What, by some, would be called the “R” rated version but so powerful.
There is nothing “R” about it unless you count REAL.
This one is “G” in case you prefer.
But it’s the lyrics that are the point anyway….
Thank You by Alanis Morissette
Lyrics
How ’bout getting off these antibiotics
How ’bout stopping eating when I’m full up
How ’bout them transparent dangling carrots
How ’bout that ever elusive kudo
Thank you India
Thank you terror
Thank you disillusionment
Thank you frailty
Thank you consequence
Thank you thank you silence
How ’bout me not blaming you for everything
How ’bout me enjoying the moment for once
How ’bout how good it feels to finally forgive you
How ’bout grieving it all one at a time
Thank you India
Thank you terror
Thank you disillusionment
Thank you frailty
Thank you consequence
Thank you thank you silence
The moment I let go of it was the moment
I got more than I could handle
The moment I jumped off of it
Was the moment I touched down
How ’bout no longer being masochistic
How ’bout remembering your divinity
How ’bout unabashedly bawling your eyes out
How ’bout not equating death with stopping
Thank you India
Thank you providence
Thank you disillusionment
Thank you nothingness
Thank you clarity
Thank you thank you silence
I guess every generation has its war. For mine, it was Vietnam.
I was so angry about that war and I could not have told you why………other than my well-intentioned, but naive Flower Child commitment to nonviolence.
Even though I could not have justified it with any political understanding, I marched and protested and wrote passionate letters and participated in every way I could think of…believing with my whole being that we could actually stop the war.
Though I lost my innocence back then, as well as many friends, I never lost my belief in pacifism.
It took going to the Vietnam Memorial Wall in DC some time in the early 1980’s for me to finally be able to make room in my black and white thinking about the Vietnam war. I had never even considered how many of those names on the Wall represented men and women who chose, out of honor and deep-held passions of their own, to fight for our country.
I was still biased, and so angry on that trip. I made pencil etchings of 17 names, “brothers” from my childhood, that had served in Vietnam…but did not make it back home. Each one of them had been drafted.
Now, this print of Lee Teter’s Vietnam Reflections War Memorial Poster sits in the most prominent position in my office/Group Room. Everyone who comes to me for therapy is greeted by this powerful image. Such a small homage to all those we lost, in that war, as well as because of that war.
We didn’t know back then what we know now. So many of us would do it all differently…
especially the welcoming home part….
This is one of my favorite videos ever.
I ask for forgiveness for not knowing this back then.
And I dedicate this post, with deep gratitude for their service, to the following people I am blessed to have had in my life. Most, but not all, served during the Vietnam War.
Colonel Louis Ford (Tad)-United States Air Force
Thomas Alvin Bessey-National Guard Mounted Cavalry
Jean McMaster Bessey- US Navy WAVES
Captain Brian Lee Ford-US Air Force
James Fletcher-US Army
Jimmy Schack
Mary Paananen
David Taylor
Joe LaFayette
Eddie Leachman
Ari Cowan
Bret Burkholder
Vince Horan
Saralee Blum
Jim Sorensen
Ron Holst
Michael Adams
Dale Beuning
Colonel James Kowalski
Kirk Boettcher
Mriana Williams
Richard Hartman
James Malone
Shawn Dennis
Colonel James Sampson
Steve Dryden
Don Ulmer
Lou Chirillo
Dave Bartholomew
Jason Bogar
Colonel Bill Head
Captain Roy Gurd
Jerry and Jennifer Niehaus
Carol’s first husband
Lenore’s first husband
(I know I am leaving out some names…so sorry)
PS Sorry I could not get WordPress to work yesterday so this post is a day late…
I cannot add a single song to the theme for this week for Helen Vahdati’s weekly challenge. The one she chose would have been mine also. Please treat yourself to a visit to her site (and check out my comment at the bottom).
Especially for you Helen! I have a great story about this song but when I looked it up, I found that many, many others do also.
