Stupid Angst...

So today something occurred that made me realize that I am completely over sensitive to loud voices; arguments, shouting. The deepest part of my incredibly sensitive self cannot tolerate this unkindness and lack of respect in any way.

Because I am very in tune to the feelings of others, I cannot imagine making my point by being disrespectful or demeaning another person. Thoughtful, intelligent discussion really is the best way to communicate your point. A woman whom I work with (not for) is elderly and deaf (she has hearing aids but will not wear them). I have never had an personal issue with her and we have always gotten along very well. We are all in the process of developing this year's fund raising event.

The other board members are my age or elderly. This woman took issue with everyone's ideas. As the meeting progressed, she became more and more aggressive. Unfortunately, I was to present the last issue which involved invitation printing. Because I am a designer, I often do these things for my select non-profits free of charge. I must say that I am quite good at it which is a reason I make my living through creative endeavors. My creativity, however, was not at issue. Because they choose a postcard format, they have little space for their verbiage - yes - a lot! So the typeset gets smaller with the more they say. A larger card is not an option they want to consider. Always limitations to work within.

Well - this woman said something and I asked her to repeat it because I didn't hear her clearly (crowded coffee shop and very noisy). She stood, postured me and started screaming. I was absolutely horrified. I can't remember anyone ever doing this to me short of my mother. I made a time out sign with my hands. I think my brain shut down. To that - she just got louder. Nastier. More disrespectful.

My instinct was to get up and leave but I knew none of this had anything to do with me. It was all her stuff. However, I got so angry I wanted to hit her. The louder she got, the more I wanted to hurt her. To shut her up. To tell her she was a nasty old cow. However, I have always been taught to respect my elders. So I bit my tongue and let her go on her tirade. I quit talking because I realized she couldn't hear me and had decided that she was going to do whatever it took to make her point. Hmmm... that she couldn't read small print any longer? Is this my fault? Certainly not having outlined the limitations clearly.

When she was done, I was so angry I stopped talking for the rest of the meeting. I froze. I wanted to cry. Crying is not an appropriate response to anger. I didn't want to appear weak. So I shut up. I let her bully me. Of course, she looked like a fool. But when she left, I looked at the other ladies and said that my time was more valuable than working with this ungrateful and nasty old woman and that I had enough stress let alone this on top of it.

So - now that I have allowed her to ruin my day, I realize that the upset stomach and pain I feel is the little girl in me who watched her parents fight nightly at the dining table. I have chosen a peaceful life where I can just discuss my emotions and hope to be heard. I am simply not into that kind of madness. I am all for constructive criticism and honest, open discussion. But I will not sit through another tirade like I did today. I will set the boundaries I had no power to set as a child.

So now comes a peaceful confrontation. Is that possible? One word is calm. The other is aggressive. I do believe in saying nothing until you have to right words. What I will hope for is a way to forgive this woman for what felt like a personal attack so I can move beyond it to the greater lesson. And I will cross my fingers that someone puts me down before I ever treat another human being the way I was treated today.

Purging

I believe that unresolved emotional pain will continue to regurgitate itself in ways we may not understand. We all carry our share of heartache but some resonates very deep or touches the part of us at our most vulnerable. To say this doesn't mean that these feelings are ever present - it just means they remain unanswered and pulse, only occassionally, like a star in the night.

Because I counsel grief and because it is most especially a difficult time for many of us, I hold others pain confidentially. Some of it resonates in my soul and speaks softly and clearly to me of old wounds never resolved. Sure, I have worked on my issues. Many times. Many times. My growth has been 100 fold and I am incredibly proud of the strength and esteem I have gathered through my life experiences. Most especially, I have retained my empathy and compassion; my giant heart. It is the quality of goodness that I hold and work intently to maintain. However, there is still that voice of certain unresolve and it leaves me confused, yet clear.

I want to address this clearly before I write. I am married to the most amazing man who is patient and tolerant of me. He is simply who he is; a husband who loves me for who I am. We are the best of friends, truly, and walk parallel to each other in this life. He is aware of all of my goodness and all of the sidesteps I have made during our times together. He also knows the whys. He has made his own sidesteps and he is also filled with goodness. His most amazing quality if that of acceptance and forgiveness. I have become more about the grace of offering these gifts in knowing him. It is like any marriage - not perfect. Perhaps many of you have that yourselves. But it is wonderful just the same because we learn more and experience more with each other. And that is where I am at this time. And I am content and happy.

