Release the Toxins!

Years ago, my boss sent me a few doors down in the posh, high end "Village" where we were located to enjoy a full body massage. I remember being so excited, never having experienced a professional massage, and initially, a bit intimidated and a little out of place, but once I relaxed and gave in to the moment, it was pretty fantastic! It was very intense, in totally good way, though I did have to instantly have her stop working on an area in my feet, which is linked with my back and initiated some serious discomfort, but aside from that, it was wonderfully peaceful and relaxing.

Until I left.

I was dizzy, totally nauseated, and just felt completely awful. It was explained to me that this was likely due to the toxins that were released into my body during the massage, and my boss promptly sent me home to rest for the remainder of the afternoon. Needless to say, I’ve never gone for another professional massage!

 It occurred to me today that all of this deep work that I am doing inside of myself is quite similar to that massage.

I’m working muscles I’ve not used before, or not recently, putting strain on them, and then attempting to make repairs and heal those muscles. I’m digging into thoughts and feelings that have been buried far below the surface for a very long time. I’m exposing them, bringing light and truth to them, so that I can find release and healing. (Sounds a lot like the physical aspects of that massage!)

My mind is foggy and I am feeling terrible physically. It’s just like how I felt when I walked out into the sunshine after that massage years ago. I feel drained, sick, physically ill, and just YUCK.

I see similarities in the then and now, which has given me the impression, a vision of sorts, that my process of healing and that massage really are quite alike.

 All this trauma drama that I am sifting through is literally toxic shit that has been stored inside of me for a VERY long time. As I have gently massaged, poked around, unearthed… stuff and thangs… I have opened up several “cans of worms”, emotionally, in the process; I’ve begun releasing the toxic shit. I think right now, what I am feeling, like the aftermath of that massage, is the toxins swimming around inside of me.

This is a good thing. It tells me that the process is fully in motion, and that I am actually healing mentally and physically.

I’m working on the sore spots, bringing some comfort, and easing the pain. This is causing things to relax in there, which is allowing me to begin letting go of the toxic shit. Now I’m currently in that next phase, the “feel the feelings”, walking through the feelings to get to the other side, stage. As expected, it feels really shitty here, like reeaaallly gross, but I know, I am closer than I have ever been in my life to truly accepting and letting go of all the chaos and pain that I have been carrying.

I recognize that this is the time for even more gentle self-care and patience with myself as I walk through this leg of my journey. I have a lot of absorbing and accepting to do inside, and it’s time to comfort, forgive and be truly honest with myself.

Single Mama Rant

Despite the growth I have been experiencing on my healing and recovery journey, the hard work that I’ve been doing, digging into myself, my thoughts and behaviors, there is still one area that is kicking my ass. Royally.

The role that I am in, “The Single Mom”.

These days, the role is eating me up inside, it’s overwhelmingly consuming and crushing me.

I remind myself that I am not the only one in this role. I remind myself that there are others with more children than my own, one daughter. I remind myself that while we have experienced hell, there are others who have gone through worse to get here. I remind myself that these others, moms, dads, aunties, uncles, grandparents, friends, etc., are in the same boat as I, and they are succeeding. I remind myself that I am strong. I remind myself that I am capable. I remind myself that it will get easier. I remind myself that I am doing the best that I can.

I am trying.

The struggle is real my friends.

My nights lately, intended for reviewing the personal work I am doing, catching up on homework (I am doing my English 12, and just started 2 online courses to brush up on my skills in the areas of computers and the fundamentals of being an Administrative Assistant), and quiet time to wind down with some self-care, have turned into a war zone, leaving me with little time to catch my breath or get a decent sleep.

I sit on the couch crying, the weight of my responsibilities feeling as though they are crushing me, and, as was the case last night, with the music LOUD, the fan on high, in attempt to drown out my daughters nasty screaming and wailing, and the urge to scream at the top of my lungs while running out of my apartment.

The yelling and friction between us have surpassed anyone’s comfort zone, even beginning to frighten one another, so really, releasing a blood curdling scream is not an option, nor is running away.

I know others can relate to having another parent in the house who really doesn’t contribute to their role in the family, in any physical or emotional manner. But, because you both created this child, you don’t feel completely alone or misunderstood in your hopes, plans, beliefs about the child. Until you are alone. Then, I know others can continue to relate to finding a partner who steps in to take on a parental role, thankfully, and wonderfully, but we still feel alone on the deeper levels of parenting this child who was created by two, then left with one.

And I know there are others who have experienced both of those situations, and then still find themselves where I now am: ONE. SINGLE. PARENT.

The strongest words racing through my mind lately?

OH. MY. GOD. HOLY. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUUUUUCCKK.

(followed by huge tears and sobs, deep breaths, and loneliness)

I recognize the elements of age/stage that are present; the “normal” tough stuff. I am aware of the effects on her from the grief, loss and traumas that she has experienced. I realize that she has seen people treat her mom in unhealthy, unsafe and negative manners. I accept, with a giggle, that she IS my daughter after all; those who know me… LOL But, there is another side that I see too, a darker side that regretfully reminds me of her father, though I would NEVER say that to her. A side that is beginning to resemble a person who bullies her mom, a negative, unaccepting, unwilling, take no responsibility, constantly pointing fingers to blame side.

This “side” of her though, is beginning to feel like it might break this single mama.

Beneath the crushing and suffocating weight, overwhelming tears and need to vent, I continue to maintain vigilance. I continue to reach out to our counsellors, friends and family, I read anything “parenting”, and I just keep trying, one foot in front of the other.

I am determined.

The cycles end here. The healing begins. I will, and AM showing her a better way. I am sharing tools and skills with her. I am conversing about the tough stuff with her, attempting to ensure open communication with her for when the “big” stuff comes along.

