Showing Up YourSelf
by Linda Compton

I had been getting on a plane once a month going down to Santa Barbara doing a master's program. This had been my dream come true to have a master's degree since I was fifteen years old. Every month, either on Thursday evening or early Friday morning, there I was at the Oakland airport catching the plane. I would hug and kiss my husband, wave good-bye and off to Santa Barbara I would go. Actually I would fly into Van Nuys airport to be picked up by a class mate, Aljean and together we would drive to school. I had been doing this for one year and a half. School was going very well and I was "walking through my dreams."

My husband, David and I had been married for seven years and he wanted me to do what I was doing. He supported me in having my dreams come true, I thought. He would tease me about being gone so much but it still seemed like he wanted to meet my dreams and he knew how important finishing school was for me. I wanted a master degree and was about to get it.

Our relationship was just okay. You know how marriages are. Sometimes great, most times pretty good and some of the time lousy. You get through it because you both have made the rules and each person knows what they are. We got on fairly well. He was a wonderful man; full of good humor, everybody loved him. David, though had some problems loving himself. This was the second marriage for both of us and his uncertainty about who he was, especially now that he was off work on disability, was deepening. He was depressed sometime, agitated often and just didn't look good to me. I had wondered what the problem was and had even asked this quasi Muslim, if he was on drugs. "On drugs," he laughed, are you kidding, that would be the day. Something about him just didn't look right so I asked him a second time and even a third time. The third time, he got mad at me made it sound like I was inventing things. So I left him alone, fully believing him. David knew I could not and would not ever tolerate drugs at all in any way. Sometimes you have to have boundaries that drugs was mine.

So life went on and in June, I went to Seattle for a weekend. David dropped me off at the airport and off I went. As soon as I was there, I tried calling him to say I had arrived and was okay. There was no answer. I left a message and received no return call. I called again and still no answer. Finally on Sunday, he called back and told me he was there but just didn't feel like answering the phone. Of course this was strange but I was okay and the weekend was about to be over. When I came home I noticed he again wasn't looking or sounding right. He barked at me when the bank statement came and I asked him about a number of checks he had written. "Why are you punching me about those checks?" "I don't ask you anything about money do I?" No, he didn't ask me about money. We had never had any words our entire relationship about money. So again life went on.

Finally, I was so frustrated at trying to figure out what could be going with him that I stood up in my kitchen on a Friday and cried out to God "God, please reveal to me what is going on with my husband" I had been studying spiritual principals for many years and talking to God was something I knew I could do anytime. After crying out, I paused and a voice, God's voice, said to me "Go and look at the checks again." I thought to myself, what checks? "God, what are you talking about?" "Go and look at the checks again." I was guided right into the computer where the bank statement was still sitting on the computer table. There were eight checks in varying small amounts made out to Lucky and Safeway Stores, food markets. Of course I was in total dismay and bewilderment when I saw the amounts and the number of checks.

I immediately went to the telephone and called my cousin. "Eula, Eula, I think David is doing drugs." "Think, I know David is doing drugs, didn't you hear me ask him that the other day?" I felt my denial and my ignorance rise to the surface. I was a Personal Life Consultant. I had done my internship at a drug and alcohol outpatient clinic. I should have known better. The beatup was awful. "David is doing drugs, David is doing drugs, I kept saying to myself. I knew that I could not and would not live with anyone doing drugs. I felt my marriage was over. He had crossed over that line that everybody and Jesus knew was there for me. The drug boundary.

My cousin told me her stepson had mentioned David to her and had seen him near his house several times walking. Eddie said he knew this was trouble and thought David was buying drugs. I felt betrayed by David, my cousin and her stepson. No one said anything. I called Eddie, he confirm what my cousin had told me. Now, I knew, now I was not thinking anything. What was I going to do? David had a habit of before coming home he would always call me to see if I needed anything. That Friday evening he called as usual and instead of asking me what I needed, he asked, "If he could come home?" We were always very intuned to each other. Somehow he now knew that I knew. I told him, he didn't have a home and if he came at all he could come and tell me what he was doing with this life. He said he would and hung up the phone.

