Dealing With What Time Does Not Heal

Life happens. For better or worse. Beautiful moments, exhilaration and inspiration skipping your heart and blooming your smiles. Jagged painful moments: fear, sorrow, shame and anger are sharp edged as the gouge into your mind carving wounds there that time does not heal. Hoping the memories grow less poignant, less destructive does not lessen their impact.
Accidents. Medical issues. They rip away our assumptions of safety and strength. They take people we love in a moment leaving us with memories we hold fast to, as they are what we have left. Those memories and the unsettling knowledge that we are all fragile, mortal, and nothing can be taken for granted.
Abuse. Abuse scars us. Leaves us limping and torn inside, vulnerable. We begin to perceive ourselves as bad, flawed, broken. We perceive that somehow we deserve this and when we look around we see the people around us unaware of what hellish warping has happened to our view of ourselves and each other. It is difficult to break the cycle. It is hard to talk about the pain. The humiliation. The fear which becomes your constant companion. Part of you fights to take your power back, part of you becomes resigned as the community around you seems unaware or even accepting- making you wonder if perhaps you deserve the abuse. The critic in your head uses it all for ammunition.
Time makes it easier to talk about but the feelings come back. They are always with you. Folks seem uncomfortable around you, not always knowing what to say; they often say nothing or change topics which spirals you further into isolation. It gets more difficult to express the things you need to so you can heal and go forward. Depression and anxiety become constant companions you struggle with.
Even harder: when people you love still compliment and express positives about the people who hurt you. When they help an abuser, even if it is not related to you- it feels like bricks in a wall. Part of you wonders, do they understand what you went through? Do they conceive of how horrible a person can be and has chosen to be to you? A quiet voice whispers " they don't believe you."
No one wants to see the worst in a friend, even when its in front of them.
Abusive people can be very charismatic. They do not abuse everyone. Things get dismissed as jokes or moods. Do not talk about it. People might get uncomfortable. Do not talk about it, the abuser doesn't want people to know or to hold them accountable.
You have to talk to heal. The abuser gave up the right to be respected when they chose to use words and actions to torture you. This. This is truth. Talk. You might save someone else. You will save yourself. Talking with supportive people, healthy people- this helps you redefine yourself. It helps fight the inner critic. It helps you heal what time alone cannot.
The feelings do not go away. They are there when you triumph and when you fall down. Some days the feelings make it hard to get out of bed and go through the motions of a day. It is hard to go through life with an emotional prison sentence you got but never deserved. You did not deserve to be treated badly. You do not deserve to have someone feed your demons for their amusement and benefit. You deserve to be treated with kindness. Respect. Love.
One of the hardest steps is dealing with the shame and humiliation. You stayed for a while. Why? Stop punishing yourself is easier said than done.
You find your communication skills and focus slide into a variable setting you cannot always control. You assume you have to stay in a bad place. You try to keep drama low. You try to keep people around you from getting angry. You judge yourself harshly and the downward spiral continues as your mind exaggerates your weaknesses and imperfections.
The abusers words follow you and haunt you. Is there something wrong with you? What if they are right and you really are worthless and terrible?
Wrong. It is hard to see the positives when you are stuck in the cycle. You fight it in your head but part of you feels and whispers: if they were wrong why am I still vulnerable and why do people still think its okay to let them get close to you? People assume they aren't going to be abusive. Abusers say wonderful things about you to everyone but you- it is one of the ways they manipulate the perception people have of them.
This is one of the hardest things to deal with. You find yourself withdrawing from good friends because they go have good times with the abuser. They cheer on positives for that person while you are struggling with anxiety, nightmares and despair having no idea that their actions hurt.
Then at the darkest moment someone walks up. Someone you barely know. They tell you what they are facing. What they struggle with. They read or heard about your struggle. They know you know. They know they can talk to you. They know you know what they are feeling, thinking and going through. You talk with each other. You connect. A little bit of the burden lifts as you share it.
Then another person finds you. Not always people you expect. They share their story. They know. You know. You share the burden again.
After a while you realize that the tip of the iceberg is what folks see; what is underwater: that is what you start to perceive. You realize something needs to shift.
Dealing with my own issues I have found myself mentally identifying friends who are Angels, who I feel safe with. Who I can talk to. Who help me remember to laugh and create a safe place for me. Who react by giving my feelings and experiences validity rather than more heaps of stinking doubt and silence. I realize with the numbers of people quietly finding me that I am not the only one needing Angels. That with Angels around, the pain although present is something that can be dealt with.
This week I am reaching out and starting to work with many friends to create a volunteer network of "Angels" who we will train to outreach and help abuse survivors receive the emotional support to heal and step forward within the Renaissance festival community. We heal together, alone we hurt. Awareness changes the shape of our worlds.

Dealing With What Time Does Not Heal

Life happens. For better or worse. Beautiful moments, exhilaration and inspiration skipping your heart and blooming your smiles. Jagged painful moments: fear, sorrow, shame and anger are sharp edged as the gouge into your mind carving wounds there that time does not heal. Hoping the memories grow less poignant, less destructive does not lessen their impact.
Accidents. Medical issues. They rip away our assumptions of safety and strength. They take people we love in a moment leaving us with memories we hold fast to, as they are what we have left. Those memories and the unsettling knowledge that we are all fragile, mortal, and nothing can be taken for granted.
Abuse. Abuse scars us. Leaves us limping and torn inside, vulnerable. We begin to perceive ourselves as bad, flawed, broken. We perceive that somehow we deserve this and when we look around we see the people around us unaware of what hellish warping has happened to our view of ourselves and each other. It is difficult to break the cycle. It is hard to talk about the pain. The humiliation. The fear which becomes your constant companion. Part of you fights to take your power back, part of you becomes resigned as the community around you seems unaware or even accepting- making you wonder if perhaps you deserve the abuse. The critic in your head uses it all for ammunition.
Time makes it easier to talk about but the feelings come back. They are always with you. Folks seem uncomfortable around you, not always knowing what to say; they often say nothing or change topics which spirals you further into isolation. It gets more difficult to express the things you need to so you can heal and go forward. Depression and anxiety become constant companions you struggle with.
Even harder: when people you love still compliment and express positives about the people who hurt you. When they help an abuser, even if it is not related to you- it feels like bricks in a wall. Part of you wonders, do they understand what you went through? Do they conceive of how horrible a person can be and has chosen to be to you? A quiet voice whispers " they don't believe you."
No one wants to see the worst in a friend, even when its in front of them.
Abusive people can be very charismatic. They do not abuse everyone. Things get dismissed as jokes or moods. Do not talk about it. People might get uncomfortable. Do not talk about it, the abuser doesn't want people to know or to hold them accountable.
You have to talk to heal. The abuser gave up the right to be respected when they chose to use words and actions to torture you. This. This is truth. Talk. You might save someone else. You will save yourself. Talking with supportive people, healthy people- this helps you redefine yourself. It helps fight the inner critic. It helps you heal what time alone cannot.
The feelings do not go away. They are there when you triumph and when you fall down. Some days the feelings make it hard to get out of bed and go through the motions of a day. It is hard to go through life with an emotional prison sentence you got but never deserved. You did not deserve to be treated badly. You do not deserve to have someone feed your demons for their amusement and benefit. You deserve to be treated with kindness. Respect. Love.
One of the hardest steps is dealing with the shame and humiliation. You stayed for a while. Why? Stop punishing yourself is easier said than done.
You find your communication skills and focus slide into a variable setting you cannot always control. You assume you have to stay in a bad place. You try to keep drama low. You try to keep people around you from getting angry. You judge yourself harshly and the downward spiral continues as your mind exaggerates your weaknesses and imperfections.
The abusers words follow you and haunt you. Is there something wrong with you? What if they are right and you really are worthless and terrible?
Wrong. It is hard to see the positives when you are stuck in the cycle. You fight it in your head but part of you feels and whispers: if they were wrong why am I still vulnerable and why do people still think its okay to let them get close to you? People assume they aren't going to be abusive. Abusers say wonderful things about you to everyone but you- it is one of the ways they manipulate the perception people have of them.
This is one of the hardest things to deal with. You find yourself withdrawing from good friends because they go have good times with the abuser. They cheer on positives for that person while you are struggling with anxiety, nightmares and despair having no idea that their actions hurt.
Then at the darkest moment someone walks up. Someone you barely know. They tell you what they are facing. What they struggle with. They read or heard about your struggle. They know you know. They know they can talk to you. They know you know what they are feeling, thinking and going through. You talk with each other. You connect. A little bit of the burden lifts as you share it.
Then another person finds you. Not always people you expect. They share their story. They know. You know. You share the burden again.
After a while you realize that the tip of the iceberg is what folks see; what is underwater: that is what you start to perceive. You realize something needs to shift.
Dealing with my own issues I have found myself mentally identifying friends who are Angels, who I feel safe with. Who I can talk to. Who help me remember to laugh and create a safe place for me. Who react by giving my feelings and experiences validity rather than more heaps of stinking doubt and silence. I realize with the numbers of people quietly finding me that I am not the only one needing Angels. That with Angels around, the pain although present is something that can be dealt with.
This week I am reaching out and starting to work with many friends to create a volunteer network of "Angels" who we will train to outreach and help abuse survivors receive the emotional support to heal and step forward within the Renaissance festival community. We heal together, alone we hurt. Awareness changes the shape of our worlds.

