One Wee Spark

Borrowed from thewatershed.com As a child growing up in the emotional and environmental chaos that is a hoarded home, I believed that somehow my desire to change or help my mother find her own change was enough. Psychologists call it magical thinking, and it occurs for all children to differing degrees. Magical thinking is the belief that a child has that somehow their actions initiate or stop other actions that are independent of their actual abilities.  But many children grow up to become broken, hurt adults (as I am and continue to overcome) that have not been able to identify how their magical thinking is simply that... M  A  G  I  C  A  L.

[Credit is due to my dear friend TLH for the word picture contained herein. It's all my writing, but I owe her for the visual that helped me find "my way" so to speak!] Have you ever been on a road trip in a city that you were not familiar with, and although relying heavily on your trusty GPS when you realize that you've made a turn just seconds before the GPS dialogue begins, "Recalculating...?" Honestly, I find that female voice slightly condescending as she points out what I've already realized. Duh! I know! And yet, twenty minutes later, that same female voice warns me to bear left when the freeway forks ahead. That voice is calm and soothing when it guides me, welcoming and reassuring.

It's been a while since I've posted on here...but I felt like today, I should share this thing I'm in the middle of. It's not a bad thing, per se...but it involves perhaps one of the toughest elements of change--embracing a new perspective about oneself. In other words, I am embracing "the real Ceci G", and becoming comfortable with who she is, further defining what I am not, and looking more realistically at what I can become. It's as if, in some ways, I'm looking at the whole world in a new perspective simply by looking more honestly at me.

Warning--this is a very LONG post. Just a heads up.  For almost two and a half years now, I have set out each day to make my life one worth living, not by changing who I am, but instead by learning to love the real me and to give up on the "ideal" me. I'm never going to be that person. It's like Sheryl Crow said: It's not about getting what you want It's about wanting what you got I've spent so much time and effort at this. And yet today, for some inexplicable reason, the weight of codependency has fallen heavy on me.

It's drives my husband crazy when we go to bed, but I find the sound of a ticking clock very comforting and relaxing. Perhaps it reminds me of my mother's heartbeat in utero? I don't know. It just is what it is.

"White lies" became a regular and normal part of my childhood. I've heard others tell stories about the elaborate tales of renovation that were built and concocted to keep friends and family away from the family home, the hoard. I was never that creative. I would say something along the lines of the house being a mess, believing that no one would truly suspect the truth--the house was a MESS! It hit me recently that I still have trouble telling the truth in situations where it really doesn't make a difference whether I tell the truth or not. It disturbs me to think that telling a half-truth or painting a beautiful deception is not only easy for me, but that my moral compass does not readily stop me from doing it. Borrowed from Mark Pocan, WI representative, personal blog For instance, I have told a lie about my abilities in gymnastics and tumbling since I was a small child. I'm not sure how the lie first reared its ugly head, but like a zit that is touched...

More than an extra Borrowed from "Asphyxia" on Squidoo dot com For most of my life, I've lived as though I were simply an extra in the film of life. I showed up, I did my part, but I didn't make any decisions, I didn't have a voice of my own, and I sure didn't take (or get) any credit for my role. This is the fate that growing up in a dysfunctional home handed me. For a while. No matter what background I come from, I hold a powerful tool in my hands. It's called choice.

Today, I'm preparing to meet with a member of the local news station to share my personal story of recovery. A friend encouraged me to reach out more to the media to help promote the local group. At first, I balked at the idea. I was afraid the focus would become me, and not the group. I decided to reach out to the local press anyways.

Something I've struggled with for just about as long as I can remember is an ability to dream and plan. For most of my adult life, if you asked me where I wanted to be, what I wanted to achieve in the next five years, I'd look at you with a blank stare. Who me? Borrowed from YourSoulGuidance dot com I have no idea!