Christmas

It was the night before Christmas and all in the house was quiet not even a mouse... But some could not sleep. Last night I imagined all the ways that things could be better. All the ways we used to celebrate this holiday and how nothing seems the same without my father. Sleep evades me currently and I am miss him. I miss the laughter he brought to the experience, I don't remember the presents I remember his santa hat, his laughter, the food, the games. The walks, the talks, the soup he made after xmas. And we are all left with an emptiness inside us without him. How do you celebrate a holiday that is centered around presents and connection? When you are the grieving family? There is a missing part. I feel it, I didn't think it would be this hard. I didn't think coming here would be so difficult, in some regards it's peaceful. Its nice to be around family and yet have brought enough things to entertain myself so that I don't become frustrated. I feel different and I am connecting differently. I am different.

I can feel it in the way I am needing for myself to set stronger boundaries. To let people go that don't serve me. To exercise, enjoy the outdoors, to jump for joy, to experience love, to transform myself into a new wave of being. And though I am sad to loose a very long time friendship. I know it's for the best, I know that I need to step away. Its the same with my family I know I need to engage in relationship in a specific way. If I try to dive deep I experience shame and I don't need to. I feel like for the first time life is going in the right direction. A good combination of the intellectual and the artist. I drew my angel on the plane. I can feel the shifts. that for this first time in my life all I need is me. All I need is a little love and I am okay.

Though deeply authentically I miss my father more deeply now. But I am grateful to be with my family. I am grateful to have my family.

Transformation

It's days like today where I wonder when the pain will end. I wonder when I will stop desiring to tell EVERYONE my father is dead. This is his anniversary, I'm falling apart, hold me. Hold me up, that's what I want to scream. But the truth is even more shattering. No one can do that for me. I don't have people in my life that can reach out a hand to hold me up. Perhaps no one has those people. Or those that do are not in healthy relationships. Its been difficult for me. I've seem myself transferring my dependence onto my Reverend and the truth that hits me is I have to stand on my own. I have to transformation to live the life I want. Perhaps I have to learn to love. I chose to pick my angel card tonight ahead of everyone so I could pick on my father's anniversary. There is a part of me that felt as though I asked too much, I'm make my grief too big, I'm being a burdened, a needy wounded child. That is my judgement. I picked TRANSFORMATION. One of the biggest words in the deck in my opinion.

But I sit here tonight wondering what would it be like not tell everyone how sad I am. How much I miss my father even if it's true? I just have such a hard time being superficial. I want to share my heart and my heart opened tonight. After visiting the Crone I had to take a walk to let the grief flow or it would be stuffed to the bottom once again. And I am learning that I must let go of expectations of people. There is a small part of me that so desperately wants to be coddled. To be told it will be okay. I want to find freedom. I want to find surrender and peace. I want to find love for myself. But I see all the ways I regret.

I regret that I hadn't called my father in the days preceding his death. I regret the anger and numbness that followed. How I shoved everyone out of my life. Because the truth comes down anger. I am angry my father left me. I am angry at my mother for not being able to see my brilliance and my pain. I am angry for having another adversity. And instead of rebounding I feel into a deep dark whole. And every solstice I have been reminded of this. But tonight, tonight was different. I was different. I still needed to share about his anniversary, it was important to me to pick the angel card. But I didn't share with everyone. I went outside and I cried. And I cried. And I grieved. I miss my father, there is no denying. There is no denying how deeply my life has been affected since his passing.

But tonight I began to ask myself if he were still here would I be stepping into these new adventures. These things that are truly an embodiment of myself. Would I be choosing to stand on my own. Would I be choosing to step into my role as priestess for the great divine. Would I be believing in the Great Mother. Would I be pursuing Naturopathic School? Would I be saying YES so loud and so much as I am now. I wonder. Tonight is indeed the darkest night of the year both literally and personally. And yet I feel for the first time I am not alone. I am standing stronger and taller. I am choosing myself in a very real way. In a different way.

And I can feel myself exploding not just from the grief, which is ripping at my heart. But the joy is there again too. I felt it in the circle tonight. I could feel my heart expanding accepting all the beautiful people as my brothers and sisters. I felt like I do indeed belong. All I have to do is find a way to volunteer my time. But for now I feel the tears have ended for the dark night of the soul, the darkest night of the year. I've spoken my truth to the crone and more. And I believe for the first time things are going to change, they will indeed TRANSFORM over the next year.

Loss

I sit deeply in this moment of the feeling of loss. The loss of my father's presence in my life. The loss of the community I thought I had. The loss of needing other people. The loss of my identity. It's a mix of grief and strength moving forward. Reading through Teresa's email I realized how much I no longer identify with Shakti. Though I respect all those that still want to be involved. I have seen my truth within this community and it is not how others may perceive it. I walked away because it was a safety codependent net that had to be severed. I had out grew what Shakti was to me, and I could no longer pretend that I belong. I am moving on and yes I will do great things. But depending on any one person, organization, or thing to change you is a grave mistake. That is what Shakti had allowed me to become. Placing ideas of sisterhood in my head, in just wasn't true. I've learned for the first time to step away from this need for people to be there, for people to listen, for people to be my dependency. I have found nature again. I have found myself again. When we lean to heavily on others even in community it can be as if they bound you with ropes. There is no way out but to sever them and move on. Learn how to make decisions on you're own, to engage in life in a true adult way, to accept things as they are. To decide yes I want to spend Christmas with my family. It's been a big process for me to step into my own. To decide that yes I will live MY life and stop trying to live everyone else's. It's a tough road to break that pattern. But I feel at this cross roads where indeed I have. I feel myself. I feel okay in the aloneness, I feel okay. I in fact excited for what life has to offer me.

