Merry Christmas

I know I’ve been very good at cataloguing the grief during this Year of Loss.  Much to my surprise, Christmas has come anyway and so I’m going to list the GIFTS of 2017.

Angels.  I SAW the angels come down and carry my Warrior Father to Valhalla.  I SAW them all covered in the Shekinah glory of God.  Not everyone gets that experience.  Although it’s messed me up a little bit (psychologically), I am so So SO grateful.  For all of my words, I still believe in my heart of hearts that I am somehow exempt from grace because of my “sins.”  I finally realized God doesn’t reveal Himself like that to just *anyone*.

He really is close to the broken-hearted.

Cher.  What more needs to be said?

God really is close to the broken-hearted.

Friendship.  I became convinced the world was going to end when my Dad passed, especially after The Bank started running their game.  I’ve never felt like I had nowhere to turn and those were dark days, realizing it really is a cold, cruel world and no one actually cares about my situation, even the people who are being paid quite well to do so.  I didn’t know what to do without my best friend and confidant.

But then angels started to surround me and kept surrounding me until I lifted the heavy veil of grief and saw them.  I have solid friends today that I did not have when this year began.  I accept that nothing will ever replace what I had and, if I were honest with myself, I don’t want a replacement.  What I really want is to stop hurting.  My friends help with that Every. Single. Day.  

Just like my Dad would.

God really is close to the broken-hearted.

Kitties!  I guess I really AM a weird Cat Lady.  By September, the number of funerals I attended grew uncomfortably and my grip on Life was weakening.  I’ll never forget the stormy afternoon Gypsy appeared CRYING at my back door.  Eight days later, Equinox was born in my bedroom closet.  What more proof of life do I need? 

God really is close to the broken-hearted.

Mommy.  I got to hug my Mama in one of her favorite places (the Dollar Store!) and tell her how much I miss her.

God really is close to the broken-hearted.

Random Acts of Kindness.  I’ll never forget the afternoon I wandered into a local establishment, wanting a pizza after a difficult session at Verizon closing my Dad’s account and putting my phone in my name.  Rosa (now a friend) at Verizon was perfectly lovely, but emotionally, I was spent.  I went next door to get a pizza (pizza makes everything better, right?) and go home.  My eyes were leaking and the young man who rang me up asked me if I was all right.  I explained.  His eyes welled up, too, and, as he handed me my pizza, he said, “This in on the house.  I’m so sorry for your loss.”

I can’t tell you how many coffees and treats and cocktails and groceries and pretty little shiny things “strangers” have bestowed upon me.  I can complain pretty hard about Salem, Oregon, but it really showed me its best this year.  (Now if it would just start snowing!)

God really is close to the brokenhearted.

Steak Dinner.  The Knight treated me to a steak dinner from over 1,000 miles away.

God really is close to the broken-hearted.

Strength.  There ain’t no grit-builder like pulling the plug on your True Love.

2017, I don’t ever want to see you again.  You were so much worse than 2012 and 2013 put together.  However, you did teach me that I can survive ANYTHING, and that’s a gift for which I am very grateful. 

Merry Christmas, Life.  I’m going to give you another chance.

Two Steps Away

When my Mama died, my Dad and I were inundated with visits and meals and phone calls making sure we were eating and surviving. 

When my Father died, I expected the same. 

It didn’t happen.

In fact, when I returned to Oregon, people expected the same level of productivity out of me and got “offended” when I could not meet their expectations.  So it’s been a long hard year of not meeting expectations, in addition to everything else.

Life without my Dad is something I never wanted to experience.  I’ve spent the past six years constructing “safetys” for what I knew was coming.  When The Change came, every single one of those safetys failed.

And then the six other funerals and the cat died and the financial problems and the sexual assault and the “visit” from #3.

We all know I’m still SUPER PISSED over being replaced while in the hospital recovering from injuries sustained in a car accident.  I know I should not have been surprised -- this was an organization that expected its female volunteers to endure constant sexual harassment from a donor (you were worth $400 a quarter, ladies), but still…Is that how you treat people, community organization?  My only comfort in this situation is that you replaced me before I could tell you my Dad left you $10,000.  So there!

