Comfort Clothing

This morning one of my co-workers walked over to me and said, "Listen, I have this book that a friend gave to me and it really served me well when I was down and wanted to be curled up on the couch in my jammies all the time. Now, since I'm not the spiritual type, I thought it would serve you well for a while." Wasn't that sweet? It's a shame to have to mention this, but I am so surprised when women are loving to each other. (Another post...I'll try to resist my urge to follow that tangent.) The book...it's called Simple Abundance: A Daybook of Comfort and Joy by Sarah Ban Breathnach. I'll get back to the book in a sec.

I am touched that she noticed how down I was yesterday. I really wanted to be on my sofa, in my jammies, shoving chocolated down my throat, watching reality tv, writing in a brand new journal I had spent WAY too much money on. (I told you I've got escapism down to a science.) I haven't actually bought the journal (though journaling would be the one healthy option out of this list) but I do fantasize about spending money on a fabulous one, often.

Well, the book is broken into little readings for each day of the year. Today's reading was about comfort clothes and what they mean. What a perfect reading for today. I sit here at my computer with my favorite long-sleeved T-shirt on and my most comfy jeans. My shoes are off, naturally, since they're the first things to go when I walk into the house...or work...so what? And I am reclined at my desk, laptop where it belongs - on my lap, feet where they belong-propped up on my desk. Now, before you hate how "unprofessional" this seems to be...wouldn't you be more productive at work if you could dress in your comfy clothes everyday and take your shoes off?

Boxes! Little Boxes! I think women who have a clue should set the tone for what is beautiful and acceptable when it comes to our clothing. No one wants to wear itchy, sweaty, noisy clothes that pinch, ride up (or down), have to be dry-cleaned and worn a size to0 small (because, who the hell can buy new suits with every weight fluctuation?).

I was at my friend Tania's house yesterday when she came home from work. I looked at her and was stunned for a second. My first thougth was, "man, who died?" She was decked out in her dark suit and blouse, complete with pantyhose and pumps. On a Tuesday!!! That has got to be the worst. I love working at a non-profit (except of course...for the lack of profits.)

What is it about comfortable clothes that makes life so much better? When I think about yesterday, I had on a new pair of jeans that was not quite broken in right, wedge-heeled loafers, and a sweater. Not what I consider comfy cozy...and I felt like crap. I'm sure it wasn't just the clothes, but I bet if I'd worn what I have on today, my outlook would have been a little brighter.

Here's to comfort clothes and burning high heels! Except....they look so good!

Pain, the price for beauty?

Eyes to See

I am feeling less cynical this week, but still passionate about many of the things that got me to that point in the first place. I think I've learned that my cynicism helps me feel in control. Of what you ask? Of the pain of disappointment. If I am cynical I can head pain off at the pass and be sarcastic before it gets a chance to hurt. You know, strike first and then you won't hurt so bad. It's a delusion. I know. But I'm glad I worked through it this week. Does this mean an end to cynicism and sarcasm from Lexi....come on? Are you kidding? But I'm glad for the alarm it sets off so that I can examine what I'm really running from.

I am accumulating quite a bit of awareness of my tools of avoidance. I should teach a class (on avoidance and escapism that is). The sad thing is that we are all experts in this. Some of us gurus. Life and relationship is the only classroom for learning to avoid avoidance and escape escapism. I wish there were an easier way, but there's just not. When hurt in relationship...You've got to be in relationship to heal. (Sigh.)

Last week I felt like someone put me in a slingshot and catapulted me back a year and a half. It was miserable. I 'm grateful for the people in my life who have reminded me that I'm not still there. Where I am is a crazy, crazy place, but I'm so hopeful of what will come of it.

Man, if that's not a smack in the cynic's face.