One day, I remain hopeful, she will fully understand and appreciate this “role” I currently struggle to fulfill. I hope that she will be proud of me, for kicking ass at BEING a “single mama”.

"Mighty Mouse!" Takes on "Insidious"

I mentioned Insidious during check in at my last CAB session, and the facilitators, already familiar with him and his relentless and seductive ways, gently pressed for more detail. One of the lead facilitators sat, visibly formulating his strategy with each response I provided. He, who I shall name “Mighty Mouse!”, sat, rubbing his palms together in front of him, ominously, like an evil and menacing villain preparing to reveal his destructive master plan. He eventually turned back to me and asked if he might “try something” with “Insidious”. Eager to jump in and “do the work”, I instantly agreed. Before he went to work, dramatically setting the stage though, “Mighty Mouse!” had one final question for me, “Does “Insidious” have arms or legs?” The obvious answer? “No.”

“Mighty Mouse!” identified that he planned to use a Smart Recovery tool, DISARM (Destructive Images and Self-Talk Awareness and Refusal Method), which, in my opinion, is basically working with shadows. He said, “the point in using this method, basically, is to incite a riot between self and inner addict/demon/gremlin/etc.”

("In Deepak and Gotham Chopra’s book, The Seven Spiritual Laws of Superheroes, Chopra identified shadow as a “force of the unconscious that can be destructive, divisive and/or self-sabotaging if it remains unconscious”.

“In therapy, the therapist encounters shadow in the painful experiences that their clients share. The therapist and client build a safe relationship where shadow can be explored. Shadow is very difficult work because of resistance. The outcome of examining oneself and facing what has happened in one’s life, however, gives a person freedom to create change and use the wealth of energy that was tied up in shadow.”

© Copyright 2011 by By Barbara 'Basia' Mosinski, LCAT, ATR-BC, MA, MFA, therapist in New York City, New York. All Rights Reserved. Permission to publish granted to GoodTherapy.org.  )

The moment I said “Yes!” to being under the spotlight, in the hot seat, panic took my breath away, anticipation about what would/could happen, and anxiety coursed through my body. And then I caught myself; I am determined to do this work. I immediately sensed a shift of vibration and energy in the room, and myself; a dark cloud descended upon the room. Amid cleverly placed pauses, loaded with deafening silence and suspense, “Mighty Mouse!”  had someone pull an empty chair up to the table across from me, at which point my fear peaked as I imagined myself facing “Insidious”. Slowly, like a painfully drawn out plot twist, he invoked a clear vision of ME sitting in that chair, with “Insidious” where I sat; I was going to be answering AS “Insidious”.

First came introductions, “So, you’re “Insidious”? Do you know Laurinda, over there? Oh, well, I am a friend of hers…so and so… Do you mind if I ask you some questions?”. Then came the very well-played interrogation, and the answers “Insidious” arrogantly and deftly provided, with a bloodthirsty smirk. “What do you think of Laurinda?”, “What do you plan to do to her? How do you manipulate and seduce her? What do you plan/desire to do to her goals/future? What HAVE you done/taken from Laurinda? What are your plans for her daughter?”. “Mighty Mouse!” unloaded an arsenal of deep questions, and the joy “Insidious” finds in torturing me, his beloved prisoner, was evident in every response. He wants to crush me, every one of my hopes, dreams, opportunities, and relationships; he wants to destroy my life. He happily acknowledged all that he has already taken from me, in the form of hope, time, peace, love, success, etc., and calmly admitted plans to lure my daughter into the same darkness of his lair. As was expected, “Insidious” had a lot of cruel and nasty things to say about me, and of his dark intentions for our future together.

The intensity of what I was hearing/saying became like a weighted blanket on top of me. I remember fully immersing myself, letting go of the fears around being vulnerable in front of mere strangers, and feeling the blanket fall on me like a heavy snowfall… Everything and everyone around me seemed to melt away, fade to nothing. There was only my awareness of “Mighty Mouse!” and “Insidious”, and the tears that slowly washed over my cheeks.

Next, “Insidious” was asked when he came into my life, and we both blankly pondered the “always” that flashed before us. (That’s a whole ‘nother journey!) He admittedly enjoyed how easily he did manage to take control of me though, “before she (I) even had a chance”. He wants to destroy me, simply because he can.

“Mighty Mouse!” further probed on how exactly it is that “Insidious” maintains his control over me, having “no arms or legs and all”. “So, the power that you have over Laurinda is based on what?” It’s based on the straightforward fact that I have believed his harsh and deceptive words and trusted his whispered promises of solace. I just do what he tells me. Then, “Insidious” was asked what one thing he did not want ME to know would be. The answer? “That she DOES have a choice, free-will, a mind and power of her own.”

“Insidious” thinks he’s keeping a secret from me. A secret that he knows, once I realize the truth, his game will be over. He is afraid that I will take back MY POWER.

His fear? His weak spot? Losing his control over me.

My triumph? My vow? His losing control over me.

The process was killer, and I dropped a lot of “F@$%” and “holy $#it” bombs during that session. I remember “worrying” a few times during the interrogation, certain that I would have to stop, but “Mighty Mouse!” led so well, it was almost easy to “stay in character” as the internal tension within me increased.

It was such a highly intense and volatile experience, and yet deeply cleansing and powerfully motivating.

“Insidious” has been a predator, a monster, in my life, but truly he is a weak and desperate NOTHING. I am not done with him yet. I have some table turning to do with him, and a couple more “letters” to address; each step I take, he falls a little further into the fire.

I will remain diligent and aware. His power over me does, and will continue to diminish every day.