It may seem like I am complaining – and maybe I am – but my actual point in sharing the above is to set the stage for what can and did happen next.

I know in my cerebrum that I MUST let all of that stuff go and so I did.  I kept telling myself over and over to let it all go.  Each unanswered message or phone call reminded me that my time of being someone else’s priority had passed.  I should be grateful that people remember me at all.  I had a great 50 years that most people never experience.

Without any of the structures upon which I’d built my life, I was at a complete loss.  And totally on my own and me, myself, and I have been at odds for decades.

I always Always ALWAYS give 110% and so I put 110% into “letting go.” 

It wasn’t until the Travelling Preacher said, “I don’t know who I’m talking to right now, but one of you – and you don’t even know it – is two steps away from suicide through your careless behavior” and I fell out, realizing that was the path I was on. 

The path I’d been on for decades.  

My Mama raged at me for 34 years about my “careless behavior” and I never understood what she meant until that moment.

So now that the demons of “two steps away” and “self-destructive behavior” have both been cast out, I feel compelled to share what I’ve learned:

1. I most certainly do NOT want to go out that badly.  Yes, I miss my parents and the pain of no longer being a part of anything is almost more than I can bear, but I DO NOT WANT TO GO THAT BADLY.
2. I wonder how many other people are making their situations worse by compounding grief with additionally painful choices because everything hurts and that’s the “new normal”? 
3. At the risk of sounding totally harsh, The Truth is:  There will be times when every single thing in Life fails you.  I was spoiled that it took so long for me.  Everything you once held on to will be gone and the only person you will be able to count on is yourself.  I’m someone who’s never been able to count on herself and, well…that made the situation so much worse. 
4. Don’t do what I did.  I am damned lucky I saw The Truth before I (unconsciously) did something really careless.

I’m resting comfortably now, and looking forward to spending time with my favorite person this holiday season.

 

Gratitude

Today, The Preacher stopped me dead cold in my tracks when he said, “Be grateful for your depression.”.

I’m not talking about the quagmire of grief I’ve been drowning in all year; I’m talking about weight I’ve carried since I accepted the lie that I was an only child unloved by her Mother. 

There are gifts hidden at the core of our trials and most of us – myself included – understandably miss them as our vision is clouded by the mess. 

Reflecting on everything during this Year of Loss, of course I only see what’s missing.  Every time I reach for what was, I grab air.  Every time I try to steady myself, the rug slips out from under me.  I hear a lot of silence when I long for words.  I continue to stare at the closed doors, willing them to open. 

What in the hell do I have to be grateful about over a decades-long condition that almost took me out (more than once) through a long series of self-destructive choices?

And don’t get me started on the interpersonal problems. 

At the end of service, The Preacher brought a woman up who spoke of how grateful she was for the depression that kept her in bed, unable to reach two guns in a closet ten feet away. 

L I G H T B U L B

Her depression saved her life.

There IS always Always ALWAYS something to be grateful for, even in the midst of the most emotionally traumatizing, grossest, ugliest situation.

So I’m grateful.

I’m grateful for all of the things I hate.

I’m grateful for all of the things I hate about myself.

I’m grateful for all of the circumstances and situations that won’t change, no matter how much time I spend on my knees.

I’m grateful for all of the things I blame for finding myself at this time of life NOWHERE I ever, ever thought I would be. 

I’m grateful for all of the things that’ve broken my heart.

And I’m grateful for the silence.

Revelation

It’s the time of year when, traditionally, the veil between worlds becomes the thinnest. 

Before the spell of judgment gets cast by “Christians,” I invite you to (a) read this whole piece; and (b) engage in an offline conversation with me.  Didn’t Jesus’ death tear down the veil?

Naturally, the days are getting shorter and the nights are getting longer and, for many people, the increased hours of physical darkness leads to increased hours of psychological darkness.  Science tells us that people need Vitamin D from the sun for “proper functioning.”  Decreased amounts of Vitamin D leads to decreased “functioning.”

