Friday, May 28, 2021

Hold Me Til The Breath Of Day

Written May 2014


Twinkle lights of city fair

Moon shine strobes beyond compare

Mountain star light beautifully

Grasps the complexities of me 


Wrestling with the world surround

Holding twixt the here and now

Place my heart where it can see

Starlight falling down on me


Ancient sadness in me weighs 

Only when the moon shine fades

Keep me in the light I pray 

Hold me til the breath of day

Thursday, March 18, 2021

The One Beautiful Thing...

From Jan 2013


I remember crying and crying, and asking, "Why?"  Why did I have to go through PPD again? Why?  I had done everything right. I had taken every precaution I could, desperately hoping and praying to not have to go through it again.

Why?

I was angry, so very, very angry.  I had begged God to not make me go through it again, and it hit me worse than ever before. Worse than I ever imagined it could.

The only thing Ryan could do for me was hold me and hold me, and hold me some more. I remember him saying "Maybe because you're going through this, you'll be able to help others as they go through it."

And I remember saying that it wasn't a good enough reason. That it wasn't worth it. And that's really how I felt. I was so miserable and I couldn't see any good reason why all my efforts to stay healthy and strong had been rewarded with the monster of depression and anxiety that had taken over my life yet again.

Three years later... it is the only beautiful thing I can see from the whole experience, that I am able to help other mothers -- and hopefully their husbands and families too, who are experiencing the pains and strains of postpartum depression on their lives and marriages. Because lets be clear -- it does affect the marriage, the husband, and the whole family.

Maybe as time wears on and I am able to let go of more of the hurt I will see more beauty. But for now, I focus on the good that I can.  And so, I write what I do now.

Over the past few months especially, I have been so grateful for the women who have given me the  opportunity to give insight, advice, support, and love. Thank you. Thank you for reaching out for help. Thank you for taking the help that is available. Thank you for not suffering more than you already have to.

The rest of this blog gives more detail than I've written to date on what my experience with postpartum depression has been.  It does not go into what to do about it.

With the first baby, PPD was mild. So mild, that I would never have recognized it for what it was, if I hadn't stopped many years later and went "Aha!  Now I understand why I felt the way I did." It came out more in a mild detachment from my daughter, and fear. But again, it was mild, passed, and life went on.

With baby #2, the depression was definitely more succinct.... but I chalked it up to the turmoil my marriage was in already, and the stress and strain of trying to hold our family together.... and to me just being an awful mother, wife, and person. I remember bawling and bawling on the floor of the closet, begging God to give me a new heart, because mine was no good. I could see no good in me, especially as a mother. This remained my view of myself for many, many years... because I still viewed myself through those depressive eyes.  More than deep sadness or typically what you would think of as depression, there was an underlying irritability and inability handle stress or strain to any degree, and yet that is what my life consisted of at the time.  The result was I became enraged easily, and quickly, and the poor children around me had the unfortunate opportunity to see me turn to an ugly green monster all too often. I snapped at them, yelled at them, and all the while was trying to grab hold of the monster and stuff it back down in a corner somewhere within me.  It didn't work.  I think I cried more during the year after I had Taliesin than any other in my life until I had baby #7. Still, I didn't call it depression, and neither did anyone around me. I didn't ask for help, and I didn't get any help for it. Eventually, it went away, and I became more able to handle the stress life was throwing at me.

With baby #3, the depression was pronounced, and obvious to anyone who knew to call it that. But nobody did.  I had trouble recovering from the birth. I stayed in bed for weeks. Physically there was little reason my body couldn't get up and out of bed, but I couldn't. I was empty inside, had no energy  constant headaches, and just couldn't feel good again. I battled to get the baby to nurse, and decided if he wasn't nursing without a fight within a month, I'd give up. Every hour was spent with him screaming, me bawling, and little progress. Finally, with days to spare before my one month deadline, he finally calmed down enough to latch on and nurse without a constant fight. Months later, although I had gotten out of bed, was back to work, and things were good in my marriage for the first time in a long time, I still didn't feel good. Not only was I emotionally depressed and still battling with the irritability and agitation, but it also was affecting my physical health in other ways as well. Pain in my stomach, racing in my heart, complete anxiety attacks (although I didn't recognize them for what they were), and fluctations in my blood sugar that couldn't be attributed to any particular cause.  I would simply "jellyfish" as my husband called it, and he would end up carrying me out of the store or restaurant, or wherever we were. I would be in tears, he would be embarrased, and eventually I would sleep it off until I felt good enough to get up and function again.  Finally, when the baby was around 4 months old, I went in to see a family doctor. He spent fifteen minutes with me, told me I was clinically depressed, and to get on medication.  I said, "No way", fumed about it, told very few people what he had said because I was completely embarrased, and sent him a three page letter telling him why that was a bad diagnosis and horrible advice. I was in complete denial. Eventually, I got feeling better, worked my way out of it, and said "See!  He was wrong. I'm fine."

