I have a page sitting in draft. It's my story - the condensed version. I'm in a big debate with myself whether or not to publish it. Because it would make me really vulnerable which is why I haven't shared it with very many people. I read a post by Sarah Bessey the other day titled The Sanitized Stories We Tell which got me thinking about my story again. Early in the year I told my story at a speaker meeting. In front of a room full of people and into a microphone. And I told a sanitized version. See there were things that happened that affected me in a massive way, but I was just, shall we say, collateral damage. It is much easier to tell what happened to me personally than to tell that other junk and how it affected me. I remember having a conversation once about people giving their testimonies and why that had stopped. It was said that they stopped doing them so as not to "glorify sin." I have never heard anyone glorifying sin while giving their testimony. I wondered how anyone could even make that leap, but I think I know how. That is the kind of attitude that comes from growing up in a rigid fundamentalist legalistic religious culture that confuses behavior modification with heart change. That attitude is uncomfortable when people talk about how bad they were. That attitude produces people who say when a brother or sister has a public moral failure that they must not have ever been saved. They become uncomfortable because they have never broken any of the no-no sins like drinking alcohol, smoking cigarettes, doing drugs, cussing, or having sex outside of marriage. They weren't rebellious or troublemakers, always doing what they were told, and always putting up a nice looking facade. Are they uncomfortable because it defies thier legalistic rigid religion? Because God shows grace where we don't/can't/won't? Where we weren't given grace? We play a seriously flawed and deadly game when we wear a facade of righteousness. If we are able to keep all the right rules, what do we need Jesus for? Why did he have to die? When we put forth this appearance that we have God now and everything is always okay and we have our life together, we set other people up for failure. The truth is that we are all epic failures. But we don't have to be defined by our failure. We absolutely do not have to feel like we are alone in our failure nor in the failures of our loved ones. And that is why I want to share my story. So someone out there with a similar story will know that they are not alone, and that there is hope. If you liked this post, would you please share it below? Thank you!
I'm afraid of heights. I'm not sure when I developed it because I did not have it when I was a kid. I first realized it one year when my mom and I went out to the old house at Birdtown to winter prep it. We had to cover the attic vents which required carrying the covers up a ladder and hammering them in. I got up the ladder and freaked. I couldn't do it. Mom had to manhandle the vent on the ladder. I didn't get any better with ladders though I did get to a point where I could climb a ladder and do stuff, but barely, and I was terrified and hyperventilating the whole time. I had to face my ladder fear this weekend. Half of the living room had been repainted, but didn't get finished. Like most of the projects around the house. I finally tired of being pissed off about it and decided there was nothing stopping me from just finishing it. I had gotten more paint, and kudos to the lady at the Pittsboro Lowes who did an outstanding job of matching that paint. Labor day, I intended just to paint the one wall so I could move the TV, but it went so quickly that I did all of the room except for that small bit on one wall that is technically on the 2nd floor. That was going to involve getting on a ladder and painting at the same time. Some of it I was able to cut in from the 2nd floor landing, and thankfully that was the highest part. But still, I was going to have to get really high up on that 8 foot ladder with a paint bucket and brush...and actually paint. There I stood, 2 rungs from the top, paint in one hand, brush in the other. I dipped the brush, wiped off some of the excess paint, and put the brush to the top edge of the wall underneath the molding. No tape. "Just hold the brush steady and cut the line." I took a deep breath, and that's what I did. I focused on cutting a straight line, and kept the fact that I was on a ladder secondary. And it worked. I think in life we have a tendency to get so caught up in secondary issues that we are unable to do what we need to be doing. We get overwhelmed by things that are largely outside of our control so that we can't focus on what is within our sphere of influence. It wasn't that I ignored the fact that I was on a ladder. My safety depended on my awareness of standing on a very small surface 6ft off the floor. But my primary task was to paint a straight line, and as long as I focused on that task, I was able to do it without fear of falling. I also had to have faith that the ladder would work as designed. I made sure the ladder was solidly level and steady before I ever climbed it. I did not climb above the recommended highest safe rung, and stayed a rung below it. I made sure to lean my shins and knees against the 2 top rungs to steady myself. I am prone to vertigo so ensuring I had my body supported as much as I could helped to stave off that feeling of pitching. I did what was in my control, and left the rest to the ladder to not collapse. I took the appropriate safety measures with the ladder because they were within my sphere of influence. Then I let that go and focused on the task itself not allowing myself to stew on what-ifs or if-onlys. Focus on the task at hand. Just do the next right thing. Be aware, but do what is yours to do and do it well without grumbling and without fear. And don't live in fear over things that you have no control over. If you liked this post, would you please share it below? Thank you!