Changing the Colors in Your World

I remember my childhood. Bright red tulips, a black well cap in the back lawn I sat on and cried. I remember being spanked because I picked that tulip one day. I carried it to the neighbor and tried to sell it to buy my mother a gift to make her happy. Red tulips became a symbol for anger. How dare I pick that precious flower! Accusations of doing it to destroy her pretty flower. I was too young to know irony when it fell around me in tears.

Desolation deeper and darker than the well. My mother screaming at no one in the house while I held my only friend, a small struggling confused barn cat seeking solace and love from that little fluffy kitten who really wanted to run off and practice hunting mice. Shuffling between three of my great grandmothers, who did their utmost to buffer me from life at home.
I remember fear. I never knew what would set my mother off. I remember trying so hard to be worth loving. I remember my great grandmother Alice telling me that she loved me and that what was happening at home wasn't my fault.
For many years I struggled with emotional wounds and scars. Sometimes hurting others to try to get approval or out of frustration as I watched my mother lavish love I could not earn on my brother. I remember the one time she was loving and gentle. I had been playing at a neighbor's house. I was about four years old. I made a slide out of a large cardboard box my neighbor and I wrestled onto a chair. I fell off and got hurt. I was bleeding profusely. The neighbor almost took me to the hospital. My mother took me home instead fearing that it would trigger a neglect or abuse investigation, because that's the priority. She held me, rocking me in a chair until the bleeding stopped. I remember the two times my Father held me I was three and then six. Both times were to remove stitches from my face, cheaper than going back to the hospital. Priorities.
My best friends in childhood were books and barn cats. I spent most of my time alone in my head wandering the brighter worlds created by authors, wishing the characters were real. Wishing for friends as my intelligence and slight autistic characteristics isolated me from cruel teasing classmates.
I started working the summer before seventh grade. I worked at a kennel and babysat. I spent hours working a hose to spray dog turds off the outdoor runs, grooming poodles and teaching them to walk on leads. I earned the money to pay for what I wanted rather than get hassled over wanting clothes that weren't always hand me downs or ugly clearance rack leftovers, books, toys, candy.
As I got older I grew into treating others the way I wished I had been treated. A neighbor girl and I were playing. She accidentally dropped and broke a toy I loved. She cried. She tightened up waiting for the storm and fury. I closed my eyes and thought of Alice. Alice with her soft hands, sweet heart and garden full of flowers you could tend and pick and share with smiles. I looked at the younger girl and took her hand. "It was an accident. It isn't worth as much as your friendship is to me." We both cried. It was how I realized she also came from a world with dark places in it. We picked up the pieces and as we did, we colored each other's worlds brighter.
In college, my friend Nathan was always there. Listening. Caring. Fearing he could end up breaking down with schizophrenia like his mother. He could only be a friend in my heart because I was afraid my dark places could hurt him. My past comes out in bursts like little rainstorms. Gentler as years pass, body trembling from emotions I can't always express. Nathan, Francine, and Mary brought their bright hearts full of colors. Their humor, their resiliency, their humanity were the paintbrushes they used on my heart. We did silly things. We walked St. Bonaventure every friday night around midnight as I worked on climbing every tree I could on campus. They and others joined me on this eccentric quest. They begged me not to prank campus security by swinging in the trees by the roads toward the vehicles going by so I did it more. Thankfully, none of the guards had heart attacks when they saw someone apparently flying out of a tree toward their vans only to vanish as I swung back out of the roads and dropped into the woods to melt away into the night. I was a ghost story.
Each year my life expands. The connections with other people grow. The stark colors get tempered with shades and blending. I communicate more, letting others help me see and let go of dangerous fragments still stuck in places my scarred heart cannot always see. I think of Nathan finding me sitting catatonic outside the Science building after my first real love after several intense secret dates told me he could never love me because I was an Atheist. I don't remember walking to my room. Nathan quietly looked out for me, always on alert and always there when the darkness rose. He would just sit with me. The lone soldier without a gun, manning the wall alone. Eventually my words would come back. He would reassure me that everyone wrestles with something. He would nudge my humor until it rose up and became the tool we both used to fight the darkness.
He taught me that I had strength, that the years of fighting myself alone had given me tremendous power. I realized I could use it to help him, and my other friends. My inner demons were relentless and harsh; I could step into other people's hearts and face theirs without breaking a sweat or shedding a tear. I could step between the boogeymen and the people who were teaching me what healthy was. I could keep them safe at cost.
It cost because it pressed on wounds, emotions flowing without healing.
It took years to learn to let go of the armor. To let go of the weapons. To be the gardener nurturing my heart and the hearts around me, discarding dangerous creatures lurking in the garden rather than wrestling with them or trying to bring out the best in them. Put a bow on a copperhead and you still have a dangerous snake.
Regardless of how much you love, you cannot heal everyone. Each of us has choices. We decide what is or isn't in your world. We color them with perspective and emotion. We determine our focus and attitude. Reaching out to healthy friends for perspective is the first step. As the holiday approaches, on the darkest day of the year, my thoughts are of you. I appreciate each of you and how you change the colors in my world bringing vibrance and light with your presence.

Wherever you are today in your world, I offer you my paintbrush. It's a little tattered and beat up. It has been used as a sword more than once. The colors on it are bright. Your world should be full of laughter, appreciation and beauty. So, let's get painting!

