emotional manipulation revisited

This is a long post, but hopefully you will find a few gems in it that may help you.  I know it's helped me understand it more deeply as I've written it....... put it aside, and then returned to it again and again.  

 I've been plugging away at it one and off for a year!  Why?  Well, of all of the topics I've posted on this blog, the one piece that is "googled" the most  (at least 4-5 times daily!) was one I wrote about over two years ago.  I continue to receive emails and comments from people all over the world who are trying to find the answers to dealing with an Emotional Manipulator in their lives.......... whether its a friend, a lover, a partner, a family member...... they are seeking out answers, looking for some understanding as to what is happening in their lives.  It is a messy topic....... one that comes from the dark side of us.  We can all relate.

We can all manipulate.  We all have this skill in us.  However, there are human beings out there, who are masters of this way of being.  For whatever reason, their lives and their internal wiring lead them into interacting with others using games and mind benders.  To me, they are one of the most difficult individuals to help.  Their needs are bottomless.  Their tactics are so hurtful.  Their ability to take ownership of their behaviour is flawed because more times than not, they don't believe there is a darn thing wrong with them.  It's the rest of the world that is messed up..........

This post is written based on my own experiences, observations, and studies.  I believe self awareness as well as the awareness of the symptoms and sickness is our best attempt as looking after ourselves.  

My first experience happened with a first boyfriend....... age 16.  He had unrelenting anxiety issues and became so ill he couldn't attend school.  I juggled both his homework and my own, trying to be helpful.  He would respond by telling me that if I broke up with him, he would kill himself.  This is where my first learning took place.  I continued on in that toxic relationship for an extra year out of fear.   No one has the right to put their life in your lap!  Oh guess what?  He lived! And every now and then, I receive an email from him at 3 am.  Out of the blue.  My stomach does backflips all these years later when I see his name in my in-box!  Crazy!!

IF we can see it, feel it, hear it, we can make the decisions to get out of the way.  We have choices........ always.  No matter what the consequences are.

____________________________________________________________

bleeding heart........

Its amazing how quickly we are drawn to the drinking fountain that spills the nectar we crave and not even recognize its damaging consequences until the sweetness rots a hole into our hearts.  Its amazing how quickly we sidestep into the same dance moves despite the fact that the music beat seems completely different than the past.  You'd think we'd learn to stay clear of these trappings.  But cravings stilt our thinking while heightening our feelings to a point where they begin to control the choices we make.  We get drawn in as fast as flames up the chimney.

SWOOSH!  Off balance and confused by the swaying persuasion of a person who uses emotionally charged tactics to get what they want, we succumb to the hypnotic allure of their game. We become victimized and are held hostage by a professional victim who knows our weak points and knows how to use an arsenal of Emotion DARTS that target our weak points  Its like playing chess with a master.  The problem is..... in the rush to play the game, we don't recognize fast enough that we have become one of his Pawns. 

How does this happen so quickly?  How do we end up emotionally tied to another person who craves control because they don't feel like they have any in their life?  How do we recognize the manipulator who smoothly uses mind manoeuvering techniques like a tonic we choose to drink?  Why does this seem to happen more often to people who are kind and full of goodness?  How do we become enablers in a game you will never win?  

The way I see it AND believe it?  It comes down to the idea that we are getting some of our own personal needs met!  

Lots of questions!  Lots of ruminations!  LOTS of time spent trying to find your footing with professional victims who use the terror filling tactics of emotional game playing. 

Ask yourself.............. Is what I am doing to help one of these victims getting me what I want??  What do I want?   What are my needs?

Ask yourself......... Which of the most important relationships in my life are spiritually and emotionally healthy? What is is about them that make them feel healthy?  Why are they healthy?  Is there a respectful balance of give and take?

 

Ask youself.... Which ones are toxic?  IN what ways are they toxic?  Why?  What am I getting out of it?

Ask yourself......... What role do I play in the push and pull of a relationship that may not be a healthy one?  What am I sacrificing of myself and my life to try to maintain/fix/change the relationship? 