In all the great changes, there is a deep sadness. As I realize tomorrow is the day I lost my father 3 years ago. It's a combination of numbness, unreality, and deep authentic sadness. But I still ask "Dad where are you?" "Are you happy?" Do you know how sad your family is? Do you know how much your wife has been through in the last year? Do you know how scared I get? Do you know how much I have changed? My entire life feels on a pedestal of change. I am a priestess. I am a Goddess. I am change. I am I am all of these things. And I want to claim it. But dad I am scared. Without your hand at my back, my knees become weak. Without you at my back, my stomach becomes queezy and I wonder where I am. I wonder where do we go now? And how do you really move on? How do I celebrate the return of the light on the darkest night of the year. Your death... the darkest night of the year is your death. It was too soon, and I want to scream. And yet I also have accepted the truth at this point. I have accepted the loss in some regards. But how to live with it. I do now that this year... I have changed. I have turned a corner. I am working towards saying yes to life in every way.

I feel like climbing a mountain top and screaming at the top of my lungs. Would you hear my cry of excitement? I can't help but wonder whether my papa is watching. But it's time to embrace what is. And I am here, there is so much joy mixed with the sorrow. I hope my new community will indeed support me on the darkest day of the year.

The Anxiety

Sometimes my heart begins to race and my mind begins to spin. And I wonder why, what am I feeling that is throwing me off center? And it comes down this week to some rather large things. My father's anniversary is Saturday. And when I shared this with my mentor at Church I got the "Well you should bring him". My response "Well I could bring his spirit". He's dead. And the anxiety rips through me like a title wave I want to scream the words "Don't you know I'm wounded I lost my father tragically and this is the first time I'm doing something for myself on his anniversary". Don't you see? And the approval cycle explodes. One day I won't care what anyone else thinks. One day I will stand on my own so tall and so strong that I will not shake. Well let's be realistic I will always shake, shaking is what makes us human. Without our fear, insecurities we continue to be imperfect, it's what makes us lovable. It's what makes us unique. But there is a level I'd like to let go. I experienced today in that moment where I tried to open and it was not received and I was met with my shame. I wanted to share my joys and sorrows. And yet does the whole world need to know how hurt I feel on the inside or how joyful I feel on the inside? Where is the line between connection, friendship, and oversharing? I experience myself as an oversharer. A person who needs validation and approval in order to walk, breath, and live. But no more I will make my own decisions. I am going to do this priestess training. I have filled out the application and just need to send in the deposit. I want to be a priestess. I want to be wise. I want to change the world. I have unique gifts that want to come out and play. I am tired of living in a box, the box I created to protect myself from life's ills. It's what will allow me to be an empathic, spiritual practitioner. I want to live breathe in the beauty that surrounds us. I want to believe that I can leave the drama and enter into my own sacred temple and experience the joy, sorrow, and see the deepness that life has to offer. To accept and love people for who they are. I know everything is a work in progress but I truly seek a bigger and larger life. I seek people like me, on my plane, my peers, my sisters, people that truly want depth and understand that I need action. That I don't necessarily want to be the person all the time that reaches out. What if you reached out what would that feel like for you? Would you notice like I notice that you were making an effort in a different way? I am loyal and I see how difficult connection is in our society. I see how badly I want it. It's not easy it takes work and sometimes it seems walking away is the best option. That indeed the best option is let go of the person who cannot hold what you need held. In moments away from my anger and grief of losing these people I can see how we are different. That though in a lot ways I still need to grow into myself. I have grown in such deep and profound ways it has unfortunately separated myself. But I have also done the separating. Ever notice how your anger, hatred, hurt separates and blinds you from seeing what is. From seeing what is the true truth. If I want people to show up I have to let go. I have wear fabric bright as pink, and dark as black. To truly embrace all of who I am I have to dance, and laugh and cry. There is no have to or force to and must be done organically. It must be embraced within the construct of life. And I must let go of the t-shirts, sweatshirts and play with fabric. Play with the idea that my body is beautiful that indeed I am a Goddess.

In the application we were asked if we could pick a Goddess name what would it be. I looked up a few. Juno, Maat or Maya, Minerva. Maybe even Kersair- Goddess of the Celtics who is daughter of the cosmos and connected to the sea and the great flood.I feel connected to the Truth, wisdom, medicine, and healing. I am excited by the idea of learning more about myself. Learning how to partner.

But I am realizing that it time to let go of my grief, it is time to live for myself and no one else. To love life, to give myself, to allow myself to be involved and connected. To stretch and expand to see where the sea will take me.

Freedom

It continues to amaze but sadden me how deeply my worth is embedded in other people's approval. I can feel it every time my mother disapproves or has a certain perspective about my life. It is my life I'm allowing other people define how I live it. I've been working so hard to get back to what I would call stable ground. Working so hard to live my life's work, but this is part of it. Learning to be truly independent. It wouldn't be our life's work if it were easy now would it? No. She won't be the last to question my choices. I have thought this through and perhaps I am wrong. Perhaps I will change my mind before incurring debt, perhaps after. Either way I do trust in the universe. In the divine ancient wisdom. I want to share this with the world. A part of this journey is being able to stand strong in my own sense of self, strong enough not to be swayed. But the key to all of this to also be able to listen and hear other people.

