One More Year-One Day At A Time

Oh my word, I haven't had a drink in 34 years!

Today is my birthday. Not my belly button birthday, my day I got clean and sober birthday. Today I am celebrating 34 years of sobriety. Celebrating 34 years of choosing to deal with life and all its challenges, obstacles, defeats, and victories without using drugs or alcohol. 

I don't remember when alcohol wasn't available to me. My older brothers-14, 18, and 21 years older than me- were the kind of guys that thought it was cute to give a baby or toddler a sip of beer, or whatever cocktail they might be drinking. There was always a bottle of whiskey in the kitchen cupboard, and when my dad wanted a glass of wine in the evening, he sent one of us to get it.Alone in the kitchen, no one was there to see me take a swig for myself. If there were family gatherings, not much attention was paid attention to what you were grabbing out of the cooler. After all, the men usually sent a kid to get the beer out of the cooler. So I developed an enjoyment of the taste and effect of alcohol at a very young age. It was an easy way to make life stop hurting for a little while. 

Of course,as soon as I left home it was no problem. I looked older than my age, and was never carded. Really, the first time I was carded was on my 21st birthday. There was a new guy at my liquor store, and he carded me and wished me a Happy 21st birthday. The owner was shocked, since he had been selling me alcohol for 4 years. But, he didn't make a big deal about it. I was a very good customer. By the time I was 21, I was drinking every day. I had started down that road as a teenager with undiagnosed bipolar disorder. I was self medicating with drugs and alcohol for several years. When I was diagnosed, I started letting go of the drugs, but consumed more alcohol to make up for it.

I drank my way through college, and 5 years into my working life. I managed to get good grades, and do good work while I increased my drinking. I had good jobs, but my drinking caused me to make some really, really stupid decisions about men and relationships.Just like the song says "Looking for love in all the wrong places."


I knew that eventually I would have to quit drinking. I knew that it was impossible for me to drink in moderation, and I hated that, because there were things I truly enjoyed and did not want to give up.I truly enjoyed choosing the right wine for a good meal. I truly enjoyed a cold beer on a hot afternoon.But, as much as I wish I was, I am not the kind of person who can stop with one glass of wine, one cold beer, one mixed drink. So, I had to listen to the small voice and quit. The last time I got drunk was on a Sunday night. I had been to a party. I don't remember much about the party, I had been drinking all weekend of course, but for some reason I got really drunk at that party. I think that I totally embarrassed myself, and a friend suggested we leave and go somewhere else. We ended up at her Mother's house. I don't remember how we got there, but I do remember sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee and talking to her mother until 5 o'clock Monday morning. I drove home and got in the shower and then I decided to call in sick and get some sleep. I had never done that before, I always went to work. In fact, I got in the shower intending to get ready for work, but while I was in that shower I started getting quiet, and when I get quiet I can hear the small voice, and the voice said "It's time to heal." 

So, I called in sick, went to bed and slept for a couple of hours. When I woke up I felt like crap.I never got hungover, but that day I was hungover. I spent some time feeling sorry for myself, but then I remembered hearing the voice. I knew that it was time to stop numbing the pain, time to stop dulling the memories and to start healing the wounds. I called my doctor, and went to see her. I had a good talk with her and she referred me to a therapist. She called him right then, and he saw me that afternoon.It was Monday, January 19, 1981. The therapist said that he would work with me, but he also suggested that I go to AA. He got out the phone book, and handed me the phone. I made the call and found a meeting that evening. That was the beginning of my journey to health and wholeness, a journey I am still on. It is not an easy journey to start. It is not an easy journey to continue, but it is a journey I believe we must all undertake.

So, here I am. I haven't had a drink, oh how I have wanted to, but I have not had a drink.My Higher Power and I are taking a journey. One day at a time.


Peace and Blessings,
EstherBelle

Valentines Day

Valentines Day. Such a lovely holiday, let's all celebrate love.Yada Yada Yada. (can you see how I feel about it?) But Valentines day can be a minefield for those, like me, that have mixed experiences of the day.

Oh, I hated Valentines day as a child. The Fat Lady started out as the Fat Girl, you know. Back in the dark ages when I was in elementary school 'self-esteem' wasn't a part of the psycho-babble yet. So those of us who were outcasts for whatever reason hated Valentines day. Oh, it was all so innocent. For a few days before we would spend our art class time creating a receptacle for the valentines. There was red and pink construction paper and paper doily scraps everywhere, and the Elmer's glue residue stuck to your fingers. At least that was fun, peeling the Elmer's glue from your fingers.

Then the big day arrived, and we were allotted time to deposit our valentines in the boxes. A mimeographed list of names had gone home with us,and we were free to create to our hearts content. If you were lucky your Mom would let you buy a box of school valentines, 32 to a box back then plus the bonus teachers card. So, every one went around and put their little cards in the box. Then of course we had the treats our room mothers dutifully provided and everyone looked at their valentines. As you reached in your box and took out 2 or 3 cards, after all the teacher had to give you one, and maybe you had one friend, and then some dumb boy had to tell you why you were outcast, you did your best to make sure no one else saw. But it seemed like they all knew anyway. But, you knew that if you showed any emotions they would have power over you, so no tears. You bravely told everyone that you wanted to wait and look at them at home.

