angst

During my younger years I met people I never would have expected to encounter.  And, as in any story, it had to do with a boyfriend.  I was young, unemployed and newly separated.   My children were two years and three months at the time I met him.

I found myself unemployed with an absent husband and so set off in search of employment.  I was out of my element in the big city and didn’t know anyone who could help me.  And, by some quirky chance of fate I located an unemployment agency in downtown Seattle and made an appointment.

I had employment skills, but no education.  I was determined to provide for my toddler and newborn, but had no clue what I would do.  Fate was on my side.  Perhaps it was my naivete, perhaps it was my youth.  Regardless, I ended up with an interview on my first attempt at a job.  I’m convinced that someone was watching over me and guiding me to my future.  The interview went well and I was off to meet my future employer.

Turns out my new job connected me with the man who would be my mentor and surrogate father.  He gave me opportunities I couldn’t imagine and made sure that I attended college.  Meanwhile, the employment counselor I met with became a significant other.  My life opened up to uncharted territory and I learned more in that short time than I had in 20 years of life.  I was blessed.  I found my family.

Now, 30 years later I look back at those times as a blessing from the Creator.  I learned so much and had amazing mentors.  My life could have turned out so differently and, yet, I’m now in a position to pass on my teachings.  I mentor amazing young women who will change our world for the better.  I feel complete.

I share this as there are moments of angst where it feels like things will never get better; where you will struggle no matter how hard you work; yet, there is someone looking out for you and guiding you on your path.  It’s hard to understand when you are young, but looking back you’ll realize that your life has meaning and significance to others.

Stay strong.  Move forward despite the challenges and know that you have meaning and your life will make a difference.  I didn’t know it then, but I see it clearly now and I’m so thankful for the people I met along the way.

Pay it forward.  You’ll be amazed at how beautiful the seeds you plant become.

2018: The Year of Isolation

Last night I cancelled my subscriptions to the New York Times and the Washington Post.  Two weeks ago I deactivated my facebook page.  I also unsubscribed to corporate and business emails.  I am on a mission.  A mission of isolation.

2017 was a fucked up year.  Every day featured one crazy story after another.  “He said,” and “Today the government is” and on and on.  It was one catastrophe after another.  Our country’s values; human values tanked.  We witnessed behavior that had no place on a playground let alone displayed for the world to see.  And, yet, there it was day after day.  The destruction of American values.

As a young girl, I was sought after by the town’s church leaders determined to claim my soul by way of after school programs and out of town camps. Not having much power of my own or other options I listened to the various church leaders and attended Sunday school.  In my isolated town there wasn’t much else to do and I looked forward to the opportunity to attend different camps.

While the trips were definitely appreciated my major takeaway from church were the teachings to care for one another and the less fortunate, to follow the rules, and to believe in the good of others.  But, there was a darker side that was filled with stories of death, and hell, and the afterlife that I despised.  I hated the fear that was used to control us.  When I turned 14 I caught on to the religious scam and refused to go back.  Turned out the most vociferous church leader of them all was sexually abusing my cousin who was one year younger than me.

So, all that to say that my early beliefs of caring for one another, leading by example, and caring for the less fortunate have carried into adulthood.  Naively, as a young woman I believed in justice for all only to learn that justice is only for the privileged; that people sell out their values to the highest bidder; that the extraction of resources usurps mankind.  I can’t reconcile my personal values with the reality and shortcomings of those in power or christianity.  I’m constantly stressed and disappointed in people.  People are evil and disgusting and yet they espouse their christian values as if they are good, but yet are the worst of people.   I find those in power a constant source of angst and among the majority of hypocrites.

And, so here I am in 2018 and on a mission for isolation.  I need to escape the chatter to focus on my family and all that is good in the world.  I need to disconnect to relieve myself of how disappointing and selfish people are in our country.  I need to take time to enjoy and support my family as they make their way into the world.

I’m in search of goodness.  2018 is the year that I move beyond the ugliness and hatred and focus on how I can support others on their journey and find those moments that make you appreciate life.  I know they are out there.  I just need to take time to reflect and pay attention.

 

Why do we get caught up in manufactured holidays?