He probably got the letter, shook his head, and said "that just proves my diagnosis was correct."


With baby #4, we had moved into a new house, new neighborhood.  I was farther away from my family and friends, and still not willing call my depression by it's name.  My midwife took one look at me at the two week checkup and ordered me to get a vitamin B shot in the butt.  I remember looking at her and breaking down in tears saying "You mean it's not normal for me to cry over every single thing?"  I came back later for another shot, and they really did help... but I was still presenting very real physical symptoms because of the PPD, and still trying to blame it on some unnamed illness.  The anxiety attacks were to the extreme.  I didn't have health insurance at the time, and wasn't willing to add to the family financial stress by going to any doctor or hospital.  I remember having such high anxiety that my heart was hurting and I really thought I was having a heart attack. My thinking was so messed up that I thought, "Oh well, if I have a heart attack and die then I guess I do.  If this is not a heart attack, then I'm just being a baby anyway and letting stress get to me. "  I don't even think I told my husband about it.  For months after the baby came, there would be days I would just get so overwhelmed with stress and anxiety and have so little wherewithal to do anything about it that I would end up in tears on the floor wherever I happened to be at the time, unable to move, unable to care.  I would just cry until I fell asleep and slept it off. Then get up later, feeling groggy and even worse about myself. My blood sugars were testing within a normal range, but I felt like a diabetic whose blood sugars were sky high and then crashing, and it was like that all the time.  It took years before we finally connected the dots with these episodes to stress and depression.  Meanwhile, my kids learned how to get their own peanut butter sandwiches and turn on a movie while I slept. Most of the time, I don't think most of my family members knew how bad off I was.  My friend Tiffanie saved me by getting me out of the house and planning activities with her family and mine. But meanwhile, the depression and anxiety was affecting me mentally too.  I remember one day trying to drive to her house, where I'd been many times before, and I suddenly couldn't remember how to get there.  I was so confused as to where I was, where I was supposed to turn, which street was hers... it took me an extra 45 minutes before I finally found her house.  I was in tears, laughing and crying at the same time, and she was looking at me completely bewildered as to how it was possible I could get lost driving to her house.   This time, I was finally calling it postpartum depression -- but I still wasn't reaching out for the help I needed.  I started taking more B vitamins, and getting myself to the gym to workout. Between the two, they did help a lot, and slowly, I pulled out of my spiral and eventually back to sanity.

When Baby #5 was born, I was back to square one. It felt like the same thing over again - only this time Ryan was gone working. He left when the baby was six weeks old, and I spiraled down hard. We moved soon afterward to what felt like the middle of nowhere, he was working 18 hour days, and I sank lower than I'd ever been before.  This time I was reaching out, but still not to anyone in the medical profession, and my family and friends were all three hours away. I was taking B vitamins, multi vitamins, iron supplements for more energy, coupled with vitamin C drink mixes for better absorption. I was taking Omega 3's, exercising daily, and homeopathic "Dragon Lady" tablets to help as well.  The result?  Rage, anger, a deep, deep depression, and intense hell on our marriage, coupled with sever social anxiety. Just more of the same that I'd already experienced before. The supplements and nutritional support did help, so much that Ryan could see the difference in me when I took them or not, but it wasn't enough. It still took me months to recover. I had barely begun to feel normal again, and along came baby #6.