Here’s mine.
To become a practitioner in the kind of therapy I do takes a ton of personal work first.
You have to practice what you preach. You have to model behavior you hope to see in others. You have to be impeccable….ALL THE TIME! Not just in front of your clients.
After 30 years of practice, I figured I had this one down, until my wonderful therapist/mentor/teacher/”Mom” passed away! She is the person who first shared this song with me and it became my anthem for myself, and eventually for many clients. But when Elaine died, I had forgotten all about this song.
At her memorial, with hundreds of people there, someone told me they got a “message” from Elaine that I was supposed to go up to the front of the room and lead the group in a song.
I said “WHAT??”
First of all, I do NOT sing in front of people after a traumatic high school event where my choir teacher broke my heart and spirit by telling me to please just lipsync because my voice was so bad.
And second of all, how was I supposed to know what song!!
I resisted…but my training kicked in (and maybe a little “fake it ’til you make it” self-love).
I’m not one to ignore channeling or messages from beyond or whatever it was, so I marched up there, and without a second thought, I belted out THIS VERY SONG! Clear, loud, and, later I was told, even on key!! I lead the group in singing several rounds because anyone who knew Elaine, knew this beautiful song! (I still get goose bumps remembering this moment!)
That action, compelled somehow by someone else’s belief in me, finished one more piece of work for me that had lingered all these years!
Close your eyes when you listen and imagine these words coming from the person you most need to hear them from.
One of my “areas of expertise” as a Psychotherapist is relationships, but do not take the following as professional advice. Certain decisions are 100% personal.
Something I have seen so many times is outright lying, and I still don’t understand it.
It’s one thing to engage, for example, in “cheating” in a relationship. It’s a whole different level of yuck to lie about it, straight to someone’s face…even AFTER you’ve been caught!
I can almost understand the act of being unfaithful…there is almost always a perceived element of being carried away by something bigger than oneself, feeling helpless in the face of something, etc.
But the lying part…willful…crazy-making…calculated…that’s the part that would do me in. I couldn’t cheat because I would suffocate under the incredible crushing weight of the having to lie part.
And the lying part ends up to be the most damaging part of the whole thing, not the act of infidelity itself.
People who do finally do tell the truth about cheating can rarely offer good explanations.
Even my own former husband, after 13 years of what I thought was wedded bliss, only had this excuse to offer when I asked him why.
“Well, I thought I could get away with it.”
So if you wandered and did not get caught, think long and hard before indulging in that guilt-relieving dump some people feel compelled to do under the guise of total honesty, or “coming clean”. It is usually just for the cheater to get out from under the hefty guilt-weight of his or her actions. Or worse, it’s a passive aggressive move to make sure your indiscretion is known so it can actually hurt your partner.
That is your shit to carry…possibly forever. So shut the fuck up and live with it. Deal with the real issues!
But if you havebeen busted, tell the truth, for God’s sake!!
Don’t gaslight someone you supposedly love.
End of obviously biased lecture of the day!
Lyrics from Google Play
There ain’t no use in me trying to tell you how I feel
’cause what I feel ain’t what you’re feeling
I don’t know what we did wrong
I just know if you come home
I ain’t gonna let you break my heart again
There ain’t no use in me trying to find out where you’ve been
Where you’ve been ain’t where I’m going
’cause if I ask you where you’ve been
The hurting starts and it don’t end
So I ain’t gonna let you break my heart again, no
I ain’t gonna let you break my heart again, no no
Tears don’t become me
Pain ain’t my friend
It seems like you enjoy my crying, baby
You always said that I was strong
But I believe that you were wrong
Lately, God knows, I have been trying
There ain’t no use in you trying to kiss away the hurt, baby
’cause it hurts where it’s deep down inside of me and it’s hiding
If you decide you’re coming home
You walk in, it won’t be like before
’cause I ain’t gonna let you break my heart again, no
Ain’t gonna let you break my heart again, no no
My life is FILLED with “Collage”. I love surrounding myself with collections in categories.
