I'm Trying To Rise To The Challenge

I’m trying to rise to the challenge.

I haven’t felt this stressed and anxious in a long time.  That is a huge blessing.  I used to Live in a place of anxiousness.  I didn’t even know how anxious I was then because that was my state of being.  In the last 12 years I have moved my Life to living in a place of near constant harmony.  Because of this, I am clearly aware of what anxiousness feels like in my body, and I do not like it. 

This anxious state of being is being caused by the situation with my Mom.  She has been pretty much my responsibility for almost 11 years.  It has been a roller coaster ride with her.  There were some good times, where she wasn’t drinking and was fairly self-reliant. But it was far more often that I was dealing with the havoc of her drinking and, in the last year, the results of all that alcohol abuse combined with the partial loss of her vision due to macular degeneration on her brain.  She has been rapidly losing her faculties.  It started with the hallucinations and has grown to include memory loss.  In August, it became apparent that she was no longer safe living by herself.  I had realized that she was mis-handling her medications and not eating.  I tried using a medication dispenser that would release the pills and sound an alarm, but she couldn’t connect the dots enough to know she had to actually ingest the pills.  I tried to call her when the alarm would go off and watch her take the pills on camera.  Even that did not work.  I also tried changing her diet to pre-prepared meals that she only had to microwave but this was too confusing for her, even with large print color coded instructions posted on the microwave oven.  She was slipping quickly into the fog of the other world within her pickled brain and all my solution oriented fixes were not working.

it took several weeks to meet with doctors and get a social worker assigned to her case.  The problem was that mom can not afford to pay for full time care.  Her insurance will cover 100 days during which I can apply for her to get Medical. The problem with that is that they require her to be hospitalized before they will approve care.  Since September, I have been white-knuckling it, literally, white-knuckling through the wait.  The social worker, Ester, is trying to get the insurance company to waive the hospitalization requirement but she hasn’t had any luck so far.  We also need for there to be availability in a facility who with that will take in a long term patient on Medical.  Originally, Ester warned me that the wait would be around 6 weeks.  Now we are at three months.  I’m hoping that we do not have to actually have a crisis for me to get Mom the help she needs.

Since the process started mom has rapidly deteriorated.  She has lost the willingness/ability to cook, eat, grocery shop, handle her medications, do laundry, care for her apartment, etc. on her own.  As of this writing about all she does for herself is shower and dress, but that is hit and miss.  I have had to rearrange my Life to be there twice day at noon and dinner time to give her the medications and make her meals.  She has simple things to eat for breakfast but it is more normal than not that she either does not eat or grazes on cookies and candy.  There is no way for me to get there in the mornings as well.  She isolates in her small apartment unwilling to venture out.  But she has also twice been caught in the Lobby of her building late in the evening trying to leave to meet someone from that other World of her brain.  Friends and acquaintances from her building were able to stop her before she heading out to wander the streets at night.  The white-knuckle anxiety is real.

I have been able to enlist the help of Lori, even with her already over-burdened schedule, Amelia, her housekeeper, and Danny, when he is in town, to cover me when I have to work. Amelia now also cleans mom’s apartment weekly and checks in on her when she is working in the building.  Danny, being a kind and patient soul, visits mom and spends as much time as he can with her.  I am very grateful for their help.  Without all of them I would not be writing this from a much needed vacation in Maui.  I am still nervous about the whole situation, but I desperately needed this break.  It is time to rest and be able to focus on my Self-care.  I’m still checking on Mom constantly from here but at least there is some room relax a bit.

My sister, Linda has a more strained relationship with mom.  Mom is a complicated person, who can be very difficult, especially for her daughters.  Neither of us have ever been especially close with Mom because of this.  For Linda the divide is deeper.  In the beginning of this current ordeal I was updating Linda regularly about my struggles but it became apparent that she was going to be neither a place of any real support nor comfort.  As my previously scheduled and much needed Maui vacation approached I reached out to Linda to let her know that I may need her to be my back-up if Mom got into a facility while I was away and may not be able to handle the paperwork from the island.  Linda, pushed it right back on me.  It was done politely and without saying “no” outright but the meaning was the same.  Kid, you are on your own.  

This whole experience triggers me on so many levels I am unable to even sort out all the feelings churning in my gut with individual issues.  It is just one churning mass of anxiety that is always there at varying levels.  I do not have a sacred, safe space in which to share much of this with another person, but I can share it with Micheal,  my Higher Power.  There are times of deep loneliness, and in those times I am trying to connect to Micheal, but I haven’t been able to bring him in close enough to get the comfort for which I long.  I’ve pulled out every self healing tool I have learned to get me through this challenge and they are helping but there has been no magic wand to make it all go away.  

