Logic will get you from A to B. Imagination will take you everywhere. – Einstein
Do you remember the first time you did anything? This is a friend of ours, and this is his first taste of watermelon!
When Dylan (ten years old) found out that this was Zeke’s first taste of watermelon he said:
“I wish I was little. I don’t remember the first time I ate watermelon. It’s an honor to share this with him.” (Yes, that’s a direct quote. He said ‘honor.’)
Is that not the sweetest thing?
It made my day.
Beauty in the midst of Chaos
Just a few brief thoughts, because of the business of my day. It’s a bold confession to admit to others, especially Christians, that you are an alcoholic. I can admit it to myself readily enough, although it did take me six years. But once the admission is made internally I do not feel ashamed.
The moment that one speaks publicly, the idea of being an addict feels shameful. I fear that others will perceive me as weak (an unspoken judgment that I used to make about other addicts, if I am utterly honest).
So little is understood about the nature of this disease, and after all my training I still find it hard to believe that alcoholism is a disease, like cancer or any other.
My own internal judgment, my low esteem for myself, my fear that I am simply a weak person all join forces to tell me that I have to do this alone!
And so, it took me nearly a year to walk into my first AA meeting. I’ve been sober since July 24th, 2008 but yesterday was my first meeting where by walking into that room filled with beautiful, amazing women, I was admitting that I was powerless over alcohol and I was acknowledging that I have been judgmental about others and have not wanted to be surrounded by what I had perceived, in advance of even meeting them, as slightly -odd, -crazy, -weak, definitely-weird overly needy strangers.
Forgive me, for my wrong thinking. For the last year I have found strength in feeling “above” those others: addicts who need AA. I felt superior, intelligent, stronger, better … I didn’t ‘need’ AA.
You know what I have to say to that? WHATEVER!!!
I am powerless. And yet for nearly a year I have stayed sober by isolation and sheer strength of will. I have worked on very many aspects of my life, spiritual and physical, emotional and psychological. I have quit smoking. I have become more centered. I have sought out strong influences.
And yet, I can not stay sober alone. And so I went to my first meeting and for the first time in ages I felt that I was not alone** in my addiction. I could sit and listen to others and not have to think so much, get out of my head into my heart, and just BE.
Keep coming back was a good message for me yesterday and I will.
So be it.
Melody
** alone – by that I do not mean unsupported. Tom and others have been encouraging and supportive, but not being addicts, there’s just something that can’t be said, understood, known.
In my journey between belief and disbelief, I have found Truth to be something I choose not to argue about, but to be what I have experienced in the mystery of the flesh-and-blood of the incarnation. My encounter with Truth is the Story — my responses, reflected in word and image, are but a ripple in the ocean of that mystery.
After a recent exhibit at an artist showcase at my church, I found that I was ultimately ambivalent about it. One image I preferred, titled Sinkhole, seen below, truthfully expressed the dark lull of depression which is a reoccurring struggle for me, but the rest of my images were drivel. After searching within, and asking for guidance, I found inside myself a desire which I came to understand as this:
I want my photography and poetry to reflect the improbable and shattering experiences I have had encountering Jesus — encounters between my grubby and muddled life and Truth. These moments aren’t at all pretty; my struggles with a life-threatening depression (the sinkhole), the death of an abusive yet charming parent, a loathsome self-esteem, the tensions between my passions & my search for ultimate purpose, and the shame & fear in acknowledging my alcoholism, are all relevant to my faith journey.
I am living with the tension of wanting to create beautiful, excellent art and to reflect the sweat and toil of my faith. To honestly reflect the sweet serenity of unconditional love & laughter, as well as suffering, pain and broken heart I have from things chosen and unchosen in my life. The satisfaction I have experienced in my slow, bittersweet surrender to believing God is who he says he is and can do what he says he can do! The heart’s quickening by the spirit of God which is earth shattering and good.
I’m fully aware that my writing and photography will never have the Answers to the Questions people have — but if it can be a simple witness to my experiences and a nudge toward Truth, I will be satisfied. Knowing Jesus promised that those who seek will find. We can trust him. He meant what he said.
I want my Art to be a connection that cannot help but push one toward God. I need to make this kind of art, need it desperately. And I hope in the act of creating, whether through a lens or written word., some restitution will be found.
