Friday Morning Inspiration – Marian Griffey

Good morning, everyone ~

It’s only 1:48a.m. as I start this week’s email. The household is sleeping, the neighborhood is silent, and just for now I can pretend that the whole world is at peace. I’m glad to be awake/experiencing such a momentary good feeling, having easy thoughts in my mind.

Stream late night drive by dLWilliam | Listen online for free on SoundCloud

Each time I wake, my first thought is: “Still here!” There have been numerous times since the second week of September that I doubted I would still be here at morning’s light. Many more times I would have chosen not to be. In my lifetime, I have been raped, beaten, mugged, drugged without my consent. I have experienced natural childbirth, broken bones, strangulation, and countless heart breaks. Life brings us to our knees in many ways, drags us to the edge of death, exposes us to the many ways in which humans can/do die. My experiences have been mild compared to many others; yet, the thought/feeling of death as a way to escape indescribable pain remains the same for all humans.

I'm Still Here Poem on Encouragementpraise by Louse Dance | Etsy

“Still here” may not be so homogenous. I’ve read stories, first-hand accounts from survivors of holocaust, genocide, uprising, slavery from every corner of the globe/from people of all color/race/creed. The locations/circumstances may differ; the thoughts/feelings are strikingly similar.

To be captured by pain, held captive by disease/injury, subjected to brutality of body/mind/spirit is a common theme throughout human history. So too the theme of love/kindness/compassion. Sometimes, the two themes are the same “coin” of human nature, inseparable.

The author Terry Tempest Williams states in her book, “Red — Passion and Patience in the Desert”: “The landscape that makes you vulnerable, also makes you strong.”

In that very personal, inner landscape of pain, even the strongest amongst us can be brought to vulnerable landscapes of thought/feelings. Surviving, however, is not the same thing as thriving. Only when we know/feel/believe that we are thriving do we feel strong inside ourselves. Sometimes, if not always, in order to know/feel/believe in our strength/thriving, we need outside validation.

Moving Caregivers from Surviving To Thriving

Through my own personal ordeal with almost constant pain for the past 4 months, validation from others has been the power to keep me “still here”. You, my beloved tribe of family/friends, have provided that. To say “thank you” seems woefully inadequate in balancing out the scales of equity. Thank you, one-n-all! I’m “still here” and beginning to think/ feel stronger. It’s going to be at least several weeks or months more before full recovery. Celebrate the baby-steps with me as this journey continues. As my dad would say: “We’re all put here on Earth to help each other.” Thanks for propping me up!

Thank You Images, Stock Photos & Vectors | Shutterstock

Included in that list of “thank you” recipients, I need to acknowledge the outreach support of the ACPA home office. Not only has the website offered many articles (theACPA.org), but also several staff members have stayed in contact via email/Facebook. My supervisor, Scott Farmer, is starting a virtual group available to any support group member nationwide. No one needs to suffer alone/in silence. There are others ready/willing to help prop up anyone in need of feeling stronger than their pain, needing to think/feel again that vital spark of thriving despite life’s challenges.

The landscape of pain that makes us vulnerable, is also the landscape peopled with support to help us feel strong again. Strong enough to say: “Still here!” with a tone of gratitude.

I know there are some members of our Group who do not have access to email. If you know someone in that category, share a printout of the weekly mass email with them. Call or text them with the topic of the week, inviting a discussion. It’s one way to help others remember that they are “still here”, part of this most wonderful tribe. In these uncertain times, having a tribe to call one’s own can make all the difference between surviving and thriving.

Good morning, everyone ~

It’s only 1:48a.m. as I start this week’s email. The household is sleeping, the neighborhood is silent, and just for now I can pretend that the whole world is at peace. I’m glad to be awake/experiencing such a momentary good feeling, having easy thoughts in my mind.

Each time I wake, my first thought is: “Still here!” There have been numerous times since the second week of September that I doubted I would still be here at morning’s light. Many more times I would have chosen not to be. In my lifetime, I have been raped, beaten, mugged, drugged without my consent. I have experienced natural childbirth, broken bones, strangulation, and countless heart breaks. Life brings us to our knees in many ways, drags us to the edge of death, exposes us to the many ways in which humans can/do die. My experiences have been mild compared to many others; yet, the thought/feeling of death as a way to escape indescribable pain remains the same for all humans.

“Still here” may not be so homogenous. I’ve read stories, first-hand accounts from survivors of holocaust, genocide, uprising, slavery from every corner of the globe/from people of all color/race/creed. The locations/circumstances may differ; the thoughts/feelings are strikingly similar.

To be captured by pain, held captive by disease/injury, subjected to brutality of body/mind/spirit is a common theme throughout human history. So too the theme of love/kindness/compassion. Sometimes, the two themes are the same “coin” of human nature, inseparable.

The author Terry Tempest Williams states in her book, “Red — Passion and Patience in the Desert”: “The landscape that makes you vulnerable, also makes you strong.”

In that very personal, inner landscape of pain, even the strongest amongst us can be brought to vulnerable landscapes of thought/feelings. Surviving, however, is not the same thing as thriving. Only when we know/feel/believe that we are thriving do we feel strong inside ourselves. Sometimes, if not always, in order to know/feel/believe in our strength/thriving, we need outside validation.

Through my own personal ordeal with almost constant pain for the past 4 months, validation from others has been the power to keep me “still here”. You, my beloved tribe of family/friends, have provided that. To say “thank you” seems woefully inadequate in balancing out the scales of equity. Thank you, one-n-all! I’m “still here” and beginning to think/ feel stronger. It’s going to be at least several weeks or months more before full recovery. Celebrate the baby-steps with me as this journey continues. As my dad would say: “We’re all put here on Earth to help each other.” Thanks for propping me up!

Included in that list of “thank you” recipients, I need to acknowledge the outreach support of the ACPA home office. Not only has the website offered many articles (theACPA.org), but also several staff members have stayed in contact via email/Facebook. My supervisor, Scott Farmer, is starting a virtual group available to any support group member nationwide. No one needs to suffer alone/in silence. There are others ready/willing to help prop up anyone in need of feeling stronger than their pain, needing to think/feel again that vital spark of thriving despite life’s challenges.

The landscape of pain that makes us vulnerable, is also the landscape peopled with support to help us feel strong again. Strong enough to say: “Still here!” with a tone of gratitude.

I know there are some members of our Group who do not have access to email. If you know someone in that category, share a printout of the weekly mass email with them. Call or text them with the topic of the week, inviting a discussion. It’s one way to help others remember that they are “still here”, part of this most wonderful tribe. In these uncertain times, having a tribe to call one’s own can make all the difference between surviving and thriving.

Measureless thanks, again, for the many prayers/blessings/contacts through this long ordeal of pain-filled challenges. Know that I love/appreciate each/every one of you!

Gentle hugs/much love,

Marian

Published by paintom

Happily married to Marianne. Medically retired USAF Lt. Col.

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