Never Alone

Getting through  trying times relies on many factors. For me...... I wanted to.  Always. Even in the worst of it, I always wanted to get better. It would seem to those who are suffering greatly that is a very easy statement to make. Quite the contrary. In my darkest hours, I prayed , begged, pleaded..... did whatever it would take imaginable to keep me afloat until the morning light.  It took me a very long time to understand myself. The pain I was in. The areas of my life that were so frightening to go back and look at.... feel.

Another factor in my healing was the love of my family. It was a constant in my all consuming darkness.
My kids may have felt my moods..... my husband had to sit with them on a daily basis.
Anyone who has not experienced profound depression, and tells you to just get over it.....
well, just doesn't work that way. Sorry. The hardest part for me ..... BS New Agers.
As you can see, my patience has worn thin. I am actually glad of this. My real me is finally emerging. I have true opinions. I am allowed to rock the boat. Especially when I have ridden on this one my whole
life. I love any person who comes from realness, truth. No matter what walk of life.
I am no longer in a place of accepting condascension. Tiresome. Have done it all my life...
The buck stops here. I realize everyone has a gift. We all do something well. The key is to find that gift.

Today I felt I found my voice more than ever. Depression is an extremely challenging thing to face in life, get a handle on. There are many ways to handle it. To find your way..... get through it and find your voice. That is the goal. Find joy, peace, balance... to name just a few things. Without balance it is very hard to function. The cloud must lift to see brighter days. Whatever method you choose, and there are many....... find out which is right for you. You are worth it. It took me  many years to  identify what  the problem really was.   Than..... to  really be able to feel my feelings. Layer after layer needs to be unpeeled. Go slow. Be kind to yourself.  We are all worth love. No matter who we are.
It is not a race to the finish. This is your life. Kid gloves required at times. Other times no less than
brutal honesty. Many different kind of therapies. Many choices. How wonderful we live in an age where
so much help is available to us now. No longer do we need to be hidden away..... ashamed like an animal. That is the point, to shine light on those suffering. To say..... you are not alone. You are worthy of love. A life truly awaits you. So much more. This does not happen over night. Anyone that tells you that in one session.....[ yikes!]
every problem you have ever known in your entire life will be gone...... run for the hills.

Believe that this can and will happen. Listen to as much positive information as you can. If possible....
surround yourself with positive people and things. A little at a time.  A hand reaching out is what saved me every time. Humbled me...... lifted me. There will always be a hand reaching out. All you have to do is ask. You are never alone. Not for one second.

Gabrielle

She was my neighbor and I never wanted to leave her that way. I do not abandon ship.......... especially my female friends.  I tried so hard ....to no avail. It's time to lay down the gauntlet on yet another story from the past. Gabrielle lived next door to me when I was a newlywed..... all of eighteen years old.  My first hubby and I  became friends with her. She was like no one I had ever met.  She was newly divorced with a small child. Rules of her own. Gabby was five years older than me. Somehow I always felt older than her, like I was her mother. Her mom had ended her life  on Valentines Day when Gabby was a teen. So many other tragedies had happened in her life. She was like a vulnerable child you just wanted to love  and make better.

My marriage had  ended almost as fast as it had begun..... and Gabby and I were out on the town one night in Universal City at a bar.  I don't even know how I got in. I was only twenty years old. The Canadian Rugby Team happened to be there as well..... and we started chatting with a couple of the team members.They told us a game was coming up very soon in San Diego.....maybe we'd like to come watch. Gabby was counting the seconds. Her birthday was coming up..... so that was that. We were going to San Diego  to follow her new love interest that weekend.

We headed out in my enormous car [a 1980 gold Monte  Carlo] that for some reason I thought was cool at the time. Hmmmmmmm? We drove to Cal State San Diego or one of those Colleges .... very aimlessly to find out where the game was.... where these fellows were staying. The Student Body President happened to be there .... and was kind enough to help us look up the information.
 This was before computers or cell phones and it was getting late..... he wanted to go home, so we followed him. It seemed harmless enough. Gabs was kicked back .... already perfectly at home by the time we got there. True to his word, he looked up where the Rugby Team was. As I was looking around, I noticed a lot of naked pictures of girls on the wall. Cool. This guy seemed a little more than interesting. Gabby seemed very content. She and this fellow hit it off very quickly.  I just kind of sat there.... observing.
Comfort zone......... zero- and getting lower. About that time he asks us if we want something to drink.
Gabby is up for this party.  It's getting late, he said "Why not just spend the night and hit the trail in the morning."  Naked pictures on the wall.... Gabby drinking like a fish, what isn't adding up here with our Student Body President? I wanted to laugh, but run. Am I the only one who thinks this is freaky? These two are just getting very cozy. I am looking for the exit... just in case. Didn't see any visible cameras. Good sign.
Now..... as I am writing this, even I am snickering. Naked chicks on the wall. This guy was so strange.
No red flags going on for Gabby. I wanted to beat feet..... I finally thanked our host and we were out of there. Gabby didn't understand why we couldn't just spend the night. Sometimes there is no splainin!
It was comical. I never felt threatened as much as it was so bizarre. I guess because he was the Student Body President it  also gave me a false sense of  security. Someone probably thought Jeffrey Dahmer  was a kick too!
Off we drove in my fine steed of a ride..... backtracked to Oceanside. Our Rugby players were staying at a Motel 6..... or some fine establishment. Gabby figured out which room they were in..... probably from all the noise coming out of the loudest room.  She knocked on the door and her party began.
There must have been ten guys in the room. The one fellow that I was slightly sweet on was in the room. He came out, we said our hellos ....  he asked if we wanted to come in. I peeked my head in and saw a bunch of drunk Rugby players. Thanks but no thanks. Gabs had different thoughts. She already was a little liquored up from naked picture man's pad.  She could be a rather persistent gal,
so a decision was made. I drove over to  to Winchell's Donuts  [previous stories will tell you of my past love of donuts..... now were my saving grace], and got cozy in my ride for a long night. Gaby chose Door Number One with the greatest of glee. I truly thought she was kidding. She wasn't. I was scared all night. I was convinced someone was going to murder me. It was not the best area of town. Close to Camp Pendeleton...it didn't help the parking lot light was shining directly into my car. Add some
very interesting people walking around all hours of the night.  I had a dozen donuts.....  no traces of them could be found by the morning. Quite uncomfortable when that sun light did shine bright and those fellas filed out of the room for the big game.  I forced a fake smile. After all, it isn't every day your good friend spends the night in the room with some strange men.... and they walk past your car in the morning?  I knocked on the door.... she was sleeping in one of the beds. Hmmmmmm.
I made sure everyone was gone.... then took a shower.  I didn't even ask her what happened.... as she began to stir, what was the point?  I had this crazy notion we would have been warm and snuggly tucked in our own hotel room. It was her birthday. I ridiculously rolled with the punches.... Why, I still have no idea.

This party had just begun as got to the game. Gabby was starting the drinking fest ... I was beginning to feel like a Babysitter. It was Sunday afternoon and I was very relieved when the game  finally ended. There was an after party somewhere in the hills of San Diego.  These Canadian boys knew how to drink and were ready for a long night of knocking them back.
Even at twenty I knew I had to drive home non-intoxicated. Not that I was even legal drinking age. I was tired- had to work the next morning, was ready to leave. No Gentlemen at this party..... and I was learning I didn't know my friend very well at all.
Perhaps there was one or two other girls at this party. Cool. Really cool. I think I found out who this may have been very cool to..... as I looked over and saw a woman's top being stripped off by the owner.
You guessed it. Gabby was in her element. Both teams of Rugby Players were licking their chops.
It was horrific for many reasons.... first, my friend was taking her clothes off in front of all these drunk men. Second, she was drunk and completely out of control. Thirdly.... I tried to reel her in, and never felt so powerless in my life. the more I tried to reason with her..... the worse it got.

Fourth reason... I was with her. A lot of drunk out of control Rugby Players.  Big...Tall Rugby Players.
I was with her. The fella I knew told me we better leave now. We both tried to get her to my car.
Nothing doing. Fortunately he was protective of me...... that helped. Again, putting myself in ridiculously dangerous situations without thinking. I begged and pleaded with her to come with me.
It only made her laugh at me..... use every cuss word known to man kind. I knew it was becoming survival of the fittest the drunker everyone was getting. I am not one who would leave a female behind....ever. This fella told me I had to leave now with or without her. The party was getting very out of control.
  I made one last very heart felt plea. Deaf ears was a mild statement on what it fell on.

I didn't know where I was..... unfamiliar city.  Only had about ten dollars to get home. Gabby had all the money on her for this trip. Pretty sure sharing the wealth theory wasn't going to happen now.
I was scared and didn't know what to do.  I had too much pride to tell the Rugby Player I didn't have enough money to get home. What I did ask was him to get me to the Freeway entrance. We were so far in the hills. I have the worst sense of direction imaginable..... still do to this day. We said our goodbyes.
The thing that was the most haunting....... to this day. The last sight of her  her being loaded into a van by several men..... her shrieking with laughter.