I’m so over all this collective, manufactured holiday stuff! Why do we allow ourselves to get caught up in consumerism?  When did Jesus say thou must spend money, lots of money!

I go through this intense annoyance every year at this time as I purchase my groceries and am forced to walk through all of the clutter and stuff and latest fads, and, honestly, just plain ol’ crap!  Who wants this stuff and why do we need it?  Doesn’t anyone think about where it originates and what the folks on the manufacturing end are put through to create this crap for us to buy?  I just can’t even describe how annoying I find this holiday.

And, yet, we are conditioned early on to engage in consumerism and give a gift to some annoying ingratiate who could care less that you took the time to drive to a store, find parking, and get caught up in the annoying masses who are intent on ensuring they find the best buys.  Please!

Does it make me a bad parent to hate this holiday?  Why do we have to go into debt for the next three months just to partake in the ritual drinking of consumerism kool-aid?

“It’s fun,” they say.  “The kids look forward to it every year.”  What a bunch of crap! The kids roll their eyes and pout around for not getting a $600 iphone/google phone.  And, why in the world do they deserve it?  Just because us women carried them around for nine months and bore incredible pain to bring them into the world does not in any way entitle them to free stuff because of some made up holiday.

Yeah, I’m a grouch.  And, yeah, I don’t care.  I work too hard to go out and buy stuff for people just because we are conditioned to believe it’s some how a mandatory annual tradition.

I’d like to think I’m not alone in this scrooge mentality because it certainly feels like it.

#notinthemood #nodebt  #stupidstuff #notcontributingtothecorporatetaxcut #needmoneytopaymytaxes

 

Spare me the BS and let’s be real

I don’t know why I doubt myself.  My intuition is absolutely on point, but it takes awhile to get there because I’m caught up in my pathetic good girl persona.  Why?  Because I was raised to be respectful, to do the right thing, to be empathetic and not cause waves.  Cause waves? What the hell does that even mean?  Perhaps what I mean is to go with the flow.   Well, fuck that.  I’m so pissed right now I don’t give a shit.

I am a mother of four amazing children; each unique in their own way.  We’ve all walked/stumbled on this journey together, but through it all my kids know that I love them with a fierceness that cannot be denied.  I love with every fiber of my being.  My children are my life; all that I live for; all that I worked for.  We have very few rules other than be respectful, have empathy, and live a life that abides by the rules and gives back to those that are struggling.

Seems simple enough, right? But, no.  My eldest daughter, the one who cruised through school, lived independently in another country, and couldn’t wait to move out has caused me more grief and consternation than I could have imagined.  Drugs (not sure which ones) latched onto her sometime during her final months of high school and followed her on her international journey.  I didn’t see her for 3 years and when she finally returned I thought all was well, but it was merely a precursor to her great fall.

Several arrests later and she ended up in jail over her first Thanksgiving and Christmas home.  I refused to bail her out and it wasn’t until she was released from jail several months later that she ended up in treatment and found out she was pregnant.  I insisted on an abortion and she insisted on keeping her baby.  She returned home and thrived on pregnancy and the life she carried.  She came home, got a job, and worked hard to save money for a new home.  We all enjoyed having our daughter/sister home.  Life was good.  One year later she moved into her own place – and, by then the boyfriend had inserted himself back in her life. They did good.  She added another job as an assistant manager, built up her credit, bought a car, and doted on her daughter.  He eventually got a job and they finished their outpatient classes and focused on buying a house.  I was busy with work and travel and time just passed.

But, we had always stayed in touch.  She would call to update me on work and her daughter’s latest accomplishments.  She bought another car for the boyfriend.  We discussed her finances and how to improve her credit.  She got a credit card to buy a new laptop which came with 0% interest rate for the first year and a $6,000 limit.  Did I mention that she was going to school full-time to ensure she had daycare and was working seven days a week for nearly 8 months?

One day I noticed that the visits became farther and farther between and when I saw her next she had definitely lost a lot of weight.  When I questioned her she blamed it on stomach issues which was a viable excuse.  I knew she had abdominal issues, so it made sense that she had lost weight.  But, other red flags popped up.  She flunked her summer courses and her weight continued to plummet.  The few times I saw her she was tired and her eyes glossy, but then again she was working seven days a week and going to school.  When I visited her house she had all her bills listed on a whiteboard and she couponed to get great deals on household items and diapers.  Who coupons when they’re doing drugs?  I convinced myself that those were reasons why she couldn’t possibly be doing drugs, but I had my doubts.