Baby # 6 came, and the kid never slept. He was clingy and attached and from the time he was 3 months old, he did not take naps. He woke up early and went to bed late and never stopped for a few minutes of peace in between. We called him our "rooster". Meanwhile, #5 did nothing but scream. She never talked, not even to say Mom or Dad or anything... all she did was scream. We had moved again by now, even farther away from family and friends, and I was completely overwhelmed as a mother. I was struggling emotionally and used my business as my escape. When I would leave to go to an appointment or presentation, I had 30 minutes in the van alone. No kids needing me, no potty stops to make, nobody asking for anything. It was the one thing keeping me sane. Ryan supported me in taking the time I needed because he could see I needed the break away from the kids, away from my daily routine, and I came back a more refreshed person.  Meanwhile, we maintained a regimen of supplements that seemed to help and support. I still struggled emotionally, and the PPD was real and prominent.  The doctor I'd had help me through the pregnancy and afterward recognized it and encouraged me to get on some medication. I didn't want to and he didn't push it. The anxiety this time didn't seem as bad as before, and in some respects my life had settled into more of a routine. My stress level seemed lower because of the breaks I was getting, and some of the physical symptoms didn't seem as bad. The inability to smile and laugh though, or to do anything but feel overwhelmed and irritated never went away, and the social anxiety was still very real and vivid.  When the baby was about 6 months old, my teenage brother came to live with us. With him came new stresses, new situations, and new problems. After he had been there about 4 months, and before my baby was even 1 year old... there were several things that happened to add tremendous stress on our family. And just then, I very unexpectedly became pregnant with Baby #7.

Throughout the pregnancy, although I worked to do everything I could to avoid the PPD... the truth was I never had gotten past it after Baby #6. Looking back now, I can see I was doomed from the start. Besides never moving past the previous bout of PPD, the stressors I experienced over the first 6 months of the pregnancy were enormous, threatening, and more intense than I could process... my brother included.  My body went into a protective mode for the baby's sake and my mind could not process through anything I was dealing with, though I couldn't see that at the time. Looking back I can see my anxiety started early on in the pregnancy and never left. I remember the look on my doctor's face as I came in for my first prenatal appointment, and now I can see the concern on his face as he recognized he was dealing with a very anxietous pregnant woman.  I remember him carefully answering my questions and concerns and then saying repeatedly, "but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Right now, you're okay and the baby is okay."

Why can't we see anxiety for what it is when we are in the midst of it?

After Jonnie was born, there were problems with nursing, problems with infections, problems with him being able to keep his food down. It seems like the problems didn't end. After bawling for six weeks straight, finally some of the problems were resolved and he was at least getting enough nutrition. I hoped the bawling would stop and that would be as bad as it got. Instead -- it was the beginning of hell.  Once the baby was finally safe and my body was beginning to heal... the emotional dam that had been built up for the past year broke loose. With my chemical and hormonal levels completely out of whack, there are no words to describe what I went through next. I really don't know how to explain it.

A couple weeks after the baby was born, I remember being a t my brother's house for Christmas and although I can't remember what triggered it, I remember bawling. And bawling. And sobbing, deep gut-wrenching sobs that turned my heart inside out.  I was crying uncontrollably and with no particular reason other than I was a complete and total wreck. It hurt to cry. It hurt to feel so much emotion. It was physical pain casued by a heart and life wracked with an unfathomable ache.

Tired

From Nov 2010


I'm so tired. I've been tired since I woke up this morning. But since I woke up this morning, my mind has not held still. My neck feels twisted in three directions, pulled one way, then the next, with tension and pain. My head wants to explode. But my mind won't stop. 

I'm stressed. Today was bill day. Paying bills, talking with customer service agents who don't have a clue.  Getting the runaround.  Trying to make dollars stretch and maneuver in ways they shouldn't have to. Fitting everything in should be easy - but it hasn't been ... not today.

I'm also supposed to be ready to go north for Thanksgiving. I want to see family. I want to visit with friends.  I really, really miss my husband. I will love seeing my sweet chili peppers that already went north a couple days ago. I keep picturing their happy faces and just want one of Daisy's tight hugs and a kiss on the cheek. I just want them all to drive down here, instead of me drive up there.

I go back and forth from the lists inside my head of everything that needs to be done, must be done, should be done, ought to be done, and could be done ... to the picture of me driving on icy winter roads with snow blowing, stressing out about every time I have to put on the brakes or accelerate. My breathing becomes tight and shallow, my eyes lose focus, my shoulders tense up, and a great pressure begins pushing on the bridge of my nose and between my eyes. I can't focus, I can't think, and the cold blizzard that is supposed to be on the way in is weighing on my chest.  

It doesn't make sense, does it.  No, I know it doesn't. It's illogical - but let me explain.