It was a horrible choice I had to make..... I felt  so powerless. As I drove home.... exhausted, frightened....I realized I only had  a very small amount of gas in the tank. I pulled over to a gas station around one a.m. I had enough to fill it up about half a tank. I prayed all the way home it would get me there. It seemed like it was on empty about twenty minutes from home or so. I really have no idea how I made it home on such a little amount of gas..... such a large gas tank. I cried most of the way, the rest of the time jumped up and down on the seat to stay awake. I hadn't slept in awhile. I am sure I was an interesting sight. Music blaring, window down...... so I would stay awake..tears streaming... bouncing up and down. You do what ever it takes!

The next morning.... I heard a knock at my bedroom window.... than a crack. She was throwing something at it. I looked up. It was Gabrielle. She was staring down at me through the curtains.
She simply looked at me with venemous hate filled eyes, said  "F*** You."
 I never saw or heard from her again.c

Innocence Lost...

  This is a warning.... adult content.... .

As he looked at me in the rear view mirror, his bride by his side...... I knew two things. 

One, he was a gross pig. 
Two..... somehow I had some kind of power.
 At fourteen this  is a hard thing to understand..... it is instinctual. Purely. 
We were sitting in his enormous Monte Carlo.... or something like that. I was with the other kids from my Church Group.  We would split up in groups-  five or six married couples would be responsible for maybe 5 kids or so..... maybe more. These weren't my usual team leaders. I always could feel his wife didn't like me. The same feeling has come up many times in my life. Not a good one. I am only aware now it is my mother button being pushed. This particular couple had two boys that I liked. They were very young. I always did extremely well  with children. One of them I sort of taught in Sunday School. I say sort of..... my version of teaching was putting The Beach Boys music on. It made sense at the time. I was always torn between being a good girl...... and a little renegade.... doing it my way.

When I looked up at this man who was more than old enough  to be my father...... sneaking peeks every chance he could-

as his wife droned on and on about something boring. She had a very acid tongue at times... and it would soon leak out on me. We would have Church Group Dances and I could feel his eyes burning into my body, which made me very self- conscious.

It apparently did not go unnoticed by the Mrs. Here is the funny thing  that I discovered about women at a young age.

Never blame the Mo Fo who's eyes are wandering lustfully at a young girl. Blame the young girl!  Perfect.... the girl must have some "magic wand" that creates that boner in the old man's pants. Yeah.... that's it.
 I am not talking about out-right seductions... entirely different matter. 
 I am talking about The innocence of youth that some gross pig desires.... and lusts after.

This can damage a girl's youth more than anything. How she views herself. How she feels men view her. The friendships that she struggles with ...... lack of intimacy and trust. This particular man's wife would go after me with gusto.

I learned to strike back like a snake. I knew her weakness. Her pig husband. Unfortunately..... that would be a tool I  became quite skilled at. Again.... learned at a very early age from so much pain and damage.I started to enjoy  her 

anger. I couldn't care less about him, he became the pawn. It was her anger..... she couldn't control this.

Of course I would learn through years and years of Therapy ..... this rage of mine was solely directed at my mother.

Not protecting me from my brother's not only  sexual indignities on me..... his emotional scars I bore were almost worse.

I was lashing out in truly the most naive,passive -aggressive way a child could.  A child..... I never felt it or knew for one second. Never felt like a child. Especially at fourteen..... not with those eyes searing into my body, my soul.

That was just the teaser to segue into what I have been avoiding and need to put pen to paper. As I sit writing this in 

Barnes and Noble..... it seems somehow easier. People around, it normalizes it. My headphones on, the giant ones that Ray uses..... not the kind you use in public. Somehow between these and my glasses.... it feels safer.

I want a blanket, I want to cry. I am cold. That is better..... I put my jacket around me. Some cushioning helps.

He used to call me Blondie as he followed me in his patrol car ....... as I walked down the Blvd. home after school.

He had no shame. Slowly he would drive beside me.... "Blondie"...... as I walked. Boys would ask if he were my brother, father.... who was he? How could I answer the mess I was so deeply saturated in. How did it get to this part..... where I wanted out, which again would be a theme in my life. A previous story written I spoke of my friend Bear who worked at Winchell's Donuts. She was quite obsessed with cops... I was quite obsessed with donuts. That's how it all began.

Very innocently. I lost my best friend from this...... not in the obvious way through the years........ through the damage.

The aftermath too great to handle. I will always love her and mourn the pain that still resides so deeply in her.

It was a cold night I remember when I met them. They seemed to be a tag team. These two cops. One seemed kinder than the other. Rabbit is the nickname I gave the more innocent {ha!] one. The other, I guess, I need to call something.

How about John.... I don't even remember his first name.  John was dangerous and all the girls liked him. Don't know 

why...... he pulled you in like a magnet.... especially if you were fourteen to sixteen, his target audience. He was about twenty eight. Rabbit was around the same age. John just went after whatever and whoever he wanted. I don't know how I got two of my really good friends drawn in..... with much regret and sadness now , but we all were in the web.

Bear was never privvy to the goings on...... I had to keep a very separate life from her, which was quite difficult

since I hung out at Winchell's and that was the meeting spot. I used her ride for transport, with no drivers license....

what fear did I have , I knew most of the cops...... Our next door neighbor was a cop. I felt my bases were pretty much covered. I don't know how it began..... but it began with "John"...... coming into my work. It was the very first night on the job, I was a hostess at a restaurant, and he and his Fireman pal Marty came in.  It was very flattering to me, getting this kind of attention from grown men. They asked me if I wanted a ride home, I didn't think it was a big deal.... Cop and Fireman. Good guys. We stopped by my friends work.....(remember we were both sixteen) at a fast food joint. She was very excited with the notion of attention as well. We used to go to Mass a couple times out of boredom on a Sunday... so we were not prepared for anything. I think she said she was going to spend the night at my house, so the story begins.

She had the kind of dad who actually checked her mileage..... checked to see if her engine was warm,  if she had really driven her car. She was such a straight A good girl.... c'mon.

These fellows invited us to come on over to  John's apartment. This felt so grown up. I don't think either of us had really even done much more than kiss a boy...... like I said.... we had no idea.  We got there and were immediately plied with alcohol. Then separated. My friend was more okay with this than me. I still liked safety in numbers. She liked John, 

not the fireman...... maybe because he had some kind of rainbow striped pants. I don't know. I remember coming out to see what was up, and her top was off. I had never seen her topless.... and didn't want to on that particular night.

I felt embarrassed and kind of sick to my stomach. John probably had a clue and took me away again.... more alcohol.

First he told me he was going to show me how he was going to make me a "good wife" for some man...... one day.

I cried and crossed my legs...... one thing my husband can attest to..... and anyone who REALLY  knows me.....

I have the strongest legs you can possibly imagine. I think I remember now why. I didn't want to learn how to make some man a good wife. I  will spare you the particular details of what he wanted instead... and that was that. He decided I was a dead beat bore.... so invited my friend and Marty in. It was a giant bed.....and I crawled to the bottom..... and just listened until the three of them were done. It was not pleasant and I felt very sad. We went to a coffee shop after.... John had no use for me. He promised every girl he would take them away to Catalina Island. My friend was hooked. I just sat there until we went home. She was in love. I felt disgusting.

Somehow.... this became Mr. Toad's Wild Ride. Another friend got involved and was in love with John.... so both  gals now were fighting for his affection. As well as many a fourteen to sixteen year old. Meanwhile...... Rabbit had his sights on me. He knew nothing of the John escapades...... unless he bragged to him..... duh.... maybe that's why he was movin in! I really don't know..... but he was sheepish and always hinting. To make matters worse Rabbit was married. 

So it began. He would pick me up after his shift..... around midnight. I was a junior in high school. I would leave the front door cracked open..... and stay out until around two. We would drive around in his red MG until he found a spot in a secluded area to his liking.  So many pieces of the puzzle are coming together for me now.

Why I didn't always make it to school on time..... or at all. Perhaps I was tired. I was living so many lives.... keeping things from so many people...... bulimia was such a relief for me.My only relief. I am quite sure I would have taken drugs ... no, I know I wouldn't have. I did not know how else at the time to deal with all these emotions.

There is one thing this man wanted and  wanted a lot of. Again I will spare you the details. He never wanted to have actual sex....... he said I was jail bait.   He would hunt me down wherever I was. I felt like I no longer had a life. I would always be sick.... but never knew why.

Little did I know my body was trying to scream to me...... RUN. I did try. He was stronger than me at the time. His agenda was greater. I remember getting my tonsils out, and being so relieved. He still came to the hospital to visit. He had nerve. 

His wife was doing an art show in our town at the carnival one time.... of course he shamelessly introduced me. The look again. She told him..... you better not be doing anything with her. I  knew he was thrilled she made that comment. He liked telling me that. I never hated him more. 