And, then he lost his job and soon she was calling to tell me about his absences.  She started calling on us to help with babysitting which we loved as it gave us more time with our granddaughter.  But, something was off and I bought a drug test and made a point of dropping in unannounced to check on my granddaughter.  But, the fridge was stocked with fruits and she took her daughter to day care on time and all was well.  Still I remained concerned.

I confided in my friend that I was ready to confront my daughter and ask her to take a drug test, but she suggested I take a step back and trust her.   Trust is hard when dealing with addiction.  All that you know and love suddenly disappears and is replaced with a stranger.  The inner battles rage.  Am I right or am I wrong?

Well, I’m right.  I can’t prove it, but I know that he is doing drugs.  I do know that she’s in debt.  My heart aches and I so want for it all to be right again.  The horror of addiction is that there is no one to talk to or share your fears with and no guidebook to move forward.  It is a journey filled with anger, hatred, disappointment, despair, and unimaginable love and heartache.

I need a partner to get through this.  I am strong, but this journey is uncharted.

 

What happened to my innocent, baby girl?

She came into this world with a vengeance.  Contractions came fast and furious and I was sure her arrival would be just as quick.  Was I ever wrong.

With my first born contractions were slow and methodical.  I never felt any panic or concern that I needed to rush to the hospital as I was unsure whether or not I was in labor.  It was only until I felt the urge to push that I walked across the street to the hospital and quickly gave birth to my son.  The nurses rushed to accommodate the swiftness of my labor and ended up delivering him before the doctor arrived.  He was born a gentle soul; full of love and gifted with artistic talent before he turned one.  Today, at 25, he is a responsible young man who has followed the rules, pursued his love of arts, and still calls or visits for advice.

My experience with labor when it came to my Nessa Beans is another story.  I don’t recall how close I was to my due date only that I was confident that I had nothing to worry about based on previous experience.  As I went about my regular routine, slashes of pain hit me out of nowhere and I was relegated to the couch where all I could do was writhe in agony.  Fear of another early delivery motivated me to head to the hospital only this time I couldn’t walk and needed a ride.

After nearly eight hours of excruciating pain and an epidural, I gave birth to my little girl.  She made her presence known early on and was beset with numerous medical issues that challenged me as a single parent,  full-time student and full-time employee.   My children’s father walked out on us when she was three months old, so I found myself a full-time student when she was nearing her first birthday.

She adored her brother and did everything she could to keep up with him by learning to walk early and getting potty trained.  He loved her with a passion and was always there to assist her or give her a hug.  Soon after she started walking her pediatrician informed me that an umbilical cord issue required surgery to repair what was later found to be an intestinal issue.  After hours of grueling surgery I finally got to see my baby girl wheeled away to a recovery room.

It turned out that this would be the first of many trips to a surgery waiting room that I would experience over the years.  She had night terrors that left her inconsolable and me exhausted; incessant ear infections and more surgeries.  Just before she turned two I learned she had vision problems that resulted in her eyes crossing and required more surgery.  The picture I posted of her is just before I learned she had vision problems.  I love her little face in this picture as she was always serious, in competition with her brother, and strong of spirit.  She  was my little angel and I loved her to pieces.

Soon after the eye surgery she got her glasses and was quickly chasing after her brother.  Everything was a competition including my love for each of them.  As she became more nimble and vocal it was apparent that she wanted assurances that she was just as important as her brother.  For me there was no competition.  I loved them both and her brother was more than willing to step aside to make sure she received all the attention.

Her independence and strength appeared early on and once she hit kindergarten she started taking on the dominant role.  She would take care of her brother and started speaking on his behalf though she continued to adore him.  The two of them remained close and by third grade my Nessa had established her as a fierce competitor prompting a local soccer coach to seek us out.  The next nine years would have us traveling through out Washington and Oregon attending soccer games and state and regional competitions.  By 10th grade she had her first sports emergency room incident followed by a concussion in 11th grade. She was prescribed different pain medications which she began taking as prescribed. She remained a good student and then by her senior year red flags started appearing.  Tardies, absences, and a new boyfriend disrupted our lives and I found myself caught up in something I had no idea how to deal with nor even how to name. A month before graduation she moved out without any discussion. We were devastated and had no idea what was going on. Regardless, her family was there to witness her success as she walked down the aisle. What we didn’t know was that she had entered a world of addiction we were ill prepared to handle.