At 7:39pm David put his key in the door, came and stood there. I said nothing and he said nothing. The tension was thick and my anger about to blow. "What have you been doing with your life, David? What did you write these checks for? How long have you been doing drugs? Question, after question, quick and with each question, my voice got louder. I was so angry. "How dare you do this to me" How could you do this to our granddaughter. It took David all of thirty-nine minutes to tell me the truth. "I, ah, I ah, got into a little, I got into a little cocaine."

I remember standing there feeling like a volcano that was already blowing from the bottom. It would only be a second before the hot, bloody, red lava would be blown all over the house and would cover David. "GET OUT, GET OUT RIGHT NOW, YOU WILL NOT LIVE YOUR ASS HERE." My blood was hot and I was wild with anger. I wanted to kill him.

He walked into the computer room and began to pick up papers. He went into the closet and pulled out an old attache case. I saw him piling newspapers and bills into this attache case. Then we slowly walked into the garage and got another old brief case again putting old papers into them. He was gathering his life up. While in the angriest part of my life, I managed to call out to God again. "God, my God, what is going on here?" All of a sudden, I got still and very quiet. I was watching David continue to stuff this attache case with papers. Then I knew from no where. The voice inside of me said "David is going to commit suicide.

I said no another word. I knew as a therapist in training I was supposed to call the police to get him to a hospital. I wasn't a therapist, I was an anger and hurt wife. I did not want to get the roles mixed up. I went to the phone and called his best friend, Sam. "Sam, Sam, you have to get over here right away, David is in trouble." "Linda, what is wrong?" "Sam, please just get here fast, David is in trouble." In about five minutes Sam was knocking on the door. When I opened the door, I screamed out at Sam, "Sam, did you now that David was on drugs?" Sam looked at me and peeked into the bedroom. "What do you mean, David isn't on any drugs." "Then just go look at him, just look at him." David was packing only papers. No clothes. He looked up and saw Sam, "Sam, man go away, I have to do this, Sam I am sorry, I really F---d up this time. Sam I have lost Compton." "Sam was dumfounded. "I don't care about you David, get out, get out." "Sam, get him out of my house." I don't know if I have every been in that emotional space. My head was burning my now. My eyes large and my body weak. Sam took David away and I didn't see him until December.

That night about 12:30am, a girlfriend who had called the day before to tell me she was in town for a meeting a needed a couch to sleep was there. The next day, Kate and Ii spend the day looking for her a wedding gown. Because she was there and this situation with David so new, I wasn't feeling the full impact of what was to come.

I got through the day with Kate and then it was Sunday. I woke up feeling strange. The house was really quiet, I mean quiet like dead quiet. I got up and peeked into the other bedroom. David was gone. No one was there but me. Ii looked around the house and finally begin to feel myself. I felt empty, my stomach was aching. While holding my stomach I walked over to the sink to get some water to boil. The telephone ran. It was my cousin, Eula. When I heard her voice, asking me if I had talked to David, I begin to scream to the high heaven.

My stomach felt like a knife was being swirled around inside of it. "Eula, Eula, what am I doing to do. I am not going to get out of school. Eula, I am not going to get out of school." I fell to the floor in a curled position, screaming, I hate him, I hate him. I am not going to finish school."

My cousin was panicking. No one ever had heard me sound that way ever knew me to be that way. "Linda I will come over. Linda, hang up the phone, I will come over." "No Eula, don't, I can't get up. I am not going to finish school." I felt crazy. It felt like my life had ended. I wanted to die. I had found out David was doing drugs, one week before my orals at school. How could I do this? How could he do this to me? I couldn't think of anything but school. I was doomed and it was all David's fault. How could I get it together quick enough to study for my orals? I had to pass this test to get out of school. I had come so far. I was forty-nine years old. I was not a kid.