The Unspoken, Hate and Healing

Hate. A strong ugly word. I remember being on an ambulance call in a small town in western NY. The individual we went to transport to the hospital was one of two black people who lived in our town. I went to school with him. He was nice. He was smart. He was muddled sitting in a kitchen, in a dingy small town slum house. The rest of the squad had the look of impatience and unspoken distaste. The words they used to justify encouraging him to deny transport "drugs." No evidence of drugs there but that's what they wanted to believe. I tried to do vitals and help him, the others stood back. The unspoken body language he read motivated him to decline transport.
I was shocked. There was awkwardness after we left. This was a truly skilled squad, I was friends with everyone on that call. My brother was on that call.
That silent, unspoken consent to view a situation in a way that didn't rock the boat and bowed to outdated values was eye opening.
I started really looking at how I was raised. At my community. Why did my half black aunt tell most people she was northern Italian?
When I was young, I tried to do things for social approval in the hopes I could win the love of my parents. I wanted friends.
I was rewarded for cruelty and ridiculed for compassion. Tricked my brother into drinking toilet water, get to sit on my dad's lap. Trick the neighbor into shooting a dog in the face with a squirt gun, so she got nipped- Mom chastised me but Dad took me out to point out animals so he could shoot them. Intimidate someone, Mom might brag to all her friends.
It didn't feel right. I was small, smart and female in a small minded town. If I'd been a boy, I would have been popular. I wasn't, so I made people nervous. Other kids didn't like me. I was teased, locked in lockers, bullied and got attacked by other kids. I spent a lot of time at the nurses office. After a while, I stopped seeking approval. I watched. I observed. I stopped wanting approval from peers. Over time, watching how my parents manipulated and mistreated nice people I became embarrassed and started learning from those nice people how to be less of a monster and more of a human being.
I chose to grow.
Hate.
With the election and the behavior of a portion of people who seem determined to say and do terrible things- in part for approval from people they look up to and in part due to their desire to do something or say something to hurt those they choose to hate or antagonize.
Confronting them only gives them reinforcement and resolve- locking them against letting go of hate, asking them questions and getting them to see where their hate logic fails is the key to unlocking that door.
It's easy to hate a group of people. It's easy to judge. It's easy to dismiss, justify, turn a blind eye and immerse in the shallow socially acceptable waters of those who are like minded.
It's harder to accept responsibility for mistakes and hate or fear driven words and deeds. It is harder to change and accept that the views you were raised with might not be right or respectful.
What causes hate? Judgement. Teachings. Past experiences which might have been with an individual but have been generalized. "You people," "they," "all," "always," and "never" are dangerous words.
Hate is not something you fight, fighting hate is like arguing with a fool. You come out exhausted, drained, frustrated- and the fool still never changes.
Hate is something you change through your own choices and behavior. Questions. Information. Helping others realize they are hurting other wonderful people who did nothing to warrant such treatment or judgement. Imagine hate as a pus filled wound someone is proud of, to reduce it the person with the wound has to realize they have a wound and they have to want to address it. If you chase them around throwing bottles of antiseptic and squirting antibiotic ointment in their direction- its going to make a mess and its going to utterly fail.
To change hate and reduce bigotry, we as a people need to come together and communicate. We need to build support networks. We need more education and critical thinking, less emotional responding.
We need to find a way to remind people that we are all human, we all deserve to be respected.
Bashing someone because of their gender, religion, ethnicity- these things need to become a thing of the past. This will only happen by coming together, demonstrating over and over that the justifications people hide behind to do horrible things are bullshit and that our society will not tolerate it- regardless of who leads the country.
Folks, this is on us. We've got to go beyond our echo chambers and face the hate with truth. "You got beat by a girl." "What does gender have to do with it?" Is my new response. Actions speak louder than words. Demonstrate reality, and the house of cards collapses. Create connections. Remind people of connections they have. Real people making real strides forward despite the biases they face.
Some day perhaps the unspoken will not be prejudice, some day I hope to see the unspoken to be inclusion and empathy.

Don't Flinch

Things happen. Society churns like a choppy sea. People buy into hype. This will never work. People will react negatively. There are a million negative self talk scripts that become words and actions. People get discouraged and change course because they perceive an insurmountable challenge.
Don't flinch. Don't buy in. Don't feed hype. I challenge you to defy it! In the face if disbelief dance, smile, shine and perform your finest as if there was no one watching even when hundreds are. Suddenly clown masks and clowns are feared? 
Your actions can change the tide. One person trying. One person becomes two. Two become five. Five become hundreds. Try it. My boss decided this week no more feeding hype. All masks are allowed in our Halloween event. All characters welcome. Family friendly behavior expected. To herald this shift back to normal operations from no scary or clown masks, various members of management decided to dress as everyday clowns seeking work. I decided to be the obligatory Hobo Clown. I was chargined that it took two minutes and minimal changes to my everyday clothes to transform. I grabbed two props: a rubber knife and a small box.
I greeted patrons coming in with a tragic face and my sign. They were shocked. They were surprised. Initially intrepid, my antics quickly reminded them what REAL clowns are. The smiles appeared like snowflakes in a blizzard.  They were amused. Delighted. They were caring, and they were protective. Some whispered "Are you allowed to be here, be careful, don't let anyone hurt you, I wish I brought a pie- just made some today..."
Thumbs ups, nods, and gratitude. Gratitude you ask? Gratitude for restoring their faith in what Clowns are.
I pulled my rubber knife and stabbed myself dramatically when I got fearful looks. The fear instantly vanished at the absurdity they faced. Clowns walk the razor edge, ridiculing our fears and reminding us to laugh when we want to cry or scream. They stand in the fire and dance daring the Universe "Is this all you got, cause I got a prop and I'm not afraid to use it!"
Last night I danced that dance. Last night I waddled, overreacted, made goofy faces, silly noises and helped the patrons who walked into our event remember to laugh and restored their faith in Clowns.
Feeding hype, feeding fear by curling in a ball or recoiling does not make it stop. Being strong, bold, defiant and performing with integrity does. In the face of hate, prejudice, and stigma- the best we can do is continue to shine. Uphold and demonstrate what it is to be human, to heal, care and connect with each other- despite the rampant hate mongering and fear based hype the media pumps at us. Real Clowns DO that. 
You will find that daunting mountain is nothing when the wind catches your wings and carries you beyond it. Let it. Soar.

The Always Never Trap

Stress can be good or bad. Eustress is the fancy dress up name for positive stress. Getting a promotion, planning a vacation, versus negative stress which we all know about and occasionally shake our fists and frown at.
Stress adds up. Emotional stress is subtle. It can be corrosive. You are juggling a million things and then someone says something or does something that hits you wrong. You have a day or week where things seem to slip rather than fit.
You find yourself in the all or nothing trap unaware that you've hit the spiky bottom.
Hurting yourself through internal overly critical black and white assessments that inaccurately represent you or how those around you perceive you.
Emotions in the way of neutral accurate perception. Everything is wonderful becomes everything is terrible and why am I alive? I can do anything becomes I am a total failure. Stop. Stop right there.
You are wrong about something. You are not a total failure. You can choose to step back, let go of the pain and self defeating internal dialogue. Reach out and communicate. Get reality checks from healthy supports. Take a walk. Work on a pet project. Do something for someone else. I think of the over 60p.people who participated in the 5K Zombie Run for a local children's charity in Muskogee. Laughing, dressing up as zombies and in fun rainbow ridiculous running tutus and seizing life as they dodged the zombies and helped a charity. Nobody there was always or never, all or nothing. I listened to runners cheer each other on, watched groups encourage and support each other as they aimed to try to 'survive to the finish line.'

Find something that gets you laughing and takes you out of your internal self trap. Put things back in perspective.
Remember your accomplishments, the goals you are working on and what you are working toward. Give yourself a break.
Be aware of your language internal and external. Absolutes are absolutely the last thing that belong in healthy self talk.
Start watching for signs of the sneaky trap. What triggers do you have that set it up? Lack of sleep, anxiety, vitamin or mineral deficiency, social isolation, finances, communication issues, emotional scars that flare up?
When you catch yourself slipping, how can you change how you say? Take ownership and problem solve. When this happens I feel like ---. Communicate with those around you "I am feeling rough today, and ask for help."
Do not assume no one has time for you. Do not assume no one cares. Do not assume you are worthless or a failure. Do not assume!!!
If you aren't communicating clearly- even if all you can manage is to say "I am in a bad head space" or "I am not communicating well" people are wrapped up in their own life juggling and may not catch the silent signs to reach out to you. Whatever has hit the all or nothing switch- although it feels insurmountable, it will pass and eventually it will be small and ridiculous in the rearview mirror of your life.

For today, take care of you. Attend to how you talk to yourself and what words you use in dialogue with yourself and those you love.
Quit beating yourself up over life lessons and focus on the reasons you can choose to smile and grow. 

