N is for Numbers: The Five Love Languages and The Four Agreements

I couldn't choose between the three books I had listed for F so I figured out a way to use them all!

I'm a list maker. I like outlines and guidelines. These two books appealed to me, and provided me with guidance and support, because they are in a format I enjoy.

The Four Agreements is another of the books I buy when I encounter a used copy, to pass on later to someone in need. This book provides a brief, concise plan for living a true, honest life. These are four complicated concepts summarized in simple language which helps it sink it.

"Don't take anything personally" is one of the greatest pieces of advice I've ever received, from a counselor several years ago.  It took me a while to wrap my brain around the concept, but once I did it blew the doors off my perceptions of the world. Reading The Four Agreements helped drive the idea home. Combined with the other three Agreements: Be Impeccable With Your Word, Don't Make Assumptions, and Always Do Your Best, this little book provides a code of conduct that makes sense and helps you to feel good about the way you're living.

 The 5 Love Languages had been suggested to me several times before I finally got around to buying a copy. I was suspicious of a "secret to love that lasts."

"It's up front with the best sellers," directed the sullen clerk at Barnes & Noble, with a non-verbal Duh. "Everybody has read this book," he added, presumably to make it quite clear to me that I was behind the times.

That clerk was right, I definitely wish I had read this book sooner! It clicked with me immediately and my then boyfriend, now husband read it as well. We both took the quiz in the back and compared our answers. I can't say this automatically solved all over our "issues" and assured us every lasting love. However, I can say without a doubt that this book was an important tool in the process of us
healing from said "issues," understanding each other better, and communicating clearly.

Yes, this book and quiz has helped me better understand my partner, but almost more importantly, I learned my own love languages. This book gave me permission to acknowledge that I am a physical person. It helped me understand it's okay for me to crave physical affection (romantic and non) and that having a sexual nature isn't a negative thing itself, but the ways that I handle it which can be.



Both of these books have played crucial roles in improving my quality of life. They are part of my library which I refer to in times of need.

The Fourth Hand by John Irving

Image from Pinterest

I've read, and loved, several John Irving novels. They aren't easy reads and the subject matter is often heavy (incest, infidelity, physical deformity.) I've found I can't fully appreciate an Irving novel until I've completely finished it and taken a few days to process the whole thing.

I don't want to give away too much because I want you to read this book, but I do want to give you a brief summary: A man loses one of his hands in an accident and when he receives a hand transplant, a relationship develops between him and the donor's wife. No room for weirdness or heavy subject matter there, right? Ha!

In typical Irving fashion, this story is bizarre and made me uncomfortable at times. It has stuck with me more than the rest of his, though I'm not totally sure why. The story is an investigation into the power of grief, love, and all the "What ifs" we ask when facing tragedy.

What I love about Irving's characters is the same thing that can make his novels tough to get through. His characters often make choices that have me slapping a palm to my forehead. However, the fact that they make questionable choices, makes them more realistic than people in most novels. There isn't always a happy ending or redemption. Sometimes the characters badly suffer the consequences of their actions, even when they had good intentions. I liked the characters in this book a great deal, even when they weren't always likable per se.

Even though this story seemed impossible, it still felt believable. I could understand why things happened the way they did. This is what makes me fall in love with a novel, and John Irving has mastered the skill.

Feeling All The Feels Is Hard Work

I went to a church service yesterday to see my husband sing. During the prayer at the end of her sermon, the Pastor referred to four victims of two separate tragic crimes which occurred in our town last week. I was tearing up as we said Amen. My husband's solo was immediately afterward and then the congregation sang Amazing Grace. Talk about a triple whammy. I couldn’t stop crying.

I couldn’t sing. I couldn’t look at anyone. All I could do was cry. And feel. All the feelings at once: proud of my husband, grateful for him and our marriage, love for his family who was there, and for my family that is far away, grief for the crime victims, grief for losses in our family, for friends fighting cancer. Each feeling was connected to the next until they became one giant pulsing emotion.

After the service, my husband received several compliments on his solo. “You brought your wife to tears,” commented one white haired lady with a smile. My sweet husband smiled and rubbed my arm. He knew the truth.

I don’t know the victims of the homicides in our town. That doesn’t make the violence any less senseless, the losses any less tragic and horrific. I think of their grieving families and my heart breaks.

