Tag Archives: mental-health

THE FOUR AGREEMENTS – A TOLTEC WISDOM BOOK

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I loved this book when it was first given to me shortly after I did the Hoffman Process.  I then bought and gave it to everyone I knew.  I have read it many times and now even have it from audible.com.  Just as with any other book, listening to it is a whole other experience.  Since I love being read to, it’s perfect!

The Four Agreements are:

“BE IMPECCABLE WITH YOUR WORD  Speak with integrity.  Say only what you mean.  Avoid using the word to speak against yourself or to gossip about others.  Use the power of your word in the direction of truth and love.

DON’T TAKE ANYTHING PERSONALLY  Nothing others do is because of you.  What others say and do is a projection of their own reality, their own dream.  When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won’t be the victim of needless suffering.

DON’T MAKE ASSUMPTIONS  Find the courage to ask questions and to express what you really want.  Communicate with others  as clearly as you can to avoid misunderstandings, sadness and drama.  With just this one agreement, you can completely transform your life.

ALWAYS DO YOUR BEST  Your best is going to change from moment to moment; it will be different when you are healthy as opposed to sick.  Under any circumstance, simply do your best, and you will avoid self-judgement, self-abuse and regret.”

Simple enough, yes?  Well, maybe simple, but not necessarily easy to do.  Any yet I know that when I actually practice these 4 agreements, I am much happier.  The book, though relatively short, is quite powerful; and I’ve also found, the more I read it, the more likely I am to remember the agreements and to live by them.

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The author, Don Miguel Ruiz, has also written several other books, which are also good: “The Fifth Agreement,” “The Mastery of Love” and “The Voice of Knowledge,” among others.  All are just as insightful and inspiring, though my favorite remains “The Four Agreements.”

IT’S NOT A STRAIGHT LINE

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As much as I’d like it to be, as much as I’ve tried to make it be, it simply is not a straight line.    In my mind it goes something like this — you get attacked, you do whatever it takes to make sure your attacker is prosecuted and sent to prison, you go to therapy, and you are healed.  But what happens when you get attacked, you do everything you can to make sure your attacker is prosecuted and sent to prison, you go to therapy, and you aren’t quite healed?  If you are me, apparently, you beat yourself up for not being where you feel like you should (there I go, shoulding myself) be at this point.  I have been accused in the past of being too hard on myself, for holding myself to some impossible standard or ideal that pretty much no one could ever attain, and when I, of course, fail to achieve it, I then beat myself up.  This is a vicious cycle and it needs to stop.  The question is how to do I do this, how do I get off this merry-go-round?

I am not sure why I have such a hard time acknowledging and being proud of myself for how incredibly far I have already come.  I can easily say that I understand this to be true on some level, but I’m not sure I truly understand that to be the case.  I think I want it to be true, because otherwise all the work I’ve done, and it is considerable, would seem to be for nothing, and that might just put me over the edge.  Some days I do see the progress I’ve made and I feel good about it.  Other days, though, the most innocuous comment sends me off the deep end.  And, worst of all, sometimes it is me who makes that comment.  Like today.

I was accused (and rightly so) of being mean to myself.  At first I did not see it this way.  I was being sarcastic about what I was saying about myself.  I used to be a very sarcastic person (pre-Hoffman), but these days I rarely use sarcasm because I now understand that sarcasm is just thinly veiled anger.  And I make an effort to be kind, not condemning to others.  I somehow forget to include myself in that effort.  (How’s that for irony?)  Then it was pointed out to me that perhaps it is myself that I am angry at, for not being what I call ‘done with my healing.’  This, of course, starts me on the hamster wheel yet again.

All of this happened today in my energy healing session with Marsha Bliss.  I am still in physical pain, and though not a lot, it is still enough to make me want to do something to get rid of it.  While Marsha was working on me and we were talking about my post a week ago about my ‘new normal’, as in, is the way my life is now my new normal?  Marsha made up an example of someone who has lost a limb, and after a period of time, is now skiing.  This person has not let the lack of a leg stop them from moving forward.  This has become the new normal for them.  Something about that conversation triggered an incredible sadness in me and the tears to go with it.  Here’s the thing – when we see someone, (from the outside, because, really, unless you’ve been there, you can NEVER know what goes on behind the scenes, what goes on inside of them,) who has triumphed after a tragedy and we think, wow, this person is happy and has moved on and bla, bla, bla.  That’s just it, we simply do not know what happens when they go home at night, if they are crying themselves to sleep or are one step away from suicide or really are doing okay, in spite of it all.  We just don’t know.

