How Balanced is Your Checkbook?

Today, I came to the realization that I have been trying to balance my checkbook every single day. Not, my literal checkbook, but instead more like a book of good and bad deeds. I reconcile this book every single day in at least a dozen different ways. I am one of those ‘humans’ who have made some really bad choices. As you get older, you come to realize that most humans do this. They may not admit it, or even share knowledge of it. But, in most ways, most folks balance those checkbooks in some quiet way, in their own ways.

Now, that’s not to say that I’ve done drugs, had an abortion, or cheated on a spouse. But, that doesn’t make me 100% innocent of things that someone might say about me. All in all, I know I’m a pretty good gal. But, ya, I’ve done some stupid shit. I actually have friends who are not friends anymore because of some choices I have made. And I can tell you if they followed the tenants of their own faith they’d probably talk to me one of these days. Shit happens you know. I know it sounds like I’m taking the subject lightly, but I am not. Because I am a person who thinks all the time, I rarely turn it off. Mostly, I can’t turn it off. And I think about those friends and ponder how they are. I say a prayer for them, and I say a prayer for me. Part of my reconciliation ritual I suppose. I try to balance that checkbook.

Ex-family members—as in ex-husband, ex-step-father, you know the types someone in the family can actually CHOOSE to divorce and never speak to again. I still think of them, and wonder how they are, and say a prayer for them and for me. I say it for them because of the misunderstanding we might have had, or because of violence that they showed me and because they themselves faced some sort of violence in their life, that they just could not overcome. I say a prayer for me because of all the violence I thought about showing them and for the violence that I did show them in my effort to live through the experiences. Yes, indeed, that was my choice, and not very good ones at that. It’s actually hard to think about these things…rarely do I NOT shed a tear for these ex-family members. Because it’s easy to see that they might want the understanding that I might want if I were in their shoes. And because I’d love to reach out and try again, but even I get too scared to even go down that road.

The hardest part I have dealing with are the family members I can’t divorce. I can choose not to talk to them. Or, they can choose to not talk to me. But, the lack of communication doesn’t stop them from being family members, nor does it solve the issues that caused the problems. I have to say a prayer for them, and say a prayer for me. I find it a terribly sad day when it’s easier to not talk then to talk and resolve the issues at hand. It makes a person weary to realize that these things can go on for YEARS. In all honesty, from my perspective, there are no issues so large that they cannot be overcome, so long as both parties are willing to eventually let it go. How important is it that we are right? Would you love that person any less if they were right? Can’t we just chalk it up to experience and move on? It has been heartbreaking to realize some folks are incapable of that. Let me go and look at that checkbook…again. A prayer for them, and a prayer for me.

Some of those family members actually taught me by example how to make choices, and I am thankful for some of what they choose to share with me. And I am also thankful for what little discernment that I have to NOT always follow in their footsteps. The example of learning from an elder’s mistakes: I’ve lived my life trying hard to move forward in a simple, earnest, and honest way. Sometimes, much easier said than done. Learning to move on despite being your own best enemy, doing the best you can with what you’ve got: Another form of reconciliation. Dear Peggy, how is your checkbook?

I was telling a friend today about my musical past. The one where an instructor actually thought I could sing, and encouraged it. I told the friend that music is so elemental to me that one song can bring tears to my eyes, It can also lift my spirit, teach me a lesson, or help me to find the Spirit—one song, one therapy, another form of reconciliation, every single day. Writing, and thinking are two more forms. Sharing my history without getting too complicated, or sharing too much—a form of balancing one’s checkbook, Also, a passing on of the wisdom that was tendered along the way.

As I get older, I find that I am actually thinking about a legacy. Even a year ago, that was not something that I thought about. How do I leave a legacy of peace, calm, warmth, lovingness—my choices has not always led to these ends. My biggest hope is that in the end the good will outweigh the bad. If the scales of justice are used in judging me, will I come out at least even? In my private moments, I have to be honest; it could be a really close call. There have been times when I was certainly no angel.

Primum non nocere – Do No Harm

A song about Jabez’s prayer comes to mind:
“Oh, God Bless Me.
Please enlarge my ministry.
Let your hand always be with me.
Keep me from evil
Let me not cause harm, oh please my prayer…”
(source: Hilary F. Marckx)

To Whom It May Concern, and to no one in particular: How balanced is your checkbook?

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The End of a Story

peggyrowe1964-300x290

Yup, I sure look like trouble in this shot.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I grew up hearing my mother tell me what hell on wheels I was as a toddler. Her hope was that I would have children that behaved even worse than I did so that I would get pay back. I never once took it as a joke. Not once. It dawned on me this afternoon that was my mother’s way of letting me know that she was angry about something. It also crossed my mind today that I have raised three kids, all of them were toddlers once and not one of them ever behaved in such a way that I would ever say something like that to them. Never. Toddlers are so easy to care for. IF they are doing something that they should not be doing, you get their attention with something else and they are good. Puppies are on the same wavelength, you use the same techniques with them. So, long story short…I don’t have the details, but now I know that I hit the nail on the head almost 30 years ago. I’m not crazy, I didn’t make it up, I did not lie, and I’m not telling stories. Mom perpetuated the same thoughts and actions when she ‘handled’ my oldest daughters situation. The story finally makes sense, I can close that chapter of my life… I can stop working the puzzles. But, first, I need to cry. a lot.

