I AM MY OWN DAD

 Dear Dad,

Thank you for all the happy, lovely memories you gave me as a child. 

Thank you for saddling the horses, so I could go for a ride with you in the foothills. 

Thank you for giving me enormous smiles while pulling me on water skis behind the boat.  

Thank you for "bear stories" and for "sack of potatoes."

Thank you for daddy daughter dates.

Thank you for teaching me how to work hard.

Thank you for teaching me how to love nature and the many backpacking adventures.

Thank you for my love of high mountain lakes. 

Thank you for giving me your lovely parents.

And Dad...

Thank you for giving me the deep and dark abyss in my heart. 

Without the pain of losing you Dad, who still lives, I would be unable to understand the acute, contrast between unconditional love and lack of it.

The feeling of support by a father and the ever present heart rendering, lack of support from a father. 

The painful heartbreak of always feeling neglected and abandoned and what it feels like to be held in adoration by another.

Thank you Dad, for the tremendous pain of feeling so non-existent that I'm able to endure the degradation of rape and heart-splintering emotional abuse.  

Dad,

 I'm so grateful that I know directly straight to my heart, what being without a father feels like because...

I now know what true self love is and how, I would never find my Dad in any men and, that I would continue to attract men that would abandon me, neglect me, and not be able to reflect that love back to me, until...

I pour into my sweet, beautiful broken heart all the love a father does. 

I am now, my own Dad.

I treat my little girl like the amazing, diamond heart that she is. 

I recognize her strengths and her weaknesses. 

I encourage her to stay the course, to keep her chin up and to...follow her precious heart.

I keep her safe from the world and teach her how to say "no" and to kick ass when it's needed.  

I'm the one who tucks her safely in bed at night and tells her "everything is going to be alright my dear." 

I am the one who looks into her eyes and tells her she is beautiful and magnificent. 

I am my own Dad. 

I cry on my own shoulder and allow myself to be vulnerable. 

I hold my own heart dear and love myself fiercely through this life.

I see myself as the representation of the loveliest of all things in life, and as the very best of me.

TRANSFORMATIONS

This is a deeply personal story. It isn't finished yet, but it wanted to be told. Please keep your judgements at a minimum, and just listen to one woman's journey back to the girl she once and into the woman who gained everything through it. 

I'm reading a book by Eve Ensler, Insecure at Last, it has me traveling back in time, back to a time before I became a deeply hurt woman, to now, a strong, vibrant, still opening to possibilities, woman. A woman reaching back to a time when she was a young woman about to go out into the world, all optimistic and enchanted eyed, she was going to do something with her life, be somebody.

I was 19 when I met my ex husband for the first time. He was an angry, strong, driven, stubborn and rebellious young man, of only 22. He was my ticket back to Salt Lake, where I was hoping to finish school and become something. And as in many things, there was a hitch, and I would pay the price for this hitch, my lack of self-worth. I would spend the next 10 years, being torn down to a shell of a person. I would eventually have to leave, and break apart my beloved family unit I had so lovingly held together, through much adversity, so I could get to myself and get my power back. The heartbreak I would feel was almost more then I could take, and knowing this would break my children's hearts too, was almost enough to keep me from leaving. I knew I had to leave, for the sake of all our hearts.

I was the kind of child, no one would think would ever be treated cruelly or poorly by anyone. I felt invincible. I was a super hero. I knew I could do and be anything I wanted to be. I did. Except, I had one flaw, like cryptinite. I had a hole in my heart, a place in my heart that was insecure and hurt and wanted only idealist things to be real. I was a romantic. I believed that Little House on the Prairie was a real place, and that Michael Landon could be my real dad. I believed what Roahl Dahl said, about being able to escape horrific circumstances by getting inside a peach, with insects and going on great adventures. I thought that I could be like Louise May Alcott and change the course of lives for myself and other woman, forever. This idea, this idealist thinking, made me weak in the real world, and I fell prey to it. I believed, I could overcome and change anyone's heart. 

So, with my over zealous heart and hopeful outlook, I went to Salt Lake. It started slowly, like a frog in boiling water. At first is was words,  "You're going to wear that?" or "This is not made right."  Then it changed to not being allowed to go out with my friends, because I'd have to deal with the guilt and anger afterwards, Id's rather not deal with it. It soon escalated to "What the fuck did you do that for?" and pushing me up against the wall with a forearm to my neck. I heard, "stupid" so often, after 10 years, I believed it. It took me almost 11 years to remember I was a hard working, straight A student in High school and college. There was tremendous fighting and shouting at the top of lungs. There were small things that broke me down over time, for example: Something wasn't prepared right at the restaurant, I was made to take it back, even though it wasn't my order. And there was the insidious criticism, that broke me down piece by piece, until I was a disgusting, bag of obedience. There were times I felt worse then a dog. He would have never treated his dog this way. 