 

I wrote the above paragraphs last night, and while I have no idea if they somehow influenced my dreams, I did have really weird dreams and woke up this morning feeling rather blue.  Then when I was going through my emails, I came upon the following quote, which gives me enormous hope:

“Energy and persistence conquer all things.”   ~Benjamin Franklin

I’ve been nothing if not persistent in my desire and actions to move through this traumatic event.  And something else Marsha said yesterday has been running around in my head, and that is that we are never done with whatever it is we are doing in our lives.  If we’re done, we’re dead.  I get this, I really do.  I understand that once we get through, put behind us or in some other way move on from a situation, traumatic or otherwise, something else is bound to come up.  We’ve all heard the adage that God, Life, the Universe (whatever word you want to use) never gives us more than we can handle.   I believe this.  I even have it posted above my desk (don’t always remember to look up to read it, but it’s there.)  And as much as I subscribe to this belief, I always just as often forget about it.  I think what all this means to me is I just have a lot more stuff to deal with, and not all of it, maybe even none of it, has anything directly to do with my attack.  I definitely attribute, if not all, most of what I am dealing with these days to that one event, and that would be because so much of it seems to stem from it.  Physically, I have not been the same since, so it makes sense that it would be the reason.  And, really, it probably is.  At the same time, what this also means is there is still unresolved issues from my past that are arising now because I am finally at a place in my evolution that I am able to deal with them.  That is both comforting and annoying.   So, to paraphrase F. Scott Fitzgerald from “The Great Gatsby,” I beat on, boat against the current, born back ceaselessly in the past.

 

 

SHIFT HAPPENS

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Just the title alone is enough to land this book on my favorites list!  And by the way, the order in which I ‘review’ and/or list these books is not an indication of anything other than it is a book that has meant something to me and my journey towards healing.  This book was published in 2000, but I didn’t become aware of it until about 2 years ago.  I have listened to it several times and read the actual book, too, a couple of times.  Clearly, it speaks to me.  And each time I’ve listened to or read it, I’ve gotten something different, whatever it was I needed at that particular moment.

The introduction of the book:

“Two caterpillars were crawling along a tree branch one day when a butterfly flew overhead.  One caterpillar said to the other, ‘You will never get me up in one of those things.’  Shift Happens! is about personal alchemy and inner transformation.  Some people “go” through life; and other people “grow” through life.  Shift Happens! celebrates your unlimited potential to grow, blossom and evolve–in spite of everything.  It is a book of hope.  The term personal alchemy describes the ability to take a piece of dirt, roll it around a few times and fashion it into a pearl.  This is what an oyster does.  Personal alchemy is what your grandmother called turning lemons into lemonade.  It is what old wizards describe as turning straw into gold.  Shift Happens! is about staying open all hours for miracles.  Success, love and happiness are only ever one thought away at most.  One new perception, one fresh thought, one act of surrender, one change of heart, one leap of faith can change your life forever.”

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From the back cover of the book:  “Robert Holden, Ph.D., shares a powerful mix of principles and exercises–from his private coaching practice–that can create real breakthroughs in your life.  Writing in a short essay-style, Robert shows you how to tap into the inner gold of your true nature, unblock yourself, release fears, drop the struggle, transform relationships and live a happier life.”

If you go to his web sites, either robertholden.org or behappy.net you will find that he has other more recent books, including one called Holy Shift!  (I just love the titles he chooses!)

WE NEED TO STOP ‘SHOULDING’ OURSELVES

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I almost titles this “WE SHOULD STOP SHOULDING OURSELVES,” but irony aside, it seems to be something we all do.  I should do this; I should do that.  I should be thinner or prettier or richer.  I should be further along in my career; I should workout more or meditate or journal.  I should go to college or I should drop out.  I should work fewer hours or I should work more.  I should change jobs or I should just plain quit my job and become a lady/gentleman of leisure.  Should, should, should!  With all this shoulding going on, it’s no wonder we feel such discontent, like we aren’t living up to our potential.