The Death of "Insidious" : His Return

Insidious: “Alluring but harmful” 

That is one of three definitions found on Word Hippo, and a very good way of describing this particular “Insidious” problem of mine. MY personal definition: when something IS insidious, it is like a hidden system of veins, as it stealthily seeps its way in, and around its target. It begins as a mere trickle, but given the opportunity, it’s flow surges, gaining power, and it becomes a debilitating force in the end.

I introduced the monster on my back, "Insidious", in my previous post, Vulnerability, Values, and "Insidious". That day I (we) worked to truly put a face to him (our inner demons) in Day Program was, undoubtedly, an extremely difficult and draining process to get through, and thankfully, the second part to the work, was held off until the following day.

The writing meditation (we utilized different types of meditations each day, to expose us to something new, and to start firing some new connections in our brains, speed up some of our healing, by utilizing the creativity inside of us) that we did the next morning was prompted with “Write a Letter to your Gremlin/Demon”.

I gladly, and proudly share with you the letter that wildly erupted on paper (and YES, it is highly vulgar). 

(I am working on “vulnerability”, being open and authentic, true to myself, and, I also believe/feel that in sharing our stories, in the raw, we extend opportunities to inspire healing in another. We have the power to help someone, without having any knowledge of that fact, with our words.) 

I called him out, and announced his fate!!

Clearly, expending that kind of energy was an incredible procession through hell, and I desperately needed to have some type of closure to the process itself. I suggested, wheedled, and then successfully encouraged the others to join me in my request: I felt it would be extremely healing, and supportive of one another in case of overwhelming emotions, to burn our letters; to have a ceremony around the release of these gremlins.

We went outside, with a garbage can, and we each took a turn tossing our letters and pictures into the fire, uttering whatever words we needed in our own moment above the flames.

I felt so empowered in that moment. I felt lighter. I finally felt free.

Having identified “Insidious”, addressed him, and given him his walking papers, I still knew that these demons are relentless, and they really don’t like to be denied or ignored. I knew that I would have to remain vigilant in keeping "Insidious" away. I continued on with the daily grind of my recovery and healing, learning new tools, trying to continually be mindful and AWARE of my thoughts and behaviors, and tried to catch myself whenever I could sense his presence.

I really worked hard at being cognizant of, and catching my thoughts, AND busting "Insidious". I began to, have fun with it; proudly laughing at him, throwing him the finger over my shoulder and telling him: “Ha Ha Ha!! Nice try!! But, F@#% OFF!!” I enjoy it. I find it quite satisfying.

Recently though, in addition to simply having to deal with life on life’s terms, and “feel the feelings” (oh the joys!!), I just really began to feel off. Balance, self-trust, and self-care/self-soothing have all been a lot of work in trying to establish, and I’ve been practicing being kinder and gentler to myself. I really do have a very powerful propensity towards, an often twisted, sense of “perfection”, and I “have a tendency to be”, AM “extremely hard” on myself, but I really began to feel like I was being too gentle with myself. I found myself easily making excuses and avoiding little things; all of which begin/began to slowly pile up, with a little red flag sticking out the top.

I began to wonder, and paid a little more attention to what I was feeling vs. what I was doing, loudly questioning myself, my decisions and thoughts… I felt that Insidious had begun to move back in. Like a spider, he had spun his intricate, detailed, and well-planned web, again, and I, like a little bug, was becoming sticky, almost stuck.

“He’s trying to weaken me, keeping me home, feeling low, b/c “it’s ok to be gentle with myself right now”. He’s really done his homework, and he’s trying to use my new knowledge and skills against me. I say “Fu@% YOU!!” each time I catch him lurking, but he’s pretty sneaky these days. He’s messing with my motivations and sleep, he’s urging me into lazy and smoking a lot, he’s not wanting me to eat, and especially not healthily. He’s got me procrastinating, putting off, avoiding, making excuses, and rationalizing. Shit! He’s making a real go at trying to bring me down again! COMBAT! I beat him before, and I will AGAIN and AGAIN if I have to!! So, given what I know, I now need to make a plan! I need a safety, action plan to bury him!! I’m not playing with you INSIDIOUS!! I AM STRONGER AND SMARTER!!”

I wrote that last week, after the last, very powerful, Smart Recovery session.

The next day, at CAB, I had the opportunity to REALLY work with "Insidious". It turned out to be the most intense, eye-opening, WOW., experience that I have had so far in this journey of mine. (and it happened in a room full of mere strangers!! Talk about allowing myself to be vulnerable!!)

Links, Books, Quotes, and AADP

Even in the harshest of conditions...

In March, I began feeling stronger about working on my healing and recovery.

The team, knowing my thirst for knowledge, talked about Co-Dependency, Boundaries, using Affirmations (I begin my day writing a positive affirmation about myself),  and Grounding, among other topics. As I searched for their recommendations, I began to delve deep into the shelves at the library, soaking in the many words and comfort I found in the plethora of books I found there.

There were many, of course, but the ones that really stand out as being an immense help were: 

The Secret by Rhonda Byrne. I LOVED and was totally inspired by Mackenzie Phillips 2nd book, Hopeful Healing, and then read her 1^st, High on Arrival. Rewired by Eerica Spiegelman stirred me so much, that for the first time EVER, I veritably got serious about what I was taking in, and genuinely did the work, dug into the questions I needed to ask myself, and proudly had some small epiphanies. As with Rewired, Recover by Stanton Peele, PhD, put me to work. It was fucking hard!! Yet, I persisted, and began to make some progress in understanding myself.

I began taking notes in CAB, learning about REBT (Rational Emotive Behavior Therapy), and working through the ABC and CBA worksheets they had available from the SMART Recovery program. We spoke a lot about IB’s (Irrational Beliefs), Dealing with Urges and Cravings, and Early Recovery among MANY topics each week.