It went on like this for months. My friends noticed it, my co-workers were shocked that I was with such a "dick." I slowly became more quiet, I didn't socialize as much as I used to and I was behaving in ways even I didn't recognize. Luckily, I had school. I could get away from our tiny apartment, that reminded me of a kind of prison and do what I loved to do, learn. 

So, it went until one day, I felt so tired I wanted to fall over right there where I stood. And my boobs were so sore. I called my mom and told her, I thought I was depressed. She asked me about my symptoms and what was going on. I didn't tell her about the hell I was living, but by process of elimination, we guessed, I was pregnant. Dear God!!! WTF?!? How could this be true? My heart sank. Not because of the child I'd carry, but because I knew I didn't want to raise a child with this abusive, prison warden. I was more scared then I'd ever been in my life. I was not going to have an abortion! I was dead against it. 
I took the pregnancy test home, and sure enough, I was going to have a baby in only 9 months. I told my boyfriend and shit hit the fan. He was not going to have a child. I should have left then and there. 

I was in the abortion clinic. I couldn't hear a word the lady was saying, I was crying to hard and didn't give a shit anyway. I was here to appease him. It was down pouring out side and I got soaked on the way in. My eyes were red and puffy and I looked like hell. I sat in the cold office while a lady gave me info about procedures. I didn't hear a thing. I went back out to the car and was the most sad I'd ever been in my life.

That night, after an acid induced revelation, and a good friend telling him what a fool he was, my boyfriend came home and asked me to marry him. A very scared girl of 21 with no fight left in her, said yes. 
The days after that went by quickly it seems, lots of fights still but a deep sense of happiness. A sense of a greater purpose. I was having a child. A child of my own. Someone to love and care for and to show all the great things of this world.
I was tired, resolved and somewhat happy at my wedding and just wanted it to be over, so I could go put my bloated 5 months pregnant feet up and take a long bath. 

Once the sweet, blonde haired and hazel eyed boy came everything was better. He was the light I'd been looking for in the darkness. He was my life and my utter joy! I was a mother! I had no idea, I'd love and cherish it so, but I drank it in and reveled in it's pure, sweetness.  Plus, my now husband, was gone for a month at a time. Me and my little adventurer, got to spent days doing art projects, exploring the hills and rivers outside and junk piles. He was a little pack rat. We had to go through his room every few months or the place started to look like a junk yard and smelled like one. My son, was the brightest spot in this world I had ever known.

The bright spot was still not able to make the hardness of being with my husband go away. His mood swings from smoking tons of pot escalated into full blown demonic episodes. And unfortunately, because of my stupidity and lack of worth, my sunny bright spot saw and heard the brunt of these outbursts. My heart still breaks at the thought of it. The images still haunt me. I still to this day, cannot understand how a grown man could ever yell in the face of a 2 year old, sweet little boy. My bright star was getting his little heart crushed too. And by his own daddy. I look back now and am sick at my behavior. We ran twice and came back twice. I was still so weak and powerless to stay away for good.

The years went by. I was well aware of my situation by now and how I was living with an abuser and an addict. I did what I could to hold it all together, and to give my child some normalcy in all this shit. We had our second child 6 years after our first. A sweet, loving little angel girl. She was momma's girl and wanted mom over anyone else. She was an observer and snuggler and was as stubborn as her daddy. She was my chubby cherub. She was the cherry on top of my amazing, lucky chance at mothering. 

As we went along in our crazy, stupid lives, I was beginning to understand that I was failing. I could no longer hold this together and get out alive. I was going to die. All the good in me and all that cared and could fight was starting to fade. I couldn't hold it all up anymore. It was all going to turn to dust... poof, disintegrate. The light in my heart was fading it was going out. That girl who was optimistic and hopeful and full of fun and joy was going to die. I knew I had to save her.

I was done. I was done with all the lying and promises. I was done with yelling and fighting, and our children thinking this was normal. I was done with our children thinking pot smoking was normal, and that they weren't good enough. I was fucking done with me not being good enough. I was absolutely good enough! I got out while I could, while my children were still young enough to thrive, to be great and ok, to recover and find some peace and strength in themselves. 

