Counseling

A Hugless Year

ponderingmissylouLeave a comment

As we are nearing the end of 2020, a year we will never forget, and cannot wait for this all to be over, we cope and keep moving forward.

The holidays are nearing but apprehension is also. Do we meet or don’t we, is the question. Do we have less people or keep it the same and take our chances, is also a question. Trying to buy food and the right amount comes into play, although the grocery store shelves may take care of that decision for us.

I do plan to have just my two sons, daughter-in-law and her parents, that is it. Normally, I would have all of my husband’s family in. While I love them, I am looking forward to a smaller crowd around my table, not tables. I normally would make part of my living room area look like a small cafe with four tables. It works and is nice but so nice not to do, too. Maybe next year. We will take food over to his elderly parents, so they are not in the midst of many. It will all work out and I think everyone understands the circumstances, even though we do not like what is happening.

The holidays are a time of laughter and for me, hugs to and from my sons, especially. I so miss them this year, more than ever. I know that my son and his wife are being very selective due to this virus. I feel my other son is also although he might be enjoying the slower pace of life. He is at the age, that he is busy and the selfish, sad side of me, thinking he is too busy for his mom. I do remember being his age and I was too busy for my parents. Perhaps that old saying, what goes around, comes around. Be Still is my motto. I know that he knows I am here, which was proven in a previous blog, So Far Away.

My oldest son was up last month to drop their dog off for me to watch. Upon arriving and leaving, NO hug. How hard this was for me while trying to keep it together as he pulled out of our driveway to go home, which was emotional. I found myself angry at this virus. I have done so well but this was just so odd to feel as though he was afraid to hug me, protecting me but I also needed to protect him. A blog is floating around in my writings, called, The Bubble.

So I am trying to prepare myself that I will probably not get hugs on Thanksgiving. I said I am trying, that is all I can do. If it was just the chance of hugging and only I would be a risk, then hug me. I will take my chances. Now that we know that nobody is exempt, no matter what age, precaution is warranted. Still, I will try to get through this but knowing I will fall apart when they leave. In that, too, I am preparing for and know that it is okay. I am a mom, moms need hugs.

If this pandemic would have been years earlier, I am unsure how I would have managed. I really don’t think as well as I have, I know so. Thank God in my counseling sessions with my former counselor, we discussed often the need I had for hugs, especially from a few mother figures in my life. While I knew I dealt with this, I never really understood why. Typical thinking of that I did not receive hugs from my mom, that is all. The yearning for the lost love was present within me.

This counselor dug deep within me to pull out the rejection, abandonment and shame, just to name a few. These sessions were not always easy to process but enough that I grasped the whys in my life. To walk in her office for help due to my marriage issues and while we did so, she then stopped and said, “Now let’s deal with you.” I will never forget that day. This was not at all what I was expecting, but she was wise enough to almost see the depths of my soul, it felt like. With no hesitation we continued and in those many, many sessions over the years, layer by layer, she peeled back my hurts. These sessions were not always pleasant.

Abandonment, a major part was exposed. Why did I not know this?To feel abandonment is cruel, almost a torment, screaming quietly, PLEASE DO NOT LEAVE ME, to deaf ears around me. As I sat across from her, so many times, I felt she heard my silent screams but making me say, Please Hug Me. This was so hard but became somewhat easier, as I learned to trust her more. Had it not been for her understanding and hugs at times, I don’t know if I would be capable of handling this year.

While she was not a motherly figure to me, as both of us being around the same age with her younger in fact, but I could project that on her at the times. Project, I believe is the right term. No matter, it was helpful, even though painful to pull up those thoughts, feelings and emotions.

So in doing so, years ago, acknowledging the whys within me of those hugs I desperately needed from many, I no longer yearn for now. It is like an escape from jail. Freedom. Don’t get me wrong, I love hugs and really miss receiving and giving, as we all do probably. Right now, it is frowned upon due to the virus. I’m okay with that, until it comes to my sons. I want to hug my sons. I need their hugs, too.

With less visits, they are busy in life, as I am also, but we are all in a different place in life, and I understand. I cannot help but feel that tug of abandonment. Abandonment, even from my own sons. I know though, I cannot linger in that place of feeling abandoned. I feel it, I acknowledge it and I release it. It throws a heavy punch in my gut but it does not stay. They both know I love them and I know they love me.