I could never, ever look at his face..... ever. Always felt ashamed...... disgusting. I never felt I had a voice. I don't even remember how it began...... but I do remember my face being pushed in his lap. Each and every time  wanting to die.

It never dawned on me to say no. It never dawned on me that anyone would think it was wrong. He was a cop and so blatant with everything.... they all were. My mom never acted like my brother did anything wrong... she never acknowledged it at all.

My friend went back alone to John's apartment ....  which would become her  deepest regret. This time, he had a gun to get the job done..... all she remembered ..... counting the dots on the ceiling. We cannot  break through this, no matter how hard we have tried. Maybe one day. Some pain is  buried so deep. It takes what it takes to heal.                                            

There were countless cop parties ..... until one of my friends mom's got a whiff  of what was really going on.

Somehow the cops no longer hung out at Winchells.....  in our fair city....... still don't today. I have learned a lot about my behavior today. I was acting on my own survival skills.... there was no where to go..... no one to talk to. I was taught to trust in the authority figures one hundred percent. Starting with the Priests at church. I wasn't believed at home..... who was going to believe some sixteen year old girl? Lessons learned... making me the person I am today. I wish these on no one. We didn't deserve such hard ones. Yes very naive..... not criminals. Especially for not knowing how to behave or read the signs. 

Very sheltered...... repressed.... wanting fun, perhaps attention. The result, getting in way over our heads by very selfish and unsavory characters. We were good girls.... still are. Time for forgiveness al the way around.... been holding on to this shame for thirty two years. Goodbye shame. I am ready for joy and lightness of heart.To forgive myself for not knowing good from bad..... to forgive the bad.  To love myself silly. 

Hangin With Bear

It wasn't just her green Vega seventies wagon that appealed to me so much. Sure it had style and pizazz, even a little kick. This was from a sixteen year old girl with neither a car or drivers license. It could have been  a porsche or pinto - it was a ride and I was behind the wheel. I was not all that picky.
Bear and I were quite an interesting duo. She was not my typical crew at school. Bear was my secret guilty pleasure. Let's just start with the most important reason..... she worked at Winchells Donuts.
Okay, I don't know if I said that loud enough.... or you were not a food head in High School.
Free donuts. Bear got her name...... of course nick named by me, well let's just say she was not petite.
Bear was a big gal. The thing that used to make me laugh...... she always acted like she ate lettuce.

I was a food head..... I knew better. I would have been a Bear had I not learned how to become a bulimic with another crew a few years earlier. Yes.... I had many crews for many reasons. Bear would work nights and I lived right down the street. How very convenient for me. I don't even remember how we actually became friends. To this day she doesn't know that is her nick name! I would frequent the donut shop as she sweated it out frying those monstrous delights. Especially the apple fritters I took a liking to... yum.
Now, Bear had one weakness. She  loved her some policemen! What a delightful fit. They sure did love themselves Bear's donuts. They loved hangin at Winchells. Bear would get very persnickety with me. She was the original Bear growlin with 'tude. I wanted what I wanted- she wanted what she wanted. She thought I probably was more normal than some of her friends. Only as I write this do I suspect she used me for bait, friendship- but maybe a little cop bait! I didn't care, I wanted my donuts and to drive her ride. We were a good match.

Somehow I finagled my way into letting  her give me the car keys while she was frying up  those
yummalicious donuts. I would just drive for hours and face the music of her  wrath when I would return. I gladly paid the price for not having to be at home. She knew the game while she was at work.
Always the disapproving parent.....  and I'd play dumb. It was perfect. On many occasions  I would spend the night at her house. It was so great because there were very little rules going on and always lots of wild cats running around. Her dad was a crazy artist [that actually was my husbands  hero, as a kid]  I thought was very insane. He would offer us hot buttered toddies on many occasions - we were only sixteen.
Don't think we didn't drink them, we did. I am just saying who does that? We would tell Bear's mom we needed to run to Sav- on Drug Store at eleven pm. Then Bear would rev that Vega engine up like a bat out of hell, put in a cassette of "Queen,"and we'd hit the road.  She had her radar on one thing and one thing only.......COPS. She was obsessed. She wanted to do cops so desperately. I am not entirely sure they were feelin' it for Bear.

Two days a week- not like we planned it, we wore overalls together.  Come to think of it..... Bear may have worn overalls every day. I think I knew to start wearing the uniform - Go Team Bear. The other three days or when I actually attended school, I wore my normal rig.
In other words I looked female. I kind of liked the Bear method, I was a very lazy child.... so I just threw a red bandana over my hair that probably was greasy from waking up  late, probably slept in my over alls- I was set. Easy days. I felt fairly swiney....  but I would get dolled up the other days to makeup for my sloppiness. It all evened out..... in my mind. Bear was very moody, I didn't like to annoy her. She had a neighbor named Roger..... he wasn't any Mr. Rogers. To think of all that was going on right next door to her parents house...... how clueless they were. I think they were probably so miserable and probably boozing it up.

Roger would be the host of many a Cop Party  that included sixteen year old girls. Roger was thirty six years old. Good times. Bear's parents would act like it was perfectly normal when we would go to this bachelors house at night. Being a parent myself I just can't imagine this happening now.
Clueless in Seattle. We would be supplied with as much booze as we wanted. The more sixteen year old girls the better. Bear would be very unhappy at these parties and frequently  would leave angry.
I will have to write another story about the details..... I didn't know I was going to talk about Roger
and the cop parties. This will have to be a couple stories. Lives destroyed, some rebuilt.... others well, it takes time.


So my Bear days  came to an end when I left home later that year.  She was  so funny - so obsessed. I think she may have had a CB to listen to cop talk. I saw her years later in a Mexican Restaurant. She was pregnant and getting married.  She told me  she helped her  groom- to- be escape Mexico by carrying her lover boy over  the  border illegally...... honestly. Her words, "She carried him."Wasn't she pregnant when she carried him? Funniest visual to me.
That fella never had a chance. Wonder if their favorite food she whipped up was donuts?

To Forgive is Divine

To be forgiven...... truly forgiven to your soul is the greatest gift.....to  be given or received.
I have been lucky enough to receive such grace in my life. It has been a long road  to hear that freedom bell ring. To hear the clarity, the true sound ......... when you hear that perfect pitch.   Your heart and soul recognize  this all the way through. Mine came recently. It was actually a joint effort, which made the sound of those bells sounding all the sweeter. True understanding.... the layers had been stripped all the way through. We were in Cost Plus [ I told you... always in public these things come to me] looking at rugs or something. Raymond and me[my hubby].We  suddenly looked at each other as layers, years were flying off of us, faster than we could speak.  Years of not understanding each other in certain situations.... suddenly becoming crystal clear. The agony .... of not being able to love and support each other through each painful event. Mirroring one another.... as we looked in each others eyes. It was unbearable to see the pain coming out. We both held on so stubbornly to what we needed to believe. Instead of just seeing, hearing, feeling what the other person was experiencing at the time. It was so clear how deep our wounds were. How stuck we had been.... drowning in our own sea. We could not..... were not able to lend one another  an oar to row safely to shore. We had no tools in our tool box.... it was rusted shut.

The realization that we had no instruction book to help ourselves..... to forgive the "I" in our relationship
before there could be an "us." The judgement.... pain, pulling away. All  really directed at ourselves.
It was just so safe to attack, point the finger at each other. With that realization..... really did hit like a ton of bricks for both of us.  Just as soon.... the forgiveness came. The shame we both carried for so long began to lift.  It seemed as if we both stood up straighter immediately. What may have been deemed truly
unforgivable to another marriage..... or just a simple slight to yet another... was lifted for us.
The act of forgiveness....   no small act. The power it creates to change circumstance. Lift burdens.
We felt that we were both on a pretty good track after twenty six years of marriage. This humbled us to our knees. My love  for  this man .... who sat with me.. when I  felt like the most unlovable -unworthy human being. He would only hold me tighter.... dry my tears....tell me tomorrow would be brighter, just wait and see. He loved  me when I was terrified and pushed him away. He has taught me to embrace  the sides of me I have feared....run from for so long.   I was the beautiful flower he would see. I had to trust until my eyes  fully adjusted.

To know this act of forgiveness.... to my soul now frees me.  Knowing how deeply I once wounded him. What it has taken him to find his way back to me. We are different people now.
Not one of my prouder moments in life. There have been many moments where we have wounded each other. I am quite sure there will be more. That is part of the deal.... loving and learning. Forgiving.
He forgave.... not just forgave me for the deepest wound..... he came to me with understanding....... because he looked into his soul. He understood his behavior. That's when the bells chimed..... rang throughout the land...... we  really understood each others point of view.  To forgive..... truly is divine.