After the massacre called, our divorce and the shit storm it left on our hearts and minds and our finances, we were the wounded trying our best to do life. My children were heart broken, I was unavailable and quite nuts, my heart a tattered wreck. My son became victim to my ex's bullshit, and started down a path of hurt and learning what not to do, at much to young. My daughter became angry and would have unbelievable tantrums at the drop of a hat. We were the recovering victims of 10 years of abuse, addiction and pain. It was the carnage of a all to normal abusive relationship. I was ready to stand up and have the life i intended as a young girl. I was ready to show my children there is peace and consistency in the world. I was ready to love myself and show my children that love and mirror it back to their broken hearts. It was time to be the woman I knew was in there, waiting to let her fire burn bright and to be free.

11 years later. 

DATING...MEN...RELATIONSHIPS

HMMMM...I DON'T KNOW MUCH, BUT I DO KNOW A LITTLE ABOUT THIS TOPIC.
I FIGURED SINCE I'M GOING TO BE TEACHING A CLASS ON THIS SUBJECT, PERHAPS A FEW WORDS ABOUT IT ARE IN ORDER. KEEP IN MIND, THIS IS A RAMBLING.

MEN. THEY ARE AN INTERESTING GROUP OF HUMANS. NOT ALL THE SAME, OF COURSE BUT A COMMON THEME HAS SHOWN UP IN MY DATING. THEY LIKE WOMAN WHO ARE ENGAGING. THEY'RE INITIALLY ATTRACTED TO PRETTY WOMAN BUT, IF YOU CAN HOLD THEIR ATTENTION FOR LONGER THEN 30 MINUTES, YOU MIGHT HAVE A CHANCE. THEY ALSO LIKE WOMAN WHO ARE KIND AND ATTENTIVE. NO SAD SACKS OR DUDS. GUYS LIKE FUN TOO! THEY WANNA PLAY! THEY MAY WANT TO PLAY CHESS, THEY MAY WANT TO BE OUTSIDE, OR PLAY FRISBEE GOLF. THEY ALL LIKE TO PLAY TANGLE YOU IN THE SHEETS AND KISS SOMETHING. 

MEN ARE PRETTY SIMPLE WHEN IT COMES DOWN TO IT. NOT SIMPLE MINDED MIND YOU, BUT NOT QUITE AS ANALYTICAL AS WOMEN ARE IN PICKING A PARTNER. THEY DO NEED TO LIKE YOU, FIND YOU ATTRACTIVE, AND THEY NEED TO FEEL NEEDED AND OR APPRECIATED. THEY LIKE TO FEEL IMPORTANT TO YOU. THEY LIKE TO FEEL THAT YOU'RE GOING TO STICK AROUND, THAT YOU'RE NOT GOING TO !@#$%^&* AROUND. TO BE UNFAITHFUL TO A MAN COULD BE LIKE HAVING A BEST FRIEND, STAB THEM IN THE BACK, IN A DARK ALLEY. IT CUTS DEEP.
THAT DOESN'T MEAN THAT MEN CHEATING ON A WOMAN DOESN'T HURT AS BAD, IT'S DIFFERENT. IF YOU'D LIKE TO KNOW WHY THEN I'LL GIVE YOU MY OPINION. FOR NOW, TAKE MY WORD FOR IT.

I LOVE MEN. AND THIS DOESN'T MEAN I'M MAN CRAZY. IT MEANS, I'M NOT A MAN HATER. I APPRECIATE MEN AND THEIR GIFTS. THEY HAVE THE ABILITY TO GROUND US, SAVE US FROM OURSELVES AND TO OPEN US IN A WAY ONLY THEY CAN.
I HAVE GREAT ADORATION FOR THEIR AMBITION. THEIR DRIVE TO PRODUCE, TO CREATE AND TO BUILD, "TO TELL THEIR STORY." THEY HAVE A WONDERFUL TALENT FOR MAKING SOMETHING FROM NOTHING. THEY HAVE THE ABILITY TO MAKE A FAMILY, A HOME, AND LIFE OUT OF NOTHING, BY JUST SIMPLY CHOOSING IT. 

DATING.    OH DATING. I COULD WRITE VOLUMES ON THIS SUBJECT. PERHAPS I WILL. THE RULES, THE HOW TO, MARS AND VENUS. LORD! GIVE US A FUCKING BREAK. THE TRUTH IS. WE ARE HUMAN. WE CONNECT TO OTHER HUMANS, OR WE DO NOT. THE MOST IMPORTANT THING TO REMEMBER IS TO BE TRUE TO WHO YOU ARE. IF YOU'RE TRYING TO BE SOMEONE ELSE TO CATCH HIM, YOU'VE ALREADY LOST. IF HE IS INTO YOU, HE WILL BE INTO AGAIN AND AGAIN. HAHAHA. BASICALLY, THERE'S A CONNECTION OR THERE ISN'T.