You would think that growing up in the United States this concept wouldn't be such an issue for me to grasp. Of course, growing up as a kid in the U.S., and in the Bible Belt South no less, I took a certain aspect of freedom for granted. Serving in the Air Force took care of most of that entitlement mentality. Actually, serving one short deployment in the Middle East took care of that though not at the time. But even still, I did not understand freedom because I didn't know what it was like to not be free. Or so I thought. I was never a slave so I couldn't understand what it's like to be a slave. I was never in jail so I couldn't understand what it's like to be a prisoner. I am predominantly European Caucasian so I couldn't relate to ethnic oppression. And I grew up as a Christian in the U.S. in the Bible Belt in the 70's and 80's where being a church-going Christian was just normative and therefore, couldn't relate to religious oppression. What I finally came to realize (thanks to some outside intervention) was that I was a slave to alcohol and a prisoner of my past. I was oppressed by a domineering father and a rigid religion as a child. I became so weighted down with guilt and shame as a child, and the only thing that was alleviating that pain was alcohol. I didn't feel the pain of not being good enough while I was drunk. I felt confident. I felt free. The freedom I thought I had while drunk was a lie. You are never free when you are spending all of your time and energy on trying to be "good enough" particularly when deep down you know you can never be perfect. Perfection as the standard will always leave you feeling inadequate. Eventually, you will realize the futility of trying and will throw your hands up in surrender because your life is unmanageable. There are 2 ways you can surrender. You can throw your hands up and say "Screw this!" or some variation of that thought, and proceed to do whatever you think is going to make you feel good. This is the path I took initially. Outwardly, it worked. I appeared to have everything together, but I was not working through my problems. I was just numbing and escaping. Therefore, life just kept becoming more unmanageable until it got to a point I couldn't cover it with a facade. The other way to surrender is to throw your hands up and say, "I can't do this anymore and I need help!" This is the point I eventually came to. My life had gotten so unmanageable that I was coming apart at the seams. It is taken a lot of therapy and a couple of 12 Step groups to sort through and work through my issues. But they couldn't really resolve my religion issues. I had God issues because of my Daddy issues. If I couldn't ever measure up to my dad's standards with my behavior, how could I ever hope to measure up to God's standard of absolute holy perfection? Plus since my dad had so many issues that he never addressed, I had contradictory information on what good behavior was. Because of his abuse, he abused, and I projected onto God's character that abuse was normal. And you know what abuse does to the abused? It makes them feel less than. Shamed. Not good enough. And it was rigid religion that allowed that abuse, because wives submit absolutely to their husbands, children cannot ever question their parents' behavior, and daddy's are the absolute boss and never wrong. This was God's way and so God must be like my daddy. Except He isn't. There wasn't really one event that opened my eyes. It was several things. Sessions with my therapist. Chats with my sponsor. Chats with friends. Blog posts. Books. Sermons. But one thing that stood out from a sermon, and I think it was one Pastor Jared preached, where he said, "Don't forget who you are, and don't forget whose you are." And it really started sinking in who I am in Jesus. What that really means. That God the Father's love for me is not contingent on my behavior. It never was. It's dependent on what Jesus did. I can quit trying to earn God's love because grace is given out of love. That's when I realized I was free. That's when I understood what freedom really is. Because that's when I finally understood what it means to rest in Christ; to "Be still and know that I am God." Jesus did all the work for me. I'm not ever going to be Mary Poppins, "perfect in every way." Freedom comes from knowing I don't have to be perfect because Jesus was perfect. As Pastor Benji said last Sunday in his sermon,
We're cleansed from the Stains of Sin & freed from the Chains of Sin!"