Old Days

Interesting how life is.  I have felt for so long there has been no going back for me ... to my past.
This week a very pleasant surprise came my way. I had emailed a grammar school friend I had not seen
well..... since eighth grade graduation. That would be just a few years ago. Make it about thirty five.
So hard to believe we were sitting in class together that long ago. The truth is..... we barely knew each other. I always thought he was the sweetest boy. Genuinely kind. Very quiet. I was very shy myself. The only real memory of us that had substance.....
was at Camp. We were  in sixth grade. I think there must have been some across the board
deal for all sixth graders to go to Camp. At Catholic School..... that was not the norm..... so we were all very excited. It was called Camp Colby in Angeles Crest Mountains. I remember very random facts from the old days. Odd.... nothing relevant......Now I can't remember where  my keys are.

I was in heaven up in the mountains. It seemed like a million miles away from home. That was definitely
a good thing.  To this day I remember my Camp Counselors name..... Terri. I have a picture of her...still.
I loved her so much. I feel that love well up inside my heart..... just thinking of her name.
She was so kind, warm, nurturing. As opposed to the sand paper touch of my mother...... Terri
was someone I did not want to let go of. I am sure she gave plenty of time and attention to all the campers.... but to my sixth grade mind it felt like we bonded. Maybe she saw a really sad, needy kid.
I don't know.... it's hard to say and I am not really sure it matters. I have been a parent for a long time now.... and I love those kind of kids I just described. It's just that it was me.

It was such a freeing experience to explore. One problem. Our battle axe  teacher Mrs De Noon.
Hag central. She was still there.... looming.... lurking.... evil. She was truly the most unkind teacher I ever known. She used to say to Teresa Girillo," Close your legs, the flies are attacking." "Get your snot rags off the desk." She was a peach. Can you imagine saying that to a kid in front of the whole class?
Cool. We used to have to say  oral book reports on Fridays. [Told you.... random freaky facts I remember]  I had an unbearable fear of public speaking [still do] as i am sure many kids did.
When it was my turn to go up to the front of the class, she would growl...... Gagliardi.
Death march would ensue. I literally would lose my voice.... full on laryngitis. She would make
me keep going as I cried in humiliation. I just stood there...... and would finally run out of the classroom.

She must have secretly wanted to be a nun. She had all the makings. Especially the cool breed we had.
Our fair beauty Sister Eileen.... how she was not at least runner up in a beauty contest  I'll never know.
With that big ol' hole chomped out of the tip of her nose...... those seductive as hell Cujo dog eyes that warmed you from afar. Hmmmm.... some pickins those gals. How those Padres stayed celebate.
Hard to know with those lovely ladies. They had an incredible way with children as well.
Soft lulling voices. They sounded like steam rollers  coming for you. They could eat metal for dinner....
and have it designed nice and pretty by desert. These were some scary, angry mamas.
Good times....definitely.

Back at Camp Colby..... and my young gentleman friend. Now my recollection was this.
I remember having to set the table for our class. Maybe it was dinner. Dan and I probably didn't utter many words to each other...... but I remember that I liked being near him. He felt safe, nice, kind.
That was more important than I could possibly understand at the time. I was already so disconnected
from my body, my emotions. He had a very quiet presence. It wasn't something I was used to.
It was calming to me. I didn't want that time to end. That was the most connected we ever were.
The interesting thing was..... I remembered it. Out of all of St. Lukes with him...... I remember that moment of setting the table. There was something that made sense about it. We didn't have the same friends in school.... ever. After eighth grade graduation.... I never saw him again. My parents still live in Temple City, so I would see the home he grew up in. I liked it..... and always wondered what happened to him.

This year was the year of connections for me. Getting on Face Book..... coming out of my shell.
It has been important to learn how to type and deal with electronics. I have lived in  the dinosaur age.....
ridden on the best of them. Have been so resistant to it all. Wow... what another world there is out there.....
and how hooked I have gotten. I am like a child with my new toys. Utube and music.
I had to hibernate  for some time..... catch my breath. Heal from old wounds. To be able to put the writing you are now reading out. ....get my courage up.That's some doing for me. I have hidden my writing for many years.
Just exposed it to the light of day in November for public consumption. That's a lot of years .....
considering I started at fourteen.... and am now forty eight. It takes what it takes. All in good time.
The greatest lesson I have learned..... you can't be where you aren't, I am just here. So glad to be.
Thrilled that Dan and I are getting past the setting the table stage at camp. Talking.... learning about each others lives. We actually aren't so terribly different. I have a feeling my hubby and him will be great friends.

I have learned a lot about myself through Dan. His compassion for  the kid in me ........that had none for myself. Learning I wasn't quite the extreme monster I saw every morning on my way to school.... he saw a human being. I like this starting over business. Push the reset button.... like I tell my kids.
Thanks Dan...my man. What a gift. I am so glad we are friends.

It's Just A Lovely Ride

I am so heavily influenced by James Taylor. I am listening to "Secret Of Life"......which I

happen to think is one of the greatest songs ever written. It has affected me since I was a sophomore in high school when it came out. I think about the same time Dinosaurs were roaming. I hitched many rides on them. If you haven't heard this song, it's definitely a good one to think about. I remember sneaking into one of James Taylor's concerts when I was sixteen.

It was a school night beginning of junior year. Saundra Orlaski ...... who I had met that previous summer at Camp Maria Stella....... were both headed off to the concert together. We were Camp Counselors together. Well, not exactly.

I started out as a Counselor In Training. CIT. Than..... after training...... grueling for a lazy city girl, I became a very reluctant counselor. Not just on my part..... believe me. The staff were

reluctant to keep me on, I am quite sure. I did not take things seriously, was very zany..... to say the least!

I was such a sea sloth. So lazy and wanted nothing more but to be a camper myself! I was fifteen turning sixteen that summer. I told a little fib to become a counselor. I said I was almost seventeen. The kids in my cabin were twelve. Now do you get the joke? I was just getting out of the fifteen year old stage myself ! Now a good old remedy for any fifteen year old......

Boones Farm Wine with my friend and fellow Counselor Sherri. We would sneak out when we thought our little angels were asleep. Meet up somewhere in between our cabins.

Laying our heads down on that dirt mountain road....... and laugh and drink our Boones Farm wine. Sherri was a year or two older than me. She seemed to know the ropes a lot better about all this sophisticated drinking. I think she'd whip out her cig's. We would lay there for what seemed an eternity.......looking up at that sky. I had never known a friend like her. She got me through that summer. Our friendship didn't stand the test of time. I'm grateful for those times,

with only the stars to light the night. We would talk for hours. I miss those star filled nights.

Now Saundra was something else.... let me tell you. She was the swimming teacher..... period. She swaggered around like nothing I had ever seen. She had such attitude. She didn't take guff from anyone. I was in awe of her. She had just graduated from high school......was three years older than me. She may as well have been twenty years older.It just seemed like she was born with raw confidence and 'tude! She didn't particularly like the kids it seemed ...... but it was a summer job.

I remember she was the only one who really got paid decent money. The Camp was for

inner city kids...... so most of us volunteered. At first I wanted to go home in the worst way I can ever tell you. I wanted to be in my dirty bedroom and do as I pleased. I was not big on exercise. Hiking was the deal..... after all we were in the mountains. I always prayed I could go back on the truck with one of the fat kids that would bitch they couldn't make it up another switch back. Usually one of the nuns went back. Aha..... sure they were on to my game.

I really started coming out of my shell at Camp. Humor...... practical jokes. I was terribly

irresponsible. Oh the thought of me in charge of someones child. Down right frightening.

I was a child. A child who wanted to play. One who had very stinky tennis shoes. For some reason I never wore socks. People would come in my cabin and really want to faint.

I am not exaggerating. It was that bad. Like I said..... I was a swine. Somehow those kids still liked me. I hope I didn't traumatize them too much.

When summer finally ended I cried so hard. I missed that place and all the people I had bonded with. It really changed me. It was an all Girl Camp...... so it was really just fun and carefree. Swine dome was actually okay. We all were....... what we were. That was the summer Elvis died. I was in the pool at Camp and there was a thunder storm. It was raining. I was not an Elvis Presley fan. I was just turning sixteen yet I saw how it affected people. It was a very eery feeling with that thunder storm in the pool. I still remember it. Funny the things you remember.

Saundra was really quite something. I haven't thought of her in years. Anne, my sister and I

were both counselors the same year. The year before, she and my other sister Mary had been counselors. We are definitely all in the family when we do things. If memory serves me.....

my mom wanted Anne and me to go to Camp this particular year because of our car antics.

I wrote previous stories..... but we were mini hoodlums that took the family wagon for joy rides without drivers licenses. Hmmmmmm. dem were the days! So innocent compared to now.

I think I remember "The Secret Of Life" so much..... in such a tender way, because of Julie.

She was the Nature Counselor for lack of better title. Julie had just graduated from high school too, as many of the other girls. She was so natural, peaceful..... funny.

After all these years I still see her face so clearly. She would bring her guitar...... sit around the campfire...... sing and play. She loved James Taylor as well. That's how I knew about the song, "The SecretOf Life." Julie was driving to college up north that fall......got in a car accident on the freeway. She didn't make it. I'll never forget Julie. I am sure all who met her were touched by her simple beauty and love. She was quite unforgettable.

