If I Wasn't Damaged...,

I think I know why this blog has come about. I've known for years that I had a belief system that was "flawed". It was born from societal pressures, my family's many dysfunctions, but mostly my own inability to take the time to sort out what it is I do believe in. And I propose that our beliefs are a very big part of our own unique identities. Sometimes we have beliefs that serve us well for a while, and then we outgrow them over time as we change and mature. And then sometimes we've just been sold a bill of goods, and we haven't taken the time to realize that these beliefs directly conflict with our own personal truth. I've been in therapy during two separate times in my life and both occasions were to help me with compulsive eating issues and general emotional angst. There were some repressed memories that came back, but somehow through it all I came to the fundamental conclusion that I was inherently flawed. I was simply damaged goods. Yeah, life was rough at times, and you've got some big scars, Lauren. That's just the way it is, so you need to make the best of it and get on with life. For many years now I've automatically operated on this basic premise. And like damaged goods, I'm wasn't worth as much as a whole, intact, normal person. After all, the sort of things I went through just don't happen to good people. Yet I've found out something amazing through this blog. In writing out my list of who I think I am, the word damaged came up a number of times. Seeing it stopped me in my tracks. And I was a bit shocked, frankly, because I really don't believe it. Sure, I'm far from perfect. I'm human and uniquely flawed in the quirky way that only I can be. And I make some whopper mistakes. But now that I'm 48, I feel somewhat embarrassed to admit that I bought into the belief that I was damaged without really questioning it. It's weird to recognize that I am  strangely comfortable  with being damaged and not too quick to dispel this belief that I just sort of took in without really questioning so many years ago. To tell you the truth, I'm sort of in love with the crazy and imperfect way I operate in this life, and I see it my own blessed journey with all the lessons I have learned and those that are yet to come as a gift from God. I am surprised that now I have this incessant yearning to punch through the many ways in which my current identity is flawed. This isn't really news to me. I've suspected I had this whole identity thing wrong for over 30 years. I just didn't DO anything about it, or didn't have any idea of what to do about it. I guess I wasn't ready. But I am now. So, Dear Readers, I wrote down the belief "I am damaged" and stretched to to it's conclusion in writing to see what would come out of it. I created this writing exercise that I'd like to share with you here.
I wrote down the phrase, "If I wasn't damaged,...(fill in the blank)..." and finished it over and over again until there was nothing left. I had over 100 statements before I was tapped out. I wrote things like, "If I wasn't damaged, my parents would have spent some time with me," and "If I wasn't damaged, my siblings wouldn't have left me home alone." And as I read over my writings, a miracle happened. I learned that the belief "I am damaged" is one hundred percent untrue. It was a liberating and powerful experience! So, Dear Readers, if you suspect that you have self-esteem issues like me, do the "IIWD...," exercise and see what comes up for you. I bet you'll be surprised that you don't believe what comes of it either. Sometimes, to get past a flawed idea, we just need to give it some attention to see if it floats or sinks. In this case, mine sunk. I'm hoping that the ones that are nagging at you will sink as well. Happy sailing! Lauren

Masks after Halloween

It is the day after Halloween. Yesterday I had an unexpected revelation. I was sitting at the weekly Catholic Mass I attend with my family, singing a familiar hymn, when the lyrics that I had uttered several times before hit me like a bullet. The song was "The Summons" by John L. Bell (c) 1987, and verse 4 starts reads, "Will you love the 'you' you hide if I but call your name? Will you quell the fear inside and never be the same? Will you use the faith you've found to re-shape the world around, through my sight and touch and sound in you and you in me?" I was so instantly choked up, I could not sing another word. My kids glanced my way nervously. I never stop singing - especially in church. The truth of those words singed my very soul. How often I hide the real me to be politically correct, to fit in, to avoid conflict, to be liked and accepted. Wow! And though it was Halloween Day, I realized that this blog which attempts to uncover the real Lauren Dayton has a superhuman task ahead in taking the mask away which I wear every day. So, Dear Readers, I ask you to consider what masks, if any, you wear now that Halloween is over. Have you worn them all of your life or just created them for new circumstances. What masks did you ever wear in the past that you no longer need or use? Maybe it's time to throw out the costume wardrobe and shine from the inside out. It's a task I'm going to take on, and I think I'm going to have a lot to write about from here on. Have a great Monday!!! Posted 11.1.10 1:28 P.M.