I made the decision. I didn't like it. I don't like it. I knew I wouldn't be "happy" with either option. I also know that keeping things status quo is not healthy for anyone involved. I feel like I ripped out a big chunk of my heart and punted it. I told that to my therapist and also that I felt kind of numb. Also that I felt like I needed a meltdown but that it would probably wait until the most inopportune time to strike. You know, like at work, because no one wants that. By "no one" I mean me. I continually find myself wondering if I am doing the right thing. Did I make the right decision? And thus goes the rationalization process. Slogans fall flat as trite cliche. The doctrine of my youth fails from one-sidedness and does nothing but cover me in guilt and shame. There comes a point when you realize you are the only one that is even remotely providing accountability to your husband. You can see that he is avoiding everyone but the friends who enable his behavior. You can see that he is not being honest with himself let alone anyone else. You see him walking around in that same facade you yourself used to walk in while keeping your addictions securely hidden away from view of anyone who might call you out on them. You know that as long as nothing changes, nothing is going to change because that is what has been happening for years. As I have been recovering, I have been seeing that I had few boundaries, and didn't enforce the few I had. It was easy to overlook because I was numbing/escaping myself so as not to have to deal with much of anything. It has been something like coming out of unconsciousness into consciousness and seeing how things really are and realizing this is not the lifestyle I want to continue in. So I tried setting boundaries, but they were not respected. I tried pointing out what was really going on, and was dismissed and told I am the one with the issues. But I'm not the only one with issues. I'm just the only one working on mine. And I have had enough of the insanity of addiction in my life. So after the latest incident of craziness, I retained an attorney and am filing separation in a way to enforce separation. There is no violence or threat thereof, so I can't get a restraining order. But since I am the only one working consistently and have been the only one paying the mortgage and utilities, I'm not the one who is going to leave the house. And our children have dealt with the dysfunction long enough. I've been told that he's never going to hit bottom as long as I'm cushioning it. To be true, my lack of boundaries and lack of enforcing boundaries has certainly been enabling. But I finally had enough. So I took the opportunity while I had it to put up a legally enforceable boundary. And it freaking hurts. I feel like the pain is going to consume me in an implosion. As if my soul is collapsing in on itself. But I am not going to cave in. I will not continue to live with the insanity of active addiction. I will not continue to subject my children to continued dysfunction. If you liked this post, would you please share it below? Thank you!
I am really struggling right now. When stuff hits the fan, it really hits the fan. I'm not struggling in isolation, though. I've shared with several close friends what is going on. I've even shared it with my co-workers because that morning I wasn't coming to work until my daughter was home, I felt I needed to tell them why. I have been put into the position - again - where I have to step up and take charge. Only this time, I have had a little taste of sanity, and I can see how life has become unmanageable again. I've had enough of the insanity and uncertainty and dysfunction. I am now in a position where I am forced to make some big decisions, all of which are going to involve uncomfortable (at best) confrontation. I also struggle with how much is too much to share publicly. I absolutely won't put this stuff on Facebook, but technically if I put it out here on my blog, I am putting on Facebook since I auto-publish to Facebook. There's also the little matter of not having shared what happened with family except for one cousin. Above all, I don't want unsolicited advice nor do I want a big outpouring of sympathy. I've played my own role in the dysfunction that does not leave me a completely innocent victim. There has been complicity on my part in the past that enabled things to progress to the point they have. However, that does not mean that I must maintain status quo out of misguided duty whose purpose is to keep up appearances. Sooner or later you can no longer hide the effects and consequences that accompany the disease of alcoholism and addiction. Then you are left with decisions on whether to let things continue to spiral in a way that sucks your family down with it or to protect the truly innocent from further harm from a disease none of you can control. This is where I am. Facing a decision that I don't want to make. Do nothing knowing things are going to continue to get worse (as they have been) while sucking multiple people down, or I can take a stand with the knowledge that the stand itself has the potential for loss. Yet I keep hearing the voice of Spock, "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few - or the one." If you liked this post, would you please share it below? Thank you!