After Jonnie was born, one of the things that happened right after I snapped mentally was I had to drive back from Salt Lake in a winter storm, to our house in Roosevelt. All the kids were with me, the babies were crying, it was cold and dark and snowy as we went up Parley's Canyon, over Daniel's icy summit, and across the snow blown roads by Strawberry Reservoir.  I didn't want to drive, but circumstances necessitated it. I have driven those roads so many times, in wind, rain, snow, ice, and sunshine. I've driven alone and with all the kids on road trips here, there, and everywhere... and especially on those roads.  We're experienced travelers, and I'm not typically afraid of driving. Yet that particular time, it stressed me out beyond belief. My anxiety was over the top, my frazzled nerves came unravelled, and another part of my mind went "snap!" - like a twig on a frozen night.

I was petrified of driving from that point forward, and for about two months afterward, I didn't drive at all. Anywhere. It was a blessing in disguise really, that I couldn't drive, because I sank low enough and became so turned around in my mind that I would have driven off (is it drived? drove? that's really bothering me that I don't know the proper verb tense for that word. Somebody with a dictionary or an English major help me out.)  anyway... driven off and probably never came back.

Driving.
What a stupid thing to struggle with.
There wasn't even anything dangerous or life threatening that happened.
Why get upset?

And even more stinging - I'm past that! So why is tomorrow's drive bothering me so much!?!
Why am I letting this storm yank my chain and get me rattled?

Why am I letting my own inability to calm my thoughts and focus on what there is to do right now get the best of me?

Why can't I sleep?

I don't know. But right now, this is who I am. Stressed, illogical, frazzled, and unthinking. Yet, it's still me. At least right now.

The Advil is kicking in now though, and the ache in my brain is slowly receding. And as it does, sleep is rolling in.

Good thing.
I need it.

Peace out, I'm going to sleep.

Rachel

Tattered

 Tattered heart

Heavy and cold
There is never a question of my love for you
Or my need
For your love

Curled in a ball
Bound by guilt and shame
At who I am
And who I've been
Numb to the pain
But is it real? 
This question begs

Layers of distress
Burdens of fear
Unable to sort reality from guilt
Voices echo
Are they real? 
Or old guilt
Blinding me from the light

Finding footings to move forward
With strength and courage 
Feels too heavy
Too soon
Too much
Pain slipping through the cracks
Of the numbness that keeps me safe 

And yet the horizon
Cannot stay dark
Golden rays will reach me
Curled in torment
Bring embers of hope
Back to my soul
To fill the void
With life
Again 

Monday, February 2, 2015

Bipolar

Almost three years ago, I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. For so long, I've hid behind shame and frustration and anger and heartache and embarrassment at the diagnosis and what I've felt it means for me. I've been overwhelmed and worn down and exhausted at fighting through the ups and downs that are my life. I have fought the diagnosis, fought the reality of it, fought the meds, fought the restrictions it seems to have on me, fought the results.... and ultimate fought against who I am.

I am not Bipolar. I am Rachel. 
I live with Bipolar. 
It has taken me a long time to understand that, differentiate between the two, and accept it. 

Most of the time, you wouldn't really know. Not unless you are familiar with it yourself in one way or another to see beyond the facade I put up, see past the outside to see me bouncing within, or unless you have spent enough lengths of time around me enough to see the highs and lows manifest, and see the ups and downs take their turns. Most of the time I hide it, or try to, and when I can't .... I hide me. 

The lows I am not even going to talk about. Not today. They are deep, wide, and sometimes frightening. Too frequent a visitor. Too much to open up about today.

The highs are euphoric.  When I become truly manic,  there isn't anything I can't do. I have more energy than three people combined and have more thoughts going through my brain all at once than anyone could really comprehend. My brain and mind are working faster than I can talk.  The ideas are amazing, the options unlimited, the possibilities endless and the energy to do it all is there. I have never done more gymnastics than a clumsy somersault in my life, but suddenly I believe I can do back flips one after another across the yard.  I have never run more than a mile at one time, and suddenly I think there is not reason why I can't run a marathon... today. It doesn't really matter what it is -- I think I can do it, and more, right now.  No idea is too big, no goal is too large, no plan seems unrealistic, no challenge too big to overcome.   It sounds like a lot of good lines from a positive, inspirational talk. It sounds healthy.  Reach for the stars, be the best you can be, go farther than you think you can, be limitless...... and it is all good advice.  It's all great.... and for me -- it's Superwoman Mode. 

