My Reality

I am convinced that we are eternal beings, and that life on this physical Earth is a kind of laboratory. It seems clear to me that the data we are collecting in our experiment is “who we are”.

I recognize so many times in my life where I saw someone make a decision, and I thought, “Oh, if I were in their shoes, I would do this instead.” Only to find that when I was faced with the same decision, if I didn’t make the same choice that I had judged as wrong, the choice I made was something I had never previously imagined before.

Early in my walk of faith, I read how the disciple, Peter, had said that even if he had to be put to death, he would never deny Jesus. Then within hours, he denied him repeatedly, and calling curses on himself as evidence. I thought “How could he?” After a few years, I began to read the shortcomings and betrayals of the people, and I began to think, “How are we so easily led off course?”

I am learning that the more I identify with my potential to behave in unimaginable ways, the more I am aware that I have to own my choices. At the same time, it develops compassion within me when I see the failings of others.

I don’t know if this thought has any kind of basis in reality, but it helps me to picture it as though my eternal self watches from the spiritual realm, in the presence of our creator. I imagine a dialogue before I was born, where my creator asked “When you look at the world, what do you see? What does the world need? What would you do if you had the opportunity?” I imagine I said, “I see the world full of people in pain and confusion, most simply trying to survive until they die. They seem to need to know that the physical life is not all that there is. They need to know beyond belief that they are worthy of love, and that they have love to share with others. I am willing to go into the physical realm of pain and confusion, and share the love that I know here. I will be an example and a cultivator of love in the world.” So I was born. And by the time I had the ability to do anything for myself, much less anyone else in the world, I was struggling to simply survive.

As the years went on, I sensed glimpses of longing for that belief that I was worthy of love, and the desire to share it with the world.

Now, at 51 years old, I have been clearing out loads of clutter from my path, and I am seeing this vision becoming clear to me. This is how I hope to live before I die.



The Melt

Looking again at my posts from September, I see that I had something of a meltdown. I had just lost a primary support in my life. My Life Coach and I parted ways, and I had a number of open wounds that I didn’t have anyone else to help me with them. I was in a mad scramble to find some support.

I haven’t found anyone to fill that vacancy, so I have had to learn to navigate my biggest challenges and pains with little outside help.

It has taught me clearly that I am the only one responsible for my life and my needs. If I were asked three months ago how well I believed I could handle what I was going through on my own, I would have said that I don’t believe I have the resources or skills.

Necessity turned me into what I needed. First, when I was left without shielding from the heat, I melted down. I fell away from my challenges enough to regroup, and set a new course. I am being remolded and tempered to do the work that I was previously unequipped for. I am being transformed to meet the need.

So many times in my life, I wished I had a helper, but my helpers have always been short lived. They come for a season, then disappear, particularly when I acknowledge that I believe I need them in my life.

I am thankful for those brief seasons that someone has ventured to walk with me and lend support. It has helped me out of some very sticky situations and over some daunting obstacles.

Perfectly Imperfect Workshop

I have been looking for a place to get together with people who want to support each other in personal development. I imagine it would be a place to learn and practice all the things I wish I had learned in school, or as a youth. I have been learning so much over the last year (now that I’m 50, it feels like I had wasted so much time.)

I want to find a community of people to share their experience and challenges with things like – self-compassion, boundaries, attachment, meaningful connection, personal responsibility, etc.

I have found a few small groups that touch on small, focused aspects like this, but nothing that really supports developing a fulfilling life.

I think I am going to have to create the space myself. I might call it the Perfectly Imperfect Workshop. I would hope it would be a magnet for people to gather and be as authentic as they could stand to be, then grow their authentic selves.

Reach Out

The last couple posts have been a struggling attempt to reach out for support.

I have recently lost a primary support, and I don’t have adequate backup.

The pain is intense, and I am not handling it well. I realize this approach is not likely to have a beneficial outcome, but this is where I go when my next best supports tell me that I should just be angry, while that is not what I am feeling.