Sarah MacLachlan sings, "I will not forget you." She and this song is a part of that relational confusion of my past. I once completely and totally loved a man who promised me more than he ever knew he was able to give. I believe in his giving heart, there was a sincere wish to be able to give me what I was missing due to my childhood abuse, lack of self esteem, emotional pain and my intense sadness at never being enough for anyone. I also made him promises but was crippled by the tape playing in head that for whatever reason continued to tell me I did not deserve this kind of love. We came together and separated many times. There were issues on my side. Issues on his side. I think neither of us was experienced enough to tackle the pain we caused each other, yet the ties of love or fantasy always bound us, even though we both hurt each other terribly. I also want to be clear that he has long since moved on and I am alone in my own unresolved issues. I am sure he cares on some level about my well being; how couldn't he? We grew up together and are formed from those experiences. But some powerful things he said stick and have caused me to feel paralized.

The part that reoccurs for me has to do with my abandonment issues. As an adoptee, I always felt tossed away. This was buried very deep in my subconcious. I was unaware of how this pain affected every facet of my life. My adoptive family was challenging. My father loved me as best as he was able - but he was dealing with an unfulfilling marriage and probably the pain of goals unachieved he hoped he'd reach. He just never got "there" and dealt with his issues by becoming an alcoholic. My mother was angry because her life was not that big beautiful home with the white picket fence. She wanted to be a mother, but expected something other than she got so she took her torment out on her husband and my sister and I. Most unfortunately, my sister & I continue to work at repairing the damage both of our parents inflicted. We are at least able to converse and feel empathy for each other which is big step in this short life.

In my final decision to uproot my life to spend this fantasy life with the person I truly loved more than myself (his perception is different) - I let go of all ties and security that made me feel grounded and safe. My home, my marriage, my business, my friends, my family, my inner security, etc. You must also know that some of those issues were easy to let go. Others were incredibly challenging of course. But I was totally convinced - truly and honestly - this is from the tips of my toes for sure - that I was meant to be with this person. He was my soul mate. I believed that. He made me believe that.

A few weeks - maybe two or three - before the complete transformation of my life, I was visiting him and we were having a coffee and a cinnamon roll at Heartland. It is a place long since gone but that I loved to go to. I just loved that I could "be" with him. I did have concerns because he would hold things and then I would feel punished when he brought them up. It was at that moment he told me that he really wanted to finish his degree. I would never stop someone I loved from doing anything that meant the world for them so I asked him if that was what he really wanted. It was that. Not to be selfish - but at that moment, I really needed it to be me. Partially because of all I had given up... because I needed his strength and love to anchor myself and because I was so frightened. I would say more accurately paralized with terror.
At any other time or under any other circumstance, I would have been completely open to it. But I had my work obligation to fulfill to my mentor and I simply had to work. I had signed a lease. I had to move. I had rented my home. I had to leave.

Then the words that changed the course or path of my life. I told him if that's what he wanted, then he must do what he needs to. At that moment, something slammed shut. The tapes began to run endlessly - "no one will ever love you as much as I do". Words he had uttered to me over and over again. At that moment I felt completely unlovable. I felt like a fire hydrant that had been pissed on. The pain was so deep and because my heart was closed, I was unable to express it. I couldn't even tell anyone about it that was a close friend. I was ashamed. I felt unworthy. The pain was devastating to say the least and transformed my entire life. The path I was excited to take was blocked by a giant boulder of my minds creation. And I shrunk to the size of an infant. Unable to make any decision about anything because I was in incredible pain.

And at that moment I had to make it over. I didn't say it. I never was honest about it. But I knew it from that moment. The guilt I feel for being dishonest hurts me to this day because he meant so much to me. He hurt me horribly by not considering what I had done to clear the path for us to be together. The very fact that I was unable to share my truth hurts me to this day. My pride has kept me from expressing this to this day. But the only way to let it go is to express it and ask myself for forgiveness for what could have been. What I thought should have been at that time. And I need to find the room to forgive him as well because I hold the memory of him as an arrogant, self centered person with no regard for the sacrifices I had made. He remains one who holds anything I say in a critical manner only to regurgitate it at a time he feels appropriate in order to hurt or shame me.

Somewhere, many years ago, I knew on some level he was unable to give me what he promised because in all the times he was able to fulfill his promises in words, he would regress and pull back. So I was definitely not the right person for him to be sure. I just wish he could have been honest with me as well. I guess we'll never know. Maybe in the next life when we come together again to dance the dance. I see myself as a sage so hopefully I have finally learned my lesson in this relationship.