Fortunately all of those classroom Valentine parties were in elementary grades, and you didn't have to repeat that particular little piece of Hell again once you reached middle school. But, Valentines day was still an empty day, void of love, and rife with bad memories.

Decades pass, and one day a tall thin man crosses a street in a small town in Missouri. He teaches you, among other things, that yes, you are able to love and to be loved. He manages to surprise you every year with a lovely expression of love on Valentines day. You give him a small plush animal for his collection. A collection that he started when you gave him his first one. A silly little collection for a big tough Marine, but a collection that is cherished by him.

Then circumstances change again. The love of your life is taken away from you by a drunk driver, and you get thrown into the long, difficult act of grieving. Every special day, every holiday is another reminder that you are alone again. That no one will make you smile, and tell you you are loved and ask you to be their valentine. Valentines day is a difficult, difficult day for those who are on the outside looking in. Those who have never had a love, and there are many, those who have lost their love and are all alone again.Valentine's Day is hard.

The other holidays are difficult, but there are ways to get through. But Valentine's Day, that is hard. Everywhere you look, from the aisles of the grocery store, to the restaurant ads in the paper, the commercials on TV you are reminded that this is a time for love and a time for lovers, and you feel all alone. It seems as if the whole world is operating two by two, that no matter which way you turn you are surrounded by couples, and you no longer have the person that made you part of a couple. Valentines day is long and lonely.

If you know someone who is alone this year on Valentines day, please reach out to them. A note, a small card, a phone call. Let them know that they are not alone in this world. Let them know that another human being cares about them. See, we all need a human touch. We may be rooted in faith,and know that there is a Creator,and that that Creator loves us. We may know that there is in us a part of the Divine, and that there is no where we can go that the Divine is not with us. But, the love of Most High, as wonderful as it is doesn't have the human touch unless we provide it. We are made in the image of the Creator, we are told,and so we must be the arms and hands and voice of love. We must be the human touch. There is someone out there in need of your voice, or a hug, or just the touch of your hand on their sleeve. So, make sure that you do something special for your sweetheart. Do not ever let a day go by, and especially on the holiday that is about love, make sure the one you love, the one who loves you, knows that you never take one moment for granted. But, please, if you have an extra moment reach out to one of the lonely ones. They will appreciate you more than you can know.

Love Is Stronger Than Death

Love is stronger than death.
So I must be content to know that
love is not affected by death-- ...
it doesn't end, it doesn't diminish,
it doesn't change.
Instead, love is immortalized
and eternalized through death.
And the possibility of that love ever
being damaged or broken
is eliminated forever.
I'll put my trust in love.

 

Another Year

Oh my word, I haven't had a drink in 33 years!

Today is my birthday. Not my belly button birthday, my day I got clean and sober birthday. Today I am celebrating 33 years of sobriety. Celebrating 33 years of choosing to deal with life and all its challenges, obstacles, defeats, and victories without using drugs or alcohol. The last few years have been challenging, but this past year I managed to quiet some of the demons, the depression, and even deal with the struggles with less angst.

I don't remember when alcohol wasn't available to me. My older brothers-14, 18, and 21 years older than me- were the kind of guys that thought it was cute to give a baby or toddler a sip of beer, or whatever cocktail they might be drinking. There was always a bottle of whiskey in the kitchen cupboard, and when my dad wanted a glass of wine in the evening, he sent one of us to get it.Alone in the kitchen, no one was there to see me take a swig for myself. If there were family gatherings, not much attention was paid attention to what you were grabbing out of the cooler. After all, the men usually sent a kid to get the beer out of the cooler. So I developed an enjoyment of the taste and effect of alcohol at a very young age. It was an easy way to make life stop hurting for a little while.

Of course,as soon as I left home it was no problem. I looked older than my age, and was never carded. Really, the first time I was carded was on my 21st birthday. There was a new guy at my liquor store, and he carded me and wished me a Happy 21st birthday. The owner was shocked, since he had been selling me alcohol for 4 years. But, he didn't make a big deal about it. I was a very good customer. By the time I was 21, I was drinking every day. I had started down that road as a teenager with undiagnosed bipolar disorder. I was self medicating with drugs and alcohol for several years. When I was diagnosed, I started letting go of the drugs, but consumed more alcohol to make up for it.

I drank my way through college, and 5 years into my working life. I managed to get good grades, and do good work while I increased my drinking. I had good jobs, but my drinking caused me to make some really, really stupid decisions about men and relationships.Just like the song says "Looking for love in all the wrong places."