THAT BEING SAID. I HAVE FOUND THAT GENERALLY, IF YOU SLEEP WITH A MAN TO SOON IT CAN KILL IT. BUT, IF THEY WERE JUST LOOKING TO GET LAID, IT WAS OVER BEFORE IT BEGAN. MEN LIKE A CHALLENGE, AND THEY WILL HOLD OUT FOR QUITE SOME TIME TO GET WHAT THEY WANT.
BUT, THIS DOES NOT MEAN IT'S A SURE THING. IT GOES BACK TO THE ENGAGEMENT PART. IF YOU CAN HAVE A MAN ENGAGED, YOU MAY HAVE A CHANCE. THERE ARE MANY TYPES OF ENGAGEMENT, AS MANY AS THERE ARE MEN OUT THERE. IT MAY BE YOUR SMILE, YOUR LAUGH, A SUBJECT, SIMILAR INTERESTS, YOUR BOOBS. YOU NEVER KNOW. WOMEN NEED TO BE THEMSELVES AND THEN THAT PART IS EASY. MEN ALL YOU NEED TO DO IS BE SWEET AND SINCERE. AND FOR GOD SAKE, BE HONEST. DON'T BE A RUDE !@#$%^&*. APPROACH HER FOR GOD SAKE! TOUCH HER ONCE IN AWHILE. YOU TOO GIRLS, IF YOU LIKE HIM, TOUCH HIM. 

OK LADIES, THIS ONES FOR YOU. GUYS LET ME KNOW IF THIS IS TRUE. IF YOU WANT TO KNOW WHETHER A GUY IS INTO A RELATIONSHIP OR NOT, LISTEN TO HIS WORDS, AND WATCH HIS ACTIONS. THEY SPEAK VOLUMES. HE WILL SEE YOU IF HE IS INTO YOU. IF HE DOESN'T MAKE PLANS WITH YOU, PROBABLY NOT INTO IT FOR VERY LONG. IF HE DOES FUTURE TALK, HE WILL MOSTLY BE LOOKING FOR A RELATIONSHIP. BUT, YOU DON'T NEED TO KNOW RIGHT AWAY. YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW IF YOU WANT TO HANG OUT WITH THIS GUY FOR MONTHS, LET ALONE YEARS. JUST HAVE FUN AND SEE. THAT'S WHY ITS CALLED DATING.

WOMAN AND MEN CAN MAKE IT. WE ARE MEANT TO CO-CREATE AND TO PARTNER AND BUILD THINGS TOGETHER. I TRULY BELIEVE THIS. WE ARE MEANT TO PARTNER AND SEE NEW HORIZONS, ENRICH EACH OTHERS LIVES. BEING A SWEET PLACE FOR ANOTHER TO LAND AND SHARE.
THIS IS REAL IN ANY KIND OF RELATIONSHIP STRAIGHT, GAY... ANY. COMMUNICATION IS THE KEY AND MUTUAL RESPECT. 
WHEN WE LET HURTS FROM OTHER RELATIONSHIPS INTO A NEW ONE, WE ARE DOING A GREAT DISSERVICE TO OURSELVES AND THAT NEW PERSON. THIS IS A CHALLENGE, BUT SO WORTH IT IF YOU CAN NAVIGATE THE SHIP LONG ENOUGH TO FIND CALM WATERS AND A NEW ISLAND. OUR PROJECTIONS ONTO OTHERS ONLY MAKE IT MORE CHALLENGING TO NAVIGATE. THERE ARE TO MANY OBSTACLES. A CLEAN SLATE IS NEEDED. AND NO MORE HATING.
I'M TIRED OF WOMAN BASHING MEN, NO MATTER WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO THEM IN THE PAST. THAT WAS THEN. AND MEN STOP CALLING US CRAZY. 
WE AREN'T CRAZY. WE'RE LOVELY AND SOFT AND SWEET AND FUN AND SEXY AND SMART AND FULL OF LOVE. WE MAY HAVE BEEN HURT, AND NOT DONE BEING HURT, BUT WE AREN'T NUTS. 