"It's always best to start at the beginning." - Glinda, the Good Witch of the North I have realized something really scary. I am the most emotionally and mentally healthy person in my household, and the most mature. Right. I'm the mature one. But while perhaps I live according to the mantra that Ouiser Boudreaux calls "A dirty mind is a terrible thing to waste" far too much, there is, unfortunately, a reason why I am the most emotionally and mentally healthy and mature person in my household. I realized my life was unmanageable and would remain that way unless I got help. I made the decision to do whatever I had to do to change. Sometimes I still fight it tooth and nail because I am still afraid. I spent my childhood living in fear, and it is deeply ingrained in me. What I am slowly learning, and much more slowly than I like, is that it's ok to be afraid, and push through it anyway. Just like when I run, I'm ready to quit a quarter mile into it. But I keep putting one foot in front of the other because when I finish, I won't remember how bad that first and/or second mile sucked. I will feel great because I kept going and finished. I had a sit-down, face-to-face meeting with my sponsor last week. I was in a huge funk, and I needed help getting to the root of what was going on. Plus, I find it is a lot harder to hold stuff back when she's looking at me. Through the course of processing and reprocessing what was discussed, I decided I need to get back in Al-Anon. I was going to go back to my home group Friday night, but I ended up going to an A.A. meeting instead. As I was adjusting my Friday night plans in my head, and planning out when I could hit the next Al-Anon meeting, I had a thought. I can have an Al-Anon #DoOver. I decided I could go to the same Saturday morning beginner's meeting that I started in, and this time do it right. You know, because I never really worked an Al-Anon program the first time around. I went determined to speak also, but I didn't really get a chance. However, I recognized someone whom I had met nearly 2 years ago in that room when I first started, and I went and spoke to her after the meeting. I connected. 2 years ago, I spoke to no one, and tried to quickly get out of there. I was overwhelmed. I had been crying and fighting crying the whole meeting, and I needed to get out where I could. This time, I could tell by remembering how I felt the last time that I have grown quite a bit. I teared up a little, but while it is still automatic to fight it, I didn't put all my effort into it. But I was also able to laugh and nod my head in understanding with other shares. I might be a beginner again, but I am no longer a newcomer. I'm glad to have the chance to start over. If you liked this post, would you please share it below? Thank you!
I hated that phrase. Because some people never seem to get to the "make it" point and just fake it. And they just fake it when it will benefit them in some way. They can talk the talk around the right people, but just don't seem to ever be able to personally apply it to their relationships with other people. You know, hypocrites. The other night, I was in a situation where I had to give a really brief version of my alcoholic story - what it was like, what happened, and what it's like now. I didn't really put any time into preparing for it even though I knew I would have to give it. I just let it largely flow spontaneously. As I listened to myself speaking (which one can do when one dissociates), I heard myself saying something that I had said before, but hadn't really heard.
"I knew how to pretend to live, but I didn't know how to live."And that would be why "fake it 'til you make it" pissed me off so bad. I spent most of my life "faking it," but not ever "making it." From the outside it appeared I had it all together. And to an extent I did. But I was motivated by perfectionism; always striving for an unknown and/or unrealistic expectation of what success (professional, personal, and religious) really was. Then my facade - my carefully constructed bubble of control - shattered.
7. Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings. - Alcoholics Anonymous, p. 59At this point in working the steps, I was told that God might not remove all of them, and that He wouldn't necessarily do it right away. One of my character defects is impatience, so it was a given it wouldn't happen immediately. That doesn't mean He isn't capable of removing my defects. He is. But He isn't a genie that grants wishes the way we want it. He is a loving Father who knows and provides our NEEDS instead of our WANTS. I always want the easier, softer way. I have found that my greatest growth comes through "suffering" rather than being handed to me. And so, with the knowledge that that my request to have my shortcomings removed could be delayed or answered with "No," I was told to believe they would be removed regardless and until they are, "act as if they have been." Fake it 'til you make it. Finally, I realized the spirit behind it wasn't one of hypocrisy, it was one of faith and good will. Take, for instance, my insecurity. It has not been taken away yet. Left alone and allowed to "rule," my insecurity paralyzes me from making good decisions, or even any decision at all. Nothing gets done, status quo remains, and life becomes even more unmanageable. But, I can "act as if" I am not insecure, and make a decision that is at best uncomfortable or at worst downright scary. As long as I don't make a rash decision without looking at the consequences (good and bad) or take way too long to look at every thing I think might go wrong, something amazing is going to happen whether or not the decision is the correct one. I become less afraid to make a decision. I become less insecure. Sometimes the worst part of a decision is the fear of making the wrong decision. Not because you can always make the right decision, but because making a wrong decision reinforces how you think about yourself. "I'm stupid." "I can't do anything right." Those are products of false humility which is actually just an aspect of self-centered pride. And they are lies.
