The Raw and the Cooked

Did you ever have someone impact your life so greatly that all that you experienced…every part of it…reaped havoc on your soul for all of your days?

There once was a girl, 14 years old, sad, but hopeful…hopeful someone would come love her and heal her heart.  Hopeful that she could survive. Her mother was a drunk and a drug addict, who never protected her, and at 14 she was on her own.  Not knowing anything about living, but very well schooled in surviving, this was all she could do.

There once was a boy, 16 years old, angry and disturbed.  His father was a drunk who used his fists on his mother.  He told the girl he loved her and her heart swelled.  Then one day, her lip swelled and her body bruised, and she knew fear.  Fear that was stronger than all the fear she had felt before.

She dressed as he said, talked as he said, did as he said, and cried and cried.  One day he asked, “Why do you always cry when we make love.”  She learned to lay still and say nothing.

She learned to run and hide when he became angry, and she was never ever, ever to tell.  One day, the girl woke up and she knew something was different.  Time had slipped by and she had swelled, and bruised, and hidden a great deal now.  She was more afraid than ever….because she knew that she was different now.  Her heart swelled.  Suddenly, she felt love!

Soon her breasts swelled, her belly swelled, and her ankles swelled.  All day, every day, she thought about the baby.  All day, every day, she was afraid for the baby.  There was a day when he came to her and threw her to the ground.  “It’s time for you to die.”, he said, and told her how he would kick the baby out of her.  She lay on the ground holding her belly protecting her baby.  She was already eight months along.  She believed he would eventually kill her.

He threw all her belongings into the street and shut the door behind him.  She stood there in the middle of the night, cold, and afraid.  She picked up her things and walked away.  It was snowing and dark, but she felt better for walking.  She passed her parents house, and kept going, because she was unwelcome there.  She flipped them the bird.

She walked all night until she arrived at her aunt’s house and there she slept on the floor.  She tried to leave him, but he followed her.  He always followed her.  He followed her to work, he knew when she got her check and made sure he brought her right to the bank to cash it.  “Here is twenty dollars for you.” he would say.  She would be grateful.  He followed her when she was walking down the street, on the bus, or just in the bathroom.  One day he came in while she was using the toilet, he peed on her, and then just walked away.

He followed and watched, waited and accused, he hit and he screamed and he said “Get in the back seat, you slut!”  He did what he wanted…even when she choked.  He did what he wanted…even when she cried.  He did what he wanted.

One day, a baby girl was born and he wouldn’t let her hold her.  He took the baby and he told the social workers that he didn’t know what was wrong with her and how she wanted to leave him.  A woman came by to tell her to be nice to him, that he was trying so hard to love her.  Once they were home, he forgot all about them for sometime.  Then she was alone with her baby.  She sang to the baby and wrapped her in swaddling blankets, she fed her her breast milk and tried to stay healthy.

One day he was angry again, and he went to take the baby.  The baby was on the bed and could fall off, but she grabbed him and wouldn’t let go.  He punched her and punched her, but she wouldn’t let go.  He punched her in the stomach until she could not feel it anymore.  He punched her until he was tired, but she wouldn’t let go.  “I won’t let you hurt my baby! “, she yelled.  She stayed up at night thinking of ways to escape.

She went to the nuns, but he found her and brought her back.  She asked her dad for help, but his wife answered by calling her “Whore!” and shutting the door on her.  She went to the police, they took reports and put them in a folder.  She got a restraining order, but he broke into her new apartment and held her there and took their daughter.  He ripped out the phone and took the baby into the other room and wouldn’t give her back.  He stayed there for hours.

When she left her house he was hiding in her bushes….she ran and ran…she ran to the police station, but they “couldn’t do anything” because he was not there now. His brother knew the mayor of the town (yes, really!). They kept taking reports, but they could never find his folder when she needed it.  When she was on the bus, she watched constantly to see if he was following behind her.  They went to court.  She told social workers about being raped was told “You picked him!”, and “None of that matters!”  “Does he hurt the child?”

“No, he has not hurt the child, but I’m afraid he will.”, she said.

“Well, that is not good enough.”

They went to court over and over and over.  She kept losing her job for absences…he made it hard on her.  He said he was being denied his visits so he got more time. He assaulted her daycare provider, but the woman didn’t want to see him “go to jail over it.”  He yelled at the pediatrician because “he had rights and he wanted to see the little girl’s medical records, and Who the fuck do you think you are?!”

The girl was becoming a woman now and when the doctor called her to explain what happened, she asked for his help, but he did not want to “get involved in that!”

