Archive for October, 2013

Just some words put together to make you smile.

Dear Me,

Life is like a bowl of delicious soup and disappointment is the fly that just dropped into it.  Solution? Spoon the critter out and move on or kindly ask for a replacement. Unfortunately that’s not how most people work. They stare at the fly and get angry. It’s not the fly’s fault. You think it wanted to land in your hot soup and burn to death? Maybe the chef swatted at it and clipped its body causing damage to its wings. It’s not the chef’s fault either. She was doing what came naturally. An intruder invaded her sterile sanctum  and had to be destroyed.

Or maybe the chef held all life in high regard and tried to catch it. Just at the moment of capture, a waiter slammed into her causing her hands to close harder than anticipated, incapacitating the poor fly causing it to fall into the same bowl of soup that was brought to you.

Strange analogy huh?

“Shit Happens” is a universal cliché that should be changed to Shit Eventually Happens. Not everything that occurs is your fault or someone else’s. In fact whatever has happened started long before you were faced with the wonderful or horrible climax.  Novels, like life, have a beginning middle and end. Nothing just happens. There needs to be a sequence of events steered by decisions based on logic, passion or fear. Unlike novels, we don’t know the ending. Would be great if we did, but that wouldn’t get us out of bed every morning hoping to make progress in our personal growth.

So basically stop frowning, getting angry and blaming luck or others for your misfortune or accomplishments. We are all works in progress living our lives moment by moment in order to transcend the hardships in order to feel peace. What’s peace?

Peace is the point you get in your perception of living where you and you alone hold the strings to your happiness. It’s difficult and there will be many experiences where you think you’ve failed, but in reality you learned something to help you on your journey.

Once you stop blaming the fly, the waiter or the chef and see it as a fly in a soup, life gets much easier.


Truly Yours


Posted: October 15, 2013 in Uncategorized

Like most people, I lived in a crazy house. Dysfunction ran rampant. Psychotic conflicts and events were flashing to and fro, but beneath it all, hiding in the shadows stalking me, my sister and brothers entities not belonging in our world.

Encounter one… of many.

One storming night, yes I said storming, because it was, my sister and eye witnessed an entity that was just as afraid of the weather as my brother. I’ll explain that. On nights such as those where wind whipped branches into siding and scraped windows and rain beat down so hard on the roof, that it sounded like thousands of angry fists, one brother would run into our room and sleep on the floor between our beds.

The unexplainable happened on such a night.

The harsh weather had me curled up in bed, covers snug around my neck my face burrowed into my pillow. My sister sleeping across the way offered some comfort.

I snuggled facing the wall when my sister shouted, “George get out of my bed.”

Rolling over, I saw “George” roll off her bed and continue under mine. I jumped out of bed, quite annoyed that he rolled under my bed scaring me half witless and ran over to the light switch turning it on, ready to yell at my brother.

I looked under my bed and no one was there. My sister and I stared at each other trying to make sense of what had just happened. I turned off the light, jumped back into bed and covered my head with my blankets.

Encounter two … of more.

I had a friend over, which in my house was a novelty. My mom didn’t like people in the house. I understand that now having the same sense of paranoia she did, but I digress.

Andrea and I were watching TV. I don’t remember what we were watching, maybe she does. I’ll have to ask her. Anyway we were sitting on the left side of the living-room where we could see the steps going up into the second floor where we, the children slept. Something caught the edge of my eye. I looked up the steps. Someone foggy, but definitely defined as a person’s outline, walked slowly up the steps. I looked at Andrea. She stared where I had and turned to me and said, “You didn’t just see that.” I don’t remember what happened next. I’ll have to ask her that.

Encounter three ….

Both me and my youngest brother John, while looking out our bedroom windows, on separate occasions, witnessed a man digging by the cherry tree in our backyard.

I’ve seen, from the front lines, the horrible battle being fought to stay alive while every cell in a loved one’s body is destroyed by medicine and illness. We, my sister and brothers, watched everyday for a year while my mother, a strong, independent woman, faded into a strong and independent woman stuck in a thin, withering, ravaged body.  We took the fight to the doctors treating her because we couldn’t stand against the truth.  In one year she died.