The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. What you have learned and received and heard and seen in me—practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you. (Philippians 4:5-9 ESV)Motives matter. Motive is why "fake it 'til you make it" can actually work. Motive is where you have to be totally honest when you ask yourself why you are acting on a "good" behavior. Are you trying to fool other people into thinking you have it all together, or are you simply just trying to do the next right thing because it is the right thing regardless of your feelings? If you liked this post, would you please share it below? Thank you!
"You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means." - Inigo Montoya I've been having a recurring dream. It isn't exactly the same dream, but it is the same theme. I am sometimes in a prison camp, sometimes in a cult, and sometimes in some type of camp like a reservation. No matter which it is, I am trying to escape. These dreams have been going on for at least a couple of months. Granted, I am grateful that I am no longer having the gray-mud-vomiting zombie dreams, but those were only 3 or 4 dreams total. My escape dreams have been 3 or 4 a week for several weeks. Enough to wonder what the heck is going on in my subconscious. I wonder if maybe my brain is trying to work out how I am trying to escape the lies I have believed about myself since I was a child. Maybe that sense I had that I didn't belong or fit in was my way of coping with so much contradictory reality as such a young age. I woke up in the middle of the night a couple of days ago, and couldn't go back to sleep. I didn't have a deluge of racing thoughts like I used to have, but I couldn't seem to settle my brain back down enough to get back to sleep for 2 or 3 hours. I had another thing that I hadn't ever told anyone. Funny how things like that pop up when you get repeatedly triggered over something related. In the process of revisiting, praying, unpacking, praying, peeling that freaking onion, and praying some more, the thought came to me:
Nothing was normal. Everything was distorted. I don't think I have a clear objective memory because there was so much contradictory information.I didn't want to let that thought be lost once I went back to sleep, so I wrote it down. There is usually running involved in the dreams. Running away from somebody, some group, some zombie, some trap. The running never ends, except for that one time I was trapped in an empty cargo bay about to die from irradiation or poison. But at least the zombies weren't in there with me. Every race I've run has always had a clear end. There have been times I was sure I would never make it to the end, but I've always managed to keep going - even if I could just barely put one foot in front of the other. Because I knew there was a clearly defined end. And a couple of times because my friend Karyn either came back to get me or stayed with me vowing to drag me across the finish line if necessary. Sometimes I feel like I am chasing after "normal," when I have no idea what "normal" is. There is a conversation that takes place in Star Trek Generations between Dr. Soran and Geordi LaForge regarding Geordi's eyes.
Dr. Soran: Have you ever considered a prosthesis that would make you look a little more... how can I say... more normal? Geordi: What's normal? Dr. Soran: "What's normal?" Well, that's a good question. Normal is what everyone else is and you are not.Geordi was blind from birth. There was no prosthesis that was going to give him sight in the same way seeing people had. The banana clip visor he wore gave him the ability to see things that sighted people could not. Soran was trying to force him to focus on the external appearance of normal - looking normal. In later movies, Geordi has prosthetic eyes rather than the banana clip visor. His eyes still didn't look "normal." Geordi's handicap did not handicap him. He couldn't see things the way other people see, but he had a unique view of things that made his lack of normal sight valuable to those who had normal sight. His biggest physical weakness was also his biggest physical strength.
So to keep me from becoming conceited because of the surpassing greatness of the revelations, a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to harass me, to keep me from becoming conceited. Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong. (2 Corinthians 12:7-10)Maybe the reason I never escape in my dreams is because escaping the past doesn't change it. I'm never going to have that "normal" childhood. I'm never going to have a "normal" loving relationship with my dad. And you know what? I might not ever "feel normal." But I am not alone. Even in those dreams, I am not always alone. Sometimes there is a small group with me who are also trying to escape, and we are working together to escape and/or overthrow oppressors (or zombies). Here in the real world, in my real life, I am not alone. I have a tight network of friends who know most (and some all) of my junk. And they are willing to drag me across the finish line - to help rescue me from the cult/nazi/zombies. I'm not the only person to not grow up in a "normal" environment. We generally try to appear "normal" because we want to be "normal" - to fit in. But we tend to find each other. And that's where our "abnormal" lives intertwine and become strength. We understand each other. We can help each other in ways "normal" people can't. And when "normal" people find themselves embroiled in the type of "abnormal" that was our "normal," we can be there for them in ways their "normal" friends and family can't. Thus, weakness becomes strength. And "normal" means nothing.
