My 4 Lessons of 2013

New years. A time of reflection, change, and rejuvenation. It was a pretty good year for me, I learned a few things. Here are the 4 most important things I learned this year.

1. Respect your children. I feel like I have done the best I can as mother, and when they were babies it was easy, feed, cloth, shelter, and snuggle. As they have grown and begun to think and feel as little individuals it has become more complicated. Respect is important to me; I won’t tolerate being disrespected especially in my own home. But now, I realize more than ever, it needs to be earned, not just because “I said so.”  I need to keep my word, create space for bonding, and try to foster learning without crushing their spirits. I have been called out, hurt, inspired, and awed by my growing boys and know there is work to be done as they transform into young men.  So thank you dear children for keeping me honest.

2. I need to be creative. Everyone has an urge to be creative, whether it’s painting, crafts, writing, singing. We all want to create something beautiful just for its own sake. I think it’s something that can easily be ignored and brushed aside, but that ignoring this aspect of your being can be toxic. I have been writing now more than ever and my blogging has been cathartic and healing. I also still have my grand dream of publishing a memoir. It still feels rather far off but I'm glad to have a dream. 

3. Healing is ongoing. I once thought I was as healed as I was going to get. But after some significant backsliding, and rude awakenings I know it’s something that is never done but needs continuous work. Thank you therapy for helping me unpack those boxes. Often unpleasant, and sometimes a lot of work but well worth it.

4. I am a lover. I am unabashedly, adoringly, enthusiastically in love with people. I need to express my love, my heart overflows with it. If I like you, I’m probably in love with you. I am in love with your uniqueness, your strengths, your weaknesses. I love the ways you are different from me, and the ways we are the same. I believe love is an amazing radiating energy and I thank the universe I have been given such a large capacity for love. I used to be apologetic about being too soft, making “excuses” for the way people were. No more. If I am soft hearted, that is my place, there is room for everyone in this world, being a "softy" is who I am.

So here is me wishing you a Happy New Year! My wish for you all to have continued learning, and more love than you can handle. 

A Brilliant Gift

I identify with this woman and her journey with her daughter. (See link at the bottom of the page.) I was one of those judgmental people, who blamed ADHD on bad parenting and what have you. Until I was blessed, yes that is right, blessed with an incredible, intelligent, sweet, curious boy...with ADHD. And just like woman in the story, we picked up on his gifts, yes gifts, early on. Here was a bright boy with a nearly gifted IQ, who was unable to succeed at school, struggled with appropriate behavior with friends and family. He had repetitive verbalizations, interrupting constantly, fidgeting, zero ability to concentrate, and impulsive behavior. (I have plenty of exposer to other children, so I know the difference between “normal boy” stuff, and what it looks like to be ADHD)But he was smart! And intuitive, artistic, empathetic, and FUNNY! The type of funny you have to be smart for. He NEVER gave up.

After years of struggling to keep up, testing with specialists and doctors, multiple diagnoses of Dyslexia, ADHD, and a vision disorder too complicated to explain, I was resigned that school was always going to be a huge challenge. I spent countless hours tutoring him with an expensive reading program, volunteered at the school, and took him to vision therapy, which was also hugely expensive.  I find it noteworthy that none of these interventions were covered by insurance.  Finally as a last resort, and not without hesitation, we started him on medication.

We waited a full year before getting a prescription because of the negative stigma attached.  The idea that parents throw their kids on medication as an easy-out is quite simply untrue. But it got to the point he was barely keeping up, there were daily tears and frustration (his and mine) trying to complete the simplest assignments, things that should have been easy.

When he started his meds...the change was amazing. He is so proud of his success at school now, he bursts through the door 90% of the time either having done his homework already or excited to do it. He gets happy little notes on his work from his teacher. And today, he was awarded top in class for WRITING! One of the most difficult things for him to do. And he also received a “Most Improved” award.  I am so very proud of him, and it brings me to tears to see the pride on his face. This little boy is a brilliant gift to me and has many many brilliant gifts to share. 