Vulnerability can be a fantastic path to healing and development, unless there is nobody able and willing to sit with you and say “I know that what you are going through is tough and miserable, but I am here with you, just to listen and be a support.” Without that, it’s like having a broken leg, torn through the skin, exposed to every bump and infection.

I was hoping this blog would help me connect with one, if not many, who are able and willing to sit with me and heal. Instead, it feels like an audience watching a freak show, waiting to see what absurdity will come out next.


I started this blog to connect with others, hopefully through circumstances that had some similarities to those of other people, but also hoping that where my circumstances were unfamiliar, a dialogue would open up.

I have made myself vulnerable here, and yet have not been able to inspire connection. This feels more alone than my hiding place.

Do the things I share make you feel uncomfortable? Is it more work to share what you feel about what is written than it is worth?

Anyway, life goes on.


I recently came across a psychological model that makes a lot of sense to me. It is called The Adult Chair, by Michelle Chalfant. The podcast can be found at (or will redirect to that site.) It has shown me straight forward solutions to things I hadn’t been able to understand, like why I continued to feel like a child in an adult body, and what drives the voice deep within me to flee from what would seem like reasonable risk.

As I explored my automatic reactions to circumstances, I noticed that a great many cautions were attached to a desire to have my natural father back in my life. The last time I saw him was when I was 4 years old. I was standing in the driveway with him, and I remember clearly that he told me “Always do the right thing, and always tell the truth.” He also said something to the effect that I should obey Scott (who became my adoptive Dad), as I would him. I’m not sure what he said that caused me to believe that if we did well enough, we would be together again. I established that as my sole mission in life – to do well enough at always doing the right thing, and always telling the truth, under Scott’s authority, to get my father back.

With those parameters firmly in my 4 year mind, instructions became law and the rules became more and more complex to try to accomplish. By the time I realized I couldn’t figure out how to do well enough, I had erroneously received the message that it wasn’t okay to disturb others with my concerns, that I had to take responsibility for myself.

I pressed on, doing my best, day by day, year by year, always seeing that I was not capable of fulfilling my responsibility. I lost track of why I was trying so hard, and feeling so bad about failing. As I grew more and more ashamed of who I was, and my inadequacy, I had to create a bigger barrier between my shortcomings and the image of who I thought I needed to be. The more I concealed behind the wall, the more I became afraid of letting anyone know me.

After learning self-compassion freed me from despising my ability to fit the false image, I learned to love my faults, along with the noble character I had worked toward.

Recently, a counselor asked me to share some of the challenges of my childhood. After I gathered them together, recognizing I hadn’t felt acceptable to ask for help, I thought “That was one tough kid!”

The next day, doing some inner child work, I told “little Eric” that I wanted him to have a nickname that could expresses how courageous and strong he is. I heard “Leo”. I thought that was perfect. Leo had been the name of our giant stuffed lion that I had since I was 5. He was a best friend to me. I told him everything. He helped me through countless challenges. He gave the best advice. He was wise and courageous.

Then I recognized that the problem with Leo was that he had the same rules, restraints and knowledge that I had. He could only help me to do the best I could with what I had. He couldn’t give me another perspective. He was a reflection of me. What I recognized next encouraged the snot out of me – everything I had ever admired in Leo came from me. How could I ever deny myself acceptance again?

Most importantly to me, I recognized that my foundational belief, that I needed to become good enough to be worthy of my father’s love, was false. I was released from chains I had put on myself, thinking they would give me what I wanted in life.

Today I am a beautiful mess, fully worthy of love and every good thing. I am celebrating more of my shortcomings each day. I am tearing down the walls and allowing people to see me, just as I am. It is very un-appealing to many, and that’s okay. The most valuable people in my life have always cherished what I tried so hard to hide. Now I get to embrace their love instead of shielding from the pain of disappointment. I even get to be open to other perspectives, that didn’t fit with my distorted mission.

I was thinking about a closing statement, but I think I’ll just leave it open…