Looking back at that time, the toll it took on my marriage and my love for my daughter was profound. I still feel the hurt like it was yesterday.  I believed in her. I trusted her.  She was my baby girl and there was no way in the world she would ever do anything to hurt herself or her mother.

To be continued…

Enjoy Art and Culture in the Comfort of a Beautiful Room

Travel isn’t just about earning points, it’s about valuing your time and engaging in all of the offerings of the city you visit. Skwachays Lodge takes your overnight experience to a whole new level. Not only do you have the benefit of a fabulously, uniquely designed room that you’ll never find anywhere else, you can view amazing Aboriginal art in the gallery, learn from knowledgeable staff, and access the waterfront and Chinatown right from your front door. Each room is uniquely themed and designed by a local artist in collaboration with a designer ensuring that each guest has a memorable experience and lasting memory that connects tradition with today’s enduring culture.

We arrived around 8:30 p.m. and had a wonderful check in experience. Though it was late, we pulled into the back alley, located the garage, and were pleased to see the onsite hotel staff person there to greet us and accompany us to our room while explaining all of the hotel features. The walk from the garage to the indoor elevator was warm and gave us a chance to visit the Kayachtn Room which offered complimentary coffee, tea, hot chocolate, and flavored soda water. The water dispenser offered plenty of options and was something we’d never seen before, but once we figured it out we loved it. Nice touch! As were the complimentary apples and bananas that were just what we needed after a long drive.

We had planned to see “Into the Woods,” and were pleased to find a large cineplex located right across the street. How convenient is that when you’re traveling with kids? Made for a great evening with the kiddos and saved us the hassle of driving and parking.

Upon returning to our room which had a fabulous half kitchen – coffee pot, cupboard with wine glasses/coffee cups/juice glasses, and a refrigerator – we settled into our beds and checked out the local tv channels. The beds were firm, but in a way that was more comfortable than not, with freshly pressed pillow cases and a comfortable comforter/duvet. The room itself had clean, crisp lines with tones of grey and red that were very comforting and pleasing, yet very sophisticated in design. The room temperature was very comfortable, though the heating system was louder than we’re used to, so if you live in a quiet, rural area like we do be sure to bring your ear plugs as we couldn’t figure out how to turn it off.

Upon awaking we were pleased to find unique bath products scented with peppermint and sage and extremely comfortable bath robes for our bathing pleasure. The shower stall is very clean and has great water pressure and the thick towels and fluffy robe was an added plus. The peppermint/sage lotion left a nice tingling feel to both wake you up and relax your muscles. With four people counter space is at a premium though the kitchen drawers make for great extra storage and there is a full mirror in the entryway which is helpful.

Do take time to visit the gallery and check out the 6th floor smudge room and balcony. The staff are knowledgeable, helpful, and truly love their jobs. We enjoyed learning about the history and vision for this unique social enterprise site. And, it was great to know that our hotel cost was also supporting affordable housing for Aboriginal artists. Where have you ever seen that?

Our dining experience was amazing! Brunch at Yolks on E. Hastings and at Edible Canada located at Granville Island was over the top! Try the french toast at Yolks! It’s on our best ever list. And, for dinner we had to do the dry ribs at Steamworks – it never fails to tantalize our taste buds.

This is a cultural experience wrapped up in great service and support of a great organization. We highly recommend this as a unique, once in a life time experience.

#skwachayslodge #vancouverbc

Birthday Wishes

My husband’s birthday wish was to hike Hurricane Ridge with his family and we couldn’t have asked for better weather.  The ride from Bremerton to Hurricane Ridge was just about two hours with a quick stop at the Jamestown Longhouse Deli and Market.

