Validating Becomes Valid

How many times has a friend or someone come to us and told us in whatever tone what is going on in their own life...usually bad stuff? 

As the world turns, people hurt, stuff breaks, we break, we receive the wounds others attempt to give us, they achieve, and on it goes.  And the need for mankind to release their own pain in words is relevant, aye?  Listening ears, the release, the real human emotion that goes with this process, it is so needed. 

Well, I broke down yesterday afternoon.  Blame it on the rain, blame it on a whole host of things going wrong right now.  Blame it on whatever.  I cried and cried and cried and felt as if I could not go on another minute.  I went to bed and stayed there, but before that happened my kids, all of my kids, did something so amazing.  Yeah, they are pretty amazing.  Shut up critics in my head, yeah, shut the heck up that would try to convince me otherwise.  Yeah, they're in there yelling, those dang critics, in my head almost daily. 

So, in the midst of my horrid boo hooing, these precious ones overwhelmed me inside a cloud of validation.  How did they know how to do that?  I think kids know how to validate honest emotion, hardship and feelings absolutely more than anyone, well, until someone teaches or hurts them out of their innocence and ability to validate.  It's a gift from God methinks.

"Mom, can I help you?"  "Mom, you and dad need to go on a date.  I'll make dinner and you can go be with dad alone and talk."  "Oh, mom, don't cry.  I'll make it better."

And on and on they went.  And the validating words went on and on, mercifully and I just was in awe and I felt loved so well. 

There is time for truth and maybe I was overreacting yesterday and needed a big whack of truth, like snap out of it lady, but my kids didn't jar or hammer me with truth in my moment of weakness.  You think they would say snap out of it, mom, like so many others would say.  They know me better than anyone on earth...they know my crap and they can smell rats from ten miles away.  They know when I need to knock it off.  But they didn't do it, make me feel as if...yeah, as if. 

I hate it when others and I hate it when I have done it...glossing over someone's pain, there is a release, and we go on a diatribe of invalidation, attempting to undo the pain in seconds what took days, months, years or even decades to create.  Fixing, really unfixing, things by making someone feel as if it's not that bad or that these feelings are useless is really unhelpful.

Validation is one of the most loving gifts you can allow yourself to give to others.  Love grows cold without it.  

Writer's Blog

What is it with blogs?  Everyone I have ever started I have abandoned.  I really had a good start with this one and now I don't know.  I know whine, whine.  Life gets busy or my real intention for being completely transparent has been lost here somehow and that irritates the mess out of me.  I want to help people the best way I know how by sharing my failures, by letting them see past the shadow of a smiling woman who is dying on the inside in some ways and totally shaped by religion...bad, not-good-for-you religion, shaped by the past.  I guess that is not what I have totally ended up doing here, but I want to get back to authenticity.  And then on the other hand it's hard to be completely authentic when you don't know who your authentic self is.  You think I would have figured it out by now at the age of 35.  Maybe many people don't figure this stuff out until later in life.  Yeah, I guess.  Or we just spend our lives trying to be someone else, fill the shoes of someone we don't know or want to be or were never meant to be.  Huh.  Thoughts.  There is also that aspect of hiding your true self from others because it might somehow be appalling.  And why?  Well... 

So here I am at three-thirty in the morning, six months pregnant, the other six in the house snoozing, and I'm wondering.  I was sitting in my favorite chair that doesn't match the rest of my living and staring at the television.  It wasn't on, but I was staring, in the dark and thinking.  There are a couple of games shoved underneath the t.v. and one ironically read, The Game of Life.  Wow, is life really a game I thought.  Maybe it is, I thought.  What if it was all just a game?  Just a random set of cold dice in which we roll and take our chances or is most of life one big, long session, phasing in and out of real intentional choice.  Do we decide to wake up?  Do we decide to love?  Do we decide to roll up our sleeves and deal with the crap we've been dealt with courage?  Do we decide to forgive?  Do we make choices on all levels every day?  Yeah, mostly I think.  Some of life is oddly coincidental or in-coincidental.  Stuff happens miraculously and without your help and that's good to know.  Like the mechanic who forgot to put my motor fan back in after he changed out the water pump.  I drove around town like a champ wondering why my car kept over heating and then finally blew up in clouds of steam.  Well, the mechanic towed and fixed almost every broken thing in my car.  He even fixed my broken AC at no charge.  Talk about miraculous.  And in this Floridian heat that is doubly miraculously.  And for me lately, for something to go right is triply miraculous. 

Some things are just that.  But really and mostly I have to steer my life down the path that it should go and there is a lot I want to accomplish in this life.  I received a huge boost of confidence in my mind as I heard a guy on the radio talk about how it is never too late to accomplish your goals.  He gave examples of famous artists who painted most of their best works after the age of 100.  He talked about Colonel Sanders who began KFC chains and how it all began when he was a mere, sprightly 67 years old.  I thought, really?  Wow. 

I want to write and there hasn't been time or I didn't intentionally carve out time for this love of mine.  I'd like to write books about a myriad of topics, real topics.  I would like to find solutions to so many problems in this world and offer them up for others.  I guess it's not too late for my writer's block to hit the road, is it? 

Well, now, it's never too late to do anything.