We all have the same needs.  According to William Glasser, Choice Theory guru guy, our needs fall into 5 categories.  Survival, Love and Belonging, Control/Empowerment, Freedom and Fun.  That's it.  5 needs.  5 goblets...... filled or not.  If one of our goblets is nearing empty, our actions, according to Dr. Glasser focus on re-filling the need goblet.   It affects how we think, feel emotionally, feel physically and act.  In other words, it tints the lens we use to look out at the world around us because we crave to fill the emptiness.

For example, if  Love and Belonging needs goblet is empty,  thoughts turn to conjuring up statements like....."I'm unlovable.  I'm ugly.  I'm alone.  No one loves me....Nobody cares that I'm even alive." This is the biggie!!!  Emotional feelings may sour into loneliness, shame, sadness, anxiety, rejection, anger.  Physical feelings turn to hunger, belly aches, headaches, energy heaviness.  Every ache and pain is felt, which in turn twists thinking into morbidity.  

Actions??  They can run the gamut.  You may slink away into my bed and succumb to depression, or you may become the busiest butterfly flitting out and about with a broken wing in search of love. OR, if you are aware of what's happening and what the need is, you may choose a much more balanced healthier approach.  You reach out to others.  You get into counselling. You start up a project or immerse yourself in a hobby.  You learn to be still and find happiness with your own company.  

Instant gratification through sex, food, alcohol, online sexual risk taking with others out in the mean world.  It comes down to looking for that elusive unconditional love but only ever finding love with conditions.  With rules.  With "do this" and I will love you conditions.  Its amazing how far we will go to seek out love...... to feel a sense of oneness and belonging ........... to rid ourselves of our misfit persona.  Values be damned when we are empty vessels in need of affirmation.

When my "love and belonging" needs have been depleted,  I am vulnerably open to tripping into the kind of relationship that will devour instead of soothe. I try to MAKE the relationship work even if it is toxic.  They will use their manipulative charm to get their own needs met.... empowerment, control and maybe even love and belonging too!  At first glance, it appears that this relationship is a healthy partnership..... I'll scratch my back, you scratch mine scenario.  But, when you are dealing with someone whose "need cups" can never be filled..... when they are a bottomless pit of need, there is no give and take balance.  The relationship runs amok..... as the game of give, give, give and take, take, take continues until the giver has nothing left and the taker remains hungry for more.  

give, give, give......

take, take, take.....

the giver pulls away, trying to look after themselves

the taker reacts by uttering demands, threats... even to a point where they say they will harm themselves.  Even to a point where they DO harm themselves......... all in a ploy to shake up the guilt and shame of the Giver. 

We are not dealing with a person who is healthy.  Chances are, there is serious mental health issues simmering under the surface.  But, they are smart.  The anger and aggression eventually rise up through their skin, but days and weeks can go by when all seems so serene!   They need professional intervention.  Sadly, Emotional Manipulators are the last ones who will ever admit there is something wrong with them. They are professional victims. The world is out to get THEM. 

So, we need to look after ourselves.  Like they say before the plane takes off, we need to put our oxygen masks on first before we can attempt to help someone.  We need to be aware of our own needs .... this is Emotional Awareness.  This is Emotional Literacy!  Read on!!!

If all of our behaviour is our best attempt at fulfilling our needs, how much control do we have over our actions?  A heck of a lot more than we do trying to control the actions of others or their needs. We may be the most "aware" person in the whole world, sometimes our needs drive us blindly down some thorny paths even if we think we are being careful.  And the worst thorny path to find yourself tumbling down is one that is owned by an emotional manipulator.  

More often than not, this is the foundation of domestic violence, which  INCLUDES more than a husband and wife scenario.   Domestic violence  includes elder abuse, child versus parent abuse, parent/child abuse, sibling violence, extended family abuse.  Emotional, physical, sexual or a combination of all.   More often than not, the manipulators who take advantage of our goodness are family.  I've experienced it first hand through marriage.  I've read about it, studied it, and have helped others in counselling sessions try to come to terms with it.  Emotional Literacy is lifelong learning.......  I am a student.  I hope you are too. 