So I have said it. That that moment altered the course of my life forever. Everything I believed had to change. I was completely resistant to it which came out in the form of a total nervous breakdown leaving me with anxiety issues and debilitating panic attacks where every painful part of my past was exposed like a fresh burn. It was the most painful time of my life. It was also the greatest gift of my life. I learned that love is expressed through actions. I knew I had expressed my love through my actions so I felt no guilt. I came to believe none of the words were true and accepted that I was part of a larger plan to fulfill someone else's desires or goals. Boy that was a tough one to accept considering how enmeshed my mind was in his life. I was in such dire need of his validation and love while at the same time stubbornly reacted to him when he would try to influence my thinking. I wanted to maintain this false sense of independence I thought I had. And with that had to come the person who learned her worth was far more than what she did for a living or for others. That I mattered and that I deserved to be loved and cared for simply for the way I was created. I had to tell myself repeated that I was perfect in every way - that I just needed to fine tune my heart and be very careful who I shared it with.

So there you have it. He reenters my life in my dream space. Some are so beautiful. Some very hurtful. All connect with special memories, both joyous and painful. All teach me about growth and loss. It can be incredibly confusing however, because of these mindful teachings, I find I am able to express myself in ways I may have once found fearful.

So to sum it up - the "beauty" of youth is truly wasted on the young of age. Only when we mature, do we find the real answers we search for about and within ourselves. And in that, we can make informed, intellectual choices that truly suit our life goals and dreams. Mine ended up coming true for me but on an altered and crippled path. Not how I would have chosen to accomplish them in a perfect world. Truly, I wouldn't wish to experience any of that pain again however, it brought me to this amazingly beautiful place in my life. And for that, I am grateful. Very grateful.

Summer Vacation or Staycation?

They say that all a child wants is for you to be fully present and without saying, plenty of love and positive validation. My daughter gets all of this, in copious quantities, when we are together. It is hard to be away from the infectious smile and heart full of love she so willingly shares. Someone told me once that spending that quality time with your child is like putting money in the bank. You put that "love" in the bank and when something goes poorly in your relationship (i.e. you argue and say something hurtful) your child makes a "withdrawl" from the hopefully overflowing "love" account. The withdrawl is ALWAYS much more than the deposit ever was. So you have to bank lots and lots of "love" points.

Here I sit worrying about hurting my child by not being able to afford to take her away from Idaho for a short summer get-away. She always asks why we never go "far away" or see the glorious things she sees in magazines. The never is not necessarily so; we did venture to Anaheim, California for her cheerleading competition. That was a big road trip. I was hoping we could visit friends in San Francisco but it just feels so out of our reach. We only have August left to gather funds and life is difficult in the financial department. (You're thinking, tell me something new lady!)

There are a few items of clothing to buy and after school classes to save for. We also have to start saving for a computer for her. So it is really hard to justify a trip given the circumstances. It feels hard and rather confining to feel like you cannot do something you feel you deserve. We could go camping but she really wants to go to the BIG city... I so desperately want to take her. I used to be able to do so many things before we moved to the United States and I work harder than I ever have now. Somehow, I have twisted it all in my mind to feel like despite all of my efforts I am being punished. That is what the economy has done to middle income earners. We are unable to do the small extra things that fill our hearts up and make the journey through all of this difficulty a lot easier to handle.

I know that trips away are never a great investment except that they create the beautiful memories we can hold when our relationships move through the years. The relational part of that feels very important right now. Her life is passing by me too quickly for my liking and I don't want to have any regrets. I want to share love and laughter now while I can. Tomorrow may bring even more difficulty.
So now what do I do? I feel as though I am caught between my love as a parent and my responsibility as a parent. I can only imagine many of you all feel the same issues occurring your own lives. I could use some really good advice here... I am sure I know the answer but I am certainly struggling!

