The Dark Silence

Before it hit me I too was a nay sayer. The dark silence that isn't spoken of in mixed company....

any company but whispered hushes, downward glances to the poor sap who has actually made it through. Than there is the selfish son of a bitch who was so thoughtless to hurt those they loved. Checked out with not so much as a thought to anyone else's feelings, thoughts, consideration. What sparked this writing..... was me reading a blog today. People talking about those who blatantly do not value life... who try to commit suicide.... or succeed in the act. Never was pain or desperation or grief brought into this...... just the de-valuing of life, which ties it up neatly. We can all go home now.

I can only speak from this writers perspective, but this was not the case for me. Never for one second when contemplating suicide many years ago did I ever take it lightly. Never. The pain was

indescribable...... they shoot horses don't they? I could not find my way home, and believe me, not for one second for lack of trying. I am pounding these keys harder than you can imagine. All of the emotion that I have kept inside for so long...... so I could appear normal and balanced after so many years of darkness.

The shame I am supposed to carry. Why? Please tell me to the judge and jury who decides the type of person I am. A heart that now has light and joy..... bounce. The ability to communicate clearly with you now. Would you have liked me then? When I was dark and sad and hopeless. Consumed with never ending thoughts of death. Every morning as I awoke.... and evening as I lay my head to sleep. Would I have been part of the undesirables you would have looked the other way at... because my pain would have been to great to bear? You would have wished for me to go away and come back when I was fixed..... all better. Well. this is me. Thirteen years in the making of getting all better. I assure you, it is so easy to want to dismiss

those who are in such an unbearable amount of pain and darkness.

We have known our place. Our darkened rooms, where we grieve and try desperately to keep it away from everyone so as not to infect. We try not to have those dark nights of the soul that go on and on. We wonder what is wrong with us..... why can we just not be happy and fill our hearts with joy and all the gifts God has given us. We are not unaware. The river is wide....

We cannot figure out how to cross over. We pull away, with the disdain we see in some of your eyes. Our shame fills oceans. Yours for us, adds to our skies. We are blind in the dark. Forgive us for not finding our way. We want to fit in and be normal more than you will ever imagine. We want the pain lifted.

My pain lifted through love and forgiveness and yes, medication. Am I even less now?

I own my brains malfunction in this lifetime. I function now with thoughts of a future I never

knew existed. Too many ghosts from the past haunted me. I am a divine being made in God's

delight. I have a right to be here, to love, laugh, tell my truth. Feel my pain. Release it.

Lift any feelings of guilt or shame. Feeling bad about wanting to come so close to taking my own life. There was always something divine guiding and protecting me. I begged on my knees

for it...... in the worst of it. Even when I begged for death I always wanted life.

I merely wanted the pain to stop. If you were to ask those who were in pain, it is the pain they want to stop. Not always their lives....... the pain. Compassion and love are amazing qualities of

what are really needed. The greatest one......... being heard. Listening sometimes is a good place to start. It is after all, just a thought.

He

Whenever he is close, in that instance I feel him. The smile that creeps across my lips, at the mere thought of him. I've never understood the spell he casts on me. No one makes me laugh as he does. My face lights up when I am around him,  the warmth coming from such a deep place in my heart. He whispers something in my ear  holding me so tight..... I forget everything. Looking into my soul with those gentle blue eyes, it's over for me.  Outrunning them many a time I have tried, when he has gotten too close to my comfort zone. When fear has gripped me so tight,  strangling my senses, I push him so far away, frightened I will  never find my way back to him. As his voice calls to me with such strength, leading me back into the safety of all that is him.  He knows every wound from the girl/woman in me. My dark places I hide and run for cover as well as  my sunny days  that never end. He knows my rhythms and understands  it is all part of  what makes me... me.

As I relax my head and let it fall back into his chest, he runs his fingers through my hair. Stroking his artist fingers down my neck I begin to calm. He studies me with such trained eyes. I worry yet  again that I will not measure up to the dimensions of perfection that he paints. I know those eyes.....scanning every inch of me. I have to believe he sees  beauty, not the opposite through eyes of compassion and love. He assures me of his  contentment, what he sees he says he loves. This frightens me, as I close my eyes letting the tears flow. His healing words of passion, declaring a love he has never known in this lifetime. I repeat back to him the same words of love. I am filled with such humility to know he loves me... simply for me.

He calls to me, I cannot resist. I try. How can this be? Even when I am angry at him, saying unkind things he looks at me with those penetrating eyes and forgives me. He says the parts of my mother's unkindness are left over in me in warfare. My silence he begins to understand. It is not out of cruelty, the child in me  profoundly grieving, frightened. She has no way to speak. The shy girl still learning to become a woman needs prompting. He laughs about how proper I can be at times, in the next moment can't believe what a brazen daredevil I am. He understands having a mother  de- feminized her daughters kept me cautious....... he loves when I break loose with wild abandon.

He loves our children so passionately which makes me love him even more. How can I still love this man so much? I have known him since I was a girl of 20....... and want more of him. He fascinates me, enrages me, frustrates me, makes me laugh so hard with the wit and dry humor that disarms me. I am so obvious and easy. He makes me want to chase him like a school girl. He has walked through every part of life with me, I am stronger because of his love. 

We have known great joy and sorrow together. He is the one I chose.... as he chose me. My heart is opening more every day. Having him by my side I am a better me.I blossom with his artists eye each and every day. He is helping me see myself in a new light.He is the one I want to wake up with every morning. Lay my head down with at night. He has stolen my heart. He is my love, my best friend, he is my Raymond.

Embracing Friendship

I am embracing friendship. This year I am learning how to have friends that don't betray.......

and in return I don't betray. Foreign concept....... Heaven on Earth. My life is changing in

ways I would never believed possible, not for one second. Sitting here writing this.... excited.

Thinking about the fact that I am back in the land of the living. Fun conversations with females again. Deep, intellectual, silly and childlike all in one paragraph. Well.... we are in internet

age. I hated it- rejected it. I wouldn't do it. No way, held out. Didn't get it. Now I am hooked!

Face Book has even re-connected me to family members that I could never have been able to

in a comfortable way...... it eased me on down the road. I love putting my head phones on and blaring music..... of course James Taylor will usually take center stage. He just takes me there.

Opening my heart to the possibilities, that I absolutely ruled out from very bad choices of past days. I know now I needed a very long siesta from life to get my priorities straight.

Trust has been a very big deal in my female relationships. It all started with the Mother Ship.

The trust was not there as a child. It was not instilled in me, nor any of my siblings from either parent. I married a very gentle, patient man who has loved me through it all.

The female role never healed as well. I would repeat the same wounded relationships....

re-infecting the pain that needed to heal, but I didn't see my way out of. Over and over again I would put myself in the same situation expecting a different outcome. Welcome to the true head bangers ball. Ouch, when would I learn? I always thought I needed to do all the work,

beg for love. I was a very well trained dog from so many years of Catholic School.

I was obedient, didn't make waves..... I saw what happened to John Lloyd and the others after

they came back from the Principal's Office. I had the fear of God drilled in me. Trust wasn't even high on the list. Survival came in tops for me. That was all. Just to survive. I did not have

high hopes, dreams, aspirations. I just didn't want soap crammed down my throat again, for

whatever perceived sin I committed at home. So we had it coming and going. Survival.