Now, I feel like I'm playing a game of chicken with those who read this blog. At times I get really close to transparency and showing my heart--to inviting you to know me-- and then I run like the wind. I am aware of this and I'm working on it. There are parts of me (not the sorted details of my story) just me, that I have exposed in the form of poetry and other stuff that is just soooo hard for me to share. I wrestled with friends this weekend over why that is. This is what I came up with:

It is far easier for me to be misnamed by the circumstances that have caused me pain and to hide behind that name than it is to admit that those things don't make me who I am. I struggle to acknowledge that the person God has made me is good, reflective of him, and of value to the world. God knows my name, but I do not. I would rather the broken pieces be seen and possibly rejected than to be vulnerable enough to have my glory called forth and seen because for that to be rejected seems unbearable.

I pray for eyes to see me as He sees me, to be named by Him. And, as scary as this is for me...I invite you to share what you see.



Kisses.

Cynicism

cyn·i·cism (sn-szm) n.

1. An attitude of scornful or jaded negativity, especially a general distrust of the integrity or professed motives of others

2. A scornfully or jadedly negative comment or act

__________________________________________

I am definitely feeling a little, ok, a LOT cynical these days about a few hot topics for me. I know this and I don't need anybody pointing it out to me. Self-awareness is a beautiful, beautiful thing. It's a place I hope I won't stay for very long. I hate hating and distrusting so much. (Although, I believe wholeheartedly that a lot of what/who I am most cynical about (towards?) should be distrusted and questioned!)

I'm curious about people's thoughts on cynicism. What's the value? What's the harm? What's the middle ground? What are you cynical about? I am SO cynical about political correctness...and, oh yeah, the church and church folks...and brothas. If you've read my site, you know the deal. I have tried to hide much of my cynicism in my feable attempts at eloquence...but today, I'm even cynical about eloquence. Just say it! Dang it!!

I know my cynicism is rooted in experience, a ton of experience that has caused tremendous pain that will not disappear overnight. In some areas I feel this experience leaves me all the wiser, in others, dangerously skeptical in that, if unchanged, it will prevent some channels of love into my life.

I'm cynical, at the moment, about "process". It's like a buzz word for what's going to fix all the evils in your life. I know healing is a process, desite how easily sarcasm and snide remarks roll off of my tongue. I'm not really enjoying this place.

I guess I should tell you before you comment on this post that I am cynical about people who think they have the answers, as well. Please be brave enough to not let that dissuade you from entering into this discussion. A discussion is exactly what I'm inviting here. I'm not asking to be fixed.

That said. Any thoughts on cynicism? Any stories of your own? What are other people cynical about?

I did a self- test on this site: http://www.i-cynic.com/quiz.asp

Here are my results:

The Official Cynic's Self-Test
You have potential. While you're not yet a full-blown cynic, you exhibit promising talents in that direction. Go ahead and explore the sample definitions from The Cynic's Dictionary to see if you agree.

ISO Bid Whist Players

Does anybody play Bid Whist? I am in-search-of at least 2 other people who are interested in playing, preferrably more.

If you don't know what Bid Whist is....it's Spades for grown-ups! LOL. It really isn't that complicated. I'm a pretty good teacher, but I'm looking for the seasoned to have some fun on the weekends. (I think I'm turning into my parents!) But, this really does sound like fun to me.

I need someone to bring the clam-dip (don't knock it 'til you try it - I too was a skeptic) and a few other snacks and drinks and we've got ourselves a party. Oh yeah, I'll supply the place too.

Let me know if you're interested.

Happy 23rd Birthday...Again!!!!

Happy Birthday!

This is my Granny and her youngest great-grandchild, Jaidan.

Today is the yellow Shortie's birthday.

If you ask her, she'll say she's 23 and some days old.

I need that to be a whole lot of days, because if not, that makes me 10 years younger than she! (And we definitely can't have that, can we?)

Well, happy birthday Granny.

I love you.

Here's to 23 more!!!!

(Anybody got any Granny stories they want to post?)

Flanagan Again!!

Try saying the title of this post 3 times fast! Better yet, try calling back a place you just called and having to announce that it's you calling...again! Ahhhhh. The woes of being a Flanagan. But today I welcome them back into my life. I am officially (unofficially) re-inaugurating my birth name. It's time, even if the courts say otherwise. So, today, I am Alexis Flanagan again. YAAAAY!! It's all about being Irish, you know. Even if I don't look it.

