Sunday, April 17, 2022

Your Heart Was Made Of Mine

This is a song i wrote as a love letter to my children, and my nieces and nephews. It's about what it feels like to be a parent.  

Sometimes you are hurting or struggling and you think as parents we won't understand or will judge you.. or that you'll disappoint us. 

My kids in particular have expressed to me that sometimes they also may not feel like I can handle it ... 

So... this is me telling you that it doesn't matter what you're going through,  there isn't anything too big, too scary or too much for us to stand with you through. And that there is a really really good chance we have been in a similar situation to one degree or another and you just don't know.

To each of my kids and my bonus kids... this song is for you. 


"YOUR HEART WAS MADE OF MINE" 


Heart beats ringing echoing around me and I'm searching for the key to start the healing

I can hear the storm whisper a story, I can feel the thunder rumbling through me.  

Oh 

you think that you have fooled me, you're hiding all those fears.  

That sunshine covers over, hides the hurricane of tears. 


Oohh 

Baby don't you know your heart was made of mine.  


You think you need to hide

The things you feel inside

The parts that you don't like

Whispers in the night. 

You don't want it to show

You don't want me to know

You'll keep me in the dark

While arrows make their mark

Ohhhh 


Baby dont you know your heart was made of mine. 


Your sunshine stifled tears

The waves from all the years

It's swallowing you whole

Storms raging just below

You don't want it to show

You don't want me to know

You'll keep me in the dark

While arrows make their mark

Ohhhh 


Baby don't you know your heart was made of mine.


Do you think I've never been there, or that I just can't understand

That I'm far past comprehending, imagination doesn't wrap around

Oh I have walked these roads you're walking, I have been where you stand now.  And when the storm has blown you over, and you don't have room to hide

I will hold you when the heartache comes flowing from your eyeeeessss

Baby don't you know your heart was made of mine.  

 I know you don't think you can trust me. 

That the storms will be too big, but you forget I've faced the thunder and I've stood there through the rain. 


I haven't always been your shelter, but I'll walk through any storm.  I've been learning to walk with you, I haven't always been the calm... you may not even need me but I'll stand there through the sto-o-orm.    


Oh baby don't you know your heart was made of mine. 

Tuesday, December 14, 2021

Time Marches On

 Written about my Dad on Dec 13, 2011 ... he died Dec 13 1995. 


16 years.... Time marches on, and in its wake a different life is played. The past has shaped me true, but I've not that person stayed.  Hands of time may carry you past today and yesteryear, who you become in the process determines the shed of tears. 

For me, I'm truly grateful for where life has taken me, ... and for the hands of time that say this moment will not forever be. But in the process, through it all, the memory is clear, and with it lives a lesson of the lives you're touching here. 

Enough now of this corny rhyme,  enough of reminisce. He lies a man just what he was, his heart I truly miss.

Sunday, June 27, 2021

Rubberband

Written sometime in 2011 after Ryan left his mark on my body and was proud instead of sorry for what he'd done. 


The disrespect,  feel no regrets? 

Doesn't your heart ache? 

Is there no empty space? 

Can't you even tell I'm gone?

How did it end so fast? 

Is there no looking back?

Didn't it mean anything to you? 

Why are you standing there?


Dear Lord please hear my prayer

My heart is broken

It's cracked, hurt, and torn. 


You were supposed to care


Like an old rubber band 

You promised to hold strong

And then you snapped

You cracked

You don't don't look back

You can't even hear me calling your name. 


Tears on my face

No pass of grace


Crushed

Written somewhere around 2012 for my girl. 


When life turned upside down

Spinning you round and round

Too fast yet moving slow

        Too much you didn't knowwritten


You were crushed 

And stayed strong 

You were hurt

But kept moving along

You were crushed

And it broke my heart

        To see you

             Going through

                  The pain

                       Alone, alone, alone

                              Crushed 


Baby I know you're there

Dear Lord please hear my prayer

Keep her right next to you


   


Looking Through the Glass

Written somewhere around 2011


Looking through the glass I see you

Wondering how to pass through to you 

How to reach the world you live in

How to make the world you live in real


You are happy, smiling, crying

Living life on high speed riding

Every wave and making

Some of your own


It is life in vibrant color

Contrast high and moving forward

Nothing ever seems to stay the same


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.

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