Will I hug my boys on Thanksgiving upon arriving or leaving and in between when possible? I don’t know. While my oldest is more precautious, my youngest is a hugger so this might be hard for him and I but we will get through this. Often I wonder if I ran into my former counselor in public, who said we could talk and I could have a hug, if that would even happen now. This virus is the pits. If not, I know and I know that she knows I will have to deal with the gut-punch and the emotions, but mostly that I will get back up and continue in this hugless year.

So how are you dealing with less hugs and less togetherness with friends and family this year?

🍂 Before I forget, Happy Thanksgiving to you and your family. 🍂

It’s Not About the Leaf

ponderingmissylouLeave a comment

Fall is probably my favorite season. The beauty all around with leaves changing colors on various trees with the different shades. As I was driving to work the other day, there was this one tree, it was so bright and bursting with red and yellow leaves. I was so in awe that I remember saying that it was the prettiest tree ever. Further down the road almost to work, I look over and see another tree and I say again, that is the prettiest tree ever. I laughed at myself because of this pattern that would, of course, continue. Trees are wonderful to admire and get lost in not only the beauty but pleasant thoughts that provide a break of tasks ahead or problems or issues in our lives.


My husband dislikes leaves on the grass. One tree is always late losing its leaves and I swear, he’d be happy to shake the daylights out of it to finish and be done before winter. Maybe it is me that needs to shake it (or him), to stop listening to his moans of frustration.

I found myself yesterday when arriving home from work, looking over and staring at our neighbors’s maple tree. The golden orange was so vivid as the sun was on the tree and the leaves on the ground, like a reflection. Just so pretty. Knowing full well that all these pretty leaves will need to be raked and bagged. It’s a chore but it’s a fun chore.


Growing up in the house we live in, our one-acre lot behind us is plentiful with trees, which brings a lot of leaves. My favorite memory of the back yard is when it was completely covered with the golden yellow leaves, as in our neighbor’s yard. I like to enjoy this sight for at least a few days, looking out of my kitchen window, but it never happens nowadays. I am so glad I took in that sight to remember when I did, years ago.


The leaves also tend to make it inside the house, tracked in on the shoes or perhaps fly in when the door is open. A leaf here a leaf there, no problem. It is when this leaf is just overlooked and just sits there. He has no thought of picking it up and throw outside or in the garbage. Now I am starting to dislike the leaves, as I pick it up and throw out, only to repeat often. Frustration begins to be felt within me wondering why he cannot wipe his shoes or if tracked in the house, to pick up the leaf (leaves) and do the same as me. How is this so hard? The old saying, ‘were you raised in a barn’ comes to mind.

The funny thing is, as I am babbling on with my counselor the other day of my frustration over this silly leaf and of my situation at home between him and I, she smiles and states, ‘it is not about the leaf.’ We both laughed, as she was so correct. In that moment, a blog was born.


He is a happy man with himself and not a care in the world. No desire to change but continue the same routine day after day, year after year. I will yet again hear about the tree losing its leaves late. I will continue to see green grass while I admire my neighbor’s yard with the bright leaves. Yes, it is a good thing to mulch them but just let me enjoy the beauty for a few days.


I will again and again pick up a leaf here and there in my house that was tracked in and ignored. It is not about the leaf but only my frustration with him. Let it go! It’s a losing battle.

Digging Deeper

ponderingmissylouLeave a comment

There are things in life that you may know what you want to do, from education, employment, marriage, family, etc., but also personal desires such as painting, yoga, teach a class or whatever and possibly even writing a book, which is where I am.

All through my life, even from a young girl, I made notes, kept copies of letters I sent out, always writing down book titles along with the name of the book, to jog my memory of a place and time. I did this for the reason that I might need them one day. Now why would I do that without a purpose? I have often wondered if the Lord was preparing me then for now.

Many times my notes and journals through the years kept my sanity, as I questioned myself, did this really happen. As I spoke to my counselor of various situations, I could refer back and read my writings, almost to the point of feeling very emotional, the anger to rise up and wonder how I survived those years. This was my life.

Questioning myself as I write my blog with thoughts of who would want to read my writings. I have tried different ways to write and grow in this area through the years to where I am today, writing here. Just me and sharing a part of me that majority of my friends and family do not even know. Blogs are usually short and limited information but in each one, they are a piece of a puzzle to me and for me to possibly connect with others of same or similar instances, thoughts and feelings.