You see, for me, there has to be a healthy balance. For someone without bipolar, you picture what you are working for, make a plan, set a goal, reach for the stars, and you do it one step, one day, one minute at at time. It's true -- there isn't anything you can't do!  For me -- Superwoman Mode is when the bipolar mania makes me think I can do it all without taking those steps in between, without the daily dedication to the goal, without the recognition of what else is there. Superwoman Mode is just fine -- until Superwoman is mid flight and hits a low and has no way to stop herself from crashing. 

Superwoman Mode doesn't work so well then.   And it hurts when she falls. I've come to fear it.... because the lows are to low. However high I go, I know the low is twice as low, and 
scary.

The struggle for me has come partially in knowing how to balance something that is the essence of unbalanced. How to live with all of it. How to work with all of it. And how to do all of that without limiting myself because of all of it.  

I am Superwoman. If even for a brief few moments. 
I even wear sparkly shoes and kick ass... sometimes.
I am me, too, and I am learning to embrace me, without being limited to what I think I am when I am on a low. 

One of the things I have worked on is really being aware of what expectations I have on myself and on others. In my relationships, in my friendships, in my work environment... everywhere I interact, what am I expecting?  Sometimes my expectations are so high. And sometimes so low. My best relationships are the ones that there are no expectations, just appreciation, acceptance, and communication.  

I"m still learning. I'm still growing. And I'm still learning how to fly when I am high, and find a way to land safely before I crash.  Meanwhile, there are a couple things I've realized along the way. 

By accepting my limits, I can learn to work with them. 
By working with instead of against them, I become free.

And it all begins with embracing me. 

Amy Purdy (Double Amputee, Snow Boarding Olympian, #DWTS, #2015 Superbowl Commercials) said in her #TEDTalk that "... in our minds, we can do anything and we can be anything.  It's believing in those dreams and facing our fears head-on that allows us to live our lives beyond our limits. ... innovation has only been possible because of my borders. I've learned that borders are where the actual ends, but alo where the imagination and the story begins. ... It's  not about breaking down borders, it's about pushing off of them and seeing what amazing places they might bring us." 

I've learned that I live with bipolar. With it, I have limitations. I have borders. I have challenges. And partially because of it I live a life that is static, always moving, never the same.  I choose to dance with it, and the more I do -- the less it has control. 

I live with bipolar ... I love me. 

Dance.


Rachel










Sunday, October 19, 2014

Reach Beyond

Reach beyond yourself
To find the cure
To all that ails, behind and before
Midst chaos and anguishh
Heartache and joy
Stretching beyond you
Opens the more
Connections in action
Touch lives in the game
Of growth, of survival, of living, of shame
Moments we touch lives
Beyond our own here
Are ones that define
And break through fear
Creation in motion
Formed in a breath
Is all that we have
Is all that is left

Rachel

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Creating Excellence

It is striking me today how much we perceive.... and how much we don't.   How much is going on in someone else's world, and how much the only part we usually see is the part of our life that touches theirs. 

There could literally be a waging battle going on in someone's heart or life, and we may not even know... someone battling cancer, someone grieving their best friend, someone worried about their daughter or son.... and because our lives only brush each other at church, at work, passing in and out of view each day.... we really would hardly know.

Someone said to me today "You have been really nice. I mean really, really nice. What's going on? Did something happen? Do you have some cute guy paying you attention?  You're usually so direct, and lately you've just been really, really nice."

I looked up, with a half smile, and said thank you... with a mixture of sorrow and gladness at her words. I'm glad I've been nice, and yet it saddens me to think this is an anomoly for her.

I wonder how I am perceived. I know the perception of a few, of the ones who finally find their voice of frustration and hurt after harboring hurt feelings for a too long, with lack of understanding... and I usually think that while their may be some validity, their perception is skewed by feelings of inadequacy that I aggravate somehow. 

I know the perception of a few who have expressed their love, their admiration of strength, courage, and capability... and I am appreciative and always moved by their expression... and I usually think that while their may be some validity, their perception is skewed by seeing only the strong exterior I put up around the beating heart.

The easy thing to do would be to fall prey to feeling what I felt for so long... that I wasn't enough. That I wasn't good enough. That the pain I felt was bigger than me, and the hurt I carried would never heal.

The truth is, I am me. Perfectly flawed, perfectly whole, perfectly me. I wish that meant perfect, and we all know it doesn't, it means simply that I am me. Whole, authentically, me.