"Can I handle the seasons of my life?" - Stevie Nicks I may have mentioned this before, but do you know what happens when you peel an onion? You cry. I talked about why I was going to stop taking my antidepressant, but I really had no idea how that was going to play out. Despite weaning off over 4 weeks, I still had some significant withdrawals. But the crying. What are the odds that in your first week off your meds, you are going to be triggered. Repeatedly. About something you did NOT want to deal with so soon. (Or at all.) I definitely didn't expect to be triggered at church. I knew I was going to break down this past Sunday. I had looked at the service lineup, and texted with my friend Stacey who was singing. I had no idea I would have such an ugly cry meltdown. After the sermon, we had communion. But not just communion. We had the opportunity to be anointed with oil, and prayed over with laying on of hands. I walked up to Pastor Nate a complete wreck. "I can't even word." I could barely get out more than that because of the sobbing. But I didn't really have to because he knows my story. We stood there in front of everyone, he praying over me, and me sobbing. And I was okay with that.
Is anyone among you suffering? Let him pray. Is anyone cheerful? Let him sing praise. Is anyone among you sick? Let him call for the elders of the church, and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord. And the prayer of faith will save the one who is sick, and the Lord will raise him up. And if he has committed sins, he will be forgiven. Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working. (James 5:13-16 ESV)I then took the cup (because the bread ain't gluten free), and sat back down. I sobbed uncontrollably some more. And it was okay. And it is a big breakthrough. I wasn't allowed to cry when I was a kid. My crying was categorized as either "having a fit" or "showing my ass." So I learned how to hold it in, and not cry. And then I medicated/self-medicated so I wouldn't cry. But crying isn't something to be ashamed of. I've been praying for healing. Family and friends have been praying for my healing. Crying is part of that healing. All I have to do is let it happen. And it's okay.
I've done a few things lately that I swore I'd never do. Like plucking and shaping my eyebrows. I wore my bushy, manly brows like a badge earned from railing against conforming to western feminine culture. But then I decided to get my eyebrow pierced, and one of my coworkers talked me into eyebrow maintenance. And I haven't gotten the piercing. Yet. I also said I would never get back up to 200 pounds. But I did. It's not the number on scale so much as the clothes that are no longer fitting, or at least not fitting comfortably. And the reason my spare tire got reinflated is that I stopped eating healthy and running regularly. I stopped being disciplined about my physical health. It's a discipline issue. I was reminded that I know how to eat healthy, and I know how to exercise regularly. I've done it before. I lost 40 pounds, and felt great. (Physically) I can do it again, but I have to discipline myself to do it. I made myself a schedule. That would be another thing I wasn't ever going to do. Oh, I've been all about putting appointments on the calender, but not planning out my days like I did. Because it seemed legalistic. I stood at my whiteboard and wrote down everything I have to do every day (critical tasks) and at what times. Like work and sleep. I made those non-negotiables. Although even that is within reason because of Thursday night rehearsal. I'm not getting home before 9pm from rehearsal, and therefore won't be in bed by 9pm. But that's also (normally) only twice a month. I then listed out essentials like church and meetings. I don't have to do these like I have to go to work, but I am making them non-negotiables nonetheless. My spiritual and emotional health are dependent upon those. Then I worked in "me time." These are also non-negotiable because 1) I need alone time to recharge because I am an introvert, 2) I need time for self-care (exercise, meditation, reading), and 3) I have interests that I am going to work on that I need alone time for - like writing. I even scheduled social time even though church, meetings, and the running club constitute social time also. But it's a more specific social time like coffee/dinner with friends. All because in order to do everything I want and need to do for my health, I need some serious discipline. I know me. I know what I do without structure, and it is largely unproductive. And so now I am telling myself that I should not say, "You will never be able to get your life manageable because you will never be organized." I've never really tried.