Psychology tells us that into every life some rain must fall and one must work through and resolve the “issues” for “proper functioning.”

Spirituality tells us that only LOVE comes from The Divine and everything else is a result of “darkness,” usually our own limited human perception.

I say all of the above must be mixed together and balanced:  A human being is a complex mixture of biology, psychology, and spirituality (even the atheists, but that’s for another post) and so all three components must be carefully mixed, monitored, and moderated for “proper functioning.”

Which leads me to my point:  How people – myself included – form deep attachments to tragic situations in an ineffectual attempt to move past them. 

For the rest of her life, the Mother who started M.A.D.D.’s daily experience will revolve around the tragedy of her son’s death.  Maybe that’s what she wants, who am I to say?

For five years, three months and 12 days my daily existence revolved around abuse and injustice.  Several people – including The Knight – told me to let it go but I just couldn’t.  I felt my name and reputation were at stake and I Could. Not. Abide. the taxpayer-funded character assassination.  I kept going when I thought of the Mothers I met on my journey who were coerced into bogus confessions and “relationships” by the threat of DHS intrusion into their children’s lives.

I’m not saying I’m noble; I’m describing the lengths the wounded human ego will go to feel better.  I didn’t move past the situation; I purposefully tied myself to it.

I made it through anyway (cue the unending mercy and grace of God, despite our human machinations), justice was served, and my Dad finally said he was proud of me.

And then he died three months later.

As sad as I am and as much as I miss my Dad, I absolutely do not want the rest of my daily life to revolve around my grief.  I’ve already done that for 20 years over the gang rape, the death of my son, the death of my Mother, my out-of-alignment career, and That Situation.  I most certainly do NOT want to spend the next 20 like that.  I want to move on into the next chapter, as selfish and self-absorbed as that sounds.

I’ve spent my entire life trying to make things better for other people, to the detriment of my own well-being.  I’m all for being a giver, but givers attract takers and my low self-esteem can’t comprehend that I have any value to receive anything.  There has to be a balance.

I was considering developing a “grief program” through my church when I realized I was just like that M.A.D.D. Mother:  I am frustrated by many things and creating a “Relief Committee” so others would not have the (unpleasant) experience I did would be tying myself to circumstances I REALLY don’t like, thus perpetuating them. 

Law of Attraction 101

My idea to do something “to help others” was really, truly a way to prolong my own frustration:  Something borne out of my frustration will always be tied to my frustration, and, well…you do the math.

Did I mention I’m inherently self-destructive?

So, for the next few days, when the veil is thinnest and our inner demons come out to play, let’s remember they’re playing and not take it all so seriously.  Our true nature is one of light and love and the darkness is always Always ALWAYS only temporary…if we don’t tie ourselves to it in a misguided attempt to recover what we feel we’ve “lost.” 

The Truth is there IS no loss…only varying perceptions of abundance.

Harvest Moon

It’s all about perspective, isn’t it?

Less than two weeks after I spent five years, three months, and 12 days clearing my name, the five-alarm fire in my Dad’s apartment complex that began his journey home occurred.

Those five years, three months, and 12 days included a lot of false accusations, false witness, bullying, threatening, violence, property damage, and all of the other stuff that comes with putting oneself at the business end of a violent alcoholic, a dirty cop, and a spurned attorney. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I stood on the courthouse steps, finally vindicated, and called my Dad. 

“Hi Daddy.”

“Hi Baby.”

“Are you sitting down?”

“I’m laying down.”

“I am no longer a double felon.”

Silence

“I’m impressed.  When this whole thing started, I thought there was no way in hell you would ever get out from under all that shit.  But you did.  You did it Baby, and I’m proud of you.  Now go have champagne!”.

Twelve days later, my Dad was evacuated from the balcony of his apartment building.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When I get down on myself for mishandling everything, I remember the perspective that I’d already been through hell and then my Beloved Father passed away.