I am a dissector of life, I pick it all a part in detail, maybe you don't see it. And inside of all this worth, I can feel the anger and angst that comes with places my worth and power in someone else's hands. How do I get it back? How do I stand on my own and scream at the top of my lungs that I know this to be true... I do not know yet. I can feel the path opening up before my feet. It's no longer about traditional views that in fact if I truly open my heart from the inside out, and leave nothing behind. I will in fact carve a path to be proud of. My legacy will be choosing to heal my wounds. To chose to live in a world where I am honored no revered for my work. Deeply respected not because I helped you but because you are deeply loved. To find that priestess place inside myself and allow it be seen, heard, allow it to scream, and shatter all preconceived notions. I want the support. I feel the craving, I feel the emptiness I want her to fill. I feel it all. And anger fills the space. How dare you call it rushing into it, not thinking it through... do you know me? All I do is play it safe. I play it safe ALL the time. I'm tired of safe, I'm tired of okay, I'm tired of content. I'm tired of the middle road. I'm tired of selling myself short because some belief, or person, or thing tells me I can't. I was born a beautiful woman and I will be damned if that escapes me. My determination at times feels unparallelled. And I know there is hope for our lives yet. My life is changing. I am changing in ways I never even thought possible. Which makes me believe. Which reminds that there is HOPE. That hope is in my heart that I can indeed make this happen. Will it be easy? No. Nothing in my life has come easy. But does that mean I should walk away because of money, because of anything for that matter. I don't believe so. I believe that if I really am meant to do this, if I am really meant to help people in this way. There will be support, somehow somewhere along the way I will find the path that leads me to emotional, spiritual, financial, and mental freedom. And the path to get there is true internal and external independence.

Relationships

I have been sitting with this question of how to be, how do we engage in our relationships? How do we find meaning, love, and support without feeling disappointment, resentment, anger?

I ask because this is my experience. A feeling of severe angst inside when I read others posts about feeling as though they belong to this wonderful community, or they were so deeply supported. And I sit wondering in jealousy and anger why don't I have this in my life? Why is it so hard for me to develop that kind of closeness? Part of it is with some people there is an experience of fakeness, a feeling that someone doesn't really care. If they cared wouldn't they make some kind of effort to be a part of my life. Anything really just some small token that you care and you want me to include me in your adventures. And I'm left feeling lonely, jealous, angry, hurt, needy, and alone. And my retort to all these feelings is well if you can't make the effort I'm leaving. Maybe it works for other people to have acceptance for people escaping into their own lives, but for some reason this doesn't work for me. Maybe because I've known this feeling for years. I've had the experience with my mother of deeply wishing for her to see me, to know me, and yet it's always been about her and her needs. And that is my experience in relationship with others, not across the board. What is community if it is not about keeping your word? What is community if you do not include and reach out? Why do I always have to reach in? In truth I've taken the sword and severed the connection. Because I can't, this is not what I want.

I want people in my life to grow with in life and adventure. I want people to learn who I am, experience me from the inside out. Not for my issues, my wounds, but for my brilliance. And when you build a community around transformational healing it becomes about the wounds and not so much the wonders. And I can here the echoing of people challenging me. But what they see as true I do not experience. Maybe I'm wrong, maybe there is some forgiveness that needs to occur both for myself and for the women in community. There must be another way to live. I'm convinced that truly there is an experience to letting go. When you grew up in such a codependent environment, I just want to stand on my own two feet. I just want to experience the world as whole, as one, as beauty. And I know it was time to step away. And the anger and the hurt is related to my grief. That in the end Shakti was not what I thought it was, in the end I needed to walk away in order to find myself. I feel the grief. And angst of disappointment and aloneness.

And I'm still finding myself. I'm still searching for who it is I want to be. Who I am becoming. Can you grow with me? Can you see deeper than my words and actions? For I am hurting inside. I've been hurting all my life. And I have begun to see the connections however small. There is a glimmer of hope that maybe one day I will be able to build the kind of relationships I crave.

Living

I've been wanting to write for days. Have you ever had an experience that can't be articulated? An experience that you swear no one could ever understand? That you yourself aren't sure you understand. That's been my life the last few years. First my father's death and the numbness that came with it. The people who left, the people who I asked to leave, and the people who stayed. At times I just have memories flood through me like a river. This weekend it wasn't about my father but rather my mother. My mother who almost lost her life and I just can't help but think I wasn't there soon enough. And when I arrived she had no idea who I was. It is the single most frightening event that I have experienced. It took my breath away, it shattered my heart, it turned me silent. And now months later I wonder how we survive such an experience. I spent days in the hospital with her. My brother spent more time. I am only 31. And I begin to wonder what the universe is trying to teach me and why I am the one who needs to learn this lesson. Will it provide a greater gift to the universe?

I remember walking into the room and taking my mother's hand looking into her eyes. She stared back but it was so frightening. She looked straight through me as if she did not recognize me. As if I barely existed. She could only reply in one word answers. She wasn't there, she has no memory of me arriving. And I can't help but remember this time, remember how I felt. There was regret, fear, and loneliness in my heart. All I could grab hold of was the practical. I was desperate for something to do. I couldn't help her, I couldn't save her, and yet I know it's not my responsibility. But the vulnerability of the experience is what hits me now. The realization that people couldn't quite understand what I was facing, how truly bad it was. That it wasn't a choice to get on that plane. My mother was dying.... and those are the words that strike me now. What does death truly mean? Fragility, chance, change, metamorphosis? Yes all of it. And I step out of the despair of my vulnerability and step into an experience of a chance to change everything. To have a relationship with my mother, to connect, be and share with her.

Lately, I have been going through an experience. If you are a stranger reading this, I have struggled all my life acknowledging my sexuality and figuring out what that means has been a challenging. Where on the spectrum do I land? Do I need a label? Or could I just let the universe show me to the person that could make me happy on all levels? I'd like to think that is possible. I've been trying to meet new people and a variety of ways. First I joined a faith community for the first time. It's been wonderful. I got invited to a Soup dinner, and well it was not what I expected. I know I dress comfortably and many assume I'm gay, but truthfully I am unsure. Well this dinner party was full of lesbian couples. I had a good experience. I don't know if I'll go back but maybe. And I truly don't know where I stand. There's also a man at Church that has caught my interest. This all feels important to share with my mother, to bridge the gap, and not worry about responses. It's time to live life.

