A Trained Release Recipient

Photo by Alex Green on Pexels.com

The topic of this post popped up frequently in some pretty impactful places for me in the last few weeks. It all started when I shared my feelings in the post, “I am Not Okay – Stuck on Repeat.” Seeking out help from nutritionist and trainer, Denise Coots, spoke volumes about how lost I was feeling. I had allowed myself to get to the point where I lost touch with my self-value and was exhausted by the disconnect. I can honestly say that meeting with Denise and the kind support of others who read my post has bolstered me significantly and life has been much easier to keep up with ever since.

My friend Sheila told me that she really appreciated my post and related because she sees a therapist to help make sense of her emotions sometimes. Sheila and I agreed that the negative stigma of seeing a counselor is so unfair. She beautifully stated that sometimes we need someone separate from our everyday lives to help us release everything we are holding in. We need a “trained release recipient.” I told her I LOVED that idea and needed to share it!

The following evening, I had dinner with my friend Tricia, who happens to be a licensed therapist. She and I always have a terrific time talking about our families, but after every visit, we agree that our times together are good for our souls because we discuss whatever we are struggling with emotionally and professionally. I mentioned to Tricia the stereotypes that people have about seeing a professional counselor and the fact that many believe friends and family are enough. She told me that very stigma is a constant challenge in her career and stands in the way of her attempts to help others find the healing that they need. And sometimes the family or friends that people open up to are like Lucy, from The Peanuts cartoons. They are willing to listen for a price or their prescription for getting better is to get over it. Clearly, those are not “trained release recipients.”

Two days later, I said hello to a fellow parent watching his child at gymnastics. I could tell he was new and nervous. He wasn’t sure where to sit and kept a vigilant eye on his daughter. I asked how his day was going. He told me, in an agitated voice, that all the people watching those little girls made him nervous, but he had promised his daughter he would let her try gymnastics on the day that he had custody. It was a statement that shared A LOT of information about his situation.

He had several tattoos on his arms, including two from the Army. I thanked him for his service to our country. He turned to me and told me I was really smart. I wasn’t sure how my gratitude made me intelligent, but I thanked him for the compliment. He told me that he knew I was smart because I identified the one thing that meant something to him besides his daughter.

He immediately told me he moved to Missouri to be near his daughter because her mother was from here. Continuing, he told me that he was getting medical and psychological treatment at the local V.A. Hospital. Without prompting, he shared that he never thought a therapist could help him. He always thought going to a psychiatrist made him seem crazy, but the doctors there were helping him feel like he could be normal and maybe find love again someday. Wow! That was A LOT of unsolicited information. Clearly, this dad was seeking connections with others, and the inspiration about “trained release recipients” continued to come my way.

If you have found yourself in a situation where you feel completely lost or need a voice of reason that hasn’t already spoken to you, I encourage you to find a “trained release recipient” who will productively listen to your problems and guide you to solutions. There is nothing wrong with asking for help from a certified therapist, counselor, or nutritionist. Seek out someone who has the skills and training to help establish a healthier, happier existence. Positive purpose is often found when you connect with someone who has the expertise to motivate your intent and energy in productive ways. Let go of the stigma of just-get-over-it and get yourself a “trained release recipient.”

By: Melanie A. Peters

P.S. Charlie Brown was on to something when he stepped into Lucy’s office; he was just a little misguided. He should sue for false advertising.

Mustard-Seed Moments

Daily I complete what feels like a zillion, small tasks in hopes of making a significant difference in the lives of those around me. I put a whole lot of faith in the belief that I am doing the right things as a parent and wife and accomplishing all the roles God calls me to fill. Most of the time, I do not experience the euphoria of success, in particular when it comes to being a parent.

My kids torture one another. My little darlings fight over the MOST RIDICULOUS things. They forget stuff I consider important, like homework or chores. They treat our home as if is their personal dumpster to discard shoes, socks, food wrappers, soda bottles, and empty cups wherever they please. It is enough to make this mama’s heart hurt and ask, “Lord, am I doing anything right?”

All too often, I feel like saying, “Lord, I’ve got all kinds of seeds planted. When am I gonna move those mountains?”

I guess we have to consider what a “mountain” looks like because sometimes they aren’t as big as we expected in the beginning.

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The Circus Isn’t Going Anywhere – Wise Words Wednesday

Anne Lamott, Grace (Eventually): Thoughts on Faith

Recently, I stopped at a gift shop in hopes of finding a special present for my niece. It was a normal errand on a typical day, and I was pretty excited about the task. All of a sudden, a voice from my past called my name (literally). It was not a voice I expected or wanted to hear. The projector of the voice was someone who caused a lot of embarrassment and insecurity for me in the past.