So if anyone wants to judge anyone else for the decisions they make to help their children have the success they deserve, stop and educate yourself.  

Are there problems with our education system? Definitively yes. Are there natural interventions? Of course and we use them as much as possible, diet, nature walks, and focused time doing things he enjoys. (Lately it’s cooking.) But to discount the benefits of ADHD medication, or worse, discount the existence of ADHD altogether, is only increasing the stigma, and making the struggle of these children (and adults) that much more difficult. 

http://www.salon.com/2013/11/17/lay_off_my_daughters_adhd/

An Atheists Christmas

On Christmas, being an Atheist, and what it means to me. Being an atheist one would think I would have no reason to celebrate the holiday. This couldn't be farther from the truth.

I am an atheist, but this does not mean I don’t experience reverence. Reverence for my fellow man and the capacity we have to love and care for one another. Reverence for things that are beyond me to understand, “miracles” if you will. Reverence for life and all of its unexplainable beauty, a frozen pond or tiny winter bird on a bare branch.

 I also value bonding with my friends and family through traditions. The memories we create at the holidays, when our hearts are full and we have lots of love to give, become treasures to future generations. Christmas carols bring tears to my eyes because of the sense of love and nostalgia they evoke. I love the cooking, and family gatherings, I love the snow and warm fires. There is an overall sense of family being celebrated. It is traditions that keep those who have passed on alive in our hearts.

Also charity and the generosity of the human spirit comes alive this time of year. People are reminded of the importance of caring for others. When we have so much, be it love or money, we are compelled to share it liberally during the holidays.  And whether we have everything we want or just what we need, people seem to be more grateful.

I know many people will argue that Christmas is about the wee baby Jesus, and that is fine, but it means something to me as well. And if I am wrong in the end, I am quite confident I will be forgiven for my non-belief, because the things I do believe in are Love of my fellow man, Charity, and Reverence for all the beautiful mysteries of life we cannot understand.  All of these things are important to me year round but I very much enjoy celebrating it in unity with so many others during this season.

Have the happiest most joyful holiday with those you love, celebrating it in whatever manner fills your heart. 

Bittersweet Repose

There is a space between sleep and wakefulness, when you have slept the deep slumber of a person exhausted by the racing of their own mind. A space where your regrets and mistakes both real and imagined, your unrealized ambitions rise up to haunt you. Sometimes you see clearly what it is you should be doing with your life, or the reparations you should be making to others, or the brilliant idea, the artistic expression that will cleanse your soul.  But you are powerless to move your limbs, to speak, to take action. You have been given an answer, and your greatest desire is to use this elusive resolve.

But as you begin to come into consciousness, those haunting half dreams, the clarity of those answers begin to fade, slipping back into your subconscious. You are left to try to groggily recall what it was you were shown. With heavy lidded eyes, and slow moving limbs, you climb from your warm repose trying desperately to cling to the inspiration, or resolution you know was just there moments ago. Now it is tickling the back of your mind, half formed, like a puzzle with missing pieces, hopelessly veiled in the space between sleep and wakefulness. 

Soul Sister

One day when I was about 12, my mother told me she was going to have another baby. I was angry, how could she do such a thing without my permission? I don't know if that is the usual reaction of a 12 year old, or if it was just me. I was an angry confused young lady who had had a pretty rough start in my life thus far.

I already had 2 little brothers; the eldest was a crazy haired, scrawny, introspective and opinionated 8 year old. He was not particularly outspoken, but had a firm sense of what he thought right and wrong and we fought all the time.  He is the same way today (without the fighting) and everyone loves him dearly for his thoughtfulness and levelheadedness.

The youngest was around 2 or 3 years old, cherub faced with jet black hair, rosy cheeks, and piercing blue eyes. He had a never ending curiosity and propensity for finding trouble.  And you guessed it; he is the same way today. He is extremely intelligent and can figure out just about whatever mechanical/electrical problem you put in front of him and something about him makes you want to hug him.