That was all it was to me. Friendships were whoever was nice. Period. I was a follower.

Very afraid of my voice, power. What power? I felt so stripped and devoid of power.

I only achieved my power in sneaky ways. Like the typical good Catholic Girls I knew.

Girls Gone Wild. When you got us away from home, our parents, we were so restrained there,

we were already going to Hell..... scary, out of control..... all bets were off. May as well have a good time....... Girls Gone Wild is an understatement. My friendships seemed to

always have very controlling females at the helm. Hmmmmmmmm? How could that possibly be? A cold, indifferent, controlling mother. Hard to figure out. I wouldn't have noticed caring, kind people. I had to work hard to have you help me feel like shit.

So, my friendships were not always built on the greatest of foundations. Neither was I.

I used as much as was used. It was an equal collaboration, although it has taken me many moons to own this. To welcome love, goodness, equality....... sincerity. Whoa, that usually

sent me packing ......... pronto. I was the last to know this little tid bit. It was always the other guys trip. Uh huh! Well, here I am now- scathed, war wounds...... open heart of a child, as well.

I am ready for it all. I know I am ready to learn the kindergarden way that I never did. Too shy.

I want to play and laugh.... and be friends. Risk and ask for help and be scared and all the stuff that goes with it. The joy, the giving....... knowing I am now capable of being a good and consistent friend who not only can stick around.... being the commitment phobe. I want to.

I want to be a friend. Treasure all the roller coaster rides coming my way. I feel so much less fear, knowing it was merely conditioning from a scared girl who got the title of being my mom.

The more I forgive this scared , sad little girl, the more I get to play. I embrace it all.

Frances Daughters

I always thought this should be a name of a book..... or a heavy metal rock band.

As luck would have it, the title of Frances Daughter's belongs to a couple of gals I know.

Three sisters actually......... myself being the youngest member of this group.

This band we formed has bonded at times out of necessity and survival in the early days

of Frances Daughter's conception. The oldest sister took the unpopular role of mother

in this trio. Again not out of desire..... simple necessity. A budding young lady in her right,

the eldest knew to tow the line with this unruly crew.

The middle gal in Frances Daughters'..... oh she was quite the tiger. Full of life and energy,

this little lady was a little rascal. Being the middle daughter, observer, she had her own way

of dealing with pesky people and problems. This middle child had thoughts and feelings and opinions...... that typically did not resonate with the heads of the house hold. She definitely had her own stamp, mark...... this little gal wasn't taking anyones guff! Oh no...... she saw things as they were.

Frances Daughter's had one more little gal yet in the litter, the youngest..... hmmmmmm.

This little gal was very shy and influenced by her big sisters. She at times was like a puppy dog, lost and in need of direction. Following the lead of the older two girls.

Her heart was perhaps not as toughened as Frances two older daughters.

They already learned the ropes. They were pros by an early age. Being one of Frances Daughter's required much meat tenderizer to the heart..... the youngest hadn't gotten this memo yet, she was too busy riding her bike around the neighborhood I suspect.

Daydreaming their lives away in the tiny bedroom the three of us shared. Sometimes rolling around in the lime green shag carpeting for what seemed an eternity....... Oh this trio, quite playful.

The younger and middle one, the headaches they would give the oldest.

Never lacking new and exciting adventures, they thought

borrowing the family station wagon in the middle of the night was always a brilliant idea.

Even more brilliant because neither sister had drivers licenses. Add some friends to the mix,

I feel the joy taking over as I write. We loaded up that contraption with teenage giggling,

bubble gum chewing teen angels, rolled that baby out the drive way........ but this time fate wasn't so kind to two of Frances Daughter's. Off in the distance as we had that wagon perched

and ready for business, the sounds of many police sirens were headed our way.

As if matters were not bad enough, it seemed as though a dozen cats had gathered around us.

That is a 14 year olds mind, maybe there were five..... but it felt like twelve. We had the usual omens.... this was a bad idea. The key would not fit in the lock of the car door. We were not having it, our midnight pleasure ride awaited us, and that was that.

Several of Temple City's finest Sheriffs surrounded our wagon, and out we went.

My mom heard the knock..... how my dad didn't I will never know. A couple of sheriffs came in,

and my middle sister wasn't having it! I was scared out of my mind, but middle sis was in for it.

One officer asked my mom if she wanted them to haul her off to jail over night. She was a mouthy one, they said something to that affect. I am chuckling as I write this, thinking about that cop wanting to haul off my sister to teach her a lesson. My mom said no...... but my poor older sister was the jailer for both of us.

I had big plans of Magic Mountain Theme Park the next day. Well, don't tell Frances' youngest daughter to red light that one and not expect drama. Definitely was going to do myself in if I couldn't go. Like I said , just a little drama. The mother tells the eldest to keep vigil..... and off to bed she goes. That's pretty much how it went. She handled things, we got used to it.

Good times for her. The smarty mouth one I believe needed some talking to. Oldest one was having good times that night.

Frances Daughter's bonded over the strangest things throughout the years. Fought like

rabid animals, taunting each other........ laughing and having our own humor that no one else would or could understand, for being Frances Daughter's. Feeling the aloneness and fear,

yet not identifying it's name....... being one of her children. Wanting safety and warmth, love.

Our humor got us through many a tough time, and also belittled true heartache.

Tough exterior we wore .... we all learned through humor, distancing ourself from emotions.....

people. There was no place for real tenderness being one of Frances Daughter's.

We are still Frances Daughter's, always will be. Time has passed, our hearts have softened.

The pain of having a mother who never knew.... or knows how to love will always

be part of the scars we bear. Fortunately we see those are her wounds, as we age.

Frances Daughter's have learned to reunite ...... to forgive. To understand it was never

ours, the heavy sack we carried all this time. The pain in Frances heart is something we will never know. To not know how to hold your child, to sooth their fears...... wipe away your daughters tears. I am Frances youngest daughter. My heart bled for so long, wondering why was I so unworthy of her love. I gave and gave and gave to my mother until I almost disappeared.

It appeared I did not make a dent. I release her to those above who know greater than me.

I surrender. I am merely her daughter. I know I will now meet her again in another form.

No longer can I hold on to this pain. I will always be Frances Daughter.

What Makes Me Laugh

Trying not to laugh always makes me laugh, without a doubt. Playing the laughing game with my family..... making faces and sounds, where you can't make a peep. That's when I lose it and roar.

Why is that funny. Sitting in a very quiet place , thinking of things I am not supposed to be thinking of..... I am hysterical. When I was young sitting in church, I had this odd fascination with shoulders. There was nothing else to do, so I would just stare at all the different backs and shoulders sitting, standing in front of me. Suits, dresses, too tight blouses bursting with sausage like flesh erupting into those shoulders. I don't know why this fascinated me.

Millicent Friendly and Mr. Green sitting in front of me, oh so proper. I always wondered what happened when they got home out of their Sunday finery....... and Millicent got the lime green jello out, Mr. Green put on his retiring robe. It is so ridiculous, but I would be so bored in church I would play these little games with myself. It all centered around their shoulders.