What are you waiting for? What holds you back from living your dreams? What holds you back from living?

Day of the Dead

This past month at Church has been about Death. I've never been somewhere where death is spoken to so directly and beautifully. Some days I can believe that my father is in each whisper in the wind, the rain that flows down, and each flower and piece of nature surrounding me. I felt it today. And yet there is such a deep emptiness, a deep sense of trauma, of unfairness that I can't shake. It builds a wall between myself and the world. I can't describe how deeply alone I feel most days, how deeply I wish I could dig a hole and cry. And yet during the day of the dead ceremony no tears flowed. I can feel that there is so much I want to express. I wish I could say that it is okay that it's taking me so long to grieve. But I feel as though I am letting my father down. I can feel the anger brew, I feel stuck in three years ago. The moment you receive a call like that there is no erasing it. It replays in my head over and over again. My brother crying on the phone in a way that no one can understand. My mother asking what she should do with the body. Then asking me to decide if I wanted to see him. God, I still don't know if I made the right decision. Maybe it would have brought it home. There were so many decisions that I had no capacity to make. And now all I want is some peace in my heart. I want to speak to him again. I would give almost anything to talk to my father again. I miss him terribly. I miss him in my bones. And I feel so conflicted inside. Between whether I should or shouldn't. It eats at my bones. Maybe we did have an unhealthy relationship, maybe maybe maybe. I don't know. The intensity of what I feel cannot be described. I look at all I've been through in the last three years and I want to scream at the unfairness. The unfairness to my family. The unfairness of life. And yet I see beauty, it filters in. I feel it. I witness it. But the time now feels so internal. I don't really want to be touched. I don't want to be held. The time has passed and now I witness the anger that runs through my heart. Wishing so deeply to be seen and heard in the real way. I don't want to be pitied. I don't want sympathy. I want you to see me as human, a wounded being that truly just wants to be loved for where I am. To honor my soul's journey. And I realize not everyone is able to do this. Many people do not have the capacity to step outside of themselves.

And I just pray that my mother will heal. That we will all heal from the inside out. And learn how to find the beauty in the world again.

My Grief is Only Mine

Today in Church we discussed "A Grief Observed". She described how our grief is only ours. No one can truly understand what we feel, what we gain, or what we lose from loss. The depth of feeling that still exists inside of me after 2 and half years without my father is indescribable. By expressing that you understand how I feel, what I am going through, that you know what I need. You have pushed me away. I just lost a friend for this reason. There are other friends that seem to be afraid of grief, of my grief. All I really want is to be seen for where I am really at. The truth. The fear. The avoidance. The deep hurt that I am truly alone. The feeling of false empathy, sympathy, when a person's actions don't align with their words. I turn my back because I barely know how to sit in what is called grief. And I feel as though what's happened is that all many many of my relationships were forced to changed. Because my perspective on the world is permanently changed. I am still a young woman. I am too young for all of this to have happened. I have not figured out how to rebound, how to rebound back from the trauma. Maybe mostly because I feel overwhelmed by it. I feel so overwhelmed by the trauma to both my parents. But what I know is that my father was a rock in my life and without him I am being forced to learn how to live.

There was something else the reverend spoke to today about being a ghost. I feel as though I don't have permission to be a ghost that my friends wanted me to be someone I wasn't. That they wanted/want me to snap out of it. And because I've been unable to I'm lost in the wilderness. I still crave the friend that would make me dinner, bring me dinner, call just ask how I am. The friend that can handle the deep sadness that exists inside my well. And all I can wonder is what would it have been like if I'd been able to say goodbye. What would it have been like to be able to tell my father just how much I loved him. And now I wonder what would be like to live his legacy? What would be like to stand upon a mountain top and breathe in the clear, crisp air? What would be like to be adventurous?

And yet when I find the silence. I see the change I see how much I have changed. How I've had to let go of people that aren't able to support me in this depth. And I see that I have a unique perspective. That I may have a gift to offer those in grief when I reach the other side. Because truth be told I need to cry, I need to scream, I need to be held deeply in my grief.

And Dad I truly hope you are singing in the angel's choir, I hope you are telling jokes, watching us all the while. Know that I am trying to move through but the ache of missing you pulls on me. I regret not calling you, if I had known I would have called. If I had known I would have gone skiing with you. I know this sounds unrealistic. But if I had known there is so much I would have shared with you. In death I know see that there is a chance still to have you in my life.

Birthdays

As I age the celebration of the actual birthday seems to loose importance. Now that my father is not here to celebrate and my mother almost joined him it just doesn't seem to hold the energy of celebration. Perhaps it's age, perhaps it's grief, perhaps it's the feeling of loneliness that has been grabbing me lately. But I don't feel much like celebrating and it's not just my birthday it's most holidays. They come with a feeling of resentment, bitterness. I look out and see families smiling and laughing. And inside I'm torn up wishing I could celebrate with my father one last time. I remember, but in many ways the memories feel like they are fading into the abyss. Like with it I am fading. People seem to so engaged in their own lives I'm merely a back drop. And yet I know that some how there is fun to be had in this world, it's not all work. And yet I feel so disconnected. I feel as though people call me friend, but fail to treat me as such. Is it so hard to invite me to something, extend a hand, or a phone call? And that is where I sit at the end of each day the shame that I am actually alone. Most days it's okay. I realize the universe is calling me to move on, meet new people, create my own community, my own family. To stop leaning on people who do not have the capacity to see me, be with me in the way I crave. And it spirals back to my birthday. It comes down to that I am not like others, it is not a celebration for me since my father died. I have shame on this fact when I look around at all the people celebrating in a various ways. And I've come to this conclusion that indeed I want to wake up early and go to the beach. Turn my phone off for the majority of the day. Remove myself from facebook and sit and listen to the messages in the internal silence. Listen to the messages of a another year older. Allow it to be absolutely okay to in fact not celebrate, perhaps I'll never want to celebrate. Perhaps next year I'll allow it to pass me by. But in the end that is my choice.