This is a very long road..... from driving to that James Taylor concert.... that I was not supposed to go to with Saundra Orlaski. My very first concert of his ever. The best. Worth every ounce of trouble I got in! "Secret Of Life" is playing right now. "Try not to try too hard..... it's just a lovely ride".......

oh James...... you know how to say it just right.

My Mythology

As my husband and I were sitting in one of the aisles at Barnes and Nobles book store.......

of course in the self help section....... where else? No brainer. We both joke about the books

we need to read. His light reads on ..... being distracted often. Throw in a tad bit of depression on occasion.

Laughter seems to be the key to what makes us tick. Being married for twenty six years, knowing each others every little trigger, irritatants...... we get the biggest kick pointing out the obvious. We love to push each others buttons in a very dry humor sort of way.

If anyone else did this....... hmmmmmmm. This has been built on The Rock of Gibraltor of trust.

We just happened to be looking at the usual happy fare reading. He was checking out ADD and I was heading into the Narcissistic Family...... having grown up with such a bonding group! We are both swimming with thoughts in our own worlds. Pointing to paragraphs, long sighs..... aaahhs, from each others books.

I am a person who needs to talk things through. My hubby churns it through in his brain.

We are an interesting combo just right there. I drive him insane. Communication......

TALKING. He is a very deep thinker. I speak whats on my mind. Our daughter is much like her papa.

True to form our son is like mama...... needs to communicate. Somehow it works in our family,

with wounded feelings on occasion. A very off beat sense of humor seems to work for us.

Simply saying " I am sorry", combined with a big ol' hug does wonders.

Our words...... for when we really are wanting change..... feel bad, stumbling are......

can we start over, push reset button. Everyone gets that one, and the courage it took the person saying it.

Back to looking at my book on narcissistic families. I was reading a particular page of interest.

I felt deep pain welling up. It was as though a script of my life had been ripped out and pasted in this book. A woman had spoken of how badly she felt of herself as a child. She was recalling

a time in her life...... the most defining time. She was sixteen years old, and met and older

man. She ran off with him.......her parents never stopped her. She had always been a good girl, but saw herself as this wicked terrible person. It took her many years to find herself,

he was very abusive to her. She said if she had known or ever for one second thought there would have been another choice to move in with friends, get an apartment..... she would have.

I was literally hyperventilating while reading this. Seriously..... the room started spinning. I showed this paragraph to Ray. The tears could not, would not stop.

I have been in full reality the level of cleaning out process I am in. I wanted to keep going.

The similarities...... myself being a sixteen year old moving out with an older man.

The jist of what I really got from this family behavior.......... my mother fed me many reasons why this was normal and acceptable.

This was very difficult for me to read....... understand. Really put together my thoughts as I was sitting in the aisle. I was looking at Ray trying to ground myself. Everything I was reading about narcissism. I wasn't stupid or bad or less. I just came from a family that had a severe amount of problems. Starting with a husband and wife.... my mother and father. They had no idea how to parent. Children raising children..... as they remain today. I waited and waited for them to grow up. It just never happened. Their wounds remain too deep. Only writing this, I can much

more easily, and with slight grace step into these new shoes of understanding. Less hostility and hopelessness. Which I am learning and seeing by the second.... is not mine. Their fear has been

so all consuming for them. I have breathed it in as though it were mine.

I am reclaiming my power now.The true and real problem......... I was never stood up for. Fought for. I was not the most difficult kid. I was just a kid who left home, like the girl in the story. A sixteen year old who wanted to know she was worth being fought for. Not being told.....

"It was easier when you left." Trust me....... no one wants to hear those words.

''We wanted you back. We loved you so much.... it broke our hearts." Those are the words every sixteen year old longs to hear no matter how rebellious your parent claims you are. They did not come for me. Not even pretend. Off I went into the night.Did they even know where?

Simply..... "We never had a phone number to contact you." That is all she wrote. This is

where the pain lies. Next. Replaceable you. I am one of six children. I am a number in that family...... just as each other of the five are. I deeply mourn all our pain. To be invisible.

For those of us that have had to light our own paths....... could we not lighten up on our selves.

We did the best we could raising ourselves. Forgiveness comes in time. It takes longer when there is no one to light the way.What a miracle we are for getting here.

I have a family who needs me one hundred percent. I need me one hundred percent.

All I can do is collect myself from the aisle from Barnes and Noble. Maybe treat myself to the yummiest frogurt. Know for certain a hug and "I love you" always awaits me in my home. It always awaits anyone who enters my home. Always...... no question.

We all have built that together here. Nothing will ever be more important in these four walls I live in. This is how I let go. I identify ......I am just feeling it to my roots. I will not own what was never mine.

I have owned way too much. Time too lay down the gauntlet...... time to lighten up. This is just mythology and it is no longer mine. It makes me tired thinking about it. The good news.....

the load is once again lightening........

What Is A Mom?

Albert Brooks is one of the most underrated actors, in my opinion. In the movie "Mom,"

which he wrote and co-starred in with Debbie Reynolds, he moves home as a middle aged

man, trying to figure out where his life has gone awry. At first his mother, Debbie Reynolds, is completely clueless why he wants to do this....... but by the end of the movie, she changes as much as he does. I have seen this movie more times than I can count. I am a big fan of the subtleties of life that Albert Brooks takes us through. The dry humor, that is so real it is almost nauseating for those of us who have lived certain oddities! The pain that we see, unfiltered,

raw...... through his sometimes brash and rusty armor he has taken off, laid aside...... let us in.

I understand him so much, his quest...... Why? I have been on that non stop quest to try to make sense of where I come from. Why I behave the way I do. I, too have tried to go back, short of

moving in with the folks again, to find out why? It has unfortunately not brought the wonderful resolution as in the ending of the movie that Albert Brooks experienced.

I once again visited home, as many other times before. Her home is within twenty minutes of where I live.

My tolerance for things in life has increased the older I have gotten, but deceased with my Mom.

I have tried in every conceivable way to rectify this situation. Endless stories I have written about this woman. The problem for me is and always be..... the name. The words MOM attached to her's. So confusing, such a contradiction. Sheer pain. I have walked away so many times,

only to come back to try again..... she's my mom. This weekend, the after affects hit hard, once again.... from seeing her.

It had me come to some deeper realizations about the affects this woman leaves on my soul.

It is not that I don't realize that she has always informed anyone within ear shot my business.

From the tender age of twenty, people that were near strangers would come up to me and state:

Your mother tells me you are getting a divorce..... you left your husband, why? It went on and on through the years. Nothing was off limits... whatever suited her fancy.

When I tried to explain why I couldn't be around her, needed to take a break but loved her, she would tell people I was in a Cult. As the years went on, went through a deep depression and learned I was Bipolar, she would announce it to anyone and everyone my most private details. These were things I hadn't told anyone, yet I wasn't allowed the dignity of sharing

in my own time. My friends I hadn't seen in years knew, because of her lack of boundaries. I didn't even have a chance to get comfortable with myself first.

She would announce anything, usually what she perceived negative. Get it off of her..... point the finger wherever she can. Never the positive. A couple of days ago, she started

in again. It always takes me a little while to process the level of betrayal. I was sending out my writings to some Publishers .........it wasn't that I just started shaking and cracking from general

nerves. It was the undermining that I realized I allowed myself to still be part of. During the night I felt like an earth quake hit me....... and I was shaking, being ripped apart. I was shaken to my foundation. I realized, how can I allow this anymore? I know what love is. I certainly was not shown it. Have worked my whole life to find it, be a part of it, know it, and hopefully in some very small way....... try to spread it.

This anger, rage, bullying, unkindness, backstabbing....... and then throw Religion into it. All in the name of God. I am going to burn in Hell so she tells me. For simply living life according to me, finally. She will pray for my soul. I burst. I have tried. So hard. Ridiculously. Each time I have come back, trying with love. My heart is broken. It needs to heal.

I have no more to give to an unhappy woman who will not look within. I have wanted nothing more, than to be able to be with her in her final years. My soul is crying. It is scorched and on fire.

I need to now put a salve on it and heal. Really heal. There is nothing more I can do, and that is the greatest conflict I have..... pain. What I do realize. I cannot subject myself to this unhappy, angry woman's tirades and wrath anymore. I cannot afford to. I crumble and break. She gives it no much as an afterthought. Mine or anyone else's devastation. She chooses to shut it all off...... point fingers at.......the nearest and dearest. Those who show her kindness.

My heart hurts. It is Valentines Day. I am surrounded by love in my home. I am typing on the new laptop my Raymond gave me for Valentines Day. I cried and cried because I felt so unworthy. What I need to do is wrap myself even tighter in it..... the warmest, plushest blanket made of purple velvet. It is her world...... the cold, dark anger. I do not accept the

residue from my mother's poison. Inappropriate, thoughtless public discussions about her daughter. Unkind words.

They have seared me. Made me slow to trust that I am loved ....... I am enough just as I am.

I am learning. All I have are my words, my truth. This is my heart. I am who I am.

