Monday, October 19, 2015

Pleasure Seeking

Pleasure you delude me
As I search high and low
Never drawing near you
Watching as you go

Why do you so despise me
Leaving me alone
Laughing when I reach for you
Cold like sharp grey stone

Forever I grasp and fight with thee
While pleasure you take flight from me...

Thursday, October 15, 2015

pain

We must experience pain: otherwise delight will never have its proper savor, nor pleasure its sweetness, nor love its bittersweet ache... 
~Elizabeth Buchan from "Revenge of the Middle-aged Woman"

Caretaking and Detachment - from book Courage to Change

CARETAKING AND DETACHMENT

Even as a child I had grown-up responsibilities, so it is no wonder that I grew up being a care-taker.  It seemed so comfortable, so automatic to think of others first, and to give myself completely to whatever crisis was at hand without a thought for myself.  When I became aware that this was not one of my most admirable traits but was instead a form of self destructiveness, I was horrified.  I set out to wipe out all such behavior and attitudes.  I was determined to become as self-involved and uncaring as possible.

Fortunately, I failed to make such a radical change.  Today, years later, I'm still a caretaker, and I probably always will be.  But now I consider it a valued characteristic, a gift of my upbringing that can greatly enhance my life if I don't carry it to the extreme.  Although I no longer do things for others that they could do for themselves, I still try to be nurturing to them as well as myself.  Al-Anon helps me to find some balance.

Today I will try not to condemn parts of myself while accepting other parts.  I am a composite, and I love myself best when I embrace all that I am.  “My imperfections and failures are as much a blessing from God as my successes and my talents, and I lay them both at His feet.”  54

-----
Early one morning I stopped to watch a colony of bees.  A little intimidated by the frenzied motion and intense buzzing, I reminded myself that if I didn't poke my nose into their hive, I wouldn't get stung.  If I chose to maintain a safe distance from a dangerous situation, I would be fine.

To me, that is exactly the lesson that detachment teaches.  The choice is mine.  When I sense that a situation is dangerous to my physical, mental, or spiritual well-being, I can put extra distance between myself and the situation.  Sometimes this means that I don't get too emotionally involved in a problem; sometimes I may physically leave the room or end the conversation; and sometimes I try to put spiritual space between myself and another person's addiction or behavior.  This doesn't mean I stop loving the person, only that I acknowledge the risks to my own well-being and make choices to take care of myself.

Now I know how to end an argument by simply refusing to participate, to turn to my Higher Power for help with whatever I am powerless to change, to say, “No,” when I mean no, and to step back from insanity rather than diving into it.  Detachment is a loving gift I continue to give to myself and to others.  “If a man carries his own lantern he need not fear darkness.”  12

-----
Detachment.  At first it may sound cold and rejecting, not loving at all.  But I have come to believe that detachment is actually a wonderful gift: I am allowing my loved ones the privilege and opportunity of being themselves.

I do not wish to interfere with anyone's opportunities to discover the joy and self-confidence that can accompany personal achievements.  If I'm constantly intervening to protect them from painful experiences, I also do them a great disservice.  As Mark Twain said, "A man who carries a by the tail learns something he can learn in no other way."

I find it painful to watch another person suffer or head down a road which I believe leads to pain.  Many of my attempts to rescue others have been prompted by my own desire to avoid this pain.  Today I'm learning to experience my own fear, grief, and anguish.  This helps me to be willing to trust the same growth process in others, because I know firsthand about the gifts it can bring.

Sometimes it is more loving to allow someone else to experience the natural consequences of their actions, even when it is painful for us both.  In the long run, both of us will benefit.  Today I will put love first in my life.  All I have to do is keep my hands off and turn my heart on.124

-----

At Al-Anon we talk a lot about the need to let others experience the consequences of their actions.  We know that most addicts have to hit a  "bottom" and become uncomfortable with their own behavior before they can effectively do something about it.

Those of us who love addicts often have to learn to get out of the way of this bottom.  We must learn to detach with love.

Another reason for detachment with love may be equally important in building healthy, loving, respectful relationships.  Many of us have interfered not only with the loved ones problems but also with their achievements.  I may have the best of intentions, but if I take over other people's responsibilities, I may rob them of the chance to accomplish something and to feel good about what they've done.  Although I am trying to help, my actions may be communicating a lack of respect for my loved one’s abilities.  When I detach with love, I offer support by freeing those I care about to experience both their own satisfactions and disappointments.