I began to hear phrases, words, and quotes that stuck with me, and I repeatedly wrote them out in the notebook I carried to group: “It takes 21 Days to create a new habit”, “healing at a cellular level”, “feelings aren’t facts”, “If life doesn’t go right, go left”, and Mama Facilitator’s favorite, “If you fail to plan, you plan to fail”, which was her segue to pull out the Safety Cards. At first, I carelessly wrote them out, and carried them close as suggested. It took some time before I truly found the value in them, and I continue to use the many I have now created. I highly recommend creating your own!

I began dipping my toes into the actual SMART  Recovery meeting with my new friend Teeny in April. Though I knew no one else, I felt instantly at ease and comfortable when I walked in for the first time. The group topic often, coincidentally, aligned with what we had worked on in CAB, which I found incredibly helpful. I was able to really cement the ideas inside myself, making it easier to re-wire some parts of my brain and create new thought patterns and beliefs!

I was starting to get so excited about getting healthy and changing my life!

I was doing a lot of intense, hard-work, as I continued to drink. Until, I made a CHOICE not to. I had finally attended the Orientation for AADP, placed myself on the wait-list, and got ready to WAIT. And WAIT.

As I mentioned in my last post, “The feedback I received around me was, of course, over the moon positive and proud. I, however, was doing some tricky thinking in the background. One of the requirements of attending AADP is to be clean during the 8 weeks of the program. That little voice inside taunted me, telling me that no one would ever know what I did upon leaving group each day. With a laugh, I, finally, caught and corrected that thought. I would know. The joke, and the consequences, would only be on me. I announced that I would be easing off until I got the call, and then I would quit."

“Whatever games are played with us, we must play no games with ourselves, but deal in our privacy with the last honesty and truth.” Ralph Waldo Emerson

Thankully, my drive to get healthy was activated BEFORE I got that call, and so I had become intentional in my daily activities, preparing myself for what lay ahead. I quit drinking.

I  worked hard with my books, engaged in learning and healing, identified and enforced boundaries (for the first time EVER), and whatever else I thought might be helpful!

I was at 18 days without a drink when I finally did get the call that I would be starting AADP, and I was STOKED!! I was becoming more clear and positive in my thinking, and was trying quite hard to quit the "stinking thinking" voice that was attempting to intimidate me.

Finally I made it!! My first day, I was early (as usual), and my apprehension instantly eased when I discovered a familiar face who I'd met in CAB a while back. That first day was everything I'd hoped for and more. The immediate connection I felt to the 3 others who began that day (another beautiful friendly face from CAB), the seniors that were so accepting and helpful, and the 3 kick-ass facilitators blew me away. 

I knew that I was finally where I needed to be, and I was raring to get started!

(I wanted to share what's been working for me, and so I gave you some of my favorite info! I hope you find it helpful/useful. I hope that you feel inspired while you forge your own path, remembering that you are never alone)

(And don't worry, I'll have a ton more links to share with you as I go along!! The interesting stuff, the surprising, the helpful and useful, the funny...)

See you soon!! ;)

Falling Down the Rabbit Hole

It was around this time last year that I fell into the “rabbit hole”.

From very early on, I had never taken the time to know myself, I didn't learn any of the skills and tools to handle anything that occurred in my life. I was like a zombie really, just moving mindlessly through my life. I expected things to be ok, to just work out, get better... Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll be ok, this will all be over, I'll do better, I'll be better... Tomorrow.

I have spent my life living on the edge, moving from one crisis or trauma to the next. There didn't seem to be any respite, perhaps a glimmer of hope once in a blue moon, but it never lasted. Of course, without doing any of the work I needed to do, and without an ounce of self-care, self-love, or self-respect to support any type of healing, it never would. I just carried obliviously onward, continuously slipping into the rabbit hole, pulling myself a few inches out, until the next thing happened, when I'd slide back down to the bottom.

 

My world as I had known it began to seriously crumble shortly after moving 5 years ago. After 13 years, the abuse and violence in my marriage erupted, and I separated from my husband, and promptly fell headfirst, deep into that rabbit hole. The couple that took my daughter and I in for a few months after the explosive break up of my marriage became my best friends; we were a part of each other’s daily lives, despite the healthy and unhealthy dynamics of the relationship between the three of us was. Almost 2 years ago now, I witnessed the husband, my friend, someone very close to me, and my boss, have a massive heart attack, and subsequently pass on. After he passed, the house cleaning, deliveries, other odd jobs, and Administrative/Booking Assistant work that I had been doing with/for them for 3 years, came to a sudden end. The growing anxiety and realization of how unhealthy, co-dependent and toxic things were becoming in my life had begun shortly before he died, and afterwards I promptly fell apart. I had been tending to the needs of everyone close to me, taking their stuff on as my own, using it as an unhealthy distraction, and I had used up my resources. I was empty. I had nothing left for myself, let alone anyone else.  Panic and anxiety took over. I had a hard time leaving my house, breathing, I had severe chest and heart pains, I cried constantly, I couldn’t sleep, think, function…Out of fear and shame, I clung to the hope/”need” to continue home schooling my, then 8 year old, daughter. (Perhaps an attempt to retain some sense of (false) control?) My behaviours and thinking were completely distorted and irrational. I had no clarity. I was making horrible decisions while, of course, attempting to rationalize them. I was numbing the pain by drinking more and more, and at times of the day I never would have before. I was drowning.

A lifetime of abuse, violence, alcohol dependency, grief and loss, co-dependency, toxic relationships, taking on the role of the "victim", fucked up, irrational thinking, every other “major event” or ”defining moment” that I had ever experienced, buried, avoided, came bursting out, PTSD and GAD symptoms blew up… My entire life caught up to me. I was collapsing, falling apart, scared, and out of control.

As I have since been learning, I was stuck in the "Fight, Flight, or Freeze" state for nearly my entire life. My amygdala had been running the show, without a break, in overdrive, which was causing a whole slew of other things to occur in my mind and body.