I've had to be a little defensive at times when people are shocked to see the face behind the name. But who cares? A friend of mine, who may want to identify himself....(hint hint)...wanted to buy me a T-shirt. I thought it would be perfect for me to wear to defend my Irish-nicity. But, since I don't have it to wear, I'll post it here:

Gotta love me!!! Hey, everybody think's I'm going to hell anyway! Here's more fodder for their judgement.

OK. I'm in rare form today, so let me quit while I'm ahead.

Happy St. Paddy's Day. Have fun. Don't drink too much. I'll handle that part for you. LOL.

(It's a joke. Please abstract ingot from fundament. Thank you.)

Surprise, Surprise!

You're a Glass of Wine!


What Type of Alcoholic Beverage Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla


I did this quiz today just for kicks. I am so NOT surprised! Yikes! Except for the quiet part. Hmmmmm.....

An Empty Well

It has been an incredible struggle for me to give myself permission to take care of me. I have always been a giver, a caretaker and in that I have failed to care for myself well or even at all.

Taking care of others has kept me going for years, in a very unhealthy way for me. It has been my escape from my own life, from my own pain. In a very twisted way it gave me purpose where I saw none in the reality of my experience. I grew accustomed to my role and apparently others have as well.

As I begin to experience the peace and pain of the healing process I am disappointed that those I have cared for for so long continue to ask for more from an empty well. It hurts and feels like despite all that has been offered, it will never be enough. I feel like I don't matter. I feel type-cast: forever the rescuer, forever the fixer, the explainer, the hold-it-all-togetherer. I am broken and I need to be cared for for a change.

It is an uncomfortable place to be empty. It's hard to sit and wait to be filled. I am not used to this place. Not that I've never been here, I've just never acknowledged that I am here and rested in it.

I know I am called to share my story, as we all are, but it feels so unsafe at times. Maybe some spaces are safer than others and I will benefit to learn where those are. But safe often equates to comfortable in my mind and I am wary of my comfort zone.

I'm rambling. But I'm grateful for friends who have been empty and are willing to sit with me and wait, and grieve, and hope for more for me--for those who have entered with me into my story and are touched with what my experience has been. Ah, to be known and still loved.

I am empty but not alone. God is pursing me and providing all I need for the journey. He is good.

The Church

Today my heart aches for the Church. I feel crushed by her. I feel unloved, misunderstood and disappointed. I’m angry and yet not surprised. I’m even more disappointed that I’m not surprised.

There is such a divide between Christ and his Church. The Body sometimes seems so far, so distant, so contrary to how I imagine her head. I want love in a way I’m realizing is very hard for man to do. I want the kind of love that can love the offender and the offended equally and desire more for both.

I know how hard it is for clay to try to contain the love of Majesty; I fail everyday. I want to desire more for someone I hate and never want to see again. I want to heal and not feel the bitter rancor that surfaces when I contemplate how his Body has handled my story. I’m angry and hurt but I don’t want to stay here.

I love God, but I am struggling every day, almost every moment, to love his Church. I want to see her as bigger than those who comprise her, but I am stuck, fixated on how I have experienced her negatively. I want to imagine more for her. I want to experience more of the good I know is there in earthen vessels.

But I’m afraid to approach, afraid to draw near. The wounds are too fresh, too raw. I’m scared that if I get too close the wounds will be grazed and hurt so badly all over again.

I’m afraid of feeling any of this pain all over again.

Priorities

I have some conflicting priorities this week that are posing a problem for me.

1. In the midst of this whole re-evaluation of faith I found a class that I thought would be interesting and provocative: American Jesus or Incomparable Christ? It examines ways Jesus Christ is understood in the pages of Scripture, in the history of the church, and in the general culture. We will examine the changing faces of Christ as He has been variously understood and misunderstood and seek to better comprehend the biblical material. (Sigh). It will be good for me because it's from a Christian tradition that I am resistant to.
2. But.....Idol is on tonight! And I don't have anyway to record it.
3. Then, tomorrow night I want to go to Black Cat for open mic night. An organization I work with, HIPS (Helping Individual Prostitutes Survive), is being sponsored and proceeds go to help them with their work "to assist female, male, and transgendered individuals engaging in sex work in Washington, DC in leading healthy lives. Utilizing a harm reduction model, HIPS' programs strive to address the impact that HIV/AIDS, STIs, discrimination, poverty, violence and drug use have on the lives of individuals engaging in sex work." (Sigh).
4. But...Idol is on Wednesday night too! And still no way to record it.