Incredibly smart but sadly their self image is badly damaged, people who play with someone else's emotional stability are not only difficult to recognize right away, they will never admit the games they play.  In fact, they often feign victimhood.  This is their defence. This is their "comfort zone" they fall into when they feel any sense of wrongdoing.  They are bullies seething on the verge of some serious mental health issues.  Sadly, Sociopathic behaviour remains elusive in terms of change and treatment because an Emotional Manipulator is the last person to admit there is anything wrong with them.

No one is immune to the twisty turns of a person who has the smarts to turn a relationship into one of victim and aggressor.  All we can do is be aware of our boundaries as well as our own needs.  We have to learn to protect ourselves, learn how to walk away, let go and be firm about our own health and safety.  This is very difficult to do when one is the kind of person who is considered a helper.... a doer.......... a person who has a lot of love to share.  It is almost impossible to do when the person who has NEEDS that have no bottom pit is a family member or a lover.  But, it is doable.  Usually after many attempts and situations...... we do reach a place of readiness to put down the rules!  To learn to let go and let it be rather than losing your own freedom and empowerment in your own life.  

We do have the power to offer love and compassion while not getting entangled  in the web of psychological destruction.  We do not have the power to "save" another person from their own machinations, threats and self harm when they don't want to change.  Tragically...........

Love is out there.  Good love.  Healthy love.  Humans can provide this for other humans, though we are not perfect.  When two people meet, they bring along their "needs" goblets........... its a merging of the head and heart.  A blending of goodness and compasion as well as empathy for one another is reachable.   And our guide to showing us what unconditional love is and how it can be reciprocated?  God.

Look after yourself.  See the toxic relationships through the a clarification lens.  It may take a long time to let go of the threads that bind.  No doubt it may be one of the most painful decisions to make because it leads to actions that may even feel inhumane to you at first.  Get support around you, whether its through friends, family and/or professional help.  Lean on your faith. Know there will be grieving.  Sadness.  Guilt. Shame.  Be aware that it may even feel selfish to think of yourself first.  It's all there.  It goes against the grain of our compassionate hearts.  But, it comes down to the fulfilling the very basic need of all........... Survival.  Your own.  

gimme shelter....

How does someone living in the land of plenty end up living in squalor down by the river? How does a human being grow up only to be discarded, abandoned, invisible and forgotten? I took these photos of a small outdoor nesting place for a few homeless people in the city of Fredericton. Located down by the edge of the Saint John River, so close to the Delta Hotel that you could shoot your spit and it would most likely hit the bricks. Haves and Have Not's residing as neighbours. The Have Not's know it. The Haves are oblivious. The neighbour on the other side? The Lieutenant Governor's mansion. Nice......

The area is referred to by government and community organizations, and the media as "tent city." Its hardly a city when you compare it to the excessively enormous shanty towns and makeshift communities under overpasses in larger centres. But, it is what it is....a home for the homeless, the transients......the human beings who have either chosen to live outside rather than in, or who cannot and will not abide by the rules of the local Shelters.

If you were walking quickly, or biking leisurely along this portion of the Trans Canada trail, chances are you wouldn't notice the hidden pathways leading to small clearings where human beings have congregated. Summer fauna overlaps the entrances and keeps the secrets behind the leaves...... sort of. Attention has been given to the handful of homeless people by a locally formed committee that was set up to "deal" with the issue. Deemed as dangerous and unsafe due to mental illness, addictions, lawlessness, there is an urgency to rectify the "problem" by finding alternative living arrangements.

There are some who want to use strong tactics to get these "filthy dirty addicts..." out of the city altogether. Put them on a bus.... move them to another town. Get rid of the problem. Quick and clean...resolve the issue by pushing it on. This "approach" reeks of impatience and disregard. No time or interest in finding out why another human being has fallen so far down and away from "functioning in the community" or being "self-sufficiently independent," these strongarmed bureaucrats see them as an issue that needs to be managed. No time to be curious or to see how beneficial it would be to connect in some way with these Tent people in order to learn WHY and WHAT HAPPENED...... They probably spend more time discussing what colour their new office furniture is going to be than truly caring enough to take the time to understand the individual human beings who have fallen.