I knew that eventually I would have to quit drinking. I knew that it was impossible for me to drink in moderation, and I hated that, because there were things I truly enjoyed and did not want to give up.I truly enjoyed choosing the right wine for a good meal. I truly enjoyed a cold beer on a hot afternoon.But, as much as I wish I was, I am not the kind of person who can stop with one glass of wine, one cold beer, one mixed drink. So, I had to listen to the small voice and quit. The last time I got drunk was on a Sunday night. I had been to a party. I don't remember much about the party, I had been drinking all weekend of course, but for some reason I got really drunk at that party. I think that I totally embarrassed myself, and a friend suggested we leave and go somewhere else. We ended up at her Mother's house. I don't remember how we got there, but I do remember sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee and talking to her mother until 5 o'clock Monday morning. I drove home and got in the shower and then I decided to call in sick and get some sleep. I had never done that before, I always went to work. In fact, I got in the shower intending to get ready for work, but while I was in that shower I started getting quiet, and when I get quiet I can hear the small voice, and the voice said "It's time to heal."

So, I called in sick, went to bed and slept for a couple of hours. When I woke up I felt like crap.I never got hungover, but that day I was hungover. I spent some time feeling sorry for myself, but then I remembered hearing the voice. I knew that it was time to stop numbing the pain, time to stop dulling the memories and to start healing the wounds. I called my doctor, and went to see her. I had a good talk with her and she referred me to a therapist. She called him right then, and he saw me that afternoon.It was Monday, January 19, 1981. The therapist said that he would work with me, but he also suggested that I go to AA. He got out the phone book, and handed me the phone. I made the call and found a meeting that evening. That was the beginning of my journey to health and wholeness, a journey I am still on. It is not an easy journey to start. It is not an easy journey to continue, but it is a journey I believe we must all undertake.

So, here I am. I haven't had a drink, oh how I have wanted to, but I have not had a drink.My Higher Power and I are taking a journey. One day at a time.


Peace and Blessings,
EstherBelle

From Tragedy comes a friendship

So, a few weeks ago I got a message from a friend. She was thinking of us and wondered if I would like to go out for lunch on Saturday. Well, of course I would-I don't get out much these days and I am always ready to have lunch with a friend! Her invitation was eagerly accepted, and her thinking of us was gratefully acknowledged. She was thinking of us because it was the anniversary of my husbands death.

So the day after the anniversary I had a lovely lunch with my friend and her family. This week, she messaged me again, and I spent a beautiful morning with my friend and her 13 month old daughter. We went to the park, we stopped for lunch, and we enjoyed each others company. It is good to have friends.

I will most likely never have grandchildren, so I don't get to spend much time in the company of babies or toddlers. Anyone who knows me knows how much I love little ones, so I am doubly grateful to my friend that she gives me the opportunity to spend time with her baby.

All of this is a good thing, but the really amazing thing is how she and I became friends.

My husband was killed by a drunk driver. I've said before,in our case the words 'drunk driver' mean a 22 year old girl. A young woman with her entire life before her. Recently graduated from college, with honors. From all reports, she was a goal oriented, studious college student.She is very close to her family, she goes to church on Sunday. After her May graduation she went to work, as an accountant and moved into her own apartment.

My friend worked with the young woman who killed my husband. She and some of her co-workers were very angry with the young woman, and they decided they wanted to know more about the man she killed. So, somehow, they tracked me down to the thread I post daily on the Weight Watchers message boards. Don't ask me how, apparently young people are way more computer savvy than me. Anyway, my friend was the one who posted a message to me on that thread.

We entered into an email correspondence, and then we met for coffee, and then we had lunch, and we kept in touch and became friends. She is a  lovely young woman with a good husband and an adorable daughter. Truth is, if you saw us together you would probably assume we are related, she has the same redhead coloring and freckles that I do. Her daughter probably looks like I could be her grandmother to people who see us together. This makes me happy.

I firmly believe we can't have too many friends in our lives, and I also believe that sometimes people are  brought to our lives for a reason. Now, I don't know why my friend needs me, but I know that she gives me the opportunity to love a new friend, and to spend time with and adore that precious daughter of hers.

It is amazing isn't it, a tragic situation steals the love of my life from me, plunges me into financial ruin that is unending,  and yet brings me a new friend with a child I can love. When I think about that I can't be untouched. In the midst of tragedy, a gift. For that I am grateful beyond words.I am reminded that precious jewels-and what is more precious than friendship-come from great adversity.



I am an indestructible fortress,
I am an unassailable rock,
I am a precious jewel.
--Ancient Irish Prayer

 I am not saying to you that I don't have days where I am nothing but a quivering mass of jello, but what I do have is an innate belief that I am indestructible. In fact, I am fond of saying, you can't kill me it's been tried.OK, so I know that is a slight exaggeration but most humor is. What I am saying is that I am strong enough to withstand what the world has to throw at me. If we believe we have the strength to take what the world is handing out, then we journey forth into the world in a much different manner. Our very presence changes. Our posture is taller, our countenance brighter. We shine like the precious jewel we are. Now where do jewels come from, with the exception of pearls, most things that we consider precious jewels come from the earth, from dirt and rock, created by great pressure.Not the most glamorous of beginnings So it would seem to me that the more the world throws at us, the more we manage to crawl our way through as more than a survivor, as a victor, the more precious jewel we become. Even pearls start out in an unglamorous place. Now as much as I enjoy an appetizer of oysters on the half shell, it isn't a pleasant thing to look at.But look at how that oyster reacted to an irritant that it couldn't get rid of, it surrounded that irritating little grain of sand, piece of debris, with beauty.And a precious jewel was created from irritation and probably a bit of pain.