I don’t want pity or sympathy but I do want others to not take my comportment personally.  I KNOW I’m hard to get along with; I live with it.  I KNOW The Enemy is within because, again, I live with it.  I KNOW I seem heartless when I show no reaction to news of others’ misfortune; however, the reality is that I feel others’ pain so profoundly it immobilizes me.  I KNOW I keep others at a distance; however, the reality is that I have not fully recovered from the brutality of the past.

My point is that it’s not “just” because my Dad passed away that I’m wiped out; it’s the cumulative effect of at least four major life changing events – all of which were traumatic – occurring one right after the other.

Yes, I know most other people have it much worse than I do – especially today – but that’s not my point.  My point is that trauma is trauma and why can’t we exercise just a little bit more patience and compassion with each other rather than being so quick to take offense because someone doesn’t react to us the way we want them to.

I’m speaking to myself as much as I’m speaking to anyone else with this.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Traditionally, the Harvest Moon offers the best light for night-time harvesting.  I have sown seeds of endurance and perseverance with my blood, sweat, tears, and snot all year.  I look forward to being blessed by my harvest, no matter what form it takes.

As God is my witness.

Eclipse Bliss

A total eclipse of the sun occurred at approximately 10:20 a.m. PST on August 21, 2017.  I watched the whole thing from my backyard. 

I don’t have the words to describe what it was like to take off my glasses and look at the entire moon blocking out the entire sun.

I came into the experience with enormous amounts of grief and sadness and loss and panic and anger and disappointment and disgust that I was raging against accepting as my “new normal.”

What I saw and experienced and felt and understood when I took off the eclipse glasses and looked at the entire moon in front of the entire sun…I want to live in those 2 minutes and 40 seconds forever and I PITY THE FOOL who tries to push me out of Eclipse Bliss.

Clarity

Deliverance

Divine love

I felt like the entire atmosphere was hugging me.

I saw that the entire moon was in front of the entire sun and there was still light.  Even the pictures from space show this. 

What I Iearned was that no matter how dark it gets – no matter how dark the emotions or the events – the light ALWAYS shines through.  Always always always always. 

For as much as I run my mouth about “believing,” in my heart of hearts I am Doubting Thomas.  I truly believe I am somehow exempt from Divine love and protection and guidance. I always want proof. Well...I got it!

I will never again tell myself that lie.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

There’s an image of a person standing on a cliff in front of the eclipse that’s getting a lot of attention.  While I can appreciate the logistics and technical skill involved in the shot, I am struck by its profound arrogance.  Only a true narcissist would put him- or herself in front of a rare natural wonder...and then brag about it.

Really, people:  Go watch the eclipse again and gain some perspective (and maturity), for heaven’s sake. 

It’s the same arrogance that decided I didn’t “care” about my Father or that I “didn’t really need” help after I came back from California or that I “don’t need” the provisions of The Cluvane Trust.  It’s not Arrogance’s decision to make and those decisions about me which profoundly affect me made by people who don’t know me have driven me insane.

Which leads me to the real issue:  Jealousy.  Plain, old fashioned jealousy.  So trite and so cliché.  My Father always said that was my problem:  I was on the receiving end of other people’s blind green rage.  I never understood what he meant until these months since he passed. 

If I had a dime for every random, overweight, personality-disordered person who’s told me I’m “angry,” I wouldn’t need my trust fund, lol.  I learned about projection 32 years ago in my first psychology class.  Those projections have created anger in me that wasn’t there in the first place; true.  But the start of it?  It’s very clear who the truly enraged person is.

So: 

• Here’s to the fragile ego who got upset I didn’t e-mail from the hospital;
• Here’s to all of the other fragile egos who’ve jacked me up because they could not accept “No” as an answer;
• Here’s to all of the hurt little girls with Daddy issues who’ve unnecessarily made my life so much more difficult;
• Here’s to the budding psychologist who wanted to show off at the expense of our friendship; and,
• Here’s to all the people who turned their backs during the hardest time of my life.

Ya’ll never knew me. 

And yet…I took all of the hurt and the rage and the anger you projected onto me with me to The Eclipse.  All of it was transformed and I have been healed of YOUR issues.