Their entire lives, and the lives of their children. Broad shoulders, sloping shoulders....

you name it. I am laughing now thinking what little it takes to amuse me. I realize I have part simpleton gene, but I am kinda diggin it now. The never getting past 7th grade humor has served me well in times of true boredom.

I can laugh when I think of stories of old in my mind over and over again.... replayed.

Childhood hijinx..... those were the best that I really belly laugh over. Inappropriate

laughter to this day makes me laugh the most. I agree, very immature, but it still gets me.

Not the kind at someone else's expense, just where you cannot control your emotions,

you know you are going to burst....... like I said, in a very quiet serious room.

But it's not serious for any reason, it just is. That's what makes it funnier, you have no idea why you are whispering in reverence in some weird room that is used normally for xerox machines.

Bathrooms are absolutely hysterical. Now if I had it my way, I would have a full blown Orchestra in every Public Restroom. Trying to act cool, and not make a sound, that is what is the funniest thing to me. According to sources...... being male, those rules don't matter.

What happens in Public Restrooms .... just happens. Not the same rules for the female species. Oh no, we try to act cool. That lightning and thunder out of the 3rd stall did not happen.

If we are lucky enough to be with a friend who gets the joke....... we look at each other and it begins. First a snicker, and it is over. We beat feet out of that bathroom sooooo fast to the

sounds of "What the hell was that?"

These things that are only human nature..... which we desperately try to cover up and pretend

aren't happening. I think that's why they make me laugh so hard. Having been a waitress in my early years, that really gave me an eyeful of pretending things aren't real! Or.... what made me laugh what was all too real. One time I had just taken an order from a table, and had to use the restroom. As I was doing my business, I hear,"And my mama wants an orange juice with....blah, blah, blah, too." All the while this young girls head is staring at me upside down.... underneath the bathroom stall. That was funny, not at the time, but it was one of those things in life that is so incredulous..... how could that have just happened?

Hmmm.... I sense a bathroom humor theme here. Probably because we are not supposed to talk about such things. The word such things makes me laugh! I guess I love to pick a part

words, thoughts, things. Remember, I was amused beyond imagination by peoples shoulders.

I still am. Things that make me laugh....... My family, watching their crinkly smiles turn into full blown 4th of July rockets of joy when something delights them. My friends telling stories they know are gonna get me every time, and then some. Ironies of life......

Doing something just a little sneaky like an innocent child...... a little Dennis The Mennacy,

and watching peoples reactions! The way my hubby words things, the way I try to word things correctly and it comes out the opposite. Really dry humor..... and of course, always 7th grade humor. That gets me every time.

My Blossoming Heart

How I held on so tight with the greatest fear. Horrified to let go...... just one more minute,

please. It would have been impossible for me to understand what I was bidding farewell to.

That only tightened my grip. Sobs ripped through my body at the thought of having to

release you. I knew in this form we were no good for each other. Control, manipulation,

fear...... ignorance. We had known each other our lifetimes, we knew it was time.

I breathed in one more deep, mournful breath. It was time to cut the cord. End all the pain we had caused one another. I closed my eyes and let those above me lead. The tears flowed.....

as I finally felt your pain. My chest hurt, knowing, feeling the anguish I had been a part of.

Blaming you for so long, not understanding or caring or listening. Those sad eyes told a story

of their own. I looked the other way. Your broken heart, crying desert sand. I did not recognize these tears, so foreign to me.

Only in the silence and absolution..... bowing my head, the shame came. Knowing I still

wanted to hurt your heart.... only moments before. I let my heart feel it finally, your sadness

and fear. I didn't know. I couldn't understand your wound that I kept poking. I am sorry with my heart, my soul. Forgive me one day if you will. I am better for knowing you. I grew as a child, into who I am today having your love. We tussled and tugged at each others hearts,

and delighted in one another's laughter. You taught me how to stand tall, even when it hurt.

Forgive me for not loving you how you needed it. If I could take back walking away......

and leaving you as I did, I would. I was so selfish in my youth.

I did not know what love was or how to love. I only knew how to run and follow the razzle dazzle.

My heart blossomed the moment I felt your pain.

My Voice

Learning to be comfortable, really comfortable in my own skin is an on going process.

The more I think I have something totally figured out, the web I have weaved becomes very tangled. It looked so simple at first, but I forget the intricate layers it took to make. I think the same thing can be said about my voice. I am learning to stretch... speak up. It's so easy when I

am angry or excited. Nothing can stop thunderous, foot stomping, gut rolling laughter.

That is so easy. When I need to really speak up than this little mouse voice comes out. Especially.....

when someone with an authoritarian figure tone, that pushes their weight around. A slight stutter or lisp tumbles out from where? How did that just happen, I was fine two minutes ago. I am just learning I can take a moment, collect my thoughts, still have my dignity.

I am realizing I have kept this giant rule book in my head, always made a joke about it. Hmmm.

It is always in my car I have my great eye openers. Today another hit me hard.

The would and should cousins, again..... who invited them back? My mind can get so

black and white when the absolute team takes over. Black and white can step in so quickly

when I am unsure of my footing. The rule book that once again I insist I am only kidding about

from my past, is so clearly center stage and in need of attention. My greatest teachers I would have to say are those authoritarian figure voices. A throw back from Catholic School Days.

The finger pointing hell and damnation is coming out of my pores and purging through

those I now come in contact with. That voice. Now allowing me the opportunity to

stand in the sunshine that was always mine. The voice so pure and true, mine too.

They were always mine, I just needed a reminder. I have needed a lot of reminders.

I really forgot. A lot of those voices have shaken my foundation. I did not realize they were here to teach me. To wake me up and shake the shame and doubt off. The tears were like a rain storm. They cleaned away the years of misunderstandings and cloudiness. This voice I have been given. I laugh so freely and joyously with. I have sobbed uncontrollable tears. I sing my favorite songs loud, with much passion and zest ..... I feel for the person who has to be in ear shot. This voice that professes my love so true to those I hold dear. The same voice that angers quickly.... regrets that anger.

My voice, my words, that can now say no. May still feel bad for that no, but I am loving myself enough to say it. I am learning my words, my heart, I have a right to say how I feel.

I no longer need to hide in the shadows. Everyone has thoughts, feelings.

There is more than enough room for all of us. Overflowing, brimming. It was just a silly childhood myth. We somehow needed to hold on tight. Someone might take what we had.

I used to believe that in the house I grew up in as a child. Now I believe there is so much... and

the playground is just packed with kids waiting to play. Especially this kid.

Wanting to run and kick the ball. Tell secrets and fly kites. Finger paint and dance.

Eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and ride bikes. I want to play. I want to use my voice. The same voice that was too shy to use in my youth. I want to scream from the roof tops,

chase the ice cream truck down the street, yelling stop as loud as I can.

Gratitude

I have so much to say to the people I love and need in my life. Gratitude is a word that pops into my head. I am so grateful for being loved. Really loved. All the way inside where I hide from the world for fear that if you knew the real me you would run so far and fast I would never see you again. Loved for the way I put a blanket on my hubby when he is sleeping on the couch,

and tuck him in. I want to make every moment of that tuck felt...... as I wrap him like a burrito.