So, out of the ashes a precious jewel of friendship has been created.Is there something hard in your life that you can look at and find the jewels? It is my experience they are there. And for that I am truly thankful.

Peace and Blessings,
EB

p.s.-if you are led to share to help us get the car fixed the paypal button is always there to the right. I hate asking, but asking for help is a lesson I am trying to learn.


 

One More Day

Well, today snuck up on me. How can a year have passed since I posted this
http://eb-thefatladythinks.blogspot.com/2011/01/january-19-1981-january-19-2011.html ?

What a year it has been, my 30th year of sobriety. Today marks my 31st anniversary of the day I chose to get sober. I have to say the last few months have been the most difficult in those 31 years, and that is saying something as my life has very rarely been without difficulty. But, even as I have battled my demons- stress, addiction, depression, illness, etc.- the last few months, I have continued to work on my sobriety.


There have been many times lately when I said to myself out loud "Damn, I need a drink." Fortunately my next thought has been "Stop it, you don't drink."  I am not ashamed  to admit that that next thouhgt comes slowly some days. Sobriety really is one day at a time. For me it is one moment at a time most days.

Why 'One day at a time'?

The best thing about the future is that it comes only one day at a time.~~Abraham Lincoln~~

For me that means I need to concentrate on living in the moment. Being present and living in the moment helps to keep me focused on the task at hand. When we live in the moment, one day at a time, we don't have time to become mired in regrets and worries over what happened and how we SHOULD have done. No guilt, no condemnation.Which is not to say that if we hurt someone we should not make amends. It is to say that if we live in the present, the past can no longer hurt us. We can let it go, forgive ourselves and others, and choose to live  for today.Living in the present means that we no longer have to constantly review the past, trying to explain our actions or the actions of others. No more guilt or blaming. Living in the present means that we do not have to worry, assume, obsess about what may happen in the future. If we do that we sometimes project unwarranted negative outcomes to things, when all we really have to do is deal with the outcomes of our actions today, this day.

So, today, this day I will celebrate one more day of sobriety. One more day of hangin' in there, no matter how difficult life has become.

Easy? No, I don't think it is ever easy, but just because a thing is hard to do doesn't make it any less worthwhile.  

November is RSD/CRPS Awareness Month

Awareness months seem commonplace these days, and so it can be easy to ignore them. Then of course, something hits home with you in a personal way, and you feel the need to be part of the awareness. As the parent of a young man with autism, I have written about autism awareness. This month, I am writing as a person with RSD.

What is RSD/CRPS you ask? Well, according to the National Organization of Rare Disorders "Reflex sympathetic dystrophy syndrome (RSDS), also known as complex regional pain syndrome(CRPS), is a rare disorder of the sympathetic nervous system that is characterized by chronic, severe pain. The sympathetic nervous system is that part of the autonomic nervous system that regulates involuntary functions of the body such as increasing heart rate, constricting blood vessels, and increasing blood pressure. Excessive or abnormal responses of portions of the sympathetic nervous system are thought to be responsible for the pain associated with reflex sympathetic dystrophy syndrome."

Now, this post is not to seek sympathy, but to increase awareness. So many live with what are sometimes called invisible diseases. It can be difficult for those who love us to come to terms with the fact that we are in pain. My late husband hated my pain more than me. He felt completely helpless, not an easy thing for a loving spouse to feel. The first few years-I experienced my first symptoms in 2001 on our honeymoon-I felt a lot of guilt. Yes, guilt. It isn't easy knowing that family times and plans depend on how Mom is feeling that day.

It took a year before I found the doctors I rely on. Rare disorders are like that. Most doctors have limited knowledge of the disorder and even less knowledge of how to deal with it. I was misdiagnosed by several doctors. Really unfortunate because if diagnosed early there is a chance to stop the progression. I was progressed into phase 3 of 4 before I found the right doctors.Still, I was not finished with unknowing medical professionals. After I found my wonderful neurologist, who not only knew what was wrong with me, but knew how to help me, I had to change my primary care  physician. The one I had been using quite simply looked at the diagnosis from the neurologist and told me there was no such thing as RSD and that I was imagining it.

Now RSD has been in the medical literature for 150 years. The name has changed through the years, in fact the name has changed since I developed it in 2001, but it has been written about since the Civil War. So, you can imagine how disheartening it was for a physician I trusted to look me in the eye and tell me I was imagining the most excruciating pain known to exist. He simply refused to continue treating me if I persisted in seeing my neurologist for treatment of the RSD. For me, this is underscores why  we need to have an RSD/CRPS awareness month.Even doctors need to be educated.

Twenty five years ago when I first started seeking answers for what was different about my son, it became obvious that educating people was going to be part of the equation. I had never met anyone dealing with autism, and so I found myself researching and studying so that I could educate family, friends, even the doctors and educators we were dealing with. Fast forward,and I am find the same need to educate when it comes to RSD. Luckily, we now have more avenues open to research, share information and connect with others doing the same thing. All too often when you are dealing with something you can feel isolated, as if you are the only person in the world who has to go through what you are going through. In this day of social networks and awareness months it is so good to know that there are others out there who understand.

