Actions Speak Louder Than Words

I have found that there is a theme cropping up in my life as of late. Words, actions and congruency. We have all heard the old adage, actions speak louder than words...but do they? I think I may come from a unique place here, but here goes.

Words are what we say, what we speak and they can bring death and life. Many people will say what they say marks who they are. It's a true testament of their character. They don't lie so what they say is true to who they are. So don't necessarily focus on what they do per se. For instance, the one who says that they love you but don't necessarily go out of their way to "show" it. You should know after all, for they will keep telling you.

Then there are those who go the other way and never speak the words but tell you to determine their love for you but what they do. Maybe they shower you in gifts, maybe they are constantly doing you chores for you. And they maintain that you should know they love you based on what they do.

But as far as I can see it there are problems with both of those scenarios. We ALL are guilty of saying things we don't mean. So if we are to take the word person and determine their love by their words we are in trouble. There is life and death in the power of the tongue. So what happens when there is a fight and the two of you start getting nasty with your words...then what? Which words do you listen to? The ones where they said they loved you? Or the ones during the fight where the hurt you? We all know it takes 10 positive things to erase one negative. So ten positive statements to erase one negative said in a fight. Talk about confusing messages.

Actions speak louder than words. So the person who "does" things for you but never tells you what you mean to them. How is one to rest in that? And to go one further what if their words and actions are in opposition? How do you reconcile between these two? For a hypervigilant person such as myself, actions as a gauge don't work. Why? Well because my life consisted of monitoring every action of every individual in order to determine my safety. So, and run with me here, what if my dad was one of the "action" people but he had had a hard day at work and then got into a bad traffic snarl? He know comes home and he's in a bad mood, walks through the front door, slams the door and throws his briefcase on his desk, slamming doors where ever he goes in the house. So I run up to give him a hug cuz he's home and I get pushed away. Well that action shows he doesn't love me and yet his actions are actually more indicative of his day than me. But he tells me he loves me.

So problems in both scenarios. As far as I can figure it, what needs to happen is congruency. Congruency between words and actions. If you say you love me, treat me as such. Show me as well as tell me. Congruency speaks to character, it speaks to integrity as a person. When we can align what we say with what we do, it is a testament on who we are. I recall someone I know who maintains that they are empathetic, compassionate, full of grace and mercy for people. And yet, they are full of anger, hatred, resentment and bitterness. I recall instances when the minute they felt an unjustice was done, to them or people close to them they turn into vile and poison spewing individuals. But then where is the grace and compassion and mercy that they will swear to you is WHO they are? Which are you to believe?

I think of someone else I know. Claims he loves this girl and always will. Yet none of his actions indicate such. He acts on impulses and then if caught comes up with some lameo excuse. He never makes her his priority. Lots of empty promises. How is this poor girlfriend of mine to believe that he does in fact love her.

Congruency is key. It speaks to who we are, it demonstrates our character and integrity and when we live in it brings untold amounts of peace!

An update on Jeff

So since the mail strike, our mail has been arriving far later in the afternoon. And today it arrived about 5 minutes ago. Upon seeing what came in the mail, it didn't take me long to make the necessary phone calls, one followed by another as I had to phone back considering I had forgotten some pertinent information. But before I get into all that, I am asking you to take a look. Take a look at this:

Stare into those eyes, look at that beaming face and smile and tell me that this kid does NOT deserve the best.

I have mentioned and alluded to this before, Jeff has had a rough life. The latest being the assualt on his person and attempted robbery. Well the police had done their investigation and along with Jeffrey's medical records forwarded the Crown Council. Now that was before the mail strike and I have not heard anything since. I wondered if they were going to do nothing and I thought about phoning to see but one thing got in front of another.

And then the mail arrived. In the mail was a letter for Jeff from Crown Council. Well Jeff is on holidays so I opened it there was a letter to Jeff. The accused is headed to court tomorrow and they want a victim impact statement as this will be taken into account upon sentencing.

Finally son has justice! Finally for this (previous trauma) he will be able to retain a sense of justice that that right was done because he stood up for right!

Praise God, my son gets closure!