THE BOTTOM LINE IS. WE ARE ALL HUMAN. WE ALL WANT LOVE AND NEED LOVE TO SURVIVE AND TO THRIVE. IT'S TIME TO START BEING WHAT YOU WANT TO SEE. IT'S TIME TO BE YOURSELF AND LOVE THAT RAD PERSON. THEN PERHAPS YOU CAN REFLECT THAT SWEETNESS FOR SOMEONE ELSE. THAT IS WHAT IT'S ALL ABOUT, THE BEAUTIFUL REFLECTION OF CARING AND EMPATHY AND JOY AND SEXINESS AND CONNECTEDNESS. THAT IS A TRUE RELATIONSHIP. NURTURING THE REFLECTION OF ADORATION.

This is the beginning of a story. A story I know well. I don't remember it all, but what I do remember I want to put in writing. 

My baby sister before the storm.

    There was no reason for us to make that phone call. We were rebellious, ignorant and had guts. Why else would 2 girls aged 8 and 9 make a prank call to 911.

    Mom left us alone while she took the babysitter home, this was plenty of time to make some prank calls. We lived out in the sticks. Few babysitters who would brave babysitting the Heward clan, lived at least 20 minutes away. We were a rowdy bunch of heathens. We rarely listened to our sitters and ran around wild, daring her to keep us contained. So, I guess making a prank call to 911 wasn't so far fetched.

    I remember the feeling. My older sister, by only 13 months, on the phone with the dispatch, my stomach felt sick and my heart was banging against my ribs. I knew it was wrong, and if we were found out, we'd be in the biggest trouble of our short lives. I also felt exhilarated, like we had done some thing bold, beyond our grasp of childhood power, we were out in the place of no return now. “ Our sister fell off the deck and broke her leg.” I could hear my sister on the other receiver, while I was in my parents room, hiding listening to this lie. The dispatch sounded urgent while my sister answered her questions and then hung up after saying “ an ambulance will be out as soon as it can.” We were in deep now. No backing out. My stomach came up in my chest and I found it hard to breath. I ran out of my hiding place, to meet my sisters horrified face. We knew what we had done was probably the most horrible prank anyone could pull. We were mortified. We were in deep !@#$%^&*!

    Mom arrived about 10 minutes later. “There's an ambulance driving around down there, I wonder where they are going, I hope everyone is ok.” she said, as she came in the door. Turning and finding my sister and I in a state of overwhelming anxiety and tears of guilt sheeting our faces, she knew exactly who's home they were looking for. I broke down sobbing and pouring out my sick feelings of angst and fear at what we had done. My mother's face was full of scorn. She couldn't believe her two young girls had done such a horrific prank. I ran and hid under my bed after she mentioned we'd be apologizing as soon as they made their way, to our hidden house on the hill.

    Tears streaking my freckled face, head down, I wobbled out on to the front porch. Ambulance headlights shining brightly in my red eyes. My heart was beating out of my chest and only  choked a, “I'm sorry.”  I was barely audible, as the  relieved EMT's looked down on my sister and I. At that moment, there was no possible way for me to conceive the pivotal importance this moment would have on my life. And even more importantly on the life of my baby sister. We could never have known that our horrible prank, would be the very act that saved my sisters life. The EMT's were able to get to our house in time and with proficiency to save my baby sisters life, because 2 young girls had pulled an unbelievable prank.

  
  I walked the mile from the bus stop that sunny afternoon, just like I always did.  My Star Wars metal lunch pail dangling from one hand. Up the windy paved hill and down the other side. At the dirt drive to our house, I could either cut up through the coral or I could wind over and up the drive. I chose the coral that day. It was a trudge straight up the sagebrush and short grass hill. The horses were way over in the South corner. I could see their backs and an occasional whipping of tails waving off the flies. I was content. I had had a good day at school. I loved school. It was a wonderful haven for me. I adored it's structure and the ability to use my inquisitive mind, and my social flare. I was a bright and attentive student. I was my one of my teachers favorites. Still, being home was one of my most favorite times of the day. We lived way out in the country. My cousins used to complain at how far we lived from Boise. Back then, my best friend's dad owned a 300 acre parcel of land that he cattle ranched. It was at the corner of Floating Feather and Highway 55. We used to swing on ropes in the enormous barn and swim through the grain in the 40 foot tall silos. I was a country girl. I grew up riding horses, swimming in the ditches and water skiing on the Payette lake. It was all very idealistic looking back on it now.

    I knew something wasn't right the minute I reached the top of the coral and saw my mom's car not there, and my neighbors car parked where mom's should have been. My neighbor hardly talked to my family, let alone came over. I was alarmed walking into the quiet house. Our home was rarely quiet. I was one of 5 children, 3 of them being younger then I , and one was only 2 years old. There was always noise and something going on. My neighbor was sitting anxiously on the couch. A look of concern on her face. She was there to give me news that would be the worst I'd ever hear again. The world as I new it, my little castle of country bliss, was about to be pulled down around me. My family was about to receive a hard blow, a tornado just came silently into our lives and ripped each of our hearts apart. From this moment forward, we would all be left to mend the best that we could.