Last week I did get some clarity around the situation.  I am a strong believer in generational karma; that children repeat themes of their ancestors Lives until finally the issue is worked out.  I was struggling with, given that is true, why am I experiencing this with my Mom.  She lost her mom early in her Life and so never had to take care of her.  She didn’t take care of grandparent or her father.  Well, she did take care of her father for one week after he had a surgery late in his Life.  She hated it and complained about how difficult he had been.  So why is this challenge in my Life?  Then one day last week it occurred to me.  It’s not a karma lineage from Mom, it’s from Dad.  Dad took care of his mother who was much more difficult that mine.  Neither of his siblings were of much help if any at all.  The memories came crashing back to me.  Dad told me once that he had a lot of friends but very few close friends.  The strained expression he wore at times, his first heart attack at 54. So many memories now all falling into place.  I realize now how much Dad kept inside.  He bore his burdens alone.  He was a man who everyone liked and he had a lot of friends, but now I see he didn’t have anyone to hold a safe sacred place for him.  I am deeply ashamed and embarrassed that it took me to the age of 57 to realize this.  Dad was stoic for us to the determent of his own health.  He must of been incredibly lonely at times and I was too self-centered and immature to see any of it.  I have always said that the obligation I feel to take care of Mom is really an obligations to Dad.  I know that is what he wants from me.  Now I see the greater obligation is to my son and his children.  I need to work out this karma so that they will not have to continue this struggle in their Lives.

The challenge is to remove this anxious churning ball of energy from my gut.  To learn to deal with the difficulties of Mom with acceptance and even gratitude.  To do all of this without needing to whine to any mortal about my circumstance.  To be self-comforting to my inner child while being loving, kind and patient with my Mom and the World at large.  I need to handle this situation in a way that ends this cycle.  I believe this can only be done with the help of my Higher Power.  I have wanted to learn to connect more fully with Micheal, to clearly hear his guidance.  Now it feels like an urgent necessity.

I also want to do everything I can to make sure my final years her on this plane look very different than my Mom’s.  I want to keep my body as healthy as possible.  If my mind starts to go I want to be proactive in finding my own care before I can no longer make those decisions.  I do not want Daniel or Lori to be in this situation.  I’ve told them that I do not want him to take care of me and to not feel the slightest bit guilty about putting me in a care facility.  “Just give me a cookie, I’ll be fine!”.  I will do everything I can to make sure this will be my path.  The goal is Happy, Healthy, Dead.  But, in the chance that my mind does start to falter, I want to have done enough Self-work and have the tools to handle it without being a Victim.  I’ve made and will continue to make this clear to both Lori and Daniel.  I want this cycle to end with me.  I am rising to the challenge.

Blessings

I'm Not That Girl

This is not me.  

No, I do not do this.  

I am not that girl.  

Yet here I am.  

Mom and Dad swore up and down that they would never be a burden on us girls.  They made it very clear that our opinion on the issue was irrelevant and unwanted.  They would be the masters of their own destiny and we should just be prepared for what that meant.

Then Dad died.  It was sudden and shocking and peaceful.  He had a fabulous day, sat down to watch a movie with Mom and drifted off.  Aaron R Ford Jr. was gone and the world would never be the same.

I rushed to Oklahoma.  I was in a daze and I really had no idea what to do.  What do you do when your dad dies?  All I knew was to get to Oklahoma.  I was the first to arrive to mom’s side but a day had passed and she was a mess.  Then my sister was there.  The three of us, there.  Just there, without Dad.  We are a family of strong, dominate women.   We were all in tremendous grief.  All lost.  All of us nothing but raw nerves on which the other two were tripping.  I felt immediately that our whole family dynamic had changed.  Without Dad’s neutralizing force we were an ugly mess. I am most most like Dad and I felt I had to step up, I needed to be the peacekeeper.  I’d like to say that I did step up, that I became Aaron’s daughter and I held us together, but that’s not what happened.  It took some time for me to grow into that role and I’m still trying to fill those shoes.

We got through the memorial with the help of the our families, and his niece and nephews who traveled to honor one of the best men to ever walk the earth.  We all laughed and we cried.  We honored Dad in a way that I know made him proud.  Then it was time for everyone to go.  They left one by one and there we were again.  Dad’s three girls, all alone. 

