Showing posts with label counseling. Show all posts
Showing posts with label counseling. Show all posts

Monday, February 1, 2016

Ruby Revisited

I spent a little more time with Ruby, polishing up what was there and adding some more details in.   If you missed the first version of this chapter she is a character I am creating who may someday turn into a novel. She is somewhat autobiographical and somewhat not.  Factual fiction is what I like to call it, but my friend tells me that it is really called autobiographical fiction.  Whatever it is called this is the start of Ruby's story.  This is nowhere near a final draft, but it is a little more telling into who she is and where she is than the earlier version.


………………Chapter One…………………


Ruby walked out onto the front steps and breathed in deeply.  She watched as her breath formed a cloud in the crisp fall air.  The leaves all around her were dying.  She took in their bold colors.  It was a beautiful death she thought.  A bright yellow leaf fluttered past her in the wind and landed in a puddle.  She hoped her death of sorts would be as graceful.  

She took in another deep breath and stepped into her new life, suitcase in hand.  A bright yellow cab drove her to her new home.   As the cab pulled up to the curb she opened the door and saw the reflection of yellow from the midst of the watery sidewalk.  The symbolism between the cab and the leaf from earlier was not lost on her.  It was her own fluttering in the wind, this ride to her future, and now she was near her end; the end of who she was and the way she had learned to be.  

She wanted to jump back into the cab and be driven away to anywhere but here, but she knew that this death was necessary.  Just as in nature there has to be a death before new growth can occur and if there was one thing she needed more than anything else it was new growth.  New life.  A resurrection.  The old had to die so that new could come and she was ready.  At least that is what she told herself.


Once settled into her new room, Ruby pulled out her journal.  

November 1

The leaves are all dying.  It seems a fitting farewell.  I am terrified of this next chapter, this shedding that I will be doing, because I know that just like the trees I will be laying myself bare.  There will be nothing left in which to hide myself behind.  
I will be exposed and left naked.  

I must remember that I chose this.  I chose to come here. This process is necessary.  I can do this.  I am ready and I am terrified.




A knock came on the door. Ruby closed her journal and placed it in her drawer underneath the underwear.  

“Ruby?”

“Yes, I am coming.”

Ruby opened the door to a plump, short, middle aged woman with graying hair.  Her name tag said“Beverley”.  She was cheerful and kind as she showed Ruby around the complex on the way to the first session with the person that would be her one-on-one therapist.

“This here, is the dining room.  Meal times are posted on the door.  If you need a snack between meals they always have a basket of fruit and some other odds and ends in the lounge along with bottles of water.”  

Past the dining room was the lounge with all the amenities Beverley had described plus some.  From there they went to the front desk where she showed Ruby the signing in and out process for leaving the building.  For the first 72 hours Ruby would need to be escorted from building to building and after that she could earn the ability to go unescorted, but she would still need to sign in and out every time she left.

The grounds were lovely.  Ruby saw many places that she would want to just sit and take in the beauty once she proved she wasn’t a flight or suicide risk.  After a short tour they reached their destination.  It was an old ornate building.  “This originally was a college that was founded in the early 1900’s.” Beverley told her as she led her through the doors. “I just love all of the old architecture myself.”  Ruby, smiled her agreement and then felt her stomach turn to knots as she walked through the large glass door and inside.  Standing before them was the woman who would be the crux and crucible of her time here.



The woman extended her hand as she said, “Hello Ruby!  I am Dr. Mary Robins, it is nice to meet you.  Are you ready for your first session?” 

Ruby gave a nod as she shook the hand before her.  Dr. Robins was well dressed and much younger than Ruby had expected, much prettier too. 

Ruby turned to Beverley, “Thank you for showing me around.”

“You are more than welcome!  I won’t be here when you are done, so I hope you have a good night.  See you tomorrow.” And with that she turned and walked away leaving Ruby with the Doctor and a pit in her stomach.  

“My office is this way” said Dr. Robins leading the way.  As Ruby followed her down the hallway she noticed her shoes and how much she liked them.  They were stylish, yet sensible.  If cute shoes were any indicator of a person’s personality she figured she was going to like this woman just fine.