Chilling Out

My to-do list grew exponentially before my feet hit even the ground this morning. I must do a heck of a lot of sorting, processing and organizing when I sleep, because the state of my head is never calm, and rested as I wake up. But as I add that to the list of characteristics that make up Lauren, I have doubts as to whether that subconscious activity is really a good thing. I mean, NO WONDER I'm tired all the time! I lack the capacity just to "be". Often my husband will just go out on our porch swing or our deck and sit. Just sit. He just takes in the end of summer, the look of our property and birds and nature around him. And even more importantly, he enjoys it all as he takes it in. Wow! Do I ever slow down enough to enjoy anything? I think the answer is no. I don't enjoy food as I eat, I don't enjoy conversations I engage in, I don't enjoy completing the tasks I'm doing, I don't really enjoy much of anything. And as I lumber along toward the big five-oh!, is it any surprise that I'm feeling panicky and unfullfilled? Again, the answer is no. So, Dear Readers, ask yourself when the last time was that you took a chill pill? Was it just a spontaneous moment during and average day, or did you have to be on vacation in a remote location in a foreign country? And how often do you allow yourself the luxury of just "being"? I think I'm starting to understand why it is that those who meditate are happier in life. Hope your day is "enjoyable". Lauren

Being Verbose...,

My family says that I really didn't start talking till I was four years old. And I haven't stopped since! I have always been a talker. In school, that was the main reason I would get in trouble. As I grew older, that "chattiness" evolved into being what others dubbed as a "great communicator." But now, I think it's just plain annoying. And it's pretty much a waste of effort. I can say in seven paragraphs what my husband can say in seven words. He's concise and direct. I elaborate ad nauseum. Just ask my kids! I see how their eyes glaze over when I'm telling a story. And now that wordiness has also translated into my writing. My gosh, these posts are each like chapters from an epic novel! Time for me to shut up. (This is gonna be HARD!). Lauren