Is it too much to ask that Art heals, directs, and in the end is a tiny inkling of God’s Truth? There is a certain anxiety or fear involved with the attempt. Not wanting to be marginalized by the world for making “Christian art,” I feel reluctant and yet strangely compelled! What other option do I have? If my art is relevant to the entirety of my experience, from the dazzling to the profane moments, then it just may be relevant to the people around me.
This is my wish.
MHH
Some of my thinking was inspired by: http://www.relevantmagazine.com, http://www.insidecatholic.com, as well as by the writings of C.S.Lewis. Teaching at Blackhawk Church, http://www.blackhawkchurch.org, has been a catalyst in this profound change in my life over the last seven years.
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It’s difficult to face
some days.
Yesterday was like that
simply
because I was face-to-face
with my [faithless and revolting] need
for Substance.
And I vowed,
again, as I do many days
to offer my need to God, the ultimate Other,
asking for a filling.
I need a filling dear Lord, I need a filling.
written 4/13/2009
by Melody Harrison Hanson
Being an addict catches me by surprise. Today,
seemingly innocent things — a drink, a smoke, a purchase, food, even exercise can become
urgent
need.
In the time that it takes to feel a flash of happiness, sadness or regret;
less than 60 seconds of my life
and I remember,
I am an addict. How could I have forgotten?
Today I must ask what brought this on?
For tomorrow I must fill the need
with OTHER.
As for yesterday, I can only look back and remember
I am an addict, but I am stronger than my need.
And as for this moment — I know I am an addict;
I am. I was. I always will be, always will be
an addict.
ADDICT written april 9, 2009 by melody harrison hanson
Those that have no background in addiction look at the word ADDICT and the word alcoholic as kind of wicked and weak. Face it, our culture doesn’t understand. But if you’ve been there, if you live there, if you love someone who does or has you know exactly what I mean. And I thank you for understanding.
My lovely husband. I am so proud of him. Although his ‘day job’ is wonderful and he’s an amazing leader of his organization, I know that his passion is his music which does in his off hours. Last year he completed his 2nd album, ironically titled Everything Takes Forever, a five year project?! It’s a beautiful CD.
He just received word that one of his songs—“Even So” from his 2nd CD Everything Takes Forever will be used on the CBS prime time show, Ghost Whisperer, tonight Friday (2/13/09, 8:00 PM ET; 7:00 PM CT) If you’d like, check it out.
Also, his website is:
www.myspace.com/tomhansonmusic in case you want to stop by to sample.
Peace to all, Melody
STIMULUS —————> Freedom to Choose –————> OUR RESPONSE
For years it has been a compulsive habit to chew my nails. Frankly it’s a disgusting habit, and it is an instant signal to me (and to others unfortunately) that I’m feeling insecure. When I was in high school I noticed that my very accomplished and well-educated teacher had disgusting, chewed to the quick, nails. And I realized in that moment, which felt extremely profound to me as an 11th grader, that my teacher was insecure. And if you combined the fact that she over-weight, in my mind, she was extremely insecure.
My take away, I was not the only one! I know it seems strange, but at that point in my life, I was self-aware enough to see that I was insecure I didn’t realize that other people were too. But in that amazing moment in my class I accepted that other people were insecure too. I will never forget it.
What makes us so afraid of change? It takes three weeks to make a habit, supposedly. So are we basically lazy, or don’t believe in ourselves enough to change, do we think we somehow deserve what we have, or are we afraid of change? I’ve been thinking a lot about this as I work on internal and external issues. Internally, I am working on liking myself and acknowledging good and positive things about myself. Externally I am working on liking myself and fixing the things I don’t like. Actually, I’m working on change in both places.
But I’m working toward looking for the indicators in my life that say other truths. Although I have some friends who have said that I’m too difficult, manipulative, unpredictable, mean-spirited …. I have others who have said my story, my experiences, my processing my pain, helps them. Do I focus on the one that feels like rejection or on the positive?
Well, you know what I do choose, habitually and compulsively. The NEGATIVE!
Listening to those positive people, it doesn’t mean that the others were wrong. Alcoholics are manipulative. I am broken. Many times extremely dysfunctional. I am needy. I a’m impulsive. I am unfaithful. I’m … see how easy it is to make that list? (Deep breath.) But not always. Not completely. And I’m working to change. I cannot change the past, and even some relationships I can’t fix. As much as that hurts, I can’t stay there. And I trust that some day, something redemptive will happen there.
But for now, it’s on to mastering my life!