I am learning the difference between help and interference.  Today I will examine the way I offer support.  Detachment does not mean disinterest; I consider detachment respect for another's personhood.168
-----
I have always felt that my loved one's addiction was a terrible reflection on me, and I worried about what people thought.  One day, he told me he wanted to get clean.  I was elated for a day, until his next binge.  Then I was devastated.

Some months later, my loved one finally did go for help.  Two days later, the addiction began again.

The most important thing I've learned in Al-Anon, since then, is that my well-being cannot depend upon whether or not the addict indulges in his addiction.  His behavior is not a reflection of me; it's a reflection of his disease.  However, my behavior is reflection of me, and I owe it to myself to pay attention to what it has to tell me.  I have to take care of myself.  I have to accept that addiction is a disease which can be arrested but not cured.  Many addicts make a number of attempts at sobriety before actually getting sober; others never do.  My life is too important to waste waiting for someone else's choices, even when it's someone I dearly love.

No matter whether the addict in my life is clean or not, the time to put energy into my own recovery is right now.  Al-Anon helped me to focus my attention on what I could do about my situation, instead of concentrating all my attention on what I thought the addict should do.  I was the one who had to take a stand.180.

-----

I think the word "detachment" is often misunderstood.  For me, detachment is the freedom to own what is mine and to allow others to own what is theirs.

This freedom allows me to keep my own identity and still love, care about, and identify with the feelings of others.  In fact, I believe that the degree of our humanity can be measured by our ability to know another person's pain and joy.  I have been practicing the principles of Al-Anon to the best of my abilities for a long time.  But when someone in the Fellowship shares about having a difficult time, I can go right back to day one.  I no longer live with that type of emotional pain, but I can feel the tears.  I can identify without needing to remove their pain.  To me, that is in Al-Anon success story.

Today, I don't have to like everything my addicted loved one says or does, and I don't have to change her, even when I think she's wrong.  I continue to learn how to care without taking everything personally.

I can detach and still feel love, still feel.  I can learn to take care of my own business while allowing others to tend to the theirs.  Today, I can detach without losing compassion.  "Love your neighbor, yet pull not down your hedge.”  187.

-----

Two of those closest to me were newly recovering addicts.  During the active years, I had become so enmeshed with them and their self destructive behaviors that I lost sight of the idea that I could be happy even if they were depressed; that I could live a serene life even if they went back to their addiction.  The turning point in my Al-Anon recovery came when someone said to me, "You'll have to learn to make it whether the addicts do or not."

From that day on I tried to keep in mind that I had my own life and my own destiny.  Once I began to separate my welfare from that of the addict's, I found it easier to detach from the decisions they made about how and where, and when and with whom to conduct their lives.  Because my fate, my very life, was no longer tied directly to theirs, I was able to accept them for who they were and to listen to their ideas and concerns without trying to exercise control.  Thanks to Al-Anon, I can concentrate my energy where I do have some control-over: my own life.

My time is too precious to waste living in the future or worrying about something over which I have no power.  I am building a wonderful life for myself today.  As I continued to practice putting the focus on myself, it is a relief to see I can let go of others’ problems instead of trying to solve them.199.

-----
The image of an avalanche hopes me to give the addict in my life the dignity to make her own decisions.  It is as though her actions are forming a mountain of addiction-related troubles.  A mound of snow cannot indefinitely grow taller without tumbling down; neither can the addict's mountain of problems.

Al-Anon has helped me to refrain from throwing myself in front of the addict to protect her, or from working feverishly to add to the mountain in order to speed its downward slide.  I am powerless over her addiction and her pain.  The most helpful course of action is for me to stay out of the way!

If the avalanche hits the addict, it must be the result of her own actions.  I'll do my best to allow God to care for her, even when painful consequences of her choices hit full force.  That way I won't get in the way of her chance to want a better life.

I will take care to avoid building an avalanche of my own.  Am I heaping up resentments, excuses, and regrets that have the potential to destroy me?  I don't have to be buried under them, before I address my own problems.  I can begin today.  The suffering you are trying to ease, may be the very thing needed to bring the addict to a realization of the seriousness of the situation. 343

Quote - Impossible

Impossible...