I had gone back to school when I was thirty-nine years, stayed at Mills College in Oakland for two and half years, then stayed home as a house wife for six years and then gone back to school again. This time to meet my dream of getting a master's degree. But now I couldn't even get off the floor. I felt like my life was over, all my dreams gone down the drain, forever washed away. I laid there on the floor, until all the tears were around and under me. I managed to get up and get to the bed. There I fell again and this time did not come out until Monday.

When I awoke on Monday, my body hurt all over. I was limp and I felt blind. I couldn't focus. I didn't care. My wonderful husband was gone, my marriage was over and I was a failure I thought. I was not going to finish school. I thought my emotional state was such that I just couldn't take the exam. I stayed in bed all day Monday and when I woke up on Tuesday, I knew I that God had forsaken me. I knew God loved me because he talked to me all the time, that is whenever I talked to him. I was baffled and I still felt crazy. It was Tuesday and I had not answered the phone or opened the curtains or got the mail. I had not eaten anything or drank any water. I was dying I thought. Something inside of me said "get up, Linda, get up." I got out of the bed and stumbled to the kitchen. I poured some water and held on to the counter to drink it.

I looked around and there was no David again. He was gone. I got back to the bed and stayed there until Wednesday. When I awoke on Wednesday, I found that I could get out of bed easier. I went to the bathroom and sat on the toilet. While sitting there, because I couldn't move, I begin to think about what had actually happened in my home with my wonderful husband and my marriage. I thought about school and the plane ride down to Van Nuys. I thought about Sam and the look on his face. I thought about David and how beat up and sad he looked packing his papers. I sat there for a long time, there on the toilet until the seat hurt my thighs. I couldn't see anything in my minds eye. I couldn't visualize or even meditate. Finally I went back to bed again and before I knew it, it was Thursday.

Thursday bought with it many many thoughts about me and David and most of all school. I felt clearer. I could see a little and I could think about what I could do. I begin to think about taking the exam and not taking the exam. I thought about quitting school and going back the following year. I thought quitting all together. Then something very clear and poignant happened. The thought came to me, "Compton, what would you tell a client if this same thing happened to them?" The voice of God again. God had not forsaken me, it only looked like it. God was right there all the time watching me go through all of this.

I was mad now at God. Again, the voice asked me what would you do if you were a client?" I didn't know how to answer but the answer that came up from me was "I would tell a client that if you want it, you have to go and show up for it. I would tell a client that no one came claim your dreams but you. I would tell a client that only you can show up for yourself." That was clarity. I laid there feeling those words go through my body. I would show up for myself. I begin to think the alternatives to taking the exam the next day. Perhaps I could take it another time. Perhaps I could reschedule. The thought came to me that I would not die.

God told me "you will not die -- this does not mean your life. It is only a test, it is not your life. You do not die from not taking a test." I had actually heard those words. God was actually speaking to me.

God was actually there for me but had said that I had to show up for myself if I wanted school. I looked at the clock, it was 10:35am. I thought that I would make the decision Friday morning when I woke up if I would go or not go. The thought that I and only I could show up for myself was looming in my mind. How, how would I show up for myself, under those circumstances. Just as I thought that thought, God said "You are larger than your circumstances." Is this God, Yes, Is this really you, Yes? Will you help me, Yes, What will happen? Go, go and show up for yourself. I got out of bed, went to the bathroom and this time I took a shower. I had not had a shower since Saturday morning. When I realized that, I knew I had lost it. I dressed myself and went into the kitchen and slowly but deliberately made myself some breakfast. I sat at the table, alone, looking around for David. He was gone. Although I still felt like I was somewhat in a fog, I knew something had happened to and for me. I knew I had come though something. I knew my life was changed and would be changed forever.

Friday morning came far too soon. I could hear the birds outside singing their hearts away. The sun was shining and I decided to go to school. I dressed myself and drove my own self to the airport, leaving my car parked. This was the same car that David had driven me so many times to the same airport but this time, I was leaving my car there. No one but me drove me to the airport. David was gone.