 

At home, my husband came downstairs after changing out of his suit to find me lying on the couch weeping again. He came over to comfort me but didn’t speak. “You know what’s weird?” I sniffed, “Right now, I’m crying because I’m so grateful that everyone I love is alive.” 

He sat with me for a while, then left to make us some tea. I got down on the floor with my dog Charlie. He’s a very emotionally intelligent creature. (I have a friend who refers to him as a Buddha.) I curled up beside him and he touched his nose to the top of my head and we stayed this way for a while. I called to my husband to come and take this photo because this was real. This is what it looks like to be a sensitive, emotional human being who gets overwhelmed by feeling and thinking and loving. Sometimes I just can’t move. 

My husband is a sensitive empathic soul as well. He says “It’s a blessing and a curse.” I don’t necessarily think it’s ever a curse but it isn’t always easy or fun. 

Friends who read my blog and Facebook posts often compliment me on my positivity and gratitude practice. I appreciate that people notice. That’s the upside. I usually don’t discuss the flipside, but I feel called to talk about it today.  

As one of my favorite writers/self-help Gurus, Glenn Doyle Melton says, “Life is hard—not because we’re doing it wrong, just because it’s hard.”

When we live fully, when we love fully, when we appreciate life as much as we can, life is difficult. That shit hurts. When we drift through our days without looking around or being passionate about things, it can be easier. I can’t tell you how many times in my life I’ve thrown up my head back and wailed “Why do I have to care so much?" knowing that if I cared less, I'd hurt less.

The thing is if I didn’t care so much, I wouldn’t be me. If I didn’t check cardboard boxes along the road to make sure there aren’t kitten inside, if I didn’t weep when I read the last Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants book, then I also wouldn’t connect with the performers I work with or be in tune with my pets’ health. It’s all the same muscle. Is it my brain or my heart or my soul? Or a combination of the three? I have no idea but it’s real. 

I know I'm not the only soul like myself out there. We're trained from a young age to be ashamed of our emotional selves and hide them. So what do you do when the feelings get to be too much?

Does This Blog Post Make Me Look Fat?

My friend Amber is participating in a 365 Grateful Project this year. Each day, she posts a photo to her social media of someone/thing she is grateful for that day and a little blurb about the person/thing. As we hung out one evening, she asked if she could take my photo for that day’s post. I was honored.

When I got home and logged on to Facebook, her post popped up right away. The first thing I thought was Oh God, I look so fat.

 

Here’s what she wrote: “1/14/16 - Ramona - I am so happy to have this woman as part of my tribe. She is fierce and strong and sensitive and kind. She has taught me so much in the past couple years of friendship.” That’s incredible. You wish someone would write that about you on Social Media, right? It’s wonderful. But before I could let in sink in how kind and true her words were, I sat there berating myself for a fat face, bad haircut and wide body. 

Would I ever say anything like that to one of my friends? Never. I don’t think I’d even talk like that to someone I dislike. So why do I do it to myself?

I could list all the reasons I’ve gained weight since I've retired from roller derby. Some are valid reasons, some are excuses, but I’m not going there. I’m working on accepting that yes, my body is different than it was two years ago. It’s not good or bad, it's different. It simply is. 

The thing is, I know my body is amazing. This body of mine has played roller derby, given and taken hard hits, run races, hiked to mountain peaks, skied down mountain faces. It walks my dogs every day. This body has worked many long hours on tired feet. My body has danced, laughed, cried, taken lovers. This body has hugged some of my favorite people in the whole world. My body has healed from severe illness and injury, miraculously recovered from hangovers and migraines. It displays my beautiful tattoos, houses my soul. 

All of those things are astounding. They require strength, compassion, perseverance. Why is it so difficult to remember that my body is me? It's not a separate entity to be fought against.

Now, I want to go back to Amber’s 365 Grateful post because do you see what I did? I made it about me when it isn’t at all. 

So what's the post about if not its subject? Is it about Amber? Not really. Each post is about love and connection. Most of her photos are of people and in every single one of them, that person has a big smile and is obviously feeling loved.

With each post, Amber is giving love, showing appreciation, putting it out into The Universe without asking for anything in return. Maybe the least I can do is accept that graciously. Instead of disliking my photo, I try to look at it and see what she sees.

There's a gap between perception and reality. Sometimes it's bigger than others. The way I see myself is not the way others view me but what is true?

My sweet friend has inspired me so much with her posts, and I plan to start my own 365 Grateful Project on February 1st!