This is all we really have anyway..... when we cut to the chase. Our hearts. What do we really want to say? We can dance around..... or we can get to the heart.

I choose the second one. No matter the consequences, that's all that really matters.

-Clare

I Have Changed

I don't know if I want to be your friend anymore...... I have changed and you don't really want to. I thought you did. Really, I listened to your words..... your actions tell another story.

We are not the same. I will no longer listen to you telling me that we are. This right I have earned on my own.... hard earned. I am my own person. I just figured that out! I stake my claim, it is mine. I will not go back into the dark cave I came out of... for you or anyone else.

It is no longer my responsibility for the steps you take, or don't. Two steps forward one step back. That worked for me. The no steps is what did me in. I don't want too pretend anymore.

The burden on my soul is too great. My hearts just not in it.

It drains me and takes me to places I can no longer afford to linger in. Darkness and fear and

drafty hallways. I am ready to bask in the sunshine..... drink in all that bright light. I am more than okay with whatever choice you make in life for yourself. I get it now. It took me a little while to understand. You hide things so magnificently...... I did not see the whole picture. Bit by bit. What a relief to let go and finally understand. This is what you really wanted all along. It was me who didn't, wouldn't look. If you really wanted a different life you would be actively pursuing it. I feel a pressure coming off me. I wasn't listening. You gave me all the clues. I think both of us will breath a lot easier now.We have differences how we view life. Cool. Let's just agree to disagree. I love that!

I accept what is important to you...... but it's not what rocks my world.

My family, my husband, building a constant bridge..... is what will always be my number one.

You are kind and loving. I just can no longer be on your time table. My clock is finally ticking.

I need to claim my life. Every step I have taken has been built from quick sand..... that I alone have had to turn into a concrete foundation.

I love you, but am no longer willing. It is not healthy for either of us. This is finally a love letter to me. To my darling Raymond. To my incredible Matthew and Katie. Sorry it has taken mama

so long to catch on. The light switch is blarin bright. We all deserve more. Follow the leader.

I don't think so. Time to stand up and be counted. I am standing on my tippy toes so I can pretend I am 5'5. that's some serious perching.

Your mamas on a reinvention campaign. So is your wife, Raym. I vow to be the leader I was meant to be. No more hiding. I will lead myself, even and especially when scared.

I dedicate myself to listening to my own voice, thoughts. Asking for help..... good sound help..... when I need it. I honor myself and my family. I love all of us. We're a team.

Layer by Layer

I wrote this 5-19 09 and revised it. Wow my writing has changed, a lot of cleaning up!

This was not so long ago when I only wrote in free hand. Could barely read it. I am in a forgiveness theme if you couldn't tell! I do hope you enjoy my story> As I wrote this story, it turned into a completely different one. These were the days I never wrote about myself..... all metaphors, or so I thought. This one sounds kind of good to actually do!

The most decadent chocolate layer cake on the table, right in front of me. Taunting me. So beautifully presented, I didn't want to disturb it's artistry. So sinfully rich and moist, begging to be eaten.

I was a goner and I knew it. Where was my tall frosty mug of iced cold milk, to accompany this

treasure? The first couple of bites......I realized I had not even begun to dig into the countless layers that awaited my trembling taste buds. The joy I felt was simply intoxicating.

As I realized this cake perched before me..... was all mine. The speed of the fork in my hand increased, as I dug into the second layer of this mouth watering delight.

The ice cold milk pouring down my throat at break neck speed. Something felt slightly off.

As delicious as the second layer was it didn't compare with the first. I shrugged it off ready for layer three. Yum, another flavor...... yet I detected something slightly off, once again.

Did the baker add a tad too much baking soda, maybe a pinch of salt was off. What is this slight bitterness I am detecting? I down some water this time. Maybe that was the problem,

a combination thing. Was the milk bad? In my overwhelming lust for this bit of heaven, I probably just wasn't paying attention.

Satisfied with this possibility, and a tummy that was gurgling, yet still yearning for more.... I dug into layer four.

Much less gusto, as my fork did not pick up the pace so quickly. Another beautiful layer dipped into my

mouth. Lazily resting on my tongue for a spell. This time no hurry to dive down final

destination ..... tummy! No question, I was beginning to sputter a little. This stuff tasted bitter.

A sinking feeling set in. I began to realize, after drinking every beverage in the fridge......

this taste of sour is not coming from the cake. It is coming from me. On my taste buds.

I am sick to my stomach from all the sugar. The room is spinning. I look at my beautiful cake.

Some of the flowers of blues and greens are still visible on the top, of this now very lop sided cake. Somehow my name has managed to survive. This turns my stomach somehow even more.

I am conscious enough to look down at my fingers covered in layers of chocolate. So, these too were my fork. I now remember. I touch my face and the thick, dark, once delicious treat now feels like mud. I lean over the sink and wash the cake off. How did the sticky flower frosting get all over my hands... face, hair? As the water flows, I watch the ingredients, of this once magnificent cake, now turn into a vibrant rainbow of colors, wash down the drain.

My breath is still, just like my emotions. Wave after wave hits me, as I lay down on the kitchen floor. My head feels as though I have been in the mightiest storm, crashing now on a reef.

The sadness and hurt I have been holding inside, now knocking at my door. I am in a rip tide...... Time to answer that door.

I realize as I look over at the table, where this all began. I walk over to this once beautiful cake,

and dig in, again. Now my hands feels like paws. It takes some time to make my way. I did not realize how many layers were in this thing. I begin to rip it up. Throw it around. I am finally getting to the bottom layer. The mess I am making is so uncharacteristic of me. One who does not like to lose control. I am once again covered head to toe. I no longer care. It just so feels good.I like these new animal instincts. I realize how well they would have served me earlier on.

I am primal.... my heart feels so light.

I walk into the bathroom, turn the shower on, feel rejuvenation.... rebirth.

Everything is not perfectly lined up. How unbelivably freeing! I smear the cake and frosting all over my body like the most delightful, pampering, exotic spa treatment.

I laugh, feeling so much lighter. Layer by layer.

Movin On Down The Road

Last night I felt one hundred years old. I was more exhausted than I could put into words.

Every time I write, I unwrap more of myself that has been far... buried, hidden away.

It shocks me, and I am the writer. I thought I knew myself so intimately, so well. Had this part

of my life pretty buttoned down. Time to move on down the road. Next. This morning I was reading more things on forgiveness. I wrote down a few sentences. Smack...... it hit me like a thunder bolt. I understand, thought I always understood the meaning of service. Giving service.

I have met a couple of gals in the last year who have changed my perspective significantly. They have helped me see service as not a chore...... but as a part of life. Joy.

One dazzlingly beautiful ray of sunshine who I have nick named Cracklin Rosie, has reconnected me to the exuberant spirit of my youth. She teaches me about the sheer joy of cleaning a bathroom. She brings out the playfulness- I had forgotten. She makes me remember. Today for some reason, my heart connected fully with her message.

I was cooking breakfast, listening to Andrea Bocelli. Cracklin tells me Mambo Italiano is

the way to go to get the house spic and span. That is barely a fingertip of an explanation about who this fabulous woman really is.

The body, spirit of this unbelievably talented artist, that is Cracklin. The words, exquisite. Masterpieces, jewels from the heavens, she writes. Spanning across

space...... time. Bringing us all to a higher place of joy...... knowing.

Another one that has inspired me through her beautiful, soulful....... uplifting words.

Char. Such a gentle spirit, who let's her words so beautifully guide and inspire. Char and Cracklin are friends. I came much later to the game. Both are from entirely different worlds,

different styles....... yet not so different at all.... in heart and message. Funny, charming,

a depth that has no limits. Always learning, searching. Char has a compassion to her that

I have witnessed ...... it humbles me. She feels so sister like to me...... which feels so strange yet normal. Her heart is so genuine, I am glad we are friends. She teaches ..... without us even knowing we are learning. She takes us into her dance of light, and shows us that we too are born to shine.

Last but not least, this gal is one I have known for a good twenty years. She is a sister to me as well. She is Patricia. We reconnected this year again on Face Book. We had not seen each other in about five years, and along time before that. I have always loved Patricia.

Her gentleness. What an artist. I saw her recently, and had mistakenly thought a famous

work of art........ was hers. She laughed. I just remembered her style...... much credit to you Patricia. Quite an impact your beautiful art made on me. This shy, beautiful, old world

romantic girl. I am so happy we have made our way back in each others lives... hearts.

I am movin down the road, with the help from a lot of people. I am letting go and letting love in. I am accepting we cannot do this alone, we all need love. Interaction, friendship.......

connection. I had shut myself off from all that for so long. It was just my family, my hubby.

Poor fellow having to listen to me! I love my friendships with these amazing women.

I have mended very torn fences with my sisters and written extensively about our healing.

That is such an amazing and once impossible thought in my head. Grace is the only thing that comes to mind. I am now working on the most painful... and I believe the most necessary.