The One Minute Blog

This is my first attempt at a one-minute blog. I am going to time it down to the second and see what flows. Hmmm...
Q. Why do celebrity deaths affect us so deeply?
A. We all believe we have intimate relationships with famous figures. They permeate our lives; our homes, our music, our televisions. We may hear or see them everyday, not unlike our loved ones and friends. I think this leads to a false sense of belief that we are connected on a very personal level.
OK - that was one minute.
Not such a great answer for one minute. How can you express yourself in such a short time?
More on this - we certainly have lost a few iconic celebrity figures in the last few weeks. Walter Cronkite was very much the respected news reporter of his time. He will remain on a pedestal for those of my parent's generation. I am part of the cloning of news programs; the cable TV generation. Every channel has some form of the news broadcast on. Some slant right and some slant left. But none holds the unbiased integrity that Mr. Cronkite had when he was the lead anchor of the evening news. He had the power to sway public thought and opinion. I certainly miss that from what is available now. There is little or no time to analyze any news so one never knows if it is sane or sensational.
Walter Cronkite became part of our home; my parents believed his stories and the emotion used to convey the events. He became a fixture at our dining table so his passing is like the loss of a family member to them. Not totally devastating from a personal standpoint, but certainly heartfelt with great sadness.
There is also an immortality that comes from being viewed through a thin pane of glass. It's as if one was real and then not real. Alive but not so totally. As though famous people live forever. So their loss makes us look at our own mortality more closely. If they are immortal, then how could they die? It brings celebrity back to a human level. We remember we are all the same; that they are not unlike us. So we are drawn in closer.
I would never want to be famous. Not me. I prefer my so called normal, low key life where few know me or care about my daily wanderings. Fame is so pervasive and destructive. And it seems to create a pridefulness that feels unGodly. If we could only be content to simply "be" - wouldn't it feel like a better world? I wonder.

Defining Moment of Humanity...

Have you ever felt you’ve been touched by God in His physical presence on earth?  I looked into the eyes of a homeless man and truly, I felt as though it was like meeting Jesus on earth.  It was as though time stood still in the frame of my vision, yet all around me, life’s movement continued. 

It was late in the afternoon on a breezy SF day.  As I waited and turned, looking for a glimpse of Gail’s car coming east on O’Farrell, there were people bustling about their business.  No sign of the Prius.  I spun west, and as I turned back to the east, a black man stopped in front of me; he was frozen at my eye level holding out two copies of the local street newspaper.  You know, the one that sells for a dollar that homeless people buy and sell to have enough money to get through their day.  I thought quickly and was ready to say no and then I felt something extraordinary.  Call it a flash of intuition.  I said to the man, “maybe I have enough change – can you give me a minute to take a look?”  He then saw I was struggling with a purse too full or too large.  He responded, “Here sweetheart, you can just have a copy.”  I replied, “No… – I want to find my change. I want to pay for it!” Indeed, I found my change purse – gave him a dollar and then looked into it and thought, why not give it all?  He said thank you very kindly.  He then said, “Where are you from?” I told him Canada.  It just seemed easier to say. And then as I was dumping out the rest of my change I looked up into his eyes.  He was well dressed – very clean and neat and was pulling a spotless green rolling suitcase behind him.  By the time of day, I sensed he was on his way to get a meal.  He said to me, “Ma’am, did you know you are a gift to my day? I feel like you are a special child of Jesus. I hope you see that in yourself.”  His words paralyzed me for a moment – and then my eyes glazed over.  I replied, “Please don’t call me ma’am.  I am just me.” To that he responded, “May I give you a hug?” 

I told him I would be honored if he gave me a hug.  As we embraced, I noticed he was absent of the aroma of alcohol and tobacco.  He was clean and aside from a loss of employment or perhaps a mental illness, he was clear in thought and body.

As I released from his grasp, I looked into his eyes and said, “We are no different you and I.  We are just at different places in our lives.  You are very kind and I wish I could do more but I haven’t any more money.” (Which I didn’t in fact – it was not a lie.)

He said, “God bless you – you are very special.  You are.” And I said, “As are you.  Have a good day,” and bid him goodbye.  He slowly turned and walked down the sidewalk. 

It took about 5 minutes for that exchange to sink in.  And then I felt so much sadness.  Pain for his loneliness and my connection to the feelings of being abandoned and living on the street.  Sorrow for never appreciating my own gifts; knowing they are there but never celebrating them.  Believing that I had just been touched by the Holy Spirit; for a moment I felt the presence of Jesus. There was no fear, no shame.  Just love and mutual respect.  If I could have bottled that feeling of humanity, I would carry it forever.

It was the gift of my trip to San Francisco.  A blessing.

The Disintegration of the Truth in Media.

