Power of a Picture

I read it years ago in a wonderful book called "The Blessing",  there is power in word pictures.  I can talk to myself all day, give myself the lecture, quote the affirmation, (and these things help) but if I want to really turn my attitude around, I need a solid word picture to hang my hat on. 

Two weeks ago, I got the image of the rock.  I'm still referring to that picture often.  See, I still have all the circumstances that were paralyzing me before I got that picture, but now when I feel fear rising in my throat, I remind myself that rock is bigger than I can lift.  I actually have a particular rock in mind when I think of it.  It's the rock from the Garden of the Gods that has the kissing camel formation on the top.  (I'll try to get a photo for you, it's really spectacular.)

The point is that the very thought of me trying to lift that rock is so ludicrous that I laugh, and it's hard to be afeared while I'm laughing. 

Last week, I get a second image.  It's not completely original, but I've made it my own.  See I've learned that I have this little voice that tells me that I "don't deserve" - for years I didn't deserve to have the marriage that I longed for, so I settled for the one I had.  For even more years, I didn't deserve to make myself a priority, so I didn't take care of myself the way I knew I should.  These are biggies, but the little voice pops up all the time to point out new and exciting examples of things that I don't deserve. 

At first, I thought that the voice was guilt.  It's not guilt.  Guilt is the logical and appropriate response to having done something wrong.  I haven't done anything wrong.  The little voice that creeps around the corners of my mind and spews venom to poison my confidence, my self-esteem and my ability to make sound decisions to take care of myself ... is the voice of shame.  Guilt says, "I made a mistake."  Shame says, "I am a mistake."  I ran across those definitions a couple months ago, but I still hadn't appropriated the antidote for paralyzing shame.  I found one.

Now when I start to hear those whispers that would have me believe that I'm a mistake, that I'm bad, that I'm weak, that I'm not deserving, I picture a red-assed baboon.  I'm apologize to my sensitive readers, but that's really the only good way to describe this critter.  Shame is a baboon jumping around and tearing things up with no ability to comprehend the value of the property being played with.  So whenever I sense that the baboon has escaped, I blow my mental whistle and smile while the zookeepers hustle it back into it's cage.  See, I know that the baboon is smart enough to escape, so it doesn't alarm me when I hear it nearby, because I also know that all I have to do is blow the whistle on it's little monkey act. 

            Shame

                            on

                                          You

I had my second interview

Went back for hte second interview with the company that I'm still hoping will hire me.  They asked me to take a test, which I did and have since figured out that there were some things I got wrong ... but oh, well.  I did the best I could and I'll just leave it at that.  I'm figuring that I don't have to be perfect, I just have to be the best candidate they get.   So I'm praying that everyone else makes the same or more mistakes.   

I followed up with the car rental company that I applied to last week.  And I'm still hoping I can get an interview with them.  I'm salivating over the prospect of that job because one of the bennies is that I would drive a company car.  I'm getting rather used to this Mustang, I could live with this for quite some time.

Things are looking good on the home front.  Tom and Eliza are going on a three day mini-vacation, so I'll be here with the kids and my aunt and uncle.  I haven't spent nearly as much time with them as I would have liked since I've been here, so I'm looking forward to this. 

I talked with the apartment people this morning and in less than two weeks, I can start moving in.  Whooo Hoooooo!  (That give God two more weeks to get me hooked up with a job, so I'm kind of watching to see what He does about that ... )

In other news, Michael had food poisoning over the weekend so he was a sad sad camper.  For those of you who know us in real life, you'll understand how seriously his Momi was taking it when I tell you that the child was quiet for two days.  He didn't talk, he didn't tell me a single story, he didn't do anything but lie there in between dashes to the toilet.  He was looking a lot better by yesterday afternoon, and he was recovered enough this morning to go back to school. 

PS - My therapist is out of town today and next Monday.  I'm feeling surprisingly unhappy about this set of circumstances.  Not that I begrudge her a vacation, but I'm having issues here.  If she's going out of town, she should take me with her!  (Anybody remember "What about Bob?")