Living in a Country of Glass Houses

Several beautiful friends have written elegant Facebook posts to raise awareness and empower the greater community facing derision and furtive attacks from folks who feel the Slingshot of Judgment will somehow sanctimoniously get them some sort of reward. I remind myself often that you cannot make someone who chooses to be blind and deaf to reality change. You can offer perspective and hope that it hits a chord.
So today, I write this ballad.
Years ago I volunteered on the county's mental health crisis hotline. I was the lone professional stooping down to offer my free time at first. I took a call from a girl who knew she was a girl except there was a piece that did not belong. She thought she was broken, that something was wrong with her. She had tried cutting it off. My heart broke for her. I gently explained transgender. I was the first person to tell her the only wrong thing was her body goofing up its sexually expressed genes. She became less distraught as we talked, realizing that she wasn't a freak or alone. That she could have support and go through medical treatment to get the piece that didn't belong removed, that she was one of many that deal with transgender reality. When I went to the monthly meeting for volunteers it was eye opening. They had stood by outdated value systems until I went over that call. Regardless of their backgrounds or beliefs- every volunteer understood where that caller was coming from, none of them wanted any human being to feel so outcast or alone. They all listened. Transgender was new to them. After that call, that tiny county changed how it handled calls. I never knew anything about her except her voice. I hope she's smiling and that her world isn't a dark one anymore- it never should have been.
Going back further, back to when I was six. I was rambunctious. I was a small child. I loved swinging wildly on my great grandmother's macrame plant holders. I collided with the corner of a wooden table. I was in the emergency room, they had just done stitches. A teenage neighbor, a strong girl, she was there too. I had just been released from restraints. I was still in fight and panic mode. She calmed me down. She was a role model in a life full of screwed up ones. She looked sad. I saw she had just gotten stitches too. On her wrists. I asked what happened. Her mother cut in and said she broke a glass washing dishes and it sliced both wrists. Odd that the cuts were neat. Odd that the girl had an expression that shouted the words were a lie. I understood. My mom made up shit all the time. CPS was the boogeyman she would terrorize me with.  People acted like there was something wrong with the girl. The same people who begged for lies and platitudes. The ones who chose to see the two mothers as shining stars rather than scrutinizing the abandonment and emotional abuse beneath. Our struggles were different but we sat there islands that for a moment were not alone.
Years later, I heard she went to Canada and married her girlfriend. Last time I saw her she had smile lines. I hope she is still smiling.
Working in mental health I walked through the hearts and minds of those broken and struggling to find a reason, struggling for balance.
The refrain is the words of Little Billy, whose parents sexually, emotionally, and physically abused him. "I just want to help people. I want to be worth something. I want to save them. I want them to look at me and see a hero when they needed one." The hero he never had but imagined and wished for. I understand why Baum wrote Wizard of Oz. Billy was my Dorothy. His fractures could never fully heal due to limited IQ. It did not stop him from trying. He never quite understood how he was a hero to some of us on staff. He could never defeat his demons, born with both hands tied genetically behind his back. If he is still alive, he is still trying.
If only we all had his fortitude.
People shout judgements at each other. Slap labels and toss derogatory jokes like grenades with the surprised "why are you offended" reaction when you call them on it. Why aren't we teaching tolerance, empowerment, and cooperative team building? Empathy is in a drought, hate is the scent on the wind.
Who pays the price?
Unfortunately, the stones get thrown wily nily based on Memes and attention seeking headline teasers. Shots of venom to cloud the judgement; first round is always free. You pay the price in integrity.
Today, take a moment. Let go of stones. If you are going to pick up a stone instead of throwing it, try rock sculpture or perhaps putting it gently back down in respect for the millions who struggled with their personal demons and lost. The suicides. The victims of hate crimes. The victims of senseless violent crimes. Those who fought against diseases and were defeated.
For them, reach out and be open to caring for the amazing people fighting battles in their heads you have no right to judge. They are the stars that shine in my sky that inspire me to connect and keep reaching.

Life as a Human Cartoon

First thought, being a cartoon- even a half cartoon would be great! Cartoons fall from great heights to reappear perfectly fine moments later, they costume change easily and they come with a laugh track.
A half human cartoon, on the other hand lives with the attributes of both worlds. Mundane life complicated by the universe's twisted sense of humor. Walking down the sidewalk and ending up in the right place at the right time to get doused with a huge puddle by a passing car. Finding out the guys in high school avoided you because your  brother sold them dates with you that never happened- keeping their money and telling them to avoid you fury at the "arranged date" by avoiding you. Going on a date only to find out the guy has a girlfriend and has to suddenly leave: and cue the falling off a cliff with funny sound effect and anvil afterwards. Little tasks may become epic through random chance. Laugh tracks, in real life do not always have good timing.
I studied Wiley Coyote as a child; marvelled at his perseverance. Now I use a sense of humor and perseverance to work on moving forward. Emotional reactions and expectations can get in the way of moving forward. Being half cartoon, easily distracted is part of life that you adapt to and accept. Adapt.
Patches. I patch myself up often, with the goal being that each patch offers the chance for healing to take root, offering a buffer until I address the root causes fully. Each patch reduces the weight and severity of what I carry and deal with.
I offer patches out. The idea that other people may have the same or worse battles in their own heads, sometimes burdened by dark emotions that are better tossed into a trash heap than experienced motivates me to share so that we all move forward.
Now, profound expressed I will likely slip on a banana peel or end up chased home by a runaway giant dragonfly or perhaps instead I will just get to enjoy the sound of crickets and the sight of Fox River. Perhaps today, I can just be human and that is enough.

Secrets You Don't Know You Keep

I was three, maybe four years old. I was sitting in the hay in the barn playing with the barn cat and her kittens. My father walked in. Looked at me and stepped on a kitten. Suddenly and completely. He lifted his foot. It was flattened, it was dead. I was crushed. I cried and yelled at him. His response "It should have been you." I ran to my mother for support. She claimed I made it up. Somehow I made up the kitten. Somehow I fabricated the corpse. She mentally reduced in her reality the number of animals rather than deal with an unpleasant truth.
I remember doing laundry, as a preteen. Hoping no one would catch the stains hidden on dirty white socks. See, I didn't know what sex was, so I did not know the 'fun secret game' played in my teenage uncles' sleeping bag once or twice a year when he came to stay over. I didn't know the slick, sloppy stuff was semen.
The day the issue reared an ugly head in light of day it was dismissed. A made up tale by a crazy child, who was no longer allowed to handle guns. The sleep overs stopped. I found depression, or rather it found me. My eyes stopped seeing the world. My mother had to take me for an eye exam and the verdict was legally blind in second grade. Some days I want to see the world, most days now. Unfortunately, vision doesn't miraculously return.
Each of us has different life experiences, we have different perspectives and stories.
The challenges and hardships we face and surpass give us an appreciation for the gentle, sweet, healthy, beautiful people and world around us.
The last couple of years had ups and downs. I recount these stories not to burden you, but to free you. To free you to let go of secrets you do not know you keep. To heal and release what you are not responsible for.
I have said before not every story is mine to tell, sometimes there are many unspoken truths between lines. You can be drawn to and love someone who is unhealthy for you. You can also realize how unhealthy that is. You can assess the feeling: is it genuine love or just magnetic draw into abuse? Can you choose to heal and let go of the magnet?
I did. Instead of letting things escalate beyond being drawn into emotional pain, mind games, latent potential of physical violence I made a choice. I chose to value myself. I chose the expressions in the eyes and hearts of those who are healthy friends. I chose to set the baggage down and go.
This is the last time I mention them u less it is to talk about breaking cycles of abuse.

The first person who has to break that cycle is you. Facing your inner self and saying I am worth more than this, I deserve better than this, I do not deserve judgement or punishment, this guilt is not mine.
Say it every day. Live it. Let the loving people around you help you flow forward and heal. You deserve to be healthy, loved, respected and empowered. We all do.

Secrets allow abuse to continue. Secrets endorse it. Secrets allow abusers the power to continue, or to move on to an unprepared new target.

You do not always see it coming, it gets blamed on stress, health, finances. It is never acceptable. Never. You are not crazy.

Today I let this all go with a heavy heart. Children and pets. They get caught in the middle. People keep sharing pictures of black cats on my facebook. I love them. I still grieve Rumor. Now I grieve Sadhu as well, Danny has him. I have no idea how Sadhu is. It is the one way he can still affect my emotions. I have reached out for neutral mediation other than that, I have to let it go.
Goodbye sweet Sadhu. I hope life treats you well and I am sorry I didn't force the issue and take you to Scarborough when he insisted you stay with him.

Ease Up

A bad mood curls around your neck and shoulders. You become prickly, agitated, and pressured like a summer storm. How did it develop? Gray clouds of overly critical self judgement, frustration at perception of self limitations you feel you should be long past, the internal evaluation where the interactions with others are distorted by past scars.
You catch yourself running tight circles in a ring, snorting like an angry bull tired of being led and used, ready for a tranquil grass carpeted field. Then someone reminds you to breathe. You look around and realize the arena is in your own mind. You are surrounded by love and kindness, people who encourage problem solving, goal setting, positive motivation. The people around you mirror what you feel and how you deal.
Relearning the shape of relaxation, easing up and letting healing and life happen at their pace. Relieved to be in a place where I can Ease up.
No matter how strong you are, if you live constantly tense and exhausting yourself, then you run out of strength and you fall. Pushes forward are frustrating wrestling matches with yourself, even where we blame someone else: it always comes down to us. The choices we make, how we perceive, how we react. Us.
A good friend said recently "You knew your choice in the relationship you were last in was not healthy: it's why you never asked any of us closest to you about it. You dealt with what you needed to, you're talking again, so you are making healthier choices."
Silence means there is a raging inner dialogue, where analysis and emotion are trying to reconcile with perceived reality. Neither one is particularly good at driving, both certain they are, and unfortunately, life tattered their road map. Instead of pushing them to figure it out, I am learning to work on figuring out a better map for them, letting it be easy like a sunny summer day. Blue skies, no rumbles and no unexpected rain.