    I came out of the daze of the catastrophe, walking into Elks Rehabilitation hospital. I was there to see my baby sister. She had just had a freak accident, pinching her spine into mush at her T 12 vertebrae. Her and my brother had been playing outside and in moments the chest press that had been there for months, came out of the cradle and slammed into her small toddler body. My sweet baby sister was lying, dark circles under her eyes, tubes coming from her arms, in a sterile, over sized, metal crib. It smelled of Lysol and plastic. She was slow and lethargic. Her sunken, drugged eyes looked up at me, full of the pain she had just endured. Her chubby baby hand reached for me as her face grew into a wide, happy grin. My heart broke at that moment. And reflecting on it now. I realize it has never completely mended. All of us lost our baby that day. My baby sister would forever have pain as a companion. Her best friend for the rest of her life would be pain. She would be intimately connected, and know all of it's idiosyncrasies. They would hold hands while out on the town, they would sing songs together on a rainy day, they would cry broken heartedly in the dark. This was my sisters life. She was about to embark on a arduous journey. She would have to be brave, a lion heart.

    My families hearts were broken too. The tornado had done a beautiful job of scattering our minds and hearts to the winds and shredding them like in a wood chipper. The first big blow after the accident, was my dad falling into a hole from the hurt. Mom kept her whits to help us all put on our dust masks while it settled. I never saw my parents again. The two ambitious, attentive and fun-loving parents I had before the storm where replaced with sad, guilt ridden aliens. My dad once a full of Moxie entrepreneur full of bear stories and silliness, was hardly ever around again and the nightly bed time stories were never heard again. My mother was hardly present due to therapy appointments and the need to work at times. It was as if my parents had lost their faith, their faith in life being what you make it. We were taught that with a positive attitude and hard work anything was possible. Well, that just wasn't the truth anymore. We also lost our beloved cabin on the lake, in KP Cove that year, our oasis in the mountains, our heaven. None of us wanted to go up there anyway. We would grief this loss much later, and it would always be a sore in our hearts later as adults. We lost our house next. No more running through the pasture to catch our ponies, no more watching tremendous wind storms, safe in our log home, no more horse back rides down to dry creek, no more sitting by the wood stove at night listening to coyotes. It was gone. Our baby sister was gone. Our family was gone. Our lives were gone. It was over. The end.

    My memories of this time immediately after my sisters accident are vague, they are  fragments sewn loosely together with thin thread. When I go back to the most painful memories in my childhood they are all knit up in this smoky web, this vague, painful time where no memories exist.

   The fond memories started to come later on. After the hospital, after the dust settled on the wreckage. We pulled some threads together and started slowly assembling a life.  Achingly joy started creeping back in again. My baby sister soon had laughs and genuine four year old smiles and squeals of pure love.

    We doted on this sweet little sister that needed us now for more then just rough housing and piggy backs. There were braces and crutches to wrestle on, our favorite was tugging to tight of tights up over chubby thighs while laughing about rolls. There were catheters to figure out and big scares to smooth our fingers over. There were ways to get our sister from one place to another in a fashion that was as fun and efficient as possible.  We had to watch for burns on her feet, the hot tail pipe of the Honda 90 was undetected on her sweet, numb, baby feet. There were constant trips to Elks for therapy and she was enrolled in preschool there too. We had to be “ mindful of her back", and " You kids quick being so rough with your sister." Grandma would loudly remind us, as we drug our little sister around on a blanket on the floor. We pull her over the bumpy yard in the wagon and jostle her in the milk crate on the back of the motorcycle through the pasture. When I was 12 years old, my grandpa taught me how to ride the Honda Trail 90. Being out in the country, this was a dream. I could cruise up and down the dirt roads, ride to a friends quicker than running, and give rides to my exuberant younger siblings. By this time, there was one more added to the clan. We were now a clan of 6. The baby sister was no longer the baby. The tiara was passed to real baby of the bunch, and wonderfully the fun companion to my other little baby sister. They were inseparable. If you gave one a ride, then the other had to have one too. So, it was competition for the most laughs and adventure at all times. I'd ride my little sisters around on the Honda for hours. Through the fields, down the roads and over to see our neighbors horses or any old thing that would bring the most entertainment. Those days were full of joy.