Mom, in tremendous grief but as stubborn as ever, insisted on staying in Oklahoma by herself and so we left her there.  We just left.  We were wary but secretly relieved.  Well, I can not speak for my sister, I was secretly relieved.  My world was on the verge of falling apart and I knew I didn’t have the capacity to take on the challenge of Mom.  Not willing to deal with the problem I scurried away from it like a rat.  I went back to my Life and it’s impending disaster.  I called Mom frequently and tried not to notice that she was often drunk and always depressed.  I was barely hanging on myself.  I knew I couldn’t take her on as well.

Months passed and I knew mom was degrading.  I knew it, but I wouldn’t admit it to myself.  When she was sounding really bad I would always ask if she was ready to leave Oklahoma.  I was always grateful when she said no.  Then one day she didn’t say no.  Through tears she told me she couldn’t do it anymore.  She was throwing in the towel.  We had to come get her.  

Ok, we had to come get her.  Ok.  I’m grateful now that as much as I was in denial about mom’s condition, I didn’t hesitate when she asked for help.  I called my sister and we immediately got into action.  Just like when Dad passed, I didn’t know exactly what to do, but I started the “doing” and hoped that the “what” would be revealed.  We put our Lives on hold and we were there within a week. It was the worst three weeks on my Life.  

By now I was very conscious of my new role in the family and I was trying hard to be Aaron’s daughter.  I wasn’t good at it.  This period of time would change my relationship with my sister for ever.  This is a story in itself that I may share another time.  For now all you need to understand was that after three weeks we had sold off most of mom’s possessions and moved her to Arizona to live with my sister.  In Oklahoma we had found mom dazed, unkempt and emaciated.  She was drinking an enormous amount of alcohol  and was always drunk.  Now I was driving away from mom again.  Leaving her with my sister.  Knowing that she was not in a good situation but still relived that I didn’t have to take on the “Mom Problem” as well.  The denial was becoming very hard to maintain, but for now it was helping me to survive.…literally.

The next years brought the World crashing around me, both globally with the Great Recession and personally with the trifecta of Foreclosure, Bankruptcy and, sadly, Divorce.  I was at my lowest point with no family for support and few friends.  But it’s true, God does not give you what you can not handle.  I put on my big girl panties and started rebuilding my Life.  I worked on myself relentlessly.  I did my best to make sure my son was getting the Love and healing he needed and I worked hard at building new, supportive and loving relationships.  I also worked at letting go of relationships that weren’t loving and supportive.  I continued to phone Mom daily.  I did not approve of a lot of decisions my sister was making around mom’s care and the granny flat they were building for her, but I held my tongue.  Mom is not an easy person with whom to deal.  She can be mean and unpleasant.  If my sister was willing to take that situation on she had the right to make the decisions as she saw fit. So I let my sister do whatever she deemed best as long as she was taking care of the “Mom Problem”.  I was just grateful that she was dealing with it and I tried to ignore as many of the anxiety producing thoughts as possible. 

Then the one day the call came.  It was my sister and she was done.  She could not take one more minute with Mom.  She threw the hot potato in my lap.  Again I got into action.  I found a place for mom to convalesce from her resent hip replacement. We got her moved in and I proceeded to learn my new role as the bearer of the “Mom Problem”.  I hated it, and I felt guilty that I did not feel guilty about hating it.  Mom living with me was not ever an option.  I told everyone that I worked too many hours and I had stairs in my home, which was true.  But the stronger truth was that I was glad to have a reasonable excuses because there was nothing about me that wanted to invite my Mom’s chaos into my fragile new World.  I was working hard at rebuilding my Life and establishing a serine home.  That serenity was precious to me and I was not willing to let my mom take that away from me. But that truth was hard to live, especially in a world full of other women who wouldn’t think of putting their moms anywhere but with family.  I envy the relationship these women have with their mothers but that is not my story.  I’m not that girl.  Mom and I were never close.  My mom lost her mother when she was eight years old.  She didn’t have a mom, so she never really learned to be a mom, at least not like what these other women experienced.  The fact is, mom prefers men.  She really should of had sons.  When she’s around male energy, she lights up.  My sister and I seem to bring out the worst of her.  I know I’m making my mom sound like a monster and that’s not fair.  She is a very complicated woman who had a horrible childhood.  She created herself and her Life out of nothing.  The fact that she was able to give my sister and I relatively good childhoods is a miracle and I respect her care and the sacrifices she made for us.  But she never learned to deal with the demons of her childhood.   She just became a world-class, Type A personality and kept busy to keep her demons at bay.  She would have frequent “melt-downs” which I now attribute to undiagnosed mental illness.  She self medicated with alcohol and prescription drugs.  Life with mom was a roller coaster ride of ups and downs and as a sensitive child, I learned to keep my distance as self defense.  Then mom and dad retired to Dad’s tiny hometown in Oklahoma.  At first everything was great.  For the first few years they were busy with house projects and being active in the community.  But eventually they got all the projects done and they had a lot of time to sit on their porch and just enjoy themselves, which for mom involved drinking.  I didn’t realize that her drinking was becoming a problem.  In hindsight I should have, the signs were there.  She had finally slowed down and all the demons were catching up with her.  Mom was now handling the demons by self medicating with beer.  I do not know how much she was drinking before Dad passed but I do remember that she was sensitive about the subject with me and she always seemed to have a beer with her after noon.  By the time my sister and I had moved her to Arizona, she was putting away a case of beer a day.  My sister had enabled Mom to continue limited drinking when she lived with her but Mom had fallen in the shower and broken her hip.  I’m pretty sure alcohol was a part of that accident. 