The dictionary on my iMac defines SHOULD as:

1 used to indicate obligation, duty or correctness, typically when criticizing someone’s actions: he should have been careful | I think we should trust our people more | you shouldn’t have gone.   2 used to indicate what is probable:  $348 million should be enough to buy him out | the bus should arrive in a few minutes.  3 formal expressing the conditional mood.  –(in the first person) indicating the consequence of an imagined event:  if I were to obey my first impulse, I should spend my days writing letters.  –referring to a possible event or situation: if you should change your mind, I’ll be at the hotel | should anyone arrive late, admission is likely to be refused.  4 used in a clause with “that” after a main clause describing feelings: it is astonishing that we should find violence here.  5 used in a clause with “that” expressing purpose: in order that training should be effective it must be planned systematically.  6 (in the first person) expressing a polite request or acceptance: we should be grateful for your advice.  7 (in the first person) expressing a conjecture of hope: he’ll have a sore head, I should imagine | “It won’t happen again.” “I should hope not.”  8 used to emphasize to a listener how striking an event is or was: you should have seen Marge’s face.  

According to Dictionary.com: should is the simple past tense of SHALL.  And SHALL is defined as 1 plan to, intend to, or expect to: I shall go later.  2 will have to, is determined  to, or definitely will: You shall do it.  He shall do it.  3 (in laws, directives, etc.) must; is or are obliged to: The meeting of the council shall be public.  4 (used interrogatively in questions, often in invitations): Shall we go?

In the end, though, what it comes down to is how we talk to ourselves.  Reading through the definitions, it seems clear to me that SHALL is a much kinder, gentler way of expressing a desire or wish, especially if it is to ourselves.   No one likes to be told what to do, so why do we think it’s okay to should ourselves?  If someone is telling you that you should do this or that or you should go here or there, are you more likely to disregard, ignore or reject what they are saying because of how they are saying it?  My guess is a big fat YES.  It’s the same when we talk to ourselves, even if we aren’t aware of it.  What we say and how we say it to ourselves is just as important, if not even more so, than how we speak to others.  And while it is always a good idea to be kind to everyone, being kind to ourselves is crucial.

I think that for a long time self-love or self-care was seen as selfish.  This is the exact opposite of what is actually true.  If we don’t love, take care of and approve wholeheartedly of ourselves, we cannot do it for others, not really.  I am the most important person in my life, just as you are the most important person in your life.  It cannot be any other way.  This is true whether you are single or married, have children or not.  If you are not happy in and with yourself, you will have nothing to give another.  This is not selfish.  I’m sure you’ve heard the expression about not being able to give what you don’t have.  This is the same idea.  It is all well and good to want to accomplish your intentions, dreams and goals, so why not do it in a kinder way?  Kinder to yourself.  Speak to yourself the way you would to a child.  You (hopefully) would never yell at or berate a baby because of what he or she was unable to do, so why would you treat yourself any differently?

To me, shoulding ourselves is a good place to start, and by that I mean,  STOP SHOULDING YOURSELF!  You are where you are because of the choices and decisions you made yesterday.  If you don’t like where you are, make different choices.  It’s all up to you.  When you use the word should, as the definition says, it typically is a criticism of what you did or didn’t do.  Who likes to be criticized?  As Maya Angelou said, “Do the best you can until you know better.  Then when you know better, do better.”  We now know better.  We know how powerful words are and the way in which they are said can either help or hurt.  Make sure the words you say, especially to yourself, are loving and kind.

 

A CREATIVE LIFE

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When I was 5 or 6 years old,  I wanted doll clothes for my Barbie dolls, but my mother wouldn’t buy them for me.  She said,”They are too expensive, and they are not made very well.”  So if I didn’t want naked dolls, I had to learn how to sew.  If you ask her, she’ll tell you that she taught me to sew.   This isn’t true, although I am certain she helped me to the best of her ability.   My grandmother, her mother, was the one who really taught me.  Since my entire reason for learning how to sew was to make doll clothes, this was pretty much all I made for the first couple of years.  By hand.  I cannot remember exactly when I graduated to a sewing machine, but I do remember the first dress I made for myself when I was 8 years old.  It had 3 arm holes (on purpose) and was a wrap-around dress.  It had only the side and shoulder seams, and the whole dress was banded on the raw edges, so really easy.  I chose a yellow (we are talking school bus yellow) kettle cloth, which I do not even think is made anymore, and orange binding.  Yikes!  What I wouldn’t give to still have that dress, though.   As far as I know, there isn’t even a picture of it.  Bummer!  By nine, I could install a zipper, and I do have a picture of that dress:

old family pictures

I continued sewing, mainly because my mother would buy me fabric whenever I wanted it.  Unlike today, fabric used to be inexpensive, and it was far cheaper to sew your own clothes.  I never had to worry about anyone wearing the same thing as I had on.  I never took Home Economics because by that time I was too far advanced.  The truth is, I could have taught the class.  I did make money sewing while in high school.  I was on the swim team and every Friday before a meet, we had outfits that we had to wear.  The skirts were some kind of purple cotton, and  I ended up making the skirts for all the girls on the team.  Apparently, no one’s mother sewed.  I probably got $10 a skirt.  I also made and sold Holly Hobbie dolls for $15.  Those things were a lot of work, but, I guess for the time, that was pretty good.  Also, these were not dolls to be played with; they were to be sat on a shelf and admired.  If someone wanted to buy one for their daughter to actually play with, I wouldn’t sell it to them.