She got a lawyer, but couldn’t pay him.  His lawyer was paid by his well-off brother.  She asked some people to help her.  She asked someone to “take him out of the picture”….”give him a warning”….but they looked at her like she was crazy.  She didn’t feel crazy, she felt fear.  She called an abuse shelter, but they didn’t take women unless “they were currently being beaten.”

She called social services to get help.  She was getting an interview to tell her story! Her drunken mother called the social worker and told them horrible stories.  “She was only trying to help!”  The social worker cancelled her appointment.

The girl, becoming a woman, felt like a helpless child and cried and cried.  She was fired from her job.  She would get strange phone calls in the night…breathing…listening….waiting.  They went to court again. It was the last time.

“If you don’t stop coming in here, and straighten out your own issues, we will make your child a ward of the state!”  He would get her!  He would get her!  He would get her!

There was no help, no job, no place to live….she moved into a slum apartment building, with a slum landlord, and slum drug-dealers.  Someone was shot in front of her house.  The girl who was now a woman,  felt fear and she cried and cried.  The little girl was four now.

She had a new boyfriend and decided to get married….could he protect them?…would he protect them?.  They would have more money and she could work again.  She survived.

He didn’t protect them and he didn’t help.  He didn’t do anything. The woman had another little girl.  Now there were sisters..she taught them to love each other…she taught them to be careful…very, very careful…they had a code word for was banana.  She watched and waited and prayed every day.  Take care of my baby.  Please take care of my baby.  They moved away and she hoped it would be too far for him to travel, that he would give up.  It wasn’t and he didn’t, and when she was 12 the little girl asked to not see her father any more.  The woman, could finally breathe just a small breath at a time.  Small breaths…small breaths…small breaths.   Two years passed by and they had not seen the monster.  The girl, now 14, had been going to therapy for some time.  She was “better” now.  The woman got a divorce from the man who didn’t protect them.  He did even less and still didn’t protect them.  When she asked him to check on the children when she went to school at night, he said he would, but didn’t.  The girl, now 15, and her sister, now 11 stayed home alone.  The girl, now 15, had her first boyfriend.

As sometimes happens in divorce and otherwise….the children were confused, upset, and sad.  They pointed fingers.  “Tag!, You’re It!”  As sometimes happens in divorce and otherwise, the woman was depressed and would sometimes stay in bed, she had trouble managing money and paying for their needs.  They survived.  She didn’t know how to teach them to live.

The little girl, now a woman, married her high school sweetheart when she was just twenty, she had a beautiful baby girl, and was a good mother.  The woman did not know how unhappy her daughter was.  She did not know that the daughter was drinking or feeling depressed or that she was having difficulty.

The little girl, who was now a woman was drinking away her memories.  The little girl drank too much and too often.  The little girl was suffering and trying to do everything right, but didn’t have the support she needed.  Things happened that shouldn’t have, and the little girl’s family came apart at the seams.  The sister went one way, the girl went another, the mother went this way, and the little girl’s little girl went to live away.

The woman cried.  She cried until she had no more tears.

The little girl came to the woman and told her she remembers, she remembers what her father did to her.  The little girl, who was now a woman cried and was very frightened.  She didn’t know what to do.

The mother cried, but it didn’t help anything.  The little girl, who was now a woman drank, but it didn’t help anything.

The little girl, who was now a woman hated her mother……why did you let that happen to me?

The woman, who was no longer young, or a little girl tried to explain all that she did to keep her safe, but it didn’t help anything.  The woman knew it was her fault too.

They yelled and swore and left each other, and now the little girl is gone, the little girl’s little girl is gone, and the woman stands alone.


Curiously enough, I was watching an interview video with Dustin Hoffman this morning regarding his role in “Tootsie”. I know this is floating around the media right now because of the emotion displayed in the video (it was originally posted in 2012).

Why are we so interested in the emotional response of others? Whether it be joy, fear, pain, anger, or sadness….when any person shows emotion we are drawn to that. Any video can go viral, if you just display enough of one of these emotions.

Hey, watch this kid go totally nuts on ecstasy! Hey, look at this woman fall down the stairs! Look, this man is crying!!!!

Here is what I think we feel:

We watch the kid on ecstasy and feel the following: fear (holy crap! what is going to happen to him), elation (wow! I wish I could feel like that..just once!) shame (what a douche! when really that was us last weekend)

We watch the woman fall down the stairs: fear (omg…is she dead?) elation (I am so glad that wasn’t me!) shame (I shouldn’t be laughing at this…others getting hurt is not funny)

We watch the man who is crying: fear (what the hell is wrong with this guy!) elation (thank god I don’t cry in public!) shame (I don’t cry in public, but I cry at home….I’m an ass!)