There are others who sit across from the strongarm types who are quick to say...... Give them housing. They bark out their politics to anyone who will listen .... the issue is not enough affordable housing. The government doesn't have enough affordable housing!! Oh yeah, if only we had a place to park them that would solve the problem, now wouldn't it? hmmmmm......... no. It's not that simple. It also isn't that simple just to pour money into a bottomless pit with no foundation either. Housing doesn't make a home.

If we had all the money in the world, would the issue of homelessness be solved?

Homelessness is a symptom of a much larger systemic problem where one social service department or agency works in a silo providing their goods, while another offers up another package of goods and no one communicates effectively. Communities don't get off scot free either. Its not just a "problem" for the public sector to manage! Everyone plays a role because it isn't an "issue" that has to be solved. It's not a "problem" that has an easy fix answer like some math equation.

A person living on the streets, or down by the river, or in a tent in the woods, on a park bench, in a car, under a bridge, may have a handful of people whom they receive some form of assistance from. Social assistance, food, methadone, addictions counselling, shelter options, medical assistance. Sadly, not one of those helping frontline people have the capacity within the confines of their job description to fully assist this human being. Why? Time. Work constraints. Designated roles and responsibilities don't allow for it. Lack of genuine political will. Lack of financial resources. Community fear. Bias.

So, the perpetual problem continues...... and every now and then when the neighbourhood raises their ire, or when the Queen comes to town the issue of homelessness hits the front page of the local newspaper. Then, it dies down.......... becomes invisible and the human being Have Not's are lost beyond the margins, away from any attention.

Autumn is now here...... and the nights are colder.

recovery

Recovery is a head and a heart thing. It begins when both open up and start working together. The struggle happens when there is too much of one and not enough of the other. It continues to remain stalled while the battle of the head and heart push and pull, twist and turn, open and close.... like the clash of the intellectual/emotional titans! Sometimes they gang up on behaviour, forcing it to act in ways it never expected to.

The head wakes up one day and says....."HOLY Shit! I'm a mess! I know what I'm doing is abusive to my body, to my self, to my soul....I've got to learn more about how to conquer the demons. Let me find a book ..... do some reading ..... find a guru ..... attend a lecture .... go to a workshop. I can do this on my OWN." And before you know it, the head begins to learn. It begins to sober up and it takes control of its own destiny. It thinks......and thinks and thinks...... until the thinking starts to stink!

All of a sudden the clouds roll in and the head begins to stumble. It starts doubting itself. It begins to gobble itself up with that human syndrome called "rumination." Somewhere along the line in a brief moment of "reality sobriety" the heart begins to stir sending lightening bolts of shame and guilt down in a thunderous roar of "Look what you've DONE! LOOK at all the people in your life you've hurt! Who do you think you ARE?? You are a rotten person! For shame!!"

The head retreats quickly, returning to the cave of indemnity to numb itself from anymore emotional wave damage. However, the cave isn't a safe secure place. Full of ruminative echos, the air hums constantly. Old memories reveal themselves like a grizzly's fangs dripping in saliva, like the shivering screeching bats whose wings shimmer when the light from the cracks hit them with instant awareness.

The heart is winning..... in some ways, its stronger than the head, so angry and hurt from life tumbling, stemming from the unhealthy addiction choices made in the heat of the moment, all brought on by the head's ability to rationalize through coping mechanisms designed to fool the human. For a long time, it allays the negative emotions of the heart by choosing quick hit relief tablets...... pills, booze, sex, gambling. When the heart realizes its been duped by false ecstasies, it turns the head on its side.

It throws all it has at the brain....wads of tissue soaked tears, angry accusations, manipulative pleas...... black guilty rain splashes down with unrelenting fury. The head cowers in a saturated mess sending pleas to stop the incessant emotional ammunition.

At a point of surrender, the head has a new thought. "Enough...I've had enough. I'm sick of this internal emotional manipulation. I'm sick of feeling this way! I can see it for what it is! This heart is a selfish crybaby who is just as wounded as I am. It just knows how to push my triggers....how to make me second guess my actions and needs. But there has to be a common ground. There has to be a place where we can begin to work together rather than this unrelenting barb throwing. hmmmmm...... how can I learn to cope better?"