In the nearly ten years she has been in San Diego the roller coaster has been a non-stop ride.  She continued to drink.  She broke her other hip and a shoulder.  I’ve lost track of all the emergency room visits she’s had from drunken falls.  On July 4th two years ago she had another fall.  She wasn’t seriously injured but she was in the hospital for four days detoxing.  The detox process nearly killed her and it scared her enough to finally stop drinking.  Things got better without the craziness of alcohol but not for long.  Soon she started hallucinating and was diagnosed alcohol induced dementia.  She pickled her brain.  

Through the last few years I have problem solved every new challenge of the dementia but usually without the grace and patience I wish I had. I’m sorry to say I’ve been angry and resentful a lot of the time.  I’m learning compassion but when it comes to Mom, I suck at it.  But I’m trying.  I hate being here.  I hate that I got stuck with the hot potato.  I hate that she did most of this to herself.  I hate having to deal with all of it; doctors appointments, medication, groceries, bills and, most of all, her pickled brain.  I hate being that girl.  

Now she is to the point I have dreaded.  She can no longer reason the simplest problems out.  The wires no longer connect and she is not safe living on her own.  She can not handle her medications.  She doesn’t always eat and she is again becoming reclusive.  When she isolates the hallucinations become worse.  I’ve done everything I can to keep her in her apartment because I know how much she will hate being in a full-care facility.  I know it will kill her; her spirit and her body.  But it’s time.  There is no choice.

I am reaching out to her doctors and asking for a referral for social services.  Mom can not afford a full-care facility so she will have to become a ward of the state.  From what I understand, this can not happen until she is in crisis but I am hoping that I can get her help before something bad happens.  So right now I am bracing for impact.  Bracing for her tears and her anger.  Bracing for my guilt.  Bracing for my resentment of being that girl.  I’m bracing for all of the unknown that is on it’s way and I’m praying.  I’m praying hard to finally fully becoming Aaron’s daughter because that is the girl I need to be.

Blessings

Bleu

Nice-ish

I’m a nice person.  Well, I’m nice-ish.  Let’s put it this way, I aspire to be nice and on most days I am successful.  There is however, a hefty dose of Irish running running through my veins and some people can “get my Irish up” with remarkable speed.  (You know who you are.)

A decade ago I wasn’t so nice.  OK, I could be a real bitch.  I didn’t intend to be a bitch, I still tried very hard to be a nice person; a good girl.  But I was a woman who was so lost in a sea of desperation and sadness I didn’t even know I was in it.  I had no idea how miserable I was because that was the only way I knew how to be.  What I did know (and feared) was that a change was coming.  

It started when my biggest rant buddy shut down on me.  We would frequently get on the phone and complain to each other about our circumstances.  We vented our frustrations the way tea kettles vent off steam.   Neither of us took any action to improve our lot, but the process of venting relieved enough pressure for us to both go on with our merry martyrdom for another few days.  The system worked quit well until she started becoming unavailable.

Without my regular venting sessions my frustrations started to build up.  Oh, I tried to find other venting outlets, even though I really wasn’t conscious of the process.  Surprisingly, I was unsuccessful in finding someone with whom I could regularly regurgitate my grievances and resentments.  My friends seemed to be quite selfish in this regard.  Meanwhile, I was becoming more and more…let’s say difficult.  I was having to face the full magnitude of my eternal wrath, and it was not pretty.  I was becoming desperate; desperate enough to find another way.