While no two people have exactly the same experiences, it is always helpful to know that you are not alone. This disorder is not easy to live with. There is no cure, and as horrific as enduring the physical pain can be, the psychological and spiritual pain can be even worse. It is not easy being in pain, being treated badly by the medical establishment,misunderstood by friends and family, needing large doses of narcotics just to get through the day. It will wear you out. It isn't even easy to describe the pain you are feeling.OK, imagine that someone has set your nervous system on fire, is applying a cattle prod and attempting to shred the flesh from your bones with a giant meat fork, all at the same time. I told you it was hard to describe the pain that an RSD patient endures. NOW multiply what you imagine that might feel like by about 10,000.You might be getting an idea of the severity of the pain. Honestly, that is the best picture I can give you. Now imagine that the pain that is constant at about a 6-7 out of 10 can be spiked up to about a 12 out of 10 (I am not exaggerating) simply because the fabric of the skirt you are wearing was touched by a puff of wind. The pain colors every moment of your life. Every breath you take. Am I enjoying a sunset on my deck? What if the wind comes up, what if the fabric in this skirt is scratchy, what if I simply breathe deep and the pain flares? You have to think about these things,and learn to deal with them.

Of course, RSD is not the only disease/disorder that involves chronic pain, there are way too many. It just happens to be one of the diseases I have (it is the only one I talk a lot about, I won't bore you with the other 4). There are an estimated 5 million people worldwide suffering from RSD.The reason I talk about RSD is so that other people can be encouraged to talk about what they are dealing with. It is my small way of saying that you can learn to manage your pain, and perhaps even to manage to have a life in spite of it.

You can learn to manage the pain with medication, good doctors, and with the meditation and breathing that you use for so many things.For me Faith is so important in learning to manage something like this.Some days you might be stuck in poor pitiful me mode, but Creator will not leave you there. Most High will whisper to you that your next blog post should talk about the pain. So Spirit will nudge you to share your stories, share about the pain that is so integral to what is going on in your life.Share that I really do believe I have the choice to pray for healing, the choice to deal with the disease should healing not come. Life is all about choice. I choose faith in my Creator to overcome even the most painful disease known to man. What choices do you have today?

On Tough Times

Tough times come to all of us. Some tougher than others, but all of us will experience challenges and obstacles in life. Today I am reminded of something I wrote not long after my husband was killed. It is as applicable today as it was then, so I think I will share it.

The quote for the day is...
People say, "What is the sense of our small effort?" They cannot see that we must lay one brick at a time, take one step at a time.~~Dorothy Day~~

This one has applications for my life right now, and for our weight loss journeys, our spiritual growth, our every day existence. Right now, it is all I can do to put one foot in front of the other. Everything I know about life, everything I believe has come into play these last few weeks, and the next months and years as I look to build a different life than I had expected to be building. But, that life will only be built one brick at a time. That's all anything is built by. Fortunately, for me, I have most of my bricks in place. I have a good foundation of friends and family, a strong belief in my Higher Power, bolstered by years of study and practice. I am blessed by these bricks, and blessed that they are available to me. One step at a time, that is all I can do, that is all any of us can do.

On Being Poor

Yes, I know I just took a vacation, but honestly it didn't cost much, and it was necessary for our mental health. The whole trip cost just a bit more than one months mortgage,and that would not have saved my house from foreclosure.Yes, I am aware that some would question the decision I made to take a trip, but honestly the need for healing, and the spiritual benefits far outweighed any other factors and were well worth it. We would not have made the trip if we had not had free hotel rooms available and a car that gets outstanding gas mileage!

Finding a place to rent has become an exercise in frustration. I am finding that no one will take a chance on low income people. Frankly, if I had the income level that is being required I would be able to afford the mortgage payments. I have no other debt, my car is payed for, I have no credit cards, and I am very good at living frugally. All I need is a safe place for my son and I to live.

I realize that most people would choose to live in a safe neighborhood, in fact most people take living in a safe neighborhood for granted. But when your resources are low, as so many these days, finding that place that feels safe is nigh on to impossible. So once again, I am seeking a miracle. Been there done that, but this morning I am wondering if my miracle quota has reached it's limit.

Wow, just typing this is making me feel vulnerable and I am not known for feeling vulnerable. I am know for my strong positive outlook. I am known for counseling others to remain positive and in the moment. So this morning I am looking at my circumstances,and trying to ignore them as I seek a solution.

Ignoring circumstance may seem foolish, but how many times are we in a position where we have to do just that? When talking to a landlord this morning I had to give a synopsis of our challenges, and even as I spoke I assured the nice man that we weren't quite as pathetic as we sounded, but I also was not surprised that he couldn't take the chance.. Yes, we have moved from crisis to crisis in recent memory, but honestly all we need is a chance to build on our healing and go forward. OK, so my husband was unemployed for 5 months, and then killed by a drunk driver on his way home from the first day on a new job, and then I fell at work requiring surgery, then fell at home breaking my leg, then lost my job, then my neurological disease worsened, then my autistic son became seriously ill and I got behind in the mortgage and need to move because of foreclosure. I do sound like a lost cause.