Seperation Anxiety

My ten year old was so excited this morning, he could hardly contain himself. As he packed for his class's overnight trip at this neat local nature camp tonight, he was amazed that he wasn't even hungry for breakfast. Now this kid hates waking up - not because he's tired but because he wakes up so ravenous every morning. As I dropped my two youngest kids off at school, I felt my stomache suddenly lurch. My little man skipped toward his friends loaded down with duffle, sleeping bag, tackle and fishing rod. My daughter turned around suddenly. "Bye, Mom! I love you!" she shouted unashamed. My throat got tight as I waved and tried to smile. Darn this separation stuff! My stomach ached all the way home. Jeeze, I haven't felt like this since,.... two hours ago! That was when the gold '97 clunker zipped away in the rain carrying my high schoolers who took just a millisecond to beep goodbye. I crossed myself as I always do (having a child learn to drive is an exercise in pure faith!), and I slowly trudged in to wake up the little guys. I wondered what Rob was doing in India, and my stomach did it again.
Now, I really didn't realize that I was this bad. When it comes to comparing myself with the "normal parents", I know I am a freak. I feel tugs at my heart and stomach each and every day. This also happens when my husband leaves for work in the morning. But I have gotten better. Most of my friends are in serious party mode on the first day of school. I've learned to just nod silently when they say, "Aren't you ready for school to start?" Why cause an uncomfortable pause in the conversation? After all, they wouldn't know what to do with me if I told them the whole truth.
I think I did great when Rob left for India last Saturday afternoon. I carefully planned for the goodbye all morning. Once he zipped out of sight, I quickly tossed a basketball at one of the kids and the somber mood of the four little Daytons was quickly dissapated. Not bad, I thought. Then Rob suddenly roared back down the driveway, and he sprinted into the house. All five of us stood there silent with our mouths hanging open. He then proudly trounced out of the house holding up a neck tie as if it was a great prize. "Knew I forgot something!" he shouted. "Love you all!" Then he was gone. Then the damn broke. The basketball rolled slowly down the driveway after him along with all five of our hearts. And this time, no one raced after it to pick it up.
Seperation has always been a thing with me. I guess it's from watching my sibs all leave for college when I was 6, 9, 10 and again at 11 years old. I felt so lonely watching them each go. It was hard for me being so young back then. Then when Rob and I were finishing our educations, we actually spent 4 years (actually 46 months, but who's counting?) in a long distance relationship. There were times when we didn't see each other for six weeks at a time. And I always tried not to imagine him getting in a car crash or finding some other girl as he drove out of sight. I think some of that "being left behindness" will always be with me.
Now sad as it is, I still think that this quality is a good thing to realize about oneself. And this year, as my oldest races through her senior year toward college, I know that I will need to brace myself for the biggest challenge yet. I will be extra careful not to hold her back with my personal feelings. Just because I quit full time litgation practice to stay home with the kids doesn't mean they have to be tethered to me forever. On the contrary, I was the one who pushed her to go on that Europe trip last spring break. She's a homebody, and it nearly killed us both when she left, but it really was an awesome adventure for her. Sigh! I really don't think this is going to get any easier as time goes by. And all the teenage moodiness, tantrums and hormones really don't help one bit! Multiply that by four, Laur, and that's the gig you've got.
So in closing, Dear Readers, take a minute to examine how you deal with seperation. Are goodbyes no big deal for you? Or do they bring you to your knees? Are some harder than others? I suspect that is the case for most of us. And I also guess how we deal with seperation will change as we mature and, oh no!, grow up. I would like to quote that great poet Eminem who hit this emotional lyric with precision:
"Life is neverending pain,
so you get the lidocane,
and you watch them leave
out the window
guess that's whey they call it window pane."
Maybe rap is closer to normal, everyday life than we "adults" would ever care to admit. Have a great day, Lauren Posted 10:32 EST

What's Eating at Me?

I just threw down a McDonald's meal in like 30 seconds. Stymied, I put the empty wrappers in the garbage in slow motion. I was actually tempted to see if I had dropped some of the food on the floor of my van. I couldn't have actually eaten that whole thing so fast, could I? Wow, Lauren, did you even chew? Did you taste any of the food? The anwer on both counts is no. And as I take a deep breath to see what's going on, I can feel the hard lump of food in my stomache. Wow, Laur, what's going so wrong in your life that you would actually do that to yourself? Good question. All morning I have been consumed with task achievement. I always seem to maintain this huge list of things to do that I hack away at daily but never seem to conquer. Tick two tasks off the list, and three new ones appear as if by magic. I even woke up with a knot in my stomache because I had forgotten to do two really important ones yesterday. Wow! This sounds familiar. Didn't I write about this before? I searched through prior posts to this blog, and Bingo! It jumped out at me from June 14th. Again, I've slipped into being a Human-Doing. Again, I woke up to thoughts of not being enough, not accomplishing enough, and not having any inherent worth. OK, it's time to re-think this line of rationale - Again! I am not what I DO. I could just sit here all day staring out the window, and though that would be very hard for me, I would be just fine. I am just fine. I am alone now at this moment because the kids are in school and my husband's out of the country. But being alone is not the same a being lonely (thanks for the distinction, Andy!). I don't need to construct this non-ending list and chop away at the items each day relentlessly to convince myself that I am justified for just existing. And while I'm at it, I need a nap. Fair enough. So, Dear Readers, when your life starts going so fast that things get blurred, slow down and see what's really going on. Try being present in your own life (another blog entry from June). Is it just your way of coping? I can testify that inhaling fast food at warp speed is a really lousey way to handle life when the walls are closing in. So may your blood pressure be lowered, and may you taste, feel, see, smell and hear the wonderful life that is around it. You are worth it, and so am I! Take care, Lauren