Entering the room Ruby took inventory of her surroundings.  There was a couch, two armchairs, a desk, and a couple of bookcases.  One of the chairs was very definitely meant for  the Doctor, the couch was closest to that chair and the other chair was at the other end of the couch, opposite the Dr’s.  The bookshelves were lined with books and some personal photos.  The walls were painted a cheery shade of tan with a touch of deep burgundy brown.  It was the perfect amount of color to give the room a homey feel and make you forget you were at an institution.  There was a large mirror behind the couch. Ruby caught a glimpse of herself just long enough to regret it.  She may have been good at hiding behind her put together exterior for others, but she could never hide herself from her own reflection and the truth she saw looking back at her.  Yes, those eyes of hers may have been a mirror for others to see what it was they wanted to see, but for her they were always a window and she never liked what she saw inside of them. She made a mental note to avoid looking there in the future.  

The door shut behind her and she quickly had to decide where she should sit.  If she sat in the chair farthest away she would seem stand offish. That would not be a good impression.  The spot closest to Dr. Robins seemed too familiar and vulnerable.  The middle of the couch would have to do.  It would be safe, but not distant.  

Once seated the real panic began to set in.  What was she doing here?  What had she done?  This was too much, she was in way over her head!  What had she been thinking?  She closed her eyes, slid her hands underneath her legs, and took a deep breath, then another.  

“Calm down, you can do this.” She told herself, “Today will be simple, she is just going to ask you simple questions.  The hard work will come later, today you will be fine.”

Ruby opened her eyes and let them move from the sight of her own feet over to the pair of cute shoes and then up to Dr. Robins eyes.  Her face was kind and her eyes held a gentle wisdom.  

“Why don’t I start by telling you a little bit about myself first and see if you have any questions for me.” said the therapist.

She talked of her educational background, work history, and therapeutic style. Ruby took note of every aspect  of the doctor while she listened.  The quality of the clothes she wore, the manicured fingernails, the rather large wedding set on her hand.  The lack of wrinkles and gray hair probably meant she didn’t have any children yet, unless she dyed her grays away.  To Ruby she looked like a brown haired therapist Barbie doll, perfectly styled and professional. 

Interrupting Ruby’s mental inventory the Dr. asked, “Do you have any questions for me?”  

In her own mind she said, “About a thousand!”, but she had no idea what the boundaries or the protocol was of things to ask.  She didn’t want to accidentally overstep and then feel the embarrassment and pain of the possible reprimand and awkwardness that would follow.  “Only one.” is what she said out loud. “What made you choose this line of work?  I have heard most people become therapists, because they are trying to find a way to fix themselves.”  She knew the question was rather pointed,  but the purpose was to level the ground a little.  Ruby knew why she was messed up, but she wanted to know how human her therapist was as well.  She needed to hear something that made her a little closer to human, well her kind of a human, imperfect. She needed to know that this woman sitting by her would be able to handle the vile creature she was beneath the surface.  Maybe even be able to empathize.

“Well, that is an interesting question.” Dr. Robins took a moment to formulate her answer.  “I watched some of my family members struggle with psychological needs who were really helped through therapy and I always grew up knowing that is what I wanted to do.”

That answer was less than satisfying. 

“Now, why don’t you tell me about you?”  She asked as she picked up a pen and readied herself to write in the notebook that sat in her lap.

“What would you like to know?” 

“Whatever it is you think is important to tell me.” Dr. Robins said as she looked at her expectantly.

That question was too broad, too general.  She had no idea what she was supposed to find important. She was here to be brave and talk and she had no idea what to say, so she said the first safe and relevant thing that came to mind.

“Well, I am sitting here, so that should tell you something.”

“What should that tell me?”

“That I am broken.  A little crazy, maybe.  And weak for needing to even sit here.”

“Okay, let’s break that statement down a bit more.  What is it that made you broken?”

Ruby pondered this for a moment before answering . “Life?  Yes, life.  And maybe God.”

“So, if those two things made you broken, what parts of you did they break specifically and how?”