From somewhere outside of the battered body is a voice....a message.... "Listen differently," it says. "The words that accuse are the same words that express worry and support. They are just wounded and don't know how to reach out. You know how to do that. You know how to reach out."

So many stops and starts ensue. Recovery is never an overnight process. It took years of accumulative actions, of using damaging coping skills, or listening to false self talk until one day, when all seems the most hopeless.....when misery reeks in fermenting mildew..... there is no place to hide except within the weeping bubble of a whispered "help me..."

"help me..." says the head to the heart.

"help me...." replies the heart to the head.

Those are the first two words which have the capacity to open up that road to recovery. Sometimes we have to hit the pavement hard with our whole selves........ a faceplant of the soul .... before we can croak it out. Then we hope and pray that we have the stamina to retrain our thinking and feelings so that one day they work together directing the behavioural choices so darn dependent on them.

No one outside of ourselves can truly heal us of an addiction. They can listen, support, guide, and do all those things that caring people do. But when the rubber meets the road, it's up to us to pull together the internal tools we were born with to come to our aid.

through the eyes of a new fan.....

Let me fill your heart with joy and laughter
Togetherness, well that's all I'm after
Whenever you need me, I'll be there
I'll be there to protect you,
with an unselfish love that respects you
Just call my name and I'll be there
The Jackson 5

Sometime during the winter, my 11 year old son began to discover the music of Michael Jackson. This is the same age I discovered him. Max was mesmerized by the dance moves and the music from the Thriller and Off the Wall albums, intrigued by the enormity of Jackson's success and full of questions about the weirdness of the man's lifestyle. He was in awe of Jackson's voice and his ability to move like he had the power to defy gravity. The style and swagger.....the energy and magic of the music which washed over this globe, created by a brilliantly talented human being was alive and well, captured for a new generation to discover. His music was uploaded onto an 11 year old's I-pod to savour.

Personally, I had stopped listening to the stories and bizarre activities surrounding Michael Jackson, had completely stepped away from even paying attention to him because of his behaviour and over the top weirdness. To me, it felt like a carnival freak show, created for the most part by an unrelenting fan base and a media which would never let go. The man/boy in the bubble choked on his extravagant success, turning himself into a distant recluse locked away from reality, surrounded by a hoard of handlers who treated him like an alien. It was like watching a slow motion train wreck that took 35 years to reach the point when we all watched him shuffle into a courtroom in his pyjama pants. Are there words to capture his demise? Sad? Pathetic? No, it was more mind boggling than words could convey.

My son hadn't heard all of the stories yet.......the ongoing accusations and acquittals the millions of dollars spent in "settlements," the flamboyant spending on everything from Elephant Man remains to renting the top floor of luxury hotels in Vegas, and the strange reclusive behaviour. Photos and videos however, revealed Jackson's transformation from a handsome young man with a gleam in his eye and a talent that knew no boundaries to a hideous looking shell of a human being whose hair draped a face that was otherwordly....whose sunglasses and veils hid him from light.

Like every single one of us, Max had many questions, most of which remain unanswered. What happened? Why did it happen? Who in their right mind would perform over 50 plastic surgeries on another human being who obviously was mentally ill and live with themself ? Who are these doctors who wrote numerous prescriptions for pain killers turning Jackson into a zombie like addict? Where the hell were his friends? Were they all living in their own pathetic fame filled bubbles that they didn't feel they could approach him, arrange for help.....?

My son and I talked occasionally about Michael Jackson.....I told him stories of how amazing the Jackson 5 were, how huge Jackson's albums were when they were first released....how at age 11 I was a huge fan! I tried to explain what I thought had happened to him in the ensuing years, but how do you explain to someone such mystery? Still, the music prevailed, and overshadowed the wacko jacko-ness of one very disturbed sick man. My son became a fan.

