Dancing in the Rain

IMG_4770.JPG

Words of wisdom from my son today. #TBT of our 2012 Christmas trip over Snoqualmie Pass, Washington. I remember that we had a horrible blizzard that week, and they had just re-opened the highway. Friends warned us about driving over; yet, when we got to the top of the pass, hardly anyone else was around, and it was just so beautiful everywhere we looked.

Hours before our drive, I had learned my brother had taken his own life. I felt like darkness was looming all around; yet, when we reached the mountain pass, I can still remember the warm glow of the light, as if he was telling us that he was okay – he was at peace. I wish I could have saved him from his darkness, but I will always remember the beauty of the light I saw that cold, December day, and I will always remind myself that when navigating through darkness, light will eventually start to appear.

In the meantime, I will always try to learn lessons from those darkest moments. The light will then be more rewarding once it arrives, and I will be able to share its incredible warmth with others journeying down the same path. I know it’s cliche, but I have always enjoyed life more by dancing in the rain.

Naked & Ashamed

Naked and ashamed

Even though, I started my blog a year ago, I have kept it very quiet from my friends and family; I believe sharing my deepest thoughts and creative side can be a very scary feeling. Making a category on my blog and posting some of my essays for original non-fiction writings is like walking into a stadium full of people and realizing I forgot to put clothes on.  First, there will be a quick hush among everyone.  Some will be frightened for me and others will be frightened by what they see.  Others will cheer for my bravery and others will cheer because it wasn’t them that foolishly exposed themselves in public. In a stadium, I may have the chance to turn around and run and pray no one recognized me (though social media would capture my hideous mistake for eternity and track me down to find out who I am, so they could torture me with the photos and videos until the dire end), but by putting my writing and art out in the universe for my family and friends to see, I risk them seeing a part of me that they do not like.

Last Spring, I shared with a professor that the part of growing older that I hate the most is that I wonder if the person someone is sharing with me is their true authentic self.  The professor chuckled and said authentic people are an illusion and that I need to quit setting my standards so high.  This put me on a quest of really wondering if the ones closest to me, at work and in private, were truly authentic.  I learned that a lot of the people I looked up to were not truly authentic, but I also found a great deal of people who were. However, in this quest, I remembered something my mom told me when I was a teenager.  I tended to be a very judgmental teenager and even broke up with a guy because he yelled “Damn” at me when we were on a scary carnival ride and he thought I was silly for being so scared.  My mom asked me if I was perfect and I laughed and said “far from it”. She quickly replied, “Then it was time I stopped judging others so harshly.”

Thinking back about this, I realize in my quest to find authentic relationships that I, myself, may not be completely authentic, and if I am ever going to be a true artist, then I need to own up to the fact that being a published author (other than my research studies) is my ultimate dream; a published author of a body of work that many others want to truly read. However, after I posted my dreams on my Facebook account, I literally became ill wondering if anyone was reading my non-fiction writing and if they were reading them, were they enjoying them or were they judging the life I used to live?  I spent the weekend frozen in time barely being able to do anything.  All I could picture was that stadium full of people staring at me and whispering to each other as I stood there and froze to death, naked and ashamed.

There’s nothing like a Monday morning to thaw me out.  I tend to wake up on Mondays and panic about what I did not get accomplished the week before. This morning, I woke up barely being able to move, I had wrenched my back somehow and was in so much pain that I could not sit up.  As I carefully applied icy hot, I thought about what I did to cause it.  That’s when I had my “aha” moment and remembered frantically running from the stadium, naked and ashamed. Yet, it was too late – when I shared my writing, I did it on the internet, so there was no covered back room to run to.  What happens now?

Next, I took some ibuprofen to help with the pain and made some hot tea and contemplated what the universe might have in store for such an idiot. Before I could think anymore, I retreated to my Tumblr.  That’s where I disappear when I want to see what everyone else is looking at.  I learned quickly that there were not any photos posted of me in the stadium that I had conjured in my mind; the worst that could happen is that someone does not approve.  But for most of my life I have been a people pleaser, so disapproval is like a knife in my back.

I also realized this morning that I do not like waking up in excruciating pain either, so I knew I was at a crossroads.  What now?  I thought about this and asked myself, “What would Bob Marley say?” Good question!  Bob Marley said “Life is one big road with lots of signs. So when you are riding through the ruts, don’t complicate your mind. Flee from hate, mischief and jealousy. Don’t bury your thoughts, put your vision to reality. Wake Up and Live!”

There’s no taking back what I shared this weekend unless I deleted my blog, but if I was honest with myself, I want to create, I want to write, I want to help others, I want to live!  At that moment, I started creating the above image on my computer; I have spent the last seven years struggling to find the light that is waiting to take me to the next part of my life.  Today, I finally can see a glimpse of that light hitting my face, and whether others like me or hate me, I am ready for my next chapter.  For better or worse – sink or swim – Look out world, here I come!