...my story isn't over yet... ;)

Recovering My Writing - Healing Through Words

Hello again, or maybe for the first time!!

I've been under construction. Digging deep, and working on myself. Reading and meditation have been where the majority of my time has been spent. The only writing I was doing came in the form of worksheets, answering the questions in the books I was reading, exercises, homework...

I  have been wanting to write. I have been needing to write. Intending to write. Trying to write. Being "encouraged" (pestered!) to write by mom. There were few times I was able to get much out, and my attempt at using a journal just didn't stick. I wanted to get back here, to my blog, and share my stories. I wanted to use my writing, and this platform, to aid in my healing journey, and maybe to help or inspire your own. I attempted to establish a new writing routine. I thought about how to begin again here. I pondered where to begin my story. I just could not seem to bring myself to do it. Nothing came.


The majority of my focus has been on my healing and recovery, but I've also been working with a Job Coach on my Job Search path. I need to find work again, or go to school; something to generate a sustainable income AND feed my passions.

I told myself, despite the feedback around me, that the writing would have to wait, the blog would have to wait. I told myself there were more important things to be doing with my time. These thoughts still did nothing to get me moving, feel inspired or motivated.

The only thing I was really able to see was the work I needed to do on my healing and recovery.
(I am pretty certain most of us know what that tends to looks like...)

Photo

Until now.
I have spent a lot of time in recent weeks in Solitude. Not completely and totally, all alone by myself; I do have a 9 year old daughter, and life just doesn't allow that opportunity! Throughout my life, I have been afraid of solitude, and instead immersed myself in Isolation. This time has been different.

I have come to the point where all roads, messages and suggestions have come together, with flashing arrows pointing at a sign: FOLLOW YOUR PASSIONS.

The fire within is roaring, and my gifts are wanting to expand. Writing, photography, rocks/crystals, nature, inspiring others, these are the things screaming to be heard, seen, felt. I NEED to put some time and effort into expressing these parts of me.

I realize that my story is not over, and so, there really is no specific place to begin in the sharing of it.

I must begin where I currently sit.

I must begin here and now.

Always Grateful for My Journey

To say it has been a long time since I sat down to write would be an understatement. To say everything has been normal, and okay during this time would be a lie.

The year had already gotten off to a difficult start, so when the opportunity came to go to my niece’s wedding in BC, it was a welcome change of pace that was well looked forward to. We would be seeing family that we hadn’t seen in years, most of whom had yet to meet Makiya, a great-nephew and great-niece that I hadn't seen since birth and the other just a baby, and two great-nieces that I hadn’t yet met; I was excited to see and have some fun with them all.

The wedding was beautiful, I cried, baby girl danced her heart out, and the time we shared with family was wonderful; it was so great to see Makiya play with her second cousins and have so much fun. The end of the weekend came, and as we are the “on a whim” type of couple/family, we decided to head off to visit with more family, and joined the entourage on a road trip.

What ended up happening changed our lives.

I’ve spoken often of transition and change, forward motion, movement… This was like nothing I expected. All hopes, dreams, wishes, future thoughts, all came crashing down upon me at once. I don’t mean that in a negative way at all, ever since I was a kid, I just knew, and said often, “be careful what you wish for, you WILL get it, you just never know WHEN.”

It was hard to see it all at the time, there was so much to be afraid of, worried and concerned about, and as it happens in these situations, time just seems to disintegrate before you, becoming more and more of an illusion than a reality.

Slowly, after it was accepted that MAJOR change was happening in our lives, I realized that things were, as they do, happening for a reason. As difficult as it was, I said “OK!”, and hung on, trusting in my journey.

I had fun, real fun, for the first time since my baby girl was born, ( a different kind of fun than that which comes with being "Mommy"; I got to be myself in other ways) maybe longer, and met some AMAZING new friends, but at the same time, I began to lose precious time and opportunity with my girl; heart breaking, heart wrenching, and partially unavoidable. Routines were unavoidably disrupted, dismantled really, and that may not necessarily have been a bad thing in all areas, but I do have my work cut out for me in getting things back under some sort of control.

As I come out from beneath part of the fog, I can appreciate certain things for what they have been, necessary pieces of my journey. I still struggle with parts of it all, but I know that I have to go back to the trust, the knowledge, that it is all unfolding exactly as it should, perfectly on time.

There is a reason for everything, lessons to be learned and shared.

I am excited, grateful, and thankful for it all.

Differences That Don't Belong or The Truth Behind Our Differences

Makiya was racing around the play area, trying to find someone to play with, deciding which piece of equipment to tackle next, pleasantly occupied, so I wandered back over to my mom and her husband, who was intently watching a group of kids playing on the spinner. He quickly filled me in on what he had just witnessed; a little boy, only six or seven years old, nastily, physically, and roughly pushed two girls to the side as he forced his way onto the spinner, proclaiming that “the man goes first!”

I sputtered, coughed, choked as he relayed the story, and my attention returned to the boy. What I continued to see stunned me; I felt sickened.

He seemed to zero in on one little girl in particular, who was only around the age of three. He would literally charge towards her, like a bull having spotted a red flag; the cartoon image of smoke streaming from his ears and flared nostrils flitted through my mind. He pulled her back towards the spinner, yelling something at her as he shoved her forward, and then tossed her aside as he again hopped onto the spinner. There was another, older girl, who tried to intervene, telling him to stop and reminding him of how little this other child was, but he had no qualms about showering aggression back upon her. I stood there, doing a little tippy-toe dance as I felt drawn in, needing to intervene, but then more parents would slide in front, blocking me, only to move again, giving me access to the situation once again; back and forth, back and forth, should I say something, should I not… He paced back and forth, between the two identical spinners, huffing and puffing, “Grrr… the girls get this one too?!” Finally, there was a threat to tell, and an interest in the location of his mom, and the boy raced off.