"Impossible is just a big word thrown around by small men who find it easier to live in the world they’ve been given than to explore the power they have to change it. Impossible is not a fact. It’s an opinion. Impossible is not a declaration. It’s a dare. Impossible is potential. Impossible is temporary.

Impossible is nothing." - Unknown

Why I Write

WHY I WRITE
by Stacey Baty Patterson
10-23-12

Why do I write?  Why does anyone write? What need are we fulfilling when we write?

I can only convey my personal experience. I write because I love to read other people's writings. When I was a child my favorite place to visit was the library. My mom and I would go to the library after she picked me up from school. I felt so grown-up having my own library card! There was a power in that library card. That library card had the power to open up worlds that I had only dreamed of. When I stood in front of the library and looked at the old building, I imagined there was a giant cocktail party of ancient sages, sharing their wisdom of the ages. They had all come from different paths and lived different lives, and had finally met in the old building to share their amazing journeys with one another and the rest of the world. It was as if these sages were holding a party just for me as I walked in the doors and marveled at the incredible amount of information standing before me, on shelf after shelf. It was magic to me. I felt that someone had gathered up all the riches in the world and placed them here for me, for my continual and lifelong enjoyment. That's what the library meant to me as a child. All of their writing made me respect their journeys as well as realize that I have my own journey to share with the rest of the world. That's why I write.

I have an amazing inner critic that blocks me with fear as I begin each writing piece. Every time I encountered that critic I'm astounded by the power that critic has over me. I need people who have written and overcome their inner critic, to encourage me to ignore the rantings and ravings of that crazy inner gatekeeper that tries to block my ideas from being shared. Writing is a scary and wonderful process which is cathartic and engaging, when I can focus my attention on my journey and not my shortcomings. I get great peace from writing. There's nothing like finishing a paper and knowing it was a job well done. I love that feeling.

I still love the library. It’s still my favorite place to go. I can spend hours and hours cruising and perusing at the library, to the point that I may lose track of all space and time during my adventures there. But what a way to go! All the sages of my childhood remain at the library waiting for me to sit at their feet and listen and learn from their amazing journeys. I get joy from the library. What I hope is that I can begin to get the same joy from my writing as I do from others writing. That is my goal. That's why I write.

My disability and Character Development

My Disability and Character Development (from a former achievement junkie)

<p>Becoming disabled is the experience that has probably contributed the most to my character today.  Before my disability, I was always on the move.  One goal and its accomplishment led straight into the next goal and its accomplishment, until I became a goal seeking "bundle of nerves."  My goal seeking was so intense that I am not sure whether I was able to enjoy the moment each day.  Also, before my disability, I had a less than positive attitude about myself.  I was rarely enough, unless my accomplishments were ongoing and current.  I enjoyed accolades from others for all the things I got done that I said I would do.  However, it was never over.  The striving never ended.  It was if I had to continue each accomplishment to stay above water, in the cesspool of my low self-esteem.</p><p> </p><p>Now that I have become disabled, although I still have that draining drive for perfection, the pain in my body will not allow me those accomplishments anymore.  I have been forced to greatly reduce the size and the time limits of my goals.  Sometimes my goal for the day is just to get up, take a shower and get fully dressed.  I do not always accomplish that goal.  I beat myself up for about five years, relentlessly judging myself based on the goals that I had set but had not reached.  I saw my disability as a punishment from God or either a punishment from myself for running so hard and so fast for the first forty years of my life.  It was only through psychotherapy, the encouragement of friends and family, a twelve-step program, and the goodwill of others that I am coming to believe that my disability is not a punishment.  Coming to this belief is a work in progress.  It does not happen overnight.  Sometimes I get frustrated with the slow process.  But practicing the 12 steps on a daily basis helps keep my ego in check and keep me right-sized, reducing the need to berate myself when I cannot do the things that I see others doing in their lives.</p><p> </p><p>Receiving county services such as light housekeeping and Meals on Wheels has been a very humbling experience, and has contributed greatly to my character development.  Prior to my disability and several years into my disability, I would not accept help from other people.  I would figure out a way to do it myself.  Sometimes I see my disability as a blessing!  Although I am not good at it, I may become a good role model for my children regarding humility, now that I am accepting help.  I have even learned to ask them for help.  Before, they would offer and I would refuse.  This was very frustrating for them.  I will continue to work on my humility, and the leveling of my pride in order to help others and to do the best to help myself.  I want to remain teachable.

