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Posts Tagged ‘acceptance’

Don’t Drink The Water!

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , on January 14, 2014| 1 Comment »

Water in tub

This is what 16 gallons of rain water looks like in the bathtub. See my Facebook page if you’d like to see a video of the trip from the house to the rain barrel.

Five days ago a chemical spill contaminated drinking water in a nine-county area of West Virginia. We were the number two story on national news, right behind the Target credit card debacle.

Warned to neither drink nor touch the water, I had no problem keeping my distance as just the fumes were enough to give me a headache. While many shifted into panic mode, fighting over the limited supplies of bottled water on grocery store shelves, I donned a familiar persona: Adventure Barbie. I instantly shifted into problem solving mode, dipping rainwater from bird baths to heat on the stove for a Friday morning sponge bath. I inventoried the containers of water we had on hand and was thrilled to discover five gallons in the storage room, left over from the Y2K scare. My friend Elizabeth Heiser called it “Vintage,” which made the 14-year-old water seem even more precious.

With warming temperatures and rain in the forecast, we awakened the rain barrels from winter hibernation. We enacted home-wide water conservation procedures, and Dannie, as well as all affected employees, received a case of drinking water from The Home Depot before they sold the rest to the public.

Sunday found me foregoing my usual treadmill workout in favor of toting rainwater from the cottage to the house. I made eight trips, carrying two gallons (16 pounds) each time. I covered 1.7 miles in just under an hour. It was quite a workout, including two flights of steps each trip to get to the third floor bathtub. I’ll never look at a full bathtub the same, that’s for sure.

Sunday night we traveled 15 miles to St. Albans, where our friends Linda and Matt Higgs allowed us to use their shower. They also generously offered glasses of wine, some wonderful conversation, and fresh water for our empty containers.

Yesterday I contemplated how two-thirds of the people in the world do not have running water. Many spend hours every single day locating and carrying water for their families. Each time I walked the cottage path to the rain barrel, I sent love and compassion around the world, feeling connected in a way I never had before. I also lifted up enormous amounts of gratitude for my many blessings.

A couple of hours ago I received a call from the water company notifying me that our zone had been cleared. It took about 30 minutes to perform the pipe flushing procedures, and now life can return to normal.

Even as I acknowledge the many who suffered tremendous financial loss as a result of this water crisis, I send appreciation to my Adventurous Problem Solving Self for eschewing victim mode, adopting a good attitude, and keeping myself and our dishes clean.

Long Live Adventure Barbie!!! I think I need a red cape … but first, a hot shower!

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There’s something wrong with me!

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , on October 21, 2013| 8 Comments »

Gifts of Imperfection

Yesterday I began an e-course with Brené Brown, “The Gifts of Imperfection,” and the first reading shined a light into a dark corner of my life. When I was a kid, I suffered horribly from homesickness. I rarely made it through a neighborhood sleepover. As my friends fell asleep, I would grow increasingly nauseated until I’d scoop up my pillow, sprint across two or three back yards, and burst through my own front door, breathless but safe. I would crawl shamefully into my bed and fall sleep without ever waking my parents.

As I grew older and my friends lived blocks away instead of one or two doors down, I usually gutted it out. But as the nausea set in, I would cease having fun and go to bed early. After they thought I was asleep, my friends discussed what was wrong with me.

Memories of visits to Grandma’s house include the coffee can by my bed for when I got sick in the night. I never went to overnight camps nor on vacation with my friends. In high school I passed up a French Club trip to Paris and worried constantly about going away to college. I was apprehensive about marriage, sure that I wouldn’t survive that first night away from home without throwing up.

I never did go away to college. I somehow averted disaster by redefining “home” when I got married. I continued to suffer from “travel anxiety” (my grown up term for homesickness) well into my 40s and still experience significant twinges of discomfort the week before any travel that involves an overnight stay.

As an adult, I’ve done a good job of overcoming the problem, but this morning I realized I still have the lingering belief that “there’s something wrong with me.” I still find myself feeling the shame of the 10-year-old who pretended to be asleep as her playmates attempted to diagnose her malady.

As my “Year of Acceptance” moves into its final quarter, I find myself wondering if I can develop some understanding and compassion for my Homesick Self. I think I may be ready to release half a century of judgment, disgust, and impatience. Instead of berating the trait, I wonder if I can find The Gift in this particular Imperfection.

I’ll be carrying that intention with me during the next six weeks as I work my way through Brené Brown’s e-course.