It took a few moments to locate the mother, sitting, hidden behind the climbing bars and slide, chatting away with another mother. It didn’t take long to realize she wasn’t paying attention to the actions of her son, and even less time to consider that, even at the young age of six or seven, it was very possible this little boy left his mother feeling intimidated, perhaps even scared.

This little boy carried himself with a look upon his face unlike anything I have seen in a child, or maybe I have, in a horror movie. Evil came to mind afterwards, harsh, but true. He looked more like an adult male, a man who had been tortured and tormented, left in a state of rage.

Glad that he hadn’t attempted to unleash any of his hostility on my own daughter, I tried to distract myself from it, and we soon left the play area. As we left, we came upon the boy again. He had removed his shoes and had his feet in the fish ponds; we were in an indoor natural area. He quickly pulled out of the water as he shouted threats at another, older boy and went running after him.

The whole situation left me feeling very agitated and angry, and a little judgemental. I spewed off a few things, including that he would likely spend a lot of time in jail, at an early age.

What it was in truth, was, and is a very sad situation; that a child so young could have been shown, taught and lived through enough horror to leave him in such a state.

(While there are some details that I have purposely left out, in an attempt not to offend anyone, the roots of this little boys actions and words are buried in his family, their lifestyle and beliefs... While I respect all of our insights, beliefs, ways of life, and the right to them, there are differences that are sometimes shown to be just plain offensive and inappropriate.)

Be the Monkey

My thoughts are often dominated by my daughter, pondering what I want her to know, feel, experience and what I don’t. In my mind, for some of the most important things to stick, to become part of her thoughts and beliefs, they need to be instilled early on.

It is important to me that she never feels embarrassed or afraid to be herself, and that she feels free to express her thoughts and feelings, no matter what. I don’t want her to worry about being judged by anyone for any reason.

In order for her to learn that, I believe that she has to see it.

In the most sacred of moments, perfectly timed chances, my daughter catch me by surprise, as we walk down a busy street, stand on a crowded train platform or in line at the store, and she invites me into her magical fantasy world.

 In these situations, I could become trapped by thoughts of what people will think, but instead, my concern is only with what will go through her mind, what she will take away from the moment.

I joyfully dive in, full of pride and a sense of freedom; I become the monkey swinging from trees, the wolf howling at the moon, the performer belting out some wacky song, with moves to go along with it, whatever creature or character I am directed to be, I become. I join her in that wondrous place between imagination and reality, where anything and everything is possible.

When the moment calls for monster that chases and captures children for dinner, or a hungry, roaring lion to feed its hissing snake baby, or a twinkly, spinning dance across the sidewalk, count me in.

When I see her face light up with delight and admiration, I am satisfied on so many levels, knowing that in that one moment, she received a lifetime of positive lessons and memories.

And so did I.

Gift From an Angel

That time of year again, when my mind drifts backwards, slipping back to the day that is now seventeen years ago.

My belief that things happen for reason, nothing is an accident or a coincidence, falters, and I am blindsided by that old feeling of fault and blame.

 Forever etched in my mind and heart; like a scar.

I am sure that for the rest of my life I will remember this day, in full detail. All of the time that led up to the day and even the brief period afterwards; and sadly, it will not be a day of happy recollection.

Deep down inside, I know and I can say, rationally, that what happened was a plan that had nothing to do with me; it was someone else’s journey, the path that was meant for them and my own path did nothing to effect theirs.

Somehow though, I can never seem to fully accept that as the truth.

Had I not been willing to be an active participant in something that I knew was not right, perhaps several other paths wouldn’t have had to take a turn down a horrifying, heartbreaking and dark road. If I had not been involved, maybe their lives would have been brighter and happier, not broken by sadness and loss.

Is it right that I put such a heavy weight upon my own shoulders, by accepting blame that was never voiced? Is it selfish of me, just as I was then, to even consider that they would waste time and energy blaming me?

A family that likely would have encountered the same issues, whether it was me or another, met with something bigger than all of that could have ever amounted to. And it wasn’t someone else, it was me. While I may not be to “blame”, physically, I didn’t cause it to happen, I did add other physical and mental stresses that couldn’t have made things any better, easier or healthier.

What happened taught me though. It taught me a few things then that have absolutely stayed with me.

I learned how sacred and special certain connections are, and how in an instant they can be taken from you. I learned how no one has the right to step in between that which they have no possible way of understanding of the workings to begin with.

That night, seventeen years ago, after being pressured into going to the hospital, I broke down. I couldn’t believe what I saw, and realized that I couldn’t begin to imagine what this family had been, and was now forced into, dealing with. I knew that I had no business being “close” to this family.

I wasn’t running from pain; I was running away from being the cause of pain. From that moment, I couldn’t stand the thought of being involved any longer. My heart was aching, throbbing with pain that I couldn’t fully understand, but that I knew was bigger than anything I had dealt with before.

 I struggled with how to end the misery. After all that had recently happened, who was I to now add my departure to the mix? (There’s that old selfish talk again!) Despite all of the hurt and pain that already existed, it was easier to prolong the disengagement until things had calmed down a little bit. And so, I pretended that everything was the same and that I could handle it all; indifference being one of my strong suits. If I didn’t care, nothing could hurt or affect me.

So, I walked the fine line between being involved and doing my own thing, quietly, carefully and “thoughtfully”.

The old wasn’t ready to be tossed to the side, and soon became that annoying entity that wouldn’t leave, or allow me to quietly go. That friendly old situation that pulls strings, manipulates, threatens and frightens, all with the belief that they will be able to make you change your mind and find your will to actually be their own.