After all of the ill-fitting outfits others threw on me were removed, guess what was left?

Joy

Happiness

Radiance

Inspiration

Confidence

Truth

Beauty

Love

I am GRATEFUL I lived through all of the hardships since my Dad passed away.  Those 2 minutes and 40 seconds on Monday made it all worth it.

Daddy

My Beloved Father passed away six months ago today at 2:13 p.m.

I’ve been blessed to thrive through many challenges, but this one…I’d always imagined this change would take away all my will and motivation because…who doesn’t know by now that my Dad was my lifeline?

But…I’m HAPPY to report that I made it.  

With minimal damage, which I know surprises the shit out of most. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Others can’t believe I made it through the attack in my classroom or my son’s death or ten years studying the criminally insane (I submit that still affects me, but let’s not get into that) or watching my Mama die for 6.5 years or being accused of two felonies and misuse of 911 or jail time or #3 (although there was a time when I thought that situation would kill me) but all that PUT TOGETHER (Plus graduate school.  Twice.) is NOTHING compared to the experience of the last six months. 

*I* can’t believe I made it through this one. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I suppose I should be grateful for the battle with Goliath, which has given me focus and purpose, once I got over feeling intimidated (thank you, Knight, for your help with that).  I achieved victory in the conflict over my home (Remember when I said I wasn’t moving?) and I KNOW that is paving the way toward total triumph.  I imagine a year from now I will say the battle kept me from drowning in grief.

I suppose I should be grateful for the growth that will come from the interpersonal “challenges” of the past six months, but I’m still bitter. 

Yes, I admit it.

I AM grateful for those who stuck by me.  The person who got hit hardest by my grief moved closer.  My Father once said, “How could I ever explain you to anyone?” and well…it is a rare breed who can successfully manage my program, especially when it goes wild.

I AM grateful for those who reached out.  I am not a reacher outer by nature and there have been some days – especially early in the battle with Goliath – when it took all of my energy to breathe and feed the kitties.  Remember to connect with people?  Too much.

I AM grateful for all of the sympathetic ears as I try to go about my day and my eyes start leaking.  I can’t tell you how many “strangers” have bought me a pizza or paid for my gas or helped with the car or did me a solid because on more days than I care to admit I feel like a lost little girl.

I AM grateful I had the honor of watching my Dad pass away.  I say “pass away” because I was there and I saw and witnessed and experienced the whole thing and I SAW those angels come down and carry that Warrior back home and NO ONE will ever tell me God doesn’t exist. 

And…

Who on the entire West Coast doesn’t know that I AM GRATEFUL AS HELL for The Cher Experience?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I am very clear none of these beautiful, amazing Bucket List things would have happened had my Beloved Father not passed away six months ago today at 2:13 p.m.

L’Chaim!

Shirley Girl

Shirley.

It took two years and a diagnosis of brain cancer for me to realize you had a heart of gold.

Without complaint or instruction, you stepped into the Mama role when I so desperately needed it.  You were so much like my own Mama I believed she was speaking to me through you.

Especially when you started yelling. 

Especially when you started yelling at me to PAY ATTENTION:  Pay attention to what I was doing, where I was going, and what was going on. 

I WAS paying attention, Mama.  I thought I deserved it.

That’s what I thought I was supposed to learn from you:  That I deserve to be mistreated because I’m so hard to get along with.  People can’t help themselves and take a swing at me out of sheer frustration.  I thought I had to accept that as the Truth of Me.

Once you realized that, Shirley, you stopped yelling. 

You realized I wasn’t simply being stubborn or wanting attention; I was truly lost.  Truly lost in all of the lies than ran my life for far too long.

You saw that we had much more in common than anyone – including ourselves – realized.  You told me over and over and over again I didn’t deserve ANY bruises until I finally had the strength to stand up for myself.

You stood by me every step of the way, including that sham of a trial.  You were a Warrior and I was blessed to witness it firsthand when you began to yell about the injustice of it all and the bailiff threatened to put you in jail, too. 