So at 12 years old, I thought our family had had about enough of babies and found no reason another should be added.  I fumed about this until my mom began to show, it was then I realized there was a tiny being in there that was just waiting to come and meet the world. As I grew accustomed to the idea I began to get excited, I helped to go through the hand me down baby cloths, (there were a lot, there was no prenatal doctor visits and certainly no knowledge of the sex of the baby) and began to imagine what my new baby brother or sister may be like.

As the day grew near I stayed close, having been promised to be able to see the birth, the anticipation was unbearable! But the temptation of friends and sleepovers eventually won out and it was on just such an evening my baby sister was born.

I was awoken from a dead sleep at my friends house, and told to get up quick and come home, my mother was having the baby. You can bet I shot out of bed and rushed home as fast as I could…only to find the baby girl had already arrived. But the thrill of meeting her the first time alleviated any disappointment I may have had.

There she was, all pink and squished with a shock of thick black hair on the top of her head and soft black fuzz on her back and shoulders just like a little monkey, and I loved her.

From that very moment we have been almost inseparable, I changed her diapers, fed her, and sang her to sleep. (She even slept in my room as a toddler, with her fat little feet planted squarely in my face).

Over our lifetimes we have forged a strong and loving relationship, she calls me Sister Mama, and for my part she is the daughter I never had. We can finish each other’s sentences, get each other’s often crass, very dry and witty humor, and we would do absolutely anything to keep the other from being hurt.

For many years I did my best to protect her from whatever I could, took her under my wing, and made sure she had the things she needed even after I had left home and got married. Consciously or unconsciously I took her on as my charge.

And what I got in return is priceless. Today she is a bright, compassionate, thoughtful young lady who has a heart of gold and her head on her shoulders right where it belongs. Every moment I spent playing patty cake, or tea party, shopping for her first bra, talking about boys, being the holder of secrets and dryer of tears, has paid off tenfold.

Today, she is the holder of my secrets, the dryer of my tears, laughs at my jokes and listens to my rants. She has the wisest most thoughtful advice you will ever hear, and not one judgmental bone in her body. In my darkest moments it is her voice that soothes me.

Everybody who knows her loves her for her easy laugh, sense of humor, and generous spirit.  (And her dance moves are unmatched).If she doesn't know it already I would like her to know that she is indeed my hero, and probably a hero to many others and more to come.  I could not be prouder of her, or love her more,  if I tried.

A Legacy of Violence

My mother was a battered woman, in every sense of the word. She was verbally abused, threatened, manipulated and physically abused. She lived in an environment of fear and helplessness he created to control her. He needed to control her because of his own insecurity and pain. The situation was a vicious circle.

Eventually, my mother ran, literally, in the middle of the night feigning a run to the store for presto logs. She was at the time heavily pregnant with me,  and leaving two young children with him. That is the level of fear she lived in. So afraid, so helpless she left without her children. This is something I know not many people can understand; leaving your children. It was difficult and painful and done out of sheer desperation. I watched that decision torture her all of her adult life. That decision, and the fact she had been broken down physically and mentally, seeped into every aspect of her life. The raising of her children, whom she chose as partners, everything was tainted with either guilt or fear.

She did fight to get them back through the court system, but he was a smooth talking convincing man and she was unable to win against him. This in and of itself took a great deal of bravery on her part. He was supposed to share custody, but somewhere along the way, through fear and manipulation, that never happened. My mother and I were separated from my two siblings for 20 years.

Violence against women, why does it happen? Is it the message society has fed us for so many years, that women are weaker, subordinate to men? How is it that a man can lift his hand, or lash out with violent and cutting words, to someone he professes to love? Is this a subconscious urge to control? A need to assert power? Superiority?

Whatever the answers are, it's past time to educate people, and to provide rescue for women from these horrible situations.  Because, even after a woman is removed, and years have gone by, there are still wounds that won’t heal. It is a far reaching and terribly damaging experience for any human to go through. Mentally imprisoned, and sometimes even physically. Post traumatic Stress is a very real repercussion for these women and their children.

