On the other hand, I think I would like to judge what is NOT normal. It is NOT normal to engage in deviant behavior that holds potential harm for others. I am thinking (reluctantly) about Michael Jackson, who says that sharing a bed is the most loving act. It depends on whom you are sharing it with! Sharing his bed with boys is NOT normal by anyone's standards: it is deviant and harmful. What is not normal is the destruction of self and others. By these standards, if we want to, we can consider ourselves normal, and that is certainly good enough.

Change of subject here for a sec.

What has been your most successful marketing strategy?

"life is lived to serve life"

This is pretty much how I've lived my life up until this last breakdown in 2002. It was a massive burnout, spiralling into depression and debilitating me to the point of not being able to do anything for months. The depression is gone (thanks to a few years of anti-depressants and a wonderful therapist), but I still haven't been able to achieve a sustainable level of reliable energy. IOW, the fuel tanks are still running on empty. It's still almost impossible for me to do anything that involves any undue level of physical exertion and/or emotional energy.

At this point in my recovery, I can walk a few blocks, do Tai Chi and Yoga stretching exercises, bake cookies (that's only in the past few months), and garden for an hour or so with numerous sit-down breaks (and not too many worms).

Five hours playing with my granddaughter on the weekend, while absolutely delightful and heart-lifting, still rendered me too exhausted (it feels like a deflated balloon, or one that's full of cement bricks) to do anything for the next two days. I still can't work, not even part-time; I can't do volunteer work yet, I can't even go shopping for more than an hour or two at the most. This is all so opposite to who and what I've been most of my life. It's the forced inactivity, the inability to reliably serve anyone at all that has made me question my purpose while in this state of being.

Somewhere inside of me, from within my wealth of experience of God's mercy and profound love, I know that I'm worthy merely because I exist. But for someone who has spent her entire life serving God and helping others in every possible moment and facet of that life (thus the massive burnout?), it helps to hear that my presence here might be adding a bit of light and love to the world. Especially since being here is one of the few things that I'm able to do these days.

Sorry Dotsie, It took me awhile to compose my last post and I posted it before noticing your change of topic.

Hi Dotsie, you wrote "I have a friend who equates writing with being a crack addict. Sounds terrible, but when she gets rolling she's addicted. Hours go by and she is unaware. I thought of her when you mentioned not answering the door or phone." It does sound terrible, doesn't it? Does your friend know what it is like to be a crack addict? Crack addiction promotes self-absorbed, self-destructive, and harmful actitivities. I know your friend is probably joking. And I know I am being hyper-sensitive to this referenceto drug abuse and for that reason her reference to addiction bothers me. Last night, at CASA, the volunteer coordinators revealed that drug addiction is a huge cause of DV. Yes, hours go by when we are engaged in writing. But at least writing is meaningful behavior. I wonder if she could come up with another analogy. Now, I'm going to feel a little uneasy for challenging your friend's analogy. It is not YOU or your post, it's just her analogy. I couldn't let it go without comment.

Yes, Dianne, it is all relative, and if we are talking about normal, normal is on a continuum of society’s expectations. My goodness, why couldn’t your father embrace you rather than try to keep you in your place? What place was that? The place where HE did not feel threatened by your presence? I’m glad you were able to move through their self-serving concepts of you to determine who you are to your own self. Being grateful for your self is important, as is self-love. Thank goodness you are able to experience that!

Wow! I hate to do this to you all, but I have to get ready for my watercolor class. I will be back this evening. I have read all the posts up to time 3:43 PM. I can't wait to respond to your revelations and enlightenments! What a lucky group we are to have each other to share in trust and harmony. Dotsie and Dian, I will also get back to your questions re: changes in manuscript and marketing strategy. In the meantime, Love and Light, Lynn

Hi Eagle, I will put this book on my long list of must reads. Gosh, Eagle, I relate to the need to conform to others’ opinions. I came from a family that did not value my opinion, until I turned 50, and now they are all ears. And yes, conforming to others’ opinions while denying our own indeed reduces our ability to see our authentic self. But all is not lost! You can excavate your authentic self, and you’re already on a healing path, which leads to who we really are, and who we are meant to be. You know, we do not enter the world with a sense of NON belonging. We enter the world fully expecting to love and to be loved in return. Something, someone dims our light, and we retreat to the dark because we think we do not belong. The light may be dimmed, but is not extinguished! My first form of self-therapy is baking. I haven’t talked about this before (I think our resident chef is Jaw Jaw: where is she?) Baking is a task I learned as a child. I also learned that a cake or a cookie will always bring pleasure to others, and I had a strong need to please. Baking is also something I know I can do: I can’t fathom a math formula, but I can follow a recipe. So, baking banana bread is the kind of task that nourishes my self, just as gardening can “ground” others who enjoy that past-time. When you are baking, do you feel that you belong in the moment, in that kitchen, baking for your husband and your self? Another good book for determining your authentic self is “Simple Abundance” by Sarah Ban Breachnach.

I went to a watercolor painting class at the Bemis School of Art, which is an appendage to a museum here. There was a time when I would have so much self-talk: "I don't belong here. Who do I think I am? What makes me think I have any talent? How dare I do anything that includes art! I am not an artist. These people are so much more artsy than I. I better not ask any questions and look stupid. What makes me think I can draw? I better trace instead." I had none of that today. I was so grateful to be driving through the city surrounded by mountains to an art class, then home to a husband that loves me and wants me to be happy, that the question of belonging didn't enter my mind. Neither did the question of whether or not I can call myself an artist enter my mind. I was so present: I am taking an art class because I want to and I can and thank you God for putting this teacher and this class on my path.

Eagle, I’m sorry you experienced such a massive burnout and depression. Thank goodness you know that you are worthy just because you are! That was a long, hard lesson for me to learn: that I am worthy just being. I used to measure my worth by what I could accomplish during a day. I remember calling a prayer chain when I was in the midst of depression. At that time, I was in a high-stress, low-pay job. By low pay I mean not only financially but also in regards to low rewards. All day long, I served others who were ungrateful and irritable. One day I answered 177 phone calls! I was about to file for a stress leave. Anyway, when I called the prayer chain, the dear soul on the other end said something about “using God given talents to rise up to serve others.” I said, “I rise up out of bed to serve others all day long.” Of course, a prayer chain is not the place to vent anger and create arguments. I have fibromyalgia, which often asks for pay back after a day of activity. In other words, if I do not pace myself one day, I will be fatiqued the next. Would it help you to know that you are not alone? I played with my 8 and 3 year old nieces for an hour or two, (they called me “Princess Lynn”) and I was exhausted. I can’t go shopping for more than an hour or two. If I got a job, it would have to be part time because I still get migraines. I used to get by on 4-5 hours of sleep, now I need 10. I try not to measure myself against myself of earlier years. That was then, this is now. And now is all we have. What if you discovered that you experienced burn out because you were supposed to give more to your self? What if you discovered that taking each day at a slower pace was more about savoring life, sipping rather than gulping life’s offerings, and that this was intentional for your personal growth? Just wondering. I am so grateful that you can be here!