Last evening, Max came rushing upstairs.......his eyes popping out of his head and a look of shock on his face to inform me that the King of Pop had been rushed to the hospital and was in a coma. At first I didn't think it was serious. I figured maybe Jackson fainted or something from exhaustion prepping for his London concerts. It didn't surprise me....the most recent photos revealed a man who seemed to be a walking thin shell of himself, not the high energy consummate performer who always looked completely "in the zone" happy on stage. But, within minutes, the same media who helped turn Jackson into an untouchable were announcing his death. In the middle of what we all know will be an unstoppable barrage of stories, accolades, interpretations all stemming from the phoniness of Hollywood...... I heard a new 11 year old fan say....

"I think I will remember this day for the rest of my life." I believe he will. It is one of those moments when an event outside of your own realm interupts and leaves something indelible in one's memory. Like Elvis. Like Diana. Like RFK. Like JFK. Like Martin Luther King. All for different reasons.... but a stopping before and after recognition that you will remember where you were when you heard the news. For my son. For many I imagine.

Michael Jackson, the most famous entertainer in the world whose behaviour and secret life far outshines any head shaving meltdown Britney could throw into the tabloids..... the man whose arrested development shackled him to Neverland and a life of relating to Lost Boys.... was a true genius. Painfully, his orbiting success and his deep wounds left from abuse and never being able to know what normal is, ate at his soul and left him behind a veil. No doubt we will be living it and reading about it all.... hearing it dredged up on talk shows and news shows until we want to vomit.

Looking out across the morning
The city�'s heart begins to beat
Reaching out, I touch her shoulder
I'�m dreaming of the street .......

Can you imagine never having a chance to walk down a street all by yourself with a sense of smiling anonymity? Jackson's song Human Nature captures his desire to just be normal..... to walk on the street, to "take a bite of an apple....." So , so sad. For all of his success, Michael Jackson was the loneliest human being on the planet.

The eternal Lost Boy? May he rest in peace. May he find the freedom his life never offered him. Let his music transcend this craziness and sadness of his life and the predictable dissection of it after his death. Let his music be discovered through the eyes, ears and heart of a new fan for years to come.

alignment....

Recovery is an alignment of the head and the heart. Too much of one knocks you off balance. The key to finding alignment? Accepting love and forgiveness of one's spirit. And a good long walk in the rain.

deception....

Who lives on the island called Fool's Paradise surrounded by a mirage of delusionary hope? YOU DO! I know, I know ... you deny this vehemently ....

Who cries out with incessant histrionics too painfully misguided to be believable except to the one who cries the purple tears? YOU DO! Yeah...sure ... I hear your whacky explanation. I don't believe it.

How does someone function under such fantasies instead of the truth? And why? Why does someone work so damn hard not to be honest about their behaviour, both past and present? Is it because they spend all of their energy living a lie, creating many facades that NEVER interact with one another that somewhere along the line the truth has become so diluted by crocodile tears? Have they been so wounded and abused in the past that they don't have the capacity to act any differently because they really don't trust anyone? Wow, what a lot of work!

For a long time, you tried to keep me close as you manipulated your way through the maze of deception. I saw through your act ages ago. You know this.....and it terrifies you. I have become part of your deepening haunting shadow and you hate me for it. I have joined the previous folks who saw through your convoluted web and into your obsessive need to play a role, to wear a mask, to don a people pleasing persona even though deep down... the folks who clearly see that you think you're better than everyone else on this planet and this scares you to a point where you're determined to try to keep me close. Sad, pathetic, so alone YOU. Yes, entitlement is your achilles heel, as is your unrelenting belief that you are pure and unblemished.....that YOU do nothing wrong. You give, and give and give.....and why does the rest of the world not understand all that you have forfeited?

You trust no one.....NO ONE..... but like a hungry black widow, you keep this secret under wraps. Too bad your hunger is too ravenous, which at times makes you let that false skin down only to reveal your vulnerabilities.

What is interesting is that when you write.....you attempt to describe your vulnerabilities. You choose words carefully..........NOTHING comes out of you that you havent poured your energy assessing, contemplating, regurgitating. But, once someone realizes how wounded you really are, your vulnerabilities, used as weapons to trigger others seem juvenile.... pendantic.... pathetic.

