Meaning Making

Collecting thoughts and experiences that shape my worldview

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Catching Elephant is a theme by Andy Taylor

 

Keeping perspective on how small we are in relation to the universe can be so hard when we live inside of a bubble where we get constant feedback that what we are doing is exceptionally important.  Sending my husband off to war and having to be at peace with the fact that he may never come back turned out to be a great gift.  When he left for his first deployment, I made a deal with myself.  I decided that no matter what happened, I would be happy.  I decided that if he was killed, I would find a way to have successful relationships in the future, and if he came home injured, I would find a way to make meaning from the experience and help others, along with finding a way to be happy ourselves.   I was 23 when I asked my newlywed husband if he wanted to be buried in his hometown or in Arlington Cemetery if he didn’t come home.  We went over his will and the Power of Attorney.  I knew that his dad would be the one to identify his remains, but I would be responsible for the other plans and decisions.  I was worried that the worst would happen, and I wouldn’t know his wishes.  I think that was the day that I grew up.  And by grew up, I mean that I grew to see outside of myself.  My husband returned safely from 2 combat deployments and has been home for a couple of years now.  Frequently, I find myself losing perspective and obsessing over minutia now that I don’t worry about death.  I always felt my heart relax inside my chest and my mind feel peaceful when I take the time to remember how small I am and how little control I have over the world.  It’s liberating to be okay with this.

Keeping perspective on how small we are in relation to the universe can be so hard when we live inside of a bubble where we get constant feedback that what we are doing is exceptionally important.  Sending my husband off to war and having to be at peace with the fact that he may never come back turned out to be a great gift.  When he left for his first deployment, I made a deal with myself.  I decided that no matter what happened, I would be happy.  I decided that if he was killed, I would find a way to have successful relationships in the future, and if he came home injured, I would find a way to make meaning from the experience and help others, along with finding a way to be happy ourselves.  

I was 23 when I asked my newlywed husband if he wanted to be buried in his hometown or in Arlington Cemetery if he didn’t come home.  We went over his will and the Power of Attorney.  I knew that his dad would be the one to identify his remains, but I would be responsible for the other plans and decisions.  I was worried that the worst would happen, and I wouldn’t know his wishes.  I think that was the day that I grew up.  And by grew up, I mean that I grew to see outside of myself. 

My husband returned safely from 2 combat deployments and has been home for a couple of years now.  Frequently, I find myself losing perspective and obsessing over minutia now that I don’t worry about death.  I always felt my heart relax inside my chest and my mind feel peaceful when I take the time to remember how small I am and how little control I have over the world.  It’s liberating to be okay with this.

(Source: mindfulmantras)

Happiness is when… What you think, What you say, and What you do are in harmony.

-Mahatma Gandhi

Setting an intention for 2012: let your thoughts, words, and actions be aligned with who you want to be as a person.

My favorite photo of Abby, taken by Stacey Karpen.  Abby was a birthday gift from my mom when I turned 23 in September of 2006.  That May, I took a leap and jumped to Camp Lejeune, NC, where my boyfriend (now husband) was stationed with the Marine Corps.  As he prepared to leave for Iraq, we discussed getting a dog to keep me company.  He had grown up with mutts and thought being ugly gave a dog character.  My family had a Sheltie and a Pomeranian, so I believed “the fluffier, the better.”  I expressed my dismay about Mark’s desire to get an ugly dog to my mom.  And she gave us Abby in response.  Who could resist that face?  Even my husband melted over her.  Can’t imagine life without her. Best dog ever.

My favorite photo of Abby, taken by Stacey Karpen.  Abby was a birthday gift from my mom when I turned 23 in September of 2006.  That May, I took a leap and jumped to Camp Lejeune, NC, where my boyfriend (now husband) was stationed with the Marine Corps.  As he prepared to leave for Iraq, we discussed getting a dog to keep me company.  He had grown up with mutts and thought being ugly gave a dog character.  My family had a Sheltie and a Pomeranian, so I believed “the fluffier, the better.”  I expressed my dismay about Mark’s desire to get an ugly dog to my mom.  And she gave us Abby in response.  Who could resist that face?  Even my husband melted over her.  Can’t imagine life without her. Best dog ever.

Stories

Two years ago, I made a list of experiences that I wanted to record in writing. These stories shaped my worldview in some way, professionally or personally.  Now that most of my day is spent providing psychotherapy, some experiences have taken on new significance, as I understand some as developmental tasks or identity formation.  Other experiences have diminished importance due to a change in perspective. 

My high school diving coach (also a psychologist) was the first person to suggest that my tendency for procrastination is a symptom of my perfectionist tendencies, and it changed the way I see procrastination forever.  I have a vision for the ideal product, and I anticipate spending endless hours achieving it.  Therefor, starting (anything) is overwhelming.  One goal I have in starting this blog is to overcome the belief that my writing needs to be perfect.  After all, it takes practice to improve. So, this blog will serve as a first draft of experiences that are important to me and my thoughts on those stories. 

Time can make memories fuzzy, and our minds have a tendency to creatively fill in blanks when details are missing.  I recognize that some stories may be true to the feelings I had or meaning I made from the experience, but the details may not be accurate.  I’m okay with this.  My stories may not always have a punchline, a creative twist, or a lesson (yet), and I am also making myself be okay with this.  First draft, collection of thoughts and stories, no need to be perfect. Here we go.