But I refuse to believe that. I refuse to believe that I won't find a safe place to live,and I refuse to believe that circumstances will keep us from being safe. I just refuse. Does that make me an idealistic dreamer? Perhaps, but these days our dreams for the future are all that we have to hold on to, and we do have dreams for the future-we just don't have a place to live. That puts us in company with so many people in this country and around the world. Yes, it is a scary place to be.

But as one of my mantras has always been "fear is the mindkiller", I have to ignore the fear and move forward. The only way to move forward is by continuing to have faith that we will find that safe place, that place where we can heal and reach for our dreams. Faith doesn't always make sense, but it is necessary. Faith means believing even when circumstance tells you different. Faith means that in the words of my son "Just because you know the truth doesn't mean you don't believe."

So yes, I know the truth, we have no place to live. We have major obstacles to finding a place to live, but we have to continue believing that this circumstance is not the end of the story.We have to continue ignoring the circumstance and not let the current obstacles keep us from looking forward. I know that somewhere there is a place for us, I just haven't found it yet.

Well, as the opening to this blog says, some days I may celebrate, some days I may whine and vent. But always, I am going to share my stories. This morning I needed to whine and vent, but in doing so I have found my positive outlook hiding in my story. Time to put one foot in front of the other and act out that faith!!

Peace and Blessings,

Mount Rushmore

There are amazing places in our country. One
place we should all try to visit is the Black Hills area in South Dakota. I think I could spend weeks here and never run out of things to do. Of course,no visit would be complete without a visit to Mt. Rushmore.

The first time we visited here was on our family honeymoon trip 10 years ago. It was the most amazing trip, and we decided then and there to return for our 10th Anniversary. Well, a lot of things can happen in 10 years, and Mr. Bill was killed beofre we could make good on that decision. But, my son and I decided that we needed to follow that dream, and here we are!

One of the more memorable parts of that family honeymoon trip was our visit to Mt. Rushmore. It was memorable for so many reasons. It is a most inspiring place. The four Presidents were chosen to represent the first 150 years of our country history. When you are approaching on the road, your first glimpse of the carvings will take your breath away, and standing on the view terrace of the memorial looking up at the mountain will give you goosebumps. But, on that trip, another life changing event occurred in my life. Walking up that path I experienced the first symptoms of RSD. I was walking towards the mountain when I felt the first excruciating pain that would become a constant in my life.  I had to find a place to sit down as I waited for it to pass. I remember thinking that I had never felt anything like it before-not when I had cancer, not when I broke my back in a car wreck, not when I was in labor for 72 hours. No pain I had ever felt came close to what I felt there in the shadow of the mountain. It passed in a couple of minutes, and I chalked it up to being in the car for hours, needing more exercise, etc. I had no idea then that the pain in my right leg that day would eventually become constant and spread to the rest of my body. That day it was just a momentary nuisance.

This trip I am using a walker, and taking my time, because that momentary nuisance is now a constant presence in my body. One of the several chronic pain conditions that plague my middle aged body. But, as I have mentioned before, the pain in my body is never allowed to win, never allowed to define who I am or what I choose to do. Of course, that is not to say that it hasn't changed the way I do things. So, me and my friend PurpleWalker,were at Mt. Rushmore again yesterday, walking up that same path where I met RSD for the first time.

I chose to let my son explore on his own for a bit as I sat and relaxed in on the view terrace. Soon, a young woman came to sit near me as she caught her breath. She asked about my walker, and during the conversation she shared that she was recently diagnosed with breast cancer. We talked about attitude being the key when battling any problem. I shared some of my health history, and assured her that she was more than her disease, and that her disease could ravage her body but that it could never steal her spirit. We spent a sweet half hour sharing, and I believe it was good for both of us.

Healing comes. Healing comes in its own time and its own way.Spirit uses places and people to bring the peace that is necessary for healing to take hold. Spirit is strong here in the Black Hills, and a few cleansing tears have fallen, but the opportunity to encourage the young cancer patient was truly a moment that could only have been orchestrated by Spirit.

I have been feeling useless lately. I have felt like a failure, that I have failed my beloved husband by not being able to keep the house he was so proud of buying for us. I have felt that I am failing my son because our finances are so unstable. Choosing to make this trip was difficult, after all, my house is in foreclosure. This trip is costing roughly the equivalent of one mortgage payment. Not enough to save our house, and honestly I think we are receiving a better return on the money! Yesterday I was able to encourage a stranger. I was able to say to her that cancer is survivable, I've done it. I was able to say to her that pain does not define you in any way, and that you must believe that you can heal. You must hold on optimism and be open to the lessons that Spirit will arrange for you. I felt the healing taking place in her, but more importantly I felt healing happening in me.

I am not a failure as long as I am open to the urging of Spirit, as long as I can be where Spirit can use me. I am not useless. My diseased body is not who I am, and I may have to do things differently, but I can still manage to be where Spirit needs me to be. I am able to persevere and be available for healing. Someone else's, maybe, but my own for sure!!!!  

Detour

Lately life is like the lyrics to that old song...

