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Image  —  Posted: September 25, 2016 in Uncategorized
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Muslim’s aren’t the problem. People whose hearts are soiled, minds are corrupt and ideals are non-existent hurt, maim and kill. And they come in all looks, sizes and colors! Priests—under the view of generalization are all pedophiles, subsequently all police are racist killers, and all men are domestic abusers and rapists. Of course not!! Stop the hate. Stop lumping everyone into one pile! There are sick individuals out there. They do not represent the whole. I’m going to keep saying it until people start to see the light. We need to protect each other…all of us. Our neighbors have as much to lose as we do. Together we are strong. Divided we will fall. Peace

Hate Choice

Posted: September 12, 2016 in Uncategorized
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Hate is poison

It seeps into your happy place and trashes it

Blocks creativity

Causes obsession

Curtails objectivity

Shortens relationships

Kills who you are

What you are

Who you were meant to be

 

Love ceases to exist

Trust dies

Confidence wanes

Strength becomes pain

Everyone is out to get you

Lies are truth

Distance

Solitude

Death

I get angry. I lash out. I make it worse. Who benefits? Certainly not my peace of mind. Nor did I make the target of my explosions, day. So why didn’t I just let it go? What is “it”? You ask? Well, that’s good solid question. Too bad I don’t have a resounding reasonable answer. If I knew what “It” was, I would have just sat myself down and intoxicated my mind with soothing and uplifting words. Rarely when I get angry do I know the source of the heat or who lit the fire, although in reality if I’m angry about what someone did, or said, the true source always lies inside me. This makes thrashing the culprit a bit more difficult to find and then deal with. For a long time, taking it out on the closest person to me may have been the wrong decision in the long run, but it was something I was taught to do. And at times when I let “it” go for too long, the explosion was so immense it sucked in those who could only wobble like weebles wondering “What the hell just happened?”.

And then one day I decided that is not how I wanted to live. I didn’t want other people’s beliefs or lives to influence my own behavior, moods and most importantly, happiness. My parents’ marriage was nothing like mine, and yet, I punished my husband for all the wrong doings of my father. I refused to show any weaknesses that I was brainwashed to believe that love caused. Thus, out of a chaotic childhood, my sharp tongue and explosive temper was forged.

It took just one day to decide? You ask. Yes. The day I completely flipped out on my young kids and at ten o’ clock at night, when they were supposed to be calm and going to sleep. I’d always prided myself on protecting my kids from the caustic crazy world and here I was going on about their unkempt room. I brought crazy and caustic into their home; a place they were supposed to feel safe and comfortable.

No other people could have made me take an emotional step back. It was only when I saw my damage reflected back at me on the sweet faces of my babies that I realized I had to fix what was broken inside me. I cried. I asked for forgiveness. They are my saviors.

Again what was “it’? There were too many incidents from my past that I could acknowledge and yet there’d be no illuminating affect. I could talk about every one of my battles and I would be no less the warrior. In fact, bringing those battles into the present irrationally justified my aggressive behavior….

So I took steps to try and let everything go and keep the past firmly behind me where it belonged. Not an easy task. I always heard about this peace you feel when you finally achieve full forward momentum, but never felt it. The best I could do was lock myself away when I felt threatened or vulnerable knowing that a misplaced word or look would set me off.

And then this happened.

One winter afternoon, after a pretty snow storm, while driving my AWD SUV , my car slid like ice on ice. I panicked, but tried gingerly stepping on the break. Nothing. I wiggled the steering wheel. Nothing. I was going to T-bone a parked green, two door sedan and there was nothing I could do. About, five feet from the collision I stopped thinking and a securing calm (a feeling of pure instinct and trust) overcame my senses. I took my hands off the wheel and lay my palms on my lap and at the same time, took my foot away from the pedals and waited.

About a foot away, my car turned at a ninety-degree angle, to the right and just as it cleared the front of the car, made another and sharp turn and hit a wall of packed snow just inches behind the green car’s bumper.

I finally experienced what all those books and spiritual lecturers preached. I simply stopped fighting what I could not change and just let go.

I’m still practicing letting go and though it’s easier when I’m not being challenged, it’s becoming less difficult when I am conflicted. I’ve taken many steps since my first and I know there are many more in my future. I am okay with that. It simply is.

Some times I step away from myself to become a quiet observer

Of actions that haunt and thrill

I question and then accept

because in that moment of clarity

I’m nothing and everything all at once

like the first breath of a child

a new beginning to move on from

 

No need to apologize… I can work this out myself.

