the guilt. They needs us, we’re taking their children from them, causing them to lose their job, ruining their reputations. (Notice nothing’s said about how they’ve destroyed our lives.) If that doesn’t work, it’s on to threats. They’ll kill themselves, us, the children, our families. All the time ramping up the pressure on us to stay or return. Worn and exhausted hopelessness sets in.

Some partners say that they hate what they are doing to us. That indicates that they know what they are doing is wrong and should not be repeated. Anyone who knows what they are doing can stop doing it -- if they really want to.

We beg God to change our partner. Since God has given mankind choice, God does not change anyone without his or her consent and cooperation, he or she has to do the work. That means an abuser has to take steps to stop the behavior. The first step -- go into batterer’s treatment. Second step -- do the work and complete the program. Third step -- do whatever is needed to stay on the right track. Any effort less than that means there will be no change.

Another thing we struggle with in this twilight zone, is that all the effort we’ve put into the relationship will be lost if we leave. “Wonder if he does change?” “Someone else will reap the benefits of my work and I’ll have to start over with someone else.” If he hasn’t gone into treatment serious about changing, he’s not going to change. His behavior isn’t about who we are, it’s about who they are. The victims are interchangeable. 

This is the season of hope. I know it can be hard to face the holidays when you're alone, recovering from abuse. Everything around you can remind you of lost dreams and hopes. Everything seems to reek of love and family closeness, sending you into a tailspin of hopelessness and depression. Suddenly you’re remembering the good times and discounting the bad ones. This is when you need to hold strong. If you haven’t made a list of what you love about him and what you’d change, now’s the time. Write down the truth of how you’ve been treated. If you stay or return all those bad behaviors will continue.

To get to a better life you will have to be uncomfortable for a time, just for a time. Let me assure you that you can have hope -- hope that your future will hold a better life for you and your children. The path is not easy, but hang in there. This Christmas celebrate how far you’ve come. Do your best to focus on the blessings in your life. Try to concentrate only on today and trust that the future will take care of itself. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other, meet the challenges of each day and you will walk out of the darkness. All of us who have been there are standing with you, holding you in prayer. 

May the grace of this season touch your heart and peace surround you with it’s comforting and joyous glow. 

New Traditions

Traditions never seem more important than during a holiday season. There are symbols to embrace, special foods, and rituals for all faiths. Woven into those, are our personal family traditions. After divorce, those change. Sometimes, drastically.

I’m thinking about the first Christmas after I left the violence. It fell on my family of origin’s “off” year, the one when my siblings go to their in-laws and my parents, snowbirds, to the warmth of the southern states. Trying to ease my guilt over leaving my ex (why we feel guilty when we are trying to stop the cycle of abuse is beyond me) I allowed my children to go with him that first Christmas. This meant that on a family-oriented holiday, I would be - alone. 

I knew I’d feel relief that I didn’t have to spend the time in anguish, waiting for the big blowup that would decimate the night. The midnight service at my new church was a given, a personal tradition. But there were many hours to fill before the service started. How would I like to spend that time? That was a hard question since I hadn’t acknowledged my own likes and dislikes in many years. I needed some new Christmas Eve traditions.

After my children left with their father, I set about creating my evening, starting with a trip to the grocery store for a steak to broil and a potato to bake. Christmas music on the radio accompanied me as I prepared a delicious meal that I ate at a lovely place setting with my best china and crystal. As I sipped a glass of wine and enjoyed my dinner, I felt at peace. Gratefulness filled me, and I began thanking God for guiding me and being with me through all the pain and struggle. My kids and I were living without a lot, but you can’t put a dollar amount on how it feels to come home to a safe place where you can be who you are, say how you feel, and know, no matter what, you are loved.

After dinner, I watched my favorite Christmas movie, It’s a Wonderful Life. Jimmy Stewart as George Bailey learns the truth that every life matters. As someone who’d been told she was worthless, this movie deeply touched me.

That week we received 36 inches of snow. “The most we’ve seen in years,” the forecasters said. But it was beautiful. White and blue diamonds glistened in the moonlight. My breath crystallized in the air so cold it stung my nostrils as I trotted out to my very frosty car and started her up.

I love Christmas Eve late-night services, the church filled with music, poinsettias, and candles. The story of hope and promise unfolded, and I felt awe once again. As I tipped my candle to accept the flame from my neighbor, I remembered my favorite Christmas image. My children at 4 and 6 years old, each clutching a candle. So proud to be allowed to hold one. Their faces bathed in the soft light as we lifted glowing candles against the darkness and sang Silent Night. The memory-filled me with joy.

When the service ended, church members called Merry Christmas to each other as we drifted into the cold, star-covered morning. I drove home, still wrapped in the warmth of Christmas carols and the promise of hope for the future. 

That Christmas Eve was a blessing and remains a fond memory.