I lived my whole life thinking my own Mama didn’t love me.  In that moment, Shirley Girl, I saw that she always did.

That’s what made you a Saint:  You did not care one iota what other people thought.  You followed God’s instruction without question, without fail, and without worry.  Your faith was the size of a mountain and we all bask in its shadow.

Rest in glory, Mama.  We are all the better for having known you.

Cher

My Beloved Father passed away four months and one day ago today.  I can’t begin to describe how my life has changed since that day.  Of course, there are the obvious changes.  But then there’s the growth in my Warrior Spirit as I unfearfully prepare to face Goliath (I won the battle, but the war is far from over).  There are the thoroughly unexpected changes in my personal life.  There are the changes in my perspective and my attitude and my outlook and everything else. 

My heart turned stone cold when my Dad’s did.

My interest in others withered during those two months of solitude after I returned from California.

My hope died when Sunshine did.

And then I got a Cher ticket.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As a child, I wanted three things:

1.    To be a writer.

2.    To go to Paris.

3.    To be Cher.

  

I’ve been writing in one way or the other since I was five.  The future my Dad left me is one in which I can write in the way I’ve always wanted (creatively). 

I had my fill of academic writing around 1994, after the publication of my first Statistics textbook.  The publisher pulled it after a year, as it was out-selling all of the other stats texts and the “more established” authors were upset.  “You’re so talented, we know you’ll be successful.  Just not here,” the publisher told me as it ended my five-year contract four years early.  How many times have I heard that??

But I digress.

I got to go to Paris in 2008.

And then…in my darkest moment, right when I accepted that my happiest days were behind me…a ticket to see Cher in concert appeared right before my very eyes.

I LIVED for The Sonny & Cher Comedy Hour on Sunday nights.  No matter how bad my Mama was raging, she always stopped for The Sonny & Cher Comedy Hour (she always stopped for Laugh-In, too…and Mork and Mindy) and we would laugh and sing and have a wonderful time.

By the time I was old enough to attend concerts, Cher wasn’t touring.  When she started touring again, I was in a different universe.  She announced her FINAL tour right when I swung out of the Two Felony Tango. 

That whole last 40 hours in the hospital, as I was watching my Dad die and praying for the strength to do the right thing and make the right decisions and GOD PLEASE HELP ME KEEP IT TOGETHER THIS IS MY DAD WE’RE TALKING ABOUT HERE AND MY ACTIONS ACTUALLY MATTER I kept hearing in the back of my mind:  “You make it through this; you’ll see Cher.  You make it through this; you’ll see Cher.” 

It was my Dad’s voice and so I kept going through hell. 

And then last Saturday night, I was in the same theater as someone I’ve admired since I was 2. 

It only took two shuttles, two plane rides, one near-miss, 13 hours of travel, and a missive from The Knight to Goliath.

In addition to everything else.

~ ~ ~ ~

Like I said, the battle with Goliath is far from over.  I see how naïve it was for me to think it would stand down after that swift kick to the nuts.  Now the beast is enraged and it’s coming at me and my house full force. 

I’m not scared. 

I saw Cher live in concert, something I gave up on a long time ago.  Now I feel like I can achieve anything.

It’s not “getting the stuff” (although the stuff is really cool) that’s making me feel empowered; it’s that Life really IS about living in the overflow.  Life didn’t abandon me.  I’m not cut loose, floating randomly in the Universe.  Yes, crap happens and Life isn’t easy but it isn’t crappy 100% of the time.  Even those last 40 hours in the hospital were not 100% pure torturous agony each and every nanosecond.

It’s in those still, small moments of non-crap that the seeds of blessing are planted.

In those still, small moments of reaching out to God when my Dad was dying, the seeds of my future blessings were planted. 

In those still, small moments of experiencing Bucket List #1 this past weekend I KNOW the seeds of my victory over Goliath were planted.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

My Dad’s solution to life’s troubles was jazz.  If troubles got tough, the solution was live jazz.  If troubles got really tough, the solution was a trip to NYC.

You know where I’m going next.