So, about the life change: I’ve been dieting and exercising for two weeks, Sunday, and had gotten pretty discouraged because I wasn’t losing weight more quickly. I started at 168.5 and yesterday, at noon the scale still said 165, which makes me fucking furious. (Please excuse my cursing. It’s a inelegant habit. Perhaps one of these days I’ll work on it too, but until then …)
Today I was finally at 163!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’ve changed two things.
1) I weighed myself first thing in the morning, before I got ready for the day, before eating, drinking my coffee, and exercising, and it was lower. Wahoo!
2) I actually think I may have been eating too few calories, so as Tom has told me a million times, my body thinks I’m starving it and goes into hoarding calories. It is impossible to lose weight in those circumstances. And although the fact is weird, I just lose my appetite when I’m not eating. And I’m just compulsive enough to not slam a bunch of carbohydrates if I happen to feel hungry, like I normally would. A chocolate croissant or even a Big Mac for lunch, yes that is me. (Did you know a Big Mac is 600 calories or something? That’s like half the day’s calories if you’re watching it.) So instead I’d have a couple pieces of string cheese or a hand full of almonds or a protein bar, none of which is more than 200 calories and not enough for a meal.
Anyway, lessons for life. Making positive change in your life is firstly about believing in yourself. Deciding, just for today, I’m going to do something different. Not glancing back at yesterday, for it is likely to have some failures. And NOT looking at it like it is for the rest of your life. It’s today. What am I eating that is in the positive column, if you will: fruit, veggies, protein, even carbs if they are grains that are good for you. Did I exercise in any manner. Why not a 15 minute walk? or, something else.
* The Seven Habits of Highly Effective Familes, Stephen R. Covey
The whole idea of blogging about diet and exercise is such a pedestrian stereotype. But be warned, this is a journal about a personal transformation. No, even better, my personal body revolution! No blood will be shed, but change is occurring! And if, by following along, it is meaningful to others, that’s a reward too. I won’t be preposterous and say it with help someone. But I know MANY people struggle with “issues” of weight loss or gain, disordered eating and body hatred, so that’s why I make this journal public. It will be about mastering my body and life.
A week ago Sunday I began to use our treadmill for a long walking workout. Every day, I walk for at least an hour, because this gives my body a “wake up” time and then once it (my body) is fully awake and functional, I give it a good hard sweat. Doing this, I am able to burn from 500-750 calories in about an hour. And I feel great afterwords. I drink about 32 oz. of water during and after the workout and am feeling really good. I know I just said that, but it bears repeating! This type of workout makes me feel really, really good.
When I quit drinking in July, 08 my weight was up to 169, which is the very highest my weight has ever been when not pregnant or recovering from pregnancy. I’ve always said I will never ‘get fat’ I am not certain that I have the willpower to take it off. As members of my family have struggled with their weight for years, the yo-yo of a life of dieting was something I feared. I do not want that!! I’m afraid of that eventuality. An yet, here I am at 42 and 168 or so pounds, and the scale and my BMI tell me I am over-weight at 5’6″. As I said, I thought when I quit drinking that the weight would drop off, but I guess that my body had adjusted and was comfortable with it. This puts me at a size 14 and uncomfortable. For about a half a year I have been in MAJOR denial about this weight gain. But you can’t deny it forever and hitting 170 would be it for me. There’s no denying it.
Since giving birth to three kids in 1997, 1999 and 1991, I carried about ten pounds for each child. In 1992 I tried the first diet of my life more out of a desire to be supportive to Tom. I can actually say that South Beach diet works and I lost 17 pounds in about two months. I was a beautiful size ten and I have to say that I felt fantastic. I wasn’t working out at all and people told me I looked “unhealthy.” But for the first time in years the heavy, bloated, thick-waisted feeling was gone.
So now, in my closets I have my skinny clothes (did I just say my skinny clothes? Ew!) (9-10s), my medium clothes (11-12s), and my heavy clothes (solid 14).
All this rambling brings me to today. As already mentioned, a week ago Sunday I started working out and watching my calories. Tom’s the kind of dieter that counts calories, tallying in his mind all day long. When he gets to his limit he stops eating. For me, counting calories doesn’t work. I can’t remember the value of everything and after about three or four days of writing everything down on scrap pieces of paper in the kitchen, I want to scream and stop writing things down. But with eating through out the day and then a workout to subtract and have no idea where I am.
During the first week, I fluctuated up and down, but couldn’t break the 165 barrier. Frustrated and confused, I kept limiting calories and exercising every day, and drinking lots of water…. Yesterday, finally, after two weeks, I weighed in at 165. Today it is 166 again.