But, for once, it clicked, and I realized I was strong when I needed to.

The attempts at reining me back into the web were never going to succeed, and I wasn’t going to be a player or even a bystander any longer. I broke the tie as quickly as possible and never looked back.

That perfect, sweet, angelic face was more than I ever needed to realize the truth; I learned my lesson.

Thank you angel. And Happy Birthday.

This Day Was Meant For You

Every year at this time, she is filled with a consuming sadness. It leaves her exhausted and confused, despite knowing deep down inside where it stems from.

She was adopted as a baby.

This is a pain I can only imagine. Despite having felt myself at the depths of sorrow and sadness, it was something that feels pale and simple in comparison to her own struggle of emotions and overwhelming sense of aloneness.

Her senses of belonging and importance, her role, those things that make her special, are lost upon her at times; times such as now, her birthday.

She is my mom.

Her birthday is the day that reminds me of exactly what kind of a gift she was then, and continues to be now.

I am grateful that, no matter what the circumstances, she was born. Her beginnings in this world less than what most would dream of for their baby girl, I am grateful that she found her way into a loving family. I am thankful, and grow constantly more appreciative, for the journey that she has walked in her life. It led her to be the one chosen to be my mother, and it brought her and I to the place where we now are.

We are friends; bonded and connected by so many things, our turbulent past is almost laughable.

Happy Birthday Mom! It is your day. It is now, and it always has been. Look back over your journey with excitement and joy as you remember all the steps that you took to bring you here, now. All of these things that make you special, and uniquely you; these things that you are loved and appreciated for that make you amazing!

Today and every day, always remember how special you are to all of us. No one does it like you, and that’s the way it is meant to be!

I love you. 

Thinking out the Kitchen Window

This morning I caught myself, as I often do, staring out the kitchen window as I puttered my way around; washing dishes, putting things away and tidying the counters. My mind began to drift as I realized that what I was seeing is not my own, in many ways, nor is it what I wish to see.

I long to be in a little house, one of my own, and it should be on a quiet street backing onto a field, a forest, a haven of nature and all its beauty. Perhaps, even more, I’d like that little house to be IN the field, forest, or even the mountains, a magical place full of beauty, lessons, real life and true survival.

Instead, I am in an older home, rented, on the side of a major road. A place where I can watch as life, people, cars, all pass by at an alarming speed, the noise rising above and infecting my thoughts, and the mere thought of allowing my child to play and roam freely through our large back yard while I stand at that sink doing dishes causes my heart to skip a beat and my heart to tie in knots.

I wish for the simpler times, simpler in ways that seem to justify the hard, back breaking, painful side that also fully encompassed that life. Worries and concerns that were, perhaps, life threatening, changing, but real. Work, a lot of it, that fostered true appreciation for what was had, held, cherished, consumed.

I think about how different, how special, beautiful and healthy this world could be if only things were just a little simpler, not to be confused with easier.

Later, as I walked down the street, a quick trip to the corner store, my mind was still challenging the world, weaving words together, thoughts I wanted to get out, when I slowly began to take in the sounds of cars that were passing by; the whiiiirs of motors, the constant whispers, shelu, shelu, shelu, as tires tread through the muck of melting snow, the sudden blast of muffled music as a car speeds past.

I felt a little as though I was being smothered by a thick blanket of pollution, aside from the obvious reasons, it was as though all that surrounded me was infecting me with something that I didn’t want, rapidly taking over everything. A poison that was preventing me from feeling, seeing, smelling, tasting and hearing the beauty, stillness; that place from which we all come was being drowned.  

I was thinking how I just wanted out of this city, this place, these “problems and issues”, I wanted to escape to a quieter place all my own. I thought about what I really do want and need in my life, for my life.

And then, I was standing in the middle of an intersection, having been narrowly missed by a car that had mindlessly sped through the red light, as it came to a stop only two feet beside me.

The thoughts swirling around my mind cemented as truth.

The way that we are living should be different…

…it should be nothing like this!

Be Careful What You Wish For – It Will Be Yours to Have

I remember as a teenager “realizing” that I had the ability to “make things happen”. I also quickly understood that with that power came the need to remember an old saying “Be careful what you wish for.”, and I added “Because it WILL come true.”

We know that our thoughts and words hold the power in our lives, and that what we send out there always comes back to us. Perhaps just not always exactly WHEN we ask for it.

Years down the road, there are times that we may find ourselves confused about how or why we got to the place we currently are; the simple answer is because we asked for it to be that way.

I have caught myself a few times suddenly realizing, caught in an AHA moment, where it comes flooding back to me; that wish or desire that I expressed so long ago has FINALLY come to be.

Not always when, and certainly not exactly how we imagined it, but the essence of it still there.

*note to self-ALWAYS be very clear and detailed when asking the universe for something!*

I’ve always remembered that moment when I really understood that I did have this power in my life, but I have forgotten that it is mine to use.

I have the power to create the life, every beautiful little piece, that I truly want.

Did You Know I Was Thinking About You?

My mind strolls around the strangest things sometimes.

Over the years, I have, at certain times, typically times where I was on the brink of turning the page onto a new chapter in my life, pondered over the power of our thoughts. The things that our minds consistently focus on certainly do become our reality, but to what exact extent does that span?

I have experienced, several times, the pattern of first thinking about something or someone, and then having that thought stream into my dreams, or even become something more tangible, be it a line in a book that I am reading, a particular song that suddenly comes on the radio, and, sometimes even suddenly, literally, finding that thing or person that had been running around my thoughts.

More recently I have had some deeper thoughts on the subject. Curiosity has arisen in me as to how deeply our thoughts bring about an effect on the person that has been on our minds. If we are to think about them, and seemingly bring them directly to us through these thoughts, how do THEIR thoughts change, or do they? Do they also suddenly find a reminder about us as, or is it something out of the ordinary and unexpected for them?