Codependency gems

Why we must stop trying to change other people...An Alanon Gem

Willpower is not the key to the way of life we are seeking. Surrender is.

"I have spent much of my life trying to make people be, do, or feel something they aren't, don't want to do, and choose not to feel. I have made them, and myself, crazy in that process," said one recovering woman.

I spent my childhood trying to make an alcoholic father who didn't love himself be a normal person who loved me. I then married an alcoholic and spent a decade trying to make him stop drinking.

I have spent years trying to make emotionally unavailable people be emotionally present for me. I have spent even more years trying to make family members, who are content feeling miserable, happy.

What I'm saying is this: I've spent much of my life desperately and vainly trying to do the impossible and feeling like a failure when I couldn't. It's been like planting corn and trying to make the seeds grow peas. Won't work!

By surrendering to powerlessness, I gain the presence of mind to stop wasting my time and energy trying to change and control that which I cannot change and control. It gives me permission to stop trying to do the impossible and focus on what is possible: being who I am, loving myself, feeling what I feel, and doing what I want to do with my life.

In recovery, we learn to stop fighting lions, simply because we cannot win. We also learn that the more we are focused on controlling and changing others, the more unmanageable our life becomes. The more we focus on living our own life, the more we have a life to live, and the more manageable our life will become.

Today, I will accept powerlessness where I have no power to change things, and I'll allow my life to become manageable

Christmas for friends of Bill W.

Christmas for Bill's Friends!

'Twas the night before Christmas, we were all in the club,
Enjoying a meeting, instead of a pub,...
The ashtrays were clean, and the coffee was made,
The Big Books were out and we all had prayed.
When out in the lot, there arose such a clatter,
We all jumped up to see what was the matter.
The Chair with his Big Book, and I with my smokes,
Headed outside to find these two blokes.
They came inside and sat at a table;
And said that they'd chair, as soon as they're able.
To start with, they said, "It's more than not drinking;
It's doing your best to fix your sick thinking."
"Think, Think, Think!" and the slogans we used,
Help keep the newcomer from getting confused.
Step 1 is a start, they said we should know,
But after Step 2, we'll be all aglow.
We make a decision when we got to Step 3;
Step 4 was real tough, we all could agree,
Step 5 is the one where we let it all out,
And after Step 6 and 7, we are left with no doubt.
When we got to Step 8, we made our list;
And then with Step 9, we have to persist.
After Step 9, the promises ring true;
We didn't just make that up, right out of the blue.
After that, it's on with the rest;
The things we must do, to be our best.
They put on their coats and got ready to leave;
A pretty good end, for this Christmas Eve.
As to their names, we only could guess;
Must have been Bill W. and Dr. Bob S.
The two men hopped into a '35 Ford,
And as they pulled out, one of them roared:
"We leave this message, for our sisters & brothers:
trust God, clean house, and be of service to others.
And for all of you people, I just want to say:
have a nice holiday, but don't drink today

great quote on writing

Great quote on WRITING!


"Advice? I don’t have advice. Stop aspiring and start writing. If you’re writing, you’re a writer. Write like you’re a goddamn death row inmate and the governor is out of the country and there’s no chance for a pardon. Write like you’re clinging to the edge of a cliff, white knuckles, on your last breath, and you’ve got just one last thing to say, like you’re a bird flying over us and you can see everything, and please, for God’s sake, tell us something that will save us from ourselves. Take a deep breath and tell us your deepest, darkest secret, so we can wipe our brow and know that we’re not alone. Write like you have a message from the king.”
― Alan W. Watts

Flakes.

         Snow.     Flakes.    Falling.   In.     My.    Eyes.

Snow.      Flakes.      Falling.           No.          Surprise.

      Snow.      Flakes.      Falling.      At.     The.        Dawn.

Rush.     Hour’s.      Going.      To.         Suck.