The gratitude I have for him.... working so hard for my family every single day. The warmth that

comes from his voice as he wakes me up in the morning, calling out to me,"Reesy your coffee

is ready, just the way you like it, half decaf." I don't know why that makes me giddy after all these years, but it does. Knowing he is waiting for me every morning to wake up and play, before he goes to work. Knowing there will always be a Lifetime movie we have seen 13,ooo

times, and he says he doesn't remember it. There is something so comforting about the coffee and the Lifetime 13,000 time watched shows with him. Because it's him.

Let's not start with the nicknames he calls me. That's his favorite thing.

He loves calling me Reesy. It has grown on me. Because he's calling me it.

I love my Raym. I smile when I think of him. He makes me laugh. He fills my heart.

He loves me, even when I want to abandon ship on myself. He listens to me talk until the cows come home. Even and especially when it is bed time I am like a hyper active irritating kid who wants to play. Let's talk, world events, except that's not my thing. Blah, blah, blah, as he is trying to have gentle slumber. Raym, are you asleep? A playful toss and movement to irritate

just enough." I am now, but in a bit I'll be talking in tongues soon." That's his signal for, don't have a hissy fit when I pass out and you are in the middle of your version of War and Peace. Hmmmm? I love this man who tolerates me and my interesting ways. Has taught me to love the sides of me that I thought were unlovable.

He has helped me find redemption in myself. I have so much gratitude for those I love and hold so dear. Matt who is so kind and patient and so very funny. He makes me laugh.

Matt teaches me time and time again about family. When I stray and get single minded,

he brings the family together, always. His love feels so strong, solid, no torrential

floods or hurricanes could challenge it. His wisdom seems so far beyond his

age, he just is. I am so proud of him, my love for him, it is truly indescribable.

He has stolen my heart even when we bicker and have misunderstandings, Like the true Leo,

Jungle Cats that we are. We roar at each other a little, purr a bit, lick our wounds, and

act cool. Period. Usually one of us cracks and we start laughing. We can't bear being mad at each other. We are very close, can feel each others emotions so strongly. It's even funnier when we try to

act like nothing is wrong. Oh, mercy! I love this boy so much, he makes me think...... he fills my heart. I want to be a better person just knowing him. If he wasn't my child he would still be one of my closest friends. He is something else. I feel so lucky to be his mom.

That Katie. She is one little ball of sunshine. She is like a little lamb. So cuddly and snuggly.

Even when she is 104 and I am 300 I will still hold her and she will be my little baby doll.

Then she needs her fierce independence like her mama. She brings sparkle and playfulness.

She would have disco balls all around our house if she could. She is playful, yet has a depth

that would surprise many. Only those close to her really know her. She does not let on.

Her art, writing, like Matt........ they both just blow me away with their creativity.

She brings out the girliness in me I never knew as a child. She teaches me that it is okay to feel pretty. Her confidence astounds me. Then she becomes a shy little girl. It is quite a combination of the two. Very beautiful to watch her blossoming.

I love watching her with her papa. It brings a great joy to my heart. I never tire of the sight of a girl with her father. She brings such joy to me this heart of mine.

This wonderful fabulous family of mine that I am so eternally grateful for. They teach me every day how to open my heart. Not to take myself and situations so seriously. Just want me to be present. That is the biggest one I am learning. Be here now. Quit ruminating about past people,

hurts, situations. It is insulting and painful to them. Those I loved, given so much energy, thought, time, heartache have long forgotten my pain. I have apologized to my family for my ignorance. For not seeing this clearly sooner.

My gift to them has come this evening as I write. I finally get what be here now means. I love them more than

words can express. These three have made me a better person. I have pushed myself to limits I never knew I could reach. Thinking of them when I felt like giving up, gave me strength. Thank you for loving me from the bottom of my heart. I am so grateful.

So, This Is What It Feels like

I am not so different than most people. Discovering. the good, bad and in-betweeners.

We are all just trying to figure it out. How to enjoy life- survive loss, be the best we can be.

I have tried to run so long from something I cannot outrun. I have decided to stop exhausting myself. It be what it be. Depression. Oh, I said it. There are more components I could address,

but for me it pretty much always will be this bugaboo. I have fought this dragon with

great nobility. No stone left unturned. I do realize what an unpopular topic this is. If I could talk of sunshine and flowers and waterfalls, my heart would

be overjoyed. I am beginning to see a pattern here. Perhaps beginning to accepting myself today a little more. Sitting in a Target parking lot of all places, talking to my sister on the phone.

This is not what I want to do with my life. I already had it buttoned down.

Writing..... no brainer. I now need it. It was a luxury before, now it has become a necessity.

How and when did that happen? I was going to dedicate my life to Hospice.

I am supposed to be there right now, tonight as I am writing these words. I cancelled. Not out of flakiness.

I can't do it right now. My heart is not in it. Not because I don't love it with all my heart.

I have a pulling, tugging, that I have been ignoring. I have not wanted to come forward.

I am so comfortable waiting in the wings. Pushing those I love to their destinations.

I missed my calling. I would have made a great pushy agent. I am great getting in everyone else's biz. Pushing hard. Now it's my turn to push myself hard and be my own agent.

But I don't wanna. Don't feel like it. Can't somebody else do it? Why me? There's enough

other people doing it, they don't need me. Whoever they are. I know the me is scared to step out of my comfort zone. Then what? I am just plain ol' scared. I am scared to stand up and be counted. To tell my Readers Digest version of how I made it out of wanting to constantly

blow my brains out. Day in and day out of hopelessness and complete, utter despair.

I am still wondering what good I have to offer those suffering deep, profound depression and loss. The road has been excruciatingly long, I won't lie. For me, there were no short cuts.

To not acknowledge a chemical imbalance in my brain, there would be no point going on writing this piece. I tried the Tom Cruise approach: just take vitamins. It almost killed me.

I guess this is my feeble attempt of saying no more. Step one. Until you have lived in debilitating depression, please don't tell someone to shake it off. That is not an option for someone suffering a chemical imbalance. It's like telling someone with cancer to cool it with the chemo. How ridiculous is that? Neither is respectful. If a person could shake it off, they sure as shit would! They are already ashamed of themselves and feel weak and less.

All they want is to feel normal. Wake up and pray that the day isn't bleak, black, hopeless.

Sunshine and love and happiness is the daily prayer. It certainly isn't hope for dark clouds and disaster. Tears flow, or a brick wall stays up for years from the sheer weight of the darkness.

The battle. Quite understandable how horrifying and difficult for those who live with someone with overwhelming depression. Especially left undiagnosed, untreated.

I always thought it was my fault, my fathers moods. My mother's mantra, "he's always so moody."

She would make constant announcements that he didn't like crowds. That in it self as her lip would curl in disdain would let us know that something was definitely not normal with him. Didn't everybody like crowds? So it cut short many trips. He was the villain and she would be in tears. We would feel disdain for him and not know why at times. The obvious of course, when he was cruel but so much was seen from her point of view. She would simply say he's just like that. Like what?