The process was slow, painfully slow at first.  Many times my “next steps” were happy coincidences that I can now see as divine guidance.  I was ready and teacher after teacher appeared.  The lessons were hard but loving.  The growth was painful but so worth it.  I’ve added tool after tool to my belt.  They are at the ready for the next “Growth Opportunity” that pops up.  The process is on-going but I have long since ceased to fear it.  I now see my Life as a blessing and I look forward to what’s ahead.

I clearly remember the thoughts and feelings of the miserable woman I was, but she seems like another life time long ago.  Nothing makes me feel more grateful for this evolution than the moments that allow me appreciable evidence of my journey.  One such moment happened just year and a half ago.

There was one former in-law with whom I had a very difficult relationship.  I had a lot of anger and resentment around him and he had been the focus of a lot of my healing work.  Then there came the terrible news that his beautiful daughter had suddenly passed away.  I knew I wanted go to her memorial service but I wasn’t sure what to expect.  Would all the work I had done be enough to face this man in his deepest grief?  How would the family act?  How would I feel?  

I had just walked into his home and was greeting former in-laws (Despite the divorce, we are all very friendly with each other which is something of which I am very proud.) when I felt someone grab me around the waist from behind.  I turned and was enveloped in the arms of this man with whom I had so much trouble in the past.  We clung to each other and cried.  There was deep, deep healing in that hug.  It contained all the confessions, all the amends and all the loving words either of us had ever wanted to express.  We were cleansed by grief, by Love and by a connection that neither us really knew was there before, at least not consciously.  We had both done our work and now we both were reaping the benefits of the healing.  I can not speak for him, but it was an incredible moment for me.  A last gift from his daughter.

So today I strive to be a little nicer than I was yesterday and tomorrow I will strive to be a little nicer than I was today.  I will find more teachers and I will develop more skills and one day I won’t just be “Nice-ish”

Blessings,

Kelly

The Kindness Of "NO"

The Kindness of "NO"

I got to learn another Life lesson last week, the kindness of “No”.

In the last few months I have put myself in a position to ask for a favor on someone else’s behalf.. twice.  Apparently I am a slow learner, as that after being treated to one nasty email reply I had put myself in harm’s way once again when someone else again asked the same people for the same favor.

As I read the second email with it’s nasty, biting comments I had to be honest with myself.  I knew it was a bad idea to ask… both times.  I wasn’t directly involved, yet I inserted myself into the fray….both times.  It’s as if I was begging to be abused.  Part of me wanted to whirl away in my head about how if they only understood the facts they would surely understand that my intentions were good.  Here I am, 52 years old and still concerned about what others think of me.  Even these particular people, who I have never met and probably never would.  Thank God I have done enough work on myself to pull the plug on that pity party before it got rolling.

What I did do was to put myself in their situation and try to see the exchange from their perspective.  I do not know these people, but knowing what I do of the circumstances, I imagine that they have very good reasons for not wanting to help.  Being plagued with the “Good Girl” dilemma myself, I imagined that even though they wanted to say “no” from the beginning that they felt guilty for doing so.  

The result was the onslaught of a chain email involving over 20 people, all responding with questions, advice and opinions.  They demanded answers and the completion of tasks as the price for their involvement.  We were already in a state of over-whelm and without other resources which is why we took the leap of asking for their help.  After a few weeks and what seemed like tidal waves of emails, we were given the official “NO” along with a dose of righteous chastisement.  Hurtful and disappointing as it was, there was relief in the knowledge at at least the emails would stop.  Now at least we could put all our attention on to the search for another solution to the problem.

In my contemplation of this whole incidence, what became clear to me was that it really would of been kinder for them to have just said “No”.  That’s it.  I simple clear “No” in the very beginning would of avoided weeks for anguish and stress for everyone on that email chain.  “No” would of released them to move on with their lives and “No” would of released us to put our entire attention on seeking other possible solutions.  “No” would of saved precious time and efforts.  “No” would of sparred all the negativity that was spewed forth in an effort to erase guilty feelings.  “No” put forth with Love and Grace can be kind beyond words.  