Fond Food

Stout liver and onions frying
In a skillet
Sweet broccoli and carrots steaming
In a basket
Orange tea steeping
In my cup
Nanny prepared  these dishes
Long ago
Yet fond memories remain today

Again

All out everywhere, streets and alleys alike
Children roll and bounce on bikes and scooters and on trikes
They run and leap with such delight
The Sun is up so warm so bright

It's Summertime again
It's Summertime again

Together

One and two
Bodies intertwined
Intertwined  bodies
Two become one

Saturday, October 10, 2015

Ode to Recovery

A long, foggy, winding path
Littered with reptilian fears and chaotic isolation

Turns

To serene belonging
As debris is cleared and fog burns away

Revealing

A clear, broad and sunny horizon

Thursday, October 8, 2015

Imperfection

(tools: imperfect, Limerick, enjambment)


Why aren't they 
smooth, shiny and bright

The texture so
coarse and so tight

As I tie back my
dreads and
I lie down in bed

I thank God for
uniqueness tonight

Color

This smooth brown texture, soft to the touch,
This deep defiant hue, hated so,
This darkness so questioned, so often feared,
This beauty, my dear, is my skin.

The Gift

DENEX (tools: gift, acrostic, simile)

Dare I venture past this door?

Eaves above me beckoning more.

New relationship like an unwrapped gift,

Expectations fears galore.

X plus Y, he and I, dancing clumsily... together.

Monday, October 5, 2015

The Cleaning Lady

(Tools: Haiku & Alliteration)

Always in action
Inhaling Ammonia air
As I arch and ache

Screens

(Tools: Haiku)

Screen so blue so white
Grant me inspiration now
Or I may perish

http://staceys-musings.blogspot.com

Sunday, April 19, 2015

It Really WAS Good!


So, when I was a kid I had this love for certain sandwiches. I ate one almost every day, when I got home from school. It was not your typical sandwich, mind you, but I looked forward to it!

Here’s the recipe: I got two pieces of Wonder Bread (white bread wasn’t vilified back in those days). I placed them side by side on a plate. My mouth was watering by this time! Then I would add the magic ingredients: four Oreo cookies, arranged just so! Placing one piece of bread on top, I had myself a meal, baby! That first bite was always so amazing! No need for condiments. The icing mixed perfectly with the lovely taste of chocolate cookie wafers and Wonder Bread. Doesn’t it just make your mouth giddy with anticipation?

Okay, okay…so in college, long after the days of my after-school treats, a thought occurred to me. "I do not have much money. Would an Oreo Cookie Sandwich would still be tasty? It certainly would be cheap and would last a long time…”

All I'd have to buy is one loaf of bread and a package of Oreos, so I tried it. By this time, health conscious people were at least trying to eat wheat bread. So I drove to the grocery store, reluctantly grabbed a loaf of wheat bread, hoping for the best. I snatched up a package of Oreo cookies and headed home for my experiment. On the drive home, I was already pretty hungry. I could not wait to taste my old friend, the Oreo Cookie Sandwich. “This is going to be awesome!” I thought expectantly.

I arrived home. I got out a plate. I placed two pieces of wheat bread on the plate. I then carefully placed the Oreo cookies. Placing the second piece of bread on top, I prepared for the first delectable bite. Oh my goodness! I was shocked! I cannot believe how utterly disgusting it tasted! I stopped myself from spitting it in the trash can, trying to give it some time to grow on me. After I swallowed it (gagging a bit), I looked at the sandwich and wondered, “What in the he** was I thinking?” Into the trash it flew! Ewww…never trust those childhood memories!

Saturday, April 18, 2015

Why Now?

"We couldn’t ask for more beautiful day!" said the man to his wife, as they sauntered through the park together, hand-in-hand. His wife was quiet, but she smiled sweetly. “She finally seems content.," he thought silently. The events of the last few months had exhausted his wife. But now, she seemed to rise from her depression, fresh and confident. They could start anew, unburdened. Feeling relieved, he turned to see an elderly woman on a bench, knitting a tiny, infant-sized sweater. Tears filled his eyes. “Well, this insanity,” he thought. But as he dropped his wife’s hand and crouched to his knees, covering his red, sobbing face in embarrassment, he cried like he never had before. He began to grieve the loss of their unborn child. His wife knelt beside him, cradling him. He heard her whisper softly, “It is about time you cried, my dear sweetheart. Thank you.”

Wednesday, April 15, 2015

Who is he?