Friend:  YOU are a fantastic woman….!!!!!
Peggy Rowe thanks
Friend:  I don’t know why mom’s did that sort of thing….
Peggy Rowe:  some monsters are too big to face alone. That generation of women were utterly on their own in every way. Society told them to keep it quiet and not talk about it. They were doing what they were told to do.
I guess this pic of me might make someone think, that maybe I was one tough hombre back then, "hold it right there, sir, what is it you said?" "oh, well then, GO AHEAD, MAKE MY DAY" :)

I guess this pic of me might make someone think, that maybe I was one tough hombre back then, “hold it right there, sir, what is it you said?” “oh, well then, GO AHEAD, MAKE MY DAY” 🙂

This week’s ‘homework’. 2/6/2017
(Women w/ PTSD; a Seeking Safety group/class)

For the last couple of weeks, I have been using a lot of self-talk.
I have been sending myself messages.
They have been messages of self-acceptance.
I have been in conversation with a little girl who lives within.
Over the years she has shrieked and shrieked…
She has had tantrums, one after another.
This little girl has been afraid of the dark and heavy footsteps.
She could not look at the light that she saw under the door.
She made it really hard for me to sleep.
She was afraid to close her eyes.
One good thing: She’s got an insatiable curiosity.
She wants to know everything just because there is everything to know.
It is really that simple. She’s a very simple child.
The sun shone down on her almost every day.
Most days she knew it.
This conversation that I’ve had with myself has been one of affirmation, love, & joy.
I spoke with what I hoped has been a soothing & comforting voice.
I told her that I was so glad to have her in my life.
I told myself that whatever it was, it wasn’t my fault.
I let her know that I am a good girl and a good person.
That everyone is allowed to make mistakes.
That is what makes me human.
I told my girl that it was ok to be afraid of the dark.
I promised to always leave on a light.
I told her I understood why she was afraid of the footsteps.
I pictured myself holding that little girl tight.
That is what she really wanted.
I promised to hold her through the night.
I let her know that closing her eyes is something safe.
I told me that I understood that she needed a mother.
I knew that I meant a real mother.
I let her know that I could be one.
I gave me a ‘mommy’, one that wasn’t angry;
A mom who knew what to expect from a little girl.
I told her I could see she needed a mom that wasn’t quite so harsh,
and who would protect her from the man in the dark.
I told my girl, that from now on, I was going to take care of me.
I explained that her real mom is busy fighting off monsters.
I explained that my ‘supposed to be” mom really was the best she could be.
I tried to show tenderness as I promised her that I was healthy enough to take care of me.
All of me.
I promised the little girl that we would go out for walks, and enjoy each day.
I promised her that we would go out and play, and turn over rocks and look for new things.
I promised her that we’d still go out and build snow men, and play in the rain.
I even remembered to say we’d splash in mud puddles, and make mud pies.
I promised to remember and love every single piece of me.
I told her that no matter how tough things got that I would hold her as long as I was alive.
The little girl smiled, she closed her eyes.
I was witness to a most peaceful sleep.
The little girl snuggles into herself and seems to breathe in warmth & comfort.
She says, “I’ve needed you for a long, long time. I wondered where you went. I really, really missed you. I’m happy that you came back. You came back. Thank you, for coming back for me. “

Predators in Douglas County

16427801_10210536351020486_172102550160555410_nThis man is spending a lot of time in Myrtle Creek area right now and may even be living there. HE may work at TMS in Roseburg, Douglas, Oregon.  Please pass this on to locals.

IDENTIFYING INFORMATION

Name: GAMBRELL, RAYMOND MICHAEL
Address: UNDER DEER CREEK BRIDGE
ROSEBURG, OR 97470
Height: 509
Weight: 200
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Brown
SMTs:
Pierced left ear
Scar, Chin SURGICAL SCAR
Scar, Hand, left
Scar, Knee, left
Scar, Forearm, left
Scar, Elbow, right
Scar, Forearm, right
Scar, Wrist, nonspecific BOTH – SURGERY
Age: 47
DOB: 11/25/1969
Race: W
Sex: M

Charges:
Conviction Date Offense Name
09/19/2003 AT SEX ABUSE 1-FEL

Targets: MINOR FEMALES

Methods of Offending: USED FAMILIARITY WITH THE VICTIM TO GAIN COMPLIANCE

Conditions & Restrictions: NO CONTACT WITH LISTED PEOPLE NO CONTACT WITH MINORS NO INTOXICATING BEVERAGES

Supervised By: DOUGLAS COUNTY COMM CORR, 541-957-8148