I took my sewing machine to college with me and used to get up super early to sew before my first class.   I always had new clothes, and would make my outfits for special occasions, usually the night before.  I was always aware of just how long something would take for me to make and I would always wait until the very last-minute to do it.  Some things never change!

I always sewed.  Except, that is, when I went off to Europe to model.  I could not take my sewing machine with me then.  Whenever I was back in the States for even a week, I would drag out the machine and whip up something to take back with me.  When I moved back to the States for good in September of 1990, I continued to model, but started sewing on the side.  I made vests, teddy bears, all kinds of things.  I retired from modeling sometime in 1992 or 1993, and then realized I had to get a ‘regular’ job.  I got one at Loomcraft (a Calico Corners-type store) in the Wrigleyville neighborhood of Chicago.  The store did custom labor for the home, and though I had never done much of that kind of sewing, other than simple curtains or pillows, I decided that was what I would do.  I worked at Loomcraft for 2 years, until I had enough business to quit and sew full-time.  I am proud to say that I never once poached a customer from the store.  It would have been easy to do that, but it was against the rules.  I built my business back then the same way I do today – word of mouth.  And as anyone who is self-employed knows, you work many more hours a week than 40, but at least you are working for yourself.

Today I am happy that my mother forced me to learn to sew.  It has allowed me to have my own business for the last 23 years.  I have the best clients and each one of them comes to me just as my very first one did.  My business has gone through several name changes through the years until several years ago when I changed it to A Little of This That and the Other.  Even though I only make things for the home, I don’t want to limit myself.  You never know when I might decide it’s time to start a line of t-shirts or bathing suits or yoga clothes.  This way, I’m covered.

I have always lived a creative life and cannot imagine living any other way.  Creating beautiful things for people’s homes gives me great joy.  I get to go into all kinds of houses that I would normally never go into.  I’ve been in 14 different magazines over the years, although this has never gotten me work.  Still, I love to see my work in a magazine.  As of right now, I am awaiting a home in Carlsbad, CA that was shot for Coastal Living and another home on Saint Simons Island, GA in Country Living.  I never know until it comes out exactly which of things I did will end up in the magazine, which is really hard.  But when it finally does come out, I am excited and happy to see my work in print.

My other creative outlet is writing and this web site.  It is a completely different kind of creativity and something I have done for most of my life, as well.  Telling my story, at times, is hard.  I think it is important, if for no other reason than to help me make sense of my life.  And in the process, if I help others, then so much the better.  It’s all a part of the healing process.

YES, I SURVIVED, AND NOW I’M READY TO THRIVE!!!

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Three years ago today my life change in ways I could never have imagined.  Two years ago today I started this website to tell my story.  From the very beginning of this incredible journey, I was always very clear on what had to happen in order for me to move forward, to be able to truly put this behind me and get on with my life.  It has taken far longer than anyone ever thought it would.  I like to think I’m completely finished with my healing process, and then BAM, something happens that shows me I’m not quite there yet.  Apparently there isn’t a formula that I can plug all my info into and get a read out that tells me exactly when I’ll be all better.  Wouldn’t that be nice?  Perhaps it is something I will be dealing with, at least to a degree, and when I least expect it, for the rest of my life.  As much as I’d like it to be something that I can simply forget, that doesn’t seem to be the way these things work.

In the interest of honoring myself and my body, on this day of all days, I chose to hike up Cowles Mountain this morning.  I have only done it one other time, 3 1/2 years ago, and today seemed like the day it was important for me to do it again.  At 1593′, it is the highest point in San Diego.  The hike is only 1.5 miles, with an elevation change of 950′.  I got to the top in about 25 minutes.  The picture below is the view part way up.

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This is the view from the top looking west.

IMG_3452 And this is the view to the east.