The are each a Collage I made for someone else (top to bottom). A jewelry box filled with the jewelry pieces from a dear friend’s Mom, Memory Boxes for my Grandsons containing tiny symbols and souvenirs from their adventures, and photo cards.
My dear friend who gave me her mother’s jewelry pieces and old jewelry box above inspired me to facilitate a Collaging for Grief Workshop. My participants would collect the small things they couldn’t part with after a death. We would gather together to put all the trinkets in collage shadow boxes, all the while telling each other the stories behind the pieces. It was a wonderful way to let go of the large piles of things we can be left with when a loved one dies, but still end up with a lovely memorial piece of art in their honor.
I have posted before the embarrassing proof that most of the walls in my home are giant Collages
This is a series I called “Toy Baskets”. Trinkets from my own childhood. If you are of a similar age you might recognize Monopoly, Pick up Stix, Tiddly Winks, etc.
More Wall Collages from my home and Office
I could never stand to throw away the beautiful cards my clients have given me over 40 years in private practice, so I would always turn them into collages and display them. They so enjoyed spotting a piece of a card I had saved from them.
And many of my clients have been artists so I have many beautiful handmade pieces.
This is titled “a Million Tears” (cried in therapy). Each tear hand-inked with a blue pen
This one below is my favorite. It was when my practice was HUGE. I had 8 groups of 10 people each (5 therapy, 1 couples’ group, a Graduate Group, and a training group). The artist who did this mixed media sort of collage told me it represented the path of my heart through my professional life, with many, many connections shooting off into the world, like stars. I was so moved by this. The piece always remains a focal point of my current Wall Collage display. Hand done painting, stitching, gluing, etc. (I especially love this piece since my current practice is only 3 clients.) It’s so sweet to remember that I used to have a larger impact on my world…..
She told me this central line was my heart path….connected to and spreading out to the world, each star and sequin representing a life I had touched. It’s taken me years to accept (not my focus at the time) that I really did get to love a lot of people!!
Author note: Sorry for bad photos and for lack of editing. I wanted to get this in before the new challenge happens today!
OK, here’s a story for you about Bridge, not a bridge or the bridge, although there are significant bridges like that in my life. I have even posted about some of those.
No, this is a story about the card game, Bridge. But be warned! There are threetragedies in this story and only twohappy endings.
For many years, I held onto a beautiful treasure that belonged first to my grandmother and was passed down to my mother. It was a lovely novelty set of China, used only for Bridge Tournaments! A set of 4 plates, one shaped to represent each suit in a deck of cards, and a tea cup to nestle on to each plate. The plate below is a “Spade”. The beautiful shades of silvery blue with goldish orange accents always grabbed my attention.
There was also a clever stacking teapot, creamer and sugar container.
found this on Etsy
A stunning collection really, and I carried it around with me for more than 30 years, only occasionally unearthing it from it’s elaborate safety packaging, just to look at it.
Tragedy number ONE: In my 30’s while moving, a well-meaning helper placed the very special treasure box containing my mother’s Bridge china set, as well as a pile of antique handpainted, glass Christmas Tree ornaments, on the trunk of my car. My friend was sure I would see it there before driving off to the new house.
I didn’t.
TOPPLE, CRASH, SMASH, CRUNCH, and all that was left was a huge box that when lifted, made that nauseating, tell-tale sound of broken glass. (Silent, major profanity here remembering the event. I did NOT keep those swear words to myself at the time though.)
I was as crushed as all those shattered heirlooms!
The happy ending for that tragedy is two-fold. One plate (the “Spade” in the photo above) and two teacups were unscathed! AND, a few years later, I met this woman, a talented potter, who took all the broken pieces of the Bridge Tea set (of COURSE, I had not thrown them away!!) and “mosaiced” them onto small clay flower pots, so I could put lovely, growing things in them.