I had heard this before.  Lots of spiritual teachers have told me of the kindness of “no”.  But I am a very Good Girl.  I hate being disappointed and therefor hate disappointing others.  How many times I have hemmed and hawed on my answer to a request because I couldn’t say no.  How many times I said “yes” and then felt resentful.  The gift of this situation is that it allowed this lesson to move from my head to my heart.  I get it now.  I really get it.  When a request is made, I will check in with myself, take the time I need, and if the answer is “no”, I will give a clear, simple “No” with Love and Grace.  

Blessings

Celebration of Equality

I never once doubted that the day would come, but I didn’t know exactly when it would be.  I certainly thought that I would see Marriage Equality in my lifetime, but I planned on being around for quite a while, so that really wasn’t going out on much of a limb.

I kept tabs on all the legal squabbles as best as I could, but frankly they became very confusing and  hard to follow at times.  I can imagine how perplexing the whole issue must have seemed for someone who had no personal interest in the final outcome.  I’m sure some of them were quite surprised on that day, June 26th 2013.

The presentation of arguments on Prop 8 to the Supreme Court had occurred months earlier, but the ruling had not yet been given.  I was busy and out of touch with current events when, on that morning, I happened to hear that a ruling was finally expected.  It was a short time later when I was on my way to work that I got a text from my son with the news.  The Supreme Court had upheld the 9th Circuit Courts ruling against Prop 8!  

First of all, how cool is it that the first one to reach out to me was my son with a message of congratulations?  I must of done something right to deserve that young man.  Ok, now I’m getting all teared up, but Mama’s have a right to be proud.

Ok, back to the story.  The news got even better; the court had also over-turned DOMA.  This decision had an even bigger impact because it affected the gay and lesbian community on a national level.  Now not only could I legally marry Lori, but she would be recognized by my employer - which happens to be a federal agency - and she will be eligible to receive my benefits.  I don’t think most Americans had any idea what was unavailable to same sex couples; I know that I didn’t before it affected me.  There were over 1100 laws from which same sex couples were excluded. These exclusions had to be taken into consideration for things you would never think of in a traditional marriage.  Without making special (and expensive) legal arrangements, couples were denied access to each other when one was hospitalized, and surviving spouses were left destitute when the bread-winner passed away.  We were taxed at higher rates and not given equal access to laws protecting our basic rights. Lori and I even had to be careful of which company we purchased an IRA because they may not treat an allocation to a same-sex beneficiary the same way, leaving them to pay additional taxes.  It was ridiculous and morally reprehensible.   This wasn’t just about the ability to have a fancy party and a certificate - this was about basic dignity and equality.

I hope this helps you to understand what a monumental victory this decision was for Equality.  It was HUGE, and there was going to be a party.  Lori and I had been talking about it for several years as Prop 8 made it’s way through the court system.  We knew if the decision came down in our favor we were going to Hillcrest that night.  Hillcrest is the LGBT center of San Diego.  Just months before this community had raised a flagpole to fly the rainbow flag right on University Avenue.  It was under that same flagpole where we gathered.  

They had set up a make-shift stage, and there were a lot of speeches, but you really couldn’t hear them unless you stood right in front of a speakers.  It didn’t matter, the celebration was the people.  Hundreds of people were there.  Hundreds of individuals with newly recognized equality.  People whom some would call the misfits of society, all proudly being who they were, in living color.  And the colors!  Flags, banners, signs and outfits; the world was a rainbow.  It was truly fabulous!  For me the best part were the allies.  There were so many “straight”  people standing side-by-side with us, cheering and waving signs and banners, celebrating with us - for us.  I was happily surprised by their support.

Then the march began as the big rainbow flag was carried down University Avenue followed by the joyful throng.  It was a rainbow serpent a quarter of a mile long moving slowly down the road.  The police escorts stopped rush hour traffic for us, and while I initially felt bad for the commuters stuck waiting for the mob to pass, I didn’t see one person who was upset.  They were all smiling, some even waving and honking their horns.  There were so many people lining the streets celebrating, at least as many as there were marching, and probably more.  It was an amazing experience.

That’s when I saw them -a lesbian couple on the side-walk watching us pass.  You could tell that they were a couple who had been together a long time, the way you can always tell any couple who had been together a long time.  One was standing behind the other, holding her partner as they watched the celebration.  It was the look on their faces that summed up the whole story.  That picture was worth way more than a thousand words.  Their faces told of struggle and hardship, of immense Love and Joy - of a normal life within an untraditional relationship.  Their eyes held disbelief, and relief.  They never thought they would see this day, maybe never dared dream of it, but it was here.  It was real.  It was only one step, but it was BIG one.  The tide had turned, finally, it had turned.