Where it all began. The original wound...... with my mother. I want more than anything to forgive her.... all the way through. Especially while she is still here on Earth. Writing about my Aunts death yesterday had me thinking about what my heart and soul want..... needs at this stage.

Peace....... to have the ability to really move on down the road with lightness in my steps.

It is the next stage today... I am declaring it. It is bigger than me. I now have the tools, the friendships, the love, the roadmap....... How appropriate..... "The Prayer, by"Andrea Bocelli and Celine Dion just came on.

Goodbye Aunt Joan

The phone rang and I was surprised who was on the other end. Katie spoke for a few moments, and handed it off to me. My dad's voice greeted me...... short of breath. Even though I knew it was him, it still caught me off guard. Listening to Katie's sweet melodic laugh, soothing him with lulling words of comfort. Simple acts of kindnesses that are so Katie. He is on oxygen, so it takes a minute or so for him to relax, acclimate sometimes. My dad never calls...... maybe once every 5 or 10 years, so I wondered what was up? He was telling me about his exercise program, everyone who is on Weight Watchers.

I know their exact weight, probably more than they do. Down to the 1/4 pound they lose or gain, when I visit or talk on the phone with him.

Donna, mom's friend is down eighty three pounds. Rockin. "She has that farm in the back. You know she has a goat, too." Well, this phone call was not just about mom's Weight Watchin Friends, and how long he did the exercise wheely thing. He does for three hours a day.... sometimes five. His Aunt,

one of my favorites... Aunt Joan had died. I thought maybe it had just happened today.

He was calling now to let me know what the details were. What I did piece together.... she died last week. This was his mothers

best friend, favorite sister. Aunt Joan was also my father's sisters best friend. They were only four years apart in age. I was really listening as my father spoke. I asked him if he was okay?

He pushed those words away in a hurry.... said he didn't want to call to make me upset.

Now........ my brain is doing this..... deee dooo deee dooo. Just like a computer. I am perfectly calm, asking questions. I am thinking: am I somehow on crack, do I sound upset? Have hysterics set in and no one told me? This is actually, strange as it would seem one of those things I am well equipped at. Hospice has taught me so much. More than anything, I was just listening to what he was telling me. What I realized, when I finally took myself out of the equation... he was in deep grief. Needed to process this before he could even place this call.

All his old wounds were fresh. Memories of his mom. His sister who had left him so long ago.

He was the only surviving member of his family. All those memories came flooding back when he thought of Aunt Joan. Childhood thoughts of growing up in New York/NewJersey area.

She was really something else. Her humor was dark, dry...... just funny. I always told her she sounded like Marge Simpson on The Simpsons when I called her on the phone. She moved back to Oregon, about fifteen years ago to live with one of her daughters. Those Florio sisters were not the lightest in spirit. They carried heavy luggage from their people. Life had not been so easy in their household. My grandma and her sisters

grew up in New York. Life was a struggle from day one. Both parents came from Italy. They spoke only Italian in their home. Their father died early on, and mother was very ill with diabetes when they were young women. Money was always an issue.

I called them Charlies Angels, when I was in high school. Those Florio Sisters. That's just how I was, a smarty pants. When I really started going to town watching them..... two of them looked like Barry Mannilow in drag. I got more mileage out of that one. That would have me in hysterics. Little Grandma would just laugh. I am not lying. They really did! I am laughing, wondering if I will be looking like Barry Manilow in drag... soon enough. Well, I am only half Italian,

maybe that Scottish side will kick in, keep my nose down to a dull roar. How is it that our noses grow? Is that an Italian thing, or just the misfortune of everyone, as we age? I'll have to ask my about Doc that one. I don't want him to look at my schnoz too close. Possibly suggest that Carl Malden and I have more similarities than he once thought.

I used to take Little Grandma and Aunt Joan on outings. If that wasn't fun..... I don't know what was. Two opinionated Italian women. Fabulous, funny. There was this outlet for clothes I used to take them to. Now, these two gals did not like to spend money, even if they had it.... on themselves. They were very generous with others. That's just how they were! So, we'd go to this strip mall outlet. It was in El Monte.... it's all coming back to me. Not the nicest place to hang out at.

These two would jump out of my car and look at their polyester finery with sheer giddiness.

Now, you know there has to be something in it to amuse me. I love my gals like nobody's business, buy these gals were shy, proper....... Italian Catholic.

With outlet shopping, the clothes are such deep discounts, somethings gotta give.

Here's my pleasha! We would ...... no I would have 400 things in my arms, as these frothing

gals couldn't wait to try on their treasures. Aaahh..... then the curtain would open.

Giddiness would turn to horror, as fifty other older gals were packed like stuffed sausage

[Anne, that was for you] in this tiny make shift dressing room. Biggest under wear and

I think they were bras...... that I have ever seen in my life.

Laughing, checking them selves out... having the greatest time. These gals had to have been

ninety plus. I am teasing about all of this. It was just a shocker seeing the gigantic underwear.

Believe me...... it's not like I wear a thong. But ..... these things were sail boats, masts. Islands.

Watching Little Grandma and Aunt Joan have to let go, to try on their finery was the most fun.

They were the cutest little girls. Shy, waiting for the place to clear out. Really ... we had to wait it out. Now I see where I get my tendencies for waiting things out. Especially in public places.

They were so happy with their clothes. My thrill was sneaking up to the counter and buying everything they loved, while they were still tripping out in the dressing room. I knew where those little girls from New York came from. Those girls that wanted, too. They came from so little. My love for those sisters......

When Little Grandma died, about 6 or 7 years ago, a piece of all of us went with her.

On the flip side, so much of her is in all of us. We are learning to pull it out of us.

Love. To simply love. From a simple, uneducated woman. That's what some would say.

Not me. Not those who knew her. She knew what was most important. How to hold

a hand. Really hold a hand and send God's love through it. I felt it each and every time.

Her comfort was like none I have known. I wish I could manufacture it. Not for selfish

reasons. So everyone could feel what it felt like. To feel Grandma's touch. To know to your soul that you were her one and only. Everyone of us grand kids take that with us. We cherish it.

I know you were there waiting for Aunt Joan, Little Grandma. Your best friend came home to play. Aunt Nina welcomed you first, her mama. I bet that was some celebration to see your daughter....... after all these years. I bet there has been non stop parties in all your names.

You three girls, I can see it now. Strolling Fifth Ave...... with the fanciest hats and coats.

How beautiful you all look. There is a parade in your honor. Bask in the sun light.

Until we meet again. I miss you all so much. I can feel the joy now that you are reunited once again. You taught me so many things, my fine Italian ladies.

It is okay to want the finer things. To love beauty. To laugh large. Cry when it hurts. Diamonds do sparkle and shine......... all I have to do is think of the three of you. Your hearts were pure and true. You showed me raw feelings were okay. Express how you feel to those you love. Be who you are, because that is who you are. Infuse love into all the food you cook. Take very good care of my family, and be so very grateful for the love in my life. I felt truly loved by all three of you, down to my toes. I know you are taking care of each other. Take care of my girls for me, until we meet again.......

Floating

So much activity surrounded these moments. It would be truly impossible for me to have the absolute accurate account, from a three year olds perspective. Much is bits and pieces from my parents..... the rest is my memory and my souls knowing.

I remember very accurately laying in my hospital bed, listening to the doctor telling my parents I would not make it through the night. I had a severe case of pneumonia, and had already been taken to one local hospital near our home and family doctor. He suggested to my mother it was time to bring in the big guns. On to Los Angeles Children's Hospital [That's where I was hearing this Doctor talking to my parents.] I felt my body leave..... I was watching them from under the crib- like bed. It seemed normal. My dad looked so sad. I still have a hard time talking about this. Allowing people to grieve.... feel the way they need to. Perhaps that is why I love Hospice. The need to understand grief, life, letting go....... death. To be with a person fully with your love. Your full attention in their most frightening times. Calm another's fears. Just be present.

What I saw and felt..... my mothers nothingness expression. It was as though I had already died. She was done with me. Simply had moved on.... gone. No one was home anymore, in her eyes. It is unbearable to express these feelings as I write. I searched her face. Hold my hand mommy. Tell me everything is going to be okay. Don't leave me...... I'm not gone yet, look I'm still here. Daddy is crying.

Am I not worth a tear drop. No emotion ...... I searched, I scrutinized through my three year old eyes. Off I went ....... further and further away. Soaring over the other children on the ward.

I saw each and of every one of them. Some with with cancer, leukemia. Other's who were dying. I knew.....something in me had changed. I could feel their pain, loneliness, fear.

I looked into their eyes as I floated.

It was unbearable. The worst part is ....I could feel who was going to die.

I have been put under hypnosis many times. Through the years I've had nightmares and visions

I couldn't get out of my head. It all came out finally when I was ready to accept this part of myself. I denied it, didn't like it. Felt like a true freak. I went to Hypnotherapy School.

