It Takes Time
My birthday was July 18th but I’m celebrating it with my family this Saturday. That’s because one son went on a motorcycle trip over my birthday weekend, another son went mountain biking the following week, and I went off to Michigan the week after. Tomorrow is the big day, three weeks late. It took time to get everyone’s schedules coordinated so we could ring in my 76th year (🤪) together!
My husband and I relocated across the country in March, from the beautiful Adirondacks to the stunning high desert of the Southwest. I’m pretty proud of how “settled” we are already, but we’ve decided to landscape the backyard with an enlarged courtyard, a hot tub, and a beautiful bird and butterfly garden. Right now, half the courtyard wall is non-existent (we demolished it) waiting for a new one to be built, the hot tub is sitting unused waiting for parts and a service provider, and the yard looks like a moon landing. We have a plan in place but … it takes time!
Unbearable Heaviness of Life
Many years ago, I was poor, in constant inner chaos, incapable of sustaining a loving committed relationship, and wracked by pain doing somersaults from my mind to my body and back again. I was in constant fear, of what, I do not know. Suicidal ideation was my most reliable companion. Shame had convinced me I was defective and unworthy of anything more. Somehow, I had a vision of what a healthy fulfilling life what might look like although I have no idea where that vision came from or what role model convinced my parts it was possible. The bottom line was I had no idea how to get there. I just put one foot in front of the other and slogged through the unbearable heaviness of life.
Worth the Wait
It took time — a lot of time — to calm the waters, do the work, and live into the dream my more lucid parts had created for me. Although most of the time I felt defective and incapable, occasionally I looked around and noticed I was more self-aware and resilient than other people I thought were “normal.” It didn’t take much to knock me off course again but, slowly and gradually, I held onto the reins of my life until the dream became reality. Anyone who thinks its an overnight affair to heal from the effects of chronic childhood trauma is naive and, perhaps, deluding themselves. It took me 40 years to become the person I am today — mostly integrated, largely pain-free, in a happy loving relationship, financially secure, and watching broken family members sometimes take a right turn and mend a wound. Wowee!!! What more could I want from life? I did it!
It took a lot of time — but it was worth the wait!
Wisdom that Come from Suffering
It’s sad to say that wisdom comes from suffering, but it’s true. When we embrace our suffering — with all the anger and surrender we can muster — we learn eternal truths that illuminate our path — and sometimes help others who are on the journey with us. I’m sure you have many pearls of wisdom to share with yourself and the rest of us out here in DID land. My pearl is just this — it takes time. Don’t beat yourself up for where you are right now. Don’t get impatient that you aren’t who you know you’re supposed to be right now. Don’t expect more of yourself than you can give right now.
Instead, give yourself compassion. Be patient with yourself (and the world that often lets us down). Give what you can and no more. You’ll get there. It just takes time.
Self-Care
What negative self-talk do you need to reverse and turn into positive affirmation? What frustrates you so much that you spend more time on what’s lacking than what’s present? What do you need to let go of so you can give more time to yourself and your healing?
Journal about “time” — the time you’ve lost, the time you don’t have enough of, the time that’s weighing you down. Understand that you’re on a journey, and all journey’s take time.
August Date Change!
Social Hangout will be moved from August 17th to the 24th due to a change in JJ’s schedule. We had a lot of fun last month. Join us this month 😀!
Also, please use the main, traditional zoom link for writing-in-place workshops on August 9th and 23rd. We apologize for the confusion as we navigate our growing relationship with Zoom!
Remember …
Social Hangout is August 24th!
DW Subscriptions
DW moved to a subscription-based group at the beginning of June. We invited you to use June, July, and August to submit your subscription for $10 monthly, $100 annually, or full scholarship (no questions asked). As we enter August, we want to remind you that anyone who has not subscribed by the end of this month will be removed from the workshop and activity email list (not the newsletter). If you haven’t subscribed yet but are still attending workshops, go to our Dissociative Writers website and sign up now!Group Easy Community Platform
DW has decided to move to a community platform called Group Easy that offers us a secure way to email one another, post calendar events, store organizational documents, upload and download writing submissions, and more. Sometime in the month of August, subscribers will receive an email invitation you to join Group Easy. We encourage you to take advantage of the invitation. We will offer brief tutorials at the end of each workshop to help people become comfortable with Group Easy. We hope all subscribers will sign on sometime in the month of August or September. By October, we will transition fully to Group Easy and give it a two month trial. At the end of November, we will decide if Group Easy is serving our needs or if we wish to terminate our use of their platform. We want to assure everyone that we will offer as much support, including personal tutorials if needed, to help people become comfortable with this new community opportunity!
Anthology Submissions!
DW is receiving submissions for the 2023 Anthology from DW subscribers. Please send your submission, along with the completed Submission Form and signed Permission to Publish to Gabby, no later than September 16, 2022. For more information about the anthology submissions, contact Gabby.
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The two most powerful warriors are patience and time.
~ Leo Tolstoy
Lyn