Priorities, priorities. Whatever shall I do?

Oh, and by the way, while I do love Ace, my money is on Elliot, Chris, Gedeon and Will for the top guys.

Any assistance with the Priorities issue? Like, somebody wanting to donate a VCR?

Amazing

Amazing is a word that is over-the-top overused nowadays. But it is the only one I can think of as I stand in awe of my God. Words are so limiting. I am certain that He is amazing in ways our finite minds can not comprehend.

Today I am reminded of how utterly creative He is and that He most definitely is not a one-size-fits-all God. Here’s why. My greatest fear in life is miscarriage. It may seem completely irrational. I have never been pregnant and at this point in my life, have no plans for pregnancy at all. But I fear losing a pregnancy more than I fear losing my own life. It is a nightmare to consider, arguably my worst nightmare. Yet, yesterday I sat in the emergency room with a dear friend who was experiencing a miscarriage. For her, it was an experience of God’s amazing grace towards her. She walked away from the experience more convinced than ever that her faith is in a God who’s real and who really cares about her.

And what’s more amazing is that God put us in the experience together. He put me face-to-face with my worst fear. And he put her with someone who was more afraid of what was happening to her, perhaps, than she was. When she cried out in pain and said, “Alexis I’m scared”, all I could say was, “I’m scared too. Let’s get you to the hospital.” If I were God and running the show, I never would have sent her me.

God calls us sheep. I’m guessing that’s not because we’re cute and cuddly. It probably means we’re dumb and desperately in need of guidance every step of the way, because what makes the most sense to us will get us killed or drive us far away from moments that we could never craft for ourselves in which he reveals himself to us in amazing ways. I am convinced that we can not find our own way in this world, no matter how much we want to. This life is bigger than me, an individual, and my plans for my individual life. I am convinced that our lives are connected in ways we can’t fathom and that are part of God’s purpose.

I was confused about where to post this today, so I’ve put it in both places. As much as this experience was about friendship it was about faith. I’m even more convinced today that God is with me in this journey.

Ace Update?

I heard Ace didn't do well last night? Did anybody see him? What happened? Black with white pin-stripes is not flattering. He needs to stick to T-shirts.

Emotional Shifts

I am absolutely amazed at the brain's capacity to process sooo much in a split second. Especially emotions. There seems to be so much information behind each emotion we feel, and for that to just switch in an instant blows my mind. Well, I guess it should blow my mind, but...it doesn't...and....that's why I'm amazed.....yeah! Maybe it did blow my mind after all.

When I came into work today I was absolutely livid. I was mad at the mortgage company, the ex, my bank, the idiot who charged my account $750 for God knows what, the fact that I missed Ace last night on idol trying to get this bank crap straight! I think I cussed in my brain for every step I took towards the office from my car this morning. I ran off all the reasons why I hate all the entities I just mentioned and yes, by the way, how I was going to hate having to call my Executive Director to have her put a stop on my direct deposit so that it too does not get swallowed up in the sink whole that is my checking account. Did I mention that the rent check is out there?

Then, I get into work, make a few phone calls and get actual people to talk to and find out that the ex didn't pay the mortgage from my bank account, the IRS isn't garnishing my wages, nobody stole my credit card. Some dyslexic mom trying to send her kid to LEADAmerica, some leadership training institute, transposed the digits in her account number and gave mine instead. Hasn't it occurred to anyone that account numbers should be random and NOT that easy to get confused? Anyway a few phone calls, faxes and credits to my account and I am a happy woman again. No more "filth, flarn, filths". Only, "good morning sunshines!" I'm a pleasant person again in a flash. It's amazing. My body even feels different. I guess that's the adrenalin shutting off.

Well, happy times now.

Have a great day!