These questions were quickly moving out of the safe zone and into uncomfortable territory, but she made herself answer anyway. “Life broke my will to want to continue living most days.  It broke my trust.  Life and God both broke my sense of worth.  Life has become this thing that I just have to get through until I can finally die.  Although, there are moments of happiness, but there is always something lurking in the shadows, just waiting to catch me, bring me down.” Here she had to pause.  Here is where the words got tougher to get out and over her lips.  “God, well, He created me.” She stopped looking at eyes and stared at the floor.  “He created me knowing full well what life was going to give me and He created me anyway.  He created me in order to be broken, to be used.”  On the word ‘broken’ hot tears burned at the corners of her eyes, “COME ON!” She thought.  “What the Hell happened to my simple?  My ease into the hard stuff slowly?” Her toes pushed down into her shoes like talons gripping for stability.

“What happened to break your trust and steal your joy? How were you used?”

Those questions went too far.  Before the words could even form an answer in her mind the terror came bubbling up.  A nauseating pit grew deep in her belly and a sharp clawing  feeling scratched at her chest.  Just the thought of speaking the reasons out loud had her nails digging into the bottom of her legs.  She shook her head “No”.  She wasn’t going to answer that. She couldn’t. 

Dr. Robins saw her reaction to the question and wrote down a couple of notes while giving Ruby time to form an answer that never came.  

“It is okay, we can come back to that later.  Why don’t you tell me what you are feeling right now.”

“It is hard to put into words.” Just trying to put emotion into word was difficult.  Any words she could find to say felt like a betrayal of trust, a secret that wasn’t supposed to be shared.  How does one describe what feels like your insides are being devoured whole when each word to come out of your mouth is equivalent to taking a bite out of your own chest leaving you bloody and raw.  She sat blinking and breathing trying to separate herself from the feelings so that she could answer. “Panic.  Sheer terror. Torture.” She eventually eked out.

“Those are strong feelings. I would like you to take a few moments to just breathe and then when you are ready you can tell me what makes you say you might be crazy?”

There was much that Ruby could say on that, but not right now, not after all of her internal alarms had been set off.  All she wanted to do right now was to close her eyes and make everything around her be gone.  She wanted to  stand up and leave. Neither of those were an option though. She had come here to battle, to defeat the demons that clawed at her thoughts, but she felt as though she was already losing …failing.  Talking had always been hard for her.  Writing was the safer option, but a pen can only slay so much.  

She looked down at her feet as she spoke slowly, intently. “Sane people don’t beg God to kill them. Sane people don’t need to check themselves into mental institutions.  And before you ask, that is what makes me weak.  Being here makes me weak, because I can’t figure out how to continue living on my own.  I need someone else to help me and that makes me weak.  Needing help makes me vulnerable.  In my life vulnerability is never safe.  Vulnerability IS weakness.”

Dr. Robins looked at Ruby intently, “I don’t see weakness when I look  at you.” Ruby looked up into her eyes as she listened.  “It took a lot of courage for you to come here.  It is very brave to admit you need help and then to find someone that can give you that help.  Weakness is nowhere in this room.” She paused for a moment to let the words settle into Ruby’s mind before she asked, “How would you describe this desire within you to both want to live and  to die?”

Ruby didn’t even have to think about this one, she already knew the answer. Her whole life she had been living the answer to this question. “It is a war.”

The young Doctor tilted her head slightly and thought for a moment.  “Let me ask you this question; how many wars do you know of that are won by a single soldier?  You don't  have to answer that.  In fact I don’t want you to answer it.  As we leave here I would like you to think about this, if wars are won by an army, wouldn’t it make sense that a strong soldier would gather other soldiers to help win the battle?”


Ruby let that soak in for the rest of the evening.  

Wednesday, May 1, 2013

The Hard Goodbye

Today was a day of goodbyes. 
 I couldn't let myself really sink into the goodbye's too deeply or I wouldn't have been able to move on to the next. 
 It started with my last visit to the hospital where my boys receive their therapies once a week. 
We go two different days a week for 3 different boys. 
 One of the secretaries I have been chit chatting casual conversations with for the last 9 years.  Knowing that I would not be walking into that waiting room again was hard enough, but when I left there I went to my hardest goodbye......
The hard goodbye that leaves me tear soaked and childlike.
  The one that emotionally has my child me clinging to legs and begging to stay while the rational me pulls that clinging child away.
 It was a very hard goodbye. 
 I couldn't let myself sink completely into it while I was there. 
 Now that it is 7 hours later the depth of it is washing over me. 
 I want to run back in time and say more, feel more, be more, but there is no running back into time; 
  no re-opening that door and clinging to legs for one more moment.