Chelsea's Run

She went for a run and never came home....
I few years ago I gave up listening to the news. It happened by accident. I used to listen to talk radio all day long, but I had gotten an Ipod for Christmas and I spent the next several months loving walking around with my own personal sound track for my life. One day my Ipod’s battery died and I dug out my old radio. It only took a few minutes before some disturbing news about the body of a missing boy being found came over the air waves. After spending months away from such things I was able to notice how the news felt in my body, and I didn’t like it. I turned the radio off and put it away. I’ve never turned it on again.

It was another year later when I divorced and in a money saving move, I eliminated my cable TV service. Now I had no access to television news. I was insulated from the constant onslaught of negative media and I thrived. I still knew what was going on, you don’t miss out on the big stories that really affect you. It is just that you hear it all second hand, and if you’re interested you can read all you want about it on the internet. You are affectively buffered from all the stories that drain your energy and your joy. That is until they hit close to home.

On February 25 Chelsea King disappeared. She simply went for a run around Lake Hodges and never came home. Chelsea lived in Poway which is directly north of my San Diego neighborhood of Scripps Ranch. She attended Poway High which is the school my son’s girlfriend, Samantha, also attends. Chelsea is a year older than Sam, but Sam did run Cross Country and played in the school band with Chelsea. So I tuned into the television news, following the story with a sense of dread. I watched as the story rolled on over the next week. The agony of the parents broke my heart and then there were the pictures of Chelsea. The photos of a young and happy girl; silly, beautiful, sweet, and innocent, rolled across the screen while the reporters discussed the crowds of volunteers searching the hills and the divers searching the murky lake. Days came and went, an arrest was made, but still she had not been found. It was heart wrenching to watch. What hit me the hardest was one picture of Chelsea, just a snapshot really, but it caught her in a moment of pure joy. In it, her eyes sparkled. It reminded me so much of Sam….sweet Sam. It could have been her; it could have been any girl. Unfortunately, in our society we cannot protect our innocent from our monsters. (I hope that we will be able to change this, but that is a different blog for a different time.) Then they found her, buried in a shallow grave just off of the trail. It was over, there was no more hope, Chelsea was gone. I sat taking in this nightmare, feeling helpless, wanting to do something, anything.

I had spoken with Sam several times, offering to give her and her friends some lessons in Self Defense. Now I realized that I really needed to do this for any young woman that wanted to learn. As the holder of a third degree black belt, I have spent a lot of time, blood, and sweat learning to defend myself. I am passionate about it, but it had never occurred to me to teach it to others, not until now.

I recruited my old training buddy and fellow black belt, Marsha, to help me and last Friday we gave our first workshop. It was informal, just a group of women, young and not-as-young, gathered in a local park. I wasn’t sure how it would go, but I was passionate about giving these young women and their mothers as much knowledge as I could to keep them safe from the monsters like the one who took Chelsea’s life, and I think that we did a pretty great job and I am looking into setting up more workshops. You always know you are in alignment with what you are intended to be doing by how it feels in your heart. This night I knew, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that night Marsha and I were doing exactly what we were intended to be doing.

I am, once again, avoiding the news media and feeling more myself. I’m sure that I will continue to follow Chelsea’s story as her murderer is brought to justice and her loved ones move on in their desire to bring something positive from their loss, but I can do this and still buffer myself from the negative onslaught of mass media. The difference for me is that now I have another “calling” to answer, and I have a burning desire to teach as many young women as I can how to protect themselves. So here are a few thing s that I want you to know….

The number one thing that you can do to protect yourself is to BE AWARE. Pay attention to your surroundings. Don’t walk through a parking lot texting on your phone or lost in your thoughts. Walk out of the store with your keys ready in your hand, walk with purpose, get in your car, lock the door and go. If you’re jogging watch what is around you. Has that same car passed you three times? Does the trail lead into a dark area with a lot of places for someone to be concealed? If someone in a car stops to asks you for directions, don’t go near the car. If you can not hear them, just say sorry and jog away. Pay attention to your intuition. How many times has something happened and you said, “I knew it, I knew that would happen!” Start paying attention to your thoughts and feelings, if a situation or a person is giving you the creeps, stay away. Pay Attention and Be Aware!

Right up there with awareness is ATTITUDE. These guys are looking for an easy target. They want to dominate and terrorize. You do not want to look mopey, sad, meek or distracted. Stand up straight, look people in the eye, walk with purpose and assume a whole “you don’t want to mess with me” attitude. Put simply, don’t look like a victim.