OH, just to be clear: My commitment is daily exercise and I’m going to apply Phase I of the South Beach Diet. The South Beach is perfect for me. It’s simple, healthy, and kicks my body into turbo calorie burning. I need the immediate results. I can’t wait to see what happens next although today I’m frustrated to not see results yet. To be sure, it didn’t help to eat some birthday cake last night. Strictly speaking I broke all the rules, but, I’m back on the plan today. Cheese and meat for breakfast. Lots of water. I woke up with a pick ax behind my eyeballs, which has been a reoccurring problem and Tom’s theory is I’m dehydrated.
More later on, the psychology of dieting and the South Beach program and why I like it.
Goal: 140 March 15th!
It’s been a while since I’ve posted.
Humbled. It isn’t often that I meet someone who I instinctively want to protect; to grab hold of and hold on tight. And take them home with me to keep them safe. Take them home to my warm house full of laughter and hugs, and a home cooked dinner at 6:00, with books, music and photographs, a warm cozy bed with a fluffy pillow and most importantly love.
I met that person today and he knows who he is. It seems overly dramatic to say I’ll never be the same, but I think that is true.
Perspective. My life with its ups and downs, even my struggles to heal my mental health, my life is good. I have shall we say ‘issues’ and I find it difficult to find balance, but my life has been a cake walk compared to so many people’s. And I am grateful.
I am loved unconditionally. I am accepted for who I am as a woman, a wife, a mother, a feminist, a person of faith, a white person, and a heterosexual. Oh sure, I didn’t exactly feel unconditionally loved by my parents, but I think in retrospect I was accepted, encouraged, and affirmed. I was safe (mostly.) Those things that are huge to a child. At a minimum, what every child deserves. But they deserve better than just food and shelter, they really do.
People need to be accepted. I am aware today how as you live and work around people you never know their challenges. They may not have the next meal, they may not have a place to live. They may not have anyone in their life that loves them unabashedly.
I keep thinking about how blind we can be. We need to care for those around us. Do we truly accept friends and family just as they are and not expect them to change for us or for any person or institution. I certainly don’t do this perfectly, but at least I am aware of my own propensity to want my kids to ‘be smart’ to ‘do better’ or ‘behave according to standards’ or ‘be x, y, or z.’ I’m aware of it and because of what I’ve been through, and because of people like the person I met today, I will continue to fight against that thing inside me that says ‘fit in,’ ‘don’t make choices that will alienate you from Society.’ Okay, I’m dancing around the issue of our children’s sexuality something we have no control over. Oh, I know there are debates about whether sexuality is nature or nurture, a choice or biological. I’m not having that conversation simply saying love each other damn it!.
Unconditionally loving others. It is a profoundly difficult way to live but so important.
Enough preaching.
A poem I wrote a while back about growing up NOT feeling loved.
It returned, again
The dream that continues to visit me
Night after night
Year after year,
Unbidden. Uninvited
Not unexpected, but unwelcome.
A dream that says
You are unwanted.
Question yourself.
Question love.
Doubt everything you know to be true.
Nothing is real.
A solitary thought that says
Night after night
In various, complicated dreams
You are Unlovely, unlovable.
The fragile peace that comes by day
Is broken during the dark hours of sleep.
As with all my poetry, this is written to be read ALOUD, slowly.
Motherhood is not simply a connection
from womb to life. It is that, and
a bond created by choice.
In the choosing, it is the care of another that ties you in a life giving way.
It cannot be fully understood, only carried out.
Many a day I am incomplete.
I question how I could be the one
doing the loving, the providing, the choosing of another.
Ah, then I realize, again and again,
motherhood isn’t perfection
nor accomplishment.
But it is in the choosing, daily.
Choosing to be the advocate, the provider, the buffer
between the world and this one child that I love.
As I sit on the floor with her.
As she sobs the sorrow of a thousand broken hearts.
As I think “who can I hurt” for causing this anguish?
As I consider the quiet relief that I want to confer,
likewise the pain I want to inflict on someone else;
As I think, I know the answer.
I am duty-bound to my child that I love
and to all children
to love. Destined to listen, to bring solace.
To uphold all in my path. And it is not glorious or praise-worthy.
It simply is a choice
of Motherhood.
Although it is not even possible to anticipate and prevent all pain
from this child, my child, any child;
I am beholden to all children,
to endure this quandary of motherhood.
Written by MHH, January 26, 2009
Logic & Imagination 