So I will breathe and lay back into it, try to float above these lapping waves of sadness so that they don't over take me. 
I know that the sun will rise tomorrow and that the hurting child will calm and somehow learn to grow. 
But for now I will let her and I ride on these emotions,
because if I don't we both might drown.


Linking with
 
 
and
 

Thursday, April 4, 2013

When a person becomes your Jesus and you have to say goodbye

"What are you taking with you?"


She asked me this in regards to our time together.  Knowing that it is ending soon.  The relationship that isn't, is coming to it's end and she wants to know what I will bring with me from the last two years.

I am not good on the spot.  Words don't really like to come unless they are formed under fingertips and key strokes.  I told her I was going to bring a pocket sized her with me.  My pocket sized Mireille.  Her voice questioning my responses/viewpoints on events and my take on them.  In otherwords I would be bringing grace with me.  In times when my own voice is harsh, hurtful, and critical her voice will be there too, challenging the status quo of my relationship with myself. 



The more I press these keys the more I realize that she has become my Jesus.

Not that I worship her.  Nor do I find her perfect or my savior.

But I hear Him in her.  I hear Him in her voice, her words, her insights.  There have been times when I have sat mute with a mind full of words but not a sound to be made; and it is as if Jesus has given her the words to say.  I have almost felt Him whispering them to her in her spirit, because that is the only way she would have known.  Known how to speak grace into the hateful spiteful words that encompassed my mind, to break through that cloud of self loathing and shame. Her ability to speak the unspeakable for me.  It is the first time I have ever felt understood.  It was a super natural understanding.  The same Jesus who walks the echoing hallways of my memories also lives inside of her and He was letting her in without me saying a word. 

I will miss her and her Jesus voice.  Her ability to listen to words that haven't been spoken.  It is a rare gift. 

I am not sure yet how I am going to be able to say goodbye, because how do you say goodbye to someone like that in your life?  But I will have to and it is coming.

Can you relate?  Have you been here? 

I keep thinking of that day in heaven when I get to run up to her and I will get to say, "Look, look, I made it!" and she will get to see me twirling instead of falling. I will be able to grab her hand and tell her the rest of my story.  I will get to paint the images of the roads I was able to journey with words that no longer need to be typed because she and her Jesus voice helped me to start walking again.  And it is that day that will allow me to get through the soon coming goodbye day, because the goodbye is only temporary in the eternal scheme of things. 


Linking up with Emily and Imperfect Prose

Thursday, March 7, 2013

8 weeks of wednesdays

On counseling:

3/6/13

Nine weeks of Wednesdays, now eight after today's session.  That is it.  Only 8 weeks left with the person who has become my confidant, my balance, the person who speaks grace to me.  Eight weeks and then it is over. 

How strange of a relationship this is.  How helpful and harmful is this relationship of sorts.

It took me a good long time to be able to open up.  Even still the words clog in my throat and scamper out of my head and we just sit staring at each other for a spell.  And now here I am with only 8 weeks left.  And then that is it, the end. 

Eight weeks left with this woman who will never be my friend.  Who I will never know outside of those four walls we sit within, but who knows me more intimately than any other human being on the earth. 

And this knowledge that it is ending and the awareness that I will never know her the way she knows me, it feels like rejection.  A rejection so deep that I am reduced to tears every time the thought of it brushes against my consciousness. 

I know that it is not rejection of me in those rational parts of my brain that understand her job, the way it works, and how it is.  But oh how those other parts cry out and scream  R.E.J.E.C.T.I.O.N at me.  Along with UNworthy, FOOLish, FOOlish girl.  And I feel it in my toes and they make my leg shake with the acknowledgement of this abandonment that is coming.  The shaking foot rocks my body, trying to give comfort, desperately trying to soothe the loneliness that I feel.  It is a self soothing habit formed long ago in a time when I would have tea parties with Jesus and my stuffed animals, because they were my only friends.