Upon entering Hurricane Ridge we decided to pay the $30 annual Olympic National Park pass rather than the $15 family entrance fee. Doing so gives us a good reason to plan our 2015 camping season now rather than at the last minute.  From the park entrance to the Hurricane Ridge center was about a 20 minute drive of windy roads – Keep an eye on your driver as their eyes tend to wander with all of the great views.

The sky was a vivid blue with few clouds to be found.  The temperature was around 74 degrees and when you are walking up hill it is compounded quite a bit.  The trails are nice and clean and mostly paved.  The incline can get a bit steep at times, so I recommend taking a rest on the numerous switchback viewing areas.  Hey, there is no shame in taking time to recuperate, rehydrate, and take in the incredible views.

We hiked with our 14 year old son and 11 year old daughter and didn’t have any complaints! (surprise).  They took great pride in leading our charge and venturing off to explore the trails off the beaten path which we highly encourage.

Our son, Sage did a great job of calling the deer to us with a blade of grass.  Had I not seen it myself I would not have believed it, but they were truly drawn to his calls.  The deer got so close I thought that they might actually box him, but they registered this look of surprise and confusion at hearing the calls and only seeing a bunch of humans.

We noticed hikers of all ages making their way up the sometimes steep inclines.  Many had the hiking sticks to help them up and down the inclines, though we tend to be low maintenance – water, snacks, towels, tissue.  My husband and daughter were in flip flops and slip ons.  I, on the other hand, was glad I wore socks and tennis shoes.

We didn’t bother to time our selves going up the ridge, but I’m sure it was more than an hour with our stops.  Going down was much quicker at 30 minutes, though for those with knee problems it will take more time.

The photos, while beautiful, just don’t capture the amazing beauty of Hurricane Ridge in person.  To the left you have a clear vista of amazing mountains and to the right – Canada, Bellingham, Dungeness Spit, Port Angeles, the Straight of Juan de Fuca.  So much to see. So little time.

Life is good.

My husband wanted the family to join him on a hike to Hurricane Ridge and we couldn’t have asked for better weather.

Birthday Wishes Granted

O’ Father Where Art Thou?

My husband and I recently met up for a 15 year anniversary honeymoon trip in Sigatoka, Fiji.  He had just finished up attending Kokiri Putahi, an international Indigenous Arts gathering in New Zealand for two weeks and I flew from Seattle to Brisbane Australia to visit my daughter whom I haven’t seen in three years.

For me it was a quick trip.  Three nights and four days filled with quick trips to South Bank, Mt. Coot-Tha, Surfer’s Paradise, and the Koala Sanctuary.  As a mother it was quite enjoyable to spend time with my now 23 year old daughter and witness how much she’s matured over the years away from me.  She was the perfect hostess and gave me her undivided time and attention by making sure I got to visit her favorite places.  Leaving her was difficult, but my little Ness has come into her own in Brisbane and is at home with her new friends safe and sound.  I left confident that she was safe and flourishing and pleased that she’s doing all that I never could do as a young parent.

Fiji was our dream vacation.  Leaving the rain and cold of Seattle for palm trees, beaches, relaxation and an escape from our busy days was our ultimate goal.  Instead, we arrived to a rainy day, a long ride in the dark while driving on the left side of the road, and difficulty with our driving instructions.  After several hours and numerous backtracks, we finally found ourselves driving up a very primitive, volcanic hill and I was glad that we went with the SUV, as it is quite the ride getting to “Heaven’s Door.”  Fortunately the door was unlocked when we arrived, so we quickly unloaded our bags and headed out in search of food.  Since it was so late we headed over to the Outrigger Resort and were treated to excellent hospitality and great food.  It was the perfect end to what had been a rough start.

The next couple of days were spent sitting at home waiting out a mini cyclone that was working its way across the islands.  Strong winds, torrential rains and darkness greeted us.  We whiled away the time watching “Cast Away” and other videos in the collection.  We had a local cell to contact the landlord, but no other access to home, other than an internet card I hadn’t quite figured out.

The next morning we were greeted with blue skies and 360 views of the pacific ocean.  It was like the prior days never occurred. I was happy and ready to tackle the day.  Suddenly motivated I took my laptop out to the deck and downloaded the software necessary to access internet service.  After several trials and errors I managed to log onto facebook.  There were messages from numerous nieces and nephews urging me to call home with no details other than my kids were fine.  I frantically messaged back my inability to call and pleaded with them to tell my what was going on.  After several back and forth messages, one of my nieces responded,

“Well, have some sad news about your dad he passed away a few days ago and his funerals on saturday. I’m sorry.”