Detour, there's a muddy road ahead, detour
Paid no mind to what it said
Detour, oh these bitter things I find,
Should have read

That detour sign

This week, the words really hit home as we are planning our healing road trip. There really are detours because large sections of the highway we would usually zip north on are closed due to flooding along the Missouri river. Now this flooding started months ago, and really should be clear by  now, but of course, the waters are taking their time to recede.Even after they recede, the road will need extensive repair. So, detour will be the theme of our first day on the road.

But, you know, it kind of seems a fitting way to start the trip. Life has been just one big detour after another for us.Just this morning, my son and I were checking maps and planning our route. Since we love road trips, we came to the conclusion that the worst thing that will happen is that we will see some places we have never seen before. Not an unpleasant outcome.

Last year, we inadvertently became part of a Homecoming celebration in a small southern town because of a detour. It was great fun actually, people were lining the street waiting for the parade to start, and everyone waved as we drove through. Pretty cool detour.

Now, in life, some of the detours aren't that pleasant, but as long as you keep heading forward, you manage to get through them, or around them. That is actually why we are taking this trip, one more step forward in our healing process. In my experience healing has never been a direct route to begin with. How many times have we had the flu and thought we were over it to be sick again a few hours later. Healing is a process. Not always a pleasant process. The fever that indicates our body is attempting to heal itself is often more uncomfortable than the original problem. But, it is something that has to happen, just like the inevitable detours along life's road.

Detours often make you think that you can't get there from here, but that is never true. Detours only mean you can't get there the way you originally planned. The original route has been compromised somehow, the road is underwater, or being constructed, but there is always an alternate route.Will it feel unfamiliar? Yes. Will it take you over roads you haven't previously traveled? Probably. But, as long as you follow the signs it will get you where you need to go, and once in a while you may find yourself being welcomed as part of a celebration you didn't know was taking place, along a road not to nowhere, but a road to recovery.

Just make sure you heed that detour sign!

Conversation with the Grackle

I have mentioned that I have a depression disorder. I don't talk about all that much, as I take good meds, and I have an excellent therapist.So, I honestly don't worry too much. But, as with all of us with mental health diseases, I have days when all of my coping skills come to naught. I have always called these days my BlackBird days.

BlackBird days are the days when it feels as if a huge black bird has flown into my field of vision, wings outspread, covering my eyes and my mind from seeing anything but the darkness. I knew I had the right therapist when shortly after beginning to work with her, she mentioned something she called Black Bird days!! I nearly wept with joy to know that she got it!!! She is an integral part of my healing and growth.

My BlackBird days are much fewer and farther between than they have ever been, and when I do have them it seems it is more a matter of grief than mental illness these days. Grief, is the most difficult process!! It rolls over me in the oddest times, just when I think I am healing here comes a black day!! This week was my late husband's birthday. Plus I am dealing with the feelings that my mobility issues have brought to the fore, and the weather is just middle of July, midwest UGLY!! So there I was sitting on the deck, kinda feeling sorry for myself, which I honestly try not to allow!!

It was early morning, my favorite time of day for my deck. The sun just starting to approach the horizon in beautiful cotton candy pinks and pale lemony yellows. The morning song of the birds a wonderful backdrop to meditation.Then I saw the grackle, sitting at the end of my deck. Now a grackle is part of the family of birds known as blackbirds. It is often mistaken for a crow, it is longer, and its tail is different,and its behavior is a bit different. The thing I love about watching the grackles in my yard is that they do not hop, they walk, and the adult birds are very concerned about the younger birds. Usually, though, the grackles don't get very close to my deck, they tend to stay out in the open in the yard. So I was surprised to have a grackle sitting there about 6 feet away.

Of course, I said good morning, I always speak to any of the birds or animals that visit me when I am on the deck. Most often the bird or squirrel will scamper away, unless it is one of my regular visitors. the critters who have become used to me being there. This bird was not one of my regular visitors, so I was surprised when he just looked me in the eye, and walked a bit closer.

Now, this is the part where you can decide that I imagine things, and I would not disagree with you. But, to quote Albert Einstein...Imagination is more important than knowledge.

The grackle continued to look at me, and then the grackle spoke to me. No, the grackle did not SPEAK with words, but the grackle did speak, in the not unpleasant squawk of the grackle-it is less jarring than a crow. Hmmm, I took it to be a greeting, good morning right back 'atcha' type of thing, so I continued to speak to the grackle.

I thanked brother grackle for visiting me on my deck, and I talked about the weather, and all the time the grackle was listening and vocalizing. We had some companionable silences, and then I began to tell brother grackle about my images of Black Birds. I shared that the image of the Black Bird blinding my vision has always been uncomfortable for me. While I was sharing, brother grackle turned a bit, and I saw the most amazing thing. Grackles, are not black! Oh they look black when you see them in your yard, but sitting this close, and in the morning sunshine I saw the truth. This bird was anything but black, the feathers are wonderfully iridescent in all of the colors you can imagine!Well, that made me think!