This counseling that has been so good for my soul is also a threat to it at the same time.  It is the binding up and the undoing of the fragilest parts of me.

She has asked me if I will see another counselor once we move.  My answer is no, because I don't think I can do this again.  This learning to trust someone so deeply who is so transient in my  world.  What I need is confidant and friend. Friend who isn't bound by four walls and 45 minute blocks of time once a week. 

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

On Healing

On Healing

 
It is S.L.O.W.
 
It is painful.
 
It is lifting and heavy.
 
       It is like trying to breathe after running a fast mile, or in my case around the block, okay I’ll be honest, more like just DOWN the block, not even around it. I am gasping for the life giving oxygen that my body needs but the breathing burns my lungs. Yes, healing is like that. Good for you but it burns at the same time. At least that is my experience so far.

       I never knew how long it would take, this healing thing. It has been over two years since I started counseling and two years this month with my current counselor. I have only 11 weeks left with her before we move. Only 11. Not nearly enough to do what needs to be done, but it is all I’ve got. I have been asked by family members if I still even need it and what do we have to talk about after all this time. I would have liked to think when I started that I would have been done by now, but the truth is that there is a lot in my insides that need to be undone and relearned and retrained and released and all of that takes time. Especially for a girl like me, a girl who chokes on her words and they get stuck in the back of my throat. A girl who takes a long time to trust that I can say things out loud in front of eyes and it will all be okay. A girl whose words flee from her mind when someone is there to hear them. All of that takes time to work through and time is running out. And to be perfectly honest, even with two years in I am feeling like it just hasn’t been enough. I am tellin’ ya peoples I am a messy, messy thing. I am not sure how things are gonna look or work when we move, but I am going to keep on trying.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

So Far So Good....

My appointment today went well.  Dr. Reece seems very nice and understanding.  I was surprised by how young she is.  I must say it feels a bit odd going to a therapist who is younger than I am.  She was receptive to my blog "book" though and said that it will be very helpful to her (you were right Jane and Li'l-bit) since a lot of the questions that she was asking have already been covered in so many of my personal blogs and some of the blogs from here. 

She already gave me some advice on how to start changing some things.  I am looking forward to seeing what will come from this new adventure of sorts.  She did tell me that I may not be able to remember the Shadow since I was so young.  She said that most first memories for people start around age 5 or 6.  People who remember things between the ages of 3 and 4 are a smaller percentage.  For people to remember things that happened between age 1 and 2 is pretty much un-heard of.  She also said that earlier memories tend to be a sign of intelligence.  That last bit surprised me actually.  I am still holding out hope that I can remember and deal with what needs dealing with.  My body remembers, something in the recesses of my mind remembers, so it is there and if it is there then there must be a way to bring it back up into the forefront of my memory.

I will keep you posted how things progress.  It should be an interesting road to walk if nothing else.

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

And so begins.....

A new chapter in my life. I start seeing my psychiatrist tomorrow, or is she a psychologist? Either which way, I start seeing her tomrrow. I am a bit nervous about it. Will she be receptive to me writing out most of my feelings? Will she be easy to talk to like Rachel was? Will she be able to help me hunt down the Shadow? So many questions. I printed out all of my blogs that might be helpful to getting to know me and put them in a binder for her. I even put page numbers and made a table of contents for it. Now I am beginning to wonder if that was a bit pretentious of me. What if she doesn't want to read them?



Uggh, the unknown can drive me so crazy. At least it is less than 24 hours before i get some of my questions answered.

Saturday, January 22, 2011

The Healing Road

 
What is it that this road to healing is going to look like?  I am so curious to know.  Will the path be rocky, or will I find it paved and solid?  Okay, so I doubt a healing path is paved.  That is just wishful thinking on my part hoping that it might be somewhat straight forward and easy.  I know that won't be the case.  A paved road indicates a road that has been traveled, time spent on it it, leveling it, clearing away the debris, and then the paving comes.  No one has been on my road of healing, so I am the one who is going to have to do the work. Getting a paved road is a process just as healing is going to be a process, and neither of them are going to happen overnight. 