(As I write this, I am remembering one of my favorite novels called Broken for You by Stephanie Kallos. A great read partly about broken china and wonderful concept!)
Tragedy numberTWO: I have been complaining on my blog that I lost my camera. I even let this loss prevent me from blogging for several weeks!! (I mean, what is a post without visual aids, right?)
I did try last Wednesday to use my phone to photograph the above plate for this Bridge Post. Lousy shots so I was grieving for my old friend even more.
I loved my camera. Just a very small, simple point and shoot Canon, but with the best telephoto and macro capabilities of its generation. I had become intimate with this camera, familiar with all its quirks and loving it anyway. And it knew all the most moving moments of my life, first hand. So the loss has hurt. No idea where it went to, but we have recently moved from the top half of the house to the bottom to make room for my son and grandsons, so I kept thinking I had just packed it somewhere and that it would turn up…but it didn’t! It was nowhere! Another heartbreak.
The happy ending? Just yesterday, while facilitating my new Women’s Art and Support Group, I was presenting the day’s activity: “crafting art out of things you already have around your home”.
I LOVE photography. I have since I was in the 4th grade, snapping away with my little Brownie camera. I didn’t get to be any good at it until these more modern digital options came around. But that’s only because I can afford to take a million pictures now, knowing that somewhere among the plethora of lousy shots, might be a surprise.
Anyway, one of my favorite hobbys for gift making and the occasion Craft Fair is to use my favorite photos for handmade greeting cards.
Three examples of cards I’ve made.
Well, I opened the box I keep the finished cards in and Voila! There was my camera!! It had been hiding right there where it belonged!! I cried and had to excuse myself from group to go tell James I found it because I knew he’d been plotting to buy me a new one.
I LOVED this happy ending!
Tragedy number THREE: My Mom died when I was young so her keepsakes still mean a lot to me. Those China pieces are precious, not just because they are beautiful, but also because they are a reminder to me of the amazing woman my mother was.
The first half of my life with her, my Mom was all involved in motherhood, house-wifing, PTA, her new church, and her favorite, playing Bridge at her Women’s Club in La Jolla. Apparently Mom was a secret Champion. Taught by her church upbringing that she should never brag, we didn’t even know the trips she was taking up the West Coast were because she kept winning huge competitions in Tournament Bridge! (She did finally tell us shyly about beating Raquel Welch’s Mom at Bridge at her local Women’s Club though.)
She would bring home souvenirs for her daughters from her mysterious trips. The hotel rooms were loaded with soaps, lotions, sewing kits, etc) and from the tournaments, lots of Cracker Jax-type charms. Tiny metal and plastic animals, cars, crowns, keys and little people. I never understood the charms and figured maybe they won them or used them to bet with or something?? Anyway, she seemed happy and lots of folks were drawn to her!
my sisters and I with Mom, not long before she died…
The last half of my time with my her was painful. To my sisters and me, as her children, we suffered from her depression and alcoholism, but it must have been unimaginable for her. Her last few years alive, she just really did not want to be here…period.
When I was a youngish teen, she tried for that big “Final Check Out” twice, only to be rescued from her pill-induced coma’s. The third time, she wasn’t taking any chances and used a much more reliable method, a gun. She finally succeeded. Gone from her pain.
No happy ending there…bridge burned! Period.
But I do have to say that her life, the way she knew who she was, and the courageous way she tried again and again to find a way to be herself in a world that repeatedly stomped on her, have been a non-stop inspiration to me. She left the church her family was adamantly committed to. She joined the navy in the 1940’s, almost unheard of for women. She tried being the domestic handmaid she was programmed to be in her family. And finally, she struck out on her own, still determined and still searching, until her own chemistry got the better of her and she finally succumbed to the only answer she could find. To me her life shines brightly, full of examples and lessons to learn.
As Don Henley says in his wonderful song, “My Thanksgiving”,
“Sometimes you get the best light from a burning bridge.”