     Seven years later, at age thirty five, it was my turn. Only I didn’t know it. I felt fine. Normal. I had the energy to take care of my three little ones, ages three and a half years, six years and eight years old.  Busy is an understatement. But I still felt the tug, to poke the need to talk to my mother. Not like the usual urges caused by extreme feeling of loss. This was different. I’m going to try to describe it the best as i can.

      Not often and usually during a lull in the craziness, I heard my name  as if whispered from far away. I became more anxious each time I heard it. Felt it. I’d always dreamed of my mother but even they were different. Over a period of months the pokes, taps and whispers grew more urgent. I believed in mediums, people who could speak to those in the other realm, but never went to one. Ever. Never had the compulsion.  I called my sister and got the number to Jeffery Wands a well-known Medium on Long Island.

    I didn’t know what to expect.

      His office was small but comfortable and he was waiting for me when I showed up. I went right in. He looked at me with no expression on his face. The first thing he said is “The ring.” Caught me completely off guard. My first thought ran immediately to The Lord of the Rings. Then he said, “It’s been sitting there too long. And it hit me. (Informational tangent) After my mother passed, I took some of her jewelry to get fixed and gave them to my family. I kept a small simple gold band ring with a tiny stone. I wore it for a long time. It broke two times. The third time it broke, I left it on my nightstand planning on getting it fixed again. When I went to Jeffery Wands, the ring had been sitting on my nightstand for over a year.

     I cried. My mother had showed up. Immediately after that, he said, “Your mother wants you to go to the doctor and get checked out. Something about female issues.” He motioned with his hands, in circles over his chest and abdomen. She said I should do it as soon as possible. The first twinge of fear needled its way into my stomach. Jeffery Wands continued with, “No matter what you will go through, you will be okay. Just do what you are told to do. You will raise your kids.”

     I wasn’t soothed. He then went on about how mother was astonished about my lack of organization skills. The session ended and as soon as I got home, I called my doctor and he gave me a referral for my very first mammogram. I failed epically. I wasn’t allowed to leave the radiologist before being informed that I needed to see a specialist. I made the appointment that day.

     The breast surgeon examined me and was astonished that I had no symptoms, no lumps nothing to indicate I had breast cancer. But the x-ray on the wall spoke volumes against what he could see and feel. Next step was a fine needle aspiration biopsy which the doctor ordered for the very next morning.

       To say it was painful would be a gross understatement. I lay face down on a table, with my breasts in holes, while a machine shot needles into my right breast ripping tiny pieces of flesh from inside. The pain was so great, they had to stop the test early, but there was more than enough evidence that my life was indeed in danger.  

        I hated my body. It had betrayed me. My mind ceased to function. The world whipped around me, twisting my perception so tight that I didn’t know anything. And the news just kept getting worse. My right breast was fully invaded by cancer. I had tumors and it worked its way into my chest muscle and lymph nodes. By the time the doctor finished telling me my diagnosis I felt like I had gone one round with a boxer the size of a truck and I wished she’d finished the job.

I cried with my sister, tried to stay strong for my brothers and began planning my counter attack. I have a big family and some cousins are as close as siblings. The first part of my strategy was to remove the offending flesh and the other just for insurance. Once I recovered from that seven hour surgery, I prepared for phase two. One cousin helped me prepare for chemotherapy by shaving my head and my search for a wig (I barely wore it. I found bandanas to be more comfortable).My sister dragged me out of bed and out for walks recommitting my soul for life. For the next four months, every two weeks I was hooked up to a machine that poisoned every cell in my body, murdering all quickly dividing cells both healthy and malignant. The last phase: Radiation. Twenty eight days in a row. To say the least, hell hath rolled over me and I got up and dusted the ashes off.

Ten years later, I’m writing these memories with a flicker of re-living.

Thank you mommy for my life. For the gift to raise my children. I love you and miss you! Until we meet again.