I wonder how the road will end up looking when I am done.  There are lots of roads out there that never get paved for whatever reason.  They stay rocky, filled with potholes, possibly being over grown by shrubs and brambles.  Will my road to healing lead me to "home" or will it end up just being a road to nowhere?  There are those roads out there too...the ones that just end, with no connections to anywhere.

If I were an artist I would paint the picture of how my road might look:  Woman standing at the edge of a path, a path that twists and turns through a thick forest.  Someone waits at the edge of the forest to greet her and lead her to the one who can show her the way through the forest, The Path-finder.  The Path-finder leads her to the other side.  Here the road in front of her is a little more clear, but this is where the Path-finder stops.  She urges the woman on.  There is a steep hill in front of her, she can't see over the edge of that hill, but at the top of it stands yet another guide to help her face the unknown. 

This is where my painting would have to stop, because this is as much of the road as I know.  My Doctor led me to the Path-finder, my counselor, she took me through the forest of depression and silence.  She helped the words to come and now we stand together at the edge of the forest with the hill in front of me and my new psychiatrist standing at the top of that hill waiting to help me traverse the other side of it, the side I can't see.  The side that will determine if the road will lead to home or just end up going nowhere. 

The thought of a road going to nowhere is almost enough to make me want to run back to the forest, cut down some trees and build a house there on the edge of the forest.  Who wants to travel a road to nowhere?  Who wants to go through all that work just to find that all that effort has been fruitless? 

Don't worry, I don't plan on homesteading here, because what if I did and never braved the hill only to find out later that the road does lead to "home" and I find that all my efforts would have been worth the journey, but I gave up too soon.  That thought is more frightening than the first.  To be able to find wholeness and healing is worth the risk of possibly ending up on a road to nowhere.





Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Funny How It Works That Way.....

It is funny how a few weeks ago I couldn't get the thoughts to stop.  They kept charging at me full speed.  Thought after thought, so fast that I could barely catch hold of them to process what they were.  Now I am lucky to have any thought to ponder.  The thoughts have all but disappeared.

I was trying to explain this trasformation in a letter to my therapist.  It is hard to find things to talk about when there are no thoughts popping up.  At first I had so much that I could hardly pick a place to start.  I wrote letter after letter of thoughts.  Now blank pages stare and stay blank.

I explained it as if I am Jeckyll and Hyde.  Jeckyll contains the me that is happy, content, able to be a part of life and deal with the trials that life has to bring.  Jeckyll lives in the now, is not bogged down with the past.  Hyde contains all that is sad.  Everything that has ever hurt me or changed me.  It is all contained in Hyde.  When Hyde is around Jeckyll is not easily found.  The two are almost incapable of existing together at the same time.  It is one or it is the other.

Trying to find the other is like looking for someone in a dark room.  You can maybe make out their form, but you are unable to see them clearly.  That is how it is.  I am currently Jeckyll, fairly happy and content and Hyde is elusive, vague, and hard to find.  I know that all that "stuff" is still in there, but I can't make it out clearly. 

If I try and shine a light on it I am afraid that the happiness will run and hide and I will go back to being stuck with the "stuff" hitting me at 90 miles an hour again. 

I have my next counseling appointment tomorrow and I am trying to think of something to talk about.  Something that will maybe allow me to shine a light on one of the things in that dark room.  Unfortunately I am drawing blank.

This is going to be a long tedious road to healing I think.  As much as I dislike being "Hyde", one good thing comes from being in that mental space, counseling and finding things to talk about is much easier.  Kind of ironic that now I am comfortable talking in a counseling session the medications have forced Hyde back into hiding and along with him all the "stuff" that is worth talking about.  Funny how it works that way.


              HYDE



.

                                                                           JECKYLL

Why did I want to shine a light on that Hyde character again?!? 

=)

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Interesting

At my last counseling session I was telling my counselor about how and why I got kicked out of youth group when I was 16.  That isn't really what this blog is about, but the gist of the story is that I refuse to follow rules that have absolutely no purpose other than to control people solely for the purpose of controlling them and no other greater good.  I get rules, I understand them, but if you are going to have a rule and expect people to respect that rule then it ought to have a purpose to it.  Rules for the sake of having rules or controlling something that doesn't need controlling is silly and pointless. 