I see a trend. The reason why we are so fascinated with emotion in others, or emotion itself is because we have polluted the water (so to speak). We have for the longest time been told that emotions are bad, they are private…you don’t bring them to work, you don’t display them for others to see, you hide them from the people who are even closest to you. We get our emotional fix by watching others who display their emotions….books, movies…tv shows…youtube videos….

We watch people we admire have emotional break-downs and then throw trash at their heads. We applaud when they go to rehab or get psychiatric help, and at the same time they are never quite as good as they were before. Not as shiny, pretty, bold, strong. These are the illusions that we set up not only for ourselves, but ten fold for everyone else.

What Dustin Hoffman “confesses” (that is the word used by the media) is that he realized by playing the role of “Tootsie”, that he had been judging women by their outer appearance and that had cost him the friendship, companionship or even love of some women he would really have liked to spend time with.

He is emotional in the interview…very much so, even though you can see he is trying very hard to hold back the flood gates. It is beautiful to watch.

Why do I think Dustin Hoffman crying on a video is beautiful?

My dad never cried when I was young….he was born 1941, grew up in the 50-60s, when men did not show their emotions. I saw him cry a total of two times before I was 40. He is 72 this September and he cries freely with me on the phone, although I can feel him trying to hold back the floodgates. What opened him to feel, was the passing on of his wife.  So many years, but that is what it took.

In my marriage to my ex-husband, if I should cry about something, he would be quick to tell me to stop and not to cry in front of my children…it would upset them. I don’t show a lot of my feelings: pain, fear, etc….I don’t even try to hide them, it has become automatic….they turn into anger if I even try to talk about them though.  I am learning to process first and speak later.

Sometimes feeling our emotions can be overwhelming. Frightening. What will people think? Will they be afraid of me? Will they think I am weak? What happens if I cry at work? Will I get fired?

One of the things we are definitely feeling now is emotional, we are here to have a human experience and humans have emotions. The problem has been that we have forgotten that, and have built impossible rules around emotions: Never show anger = I will eventually have explosive anger.  Never cry at work or in front of your children, your parents, your girlfriend…whomever = I never express my feelings because I am too afraid to do so. This causes us to keep our emotions locked away where they fester and become distorted, and can ultimately cause illness.

We then classify this as mental illness.

What is mental illness? Mental illness is what we refer to when a person has an illness that involves emotions and chemicals that the brain controls. The brain is an organ…the most important organ in our body. Without proper brain function all of our systems are in jeopardy. Our brain is the machine, the battery that sparks and ignites our synapses, and allows us to use energy to send messages to the rest of our body….mostly without concentration or even “thinking” about it. It allows us to be alive. When someone is viewed as “brain-dead” they are considered dead. They are kept alive by machines, because their “machine” is no longer working. The body remains alive, but there is no activity in the most important organ of the body.

The brain is like a sponge….it is constantly learning new things…it learns about emotions and emotional discord…it learns depression and it remembers. Once thought processes (pathways) are created through experience, we can relive them….the brain has it on file. Once the brain learns to be depressed it will more likely reoccur. It remembers.

What we need to change is how we experience our emotions. Hiding our emotions, squashing them, pretending they are not there…causes the emotion to morph and become something that we only have shame for in this society. Mental illness is a physical illness with physical and mental symptoms that can ultimately result in death. The stigma around emotion and mental illness only makes this worse.

We can reteach ourselves. The brain remembers. It remembers happiness and sadness, elation and fear, depression and stability. We are the creators. Emotions are so important to us, to who we are as humans. Feel your emotions….you will discover when you feel them and face them, and deal with them….it is so much easier to be human. The emotions pass….they don’t stay locked up waiting to become the tornado that crushes your life. They go….and you are safe and whole, and the brain remembers.

Life in the Fast Lane-Part deux

Part two

In the winter of 2008-2009, I recognized my first symptoms, but being the stubborn individual I am, I ignored them.  Sometimes being smart makes you dumb.  I was actually working full-time and going to a full-time nursing program. I recognized the symptoms for what they were, but told myself I didn’t have time for that.