I had an experience with a friend last year who got mad at me for not returning her text on Thanksgiving. You know what I'm turning inside and seeing that true friends honor that need. What I'm beginning to realize unfortunately many people in my life don't know how to respond to death. How to be with death and how to support someone who has experienced death and is having a part of their self die. And people have stepped away for various reason but what I have learned is that I must listen to the wisdom inside. If I want to turn off my phone, my email, facebook, and choose to not respond that is okay. This is the year I want to do everything differently.

I want to use these days as places to accept more of myself, to listen to the darkness, and to honor the grief that is still very present for me. And to not try to lean on others instead lean on myself. If I want to turn my phone off I can. If I don't want to celebrate the holiday, I don't have to. And most of all if I don't want to be with family, I truly don't need to be. It's time that I honor these days for me and no one else.

Admission

I write this for me. I am depressed, I know it, and yet I can't quite extract myself. Today was a day of exhaustion and rest. And knowingly I am eating emotionally I can feel it. I bought pasta and chocolate. I know my hormones are off. I am moody. There is so much rage inside me it's hard to describe. But I'm owning that I am engaging in escape tonight good pasta with a movie. Maybe in writing my psyche will hear the call to step up into a more empowered place, a place where I don't need a movie and pasta to feel better. That I can feasibly shift my energy. But I'm lonely. I feel as though I can count on no one. It's hard to explain. But I have those I call sisters but I don't feel a mutual connection anymore. It feels as though it's fading into a new realm. A realm I don't understand. So I react in fear and I shut down. I shut the door, my container weeps. And sit wondering why I cannot find people that truly want and desire to connect with me. Not just saying hi on the phone but following through with hanging out with me. I deeply desire it and yet I can feel how far from the truth it is. And the truth is I am still locked inside a box I can't quite step out of. I need to have fun, and let go of what controls my actions. And it's time to let go of the anger, and resentment towards the people that don't have the capacity to show up in the way I wish. And I just wish so badly to be loved in a deep intimate way. But I'm beginning to realize that in order to really receive that love I need to embrace loving myself. And this is why I eat. I hate and loath myself in so many ways. I am scared to change to truly do the work that involves changing my core beliefs. But I must if I truly want the life of my dreams I must step away from the self loathing, the illusions, and embrace all that I can change. It is time to step into my life, to step into finding friendships that feed my soul, and to allow myself to be seen not necessarily by others but most importantly by myself. If I can see myself for the truth and rawness inside of me I know I can heal. I know I can find my way through the forest. And the message over and over again is that this is the soul's journey and I must embark on it alone. And  yet as I hear those words I also know that there is a piece of human connection that must be met in order to step out of this escape of food and electronics. This need is something that must be met. It's time to make some friends.

Mystery of Life

Sometimes I wonder how we all deal with Life. I sit with so many questions. Why can’t I sit with myself and still feel joy? Why do I need people so badly in my life? Why do I attract drama I have no control over into my family life? Why do I constantly feel unseen or unheard? The questions go on. They create this feeling of aloneness, of fear, of anger… I loose focus on my goals, I loose focus on my Life. It’s as if the whole world becomes a narrow pin prick. I am alone and there is not a soul that could understand my particular angst. And yet WHY am I so angry, why am I so restless? I desperately want answers to these questions. I want to be happy. But the message from today’s sermon is very clear. I must live the questions and stop trying to find the answers. Because I am not ready to live the answers so I must live the questions. But what does this really mean asks my mind?? And all I can answer in response is that sometimes there are no answers. I think to what is causing my heart pain and it is the reality of what I spoke in Church this morning. The realization on one level I am alone and on another that if I take a risk the load becomes lighter. It only takes a moment to reach out a caring touch, a caring thought, a caring hug. That is all I really need. I don’t need to share with you the details of my struggles. That has been my mistake in the past. My addiction to drama creates such a turbulent experience when I do. I share the details and I become less and less present to the NOW. To the experience in this moment. So my mother almost died does everyone need to know my desperation about that fact. No. But here I tell you I’m dying inside at this fact and I don’t know how to move beyond it. I don’t know how to live with this fact. It seems so silly to me. But I am scared and that is why I’m struggling moving on. I am scared I am going to experience MORE loss. And all I can think about is how much bad has entered my life instead of how much good has entered it. I remember the words I uttered in Church this am “I am so grateful that I have more time with my mother.” And I am. I am so fucking grateful that I get to have more time with my mother. That I get to enjoy her presence in a way I did not get to experience with my father. And I can feel all the vulnerability inside this. I left church with a deep opening in my heart, a deep sense that there is something, a gift inside this community that I have yet to receive. And more than anything that’s what I want. That’s what we all need a reminder of love. A reminder that we are not alone. Because when you’re world feels blown apart and you have told everyone a million times over and over again. It’s old, you know my father died, I know my father is dead. And yet I’m hung on it. But the one reach out of the hand today reminded me I am not alone. And yet I can sense the way to empowerment is learning how to engage in life in other ways beyond my sorrow. To engage from my joys, my love, and my ability to listen to myself. That is what I am hear to learn. Teach me to listen, to be listened to, to hear the deepest whispering from the inner stirrings of this universe. Let me be held. Let me see all the beauty in the whole world. For I understand that life is a mystery and I am learning how to accept what is but it isn’t easy. Everyday I struggle with myself to let spirit in, everyday I wonder what my father is doing, everyday I send my mother prayers, everyday I miss the certainity of a life that is no longer mine, everyday I am reminded of the mystery of life. And I am learning to live with the questions, to breathe through the questions, and have respect for the questions that have no answers.