She suggested I look up Free Thinkers.  I just did. Here is what Wikipedia had to say about it:
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Freethought holds that individuals should not accept ideas proposed as truth without recourse to knowledge and reason. Thus, freethinkers strive to build their opinions on the basis of facts, scientific inquiry, and logical principles, independent of any logical fallacies or the intellectually limiting effects of authority, confirmation bias, cognitive bias, conventional wisdom, popular culture, prejudice, sectarianism, tradition, urban legend, and all other dogmas. Regarding religion, freethinkers hold that there is insufficient evidence to support the existence of supernatural phenomena.



A line from "Clifford's Credo" by the 19th Century British mathematician and philosopher William Kingdon Clifford perhaps best describes the premise of freethought: "It is wrong always, everywhere, and for anyone, to believe anything upon insufficient evidence."

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I think it interesting that Free Thinking would be ascociated with lack of religion.  That the two are somehow complete opposites.  That makes no sense to me.  Can you not be both?  A free thinker and have a relationship with God?  I say you can.  I am living proof of that.  What do you think, can you think freely and be "religious" (for lack of a more appropriate word)?
 
If you look around at the world, the universe, just the process of growing a baby and how intricate that is, how can one not see the hand of God touching all of it?  Where is the evidence suggesting otherwise, that he does not exist?  Personally, I find there is insufficient evidence to prove that there is no God.  Chaos never turns to order.  It is the opposite, order has a way of turning into chaos.  Fill a tube with dust and gasses and you will never re-create a big bang.  If it was possible once, why can it not be re-created?  If everything evolved from one base creature, wouldn't we all still be evovling?  If we came from apes, why are there still apes?  Why aren't they all evolving into men, where are the in betweens?  Not ape, not man?  Why would they start evolving and then stop?  That makes no sense.  You can't have a missing link, because there is no link to miss.  I belive that things change and adapt.  That makes sense, but to think and to have a belief that we all came from one original fish goo creature thing, makes absolutely no sense to me and takes a lot more blind faith to believe in than it does to see the hand of God and believe in Him.  Again, not trying to sound or be judgemental.  If that is what you believe then I hope you have really looked at it.  Pondered it, questioned it and don't just believe it because that is what you were shown to believe as a child growing up. 
 
 
Can you be a free thinker and not believe in God?  Obviously, lots of people classify themselves as such.  I think that if you are a free thinker, it means you question, you don't blindly accept the world, life, experiences at face value. You dig.  You dig to find the Truth.  I am a digger and a believer.  I don't think that they are opposites.  I think there is a lot of arrogance in thinking otherwise.  In thinking that all those who believe in something bigger than what they can touch and see are somehow blind followers.  To me, that is not free thinking it is closed minded thinking. 
 
I am interested to see what all of you have to say about this, what your take on it is.

Thursday, December 9, 2010

Sometimes I Wish....




Sometimes I wish I had a pull string.  You know the kind that toys have, you pull it and out spill the words.  I want one of those.  I want to pull the string and have the words just flow forth with ease.  Too bad God didn't install one of those when He made me.

Instead, I sit on comfy, pillow covered couch, looking at Counselor and the words get stuck somewhere in my throat.  I sit and look, wringing hands, trying to force something out of my lips.  When something finally does come out it is pittiful and small.   "Uhhm's", "Yeah's", and "I don't know's" are hardly profound and aren't very good at unraveling the tangled knot of craziness that is my mind.

There is such a disconnect between my thoughts and my voice.  If you put a keyboard under my hands I can hardly keep up with the words flowing out of my fingtertips.  Ask them to escape between parted lips and they all run and hide.  What is the deal with that?

Fortunately, my counselor is a wonderful woman.  I find her company very comforting  and I am able to get some words out.  I just wish that they would flow more freely, like they do on here, but I am trying.  I am trying and doing my best and I guess that is all I can do.

So, here is to sitting on comfy couches, covered in pillows two times a week and trying to talk without having a pull string to make the talking easy.  I am giving myself High Fives for trying though.  Baby steps are still steps after all.


*If you listen to the audio that is Toy Story in the background, thus the blog on pull strings LOL*