Freedom is Gold

The Superstition Mountains are best known for the Legend of the Lost Dutchman's gold. A miner came to town boasting of a big find, with a chunk of gold to lend credence to his words. He died before anyone could get the exact location of the hidden gold mine. People have searched for over a hundred years, some dying on their quest for the lost gold. There are tourist sites in Apache Junction that recount the legend and offer the actual history. You can visit Goldfield, a ghost town that used to be an active mine. The Superstition Mountain Museum, Lost Dutchman State Park, Peralta Trail, Weaver's Needle, Apache Trail, Canyon and Apache Lakes, and Tortilla Flats are some of the golden nuggets you can enjoy as you explore history and desert.
The Superstition Mountains tower about four thousand feet above the desert valley. I have hiked to the highest point, I have hiked them in rain, snow, and at night by flashlight. I have watched lizards, seen petroglyphs,  and marveled at the forests of cacti. Sat in the night watching traffic at night in Phoenix. So close to the city but remote.
This year I arrived lost in my heart, soul heavy with sorrow, searching for myself and a direction. I went with the wind, except the aspects of my life that were burdensome stayed with me despite hopping planes and changing names and lives. I kept coming back to the desert. I kept going back to the mountains. There is an ancient indian myth of a white lightening woman who came from the sky and toppled the enemies attacking the tribe from the mountain. A spirit of a woman protecting a peaceful farming tribe, her legend set in my heart. She was their freedom.
I watched sunsets. My thoughts and feelings were the loudest sounds I heard, overpowering the night calls of crickets and coyotes. I was not happy. I felt diminished, stressed, helpless. I did not feel valued by the person closest to me and when I expressed this it was to receive ridicule and rants. Like the desert scavengers, I was surviving. I felt a kinship with the bold coyotes and the ranging ravens. If they could survive I could too. My choices were not helping me heal but they seemed to help my significant other. He needed help to live- I could be strong enough to survive that, couldn't I?
Golden light setting the cholla on fire, the fierce warrior  becoming desert royalty wearing a crown of sunset with robes of peach, rose, and wine colored clouds. Each night the clouds silently danced in different colors and patterns. Would you miss the beauty in their graceful performance? Many evenings I watched their performance and it gave me heart even when my emotions were drowning me. The sunsets circle the sky rather than only occupying the western side. It is impossible to avoid exclamation at times, the beauty stretching to see if it can outdo prior exhibitions. The best antidepressant is a moment of gentle beauty.

At Fish Creek Canyon, I played in a waterfall that would be gone in a day, just a black mark trailing down hundreds of feet of mountain.  I felt the ice cold water and wondered about the choices I made.
Listening to the wind, I felt it move through the canyons. Life is a series of paths, sometimes we reach a point where we find our best, healthiest option is change.
Wind, rain and ice wear the mountains down gradually. I have camped on primitive land in the Superstitions in years past, the mountains quietly stand. They've let me lean on them before when my life was heavy with change.  They call me to climb and explore, or was it the Lightening woman calling me? Was it her nudging me to chase myself down trails, around cacti and through washes? Such an irresistible curiosity, renewing my energy and spirit. More trails, sunset vistas, my feet kept going forward. Swimming in ice cold Canyon Lake, I realized life was a path and the one I was on wasn't right for me. I could change. I could be free!
I could stop letting someone dictate my life. Each of us is responsible for ourselves. I was surrounded by beauty, and if I chose to stop letting a toxic person paint my world I could heal. I became myself on the morning I drove away, freshly reborn east of Phoenix.
To me, the Superstition Mountains are freedom. Many die lost in the Superstitions, some fruitlessly searching for gold even now. I found myself there, found the audacity to pursue my heart, to reach past anxiety to strive for my dreams. I call that gold. 

Insert Catchy Motivational Phrase Here

There are easily a thousand motivational phrases. All right and all wrong. What you need to hear may not make it through the radio static of life. Stress comes and goes like a tide. How we perceive and feel regarding events impacts our well-being.

We learn more from our mistakes than we do from our successes.
Last night I stared under the hood of our van staring at the parts. I know some of their names, can monitor fluid levels and jump batteries. I felt frustration well up. I grew up in a mechanic shop. I spent my time spreading sand on oils spills, taping windows for paint jobs, handing tools to my father and the other alcohol sodden mechanics. They were the best babysitters. I behaved for them because I liked the intricate puzzles of metal they labored over. I asked questions until I fully grasped that I wasn't going to get answers. I was a girl. I wasn't supposed to like engines. I wasn't supposed to learn and being a four year old I respected my elders. I feared getting sent to more sitters who yelled, ignored or bullied me. I should have remembered: I ended up at work with my father because the babysitters kept losing me. I hid from them, escaped from them, made a regular mockery of their attempts to supervise me. I still feared being sent to another mind numbing trailer with moronic shows blaring on a cheap television.
If only minds had been open. If only generations of gender roles had not been so strong in that small town. When I got older I worked at a different tree farm. My family wouldn't hire me as "What would people think of we had women on our construction crew?" At the Cooperative, they thought I was a highly skilled, knowledgeable, hard working member of their propagation team. My rooting rates were remarked on. No one blinked at my gender. They did remark on my colorful vocabulary.
My mistake was acquiescence. I grew out of that. Mostly.

I am not comfortable feeling helpless. I am not comfortable feeling like I'm failing. Is anyone really, or do some just put a better mask? My best and worst attributes come out. My demons circle and whisper louder than thunder. It seems like I'm arguing when I'm listening and arguing to get more detail to better equip myself to deal with myself and situations more effectively.

I've been learning. When these situations arise to stop. Focus forward. Problem solve. Think about past lessons. Think about specific friends and situations that remind you to maintain perspective. Find something to ground with, something to work toward.
Who are your supports? Whether they know it or not, take a moment to reach out of your head to check in on friends. Be there in their moment. Give their voices and conversation a chance to work it's magic. There really is nothing like a smile, friendly voice, a gentle hand on your shoulder, or a focused hug.

Many challenges I navigate through are never expressed aloud. Most come from within. It is humbling to realize you are your best support and worst enemy.

This year I had to face the reality that I cared too much for someone who echoed the worst voices in my head. I let their words enhance the destructiveness of my own shadows. I reached a point where I faced myself. I chose to heal. To grow and to listen to the healing, growing, positive voices instead. I chose to invest in myself. If you don't invest in you, if you do not value you, why would others?

I prepared for Shades of Faerie, nervous about my stories and the event. Taylor Grant and Joshua Safford are amazing storytellers. Would My stories be up to muster? Would my character? Preparing for the event, dealing with last minute details the unexpected happened.

I've spent a lifetime mastering flexibility and acceptance. Make do could be my motto. The guy who was going to do video capture couldn't do it. Omar and I were running errands in Tulsa. He broached the idea of picking up equipment and doing video. It would cost us, but it would be an investment. Initially, an investment in my character and career development; also offering us the option of being able to do video work and other projects. Investing in me, investing in him, investing in us.

The show went well. Compliments and performance awards were given to all three of us for the show.

I think about that often. I've been the one investing in me. My great grandmothers, my grandfathers did before they died. Their investments were emotional. This was a financial investment. From the time I got out of sixth grade, I worked. I made my own money. I bought my own clothes, books, toys. I paid my bills and expenses and played every sport well, got top grades. My parents focused on my siblings. They invested in them.

Having someone invest in you gives you a profound feeling if it's something you are not used to.

Who invests in you? What do you acquiese to? Should you?

Each day is a new day, life is challenges and triumphs. Tragedies and comedies in situations and circumstance that chain from second to second. Finding a way to learn from both in part of being human.