What's that mean, and how are we supposed to decipher any of this as kids?

I just always felt like I was doing everything wrong, in a nut shell.

My dad only seemed to look happy when he was smoking his cigs. It seemed like all the

answers to his problems came with each inhale and exhale. The way he looked I thought

world problems could be solved. To this day, I am so fascinated by the look people have when they step out for a smoke. They look out into the cosmos, and seem like they just know.

What that is I have no idea, they just know. It always captured the attention that I could never come close to.

It seemed normal growing up that way. I thought everybody's dad was always bummed out.

It seemed to fluctuate between bummed out or angry. Six kids in the house, things are not going to run like clock work, I am pretty sure. He would get very upset literally over spilled milk. I am angry right now that I have spilled tears on these keys as I type at the burning shame I felt just being a child. Throughout my children's lives, I don't think I have said anything to them when they have spilled something. If I did, my first words would be,"are you okay, did you get hurt"?

I don't know why this ridiculous spilled milk story is hitting me so hard. It just is.

We just wanted to be kids. That's all. Maybe I am getting how hard it has been to live with a severely depressed person. My mother has disliked my father so much. I don't know if he would have ever gotten help because the simplest things were and are battle with him.

It's not even 'pick your battles" with him. Everyone of them has been. "It's too cold to do it. Too hot." You name it , he'd tell you why the answer was no.

Up is down and down is up. Here's the tragedy. I took him seriously. It took me until not too long ago to figure out he is one of the most frightened people on the planet. I probably always knew. Just couldn't own it, too painful. That is my father. Clamping down our whole lives not for any reason but fear.

Now he is old and sad and sweet sometimes. Sometimes hurtful as well.

This is where the depression lies. I think my mother seemed a little happier earlier on.

Now they are both depressed. She more out of lack of mobility. I have to look at his side of the family. Not the happiest group of kids. They were not chipper by nature. I don't think either rocked the Captain Fantastic Ride. Not great genes to begin with!

I feel like I can breath a little more. Truth will set me free. I hope so. I am certainly not out to hurt anyone. I just don't want to hurt anymore, either. Depression. It is what it is.

Stories of how, why. Just stories. Hopefully relatable to some. It's just my experience.

See where it takes me next. Carole King singing in my headphones about love. I accept.

My Heart

Full to the brim, overflowing. Crushed, withered, smashed beyond repair.

Dancing with delight, my heart. How I try to monitor this beating, living creation inside

my body. The more I try to put a rope on it, rein it in, the wilder it beats. The more fearful and out of control it seems to become. Rather than just letting it be. Giving it space, dignity.

Trusting that it knows precisely what to do. It has come here with a specific mission to accomplish. I need to let go and let it be.

Holding my breath in great tension does not make my hearts job, intentions any easier.

Pumping harder, faster- fear mounting from lack of oxygen to my brain. Why does it take me so long to realize that this is normal. I am not from the Venutian solar system.

I am just a human being who gets frightened and anxious by people and situations,

on occasion. In admitting my heart is here to serve me, could in fact

calm me as well. Comfort me. Allow love and kindness to enter the terror zone, when things get overwhelming. Amazingly beautiful heart that actually beats in other non- Venutians.

Just human beings having experiences. I think maybe we like to look at each other as Venutian sometimes, when someone might be overly emotional, or "feeling it," when we're not.

Then sometimes the rules of engagement change. We have to be so immersed in that event, emotion, struggle, complete bliss as well. When we are severely bummed out, who wants to

see someone blissed . Share in my misery, how dare you! When we are running out for a quick errand, and have those sweats on, you know the ones reserved for watching TV, ice cream eating- not meant for human eyes. Maybe this is when Venutian living would come in handy.

This is probably their dress up wear. You bump into judge and jury chic, you know the one.

Everyone has at least one of those. You realize your hair is looking, well, hmmm....

lets just say interesting today. You just wanted to make a quick dash into Blockbusters .

There she stands, our perceived judge crew. Looking over at what was left at a pool of shrinking,

shamed us. Why, because we didn't put the right costume on to hit Ralph's and Blockbusters.

We forgot , the audacity of us that we were just living our lives, and lived as is.

If we were to look from judge and jury's life, really went inside, what a different song and dance we would hear, see. Nothing like the one we thought. The melting pool of us...... slowly slithers out of Blockbuster. The Judge we could never imagine carries wounds so deeply in her heart. The record playing over and over in her constant stereo brain might go something like this. Why can I never get it right. Standing in front of the mirror for hours not out of vanity, but agony. Not being able to "get it perfect", "get it right". That's the interesting

thing about perception . The old tapes we play in our heads over and over. Both of these women probably knew each other from high school. Now well into their, let's say 30's. Yet it continues, the fear, the perception of how they felt. Doesn't ever have to have been accurate from high school days.

The feelings carry over. Our hearts hurt. The wound stays buried deep. Then we put on our cozy sweats that everyone loves to be cozy in.

Both these gal pals are amazing. If they could see that each is really admiring the other for different reasons. Sweats momma is envied by judge, because she seems so relaxed and comfy in her own skin. She wishes she could let down some. Sweats momma looks at judge and

wonders how she always has it so pulled together. If only just like in a movie, we could trap these two in an elevator for an hour or two, let them hash it out, heart to heart.

Not the illusion of what we think, or get stuck in. But let our hearts really tell our tale.

How afraid we are sometimes. We spoke out of turn. How overjoyed we really are,

even though we look like deer in the head lights. That we never loved deeper. So very

horrified to trust. Be careful with my tender heart. Just love me. Please, don't hurt me.

Our amazing, trusting, fearful, broken, overflowing, beating hearts. To experience all of those emotions, and a zillion more if we are willing to go along for the ride.

We have the ability to open wide and let the love flow in and out from all directions. Feel the lightness, pure joy. All so true and not without risks.

The alternative, to keep it clamped down, dark, shut tight. No air, definitely risk free.

Damp , empty, yearning, sad. Then the in between of just working on it. That's a good comfort

zone. Boundaries, trusting as we go. Feeling it out. Letting in who feels good, safe, deserving of our trust. I think most people have varying degrees of comfort between all three. I sure do. Depending on my levels of .... fear, trust, love. I do know we are all doing the best we can. This heart of mine. I am liking it more the older I get.

.

Unkindness

I happen to know two pretty amazing women. They make unlikely friends, trust me.

Throw me in as a third in this triangle, and now we are getting downright bizarre.

Their souls are as pure and gentle as you can imagine. Had we all kinder pasts, life may have provided a gentler cushion.

Each one of them are tremendous mothers, which is remarkable in itself, coming from their

upbringing. Their children are their worlds. I think they would carry the sins of their forefathers more than willingly, to have their children healthy and happy. These women would come and go in each others lives, throughout the years, as friendships do. Taking twists and turns. More than an occasional bumpy dip. Always love way down deep, even and especially when met with indifference.

