Investing Emotions and Getting Burned

             When I was younger I remember psyching myself into believing I didn’t care.  I didn’t care about boys or dating.  I didn’t care about peers or school.  I didn’t care if plans fell through.  I knew it was wrong.  I knew it was unhealthy to deprive myself of feeling any other emotion. I just knew that if I could convince myself that I believed I didn’t care it would be so much easier to handle than disappointment or rejection.  It was.  It truly was.  This heartache and turmoil is such a bunch of crap that most anybody would rather do without.  We’re told the sad/bad/hard emotions gives us strength.  Boloney!!!  Disappointment and heartache bite big time!

            When Jenna was younger we befriended a family that consisted mostly of Khonnie and her two children.  Dennis was gone for the most part driving trucks across the country.  Their children never saw the inside of a public school building as they were both home schooled.  I think her youngest was four years older than Jenna.  Oh, but they had a connection.  All of them did.  She loved them and they loved Jenna.  I thought we were good friends for a couple of years and then something happened that made Khonnie snap.

            We had been out walking and Jenna was in dire need of a nap.  Khonie's youngest wanted to play with Jenna and kept on prodding her.  I kindly asked him to leave her alone.  But he kept add it. I did not feel it my place to discipline but Khonnie was not doing anything to discourage his behavior.  Perhaps I raised my voice at him?  I don't remember. I had told the family earlier that I was taking Jenna to the aquatic museum and they could accompany us if they’d like, my treat.  But Jenna would have to take a nap first and perhaps if she had been left alone she would fall asleep.  Khonnie saw this as a threat, decided to no longer walk with us and took her children home. 

            When I cry I like to keep my emotions to myself because when I try sharing, I blubber more, I go through more Kleenex and I tend to lose huge amounts of sleep (not that I have ever had the best sleeping habits to begin with).  Khonnie evidently called Roland to tell him how mean I was and he brought home some flowers and tried to comfort me.  I felt bad that I was being comforted with a doting husband when hers was rarely even around – and I doubt that he ever doted at that.

            After that it was off again on again with her flippant behavior and attitude.  I finally had to say,

 

“Enough!  My heart can’t handle this.”

 

Roland, Jenna and I had moved to Oregon the summer of 2015 – about six to eight weeks before two of our granddaughters were born.  Both daughters-in-law seemed supportive about the move.  However once the babies came my eldest daughter-in-law turned into Sybil (a case of multi-personality for those who have not seen or read).  She unfriended me on facebook at least twice and would block me each time.  The second time she blocked herself she had also gotten a hold my son’s account and blocked him from my facebook account as well.  I went through a whole array of emotions during that entire ordeal.  What I didn’t make a connection to was her on meds  (here).  

I had never considered how drugs can have major side effects that while possibly taking care of the problem at hand may have empowerment over one's mind that isn’t controlled.  When I think about it, I have been disoriented due to lack of medication or the medication itself.  I would think that kind of rationalization might help the situation – but it doesn’t.  It still sucks to be treated with such an ill manner by someone – even if it’s not intentional. 

Not only did I feel emotionally scarred by Jeanie’s actions but had unwillingly allowed myself to relive my days with Khonnie.  The emotional stress I felt with Khonnie did not prepare me for any heart-bleeding turmoil I would feel with Jeanie.  Jeanie’s flippancy only added fuel to the fire.  I took sleeping medicine but it didn’t help. I was emotionally drained inside and out.  And I don’t want to be an emotional wreck in front of Jenna.  She is positively happy.  I don’t want this anguish I have felt to bring her down.

Seven years between the two and now (five years later) I have just experienced the latest attack.  I knew it was the meds talking.  But there were so many parallels between the latest (nice way to wrap up 2020) and Jeanie that I had gone from hurt to angry within only a couple of days.  I had gone into more detail with this initial post created on December 18, 2020 but have removed the details after three months.  I don't need to remember the details.  I need to forget.

Somewhere Between Eden and Gethsemane

        A garden, by definition, is either a cultivated plot of ground or a gathering place such as a park which is generally adorned with plants and trees.  I guess I have never considered the definition until quite recently.  We had our Stake Conference this weekend, and one of the speakers mentioned two specific gardens found in the scriptures and discussed the symbolic differences between them.

          The Garden of Eden, as mentioned in Geneses,          is outlined as a paradise.  We see paintings of fruit and vegetation, peace and waterfalls, a beautiful place where everything is tranquil.  I guess it represents a kind of perfection.

          The Garden of Gethsemane, as portrayed by each of the gospels, does not have the same appeal.  Paintings often depict a drab setting with perhaps a few barren-looking trees, a hard rock or boulder, uncultivated dirt - it appears to be the opposite of the Garden of Eden.  There is no tranquility.  It represents hardships.  It represents trials.  There is sadness in Gethsemane and it takes faith to endure just being there.

          My youngest son seems to live in Eden for the most part.  He allows discouraging thoughts to roll off his back.   He tries to coax others to come into Eden by waving to them and showing them what the garden has to offer. Sometimes I have questioned whether he has been to  Gethsemane.  I know he's seen it. I don't know he's willing to leave his comfort zone to physically pull others out of Gethsemane.  I could be wrong.

          My middle son fluctuates between the two gardens.  He seems happy and content with one, but then something will set him off and he will mope around in the other.  And then there's my eldest who unfortunately has spent too many years in the Garden of Gethsemane and continues to delve deeper into the garden instead of trying to get out.

          Often his way of thinking (or lack thereof) remind me of John Steinbeck's character "Lennie Small" from Of Mice and Men.  Lennie is sweet for the most part, is seen as uneducated and slow-minded.  He doesn't mean to be harmful to anyone, but sometimes he gets frustrated and defensive when he is unable to communicate his thoughts to others.  I don't think that Biff is quite that far gone, but he tends to forget things he once believed. 

        Often our conversations are (and have been) like beating our heads against a brick wall.  I do believe that he would become bored with Eden in a matter of time, but I don't enjoy watching him struggling in Gethsemane, and I don't know how to help him.  Nor do I know how to comfort his mother-in-law who has visited Gethsemane more times than I have.

          I understand the need for trials.  I understand the need  for peace.  I'd like to see all of my children find their common ground between the two gardens.  I'd like that for everyone.