As of September 2017, this class is still available through the link below. It was one of the best classes I’ve ever taken online! The cost is $69.99. Click this link for more information: http://www.oprah.com/brenebrown

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An Act of Self-Love

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , on October 10, 2013| 9 Comments »

White Kitty

As I closed the cottage door behind me this morning, I heard a noise inside. When I looked, I was stunned. Oh, no! White Kitty on the floor in a hundred pieces!

A very young part of me began to cry. The three-year-old who had received it as a gift from her Daddy, was in shock and overwhelmed with raw grief.

As I swept the floor, I remembered the many shelves upon which White Kitty had been displayed over the decades. Never packed away for safe keeping, she went from my childhood dresser, to my teenage desk, to my newlywed hutch. She watched over Baby Britain from the changing table, spent several years on the living room fireplace mantle, and did a stint in Mom’s sick room.

After Mom passed, I took White Kitty to the cottage to join several other memory-filled treasures. The grown-up part of me knows nothing lasts forever. She is sad but ready to move on. The three-year-old, though, is really struggling.

So I allowed that part of me to dig through the trash and put White Kitty’s head and the tip of her tail back on the shelf. Later, I got the urge to retrieve the rest of the big pieces and put them in a box. It just didn’t seem right to throw Kitty away like that. She needed to be honored, to be acknowledged for the 56 years of faithful service. A nice box, a few words, and a friend or two to help say goodbye.

Good grief! The three-year-old wants a funeral! I want to say, “Get real, girl! It’s just a ceramic figure!” But I would never say that to an actual three-year-old in pain. So, I am choosing not to say it to myself either. The fragile part of me deserves compassion, understanding, and most of all, some time to let go of a lifelong treasure.

So, I’ll leave the head on the shelf for a while and the rest of the pieces in the box. Showing compassion, tenderness, and love toward myself is a new practice for me. I’m not sure how this will unfold, but I do know, there’s no hurry. I will trust my heart to lead the way.

White Kitty's Head

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True Confessions

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , on September 10, 2013| 2 Comments »

Painting on tile

Summer Beauty (Acrylic on Tile by Barbie Dallmann)

I know I’m supposed to be an enlightened, got-it-all-together coach type person, but this morning when my iPod wouldn’t turn on, an enraged control-freak grabbed the reins and took over.

“Piece of s**t iPod! I’m the boss of you, and I say, WORK!”

She Googled “dead iPod” and followed the directions for a reset. Nothing. She plugged it into a wall socket and tried again. Nada. She cajoled, caressed, lightly pressed buttons, and then slammed it on the sink. Still nothing but a trashed iPod.

“So, now I can’t go for my morning run!” declared this stubborn, irritated, acting-like-a-child part of me.

From somewhere deep inside Coach Barbie whispered in that irritatingly calm voice of hers, “Is that true? You can’t run without an iPod?”

A heavy sigh accompanied a defiant response, “No, it’s not true. I can run without an iPod … but I don’t want to!”

“Is that  true?” she asked again. “You don’t want to run? You’re all dressed and ready to go. You love morning runs. Is it true you don’t want to run?”

“No . . . but still . . . ,” she whined, losing bravado. And then she left the house, and as I gained my stride, the resistant, negative, stubborn part of me began to dissolve, and I allowed myself to compassionately observe what had just happened.

Something didn’t go my way, and I resisted. I made it wrong. I fought reality with everything I could muster. I was looking for everything that was wrong about the situation … the money, the time, the inconvenience, the lost activity records … not to mention that I have no clue where I left off in the audio book I was listening to.

Before I had the tools to process this sort of thing, I would have been caught in a negative spiral for hours, maybe days. But with the simple question, “What’s right about this?” I was able to use my entire run this morning to find the good.

And the best thing I found was a memory of my 12-year-old self on vacation with my family. There was no room for me in the cab, so I rode alone in the camper on the back of the pick-up. From Nebraska through Wyoming, New Mexico, Arizona, Nevada, Utah, Colorado, and home again. For a month, I rode alone with no iPod, no video games, no laptop, no cell phone. Just me, a few books, and my endless imagination. I lost myself in the scenery and entertained myself with stories of what my life would be like when I was grown up and on my own. I imagined going to work, buying a car, marrying my sweetheart, moving into a house, and giving birth to a baby. I day-dreamed a happy life for myself, full of freedom and beauty and travel.

One very good thing about not having an iPod (especially when you’re 12) is it gives you lots of time to work on manifesting a life worth living.

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