We had all grown up in the same neighborhood. We knew each other's wounds intimately, and how to poke at them. Especially when all the seasonings in the stew that was brewing

in our little kettles of emotions were working overtime. As we grew older, we married, had children, and the separation began to occur. My two friends stayed in touch, and I moved in a different direction. Over the years, we would cross paths, but my two pals remained close.

I missed them, and at times felt somewhat envious of the bond that they had formed.

I would try to go back home, to our old neighborhood, but I always just felt bad.

Then I would feel bad for feeling bad. I wanted to be like them, and be able to go

back home, shut it down and not react. Like I said, we all had very similar backgrounds.

I always felt as though something was wrong with me, that I didn't handle going back into the war zone of our past very well. That is an understatement. My friends always seemed geared up and ready for battle. The right arsenal, gas masks on and ready for the fight. I felt like I was still in my jammies. It seemed like they knew how to play the game of survival better.

It would puzzle me to no end. How? What was I doing wrong?

They are truly the sweetest hearted people I have met throughout my life. Only now,

I see, I know what it has taken, what it took from them to have to shut down themselves to that level. Having to gear up for battle year in and year out. Me, in my ignorance, assuming they were not affected. Thinking they could breeze in and out when they entered their old stomping grounds, with no consequences to their souls.

They seemed to wear it so well through the years. Until recently, when their sweet kind hearts

could no longer wear or bear the brunt, of the unkindness that went on for so long.

Never asking for anything they would arrive, time and time again.

The gifts that would await them: ridicule, judgement, prove to me.

Cool aloofness, have we met before- as they walked into their childhood homes.

The interesting thing, almost funny. These two little ladies would be the first to make sure you had everything you need to be comfortable. Ultimate hostesses. Never for one moment when you enter their homes would they ever want you to feel ill at ease. They are so warm and charming. It hurt my heart today when I heard how their once again generous spirits were

met with unkindness. They are very close and made a visit to their old neighborhood.

I, no longer in my life excuse, "They are your parents"," They are old", etc.

Unkindness is so destructive. Not only to the unlucky recipient. The family members

that are affected by the pain from the original recipient as well. On and on it goes, when bad behavior is allowed.

"That's just how they are". Okay, then this is how I am, as the door is closing on my way out as I remove myself from unkindness. I have hurt and felt bad so long for being told I am going to Hell for not believing a certain religion, am wrong on a political view, for not accepting a limited "one way" opinion, etc.

I love my friends. We have each others backs. Always. We have been through the worst of it with each other. Now it is time to really see the best of times. We have shared the pain of

unkindness. We learned how to treat each other with unkindness. Now through so much

collective pain, we are learning to bring a new way, a new word:

Kindness.

Ready For Love

I am not willing to hide me anymore. I have come in this world as I am. I have worked ridiculously hard to be accepted and loved. I have exhausted every resource at my disposal.

I have been so ill I have been bed ridden, so sad, my heart has broken. Let's not start on the loneliness. Especially in crowds. It is all part of the process to strip away the excess baggage. It is very familiar to many who want to know their core essence. It is not this blissful bullshit story I am so sick of being spoon fed in this fast food, new age "everything is bliss" if you just....

(fill in the blanks).

Well, maybe I am a late bloomer. Not maybe. The thing is, what else exactly am I supposed to be ashamed of? Growing, not growing fast enough. Not seeing the light like the enlightened?

Why is my way not the right way- if inside my body it resonates perfectly. That's my point in writing this. I finally get that I have only been chasing my own tail. Period.

It feels so good to finally breathe and laugh and seriously get it. We are all okay.

As is. Who is this great rule makin-finger- pointin- mo- fo? He seriously wouldn't be someone I would want hanging out with me and mine. So I mis-spell something. What if you do?

Are the mis-spell police going to come for us? I am more concerned about wanting to know if you love me. Did I hurt you? Please forgive me for overstepping my bounds- hey thanks for loving me, anyway. Again.

We are just who we are. Walking forward, backward, sideways. The point is: We are

continuously walking. Falling, dusting ourselves off, laughing, crying. We are human.

Loving, sharing. Having the ability to be moved by the simplest of gestures. Kindness.

Acknowledgment .... good job. Understanding one another, in the deepest of grief, passion, fear.

To be loved. To accept love with grace. Quite a challenge for this little gal.

But the days of feeling less or ashamed for being the person who came into this world with

gifts and challenges are over. It's what makes the bitter and sweet work so well.

It just is. I can curse them. I have. I have been ashamed of me and let other's

classify me as less. Most of my life actually. That one is worn out. Thanks anyway.

I am me. I came here to be me. Why else would I be here? I tried being what everyone expected of me. Dismal failure. So...... the new plan. I am just going to cruise around this big ol' world and know there is plenty to go around. Enough toys for all of us.

Only thing I'm sayin.... I want to play now. Like I said, I am ready for love and then some.

She Slept Here

The peeling green shed door lightly closed behind me, as I walked into the cold winter air.

This door opened to it's own room attached to the garage. The kids had made it into a music, "hang out with their friends" place. The rain was really starting to fall, as I made the short jaunt back into our house.

It was getting later into the evening, and it seemed about that time to wrap it up.

My favorite place ever was sitting in front of the fireplace in the living room.

Listening to the crackling fire, and smelling that mountainy wood scent, as it danced up the chimney. Nothing comes close to it, especially being safe and warm, as the rain tapped on the windows.

Matt and Katie came in the back door, with a friend and her young brother flying behind.

It must have been around 7 or 8 pm by now on a cold rainy winter night.

I didn't recognize these little faces. It was typical having kids over, but this crew was

different. Matt was around 12 at the time, as was his friend. Her little brother seemed,

if memory serves me, to have been maybe 7 or so, if that. He seemed pretty young. Katie was about 8.

The young girl asked if she could spend the night. It just caught me off guard temporarily. Many a child had laid their head on a pillow in our home, it wasn't a problem. I just had no idea who this girl was until this moment . Her very-wet-from-the-rain little brother had the same wish as his sister. Haunting eyes that made it very hard for us to say no. So much sadness in them.

I was mystified. Not nearly as mystified, as when they called their mother to ask if they could stay in a complete strangers home. With little bro in tow- mom says no problem. It's pouring rain,

and these two adorable faces, along with my little darlin's are looking up at me begging please, please. That was all it took. So out comes the pull out couch in the living room. Warm jammies and hot cocoa with plenty of snacks all around. Watching them all laughing, sitting round that glowing fire. I can still see these four kids all under the covers everywhere. Sleeping bags, blankets some on the couch, others on the ground. All safe and toasty on this cold winters night.

If I knew what I now know today, about that snap shot I would need to keep for an eternity. A sacred moment with a weary young girl wanting nothing more than to feel safe, even for a moment.

This brother and sister duo were so grateful for the simplest of things. Especially the hot cocoa and being tucked in. I had no idea her circumstances. I just knew her mother didn't blink twice at the thought of

her two precious angels staying with complete strangers over night. It hurt me seeing so much pain in these two innocents, wanting what is everyone's birthright. To know they are loved and to feel safe and protected. They were so grateful I felt humbled. Morning came,

and I dropped them off at their house, so they could change before going to school.

I didn't see or hear from them again, but thought about these two kids on occasion. They lived around the corner from our house. My heart hurt whenever we drove by their house.