Your words simply touched that tender part of me

Hurt long before you arrived

A little demon running through my mind playing hide and seek

Until it hears the triggering words inviting it to lash out

To wreak havoc on my insecurities

Flail about to defend that which I cannot see

Because it’s not about you

It’s always about me

 

Human nature dictates questioning everything and then finding or making up a reason to ease our vulnerable minds. We do this in order to stop the repeat of a bad event or have a great experience happen again.  Twelve years after being diagnosed with breast cancer, the fear has yet to be completely silenced. When I hear of someone dying from the same illness, my first response is to find out what they did wrong. They had to have missed appointments or refused treatments… right? I mean, why did I survive? Worse is when I hear stories of it returning ten years later. Again, I go through a process of questioning everything, recalling everything I had done, asking my oncologist questions about percentages and statistics just to soothe the fright that will never go away. Fortunately, I have a lot of distractions to keep from obsessing which keeps my sanity walking the line at all times.

During my fight with my body to live, my mental health went into overdrive. I did what I normally do when faced with a challenge, that if bested, I felt would destroy me. I insured my emotional armor had no holes and my shield of logic was shining before I stepped forward into the fray. The walls I’d put up between me and the world came crashing down. I couldn’t survive if they remained in place. I hated it. I’d always kept a distance between everyone and my heart, except my kids. Now I’d be revealed and exposed for all to swoop in and take control of what I’d spent years, protecting all on my own.

Faith, thou art no friend of mine. I believed in what I could control. Delusional? Quite. This sickness threatened to rip me away from the people I vowed to keep safe from the rest of the world. And it might win. When people told me to have faith in God, I laughed. Never the one to accept putting my life into anyone else’s hands. Even the divine. That’s when I learned the acts of control did not exist. Nature cannot be controlled, though a lot of ignorant people think it can be and somehow convince others of the same. You’re wrong.

Hope? Well, with the unknown there is always hope. Eventually your wishes will be answered and not in the way you wanted or expected. Nature definitely has a great sense of humor and a nasty back handed bitch slap. In my case, she forced me up and out into the world. Forced me to let people in and trust others, but also insured that I knew not everyone could be trusted. Her use of smoke and mirrors dazzled my brain pushing me to tears and laughter in an even ratio. I went a little overboard in the wanting to get out and let people in. Ms. Nature showed me people who acted like friends but were really antagonists and those who acted like the villain could be trusted. Crazy? I know. Hope is just a delay tactic to the inevitable. Eventually, everyone shows their truth. Just like I had to.

Here’s my logic to my cancer experience:

I was already dead. I never went out. I kept my kids close at all times. My heart could not be reached by anyone but my husband and even then, he had to work for the opportunity. I truly appreciate his love and patience. My life’s foundation had been built on fear. The fear my husband would find someone better. That if I didn’t watch over my children 24/7 they would get hurt and I would have to kill whoever allowed that. I saw predators lurking in every corner of this world waiting for me to drop my guard.

My children were seven, five and three when the cancer bomb dropped right on my head. The first diagnosis did not come from a doctor. The bad news came from a medium. Yes. That’s right. My deceased mother, who I watched die from cancer, told me to go to the doctor. I listened like I always, mostly, did growing up under her guidance. My base-line mammography changed my world.

I must have done something wrong to be punished like that. To be forced to allow others to watch over my children while I recovered from a double mastectomy, sat in a chair for hours every other week while poison slowly dripped into my vein making me weak and feeling barely alive and then weeks of radiation that tore open parts of my skin. What the hell did I do? I think I asked my husband, at least, ten times a day if I would survive. When you’re stuck in bed, unable to move and barely able to think you do wonder why you’re still alive. And then my children would curl up next to me and I knew.

Cancer didn’t change me, but everything I had to do to win the battle did. I made the hard decisions. I gave up parts of myself in order to free my heart, my mind and my soul from the cage I kept them all locked in. It’s somewhat true that “what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger.” But it can also make you weaker if you let it.

I barely survived my childhood with a sense of self. I wasn’t abused, but both loved and hated in equal measures. Love was twisted by betrayal and abandonment and I remember the hurt more than the affection. Stories I learned later on were worse than what had been going on right in front of my eyes. I started putting together my armor at the age of thirteen with the complete loss of safety and comfort. So you can imagine how impenetrable it was when I got married at the age of twenty-five. My husband definitely saw more of me than I did for him to actually say “I do.” And mean it.

And he was right.

I’m still crazy protective but instead of suffocating my family inside armor too small for me alone, I taught them how to protect themselves in every which way possible. This includes showing them I’m human and confess that I make mistakes like everyone else.

So Hope and Faith are beautiful sentiments, but if life doesn’t go the way you want it to, think of it as an adventure and try the find the treasures in the junk.