I hope that before anyone judges a woman as weak, or stupid, or asks "why doesn't she just leave?" when they go back to the abusers, you must understand the level of manipulation and fear that has been leveled against them. It takes an incredibly strong woman with a network of people assisting them to get out of abusive relationships. Something the abuser has spent years breaking down and taking away.

Often the children of these relationships come away with anxiety, stress and fear. The girls choosing abusive men because that’s what they recognize of love, and boys abusing the women in their lives. This is a cycle that must end.

In our family, for the most part, we escaped but not without damage. Some of us narrowly avoiding the cycle. My first choice for a boyfriend was verbally abusive at the least, and at the very end pushed me down and put his hands around my throat. That was a turning point for me. It was then that I decided I would not allow a man to treat me like that ever again. At that time I did not understand the psychology behind the choices I was making. 

All the members of our broken family have dealt with the repercussions of our legacy in our own way, suffering from anxiety, depression, phobias, self medicating and other issues. But for the most part we have healed the best we can.

My point is this, batterers crimes are far reaching, and don’t stop when the battering stops. Society needs to step up, and better educate the populace on this issue, we need to fund programs for women to get out and get safe. To provide for them ways to keep their children together and make available food and shelter. These women are in essence victims of war, refugees in their own country. These women should be able to leave, without fear of losing their children, their homes, and their lives. It’s time for those who batter to be held accountable, not the victims.  I will share a link to my mother’s blog where she writes briefly about her experience.  http://www.writergoddess.com/2011/06/women-and-batterers.html

Birthday Thank You's

I love my birthday.

Nobody has to remember it, I don't have to have a party, or get gifts, I have just always loved my birthday. Somehow I feel special on that day, a day just for me. I should hope everybody feels this way on the day that marks their entrance to this strange and wonderful life.

Birthdays are wonderful time to take stock of your life. To reflect on where you have been and where you need to go. This year I reflect on my many experiences good and bad, and how they contributed to who I am and how I feel about myself today. And I am happy to say, in the big picture I am as happy and fulfilled as I could wish to be. Not content by any stretch, to stagnate, but thrilled with life, its unpredictability, fullness, and ability to teach me new things all the time. I am delighted I have learned to roll with the punches as they say, and embrace life as it comes. This is not something that I have always been good at but have only begun to perfect in recent years. I also reflect on the people who have helped to form me. And the person I am, the person I love (most of the time) has so many people to thank.

My mother, for teaching me through example, empathy, tenderheartedness, and an appreciation for art and beauty. She also taught me graceful acceptance of what is, and an ability to love humanity however flawed it may be.

My siblings, for allowing me to learn to be a caregiver, to love and care them when they needed me. For letting me prove I am capable and compassionate. And in return, for caring for me, when I needed them.

My husband, who has been both friend and lover, and stood by me through many changes, that has not always been easy. He has been a safe haven during my many transformations, sometimes my whipping boy and always my anchor.

My children, for giving me back my sense of childish wonder, of bugs, and flowers, and the stars, and moon, and whether chocolate milk comes from brown cows or not. And for reminding me always what is really important, with their simple and sometimes brutal honesty.

My Love family (commune) friends, who are really nothing short of family. Whom I have bonded with through our shared experiences good and bad, and who are always there when they are needed. They understand me in ways I don't have the words for.

Also Love Family Community as a whole, who taught me to embrace differences, to love easily, and wholeheartedly, to question the status quo, and challenge the norm. Who instilled in me a strong belief in the unity of humanity through our need to give and receive love. Who taught me to live with an open mind and and open heart. 

My new friends I have made over the past year, who accepted me for who I really am, unquestioningly and with open arms. Who have helped me discover parts of myself I never knew were there. They have given me a renewed sense of community, inspired my growth in new and exciting ways, and challenged me to think more critically, reflect more deeply,  and love more fully. 

There is a long list of people I could thank individually, who have helped me along the way, but for today, I would just like to thank all of you who have crossed my path, whether it was briefly or whether we walked together a spell, for making my life a beautiful  and inspiring thing. I love and cherish you all, Thank you.