Why did you take my father away from me? Why did I get sick? Why was I abused? Why is my mother sick? None of these have answers. They will never have answers. I sit wondering how we sit with the questions, which in essence means sitting with myself, learning to feel the inner layers of my heart. To begin to tease out the sticky anger layers that bind me to my fear. In relationship to others I have let go in great amounts. But I still greatly crave for people to WANT to be with me. And I don’t feel that way, I am learning how to step out of the small child that wants attention to the adult that can create her own way. It’s time, it’s time to let go of approval, of validation and step into being my own salvation. Kiya Heartwood, a beautiful song writer, sings “I will be my own salvation, I will be my only priest.” I leave you with this. How can you be your own priest? How can you step so fully into your own heart that you do not need other people’s approval? It does not mean you do not need people, for we all do, but it translates to a health need. A healthy and empowered way of being.

Mountains

It’s a weird feeling to be home… There a void in my heart. A fear I can’t quite identify. I miss my mother in a way I have never before. It’s interesting I was gone from MY life for over five weeks and I think I preferred the mountains to the ocean. There was something spiritual every time I looked into the large Rocky Mountains. There something I avoided in those mountains. There was a distraction from my own self. And now I am home I have to face the bells that are ringing. Only 10 days away from sitting for a large certification exam and I feel as though it’s all out of my control. I’m allowing myself to be pulled in so many directions. What would it mean to sit? To really sit with myself and look deep within my own soul? What would I see? What would you see?

I can tell you, you would see pain. Pain of all levels and a determination that meets no other. I am survivor at the core but you know I am tired of surviving trauma. I am only 30 and have already been diagnosed with a learning disability, sexually abused, emotional abused, seen tragic death of an intimate family member, seen serious illness in myself and others. I have yet to really learn how to move on after this. My mother almost died and I can’t get beyond the words. The images flood just like when my father died. I sit wondering how how can this happen? The feeling of aloneness overwhelms me. Because there are no words to describe the moment I walked into her hospital room after a 4 or 5 hour flight. Flying over oceans and mountains to arrive ungrounded, scared, and basically alone. Unsure at how I should react because I haven’t been here before. I’ve done death, but I’d never done illness and death. And I truly could not get that out of my head. And thus trying my best to cope with the worst week of my life. I arrived, I was finally by her side and yet looking at her my psyche immediately rejected the fact that this was my mother. This woman in this hospital couldn’t possibly be my mother. Where was her vibrant smile, where was her sarcastic grin, where was the love in her eyes, it was as if all life had left her. She was paranoid and I didn’t know how to react and so all I could do was laugh, cry, and hide behind anything. The phone calls were rampant from family members and close friends. And most of all I was scared that she didn’t even know I was there. I’d flown over three states to see her, I’d given up my job to see her, and I didn’t even know if she knew who I was. It became apparent the following day she did remember when she uttered one word: my nickname. That was enough for me. But the fear, the inability to express what it means to look at your critically ill mother and feel as though even her spirit was gone. The miraculous moments were those when you could see the light literally filtering through her eyes. The moments when she uttered the words you had been waiting on the edge of your seat to hear “When did you get here”. In those words she knew who you were, where she was, and that she had lost time. Relief flooded through me.

Though it appears that she will be okay and without many complications. The clamp inside of me somedays will not let up. I want to scream “NO you do not understand what I have been through”. Part of it is the rip in my inner world when my father was ripped out of my life, when he disappeared from existence. And some days I struggle recognizing that we are all interconnected because I feel as though God has decided that I have to face all these crisis. What am I suppose to be learning? How not to freak out? Well haven’t really learned that yet. That life is fragile? Well yes I get it. And I just truly wish I could reach inside to the scared little girl that doesn’t understand any of this and letting her know that it will be okay. Instead I see myself escaping and finding it impossible to trust in myself. If only my father was here life would be so much easier. Its hard to describe to someone who wasn’t intimately a part of this situation to understand how difficult it was to transition through the details when we had no other parent to lean on. And it breaks my heart that we struggled through 24 hours before realizing what the right action was. I struggle with guilt that I wasn’t there sooner.

Then there are the days where I see so clearly. I see how greatly this situation has changed my relationship with my mom. After my dad died there was such a rift and divide between us. And now I feel closer to her than I have ever before. Perhaps truly the lessons stems from love. How do we do what is right and what is just? What happens when we let go of our expectations and do what is right? What is right is to step up to the plate when family needs you. I can’t say I always feel this called within my chosen family. But I am learning where to step in and where to step back and make space for people to be themselves. For the first time I saw my mother as a woman in need. In need of my help specifically and I feel honored. I wouldn’t change it for the world.

The Day

My mother told me a story of her delirium. She was being taken for an MRI possible the one before they decided to do emergency surgery. She thought she was in the kitchen and the "cooks" aka anesthesiologist tried to get her to sign a consent form. Of course this was highly upsetting. But what amazed me was that she was with it enough to understand to ask for her brother, her power of attorney, to take over.