After watching the video editorial of Ed Kelley regarding the Raye Dawn Smith Case - I was so angered and incensed that I was moved to write a letter to him and send it via FEDEX.  He will receive it tomorrow.  I am sick of the media speaking on my behalf when they have not researched or presented the facts.  These powerful money making machines steamroll over people's lives with little regard for the truth.  Every media outlet in that area will receive a copy challenging them to do the same.

I beg you all to take action against lies presented by the media. This lack of humanity is unconscionable.

The following is my letter.  Thank you and gratitude to William Newmiller and Mary Thompson for fact check and editing.

The Oklahoman

9000 North Broadway,

Oklahoma City, OK

73114

Attention: Mr. Ed Kelley

Editor

Dear Mr. Kelley,

Re: Video Editorial - June 29th, 2009

Kelsey Smith-Briggs

As editor of your newspaper the Oklahoman, "The State's Most Trusted News", you of all people should be one that holds truth and full disclosure in print media to the highest regard.

I stumbled upon your video editorial and couldn't believe what I heard.  Have you read all about this case in complete detail?  Are you impartial?  Although I'm sure you speak from your heart, what you say is not fact-based.

To understand this complex case we need to study the complex personalities that have propelled it to prominence. There's Lance Briggs who continues to profit from the death of his child.  You don't say what he'll do with the settlement money.  Will he be donating this money to charity?  Will he donate it to Kelsey's Purpose?  You know Kelsey's Purpose is not a non-profit or charity and basically lines the pockets of Kathie Briggs and her son.  Or will he, like his own mother, use this heartbreaking story of a beautiful little girl to gain sympathy and further financial rewards?

I am especially disturbed by what you call a "pathetic twist".  You say, "...that's some gall, shown by the mother Raye Dawn Smith, since she's in prison on a 27 year sentence related to Kelsey's death.  As one of my colleagues pointed out, maybe mama will be spending her share of the loot in the prison commissary." Have you interviewed Raye Dawn Smith and asked her why she has filed a suit for half of the award?  Have you considered at any point the credible claims of innocence that have been advanced on her behalf?  Have you researched the flawed nature of her original trial?  Did it occur to you that perhaps she feels wronged by the criminal justice system and the media (go figure)?  Perhaps she may be angry that these funds, rather than being donated to an authentic children's charity, would be spent on meaningless extravagances at the expense of her daughter's life?  As I understand it, Lance Briggs received both Kelsey's life insurance policies and did not pay a penny toward her funeral.

You say you have "thought for a long time...". Well, if you were interested in truth, you would research all available information on this subject before passing judgment. I have nothing to do with either party in this case so I feel I CAN be impartial. After reading every possible piece of information, I believe your limited understanding of the facts, especially to this date, illustrates exactly how Raye Dawn Smith was convicted in the first place. Yes, I hold you to a higher standard as an editor of this newspaper to provide your readers with thorough research. Had I believed you adequately researched the facts, then I'd know you'd agree Raye Dawn Smith has a solid case for a wrongful conviction. To deny the very real possibility of her innocence is to re-victimize her and that is shameful.

Kelsey was murdered in the presence of Mike Porter, and in the absence of Raye Dawn Smith, whom Mike Porter had sent to retrieve his children while Kelsey stayed with him. Kelsey was sexually assaulted in the presence of Mike Porter alone.

Since Raye Dawn Smith's conviction, several e-mails have emerged, e-mails that show a conspiracy between the grandmother of Kelsey - Kathie Briggs and her daughters - with Mike Porter. Hmmm - something funny going on?  I wonder. How could you communicate with the murderer of your granddaughter?  How valid can a jury decision be when jurors slept through portions of her trial? One juror was actually a member of Kelsey's Purpose, the website established by Kathie Briggs: a simply unacceptable conflict of interest for a juror to have. The cozy relationship between Mike Porter and Kathy Briggs has to raise all kinds of red flags for anyone who looks at this case thoughtfully and objectively. Just a few things to mull around. I just want you to examine these possibilities.

I am an abused child myself. I have great empathy for the real victim in the case, Kelsey Smith-Briggs. No child should ever be abused.  Seems to me, however, that the media refuses to present the real story behind all of this.  I certainly haven't read the truthful facts in your paper and I challenge you to check your facts and get them straight. I think that if you, Mr. Kelley, would research this case more thoroughly, your words will be very different indeed. And I challenge you to get to the bottom of this for the victim, Kelsey Smith-Briggs, and report the FACTS.  Maybe then we'll get the TRUTH.

Wendy Norbom

Ketchum, Idaho