For the longest time I have struggled finding the good in me to see.... and for the longest time I have not been able to genuinely see it at all.  In recent months I have found more strength, more belief, more being.... and I am so very glad. It really has been life changing for me to really see myself as possibly being perfect, whole, and complete.  Going to the Landmark Forum in November really helped, as did Cody Gibson in the BOLD classes in Vegas. He helped me see for the first time that all the good things I wanted to do and be, were already within me.  That truly was life changing.

And even after all of that, I could not get myself to look myself in the mirror and say these things out loud. While I had begun to feel it in my heart, it was too difficult to say. Until now. Until this past month, well, really, these past two weeks.

This is the note I wrote to myself in December as I attended the Landmark seminar, and when I came home from Christmas Break, I pulled it out of the mail and put it on the dashboard of my van where it has sat ever since.   Slowly, (and only after much prompting), I have worked up the courage to say the words out loud, to myself, every day.  Here is what it says...


Dear Rachel,

You are perfect, whole, & complete, just as you are.  That is your way of being. That is you. Every good thing you want do and be is already within you. It is already you.

You are a leader, you do serve, you come from contribution every day.  You are committed to others success and well being and always have been.  You touch, move, and inpsire others every day.  You are cause in the matter, and the possibilities are endless.  Be. Believe.  Be. Do. HAVE!

I love you!


It is amazing to me how much easier this really has become for me to say, and the more I say it, the more I really feel it.

And so tonight... I'm adding something. Creating something.

I am creating excellence, for me.

The possibility I am creating for myself and my life, and the reality I will bring into existence through my language each day... is this...

I am me. And my way of being is one of joy. Peace. Love, and Joy. My interaction with others brings warmth and light to their life, and lightens their burdens with a smile.

That is me. I am me. And that is my way of being.

Believe.



Tuesday, February 5, 2013

How

How do you spend half your life with someone, and give your heart to them, over, and over again.... and then walk away from it.  You can't. At least I can't. I'm not one to give disingenuously.... and so for those whom I actually open my heart up to... it's all there, open, vulnerable, and completely honestly there.

And consequently, it hurts, beyond compare, when you take the heart I offer, and shred it into pieces, not knowing the gift you hold.

Or worse... knowing.

And yet, here we are....

It hurts.

Friday, February 1, 2013

Be Cause

be cause I am hurting
be cause I'm in pain
be cause I can't change
the things that I've seen

be cause I am thriving
survive and beyond
be cause I am open
to change and become

be cause I am worth it
be cause I am me
be cause I can only
be all i can be

be cause I can stand
in the place of I am
be cause I am nothing
in all that I am

be cause
be cause

I am me

Thursday, January 31, 2013

I Am Me

Its been a rough couple days/weeks.  I have really struggled with feeling like I am once again just hurting people by being alive, by being me, causing pain in their lives by because I am independent, strong, and direct. Because I have ideas, opinions, and will usually say them. And if I see something that can be helpful, improved, or a better way of doing something.... I will usually do something about it, say something about it, and involve myself enough to make a difference.

It hurts me. I hate feeling like I'm hurting someone else.... especially just for being me.   The last thing I want to do is cause someone else pain. The last thing I want to do is hurt someone.

I start to withdraw, to put up more defensive and protective walls around me, fortify my position, and pull away from the people around me, particularly from the people I feel like I'm hurting.

What I see right now is that I because I have withdrawn, and stopped sharing me... I have only made things worse. My silence speaks words of its own.

And what I have really done, is pull away 'because'.... rather than 'be cause'. It is a distinction I am still learning. A difference I am learning to be.


I have stopped sharing my commitment. Stopped living in action on that commitment. Pulled back from what is possible, what I know is there, and what I can do.  For a couple days... I've stopped being me.

Because it hurt. And I withdrew.

Today is a new day, and today I have renewed commitment. I am me. And I am okay being me. I will not live being a ghost of who I am... I will only live being me.

Not perfect in my actions, not perfect in what I do. Not above anyone else...

Just perfectly, authentically me.

Sunday, December 2, 2012

Blogging again

I've decided to blog again, and I'll tell you the reason why.

It is because I have spent the past year keeping myself from being vulnerable, and the one who has missed out most -- is me. In keeping myself safe, I kept myself alone too. And the truth is, I'm humbled at the hands that have reached out to me, the lives and hearts that have touched my life, the friends and strangers that have been there for me, even as I've kept myself reserved. I want to be that for other people. I

In no particular order... I want to give a huge thanks to the following people.... and to hundreds of others who have been in my life this year.