Stanley Cup, Riots and Restoration

It's been a big year for us Canucks fans. In fact, big doesn't describe it. After '94, many of us didn't think we would ever see this day again. And the Canucks run and the Vancouver Spirit and Pride was reminiscent of the 2010 Olympics. And it would have been amazing. Winning the gold medal and then the Stanley Cup! And not one Vancouverite doubted that Lord Stanley's Cup would be finally making its way home...back to where it belonged. Such high hopes we had1 Such dreams we dreamt! And such pride and spirit we held for our much loved Vancouver.

And then the Bruins scored, not once, not twice, not thrice but four times. And our hearts sank. Our dreams for this year died and we wept. We wept individually and we wept as a city. I wept for my Grandfather. For you see, he was a Canuck and he would have LOVED to have been witness to this extraordinary year. But, my Grandfather passed away two years ago and was not here to witness our amazing, heart pounding and stopping, Vancouver rallying journey. So we wept. Some individually and all as a nation. I, wept both for my Grandfather, sad that he missed this year, thrilled that he was not here to witness the evil of some who claim to be our own.

And then the unthinkable happened. Riots, worse than '94 broke out. Now a day later, it has come to light that these riots were planned. It was not a by-product of a heartbroken city. It was a planned terrorist attack on our city, by it's very own! Many of us sat at home and watched the horror unfold before our eyes on our tv sets. Much like 9/11. Many of us were there. But ALL of us were horror stricken and outraged. Many innocents were beat, stabbed, bit and bruised. Our beloved fellow Vancouverites. All for the sick pleasure of some home grown terrorists.

This morning, our horror had not abated. But this morning the TRUE red and white spirit of our city came alive. For you see, today, we took and funnelled our anger in a movement to reclaim and restore our city and re-establishh our spirit. Today we came together, ignorant of the color of our skin and stood side by side to wipe clean the remnants of the terrorists. Today, rather than seeking revenge, we stood together and reclaimed what is ours.

And we have moved forces to capture those terrorists. Thanks to technology, many people took pictures. And many people posted statuses on their facebook. And again, we stood arm in arm and remained vigilant and forwarded all our pictures, and all the facebook statuses we could to the Vancouver Police Department so that we could do everything to ensure that justice is served.

Yesterday, we thought our dream had died. In my humble opinion, today our dream came alive. For you see, as much as I longed for and yearned for the Cup to come home, the Cup is not really a true symbol of who we are. The Cup is not the real dream. The real dream occurred today in Vancouver's streets among brooms, dust pans, rubber gloves and rags. Today the dream came to life as we as a city fought to protect, preserve, reclaim and restore what some thought they could steal from us. But you see, this dream cannot be stolen. For this dream involves mankind loving on and caring for one another. This dream is not about a Cup, it's about who we are as a people and what we stand for. This dream came alive. And this dream will always live on. It will always come alive when hope seems lowest. Because this dream is intangible and cannot be killed. This dream cannot die. And today, this dream LIVED!

Because I Can Can

Port Coquitlam celebrates May Day every year. I have blogged about it before. Well, this year, as others, me and the kids attended. My kids were involved in the parade and their school was running a carnival that I was in charge of. So as other years, this year I was there. The school carnival was located behind the band stand where all the entertainment was. And it was there, for the second time, that I saw the CanCan Dancers. When I first saw them, I longed to join them but for whatever reason was inhibited and did not approach them. This year I did. And so here I am,, an official Golden Spike CanCan Dancer!

So this past Saturday, we were in the Hyack Festival Parade in New Westminster. I am scheduled to also dance at Golden Spike Days as well as the PNE. I do believe that there is one more that I am scheduled to be at, but it is escaping me at the moment. So far I am having a ton of fun! I'm picking up the dances right quick and thoroughly enjoying what I am doing!

Things I have learned

It's been five years since my split. And I have learned many things along the way. One thing that I have learned, that I will never get used to, rather tolerate, is aloneness. As a single parent, unless you have a good relationship with your ex, you do it alone. You do all the "kid" things alone. The recitals, the school plays, all of it......alone. No other parent to sit and share joys with. And I would almost say, that that is the hardest part of this. Learning how to be alone in things that two parents should be sharing.