I studied what the mind was capable of. I have never stopped.It fascinates me. That is my guilty pleasure. I can't get enough information crammed into my brain. Learning how our brain works.... how everything is related. I realized, much later of course..... through many years of therapy and self education...... it was way too scary for me to hear that Doctors

diagnosis that night in the hospital. I needed my mom to comfort me. That wasn't going to happen. I just went away instead.

I have been able through the years to see those kids faces..... as I became an adult. I allow myself to watch now. The pain is searing..... to see their aloneness. To truly feel it, and embrace it. I have always been extremely sensitive, feeling others emotions. Usually to my detriment in the past. I am learning to love this side of me that taps into people, instead of rejecting it. It is all part of my tapestry that makes me...... me.

I have learned only recently about illness and myself. I have had one form of illness or another my entire life. I have had an unbelievable fear of death with illnesses, that have not always been complex. Even things that were simple, I overreacted.

I have spent a lot of my days in Doctor's offices. Just in the past year or so..... I think I am

beginning to crack the Clare code. It comes in a couple of forms. Knowing.... accepting with

all my being that I have a right to be on this planet. My mother simply did not know how to show love. I was worthy of love....... but was a tender hearted little girl who needed her mommy. I lived my life looking to people.... for acceptance....... please love me.

I beg you, as though my life depended on it. To that three year old, it did. I am learning to fill up that hole...... those deep wounds that started so young. Misperception. My mom still is who she is. She will never be what I need.... she is what she is. She will always be the child. I have to reach out to, hug, risk...... she cannot, will not..... too much damage..... I don't know. I don't even think I care anymore. My illnesses have kept me from really living...... fully. I have needed to forgive myself. Whatever I saw with those children, in the hospital: it haunted me that I lived.

I cannot explain the feeling I have in my soul.... the knowing. Children have always been my priority. Mine..... my kids friends..... volunteering. Up at my kids school. Still now...... adult children, the worlds children. Whatever I felt was so painful then, is actually coming full circle in my life. I have not wanted to bring that side of myself forward. Feeling so deeply. It is agonizing sometimes. I don't think I would have it any other way now. The gift I am learning my mother has given me...... what I have felt a lifetime of rejection from her. I push through situations like nobody's business. Having her for a mother ...... it's like the best possible training ground

for wanting to achieve the impossible. Everything you say to her is going to be answered with a negative..... a rebuttal. Questioning yourself, dragging your ass out.... and wishing a car would run over you. Yet I wanted that woman's approval more than you can imagine.

She is old now, her life is winding down. She has a very good heart and means well.

I don't want to hurt her. I want to heal the rifts we have had through the years. I have tried endlessly. I think I have over thought this one. She is who she is. I have not accepted her. I have been very angry at her. I have tried to change her..... show her. I know writing this..... I have wanted payback. Passive aggressive of course. For all the digs, cruelty, low blows..... I liked getting her where she lived. Not having love in her life. She would try to make me feel as though it were a sin.... or I were a criminal that Ray loves me so much. That I was lucky.

She would pull out every punch. I did not understand..... until this moment, she spoke so deeply of her own wounds. I am humbled. I am not proud. I do not have a tie up happy ending to this story. It is just a story. What a three year old learned, when she overheard a Doctor speak of her demise.... to her parents. I simply went floating.

Liverwurst Sandwiches

On hot dog and hamburger day, I thought I died and had gone to heaven. There was always left over buns from the hot dog and hamburgers. The makeshift cafeteria sold them for a nickel or a dime. I would

feverishly scrounge up the money, or do some serious begging. Sad, but true. A gal does whatever it takes ....... when she smells fresh buns a cookin. I was so jealous of the kids who could afford to buy more than one

hamburger or hot dog. They had to be rich. I figured out peoples social status by two things.

Remember...... this is grade school, my world was slightly limited. Everyone wore a uniform. First things first, what were they sporting in their lunch pails? Let's not even go there about cool lunch pails. It was never gonna happen in my lifetime as a kid, dream on. I lived vicariously through many a St.Lukatrazer. {How funny, I haven't said or thought St. Lukatraz since I was a child.} Partridge Family, Brady Bunch....... now those lunch pails rocked.

Need I say more? On to the nuts and bolts of what was going on in those lunch boxes.

Let's start with twinkies and fritos. There was definitely some big bucks going on there. Parents must have been loaded! Definitely had double doors on the front of their house.{Another Clare marker for wealth, as a child}

When you really started diggin into some serious gold...... candy bars.... full size. That was crazy making.

Did they have a chaffeur? The kids with those soup thermos, all warm and toasty on a rainy day.

Well, let's just say they were my arch enemy. I knew their moms were the kind that made really yummy snacks when they got home from school.... probably fresh baked chocolate chip cookies. When some kids had certain snacks in their lunch on an every day basis.... I would have to put my tongue back into my panting puppy dog mouth. They were definitely showing off on the playground .... especially when they sported a full size bag of potato chips for recess.... and lunch.

Don't get me wrong, eating my liverwurst sandwich on frozen white bread that hadn't quite defrosted.... was pretty cool. Especially when one kid would invariably look

around and say "what smells like crap?" at the lunch benches. There was plenty of ventilation,

we were outdoors... that liverwurst, how it had a mind of it's own. Quite a smell, too.

The thing that makes me laugh right now.... thinking about those torn up soggy half frozen sandwiches with liverwurst oozing out the broken sides. Trying to act cool like it wasn't happening as Bobby and Susie were eating their ding dongs and snowballs. I would practically lick that liverwurst off my fingers as I watched those kids tossing their heads back laughing, enjoying their delicious sugary treats. Perhaps if we were really lucky, there would be an off-

off brand fake oreo cookie that had crumbled in my bag. I would scoop the contents hungrily, lost in my own heavenly high, as the remaining crumbs made a home under my nails for the rest of the day. I was quite a sight I am sure. I wouldn't have really cared. I was still a true innocent. Hmmmm... Susie's lunch looked so good.

I could just feel her mothers thoughtful hands packing that lunch box. Patting her head,

sending her off. Somehow there would always be traces of liverwurst on me. My breath,

my uniform, my skin.

On to the second knowing: Who had bucks according to Clare's world? Well, the key to this baby was of course: free dress day. With all things being equal with uniforms... there was really no telling. But free dress day, all bets were off. The fanciest of dresses would come out.

I think I may have had one or two church dresses, so....... selection was somewhat limited.

Most of my friends came from big Catholic families. Dress code was not high on the priorities

list. Home, food ..... schooling may have been a little higher up the ladder. There were really

only a few girls in particular who really stood out with dressed up fancy wear. I would

study them with endless fascination. Especially when the weather was cold and wet.

We lived in Southern California, so it rarely got that cold. I had never seen such beautiful

jackets and gloves in my life. They were truly what a Princess would wear. It was the bows on the back of the jackets that sent me over the edge. The gloves with the pom poms on them.

Sadly..... or perhaps sweetly, I had to buy myself some of those gloves, as an adult.

Of course, yes, I dolled my daughter up as a child. Who is kidding who?

I would walk home from school, and envy the kids who's moms picked them up.... everyday.

I never got how casual they were about it. I thought it must be the most amazing thing in the

entire world. To have a smiling face waiting for them, rain or shine.... asking them how their day was. It seemed too far fetched to me. I would see Leonard Maggio's mom come to school.

I thought she was so beautiful. She always came and helped out at school events. I couldn't believe some kid could have such a pretty mom. His dad reminded me of Jim Croce. How cool must that have been? It was the worst days walking in the rain. Again... praying one of my friends would take pity on me. Shame builds on that. Sometimes rain drops are just better.

It's funny looking back now..... what colored my world. The things, places, people I considered rich. My cousin and her dressing table. Her beautiful dresses. I wanted to be beautiful like her. She sure caught my dads eye. He would smile when she was around. Then there was us. I wondered as I looked at our shorn hair and simple dresses.... would I ever be a beautiful Fairy Tale Princess like her? Her castle she lived in.... it may as well have been.... compared to what we drove home to. I wanted. I wanted so badly, my own bedroom, a closet full of beautiful clothes.

Would I ever sit at a dressing table so fancy...... be beautiful with long flowing locks? I'm sure my older sisters felt similar. We felt so invisible as females. So desperately wanted to be told we were Fairy Princesses. We may have been chubby..... whatever we were.... we were. Still, we deserved to shine and sparkle like any little Princess in her own right.

Now...... we can be Fairy Tale Princesses. My daughter is the most beautiful Princess to me. She is magic, always has been...... since day one, and has always known it. I am not ready to be a Queen. I need to enjoy the step of Princess..... I have not worn those shoes yet. I wish for my sisters the same thing. Girls...... you always sparkled and shined like the most beautiful diamonds. The sky glittered with stars the nights you were born. Angels danced in Heaven at the sheer joy of just hearing your names. We are rich..... we have each other. Stardust is falling from the sky, the man in the moon is asking you both to join him.

Make a wish ladies....... find your shooting star....... greatest desire....... your dreams are coming true. Wanna go to St. Lukatraz with me and eat some liverwurst sandwiches?