I responded with a smile and answered all the questions thrown at me about my life now. Fortunately, I had to pick up my son from practice, so I said my goodbyes and got the heck out of there. The rest of my evening was filled with monkey mind memories swinging from one hurtful remembrance to another.

You know the type. The memory that pops up at 2:00 a.m. when you can’t shut your brain off or the voice across the room that causes your stomach to drop (not in a good way). Some memory monkeys are rabid and never stop attacking your thoughts, while others are sneaky and shimmy into your day without you realizing and then you, all of a sudden, are in full-on “can’t think about anything else mode.”

Here’s the good news. With time, forgiveness, and grace, we can pry those memory monkeys off our proverbial backs and send them packing.

Here’s the bad news. You can get the monkey off your back, but the circus never leaves town.

Anne Lammot wrote these wise words in her book, Grace (Eventually): Thoughts on Faith, when I read this I knew Anne was on to something.

When we do find the strength to move forward, it seems like that pesky memory monkey always finds a way to pop up in our day, whether it be in our thoughts or in the checkout line. The “circus” could be the result of living in a small town or the fact that your mind is its own three-ring extravaganza of emotions and you are the head clown.

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A Big Butt Goodbye

Teaching kids about death is one of the trickiest tasks parents face. I believe we can help kids through the tough lessons in life by allowing them to be an active part of the grieving process. This invites our children to voice their individual ideas for coping and moving on after a loss. Sometimes we can find inspiration, comfort, and joy in the contributions of our kiddos while experiencing times of sadness.

My friend Mandy shared one particular experience that occurred when her son and daughter were younger. Their family had a kitten that was born with severe defects in its spine. The kids named the kitten Joey. As Mandy retold the tale, Claire interjected that the kitten had a really big butt. As kittens with severe defects will do, Joey crossed over the rainbow bridge to pet heaven soon after he was born.

When it came time to bury Joey, Liam asked what they were supposed to do at a cat funeral. Mandy wracked her brain and said, “I think we share the good memories we had with Joey and sing songs or say things that remind us of the happier times with him.”

Liam told Joey he would always remember carrying him around and playing with him every morning. Liam would never forget sweet Joey. When it came time for Claire to speak, she chose the happiest song she could think of and in her tiny toddler voice busted out, “I like big butts and I cannot lie…”

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How Did the Holy Family Figure It Out?

It’s crazy how often we find ourselves praying for one thing and then the words of someone we love or respect smack us right upside the head with the truth about what we need in place of what we thought we wanted. This past Sunday, I entered church in a very snippy mood. My children had aggravated me to the point I was not feeling very faithful. I kneeled in the pew and prayed for God to help me handle my little heathens.

It just so happened that this Sunday was the feast of the Holy Family and the readings were about what God asked of Mary and Joseph, how Mary held all the worries and wonders in her heart, and how Jesus grew smart, strong, and full of grace. Our priest Father Tony is one of the most relatable pastors we could ever ask for. He started his homily by speaking on how happy it made him to see the way our community always comes together and the work we do to raise our children well. He went on to say that he knew not all families were made the same. He mentioned the “nuclear” families, the blended families, the families made up of grandparents raising grandchildren, foster families, and any variety of “dysfunctional” families possible. He told us of his estranged brother and how it hurt him to think of his brother’s decision to remove himself from their lives.

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Swamped in a Hive

Have you ever tried to have a conversation with a parent who is inundated with the behaviors and requests of their children? It’s like trying to locate the queen bee in a hive of crazy. Nobody is concerned about or can comprehend what’s being said, focus is going in a million directions, and the constant buzz is enough to drive everyone in and outside of the hive crazy.

This past weekend I witnessed my friend, Jamie, at the heart of her own wild hive. We were hanging out at a friend’s shop, and for some unknown-to-our-children reason trying to have a conversation.

While Jamie balanced her son on one leg, her daughter traipsed passed walking her baby doll by the hair. Without warning, the baby doll leapt onto Jamie’s vacant leg and began marching up her arm and then rested on her head. Shortly there after, Jamie’s husband asked her about something he couldn’t remember, and she replied calmly with whatever he needed to know. Barely skipping a beat, Jamie continued on with our conversation. After finishing her sentence to me, she politely asked her daughter to take the doll to play somewhere else. Her daughter’s response, “But I need you to be my jungle gym.”

Well, there you had it.

Jamie was needed.

She was a comfy place to sit for her son, reference library for her husband, an apparatus for her daughter’s baby doll activities, and a hub of conversation for me.