When Aljean met me at the airport, I felt heavy and dense. When I told her what had happened, she was amazed that I had come. We got to school and when I looked at the schedule, my exam was not until 1:25pm. It was now 10:05am. I went off by myself and wrote and wrote and wrote. I wanted to not talk to anyone so I would not be tempted to talk about David and the drugs. At 1:25pm, I walked into the examining room. Two examiners stood there to meet, "have a seat, it's Linda Compton?" "Yes, I am Linda Compton." Are you ready for your exam. Yes, I am.

I don't know how long the exam took. I was like a clock ticking down to zero. I remember, pushing my chair back and crossing my legs. Taking the test was like fitting a puzzle together, each piece of information crowding another and creating a picture, half done. I was beginning to see the picture of the puzzle and what I was seeing was the same thing I had been living. My case was a young woman diagnosed with major depression and cocaine addiction. When I said those words, it all begin to make sense to me. I knew this case like I had written it. I had lived it.

She and my husband were the same. This was the case I had chosen at the drug and alcohol outpatient clinic. I had been living with my husband and his drug addiction and I had been with this client for six months. It was now July and I had notice his different behaviors in February. Six months, I had been living with them both. I was overwhelmed. I heard the examiner say "Time up." I put my pencil down, lifted myself out of the chair and was told to leave the room and wait outside.

Time was a blur. She opened the door, smiling and invited back in. "Of course you passed, we don't give scores, it is just pass or fail and you passed. You were great!

You are one of the finest therapist who have ever sat before us. You were great!" I heard the words. I felt the tears rolling down my face. They thought it was joy. It was deepest sadness I had ever felt in my life. I begin to sob, uncontrollably. When one of them asked what was wrong, I sat down and told them what had happened. I told them about the young woman I had been counseling. I told them about the drugs and about David demonstrating suicide behaviors, packing his life up and away. I told them I had wanted to die on Sunday and each day had bought a different feeling and view of what was going on in my life. They were shocked and asked me why didn't I call for another appointment.

She said "You did so well, how did you do this with all of that going on for you?" I felt happy I had passed and terrible empty at the realization of what was really going on in my life.

I felt myself for a moment and finally said to her, "I did this because I wanted to. I have wanted nothing else since I was fifteen years old. I was told that if I wanted it, I had to show up for myself and that no one else could do this for me. God told me to go and show up for myself. that is why and how I did this. I remember being hugged and held. I had showed up for myself and accomplished something that only Sunday I thought I would never achieve. My results were all over the school even the following month when I returned to school. Teachers and students said they heard what I had done. I received many hugs and pats on the back. I was going to receive a master's degree.

I wrote my thesis, called "On the Way To Wholeness, What Happens When Healing Occurs in the Therapy Room." I wrote it without David, the man who had supported me, drove me to the airport, cooked my meals, given me our last money for airline tickets and left me alone to study. I graduated the following May. I was fifty years old. So the next time you want something and you want it real bad. Know that it is never too late. You are never too old. It doesn't matter what happens to you, it doesn't even matter how you react or that you know for sure that God is with you. What matters the most is showing up for yourself in the only way you know. What else matters is that you know when you hear words that are so unlike yours while in your misery, to listen carefully, for God is attempting to speak with you and show you the way. When he/she says "Go and show up for yourself," please go, God will surely meet you there.

******

Linda Compton is an Endless Dreamer and manifestor of her own dreams. She is and has been spiritually committed to her life's work and supporting others in realizing theirs for the past fifteen years. She was trained as a Personal Life Consultant at the Creative Studies Institute in San Francisco, Cal. studied with the American Institute of Stress Management, in Oakland, Cal. A Psychology graduate of Mills College in Oakland, She holds a Master's Degree in Depth Psychology from Pacifica Graduate Institute in Santa Barbara. Linda creates and facilitates spiritual retreats for women in Mexico, Costa Rica and other mystical places, teaches the You Can Heal Your Life classes, is a Mediator/Arbitrator, Intuitive Healer, Practitioner of EFT, BSFF and TAT, emotional freedom techniques.

She is still separated from her husband and on her way to a divorce.

Linda Compton
The Endless Dreamer
www.EndlessDreamer.com
510-233-6737

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