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It was a beautiful morning, though I wish I had started just a bit earlier.  There were tons of  people going up and down.  I saw several that did the climb more than once.  I thought about it, but decided there was no need in overdoing it, as I am ever so fond of doing.  Tonight I will go to a restorative yoga class at Mosaic in Golden Hill.  Tomorrow I will do my beloved beach yoga with Danell Dwaileebe.  And then I have another appointment with Marsha Bliss, an extraordinarily gifted energy healer.  This is what I posted on Yelp about my session with her last week:  “I have been dealing with the after-effects of a sexual assault for the last 3 years, and though I am almost completely through it, there is still some residual ‘stuff’ hanging on. Since I have been to Marsha a couple of times in the past, knew that she would be able to help me again. My appointment yesterday exceeded even my wildest expectations! I do not understand HOW it works, but trust me when I tell you that it DOES work! By the time she was finished with me, I was literally floating. The only ‘bad’ thing was I had to get in the car and drive home. The feeling stayed with me the rest of the day, and I am still feeling it this morning. Whatever your issue is, I highly recommend that you go and see Marsha Bliss of Bliss Connections.”

(You better believe I am looking forward to my appointment tomorrow!)

This is what I wrote in my journal this morning, part of which I shared on Facebook:

6:28a  After reading my email and posting on Facebook, I’m off to hike Cowles Mountain.  It is a tribute to myself and to all those who have suffered a sexual assault.  Today is a GREAT day!  It is a testament to those who have survived and those who are still struggling to heal.  Today is the third anniversary of my sexual assault.  I honor myself for surviving, and I honor all those who are still in the process of reclaiming their lives.  I am proof of what you can do if you don’t give up.  I celebrate the new me, who is stronger and more determined than ever to not let the worst few minutes of my life determine the rest of my life.  With enthusiasm I choose to move forward.  I choose love.  I am love.  I am loving.  I am lovable. I matter.  My attacker matters.  (Hard words to write, but nonetheless true.)  Without him I would not be where I am right now.  And where I am is in a very good place.  As the title of this post says…I did survive, and I am now ready to thrive!

Going all the way back to one of my very first posts two years ago, I put this quote:

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I have been changed.  I am anything but reduced by what happened to me, though.  I am so much more than I was, and as I already said, without this traumatic event, without a violent sexual assault, I simply would not be who I am today.  All the way up the mountain this morning I repeated STRONG, HEALTHY, HEALED and on the way down I said, I now release all my trauma, I now accept all my good.  It does feel like something has shifted in me.  I smiled the whole way home.  It feels like whatever might still be hanging on will be energetically erased by Marsha tomorrow.  Best of all, I can honestly say that I forgive DCD for what he did to me.  And even more importantly, I FORGIVE MYSELF!!!

 

RUNNING AWAY FROM HOME – 1976

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For my 16th birthday, I thought I was going to see The Eagles and Fleetwood Mac perform; instead, I got a trip to a diving camp at De Anza College in Cupertino, CA.  What you have to understand is from as far back as I can remember, I always told my mother I was moving to California.  I just knew I was meant to be here.  I was to be gone for 2 or three weeks (can’t remember now) and would stay with my grandmother in Palo Alto on the weekends and my aunt and uncle in Sunnyvale during the week, so my aunt could take me to diving practice.  I flew into San Jose in the evening, with temperatures in the 80s.  That didn’t bother me in the least, as I lived in Atlanta and we had no air conditioner in the house.  No one did back then.  This was, though, a heat wave and when the temperatures went back to normal, I about froze to death.  I could not wear shorts past 3p.  Seriously!  Anyway, in between my all day diving practice during the week, I still managed to meet a boy, and for the life of me, I cannot remember his name anymore.  He was the son of a friend of my aunt and uncle.  Well, I thought I was in serious love and, unbelievably, he even asked me to marry him!  At 16!  Of course I said yes!  I was 16 and when a boy asks you to marry him at 16, what else would you say?  The fact that we lived clear across the country from each other didn’t seem to be a problem for either of us.  Nor that we were still in high school!  What can I say?  Needless to say, when my time in California was over, I went back to Georgia.  We wrote letters full of, I’m sure, declarations of undying love.

I am sure I’ve mentioned that I grew up with a bunch of monkeys, make that brothers, and to say that we mostly did not get along would be an understatement.  (I so wanted to be an only child.)  My brothers were mean and teased me non-stop.  My mother was not a lot of help.  She would simply say,’ ignore them, they’ll go away.’  Ah, no, not only did they not go away, they continued to make me miserable.  I very much loved my time in California when I was free of them.  So that fall, my junior year of high school, which by the way, I also hated, but that’s another story, I had had enough of them and their juvenile ways.  I decided I needed to get back to where I was the happiest I had ever been, which was California.  I came up with a plan to make that happen.  The only problem was airplane tickets were expensive, and I had no money to speak of.  It wasn’t ideal, but I settled on taking the bus, a 4 day trip.    The ticket, if I remember correctly, was only about $50 compared with about $200 for a one-way flight.  I did not tell anyone, least of all my best friend, Cathy.  It seemed smarter that the less people who knew, the greater my chance of successfully making it across the country would be.