    The tornado had been mostly forgotten by my 12th year, and it was the good ole days of playing kick the can way past dark at grandma and grandpa's place in the summer, and being pulled through the snow, with my dad, behind the horses in the winter. The memories of this time come flowing into view. There are so many, they are vying for top place. We had made it out alive. We had put enough pieces together to at least limp and most of the time skip forward.

    There is more pain in my growing up then I care to admit at times. We moved a lot and my parents struggled to make things normal. I think they were blown apart more intensely than us resilient kids. I look back at my memories and I know I have seen and felt great pain, and hurt and devastation. I also look back and know, through it all and maybe in spite of it all. At it's most exquisite, possible, ability, there is a seed of tremendous joy. This is the stuff, the stuff that gives me and my family the strength and ability to rise out of shit and heart break and to thrive. I have been through some really stupid and lame times in my life. And still, I believe in majik, and love, and beauty. I know what it looks like and feels like to lose it all, to die and to come back to life. I know, because I died once. My baby sister died once. My family died once. And we lived again. 
    It may seem clique, and I know my sister hates being an inspiration, but she is mine. There have been many times in my life where I say, “ If she can do it” or “ What the fuck am I complaining about?” Life is a mystery, someone said, and we never know when it might end or if a house is going to land on our heads. The only thing I do know for certain is, we live and we can chose how we live. We can truly live or we can just live. I already chose along time ago, while picking up after a storm, the kind of living I wanted. I wanted to truly live to take a bite out of it all. I never knew when a storm might hit again. I think I taught my children to do the same. I can only wish. That is my wish for my family too.

I love you family. I want you all to live and to truly live. I adore you all. I love you Lace, I am a better person because of who you are, and all you endure & have over come. 

THIS FALL HAS BEEN AN INTERESTING ONE. GOING SLOWLY INWARD AND INTO THE YING OF THIS TIME OF YEAR, I HAVE FOUND MYSELF THINKING AND FEELING SOME WONDERFUL THINGS. I'M SPENDING TIME WITH WONDERFUL PEOPLE, AND BEING A PART OF SOME EXTRAORDINARY MOMENTS THAT BRING TRUTH UNFOLDING BEFORE ME. ITS NOT SUMMER OR SPRING AND YET, AT THIS TIME OF CLOSING AND DYING AND SHIFTING, I FIND MYSELF OPENING, BLOOMING AND DANCING IN NEW AND BEAUTIFUL UNCHARTED TERRITORY.
I'VE BEEN FULL OF QUESTIONS AND TREMENDOUS LAUGHS AND UNKNOWNS...AND WONDERFUL THINGS.
LIFE IS SO SHORT, WE HAVE BUT MOMENTS REALLY. MOMENTS TO MAKE WITH OUR TRUE SELVES AND WITH OUR HEARTS OPEN AND WILLING. 
WE TAKE RISKS AND STEP ON TO GROUND THAT IS UNMAPPED AND WITHOUT NAME. TO BE IN THE UNKNOWN, TO SWIM IN IT'S WATERS, TO LIVE PASSIONATELY AND WITH BRAVERY IS TRUE LIFE.
WHAT OTHER WAY IS THERE TO BE? AT LEAST FOR THIS WOMAN, THERE IS NO OTHER WAY. LOOK IT IN THE EYES, SAY YES, AND WALK FORWARD OR LIFT MY ARMS TO THE HEAVENS AND SAY, THANK YOU, THANK YOU FOR EVERY MOMENT I AM GIVEN AND EVERY MOMENT FULL OF JOY AND WONDERMENT AND SHARE IT. SHARE IT.
SOME OF MY MOST FAVORITE MOMENTS THIS FALL CAPTURED I'LL SHARE. AND... THERE ARE SO MANY NOT CAPTURED, THAT HAVE CAPTURED ME.


MY SISTER'S BIRTHDAY DINNER

 KRIS DOTY

WHITE TRASH BURGDORF

APPLE BERRY STRAWBERRY!