Next is SISTERHOOD. We’ve got to watch out for each other. Everyone makes mistakes and let’s their guard down. That’s when we have to count on our friends to have our backs. Don’t let a friend leave a party with anyone that they just met no matter what. Watch each other’s drinks at a bar. Watch until a girlfriend gets into her home when you drop her off. Let each other know who you are going out with and when you will be home. Keep each other safe.

Finally is TELL. Whether you had a date that got a little too aggressive or you were a victim of a full-on sexual assault, Tell! Tell someone, anyone. In the case of an assault, call the police immediately. Do not change clothes or take a shower, the police will need the evidence. These guys will continue to prey on us as long as they can get away with it so we need to protect each other and get the word out about whom they are and what they do.

Above all, if you are assaulted DO NOT LET THEM TAKE YOU SOMEWHERE ELSE! If they are trying to get you into a vehicle, you are now fighting for your life. They are not taking you somewhere that will be safer for you. They will be taking you somewhere they feel safe, where they can take their time with you and you will not live to tell about it. If they have a weapon it is better to take your chances to run, screaming your head off because if you go with them you will die.

These are the main points that Marsha and I teach in our workshop. Then we also show the ladies some basic of fighting. We want them to understand the “target” areas on a man and what parts of their bodies they can use to hit those targets. It doesn’t matter how you’re being held, there is some way to hurt them if you know what to do.

Thank you for bearing with me on this, I know that it may have been rough to read in parts, but it is the truth. If you would like to know more about how you can protect yourself please contact me.

Blessings,
Kelly

Listening for John D.

Sometimes those magic moments that we call epiphanies happen quickly, flashes of clarity that come out of the blue bringing us enlightenment, but this week I had one that took 30 years to come to fruition. You know how some people just stay with you, continually popping up in your mind, far more and long after you think would be reasonable? One of these people for me has been John D. and now I think I understand why.
John D. was a classmate of mine in high school. He was the biggest guy in school, a tall and strapping farm boy, and due to “alphabetical order” we were linked throughout our high school experience. In this tiny rural Nebraska school, Kelly F. followed John D. I sat behind John in most of our classes; I lined up next to him in PE, shared a locker with him and sat next to him on the stage at our graduation. But even with all of this close contact I have to admit that I didn’t know John very well. I was terribly shy and insecure back then and John was one of the popular kids, (yes, there are cliques even in tiny schools) and I guess I just didn’t feel worthy to open up to him. I have always liked to sit back and observe others around me and I observed John a lot. He completely fascinated me. There was just something different about him. He was just as wild as any of the other boys in the school but there was something more to him. There was a depth to his eyes that I have since come to understand as a mark of an old soul. He had a way of disarming a volatile situation by transforming his huge presence with unexpected silliness. What I get now, 30 years later, is that John wasn’t ego. He was authentic. He was who he was and he was just fine no matter what others thought of him.
John passed away in an accident only a few weeks after we graduated in 1980. I had moved to Phoenix and didn’t find out about it until after his funeral. The news rocked me to my core. I was unable to process all the feelings of shock and loss at the time, there was just too much to sort out and I didn’t have the knowledge or skills to put what I felt into words. So like everything else, it went on a shelf within me until I could figure it out.
A few days ago John once again popped into my head but this time I let him just sit with me trying to understand why he has stayed with me all of these years and then I got it. In the last few years I have been working to hear and trust my intuition. I have long known that sometimes “I just know things” but now I have come to realize that I am very intuitive and always have been. The thing is that my intuition has a soft voice, a whisper in the wind, and to hear it I have to really pay attention. In thinking back on my memories of John I suddenly realized that the whisper was there. My fascination was an attraction on the Soul level. John must have had some “gift” for me but I was unable to let him in to my life at the time. When John died, so did my chance of ever discovering what that gift could have been. That was what was at the root of my grief. Even though I wasn’t capable of understanding it at the time, my Soul knew. My Soul knew that I had forever lost my chance to discover what special gift John’s Soul wanted to bring to my life.
I pondered this realization for a few days. All the memories and emotions attached to them are as fresh as if they had just happened yesterday but with this new understanding I can see how all of the pieces fit together. What has become so clear for me is that John is really still with me, just on a different level. He still has a gift for me but now I will have to listen for the “whisper in the wind” to receive the message. The good news is that now I am ready and I am listening.
Blessings,
Kelly