His sad, clown-like eyes shine a deep but vibrant brown.  A mess of amber hair is sliced with a patch of white at his right temple.  His nose twitches.  I watch his eyebrows express curiosity as well as laziness as he looks about the room without moving his head.  His lower jaw juts forward to reveal a peek-a-boo lower tooth, refusing to hide behind his lip. His tiny chin is covered with an old man's beard, long and white. His soft belly rises and lowers in a soothing, meditative rhythm, begging to be scratched. He is my Shih Tzu, Barry.

Give and Take


"I require proof of everything!" snorted the haughty man. The Mystic replied, "If you require proof of everything,you will never reach Enlightenment." There was a long silence, while the two men sipped hot green tea. The man, staring at the crude, dirt floor, sighed. with impatient irritation. "How do you expect modern-day society to accept that which you cannot explain, touch or feel? You are asking us to place reason aside in favor of something that is merely a nebulous proposition. That is just not reality." There was another long and uncomfortable silence, after which the Mystic replied, "You come to me seeking the key to happiness. Yet when it is offered to you, your back is already turned. That, indeed, is a most sad reality."

Monday, April 13, 2015

The Most Interesting Person I Have Met This Year


Her eyes sparkle with nervous energy.  Her laughter and enthusiasm make her appear to be on the verge of almost happily jumping out of her own skin at any moment while speaking.  She looks me directly in the eye and I sense that she is genuinely grateful for the stolen chance to tell me of her difficult journey.  She shares her heart-wrenching, tragic story, with an abundance of comedy to soften the razor-sharp edges. While she speaks at long length, she has the remarkable ability to mesmerize me.  Awestruck, no one shifts in their seat. I am glued to my chair, even though my bladder says otherwise.  No potty breaks for me- I must hear her every word. She tells my story- the story of a part of my life that has not yet happened.  With alternating terror and hilarity, she moves me back-and-forth between raucous belly-laughs and silent, held-back tears.  She narrates with the charisma of a Southern preacher, alternating her voice between barely audible words to fiery exclamations. As she abruptly ends her awesome talk to take a seat, I am acutely aware that I have been touched deeply by her beautiful spirit.  She is my sister in Spirit, telling me how bad it can get.  She validates the ominous warning: all I have is “a daily reprieve contingent on the maintenance of my spiritual condition.”  My heart is full.

Saturday, April 11, 2015

The Letter



During my daily walk, an unusually high wind gust picked up a piece of crumpled paper and gently placed it at my feet. I picked it up and read:

"Dear son: As the care of you has become too burdensome for my drug-addicted mind and body to bear, I have chosen to leave you with your Mi-Ma.  I know she will take good care of you.  Will you ever forgive me for being so weak?  Your life will be better off without me.  You are now the five-year-old, “man of the house.”  Take good care of your grandmother, she is frail.  Love, Mom.”

I have often wondered what happened to this poor little boy and his grandmother.  If only I knew more…At this point, I kneeled to pray on the sidewalk.  I am so grateful for my family.

Thursday, April 9, 2015

Serially Lost

Today I am writing about a loss: something or someone that was part of my life that is not anymore.  One of my earliest and most significant losses was the loss of my first dog.  His name was Bouvier, but we called him Boot-wa.  It was a cold, snowy night in Lee's Summit, Missouri.  The snow was about one foot deep and very fluffy.  Outside was a winter wonderland for children to play in.  There would definitely be no school the next day.  I put on my coat, hat, gloves and boots and went outside through the automatic garage door to shovel my neighbor's driveway; she was always good for a bunch of money after she had been drinking!  My dog had been in the garage in his usual back corner, sleeping away. 

The next part is difficult to write about.  As the garage door was going down my dog must have slipped out into the snowy darkness.  I had no idea.  He was a white poodle; about 25 to 30 pounds in weight, and against the snow one would have never seen him in the darkness.  When I returned home, I realized my dog was not in the garage.  It was several hours later, as I had taken the opportunity to play in the snow.  I by the time I got back and told my dad that the dog was nowhere to be found,  it was too late.  My sweet poodle had frozen to death, and we found him in the street covered in snow.  I wondered why I had not looked back as I left the garage, earlier that night.  I felt a heavy burden and a monstrously deep regret for being responsible for the death of my beloved canine.  

Yes, I was but a child who made a mistake; but I still feel the pain, thinking about it, some forty years later.  After that, I began taking in every stray dog  I  could find.  My poor father endured my version of repentance and accepted my strays as family.  This really helped heal my pain.  I am so grateful he understood.