DAHLIAS

THIS GUY

LIKE A VILLAIN

THIS STUFF

YES

MOMENTS SEEN

SHARING SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL WITH SOMEONE SPECIAL

THIS

QUIET MOMENTS

GOOD STUFF

SPELLBINDING

BEING REMINDED

SWEETNESS

THIS PLACE

MI FEENIE

SKIES

IF I'M TERRIFIED, I KNOW I'M CLOSE TO MY HEARTS TRUTH

FEENA GROWING UP AND BEING MY FRIEND

IT'S SO SIMPLE, AT TIMES IT SEEMS LUDICROUS.
LIFE. IT'S SO SIMPLE.  WE MAKE IT COMPLICATED AND TIRESOME BY OUR OVER THINKING AND OUT DOING, AND FOR WANTING MORE AND NOT BEING SATISFIED WITH WHAT IS RIGHT IN FRONT OF US.
I'M SO GRATEFUL FOR THESE SIMPLE THINGS. AND MY ABILITY TO HAVE PASSION. AND FOR LAUGHING AT SOMETHING YOU BOTH THINK IS FUNNY, DOING WHAT FEELS FUN AND ADVENTUROUS, BEING THE GOOFBALL. LOVE BEING HELD SO TIGHTLY, AND IT'S NOT ENOUGH. I SO ADORE SMILES AIMED AT ME AND KISSES SHARED IN SINCERITY.

FOR MOMENTS WITH MY SISTER WHEN AT TIMES IT IS UNKNOWN HOW LONG I HAVE WITH HER. I LOVE THAT MY SON TOOK THE LEAP AND WENT TO THE JUNGLE. I'M GRATEFUL FOR DANCE AND IT'S ABILITY TO BRING ME TO MY HEART AND TO MY JOY. MY MOMENTS IN THE DARK WITH FEENA TALKING AND KISSING GOOD NIGHT.

LIFE, MY FAVORITE. IT SCARES THE HELL OUT OF ME AND CUTS ME TO THE BONE, AND PUSHES ME TO MY KNEES. EVEN SO,  I'M GRATEFUL FOR IT'S TREMENDOUS ABILITY TO GIVE WONDER, AWE, INSPIRE! FOR THE WAY IT ALLOWS FOR SHARING OF LOVE AND JOY AND SWEETNESS BEYOND WORDS!
IT'S MY FAVORITE.

LIFE...IS A FUNNY THING.

WE GO THROUGH IT BLIND SOMETIMES...BLIND TO ALL THE MIRACLES IT SHOWS US EVERYDAY.

WE PASS THROUGH IT DAY AFTER DAY AND SOMETIMES WE NEVER EVEN STOP TO LOOK AROUND AND WONDER AT WHAT IT ALL IS AND HOW WE'RE BEING IN IT.

DO WE ASK OURSELVES HOW WE WANT TO BE IN THIS DAY? AND THEN ADJUST ACCORDINGLY? DO WE ASK OURSELVES WHAT KIND OF PERSON DO I WANT TO BE TODAY? 

 DO WE ASK...HOW WILL I LOVE TODAY?

DO WE ASK OURSELVES HOW WILL MY ACTIONS TODAY EFFECT MY FUTURE AND MY FUTURE SELF?

THESE ARE ALL THINGS I'VE BEEN ASKING MYSELF LATELY. I WANT TO GET TO THE HEART OF WHAT MY SOUL & HEART TRULY DESIRE. I WANT TO SEE WHAT I'M CAPABLE OF AND I WANT TO BECOME A TRUE ADVOCATE IN MY OWN LIFE, AND FOR THOSE THAT I CARE FOR MOST, IN THIS SHORT LIFE.

I WANT TO LOVE MORE...REALLY LOVE...THE UNCONDITIONAL KIND...THE TRANSCENDING KIND, THE KIND OF LOVE THAT CHANGES YOUR DNA, THE KIND THAT TAPS YOU INTO A GREATER SOURCE AND THAT MAKES LOVE OOZE OUT OF YOUR POURS AND INTO EVERYTHING YOU ARE AND DO...AT LEAST MOST OF WHAT YOU DO...I KNOW I'M A MERE HUMAN. AND I AM WELL AWARE OF MY FEARS. DO I HAVE ENOUGH GRIT? DO I HAVE WHAT IT TAKES TO TRULY CLIMB THIS MOUNTAIN?... CAN I LET GO AND LET SOMEONE TAKE CARE OF ME WHEN I'M FALLING?...DO I TRUST?

 I WANT TO BE LOVED...TRULY LOVED...ALL OF ME. I WANT TO BE UNDERSTOOD AND SEEN, OR AT LEAST ASKED ABOUT MY HEART AND HOW IT SEES AND FEELS THIS LIFE.

I AM FULL...AND AM READY FOR THE OVERFLOW...THE RADIATING OUTWARD...IN ALL DIRECTIONS...SEEPING INTO THE CREVICES OF MY LIFE...THE OUTPOURING...

...OF LOVE 

I'M ENOUGH AND I'M ABSOLUTELY FUCKING TOUGH ENOUGH...
AND I'M TENDER ENOUGH...I AM ENOUGH...I AM...LOVE