In my Father’s Image

fathers and sons

Recently, my son became very ill, and as the doctors asked me about our family health history, I found myself becoming angry again at my ex-husband.  The anger wasn’t because he deserted me and his children (though I find that seeping back in once in a while); the anger was due to how he left us. He made it impossible for me to ever find out if the symptoms my son is having could be related back to his family history; therefore, there is this big unknown part of my children’s history that I would like to access, so I can help them be healthy for themselves and for their future children.

I took this photo of my son and husband (at the time) right after my father’s funeral.  My husband said that my losing my father reminded him of how quickly time passes and the importance of cherishing every precious moment we have with our children. The portrait symbolized to me the relationship between a parent and their child and how important it is, as parents, to guide our children to the future that is waiting for them.  I never thought that my own husband would disregard the gift’s God has bestowed upon us.  I no longer try to understand what made my husband do the things he did, as it is out of my control and is time wasted. Yet, inexcusably I still witness daily the internal pain and damage he left behind. I always thought that maybe he was too damaged from his own childhood to ever be a parent, but three years after deserting his own children, he had another one.

It may seem cruel, but I sometimes view my ex as created in Hitler’s (interesting enough, he liked his employees to call him that) image because when our marriage became the darkest is when he could not handle his youngest son (in this photo) being different from other children.  I’ve mentioned in my blog before that my son has Asperger’s Syndrome, and my ex-husband had no patience or empathy for the symptoms that developed from my son’s diagnosis. I almost think that he kept having children until he could create the perfect specimen of himself.  My heart aches for his new child that he had with his new wife, and I pray for the innocent boy’s safety every day.

This photo has been hidden in the back of my closet for years in fear of it bringing back the pain of the past for my children. However, this week as I have been filling out medical forms for specialists for my beautiful, kind-hearted son, I looked back at this portrait and realize that it doesn’t have to represent the father that walked away, but it reminds me of the characteristics my son shares with his maternal grandfather that I sadly lost that Thanksgiving week in 2000. My son grew up not having the guidance of either a father or a grandfather, but I have kept my father’s image alive within my son, by sharing his stories, his morals, his ethics, his love, and so on.  As I look into my son’s eyes, the eyes that trust that I will find him the best care and answers this week, I see my father’s soul looking back at me.  My son may have been born from a man who has no soul, but that doesn’t mean that’s how my son’s story ends.

My son has a heart of gold and carries his grandfather Jim’s heart and soul with him everywhere (that is what I see in this portrait now), and as long as I bring him up with wonderful people surrounding him that also share those similar ethics, morals, and love, my child will take that into his future and it will continue to touch the ones fortunate enough to come into his life. I will never be convinced that blood defines a family, but instead family is defined by the incredible people who lift us up and encourage us to live each day being better than we were the day before.

Overcoming challenges makes life meaningful!

This is my daughter, Megz, when she was three.  She is a junior in college now, but still has that same strength and determination.  I have decided I want to be her when I grow up.

Courage or a fight for survival?

FLASH BACK FRIDAY

 

Today, my grades for my first quarter of my doctoral program posted and I received a 4.0.  I was just numb when I saw them, & seeing them led me to post for #FBF.  If anyone had told me when my ex-husband deserted us 7 years ago how drastically my life and my kids’ lives would change, I would have never believed them.

Some remember how broken I was back then, and I’m not flashing back for sympathy, but instead to give others hope.  To say this has been an easy journey to where I’m currently headed would be a lie, but no one ever promised achieving one’s dreams would be easy.  I even debated on posting a photo of me way back then.  It brought me to tears seeing that person I was, but what made it even harder was seeing how young my kids were then.

No child should have to experience the kind of pain my three kids did.  I am so proud of the young adults they have become despite the suffering that was inflicted upon us.   It’s great to celebrate our triumphs, but it also keeps me humble to look back to where I started.  But I do love that I am not that broken woman anymore and I am so grateful for the incredible people who have come into our lives since then.

I will probably be screaming from the roof tops the day I walk across the stage and I receive my doctorate, but despite all the incredible opportunities that have come into our lives, I still cannot help but wish that one day that my oldest son could see that I am no longer that sad, broken woman, and wish he would want to  know the woman I have become.  Because I know this woman is a good person and I am proud of her, and while continuing on this journey, I will never forget everyone who has lifted me and my kids up and I will always continue to pay it forward. Happy Friday everyone and remember ‘Courage does not always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, ‘I will try again tomorrow.’ ~ Mary Anne Radmacher.

Remember Your Shadow is a Reflection of Your Shining Light

shadows

I’m just toying with my artistic side today.  I was studying when I looked up and saw this beautiful shadow looking back at me.  It reminded me of my son and the shadows that follow him.  I wanted him to know that his shadows are only there because of the bright, shining light that radiates from his beautiful soul.  His favorite artist is Lady Gaga; therefore, I wanted to reflect her words the best way I could.  I can only hope for my son that he can one day live in a world that respects individuality and one where he can walk down the street and feel free to be himself without being afraid to have bullies and haters lurking in the shadows he still fears. We all have those shadows around the corner, but today I choose to be a light for those who may still be afraid to turn theirs on.