Words Have Power

Each of us has words we associate with experiences and feelings. Rain can bring rainbows or thick mud and brown days. The scent of an Apple pie cooking can be soothing. The sound of peepers at sunset singing for rain may lull you to sleep.

I've lived with words I avoid. Words who bring dark boxes I've put in locked corners of my mind back to the forefront. Like venomous snakes slithering somehow through cracks back out along the edge of perception until an unknowing person innocently drops one like a grenade into the conversation. I physically wince like ice cream hit a nerve in a broken tooth.

The word Joy. It means happiness, exuberance. It was my mother's name. She had a wonderful public mask she strived to be believed as being. She still does. She chased and earned the adoration of the community and my siblings. I was the unwanted child. She had wanted a divorce and an abortion. Face and public opinion were more important. I paid. Those who got close enough saw through her and were there for me. When her bipolar symptoms went unmedicated and she used child protective services as my childhood boogyman, it was my great grandmothers who intervened. She screamed in an empty house as I cried outside hugging reluctant kittens and wondering why life was like this. Joy. Joy screaming. Joy hostile hitting where it would not leave a bruise. Joy threatening to kick me out, so I'd live in a barn or have to pay rent at my own home as a teen. Joy screaming threats when I was asked out by a boy at age 16. Joy intensely telling me how stupid and worthless almost daily for most of my childhood. Joy that my siblings were wanted and oblivious and my father was spineless. I was alone in an unreal reality. No matter how much I achieved I couldn't become valued. The word Love was a weapon wielded just before an emotional net would be dropped and tormenting psychological games would ensue. I learned to hide. I learned to survive. I learned psychology. I learned avoidance. I learned to strive. I learned to ensure. I learned I wanted more than to exist in a world with that kind of Joy. 

That is what Joy was. 

Not anymore. I disowned my parents years ago. I ran. I've crossed the country dropping baggage at each beautiful place and with each achievement. The shadow of the past always had a feeling of dread. These horrible unhealthy people would force their way back into my head. Then I realized they cannot. I pick who is in my heart and in my head. I'm not running anymore. Their baggage is gone. There's no feeling left. Joy doesn't hurt anymore. 

Joy is a beautiful day with friends. Joy is a feeling of happiness after a great achievement. Joy is a purring kitten held close, the sound of bluebird on a sunny day, the shared shenanigans of silly side jokes. Joy is what I make it. Its my choice.

I'm digging through the old boxes, I'm releasing the snakes out of my head. They were not anything to be afraid of.
The part of me that gave them power was and it's long past time for me to own that.

What do you have locked in your head? Have you taken the time to look again and reassess? Take the power out of the larger than life villains, see how pathetic they become in the light of grown up life.
Leave the baggage in the past and see where tomorrow takes you. 

What is Best for You

It sounds like an empowering phrase but often it is a hemp rope slipped softly, loosely around your neck that tightens and pulls you off course. What is Best for you according to someone else. Here, step out of the drivers seat in your life and let this person take the wheel. Their words seem logical, plausible, or considerate. Truly empowering people never try to slip behind your steering wheel. They ride along and offer questions, maybe even offer to help navigate the path you've chosen.

Insert a compliment first, twist in a sincere plea for help. Seems alright, seems harmless, seems reasonable. It is easy to get sucked in. Take a step back.

Look at the compliment. Notice the unintend slight. "You should do this because I need you to, because you'll be amazing at it." Somewhere in there is the unspoken or sideways hint, what you're choosing to work toward is not valid and you're better off doing this instead because really in an outside opinion I'm suggesting passively that you should step away from what you value. I'm making it sound reasonable with compliments and couldn't do it without yous. Mutual need is often suggested. You need this. I'm helping you. I want what's best for you. Really?

They mean well, they're looking from a different perspective and different values color their sight. There is good reason they say the road to help is paved with good intentions. 

 Their statements also quietly tell you they feel you should let them make your decisions. Somewhere in the small print they're actually saying your decision making is questionable at best. Be aware. It is very small print. It is heavy. It can be paralyzing.

There are falsehoods in our heads put there through our lives by others. For whatever reason: control of your choices, fear and self interest, punishment for wrongs that could be as simple and huge as being born. They could be put there out of love, desire to see us achieve things they value or to see us avoid the hazards of life. 

Let's get a few things straight. You are not stupid. You are not worthless. You will be able to survive. You are valuable as You are. You are not crazy. Its not a fad or a phase, your choices and feelings are valid. Never let people whirlwind you into their drama. You are not responsible for anyone else.

So many statements are made to you throughout your life without really ever respecting or considering you. Every single one serving some emotional or financial goal of someone who is putting themselves first. There's subjective communication, it's rushed and assumptive. We're in this together, you are included but in reality it's as the willing meal rather than as an equal. It can happen at work, school and even at home. People drop verbal emotional bombs on each other without consideration. Sometimes they detonate at different times, some slowly lurk like mines waiting for the right pressures to set them off.

Honesty is important to me. I strive to be consistent. I said the last couple of years that my goal was to heal the sacred clown. In attempting this improbable goal, I found I had to rise up and determine my value, my goals and what really is important to me. I ended up healing myself and learning that each of us can only truly choose to heal ourselves. No one can truly heal someone else unless that person chooses to heal.

I changed myself. I grew. I found my value, my goals, my passion. I found myself. No one could do that for me. 

When you get multiple well meaning people putting words in your head that sound like their being helpful and encouraging you by discouraging you from pursuing your real path it gets easy to lose your way. It sounds reasonable. Ambiguity hides the truth. Camaraderie insinuates loyalty in a situation that in the end is really just self serving for someone else. Someone motivated enough to press a positive argument of stepping away from your goals for them because it's the nice thing, the safe thing, the best thing for you- besides, they need you and somehow you are suddenly responsible to them?! Parents and friends and partners do this without meaning to at times. 

You have to listen to yourself and attend your needs and goals first. No one else's life or career is your responsibility.
Unless you are a parent. If you are a parent, do one crucial task: teach your child to value themselves. Teach them to look out for themselves and do not try to manipulate them because of your own fears and inadequacies. If you fail at this one thing, they face huge struggles emotionally that they may or may not survive.

In healthy relationships communication is clear, each person takes care of themselves and then reaches out to empower the other. Each person is accountable for their choices. There's no pressure to fit a mold or to pull out some nails and martyr up.

I've known this for years. Taught it. I'm living it now and fully comprehending it. It is wonderful and liberating. Flying not falling. Truly flying, not just riding a draft.

You can tell someone a thousand times they are beautiful or incredible and they cannot grasp it until the day they realize it for themselves. You cannot make them realize it. You can ask them the right questions so they take a good look into themselves. You can hope that when they take that look they notice the mirror they've been using for years is warped. You can hope they finally throw it out, with it all the baggage they've carried for too long. It can go in a moment and all the stick feelings with it- if you choose to be brave.

Me?

I am an actor. I am an entertainer. I am a storyteller I am a writer. I work with words. Some weeks I may be eight to ten different people. I might pull off the role of cooking at a Mexican restaurant, I might be a mascot, might teach you to throw axes or guide you through a meditation. I might be reviewing your performance. I might be on a stage or talking down someone overwhelmed by panic. I keep learning new skills, there will always be new roles. Underneath it all, I am myself. I value the person I am. I value what I do.  The best way I can honor the people I love is by putting myself first; at my strongest I can be a healthy part of their support. At my weakest burdened by prioritizing the agendas of others, I could barely find the time to work on my goals and restlessness distracted me. My health suffered. I value my friends for who they are. 

What words are in your head, pacing back and forth? Who put them there? Why might they have done that? Who do the words serve?

If the words are truly empowering, there is no weight to the words. If the words were offered and you choose to keep them because they free you, strengthen you, and put you first: treasure that person or people! Those are your real supports. Its only taken me 39 years to really figure this all out. If not, realize you do not have to choose to allow that person's words in your head anymore.

I am working toward my goals and dreams. I found them. Its amazing how they suddenly exist when you take care of yourself. It feels wonderful. Problems get solved. You'd think there would be a lot of emotional rubble to clean up, but it vanishes as the sun inside you rises.