What you hide, you hide from yourself. What you reveal? Here's the secret..... you reveal your sorrowful soul.... exactly what you are trying your hardest to keep under wraps. Why can't you just be honest about how you really feel, what you really think instead of trying to hammer a wedge between others? Why can't you just admit you're threatened and you need help? Why can't you come forward and admit your wrongdoings?

Why? Because the feelings you so aptly write about are feelings you never dare to embrace fully. Or maybe you do, but you can't imagine anyone else feeling the same way. It's like the intensity of how YOU feel outweighs anyone's elses. It's all very strange. I call it passive aggressive foreplay. Play on... by yourself.

What would happen if you did decide to leave the island of Fool's Paradise? Gee, maybe you'd find your soul.......and leave behind the "poor me" fashion and the "Nobody understands me" bullshit. Maybe you'd get real....to admit who you really are and learn to love yourself.

Deception....you intrigue me with your mind twisting confusion because I want to know the reason behind your need to control the relationships you eventually mess up. I wonder how you can keep things straight.... how you keep the revolving door of people in your life straight. Who have you told what whipped up story to????

I guess it comes down to the fact that you don't trust a soul. Always on the tipping point of being revealed as the con artist human you are, you never relax except when you drown yourself in the addiction of choice.....food, booze, drugs.....sex. When does it stop? Can you stop or are you suffering something greater than a good look in the mirror would help.

Can I suggest something? Can I suggest that it's time to seek help.....professional help and begin to admit the reason behind your incessant lies, rouge cheeked faces, your phoney posturing? Its time to stop the emotional manipulation. It's time to lift your veil to reveal you own brokenness. It's time to fess up, deal with whatever demons you harbour and heal.

And please stay clear of my life.... I'm sick of your head games, your lacey cheap perfumed attempts at empathy, and I won't let them or YOU interfere with my life anymore. Your mind games have become boring. The time I have spent trying to help and to figure you out has dried up.

ps....HEY! Anyone out there who has felt the whoring of deception in their lives before?? It's a mindtrip, thats for sure.

Why do the things that connect us slowly pull us apart?

Old Man Willow lives in the concrete part of town, his roots upturned and tucked in the scuffed shuffle of exhaustion. Living on the streets, his shadowy presence looms large. His broad shouldered bearing tackles the comfort of passersby who are afraid of this man with the flowing treebeard and weathered eyes. He rules the streets and in the middle of the night, Old Man Willow owns them outrightly.

"When everyone in this city is safe and warm in the comfort of their homes, when everyone in this city has gone somewhere where there is a roof and a bed, I sit in a hallway at 4 am and wonder if I'm going to make it through another night. Even in the middle of winter, I'm out there and I know I'm the only one. I'm the only one," he says with burdened vulnerability I didn't expect to hear.

Demons and drugs have pulled Old Man Willow into a life of distrusting isolation. His road of darkness has dragged him into the soul of sorrow where defeat eats flesh and leaves weeping wounds. The storms he has endured forced him to bend and twist over and over again and it shows. Life's hurricanes have taken their toll on this human being and have left him with deep in the bone marrow aches and abandoned youthful dreams in tatters.

His dream was to make it to the "show..." He had the natural ability, the athleticism to rise above the ranks of amateurs....to breathe in the glory of the migthy crack of the bat. He was born to play ball in a place where it is a religion. It was in his blood. The ball field was where he belonged. It was what he connected to. It was his love. His love...... but not his fate. His fate was stamped by the choices he made. It pulled him apart like the seams of a worn baseball and left him facing the reflections of acquainted glory in the hallways and on the streets alone, panhandling for a hot cup of coffee.

Beyond the raging anger which sealed his fall from the gracefulness of a limbered soul, Old Man Willow shares his insight with anyone who will ask. Few have asked. He knows it was his own fault, but he also knows he was a victim of the dysfunction he grew up in. Always tough, always on the defence, always fighting to scrape by when others had an abundance of support soared around him, he developed a crusty outer shell. Authority didn't exist in his mind. They were the enemy. They were all stupid. He knew how to throw heat on the mound, but he didn't know how to be coached. He failed at this part of the game.