Joe, Alina, Vicki, and Valerie Darger, your love, friendship, guidance, honesty, and help has had no bounds. Thank you for always making me and my feel right at home in your home. I will forever be thankful for you in my life and there are not enough words to express my love.

Cody Gibson, for spending time away from your family and helping me to see that there is more in me than I often think there is, and helping me find the courage to be me.

Dirk Shumway, for reaching out when you didn't need to, spending more time then was called for, and truly supporting me.  You've given me sincere compassion while helping me find strength.

Udi Upalawatte and the Landmark Forum. I am sure I am only barely seeing the impact and I know the ripple effects will be felt for years and years in thousands of lives.

My Bumblebee, Joseph Darger, for having the courage yourself to stand, transform, and share.

Karey Farwell, you kept me going more than you'll ever know. Thanks for being there. Love you!

AJ Hunt, your wisdom and strength and warm heart helped me so much. Thank you!

Zach Ewing, and Steve Mangelson... you both gave me encouragement with real estate. I wouldn't be where I am without each of you. Thank you!!

And also to Ryan, for being in action in your life. Your greatness knows no bounds.







Being Mean

Jonnie and Braelin were sitting on my lap as I rocked them back and forth.  Apparently bored, Jonnie reaches over and starts tickling Braelins nose and putting his hand all over Braelins face.

Braelin:  Jonnie don't!  Stop it!  Jonnie!  Don't do that!!

Jonnie with a smile on his face, keeps on doing it.

Braelin:  JONNIE!

Jonnie keeps on doing it.

Me:  Are you teasing your brother Jonnie?

Jonnie:  Nope.  I'm being mean.

Me;  Why?

Jonnie, still smiling:  Cuz  :)

Open

September 2012

A friend requested once again tonight that I blog again. She said she missed my blog and always enjoyed reading it. I appreciated her asking, reminding me that sometimes what I wrote was good. I don't know what all happened, I started slowly shutting down, feeling more and more vulnerable, and quit posting. Then a little bit of hell broke loose, and I completely shut down.

 It's difficult for me to open up. It's brutally painful to be vulnerable. And yet, I know when I am, it is really me that shows, my true self, and perhaps that is why some people enjoy my blog. I am me. Not always pretty inside, not always right or good. Viciously flawed in many ways, but still, me. I can't hide me on this blog. Otherwise, what's the point of writing. For me, writing clarifies, expresses, and unravels. Sometimes the rawest emotion, the biggest obstacles, and the most difficult challenges seem to be less expansive, more surmountable, and easier to swallow.... after I write.

And yet, there are times when the words simply can't be expressed. They choke in my heart, in my throat, and at the tip of my pen. To write and give them voice compounds the pain, tightens my chest, and catches my breath.  But only when I'm in trauma, and trauma's where I've been.

In February a blow struck my heart and my life that I couldn't get past. I couldn't believe. I couldn't make sense. I still can't, in many ways, but I am at least past the trauma. Mostly.

Trauma is such a simple word, and yet I think it is really not fully understood by someone who hasn't been in it or worked with someone in it for an extended period of time.   But that's okay. I wouldn't wish it on anyone. This is at least one area that I'm really okay not being understood. I am changed in ways I never dreamed. Changed by experiences I never thought would be mine. And, if I'm truthful, still slightly reeling from the shock.

It's okay. We're alive. We're moving through this. And slowly... moving to a place where I'm more okay with me.

Move past the past. Let new truths, and new possibilities begin.


Love,
Me

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

I'm my best me when I'm with you
And when you're gone, a part of me is gone too

I miss the song on your lips
The smile on your face
The touch of your embrace
You pick me up when I am crying
Give me hope when I am dying
You hold me, hold me, when I can't keep trying

You can't keep leaving me
I can't keep not knowing when
Your heart will return My heart will return
You can't keep taking me away
Yet leaving me here to stay
Without you
Without you
Don't leave me again

Friday, January 6, 2012

Random Thoughts

Upward, onward from our depths
It's easier to take those steps
When where you're going is something you know.
When how to get there isn't painfully learned slow.

It hurts to breathe,
It hurts to not.
It hurts to stand in pain.
And yet to sit is not ok
I'm drowning in the rain.

The price we pay for stubbornness of heart
Is sure to show
The pain involved it torches us
From head, to burning sole.
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