Take for instance, my weekend. My kids had dance competitions. And I did them alone. I drove them to the island....alone. I drove to the competitions....alone. I set up the tent....alone. I got them ready....alone. I warmed them up....alone. I watched them....alone. I celebrated with them.....alone. I wiped away the tears.....alone. I sat while they were off with friends.....alone. I tried to look busy.....alone. I tore the tent down and packed up.....alone. And then back where we were staying, I tucked them into bed and cuddled them......alone.

Alone is hard. You have to like yourself to be alone this much. And oftentimes, alone is when my demons get me. When my mind ruminates on themes, often negative themes. Trying to figure things out. Second guessing myself. Trying to figure out what when wrong and why. And then I find my mood and my spirits plummet as I try to make sense of things that may never make sense.

It's hard to be alone. It's hard to stem the battle of my mind. It's hard to not ruminate. It's simply just hard.......

Weeds or Gems?

I was out contemplating and pondering and I tend to do most frequently and I noticed a few things. The first being that I long for beauty. I crave it. My soul is thirsty for it. I seek it out. As a result, I seem to see it where perhaps not many do.

The most prevalent place that I am seeing beauty right now is in the backyard. Let me explain. I love flowers. I love how they look, I love their colors, I love their fragrances. BUT....I won't grow them. Why? Well one simple reason really. I'm terrified....to the point of phobia. For you see, when I was a little girl, my brother used to throw worms and snakes at me. As a result, I am terrified. And oh how I have tried. I have gardened and the minute I see a worm, the panic completely overwhelms me and I get nauseous and anxious and feel like I am about to toss my cookies. I have tried with gloves. I have tried to brave my way through it. The result? I run into the house. So I gave up. But I still love flowers.

And perhaps that impacts, I am not sure. What I do know is that I am appreciating the "flowers" that weeds grow. The dandelions, the buttercups and a few I have seen that I don't know the name of.

And that has made me think. Could we....are we capable of overlooking the "weed" portion of things and instead focus on the beauty of the flower? What if we could? What if we could change how we view things and instead of seeing the weeds, look instead to the beauty that lies within.

What would happen? Would it change how we see things? Would it change our perspectives, our thoughts, our outlook?

Trauma and its Extremes

Lately, I have been doing a ton of thinking about a ton of things. One that returns periodically in my mind is the subject of trauma and its effect that it has one people. We all know the typical PTSD type of things that prolonged trauma can cause: hypervigilance, a sense of foreshortened future, recurring dreams and flashbacks etc etc but one thing that I have noticed is that trauma causes extremes.

Think for a minute about trauma: when a person lives in continuous trauma it causes them to live in extremes. Extreme feelings, extreme reactions and extreme thinking. So much so that some simply cannot live in a sense of calm. Once the trauma abates, they don't know how to function so they may cause chaos and crisis because that's the only place they are comfortable.

Another way this manifests is in extremes. And I think this is just another outlet that occurs in place of chaos creation. Take me for instance. I lived in huge trauma as a child. And as a result I need things in my life to be extreme. Take my showers for instance. They are HOT HOT HOT. Hotter than most people can tolerate.

And touch. I know a lot of people that love to have a soft touch, maybe a gentle massage or the like but for me that drives me absolutely insane. If someone were to rub my arm, I NEED it to be with a good strong amount of firmness. If it isn't firm, if it is too gentle, then it drives me mental, almost to the point of hurting. I can't deal with it. It makes me antsy.

Another way I have noticed it is with exercise. In therapy, exercise is recommended as a way to combat depression. It releases endorphins and seratonin which is your "happy hormone." This then causes a lift in mood. So, as therapists, we recommend daily walks or hitting the gym for a half hour. And yet for me that doesn't work. For me, only exercise in the extreme causes a lift in mood. So for me, that means intense exercise for anywhere from 60-90 minutes. Then and only then, can I notice a life in mood.

Those are only a few examples that I have randomly noticed. If pressed I could likely come up with some more. So it made me wonder as to the extremes that trauma causes in people and how it impacts our preferences in things. I know for myself, I need things in extremes in order for it to register....