I remember the calls that night. Just like the night my father died. I was on the phone with my brother when my uncle began calling my brother so we hung up. He quickly called me back and said that she was going into surgery "NOW". What can you think about those moments? I had no other information, I didn't know why. I was freaking out. What else to do but call my aunt who's also my godmother. There was a lot of sighing. And I was hemming and hawing about whether to get on a plane. I so desperately wanted to be there. Not just because my mother was in critical condition but because I'd promised my father I would do this for him and he left before I could care for him. I missed the opportunity. My aunt called me back after speaking with my uncle and told me he recommended that I get on a plane tomorrow. All that was going through my head was shit, shit, shit... okay, okay, okay. I called my uncle, who is by the way one of the top neurologists in the country, he explained the situation and told me "You are going to want to be there when she wakes up." To me that told me that even my uncle, a topnotch doctor was scared she might not even make it through surgery. Luckily, she made it through better than expected. And for me when your uncle the top notch doc tells you to get on a plane you do. I called my brother and told him I was on my way. The relief in his voice was so real, he began crying. It was such an emotional time and all I could feel was the adrenaline pumping through my veins. The lack of sleep from days of worrying and not understanding what was wrong. When I landed it was not much better the next few days were flooded with family and family friends. Though I was grateful to speak to them it was utterly exhausting. And now I sit wondering where do we go from here? Perhaps it's a silly a question. But I've been stuck in crisis and stepping out of my crisis manager is no easy task. My answer from here I go live my life. I build a stronger bond with my mother and I own that I did the right thing.

Golden Thread

Most days I struggle with the idea of why I am here amongst the mountains. What is the reason for such hardship? And I catch myself feeling a bit dramatic. On the other side it always feels less scary than when you are sitting in the hospital room holding your mothers hand wondering if she even realizes you are there. Only to discover later that she doesn’t remember it at all. Was it important for you to be there? Did it really even matter? I remember my brother saying to me well what’s the point she probably won’t even remember that you were there. The experience I can’t describe the numbness that traveled through me like a virus when I saw her blank stare, her ability to only mutter “hi”. And it wasn’t even clear if she knew who I was. It was too painful to feel in the moment. It was so surreal that I don’t have any words to describe it. I’d been itching for DAYS to get on a plane. But I couldn’t comprehend how bad things were. My brother kept telling “she’s fine she’s just in a lot of pain”. In the aftermath, she wasn’t fine. And I can’t get this detail out of my head… she almost died. And I had everyone telling me it would be fine. What would have happened if I had not called my aunt who then called my uncle who is my mom’s power of attorney? I don’t want to think about it. But I can feel the trauma of losing my father has overshadowed my experience of crisis. Yes naturally this is where I run too. I fear everyone and anyone could drop off in a second. And I don’t expect anyone to understand my fear. I don’t expect anyone to understand what is like to stand vigil by your mother’s side not understanding what you can possible do for her. I gave her water in those first two days. That was about all I could do. I asked questions. I took care of her the best way I knew how. I know it was enough. But these are the unspoken, unseen pictures of my life. The things that will forever be held close to my heart. The things that I do not know how to vulnerably share with anyone else. And I am coming to the conclusion they are not really meant for anyone else. Bathing my mother in the shower is for me and her alone. The details are for us alone. But what are the feelings? The rawness of feeling that I was being abandoned once again. The feelings that these are the things people don’t want to hear about, don’t want to sit with. I saw friends run the same experience I had when my father died. I saw people run back into their lives as I sit seeped in crisis. But you know, there a lesson here for me. It is okay. It is a deep lesson of remembering at the end of the day we are all we have and that is precious. And the most beautiful gift I can give myself in these states of crisis is not necessarily calling anyone but sharing the deep, vulnerable, raw feelings with myself and owning them.

For in these times of loss. There are no words, there are no real comforts. I find myself turning to food to mend my broken heart. But it only takes it further from me. I find that though I feel the earth beneath me and the sky above me. I am alone. I find that this is something society and people are frightened of. And yet I feel as though I am being beckoned to surrender into the void. The void filled with fear, uncertainty, grief, loss, and so much more. In there I will find myself. I will not find elsewhere, I will not find it on a friend’s shoulder, it’s in the void with the emotions I fear that I will find my true golden thread. The one I have been searching for.

Walking in the Forest Alone

I sit wondering how my words will flow onto this page. There is so much inside me, I can feel myself running from it. There is sadness, fear, anger, hatred, grief, and feelings I don’t even have names for. I sit engaged with what is easy. Studying for another certification exam. But I notice myself indulging in food and tv shows that have no real meaning to my internal world. Its as if I just cannot face it. The fact that my mother almost died and my father is died. That in this experience I am alone and yet I know I am not alone. I know there are thousands maybe millions who are facing similar circumstances. And yet it doesn’t matter how many times I speak to someone it doesn’t take away the pain, the anguish I feel inside. Of losing one parent so suddenly it rips the very center of your being out from under you. It proves every negative belief I’ve ever had about people true. And I am tired of that being true. I am tired of being right, because in actuality I am not right. People live their own lives, they get absorbed in their own lives, and it difficult to reach out to those experience a crisis. Though we want to we’ve all experienced the pull. But how do I react differently? How do I respond in an empowering way to crisis? What if the lesson of this crisis and tragedy is that truly at the end of the day we only have ourselves. It doesn’t matter how much hurt or love we have towards others if we cannot give the love and forgiveness to ourselves. I am scared to sit in this seat. Especially, without my father. He was my rock, the one place I knew I could receive support and guidance. And now where do I get them from. I try to pull it out of other people, but they aren’t my dad. And I see that I must dig inside, I must dig inside myself and find the wisdom and guidance I crave. In essence I must walk alone. Though knowing myself I cannot walk alone without sharing about the experience. I want people to know how I feel, I want people to know what I see, and how I see it.