I took a smoking cessation drug, and experienced the worst, most ugly depression I have ever had in my life.  I took the drug for a month, quit smoking, and the trouble started when I stopped taking it.  In 2006 the manufacturer of this drug (not naming names), knew that a person with a predisposition to depression (PTSD), should not use the drug.  In 2009, after I had taken the drug (I actually took it Nov 2008), they issued a black box warning on the drug, and on its commercials, that anyone who has this history can become depressed, suicidal, etc.  I found this out by watching the commercial on television.  I did my research, and found out that the company knew this was a possibility in 2006.  Also, it has been linked to autoimmune disorders (this is where the body acts against its’ self), such as Type 2 diabetes (which I have).  This is how my movement disorder works….it is thought (and I am still undiagnosed), that the brain sends mixed signals to the muscles when movement is occurring.  The muscles receive these signals, and act accordingly.  The signals are mixed , therefore, the muscles move against each other, and not as they should.  This causes spasm, contraction, warping of the muscle, and pain.  The muscles contract at rest as well.  This is like going to the gym every day and working out past the point of exhaustion, to where muscle failure occurs, and then damage.  The warping of the muscle, the involuntary contractions cause the muscle to tighten, twist, and work against the joints.  I have felt, at times, like a barbie doll whose legs were being popped off.  The body is in constant pain, without medication I scream, cry, vomit, and wet myself (I told you this would be raw).  I’m not ashamed, I don’t have control over my physical body.  I am frustrated to varying degrees, at various times.  I think I have painted this picture enough.

Back to the part of the story that I want you to know.  My friend, April Adams, and I, almost accidentally, started this process.  I was very ill, and not working on myself.  It just so happened that April had been working on herself, and was breaking the ice in her business as a Reiki Master.  She was still young in her process, and I didn’t even have a clue yet.  She needed a massage table for her practice.  I just happend to have one in storage in new condition, that I could never seem to sell to anyone.  I sold it to her for a fair price, and  she added 3 Reiki sessions to my price.

The very first session I had with April, was very unusual.  I have had Reiki before, but this was not just Reiki.  It was as if a bolt of lightning hit me!!  Shazaam!!!  I began intuiting that very same day.  After the session, I sat up and gave April the information that I received during her session.  I saw her brother and that he had been in Afganistan.  I asked what is with all the water….I was getting water falls, and water this and water that.  At this point, April and I knew each other through mutual friends, but I did not even know her well enough to know that she had a brother.  This was the first time we had even spent any time together.  I told her:  “You don’t even know who you are!  You are the clearest channel I have ever felt.”

The next time April came to give me a Reiki session, I intuited again.  This time all I was seeing was death, death, death….in various ways…mass graves, drowning, the electric chair.  You name it, I saw it.  By the end of the session I was shaking with goose bumps all over me.  She explained that she had plans to visit the holocaust museum.  This time I said: “There is a train coming, I hope you are ready, because you are getting on it!”

I now look back at those statements, and know them all to be true.  Except, I also know the last one, about the train….that message was also for me.  That train pulled out of the station that day, and I was already holding my ticket out for the conductor.

From there, it just grew.  I learned what forgiveness really was (from April).  My motto of, “I don’t forgive, and I certainly never forget.”, was not doing me any good.  It was a protection that I had put in place because of the emptiness I felt from not experiencing love.

I began to say this forgiveness affirmation each night before bed:

“I live in today, today is my present, and I forgive myself, and any other who may have harmed me in the past.  The past cannot effect my present.  I live in the present, and today I am grateful for my wife, my children, my 4-legged children, and that I can breathe.”

When I first began saying this affirmation, I was pretty low.  I still did not believe that forgiveness could do anything for me.  That all changed.  I continued with the affirmation, and became attuned (over time) as a Reiki Master.  I started working with this energy, and asking Source for guidance.  I asked for the ability to help myself and others through intuitive process, and over time that came as well.  First slowly, and by allowing everything to happen and not question it, I was able to go through this process rather quickly.  Much more quickly than I ever anticipated.  I call it my baptism by fire.

I am not a religious person, although from time to time I may speak about religion here.  I understand so much more than I ever have, and I know only time will tell where exactly this journey is taking me, but here you have the beginning of this journey.  Right now, I speak to people all over the country.  I work with people by giving personal readings, being their intuitive coach, when they need one, offering a support group for intuitives going through their process, I put my voice out to the public on a blog talk radio show, and now I have this blog.

This blog is a true account of my process, what I experienced, what I am still experiencing, and how I am getting from a to b.  I chose life in the fast lane for this post because….I have truly taken the fast lane in this spiritual experience.  It has only been a year and 1/2 that I have even been doing this, but my eyes are open.  The way I see things now, is tremendously different from the way I used to.  My ability to connect to Source is ever present, and I learn more about my process every day, gaining more skill, having areas of my life presented to me to work on.  Being guided and protected by Source, does not mean you are not still human.  I still have physical pain, I still cry, I still get frustrated.  I am human.  Now I have the best tools to deal with my process, and I am not bitter, just tired.

The road I am on, is not easy, but it is worth it!!  1000% worth it!