"I had too much attitude. I didn't listen. I loved to play ball," he says with a life affirming gleam in his eyes, "but I had no discipline. They wouldn't take a chance on me and I don't blame them."

"What happened then?" I asked....

"I partied too much. I fell in love. I figured I had it in the bag then.....that my talent was good enough to make it even though I didn't listen to them......I kept partying and married my childhood sweatheart. We were too young though when I took her away from her family. It only lasted a year and I took her back home and moved on.....I had a few tryouts but I had this big chip on my shoulder. I see it now. I didn't then. I just didn't know how to play THAT game. I thought I was better than everyone else. It was just anger talking. It was just my anger. Nothing's ever come easy."

He sat back lost in the song of his undoing in a place of long ago.

"I could've made it....I was that good. I threw it away.....I threw it away."

The cold years have aged Old Man Willow. His treebeard is predominantly and prematurely grey. His blue eyes have faded. His thick outer shell is calloused with weathered beatings from drugged numbness and broken relationships. Still, when you look beyond his scuffed remnants of this broken man, you see the strength he used not on the ball field, but on the mean streets in order to survive. He used his strength to survive and it has slowly pulled him apart from what he loved the most. It happens to the best of us.

What was glowingly apparent to me as I sat with him in the comfort of a warm office and listened with a combined sense of awe and pity, was an awareness that this man felt emotion far deeper than you or I. He may have had the physical prowess to dominate in a game we shared a love for, but he didn't have the filtering capacity to protect himself from the onslaught of life's feelings thrown with heat. Old Man Willow may scare down the passersby. He may have a shadowy presence which looms large over the concrete part of town. He may even throw a few swings at the demons and not have the self discipline to walk away from a fight. But his true persona is of a sensitive frightened human being who couldn't guard himself from hurt. This is what slowly pulled him apart from the rest. This is what finally took him to a place in his hurt where he finally asked for help.

His help was heard.....by his doctor who has grown to admire his unique patient.....by a doctor who took it upon himself to "go to bat" for a man who has burned many bridges in life. And because of this respect he has for a broken human being, Old Man Willow is going to receive some help. Tomorrow, he moves into his own place. Tomorrow night, his hallway will lead to a bedroom where his own bed awaits made with crisp and fresh sheets. His head will have a pillow. The community, many of whom have wanted to help Old Man Willow, has pulled together to help him. Hopefully he can make the transition from the mean cold streets to a place called home. It won't be easy to break lifelong habits. But, we're all willing to give it a try.....again and again...

and again.......this is life itself.

the 12 most difficult steps

Lily, our canine matriarch.

Photo by Martha.

1. We admitted we were powerless over alcohol - that our lives had become unmanageable.

2. Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.

3. Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.

4. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.

5. Admitted to God, to ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.

6. Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.

7. Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.

8. Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.

9. Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.

10. Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it.

11. Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.

12. Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics and to practice these principles in all our affairs.

Heartwrenching brokenness

The series of falls are painful, bruising, hard and deep before one can reach out for the first rung with the understanding and the surrendering needed for the journey up the 12 steps.

Physically, emotionally, spiritually, holistically.

Humbly.

Honestly

Reflectively

Purposefully

I have had the privilege of learning from the experts. Their raw feelings seep out of their skin electrifying the air when they share a slice of reflections. Broken admissions blend with a hopeful heart scarred by scraping knuckles and knees in search of serenity.

Stories spill.

Wishes spill.

Tears come easily because they live just under the sensitive surface.

Prayers repeated until they are at last heard.....until they finally come from a deep holiness which sits in the pit of blackhole transformation. Prayers spoken until they are birthed into a home where loving guiding hands await the surrendering.

Palms upward and open....friends, family, strangers, God.

I have learned from the experts. Beautiful and broken..... they know the story. They know it can't be done alone. They know it needs love and unconditional acceptance. God has that in abundance. So do we.

You know, i'm left this morning wondering if these are truly the steps we all need to consider attempting. They are the learning steps towards living a life with humbling grace and forgiveness of ourselves and others.