The morning of my departure I took the bus to school as normal, but I packed a bag and hid it in the bushes outside the school.  Part of my plan meant taking MARTA, the public bus system in Atlanta, which I had never done before.  There was a stop across from my high school, and after home room, so that I would not be counted as absent, I walked out the front door, retrieved my suitcase/bag, and crossed the street to the bus stop and boarded the MARTA bus going downtown Atlanta where the Greyhound Bus Terminal was.  I somehow managed to get to the station and purchase my one-way, ’cause I sure wasn’t planning on coming back, ticket and got on the west-bound bus.  I was a little scared, but mostly I was excited to be going back to California.  What I did not understand about buses was they do not take the shortest route to wherever it is they are going.  The bus left around 10a, and we went through Alabama and Mississippi to get to Memphis, Tennessee.  I remember wanting to go and ask the driver if he knew where he was going, but I didn’t want to bring any unnecessary attention to myself.  We finally pulled into the station in Memphis around 6p.  I had a bad feeling that I wasn’t going to make it.  I thought if I could get through Memphis without getting caught, I’d probably make it all the way to San Jose.  No such luck.

As soon as I stepped off the bus the authorities were waiting for me.  They asked if my name was Tamerie Shriver.  I refused to answer and went into the ladies room.  I stayed in there until one of the (men) agents stuck his head and told me I couldn’t stay in there forever.  I shot back, ‘Why not?’  I eventually left the bathroom and they took me to the juvenile detention facility.  They had called my mother as soon as I got off the bus, so she was on her way to get me.  She flew in, and because it was late by that time, we stayed overnight in a Holiday Inn by the airport.  I was fingerprinted and photographed as a runaway, even though I was 16.  Turns out in Georgia and Tennessee you had to be 17 to not be considered a juvenile.  Details, details.

I cried and cried. I cried that entire night.  I cried for the entire flight back to Atlanta.  I was so sad.  Sad to not be going to California, sad to have to go back to my house full of brothers I hated, back to a school I couldn’t stand, back to the life I wanted desperately not to be in.  As it turned out, I never did get in trouble for running away, with my mother or with the authorities.  In order to not have a juvenile record, though, we had to attend family therapy for 12 weeks.   My actions finally got through to my mother, and she agreed to make changes at home so it was more bearable for me.  My brothers were basically forbidden to even talk to me, let alone anything else.  I was sad about my aborted trip for a long time.  And I never stopped wanting to move to California.

I did leave a note that my mother was supposed to get that night when she got home from work.  In it I used the words to Cat Steven’s song Father and Son (I substituted Mother and Daughter, I also did not include all the lyrics, just those that made sense for what I was telling her) to help me express what I had not been able to make her understand:

 

“Father
It’s not time to make a change,
Just relax, take it easy.
You’re still young, that’s your fault,
There’s so much you have to know.

Son
How can I try to explain, when I do he turns away again.
It’s always been the same, same old story.
From the moment I could talk I was ordered to listen.
Now there’s a way and I know that I have to go away.
I know I have to go.

Father
It’s not time to make a change,
Just sit down, take it slowly.
You’re still young, that’s your fault,
There’s so much you have to go through.
Son

All the times that I cried, keeping all the things I knew inside,

It’s hard, but it’s harder to ignore it.

If they were right, I’d agree, but it’s them you know not me.

Now there’s a way and I know that I have to go away.
I know I have to go.”

 

Let’s just say, it made sense to me at the time, and bottom-line, it did get my point across and everything seem to change after that.

 

 

UPLIFTING THE WORLD

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Today’s post is not written by me, but by Jane Beach.  She is a recently retired minister of Conscious Living Center in Mt. View, California.  She is the author of this month’s Daily Guides in Science of Mind Magazine.  Today’s reading…

 

“I UPLIFT THE WORLD

“A life lived of choice is a life of conscious action.”  ~Neale Donald Walsch

“In the independence of your own mentality, believe and feel that you are wonderful.  This is not conceit, it is truth.”  ~The Science of Mind, page 307

 

Every single time I make the decision to treat myself gently, I send peace to the world.  Every time I forgive myself, the world feels the effects of my forgiveness.  My self-respect and self-forgiveness return me to the beauty of who I truly am, which stirs the energy of love in me and sends it out into the world.  There’s a positive power in focusing on possibility, looking for the good in everything, finding something to be grateful for, trusting that life is on my side, sensing that I’m okay and letting others know that they’re okay, too. My optimism adds to the world’s healing.