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Biblical Surprise – Wise Words Wednesday

Fifth Grade homework can be tough. Last week my son’s computer teacher assigned an “About Me” Google Slides presentation. Each slide had a theme and criteria for creation. Of course, there were the “My Family” and “Favorite Hobby” slides, but the one slide that stuck out to me on the rubric was, “Favorite Scripture Verse.”

While this is my son’s sixth year attending a Catholic school, and we attend church every week, I wasn’t sure my son knew any particular Bible verse, much less which is his favorite.

While making dinner, switching laundry, and helping with other homework, I left him to work on the presentation, and waited for his cry for help.

As expected, his call for “Mom” rang out when he hit the scripture slide. His plea was followed by a demanding, “I need the Bible.” (Insert sarcastic Mom statement about needing more than just the Bible in his life, followed by son’s annoyed eye roll.)

After taking a deep breath and mentally preparing for a meltdown, I asked if he knew any Bible verses that he liked.

To my Biblical surprise, he responded with, “Duh, Mom, I know it’s in Exodus; I just don’t know the exact number.”

Exodus?!? That seemed like an unusual place to select a favorite verse, but who am I to question divine inspiration.

My 10-year-old proceeded to tell me that his favorite verse is when Moses parted the sea allowing the Israelites to flee Egypt unharmed. This is a very powerful scene, but I wasn’t sure what made it inspiring to him. At the risk of being slaughtered by yet another violent eye roll, I asked what it was about the parting of the sea that stood out.

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Walls or Bridges? – Wise Words Wednesday

As I listen to my children bicker and fight over a kickball game in our basement, I am frustrated by the unkind words they use and the mean way they pick apart one another’s attempts to kick, run, and throw. It hurts me to hear them use such forceful language when it’s supposed to be a fun game.

What I have to remind myself is that their play is a way to learn the basics of the game, how to handle conflict, and ways to work with others while being competitive. Those viscous kickball games are growing opportunities for turning thrown stones into bridges for better play and successful communication in the future. (That doesn’t make their taunting any easier to hear though.)

Unfortunately, my kiddos’ emotional “rock collecting” has not been limited to the jabs and insults of their siblings. My children (like all kids) have come home with hurt in their eyes and frustration in their hearts from things said and done at school and sports practices. Seeing my kids hurt by the words and actions of others is probably the hardest part of being a parent. These challenges have forced me to dig deep into my repertoire of comfort and advice, but also add to the School of Hard Knocks’ curriculum as my children earn their diplomas in adolescence.

“When people throw rocks, you can either build walls or bridges.
Be a bridge builder”
– Lynda Mullaly Hunt

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“The Pissy Prayer”

All too often I’ve heard that if you pray for patience the Lord will test it. I take pride in the patience I feel towards children, animals, and tedious tasks. I’m not always so patient with laziness, meanness, and ignorance.

Lately, I have witnessed laziness and unkindness in amounts exceeding my limits. In spite, of my prayers for peace, grace, and patience, the will to tolerate such selfish behavior has had me thinking about an alternative intent for my prayers.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m still asking the Lord to help the flawed human race find peace, generosity, and compassion, but every once in a while, I want to pray “The Pissy Prayer.”

Now this isn’t a prayer sanctioned by any church or liturgical governing body, but it is one that I think a lot of us could benefit from. (I made “The Pissy Prayer” up myself.)

The Pissy Prayer
By Melanie A. Peters

Dear Lord,


Grant me permission to be pissy about insignificant things that others blow way out of proportion.

Grant me fussiness when friends and family fail to recognize and appreciate all the blessings you have bestowed upon them.

In your most holy name, I ask that you help me through this hissy fit and guide me as I lose my good and capable mind over whatever has worked its way into my heart.

But most of all, Lord, grant forgiveness for my imperfections, because that’s what I need to feel and demonstrate in this most imperfect world.

Amen.

I know what you are thinking.

This sounds a bit blasphemous.

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Herding Turkeys… : An Emotional Chore

All in a day’s work….

That’s what I should call it, but have you ever tried to herd turkeys? There is nothing run-of-the-mill about herding turkeys once they’ve escaped from the barn.

On a day when I had the privilege of helping top out buildings*, there was one barn door that just wouldn’t stay on its hinge leaving a gap as we made our rounds through the building. It was through that gap that nine turkeys made their grand getaway.

The thing about turkeys though is that they are not very intelligent and tend to run wild in every direction before making their way back to where they started.

In the case of these nine runaways, they hovered around the outside of the barn because they could hear their buddies inside. Unfortunately for me, they huddled about half way down the barn, and I had to deftly sneak up behind them and shoo them to the other end of the range house. Once we made our haphazard way back to the other end of the building, these fugitives found safety being back in the flock.

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