Category: My Story

eulogy to life


There was a time, when to wake with a pounding head

meant total indiscretion the night before.

On this day, the one year anniversary

of my choosing relief and power,

the day I rejected my empty Thirst

I can celebrate my life.

There is shame in being a drunk;

total confusion and self-contempt.

I do not remember to glorify it,

for it was pure wretchedness, and I still

sometimes feel disbelief that this is my story.

But I cannot, dare not, blot out the memories.

It happened.

There is  guilt, humiliation, self-disgust,

but I dare not forget.

I choose sobriety.

I choose to be aware of my cravings and needs.

I am an alcoholic who chooses  — every day — her Life.

What is suicide — picking up the glass knowing it is death, for me.


What is Life?

Awareness.

Humility.

Service.

Love.

Life is facing down my demons,

knowing the dark times will come.

Life, is wanting something more.

Power comes in the choosing.

Choosing more Love, choosing Life.

Even as I remember,

I choose this day to Live.

I choose my Life.

July 17, 2009

What I Didn’t Learn From My Parents … or Did I?

From my parents, I didn’t learn how to have or be a friend.

I didn’t learn to trust people.

I didn’t learn how to stick with a person, even if they are unpleasant or difficult, or to work at a relationship even if it is imperfect.

I learned how to be alone.

I learned how to mistrust.

I learned how to fear and to look for rejection.

I learned how to use people to get what I needed and wanted.

I learned how to break promises.  I learned to lie, mostly to myself.

I learned to be afraid, to find comfort in being alone, to be anxious, and to be unpredictable.

I learned to look strong, while I covered my fears with work, or illness, or alcohol, or sarcasm, or wit, or intelligence, or knowledge and arrogance, or competence, or whatever was near that made it go away, for a time.

I didn’t learn how to need, to depend on others, to be open, to give and take.  Me, me, me!  Always, what mattered was how everything impacts me!

I learned how to take from and use people — I didn’t think I had anything to give back.

Isolation equaled strength somehow in my parents.  Fear people, because they will let you down, hurt you, disappoint you, or even need you too much.

I didn’t learn from my parents and what I did, I am trying to unlearn.

Written 7/11,  Sunday, 2009

Tuesday, July 13

Ah, the wretchedness of focusing on yourself and your internal distress and grief.  Upon further thought I am truly ashamed.  How self-centered these thoughts are and how sorry I feel for myself at times.  Yes, all that happened but I also know, without a doubt, that what I learned and didn’t from my parents has made me the person I am today.

If anything, in the midst of my selfishness of thought, I am assured that I am not them.  I am my own person.  And although I am disgusted and ashamed of my parents’ behavior (and my own) at times,  it came from their own pain and disappointment with their parents.  My parents did not feel loved by their families, not a little, not a lot,seemingly not at all.  And although intellectually I know I was loved, it always came with a sense of conditions, whether spoken or not, that I could not live up to.  Not a little.  Not a lot.  Not at all.

I have made many, many mistakes already in my life.  My addiction to work at one point in my life, and even my giving in to an addiction to alcohol, and came from lineage of broken people.  Strength in the broken places was a mantra my father lived and I think he believedbut somehow he never changed; he never put a stop to passing on his pain, fear, isolation, and disappointments.

If I have any strength it comes from naming the sin of my selfishness.  To continue on hurting others, or even blaming, would be the ultimate lapse of character and so I take my weaknesses, my awareness of what I did not learn, and what I did and reach out.  For out of my fear, distrust and isolation come a raging and inconsolable need for Place.  For Belonging.  For a sense of Home, if you will, that I never knew as a child but crave as an adult. As I reach and extend my heart to others, I am trusting that we will each be strengthened by the risk-taking.

If it feels like jumping off a cliff, the terror unimaginably vivid, I am even more resolved! As I get outside of my doubts and fears, I can do something else with my life!  Sometimes that is as simple as answering the phone, returning a phone call or email, replying lovingly to an inquiry and a revealing a little more of myself, or more importantly caring enough to ask questions of others.

Isolation only brings what I seem to always be looking for, which is ‘proof’ of others’ betrayal.  I want others to reach toward me!  What I am learning is to get outside of myself, to consider others before myself.  Oh,I don’t do it perfectly, or even regularly, or even often enough; for the impulse to close in on myself is almost as natural as breathing.  And yet although I breathe, that is not being alive.  That is death in itself, to live hour-by-hour for myself and my own needs.  It is to others that I am called or else this life in not worthwhile, not a life worth living. And I do want to live fully, as complete and whole as I can be.

In the end, this isn’t about my parents.

It ends with my parents and begins with,

jumping off the cliff,

today.  Life in free fall is scary, but pretty great!

firsts

Originally uploaded by M e l o d y

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.

My first AA meeting




…

Originally uploaded by M e l o d y

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.

The Journey In Between

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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my poem: no dignity

There’s no dignity in panic.

It stops your heart from consuming any sensation, real or otherwise.

Your brain hums, but it’s got no tune. It is an off-key drone.

You can’t breathe, your lungs forgetting their purpose,like a pillow over your face, it suffocates.

Your feet are leaden; won’t walk, won’t work.

In fact, decency and decorum would help a lot right about now.

This moment, you wish was a memory.

But in fact, you have no magid wishes; not one, two or three.

Your brain, heart, lungs, legs are corrupted, having forgotten their purpose.

This is the simplest and worst of betrayals.

You are offensive even to yourself.  Sickened by your fear.

There’s no dignity in panic, nor any humanity or decency;

only a crippling,fractured, dismembered day,

hour-by-hour

endured.

No self-respect;Until somehow

Wisdom anchors to your soul.

And you let it go. Not to forget,

but for now to breathe, think, move until the next

most unwelcome panic.

4/15/2009

Written by Melody Harrison Hanson

I need a filling (a poem)


…Originally uploaded by M e l o d y

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

Addict

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.

Tom’s Music on Primetime CBS show

tomsmusic

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

Compulsivity and Change

Between stimulus and response, there is a space.

In that space lies our freedom and power to choose our response.

In our response lies our growth and our freedom.*

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 it’s seriously more familiar to stick my head in the sand, as they say, and just ignore the scale, my energy level, my moods, my low esteem for myself, and the good people in my life that love me and accept me.  Even as I write I can see how screwy it is.  But, it is….what it is.

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.

If I’ve learned anything about this alcohol addiction it is live for today.  Today is the one I can do something about, not yesterday, and not tomorrow.   Just this minute.   Make it count.

* The Seven Habits of Highly Effective Familes, Stephen R. Covey

Mastery of Life: About Face!

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!

1/16/09 168