Life reminds me of what’s possible.  If trees know when to let go of dying leaves so that new buds can form, I can let go of negativity to make room for peace and joy.  If birds can fly hundreds of miles to fulfill their life’s purpose, I can take the next step to live my dreams.  If sidewalks develop cracks so that a tiny seed can take hold in the earth below, I can adjust to that which is trying to grow within me.  My willingness to change helps uplift the world.

We all stretch and grow in our own way and time, gaining confidence, breaking through the old and embracing the new.  Every single time we say “Yes!” to our life, we bless a world that embraces us all.

 

AFFIRMATION: Every time I treat myself gently, I uplift the world.  In each instance that I focus on possibility, I become a power for healing.  Today, I do my part to bless a world that embraces us all.”

FINALLY, THE LAST PIECE FALLS INTO PLACE

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I have been trying, for over 2 years, since the D.A. showed it to me at one of the court dates, before we ever got to the sentencing, to get a copy of the letter that DCD wrote to me, at the urging of the police, after he was in custody.  When I first read it, I did not believe a word of what he had written.  When I read again last week, I still do not believe a word he wrote.  And I’ll get to that in a moment.  Getting a copy of it proved to be far worse than pulling teeth.  At least with that, you go to the dentist, tell him to pull your tooth and he does it.  At the time, March or April or May of 2012 (who can remember?) I was told that I could not have a copy because it was not mine to have.  Well, that wasn’t exactly correct, but, then again, so much of what the D.A. told me wasn’t exactly correct.  So, I waited.

When I was told by the Probation Department that I was entitled to the file pertaining to DCD, I requested a copy.  I thought for sure the letter would be included.  Nope.  So, I waited some more.  After the sentencing hearing, I waited a few days before going to the Coronado Police Department to request a copy of the file.  That’s when I found out that he (his attorney) had filed an appeal, and because of that, the case was considered ongoing and could not be released.  Okay, eventually, his appeal was settled and I went again to request a copy of it.  Again, I was put off.  I was, however, told that technically the letter was mine as it had been written to me, and I wanted that letter.

More months went by, and I’d go again to the Police Station, and, again, no one could seem to make it happen.  There was always some excuse about why it could not be released to me.  I’d go away for a while, but I never gave up wanting it or biding my time until I’d try again.  Then a few weeks ago I thought it was time to make my seemingly pointless trip to the Police Department.  The day I went the Sergeant was out of the building because of an incident on the bridge, which is code for a jumper.  That was fine, I didn’t need to talk to her, I just wanted a copy of my letter.  I had been asking for a copy of the file, but the truth was I already had that.  I only lacked the letter.  So, I once again filled out a request for MY letter.  I left, expecting I’d hear back that afternoon or the next day.  Well, that didn’t happen.  It took about a week,and honestly, I had kind of forgotten about it.  Again.

I was uptown and my cell phone rang.  I did not recognize the number, but knew it was a Coronado number, so I answered it.  “This is the Coronado Police Department.  We have a copy of the letter you requested.  Do you want to pick it up?  Or do you want me to email it to you?”  I told her I’d pick it up on my way home, thank you very much!

It was in a sealed envelope.  I did not want to open it until I was at home, glasses on my face so I could actually see to read it.  When I finally did open and read it, luckily, I felt nothing.  In this case, nothing is good.  Then I read it again, and thought, he is such a liar.  I don’t believe a word he wrote.  This is what he wrote:

 

“I would like to tell you that I’m deeply sorry for the way I treated you.  I had no intention of assaulting you.  I knew you were terrified.  It also hurt me inside, I was doing something to you that I’ve never wanted to do to anybody.  After the incident I ran over to the police department because I knew what I did was wrong.  Please find it in your heart to forgive me.