I hope to see the sun in you rise as well. I hope you choose to respect the people you love. The choice is yours. Be kind to each other, consider your words and intentions before you pour them into someone else's head. And be kind to those who with good intentions might have questioned your path, help them find their way back to themselves and their value. Most likely someone shook them off their path and they've followed through by passing on the cultural what is best for you. 

It Doesn't Have To Be Hard

I storytell while patrons at events paint on me. I have spent ten years in the streets entertaining with the goal of transitioning onto stage.
I have talked to many other entertainers and entertainment directors. We've paced around the problem of "how to go from small and intensely focused to large and inclusive of a big audience."
I mentally beat my head on the figurative wall. I kicked that wall. I punched that wall. It didn't move or change. I sat against it full of melancholy. I walked away, focusing on other challenges and hoping the wall would fall on its own.

After years of introspection and frustration I returned to the problem. Stage times on a 360 degree stage loomed ahead. I decided to start where I was, then problem solve necessary changes. Not approaching the wall from an entertainment standpoint, just as another challenge to surmount.

The past few years have been full of challenges from survival, paying bills, wrestling with inner demons, developing other skills to weave a metaphorical safety net for myself. Walls may be insurmountable, challenges are something to overcome.

It Doesn't Have to be Hard. Friends asked good questions about how to engage the whole audience, to shift from a large group painting to an individual. This one detail was the springboard. The show shifted and the wall was gone as it had only existed in my head.

Major changes come with perception shifts. Life doesn't have to be approached as if it is a punishment or purgatory. You choose how you live it, perceive it and you can choose to change it.

Are you choosing to make it more difficult or unpleasant than it needs to be? Do you excuse unhealthy behaviors in those around you while they distract you from attending to your own needs?
Why choose to keep choosing to allow someone to hurt you, especially when the hurt has minimal impact on them: except perhaps the gratitude that you allow your time, energy, and focus on being devoted to their misery rather than on taking care of yourself?

It doesn't have to be hard. My friend Coop said these words to me this weekend as we talked about recent changes in my life. A lot of my blogs this spring have dealt with emotional issues; as I walked around rather than addressed the crucial issue of attending to my own needs and wants. I had to let go of the perception I was responsible for someone else. Each of us IS responsible for ourselves.

In any relationship, whether it is with yourself or someone who brings a light into your eyes, it doesn't have to be hard
It is not a battle. It should not feel like a Herculean Task.
It should be easy, communication should be a two way street, responsibilities and challenges shared. Instead of judgement and criticism, problem solving and empathy.
Years ago another friend, Cale taught me expectations and cautions to watch for in healthy and unhealthy relationships. I look up to my friends, when they teach me something important I do my best to honor the lesson. This spring I watched red flag after red flag go up, unhealthy were the signs on my emotional relationship roadmap. I tried to address issues but found somehow doing so was the subtle song heralding a parting of ways. I did not realize how gone I was until I was gone. Suddenly the tension, pressure, negativity, and constant sound in my head stopped. It was like stepping out of a hurricane into a peaceful forest clearing. The air was clear, my shoulders loose, and my smile came back.

I was asked "Do you have to keep making these choices- or can you choose to make healthier ones?"

It was the best question. I encourage you, look at your life: where you feel most stressed and frustrated would you take a moment and ask this question of yourself?
Remember, it does not have to be hard. It can be full of gentle, sweet, accepting kindness. No excuses, why not choose to heal and grow? It is as easy as letting go of what was never really yours to carry.

It Comes Down To You

    Life goes on like a river over rocks in a small stream. Moments pass like water.
Over time you have to look at that river within you, when you hear the concern in friends voices and see it in their expressions.
    I spend so much time in that river shifting rocks to clear the water, sometimes I get distracted by the muddy water whirling away across the patches of algae. I know inside I'm healing and growing. I am becoming more aware of myself and what I need and want. I have learned that I truly have value. We all have value. Sometimes it can be easy to see our value from a warped perspective that makes something amazing look as unappealing as flotsam.
    Then we shift a rock, a big one. We do this with the love of our friends. The rock groans and the waters darken. In the murk when all seems clouded, clarity hits like a branch riding the water. You see yourself as others see you. You hear finally, how they perceive you. The flotsam becomes gold without magic or sleight of hand, because it always was gold underneath.
    I reached a point where I had to reevaluate where I was and where I was going, how I saw myself. I had to accept and let go of perceived responsibility over another person's well-being. We are each responsible for ourselves. We are responsible for being honest with ourselves and attending to our own needs before anyone else's needs or wants.
    In relationships, we build boats, bridges, and shape new paths for the water to travel. Even with love, you have to look at reality: how you treat each other, the words you use, the connection strength and whether it is healthy for all involved.
When you love someone you have to respect their choices, you have to allow them to express their feelings without criticism. Communication is important or you build your ship to wreck in rough waters. There is a give and a receive.
This is all especially true of the relationship we have with ourselves.
    Do you choose to ignore your needs? Do you justify and rationalize unhealthy patterns? The best option is to attend to yourself so you can effectively be there for others and enjoy the scenery around you.Are you feeling self destructive, self defeating, negative or passive? Why? What do you need to choose to change to release this barrier?

    Negative is not the same as depressed. Depression is an emotional and cognitive state say a block in the flow or ice on the water while negativity is an acid poured into your river that may damage the fragile ecosystem and leave you staring at scarred muddy banks and rust colored water. That IS depressing. 

    When you become aware of blocks you've chosen to allow you can release them.
Need versus want. Address needs and you may find the wants are addressed in tandem. Skip the needs and go for the wants and come up empty handed, covered in mud feeling worse.

    Several years ago I had to step back. To say I want to be the Painted Lady, she is an important part of me but I need my needs met to live. I communicated. Several events I had been at for years loyally, out of want, bluntly communicated in a manner that attempted to make me feel invalid. It knocked me back emotionally. I am resilient. I followed my river. I grew. Other events were supportive and the healing took me around the country.

I'm back. 

    I put my badge on my painted hat "Scarborough Faire 2016." I was excited and wondering what it would feel like the next morning. The cannon roared and the season began. Patrons and crafters, teary eyed, found me. Their love radiated, their faces and eyes broadcast how much they value this character I become. Part of me had been critical of the fact I work with words and not physical props. It is tremendously difficult to reach a level of high regard with words, far easier to comprehend the skill of sleight of hand immediately than it is to see the effect of subtle words in a fantastic story upon the heart. Until you go away and come back. 

    It rained. It was cold. I was caught up in the sudden flood of water and love into my river. What had been a trickle for several years straightened out and returned to what it should have always been. I had to be brave enough to open my heart. My heart goes out to the patrons at the events I have gone from, that perhaps one day in another venue or as a handwriting analyst I will find my way back to offer them up the unconditional nurturing that is a part of who I am. I hope we get our moment to reconnect and I hope you know I love and miss you. I hope you are still laughing and living!

    My mentor looked at me recently, she had observed my interactions with patrons, peers and friends for several months. She told me that I lead from behind and that I use my strength to bring those I touch with me as I rise. That I take time to offer tools and support that the people I meet need so they may choose to go higher and farther.

    She is right. It is humbling and empowering. I have to take care of me, because folks, hold on tight. I promise, even when it is hard; if you listen, if you choose, we all rise together. Instead of being a lone climber on a stark mountain we become part of a team with a safety net, able to appreciate views and have needs met rather than living in negativity and fear of falling.

    Who is in your net? Is your safety net strong or is it unreliable, is it frayed?
It is your choice. Choose well. Choose how how perceive yourself and choose how you would prefer to be treated. Life is change. No river flows stuck in one place.