Organizing you Life

I just realized what control freak I am. I belong to an adult School of Rock class at a local music studio, and all summer we had a date for our final concert during which I will demonstrate my newly acquired Jaggar-like skills as lead singer. Last week, our teacher realized that she also has a gig on that date, and our concert was rescheduled for this Friday. This Friday?!? My husband is in India till Saturday. My two oldest kids are playing in marching band for the biggest annual high school rival football game in the county that same night. None of my other relatives are available either. (Explicative in CAPS!) When we showed up for a practice the day after Labor Day, our teacher forgot she had scheduled it. Disappointed!! Now, our teacher is awesome, and I really like her a lot personally. But screw ups like this drive me nuts! With four kids in school and my husband out of the country, my life is scheduled down the the minute. Stretched this thin, I work hard to do it all, but my best estimate is that I will run at about 90 percent accuracy. There will be forgotten basketball uniforms, lost lunch slips, and unpaid field trips. That's a given. But again, I work hard to get all the accuracy I can. I just don't understand those that don't put any effort into coordinating their life but who expect the world to just "deal" with their mistakes.
Growing up, I had a very disorganized family environment. Organizing things was the one way for me to take control and add some sense to my crazy, confusing existence. And so I did this from a very early age. I really didn't think that this was an important part of my identity, but I guess it is.
Two weeks ago we buried my brother's ashes. My mom scheduled this ceremony with the cemetery and let everyone know when it was. Period. That's it. "Well, what are we going to do at the cemetery?" I asked. She shrugged. Leaving this thing open-ended didn't bother her in the least. But I will tell you it deprived me of sleep! After all, we had relatives traveling in from Arizona for this thing. There was no official or priest or anything set up to guide us along. When I asked her about that little fact, again, my mom shrugged. It was as if to say, "Oh, well. I don't know". But she knew. She knew full well that I would swoop in and organize it all. And just as if it was scripted in a movie, I spent countless hours researching what the heck one does when they bury a loved one's ashes. It took me no less than 4 hours on-line to finally dig up a ceremony on a UK web site. I found out the Roman Catholic Church's take on such things. I found lots of prayers and readings for each and every one of my family members so they could take part in the ceremony. And I had it all printed out neatly for them to deliver orally on the day in question. (Those with longer roles got theirs by e-mail.) Wow, my family said to me, you're really organized. Oh, I guess I am, I said (light bulb going off). Organization. It's one of my best qualities. It helps me sleep at night.
We just had all of my family over our house since everyone was in town. Being unable to host it themselves, one relative wanted to do all the food. I agreed. Then with the writing on the wall (I know this person's history!), I made sure there was plenty of food and drinks available in case their part of the deal fell through. Like clockwork, this person waltzed into my house an hour after everyone else got there with arm fulls of groceries ready to cook. I smiled. I may be compulsive, but in cases like this, it can be handy! That night, I also slept well.
When I chair a school fundraiser, it's organized within an inch of its life. The principal knows this. I will spend hours mulling over lists of volunteers, supplies, food, and tasks. Organization. It's just what I do. The term "co-dependent" also comes to mind. But either way, it's me. And it's undeniable. So, dear readers, take a moment and assess how well organized you are. Now, I'll admit that my house is not so organized. My closets need a major Oprah intervention! But when it comes to organizing events, calendars and communication, I'm your girl (OK, denial working there..,woman!). And that's a good thing to admit about oneself. See ya soon! Lauren