If we were to have a dream, a vivid dream, or an out of body experience, that featured a particular person, in a particular place, would the other people we meet have the same encounter on some level, plane, or some type of energized moment in time?

Is it something completely self-created and a completely lone experience, or do our thoughts and dreams bring about some type of blip on another’s radar at some level?

Ghosts, Spirits or Crazy?!

Awhile back I told you the story of my childhood friend, and since then, I really haven’t had any experiences to speak of.

Until my daughter was born, three years ago.

Shortly after Makiya was born, we stayed in an old farm house. The bedroom that we slept in (as a newborn, Makiya was typically with us) had wood panelling on the ceiling and the walls. Never sure if it was simply the knots etc, on the wood or more, we would often witness our two month old daughter laughing, giggling, cooing and generally RESPONDING to the ceiling. Yes, I know, it sounds strange, and my husband, not being much of a believer in ghosts, spirits, etc., was pleasantly baffled. Whatever it was captivated Makiya and appeared to keep her happily entertained.

Eight months later, we moved into the house we currently live in. The history of the house, the previous owner/tenant, was only vaguely hinted at, leaving my husband and I to create the story to our liking, and joking. We made jokes about the spirit of an older lady still being in the house, myself only partially kidding. 

Since we’ve been here I have, increasingly, seen, out of the corner of my eye, black shadows slice through the air. Nothing big, nothing that left me feeling frightened. Usually I second guess what I have seen, and quickly dismiss it. Although denying has become more difficult as it continues to happen.

My daughter for several months began telling us that she was afraid of the rocking chair in her room, because at night it “pinched and rocked.” Adding to that, she speaks of a man at night who plays the drum, singing ABC’s who puts her on the floor. I only add these details because while of course one can never really know for sure where the children come up with the things we say, it just nagged on my mind as I started to really feel as though there MAY be a spirit of some sort in this house.

A month or so ago as I sat in the living room with my daughter, again not quite in my center of vision, but more visible than just a flit of movement in the corner of one’s eye, I saw a larger swoop across the room from the window towards our tree (or the wall of Makiya’s room?!). I examined the room, the windows, the possibility of shadows from the trees, all to no avail; there was no possible way that it was a shadow coming in from outside, the sun was in the wrong place, and really there was nothing I can imagine that it could’ve been.

Roughly a week after that, sitting on the couch reading stories before Makiya’s nap, I suddenly noticed a RED, I don’t know, truly and honestly, it was like a beam, a laser beam?, ending on my shirt. I instantly dismissed it as the sun bouncing off Makiya’s hair and shifted. But it kept following me! It was clearly not the sun playing tricks, but, it did happen until I moved out of sight of the window.

Two nights ago, I was getting my freshly made bread bagged and into the freezer. I left the two bags on the counter as I turned to place one loaf in the freezer and as I turned I saw a large, white swoop and the bags fell to the floor. I instantly felt giddy and burst out laughing as I turned to walk away and down the stairs. I couldn’t believe it, but had to laugh AND get away from the situation.

Of course my husband, the non-believer, had to know what was so funny, and I in turn had no choice but to relay to him what had just happened. I don’t know if there is something wrong inside of my head, I wonder because of all my headaches?!, if I am simply going bonkers, OR, if I am really seeing something!

At this point, I don’t know what to think… how about you!?

Wishing You a Wonderful New Year!

This past year I have been shown much love, understanding, support and empathy from so many of you out there; the people I may not have seen in years and those of you I only know through writing and have yet to meet.

I have once again been shown what a magnificent power this platform, that of on-line social networking, truly has. I’ve been a part of communities that have shown unbelievable love and strength, and that taught courage while instilling wisdom.

I am so grateful for all of you.

On days when a smile is far from reality, YOU have brought me a laugh. During difficult times, I was reminded how lucky I am. My heart was opened, and shown the beautiful pieces of this life that we sometimes lose sight of. We encouraged one another, sometimes guided them or led them back from darkness. We were there for each other, when we needed it and how we needed it.

We have cried together, laughed together and learned together, all while sitting behind our OWN computers, and I find that to be an amazing gift that we have been lucky enough to share.

I can’t wait to be there, together again, as we continue along on our journeys! Have fun, keep smiling, writing, drawing, capturing photo’s, whatever is your passion, DO IT, and keep learning and growing as you do!

Wishing you ALL the best in 2012!

Another Year... another leg of my journey...

As the year comes to an end, once again I find myself contemplating what has happened this year and what I hope to achieve, do, change in the New Year. I have never been good with resolutions, and even in changing my inner dialogue as to my plans for the year ahead, I cannot seem to ever keep up with them.

I hope this year is different.

Last January, I laughed in the face of silly horoscope predicting a year of tears and while not finalizing a plan, intended to get serious about my writing and submitting, and hoped to forge my way into some type of home based income. FAIL.

It certainly has been a year full of tears, personal revelations and a progressive shift in my outlook on life. With all that has happened, all I have learned, re-visited etc., I should think I have more than enough emotions, feelings and thoughts to work out through my writing, and therefore I should be able to get a lot of pieces finished, and, submitted all over the place! The changes that I feel myself upon, could more than benefit from my finding a way to earning some type of income, so I should hope that idea becomes more of a plan!

I know that the months that lay ahead for me also hold plenty more learning, growing and change. I know that my tears aren’t done falling and there will be more pain inducing situations. Am I more prepared for what lies ahead? Probably not. Am I still afraid, of what I’ve learned, what I haven’t and what could be? Absolutely. Am I ready?

Ready or not, here comes the New Year, and I do know that it will all play out just as it should.

 I know that I am on my way, and I know it is all for a reason; my purpose, my journey.