Sincerely,

DCD”

 

Okay, let’s take this line by line — ‘I would like to tell you that I’m deeply sorry for the way that I treated you.’  Well, you may be sorry, but I’m guessing only because you got caught and you didn’t get to do what you actually intended to do, which was rape me.  And the ‘way you treated’ me was you slammed me to the pavement, ripped my clothes off and were preparing to beat the shit out of me when my guardian angel arrived.  ‘I had no intention of assaulting you.’  Ah, yeah, you did.  You were out trolling, and when you saw me and I fit the ‘type’ you were hoping to find, my fate was sealed.  You turned around and followed me, getting up your nerve to attack me, and when you decided the time was right, you ran at me as fast as you could, hitting me, taking me down, where you had every intention of raping me.  ‘It also hurt me inside…’  Oh, please!  You never wanted to do something like this to anyone?  Of course you did.  You planned it and I fit very nicely into your plan.  What you didn’t count on was me fighting back.  And you sure did not count on someone coming along and saving my life.  ‘After the incident I ran over to the police department…’  Another big, fat lie.  While it is true that the police picked you up in the 700 block of Orange Avenue and the Police Department happens to be in the 700 block of Orange Avenue, they picked you up 12 1/2 hours after you claim to have run over there.  You expect me to believe you sat there for 12 1/2 hours just waiting for them to notice you?  Hardly.  ‘…because I knew what I did was wrong.’  No shit!  Of course you knew what you did was wrong.  As for me finding it in my heart to forgive you, well, I am still working on that, though I have to say that I am pretty close.  This feels like the last piece of the entire puzzle and because it is now in place, I can finally put it all behind me.  Well, as far as I can while still talking and writing about it in the larger context of my life.

 

YOU JUST NEVER KNOW

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So much has been written about Robin Williams’ suicide this past Monday.  I have read most of it.  In the end, what I’ll say about it is this:  you will never know what someone else is going through.  Never.  It’s not possible, unless he or she decides to share it with us.  Just because someone is funny does not mean he or she is not depressed.  Just because someone has financial security does not mean that he or she is not depressed.  Just because we think someone ‘has it all’ does not mean there isn’t a battle going on inside.  You simply cannot tell by looking at someone, especially if that someone does not want you to know, what is happening inside.  I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again…as someone who has battled and lived with depression for most of my life, I hid it very well.  It is possible to go out and laugh and smile and act as though all is well, when inside you are slowly dying.  And it’s not a matter of being strong enough to fight the good fight.  You can fight and fight and fight, and at some point, you may get tired of fighting.  You just want the pain to stop.  It really is that simple.

Mental illness, suicide, sexual assault, rape… none of these are pleasant subjects; and yet, all of us are touched by them at some point in our lives, whether directly or indirectly, and it would behoove us to be more open about them all.  Is it easy to talk about for most people?  No.  It’s can be very difficult.  And it is very necessary, I think.  There is a lot shame and judgement surrounding all of them, and that makes people reluctant to talk about them.

There are a lot of people who think that committing suicide is a selfish act.  Jenny Doh wore a great post on this very subject.  As she said, it is not about you or me.  It is about the person who wants the pain to end and comes to the decision that the only way is through death.  If you’ve never been there, you cannot possibly understand.  And though I find it hard to believe, there actually are people who have never felt that kind of despair.  I know a few.  Or they are lying about it.  Most, though, have had the idea at least make an appearance, however briefly.   This is the comment I left on Jenny’s post:

“Depression is a chemical imbalance in your body/brain.  It runs in families.  I have lost two brothers to suicide.  I have been seriously close to ending my own life.  I got the help I needed.  Jenny, you are absolutely right about suicide not being about you or me, but about the person who does it or attempts to do it.  I can totally understand wanting to make the pain stop.  Someone who has never felt the utter despair and hopelessness that a deep clinical depression can bring, cannot understand how this truly feels.  I would go so far as to say that no one takes his or her own life on the spur of the moment, simply because of a bad day.  Many months, years or decades of pain, whether physical or emotional or both, contribute to such an act.”

I also feel like there are different ways to kill yourself that are not even considered suicide.  Abusing drugs and alcohol are two of them.  And overeating is probably one, too.  As the saying goes, everyone is fighting some kind of a battle.  Some are more obvious than others.  Mental illness, though, usually is not so apparent.  And as long as there is so much judgement surrounding it, people will remain reluctant to speak about their struggles.  Sadly, it takes the suicide of a well-known and well-loved celebrity to get people talking about it.  My hope is that, however hard it is, that we continue the dialogue even after the media attention has died down.  As I’ve said from the beginning, and the second anniversary of this site is just a little over a month away, my purpose for sharing my story is because I believe passionately that we need to talk about these hard subjects so that we can, hopefully, make a difference in the lives of those who are suffering.

My heart goes out to the family and friends of Robin Williams.  I believe he did the best he could and stayed in this world as long as he was able to.  May you find some kind of peace in knowing that his pain has stopped.

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