So I talked to the grackle about his feathers, and the beautiful colors, and I started to see that my mood this morning was not a part of my depression,not a part of any illness but a normal part of the grieving process. I have several things that I am grieving. Of course, the loss of my husband is the major loss, but other parts of my life are lost to me more every day. Because of the neurological diseases I no longer am able to sew, and I miss sewing. I can no longer wield a chef's knife with skill as I cook, and I miss cooking. I can no longer just decide to go for a walk, or visit a museum. Walking is more and more difficult and painful and I must decide whether I need my cane, my walker, or my wheelchair today.

But, sitting there seeing the beautiful colors of the black bird on my deck was a gift. I could see clearly that things aren't always as you originally perceive them, and just because something changes, doesn't look like you thought it should or would, doesn't mean that it doesn't look like it is supposed to! I often say perception is reality. But the really marvelous thing is that when your perception of something changes, the reality must change with it. So, instead of sitting on my deck feeling the oppression of a BlackBird day coming on, I could learn to see that not all black birds are black. Not all sadness is depression, and sometimes you just have to grieve the things that you have lost. Part of the grieving process is to to come to terms with the fact that your life will be different, and to help you move towards that new normal.

I thought about all of these things as I sat there with the grackle, and then the grackle turned and walked away. I am so glad the grackle visited me this morning, blessed me with a conversation and a lesson. Amazing that Spirit would send me a helper in the form of something I feared-a Black Bird. How often do our fears keep us from perceiving things as there are? Perception, just like life, is changeable, and those who can adapt will always be open  to the beauty that can come even in the form of a black bird who wasn't ever black to begin with!!

Road Trip-a Healing prescription!!

The summer was always our favorite time of year! Starting with Mothers Day until the end of July we were celebrating something every couple of weeks. Mothers Day-Memorial Day-Fathers Day-My birthday-4th of July-My husbands birthday-and our wedding anniversary, every two weeks or so all summer long. That all changed for me when he was killed a few weeks after our wedding anniversary, and the long, difficult healing process of grief began.

The morning before my husband was killed, we sat on the deck for a couple of hours. We talked and planned. Mr. Bill was starting a new job that day, and we discussed getting back on track financially, and we discussed our 10th wedding anniversary. We were married at a courthouse,our son the best man and  the snack bar attendant as my witness. We planned to have a vow renewal, a small wedding for our 10th anniversary.A wedding, with a beautiful dress that I had already designed- I spent a long time in the theatre as a costume designer-it would have been a spectacular dress! We would make the same trip that we made as a family honeymoon trip-going back to the Black Hills, a wonderfully spiritual magical place that we all adore.As my friend Michelle referred to it,"the place where love and family became one!"

July 30 is that 10th anniversary. As part of my continuing healing, I have just booked the trip for my son and I to take. We are not going until a few weeks later, I want this trip to be a new beginning, and if we went on the anniversary it would hurt too much.So we will go after all of the days that are no longer celebratory for me, and we are hoping to continue learning how to celebrate life again.

I firmly believe in the idea of sacred space. I after all, spend a lot of time on my deck, which is for me a place of safety and sacredness. Most faith traditions have an idea of sacred space. For me, sacred space is often more a state of being than an actual place, but there are also places where we can instantly feel more at peace, more able to access the things of Spirit. My deck is sacred space, but when I am away from home it is almost as if that sacred place is where ever I am. I visited the home of a dear friend, and her deck, which looked nothing like mine, felt the same, and was for me a refuge of meditation and worship. Staying in a convention hotel, I once slipped out of the room without waking my roommate to find a lovely secluded chair in the lobby that felt like a sacred space for my prayers and meditation. A sacred space feels right, it feels safe, and nurturing, and healing.

One of Mr. Bill and my favorite ways to spend a Sunday afternoon, was to take a Sunday drive. We always planned to buy a house, and we would drive through different neighborhoods just looking at the for sale signs. I often made him a little crazy, sometimes we would turn into a neighborhood, and I immediately asked him to get out of it, it FELT wrong. Now some of these were lovely neighborhoods, in the best parts of town, but the Spirit of the place was just disturbing. When we were ready to actually purchase a home, we looked at dozens, and I drove our realtor crazy too. When we turned onto the street we live on, I felt safe and nurtured. As our realtor opened the front door of this house before I stepped a foot across the threshold , I knew I was home.

Home is what I feel in the Black Hills. I think because it was where our life as a family began it will always be a sacred place for me. So, as my spirit heals, I feel the need to return to that place to honor the memory of the time before the grief, and perhaps to move into a time where the grief can heal. Paradoxically, I will be traveling back to the place where I experienced my first symptom of neurological disease (you can read about it in the blog post from 4/29 A Glimpse Into One Part of My Life).

Last spring when my son's health and our financial problems became an issue, Spirit told me that this trip would be provided in September. Thanks to our "Great American Road Trip" last fall, I have enough rewards points that I only need to pay for two nights lodging-and those will earn me enough points that I will be able to receive free lodging again next year!!! So, the majority expense will be gas and food, and I know when Spirit has promised something, provision will be provided. My therapist said this week that this trip is just the prescription she would write for me.

So, as I move through the minefield of birthdays and anniversaries this summer, I feel stronger, and part of that is because I know I am supposed to go home to the place where love and family became one!!