Alone on the deck I stared out at the beautiful view shone in the photograph above.  A million thoughts and emotions raced through my mind – disbelief, anger, frustration, agonizing pain, and on and on.  The tears erupted much like the cyclone of yesterday, my face wet with grief, my mind a torrent of thoughts breaking my heart and through it all I tried to calculate airline flights.  After what seemed like forever, my husband came to my side inquiring about the tears.  I couldn’t speak other than to show him the computer screen.  He wrapped me in his arms and rocked me back and forth as I allowed myself a moment of vulnerability.  The fear of losing control shook me back to reality.

“How can this be, ” I wondered inwardly. My father, the man that adored me as a child, fixed my hair, dressed me, and cared for me was gone.  Even though we had lost touch after my parent’s divorce as a pre-teen we had reconnected many years later and had set the past behind us.  Though he lived in Florida we managed to connect through mail, phone calls, and the occasional visit.

Every memory I had of him was suddenly pulled from the recesses of my mind as I looked out at the water to make sense of the fact that he was gone and I would never see him again.  His voice echoed in my ears as I recalled our last conversation and he told me, “I’m alright, darling,” in his southern drawl. The memory of his voice brought on a new wave of tears.  I struggled with the beauty of my surroundings and the tragedy of his loss as I sat on the deck of the aptly named, “Heaven’s Door.”

Traveling back to Jacksonville in time for the services was not possible. I had to make a decision to move forward with our vacation though it was extremely difficult to know I would not be at my father’s funeral with my sisters.  For the rest of our trip I heard his voice, recalled memories and wondered about his last night.  “Are you out there? Are you okay? How do you feel?”  I wondered if he could see me and what he would say.  I hated that I couldn’t be there to make sure he was properly taken care of and that his service in the Korean war was recognized.  I smiled and laughed though my heart hurt incredibly.

Arriving back to the states I knew I had to call my sister though I dreaded talking to her as it would make his death a reality.  Calling her was difficult.  I didn’t want to know the details; I didn’t want to hear about his family drama nor how greedy they were.  And, yet she opened the flood gates with detail after detail about everything that occurred during the funeral and how the vultures came in and devoured his estate.  The horror of his death was revealed in excruciating detail.  I couldn’t take it anymore and had to hang up.  It’s been over a month and I cannot call her nor his brother. I am still struggling to understand what it means that I will never hear his voice nor see him again.  Despite our tangled relationship, we loved each other.  There was never the time to talk about life and all the baggage that goes along with it.

But, in the end, I love him.  I love the moments we had together and I hurt that I couldn’t be there for him.  In some ways I am still in denial, but I hold this hope that his essence is out there somewhere watching over me, guiding me, and letting me know that he is fine and finally at peace.

 

Unfaithful and I’d Do it Again!

Have you ever found yourself in a rut where it was same ol’, same ol’? Where everything was so predictable that you new exactly what to expect? Well, after years and years of being faithful to Hilty for the few crumbs he threw me I decided enough was enough. It was time to explore new horizons and find out just what I’ve been missing. Wow! I feel like I’ve been walking around with blinders on for years! Aloft, you knew exactly what I was missing and blew me away with your sassy design savvy and extreme coolness which turned out to be extremely hot! Who knew that a big, bold sign could be so alluring? Or, that your jazzy lobby was so Portlandia chic? And, then to top it off with a family of 4 Portland Attraction pass? Call me easy, but I’m totally sold and that was just at hello. You hadn’t even gotten me to my room at that point. I hadn’t realized what I’d been missing by being faithful, but you opened my eyes. I needed this escape from the mundane to explore my adventurous side. Thank you for one glorious night of infidelity. Let’s do it again real soon!

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Never underesti…

Never underestimate the power of women. Especially a group of women gathered together for what appears to be just a quick dinner. We can exert incredible change in that short gathering that others pay exorbitant fees to consultants to explore and yet never ever achieve results.