What Matters Most

Days rush past like a boat caught in a strong current. Time seems to race itself, bringing sunsets before anticipated. How could days slip by so swiftly, distracting us with details.
Cactus are starting to flower, the beauty of a vivid flower rainbow on desert hillsides. Golden blooms on Palo Verde trees turn a red, brown and green landscape into a golden soft world one could slip away into full of whimsy and light.
What have I accomplished today becomes who have I enjoyed time with? How many moments spent with friends as we grow, heal, laugh, play and share each other's struggles. Of only we could see ourselves with the eyes of our loved one's hearts, how different we would see ourselves. All the little details which warp and look in our minds and hearts would shrink back down and vanish in one long concentrated look.
We keep chasing sunsets, visiting various parks and trails to compare sunset landscapes and spend time with various friends. Who today? Where today? Why not today?
Plans to be made, tasks to be done before heading out to my next gigs, and time to live and enjoy just being.
Each day has a to do list, each day should also have a time to live list- without time to love. It is important to appreciate what you love whether it's sunsets or stand up comedy; swimming or reading our health and mood suffer when we are under negative stress and they suffer even worse when we don't balance the negative with positive.
The desert blooms, Spring wears her loveliest dress and amidst busy days we try take the time to appreciate her before she races into Summer.
May you notice the nuances of beauty around you, the artworks, statues, flowers and people you meet! May they appreciate you as well!

Immersed In Sunset

I am on a plane, headed west. The sun started setting as we climbed above the clouds. Listening to relaxing sounds I watched the warm peach, pink and gold tones fill my window. Soothed, my eyes closed. A half an hour later, I was surprised to notice the clouds colors were just as strong. I began to watch, taking breaks to let emotions go, to see them glide like little weeks through the window next to me and into that breathtakingly vast beauty. I thought of friends, letting go of all the frustrations from what I can't change in their lives. I took time to think of their gifts: shared memories, moments, and wisdom. Time passed slowly as it does in the sky.

In my meditation I stood on the wing of the plane, watching the dark little birds gracefully vanish from my heart into the light. I felt the coolness of the rose and gold tinted clouds. The wind went through me, cooling and refreshing.

I did not look back. I looked forward. I remembered how far I have come. The scars I have earned are badges of bravery, foolishness, pride and fear. I acknowledged them. I let them go as well, unravelling like a ribbon back into the darkness, eventually tumbling away.

The sunset lasted over two full hours. Golden, pink, vibrant and full of beauty. I was amazed how few looked out and saw. Most people were wrapped up in phones, laptops, tablets or books. It was like being alone on an island in the sky.

I shed silent tears when emotions came strong. I let them be, just be. Like letting an agitated cat run until it tires and you can calm it. I focused on them. The positive, the negative I just felt for a while. They grew faint, and after I acknowledged them and heeded their communication I shared memories with them that gave them reason to calm. Like a child in a fairy tale singing a feisty Dragon to sleep. Quietly, discretely I tended my heart. The plane was full of people, focused on their worlds while I appreciated the gift sunset was and worked on my inner world.

They say mastering your mind is the hardest task. I disagree. I think for some handling the heart and irrational feelings is far more challenging. Others struggle with being in tune with their spirit, discomforted by the enigmatic, powerful aspect that motivates us to see beyond our own existence: to be aware and consider the wellbeing of others as well as our environment and our connection to it.

Two and a half hours, periwinkle has joined the sunset circle, confident yet shyly hiding the terrain below. Music, binaural tones, nature calls blended together with the sunset colors. My last focus: on everyone below. To be grateful for you, for how far you have come with the burdens you have chosen to carry, to send out the hope and prayer that you have what you need, that you have laughter, friendship and health. I sent up prayers that whatever you all believe, that you all treat each other as human and worthy of respect and compassion.

The next time you are caught enraptured by an incredible moment, I entreat you to live it fully. Appreciate it. Let what is retune you, and return you to yourself.

The pink is almost gone, sky mostly blue grey now. Three hour sunset. What a sight! The plane is slowly descending, shortly we will be on the ground. I will be able to curl up at home tonight, content with my significant other. I will be able to hear my cat do his squeaky purr and wrestle with him. I will hear Gracie make her little night noises. I will hear the coyotes at night, the quail, doves, and myriad of other birds that come to visit Bruce and eat the seeds he offers them in the morning. Tomorrow I will see and hear friends. I live in today, not yesterday. I'm excited about tomorrow but today- today is always when I am! What are you looking forward to? What makes you smile now? Do you have goals or accomplishments to energize you?

Unexpectedly, I found the second I missed New Years. That second was a sunset that lingered for three hours.  Happy New Years everyone! May your year from here forward be full of unexpectedly amazing moments. May you appreciate and share each one.

Who Feeds Your Monsters?

There is a Native American parable about two wolves, asking which wolf is stronger. Which is stronger, fear or courage? The one you feed.

Our minds are virtual worlds we dwell within. On the outside there may be little or no sign of what is really going on in that inner world. There can be great beauty, serenity and healthy forests as well as vibrant gardens. There can be tome after tome of experience and knowledge that we've gathered. Our emotions dwell as ephemeral creatures there. Pure, incredible and each completely different. Elation moves like a feather on a gentle breeze becoming sometimes a leaping deer excited by the freedom to run or a pack of coyotes excited by the anticipation of a tasty meal. Not everything is tranquil. There are places it is better not to tread without the right gear.

There can be scars leaving vast deserts, dangerous shale cliffs that look impressive but may slide us back into scar country. There are monsters as well, darker emotions and thoughts that stalk beneath the sand and water of day to day waiting for the right moment to lash out and reopen wounds we've worked to heal. These monsters in your head are disheartening and exhausting to face. You do your best not to feed them, you build trust with others to let the light in, to weaken their influence through forgiveness, compassion, and love.

You do your best to be aware of them without triggering them, handling them like an old crate of dynamite which has come to life. Part of you feels shame that you can't simply get rid of the damn beasts. You think you've shooed them out, cried them out, fought them out, forgave them out but they spring back to life like a vampire in a B movie. You don't always know how they got there, you can't undo or unlive the scarring that drew them in to feed. You didn't know you were feeding them, until you got older and wiser.

You may have stopped feeding them.

Then they come back. Who is feeding the monsters in your head? It is important to be aware of who you allow in, who you allow to influence your heart, your mind and your body.

Often, without realizing it, people feed the monsters in each other's heads. Some people become living caricatures of their inner inner demons losing themselves rather than fighting. Others disconnect in various ways to maintain stability in their uncertain inner world.

Do your friends and loved ones communicate with you out of love? Do they honor you? What motivates the friendship you have, is it healthy or destructive? Is it real? Do they feed your monsters? Do they even know you well enough to know what you face? Do you know their monsters, do you help them resist and neutralize them or do you feed them?

Which wolf is stronger? The one you feed. The one that our perception of circumstances and the influence of verbal and nonverbal communication combine to feed.

Real, healthy friendships help us face these thoughts and feelings with compassion rather than recriminations or negativity. Believe me, we know how frustrating and disheartening it is to have them rear their heads. It's worse than peeing your pants as a small child in front of a group of people. Humiliation only feeds the monsters. If you want to help, to be a strong, healthy friend, be honest and aware. Be aware of body language, words, and of triggers. The most amazing thing you can do, feed our strengths, feed the thoughts and feelings that combat the monsters. Feed our love, self esteem, self worth, our trust. Affirm what is or what we can heal and grow into being.

The worst thing someone you trust can do is use your monsters for their own agenda or be insensitive to our struggles. Imagine being injured while the people you love and trust do not seem to notice. How would you feel?

Today, consider your friendships, consider the quality of relationship you have with those around you.

Are you feeding their monsters, are you manipulating them into a place where old behavior and thought patterns reemerge wreaking harm?

Are you feeding their inner hero and guardian? Are you planting seeds for a beautiful, healthy person tomorrow? There is nothing as powerful as a truly caring friend in that inner world.

Many people struggle with their monsters  inside without ever giving a word to those around them when they need support. They fight and feed, get exhausted then just feed the monsters in a spiral of self destructive judgements. Be aware, be attentive, and be forgiving, take the time- real friends are worth it.

Today, I ask, who feeds the monsters in your head? Communicate. Express how you feel and what you perceive. If you don't, your friends may not realize they fuel an inner hell. The hard part is, you care for friends and family but they may wound you deeper than anyone else because you open up to them, they may not even be aware of the damage they do- so caught up in their own day to day inner worlds.

Remember:

You are beautiful. You are strong. The past is past. You won before, you can again. Mistakes are accidents we can learn from. You CAN pick who you allow into your inner world, choose wisely.

Focus on how far you've come. Plan actions to heal you, reach out and do what brings a smile back. Even if it starts out weak and tentative. Find something to laugh about. Come up with your own inner mantra, words and images you can use to pick what your emotions feed. Forgive yourself. Get outside your head.