A few years had passed, and I can honestly say I don't remember what my son said.

There had been a fire in her home and his friend had been in her bedroom. She did not make it out.

We drove and walked by the house many times, I remember that very well. Matt was no more than

14 or 15, katie 10 or 11. The sight of this burned down house, the house that this young girl

once lived in was a constant reminder for a long time. This same young girl who spent one cold, rainy winter night in our home not so long before.

As I was driving home last night, for some reason I remembered this little angel again.

She has been gone at least 10 years now. I don't know why she flashed so strongly in my brain.

Maybe she just deserved for someone to pay tribute to all the cold, rainy nights that

she felt so alone. I know she's dancing on Angels Wings.

The Home Made Veil

I emailed my sisters today laughing as though it were more than 30 years ago.

I couldn't control myself as the images became more vivid. I was no older than third grade, when veils were no longer en vogue in the Catholic Church. Now, that isn't what makes me laugh at all. That's just part of growing up Catholic. I did feel gypped that I did not get to rock in those wailing long black veils. Now those had some drama, some bounce. You could put those on your head and act very fancy covering your eyes, your entire face. Unfortunately, those rigs were for adults only. So I sported my mothers, parading around at home. Stylish in black, white, or your choice of ivory. I wanted the black, who's kidding who?

Not that the girls would ever forget their small, round black or white veils at home.

Maybe the younger one. She seemed to be a day dreamer. They covered the top of your head,

but had no zing like the Queen size version. I am still fixating on that big'un.

So we dutifully bobby-pinned those suckers to our skulls. Maybe someone else helped,

if they didn't stay in place. I'm not saying who might have not been tender and gentle as a lamb

putting those bobby-pins in. I'm just sayin.

There was an unfortunate day when at least one of these three lovely little lassies

would forget their veils. I know, say it ain't so. Alas, the three sissy's had one quick thinking mama. Oh no you didn't! Out of her purse, that had the most interesting things- always a

mint lifesaver stuck to a kleenex, that was a given. Well, out she pulled a kleenex to cover our bare non veiled head. Not an ordinary kleenex, but wrinkled with several lipstick marks covering it. If you were lucky, you didn't get the one she would say had just a little phlegm on it.

So, you can imagine our dilemma. The audacity of us forgetting our veil. I am pretty sure most mom's wrote that one off. Not ours. Where there was a will, there was a way. That wrinkled, red lipstick, phlegm-speckled kleenex sure did come in handy.

The Downtowner

You turned my world upside down. The moment you stepped into it. I would watch you

drive up in your little red BMW. All the way to the very back of the driveway, I could never figure that one out. Even when there was a space right out front, you'd keep on going.

Then you'd walk in. I'd act cool and casual. Probably like I didn't even see you. I thought

I was obvious, then I would have to be even cooler. I just liked you. You made me smile.

I would be tortured if you didn't sit on my station, my side of the restaurant. I'd try to

guide you over with my witty remarks. When you brought your girlfriend in, that tortured me.

I knew you were a couple, but I had finally gotten my freedom. I'm sorry, but I was

a smitten 20 year old who didn't get the two of you together. I was polite when you

both came in, but I never got why you were so humorless. Alone, you were a firecracker.

It was so difficult the times you did come in alone. You would be so chatty, funny.

Terribly confusing. We were always very proper with each other. You still thought

I was married. I didn't know you had split with your little lady. What was up with us?

We would laugh and joke about everything, but never get around to the fact that we

dug each other. Okay, I will say I dug you first, but I know the real truth fella!

I never wanted you to leave when you came in for breakfast. Bacon, eggs, OJ and coffee.

Oops, don't forget that wheat toast.

I remember the first time you asked me out. We finally both figured out we were freebirds.

You invited me down to your office at the Bradbury Building. I acted like I knew what the hell

the Bradbury Building was. Went their often with my other waitress friends.

Maybe some Temple City Homeys. I probably had been to downtown LA once, and never by

myself. I was so excited, yet horrified. To meet you downtown. Whoa, this was the big time.

I had no idea what people wore to downtown. I searched my closet for the proper downtown

wear. I found a long yellow skirt and blazer. Seemed very downtownish. I had never worn my

hair down in front of you, so this slightly freaked me out. I know this sounds odd, but being a waitress, I had to wear my hair in a bun every day. My hair was very long, so I almost felt naked.... a different person with it down, so revealing. Plus my downtownwear. You had always seen me

in my Francisco's uniform.. you were my customer, and I liked you. Deadly combo for

breaking walls down. Plus you were the cutest boy/ man. I was just coming out of a marriage,

at the ripe old age of 20. I was scared.

The lunch was fabulous, it felt terribly fancy. I thought you were so sophisticated.

Being a downtowner and you were older than me. Hmmmm.

I think you were wearing your brown cords, with a blazer kind of jacket, too.

I thought you were the cutest,most adorable, scary ....... I am in giant trouble.

How could I possibly like and have fun with the same person I was going out with.

I had married The Marlboro Man last pass, good times. This fellow liked to laugh

and talk and feel and was still a man. Hmmmm?

When the time came for me to travel back to reality land, you asked me out again.

Now, for certain I had grace and charm and was a whiz with words. I insulted you,

and you never called me. This perplexed me. I couldn't figure it out. So I called you

a week or so later. Had I no pride? I kinda thought you dug me. You were quick to inform me of the insult. I thought you knew I was kidding. So to make up for my atrocious behavior,

I invited you out for an evening. How we have been married 26 years, and ever reached the second date, I'll never know. One of my waitress gal pals had just given birth.

I thought it would be a great idea to swing by the hospital and hang out, sit a spell.

This poor guy probably wanted to flee, thought he was on a reality TV show, something.

Who thinks that is cool on a second date? His little gal, his bride, the one who loves him.

I think back to where and how it all started for us, two crazy kids. No matter the highs and lows, I love my Raymond. Even when we infuriate the hell out of each other, we eventually start laughing. I think it is fair to say I torture him more, being an extrovert.

I can just imagine the eye rolling going on. I guess my incessant talking is the equivalent

of his motor boat snoring. That's love.

One Day

Oh, but you are so amazing. I love you ........ of course you know that. It's just that ______ (fill in the blank) name will be upset. I'll call you. Don't want to upset the apple cart. You understand. You're such a trooper.

I have made excuses my entire life for this behavior. I have wanted to be liked more than respected. I have needed it. That is why sitting here is so difficult right now. I've reached my limit. I have peaked out. There's nothing left but the hollow shell I am now shedding. It's done. The veneer wasn't much thicker after all these years. I just didn't know how easily it would peel off when I was ready - Really ready.

It's just a few days into the New Year. Maybe it's that. I made no big New Years Resolution. My heart remembered. From a ghost from my past. Someone I loved dearly, who always put me on the back burner 100 years ago. What did I know? Throw the dog a bone. I would have and by the way, did take any bone thrown my way. I was not what you would have called one with discriminating tastes. If someone was nice to me and did not appear to be a serial killer or some form of reptilian mutant, they were in.