Tonight I leave with an image of my mother and I laugh crying about all the crazy things she was saying. And taking a breath and acknowledging how deeply scary it was for me when she was not lucid and how scary it was for her to realize she has lost five days of her life. That though it is not important to drill into her that these doctors saved her life. For me it’s an important realization for me to make. Through the laughter I can see my avoidance. I am avoiding the fact that my mother almost died, that I almost became parentless. Though I may be an adult I feel like a child in the regard that it feels too young to loose both of them. And I tell myself you didn’t loose her. And though I fear loosing her there is something deeper. That I fear people won’t understand. I remember hearing a friend telling while this was happening “You’re mother will be fine. She’s not going to die, she will one day but not now.” The anger that rips through me is huge. You do not know. That’s just it you don’t know when a loved one will be gone. And the likelihood that my mother would have died from this is quite high. And though I am grateful I am also scared. I am feeding the fear with food. I can feel it. The same grief surrounding my father surrounds me now. Envelops me and I turn my back. Because it feels so scary to face this alone. But I see no other way through the forest. Perhaps there is some gray area I am missing. But I look around and see surviving parents of all my friends. And truthfully I do not want to be told that you understand my pain, my experience, or how I feel. I don’t even want you to imagine it. Because I am angry that you still have a father, I am angry that you offers yours up on a silver platter, I am angry that yours left you early in life so you don’t know the pain of my love, I am angry because I am too young. I am ashamed of my anger. I hide it. My body shows it. More shame I wish I could have my athletic body back. And yet I am realizing that these truths are what will eventually set me free. The truth there is a portion of this that must be faced alone. And there is a portion of this that must be released and I must trust that someone will catch it. Someone will hold it sacred in their heart as I cry, scream, and release all that binds me. That there are deep learning pieces around surrender, acceptance, and forgiveness. And I am the only person who can allow myself those pieces.

The Slide Show of Crisis

At the age of 30 I have already experienced the tragic death of one parent and the serious illness of the other. It's a bit a surreal, like there's no way this could be happening to me, to us. We've already been through so much and it's so early. Both parents hit the crisis marker at age 59. And my brother and I only in our late 20s to early 30s. So young to be dealing with such crisis in our lives. And yet here we are. Here we are struggling through the confusion, the fear, and the practical details the best we can. Calling everyone and their mother to tell them how our mother is fairing. And yet the pictures that run through my head is miraculous. I would have never thought in a million years the small moments amongst the moment of crisis. The other day I was sitting in the hospital wondering what would a slide show look like. If I were to return home what pictures of this adventure would I share with my friends. These are the images that come to mind.

When I arrived last week on the panic flight I took the day following my mothers massive risky surgery to remove a staph infection from her spine. I arrived anxious to see the woman I love dearly, but had been unable to take phone calls since she was not very responsive or aware of the world. I walked into a room sterile and white. I took in the walls, tables, and chairs until my eyes could fall onto the woman whom I recognized but was not there. I saw my mothers body wounded, wrapped in wires from every angle. Her eyes vacant but able to recognize and only mutter a hello. She was clearly there in body but not in mind or spirit. It's a scary moment when you see the woman who gave birth to you barely there. As we stood to leave for why stay. She asked us "who is going to stay". I slowly replied that "we must both go". She replied, quite seriously, "you are going to leave me with these people". I was shocked, to the point I almost broke in the biggest hilarious laughter. In her delerious state she was parniod, not herself and it was so hard to hear, to watch, and keep the containment on my laughter, my stress that was begging to be released. Next my brother and I sat down quietly. He whispered softly "wait for my signal". I did, once we heard her snoring we quietly left. As soon as we were in the hallway we lost it. It had been the most stressful four days and neither of us had the capacity to contain the ridiculousness of her comment or the stress that was bottled up.

When she started to come out of it. She asked when I had arrived, I said two days ago. The look of shock in her eyes was palpable. You could feel it. As my brother and I stood on each side of her bed. She held our hands and simply said "my children". She was still too out of it to express more. But is there more to say. Is there more to express than that. She had all she needed. This moment reminds that sometimes that is the crux and I don't need to explain further. Though I want to, everyday I want to tell her how much I am willing to do for her, how scared I was, and how frightened I still am. How I am struggling for balance... but does my mother need to know this. No she doesn't. She only needs to see my brother and I standing strong by her side. There is nothing more to be done.

 A few days after being here. I unpacked my altar items and discovered my father's ashes had come along. I did not pack them. My father choose to be here with us. He showed me once again that indeed he watches over all us. Even if we can't see or feel him, he is there.

She was home for a few days when she began having close falling episodes when she returned from getting her IV antibiotics. It got worse a few days ago. We came home and she got ahead of me I couldn't get her the walker in front of her, she quickly said I need the chair NOW. So I grabbed it but she was going down. You could see it happening in slow motion, as if on autopilot I grabbed the chair and her hips at the same time and pulled her to safety. I got her seated just as I did so she was so lightheaded she almost fell forward straight out of the chair. I grabbed her and said "I've got you, I'm not letting go." The moment itself is hard to describe in words, in fact it's one of those moments in life that is so intimate and scary all the same time. It reminds just how much I love my mother. No matter how much anger I've had over the years in that moment all of it dissolved into helping her. Into doing what is right.

Though this is only a snap shot. It my way of understanding, it is my way of sharing, it is my way of being vulnerable with the world, without having to send this out to anyone in particular. But reaching out a hand. Life is not easy, balance is not easy, but there is a lesson in this family crisis. I get to give something to my mother I never had the chance to give to my father. It is at the end of the day a blessing.