Last year I made a weekend trip to my hideaway up North. Just me. I needed to make some decisions plus get out of the four walls where I feel stuck.  Unbeknownst to me, a Christian writing conference was advertised on Facebook. No mistake, I was to see this. I signed up, paid and spent many hours over the few days, taking notes and learning how to start, consider, piece all my notes together, etc. A private workshop for me.

I am one that needs organization to get my thoughts together and that is okay. Recently, I ordered a plastic storage bin for colored hanging files to departmentalize everything. The colored files were for me, the colors are pretty. I was all excited to have these items arrive so I could start immediately. Why hadn’t I thought of this early on?

Now I had everything to get started but I could not do anymore than place my colorful hanging files in the clear, plastic storage bin to admire. I have a tendency to procrastinate with one excuse after another, and I did so. The desire was there but there was a dread of digging through all of the notes and memories. Fear of going back through some dark days with depression lurking and eager to choke life out me yet again. I knew this digging would cause some emotions within me that I would rather keep stuffed down, as my former counselor would say that I did. True. I knew I would have all sorts of emotions come up but it was the anger within that scared me.

Just as in a session several weeks ago, my present counselor and I discussed a situation I faced twenty years ago maybe. I have mentioned this before in a session with my former counselor but this time, it affected me. I could not stop the tears and I had anger for days, with my husband the father of our boys, which did in fact scare me. I avoided any and all situations with him, as I was angry. This was something I needed to deal with, within me, as he could care less, not remember what happened and what good would it do really, except make me look like a crazy person. My notes, prove otherwise.

So now, I had to go dig through my notes and read about the incident that caused this emotional outburst, questioning my own mental state. Did this actually happen? Was it a movie that I perhaps viewed? No, it was in real time, in my life.  With this, now I am digging deeper in my years of old notes, filing them by years. I can only do this a bit here and there, and that was in just reading the date and maybe a glance of my notes. Enough to remember what was happening and caused a lot or turmoil within. I had to and still take breaks from this digging in order to process, sometimes days or a week or so.

To even consider a book, of course, the thoughts of who do I think I am. Nobody wants to read my book, I have nothing to say, I am a fool and you know how the negativity comes. In return, to counteract the negativity, then it is just for me and my healing. Knowing, too, there are others that can relate to my story and perhaps provide hope when there is none.

As I was taught in counseling, turn the negative thoughts around, which I am trying to do more so. Why would I have made and kept all of these notes in my possession, if not for a purpose. All through the years, my fear was of a house fire to lose it all but they are all safe today. The iCloud holds a lot of my thoughts in notes and pictures now to do the same. Technology is wonderful. Like the old saying, ‘your head is in the clouds,’ well, actually it is.

Just this past year, I was standing in church holding my hands in front of me praying, Lord put a fire in my hands of your anointing, if I am to write. Nobody knew what I prayed, as I stood there alone. Soon after, two ladies prayed for me, as I wrote in a previous blog. It was when the woman grabbed my hands and said they were like fire of the anointing. How could that not be God? 

Several months ago. I was messaging my sister and sent her a picture of my Crepe Myrtle bush I had bought with her back in late 2018 or early 2019, when visiting. I came home, planted it where I could see it from my bedroom window. After the winter months, it was just a twig. It must have died I thought and I was so disappointed. 31F53C4F-A54B-49C3-B982-0C2E84098C07

As I was messaging my sister about the twig and how I thought it was dead, I even told my husband back in April to just mow over it, it’s dead. Hopelessness. 

Here is my bush that is growing, just from that twig, in April, 2020. I am so excited and this gives me hope and joy within. It is twice as big today.

This is just like life and of our gifts and talents. We think they are nothing and dead. Not good for nothing. Give up.  BUT GOD…. I joked with her that I was going to preach the next day at church. I realized I was preaching to myself.

Even if no book comes from digging deeper in my storage of many notes through the years, perhaps the Lord just wants me to dig deeper within for healing of many hurts, pain and trauma. There is a purpose. One day I will know, but I have to trust Him. For now, I am but a twig.

 

https://writingforyourlife.com/why-does-god-want-me-to-write/