It didn't mean I liked them or thought highly of them, after all they liked me. What's up with that? Big ol' defense mechanism. But I did liked being with people. It's because I wanted them to like me and was terrified of rejection. I just couldn't figure out why anyone would like me. Consequently, I allowed some of my friends to treat me badly : getting bitch slapped verbally. I was subserveant, a role I learned so well as a child. I followed the pack until later in life when I would catch on how power was won. I didn't say healthy power. Good teachers, some of those Bitch Slappers. I'm sure I did my good share of bitch slapping back, once I caught on to how that game was played. I truly am sorry to those who got caught in my Power Play. No excuses for that one.

I did have some standards. I had secret deeply buried aspirations. Unknown even to myself, I would always be on a quest to search out individuals I respected. This presented a problem in my life. This somewhat secret quest, well... very hidden quest buried deep in my heart. Meanwhile acting out in very destructive ways. I wanted guidance, but like a wild stallion needed to be reined in. No easy task I assure you. I believe bucking bronco may be one of the terms used by my sweet hubby.

I did the best I could with the limited road map at my disposal at an early age. Leaving home at 16, you miss out on a lot of things you can never get back. You see the world differently, than maybe someone who felt protected and nurtured. I knew there was no going back. I felt very old. I didn't see things with the same perspective as someone who was thriving , healthy. I felt desperate, running, always trying to figure things out and keep up. Then just wanting to escape. Everything seemed too hard.

The boyfriend I moved in with, to escape the bad family home life now was becoming too much.

By the time I was 18 and had pushed for the marriage that I now wanted to flee. Having no voice can present quite a problem. I wanted to get married, to prove I was lovable, not the monster I conjured up in my head. Oops, too late. Mama wasn't letting me out of this one. Neither was hubby-to-be. What to do, what to do. I know, I'll get married. That will get everyone off my back. Then I will just do what I want. Hmmmmmmm. I was brilliant, mature, and definitely had it all going on. 18 and on top of the world. How I wished. Pretended.

Scared shitless and wanting someone to take me by the hand and make it all better was more like it. Completely lost. Alone. I was a year out of high school. Not even a full year. I did what I did to survive. Period. I left one bad situation for another. I wanted love. I needed a voice. Which, by the way....... my going down memory lane writing does have a point. The great trooper, No Voice Clare. Going along for whatever ride. Always in the back seat. But the problem, I like the view from the front. The other view just doesn't cut it anymore. I want to see everything!!

Maybe in that other life. When I didn't know any different. Desperation and fear were forever

my friends, side by side. So as I go down memory lane, my heart doesn't travel lightly. Not this time my friend. I am no longer Back Burner Buddy. Always laying in wait, as I did so many years before. I was so obedient. It wasn't that I was actually as desperate, as this one silly thing. I just loved you so much. So I waited. I waited for so many people, like a good obedient dog.

Because I loved. I will continue to love. But as of today..... I'm sorry. I can no longer wait. I have people who are waiting for me to get this Hospice business going. Thanks for reminding me.

"The House That Clare Is Building"

With unflinching certainty it came to me. I have waited so long

to hear, see, know. I no longer question for one second the next move I need to make.

I have anguished for so long for a clear sign. I am the type of gal

who needs it in neon bigger than life. Than multiply that by 10. I'll start thinking it might be a sign and ask for more. Must be a coincidence and I am hallucinating.

My name could be on it, with arrows pointing towards the correct direction.

I would still ask, hmmmm, maybe it's for another Clare.

I don't know why it is hard for me to accept signs, truths, realities.

I feel them in my heart constantly. I think never having them validated as a child,

I have a hard time trusting myself. I brush it off. I must be high.

On what , sugar? That one is even getting old.

Something clicked about a week ago, when I couldn't sleep.

I lay there in the dark, and I knew without a doubt, what my life's mission

finally was. The best part, I finally got me. Why my life has unfolded as it has.

I made more sense to my own self! A tremendous burden was lifted.

To know so many years of darkness and pain, which I could not understand for the life of me.

What could possibly be the point of that one. A lot of different avenues to pursue. Now it finally made sense. To feel SO sensitive all these years, all this time. My sensitivity now had purpose.

The only one that kept reeling me back in, loud and clear: Hospice.

I cannot explain how at home I feel. I know that's when the best me comes out.

How nothing feels more natural and right.

Taking care of individuals, families in their most vulnerable moments.

A few years ago, I would have told you this decision was insane. No way.

My passion, compassion has only grown. I have had to do a lot of soul searching.

Forgiveness taking me down some roads I never thought I would dare travel.

Opening my heart, when I wanted to slam it shut so tight. Tell everyone to go to hell.

That would be the cleaned up version. A whole lot of kicking and screaming has gone on.

Tears and bitterness that could fill many rivers. Rage, hissy fits and a whole lot of

bitching and foot stomping going on.

Holding on to my point of view, until the bigger plan got shaken up. Having the privilege the honor of sitting, being with one person at a time. Making their transition back home, from this life into the next.

Listening, talking, laughing. Being. Getting to know family members. Holding a hand that is shaking. I completely underestimated the value in a cup of coffee, before. Having a warm beverage to hold, a hot cocoa, in the winter. Soothes a weary soul. Smell of fresh baked cookies wafting. Draws a very unlikely gathering. A perfect orchestra, created exactly at the right time, for each in need of comfort, laughter, just plain old company of strangers sometimes.

Mothers, fathers, sons, daughters. People unsure of what to do, how to behave.

Aunts and Uncles flying in from out of town, exhausted. Blankets draped on tired, sleeping sweeties sometimes can revive and comfort, even temporarily.

Others in great need of comic relief. Fearing there is a great rule book.

If there is laughter, they must be bad. So far from the truth. Laughter is so necessary .

Stories of family history, memories. Just plain old jokes. Knowing that you are not alone .

That is the bottom line.

Children, wanting normalcy. Smelling cookies baking, watching movies. Obviously they see their mothers, fathers in grief. Having a place to still be children, know that everything is going to be okay, critical. They get it. However they still want to play a game, watch a movie.

I learned so much working in a Hospital setting. It is very rare to find a

Hospital that serves specifically as a Hospice.

I am now going back to a new Hospice that I will learn, again my third time out.

This time my purpose has taken on an entirely different meaning.

My eyes, my ears, my radar- with complete alertness.

The student is in need of learning everything.

I, one day in the not too distant future will be opening my own Hospice House.

This is my declaration to myself, and to the world.

This is my Mission. Now is my time to learn as much as I can .

Meet the people I will need to. Have faith that this will all come together.

The thing I need to concentrate on are these two basics.

One, most important, keeping my heart open to love.

Without that, I am useless to anyone. Second, willingness to be a conduit.

I do not have to worry at this moment how all of this will come together.

I think the point is- to be willing. I am. I cannot worry about the other stuff yet.

It gets in the way of what I am good at. I have finally identified that one.

Remember me and signs>in the beginning of all this writing. It has taken me

a lifetime to get here. To accept this part of me. I got this sign covered. Past that I

definitely need to have serious neon signs lead the way.

I know there will be others along for this ride, who will read the signs along the way a lot better than me. I know I'll be covered.