An answer to the question, “What do we tell our daughters about Trump?”

I will not lie.  This entire election cycle has broken my heart and made me feel things I am ashamed to admit.  It has brought out some of the best in people and most definitely the worst in people on both sides.  The results are heartbreaking, because it feels as if hate won.  Most of us wonder what do we tell our daughters, our mothers, our sisters, our wives now that a misogynistic sexually assaulting man is in office?  I have an idea, a way to build up ourselves as women, and men and to survive the next four years.

What do we tell our daughters?  First off hate did not win, fear did.  People fear the threat of terrorism, they fear change, they fear the future.  Granted the most hateful parts of America raised up and became emboldened.  I will not lie, this terrifies me.  So what can we do?  We tell our daughters that we cannot allow a counter-fear to consume us, we must not allow the hatred we fear to consume us.  We must become supportive, and loving and less angry to survive, otherwise we will become just like those we are appalled by.

I challenge you to form support groups, groups of women who you chat with, have coffee dates with, dinner dates, lunch dates, reading groups, women who you connect with on the basis of being a woman.  We as women must stand strong and we must show our daughters how love can change things.  Support each other, build relationships and eventually invite our spouses, partners, sons, fathers into our circles.  Share with them our fears and our hope along with our dreams.  We learn to lean on each other and to support each other, we build ourselves up so that we may stand strong.  NO matter what the political view you hold, as a woman you have my support.  I will try to understand your viewpoint with a level head and an open heart, I expect you to provide me with the same understanding and acceptance.

If we cannot stand up and support each other, we will lose ourselves in hopelessness and despair.  We will become the thing we fear, angry and hateful, we cannot allow ourselves to become that.  We must continue to be the hope of the future, our daughters, sisters, mothers and lovers depend on us to become stronger than we ever thought we were, we must learn to forgive and let go of the anger.  We have to, or it will consume us.  I know because I have two modes of emotion, extreme happiness and extreme anger.  I try to stay as positive as possible, because I spent years in the darkness of my anger and it consumed me.

Photo from Alli Brown

I challenge you as a woman to find a few other ladies to spend a bit of time each week with.  Check-in with each other, create art together, drink wine together, make meals together and build each other up and break down that fear!

Cultural Exchange: Our Cuba Trip

Last month Richard flew to Jamaica to see me and my work and how my life is here.  There will be two blogs later to follow-up on that, one from myself and one from Richard.  This was an amazing time and I know that this man is definitely meant to be in my life.  As wonderful as it was for him to come here the big highlight of his visit was that I sucked it up and paid for a trip to Cuba.  What an amazing adventure.  **Please note to Americans, if you are wanting to visit Cuba you must do so on a People to People Visa.   The requirements are quite simple, limit your visit to cultural, historical, and anthropological agendas.  This means you spend time outside of the tourist attractions and with the people and in the museums.

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There are a few things, if you are an American, you must do if you visit Cuba.

1. There is no way to access any American Debit/Credit card once you get there, so take enough money to enjoy your stay.  I am dead serious, no bank machine works on your cards there.  We made that mistake and had to limit our purchases and could have enjoyed ourselves much more had we understood that it was not just that shops do not take your card but the nothing in Cuba does.
2. Your Gmail, iPhone, Android accounts all lock you out.  I needed to make an email to let people know I made it and fortunately Facebook still works, so write those important things down.  Also if you want to download a translator App do so before you leave, you cannot get any apps once you are in Cuba.  Uncle Sam is obviously watching you!
3. If you want to truly experience how Cubans live and who they are, I plead to you to register with Air B & B TODAY!  This was the most amazing part of our visit.  We stayed with a lovely family just outside of Havana.  They spoke no English, we speak very little Spanish, but they had a translator program that assisted in us asking questions about their lives.  It is the most amazing experience, similar to Peace Corps host family, you get a true feeling for who they are and how they live.
4. Forget the transportation system!  Hire a local person with a car to take you to points of interest.  In Cuba the drivers are limited to where they are allowed to take tourist.  Cuba only wants you to see what it wants to promote.
5. Forget everything you learned in school about Cuba, ask the people what it is like to live in communism, explain how it was represented to you and engage in a civil conversation seeking to understand.
6. Walk as much as you can, rest often and drink mostly water, it is very hot there.  We ended up getting lost and walking 16 miles one day around Old Havana, thru New Havana and back to Seville.
7. There are two types of money in Cuba.  Do not get them confused.  CUK is what tourist are to use and CUP is what the local people use.  25CUP=1CUK.  1CUK=$0.95 USD.  If you see a price for a beer at $50 remember this is in CUP and it will cost you less than $2.50 USD.  Food is fairly cheap and you get a lot for the cost.  Tourists are not allowed to carry CUP and they will never give you CUP in change for CUK.

We ended up staying the night in Kingston the day before our flight, it was an early flights.  We flew out of Kingston and had a flight change in Grand Cayman.  So hey I saw the Grand Cayman airport in Georgetown twice!   Unlike US flights once you get off to switch planes you must go through customs and immigration and gather your luggage, to recheck it and go back around through security again.  This might be all international flights, but the second security check seems ridiculous to me.  We arrived in Havana around 4pm.  Our host met us there and hired a driver to take us to his place.  We were immediately welcomed and then realized we did not exchange the money at the Cambio. It had seemed closed to me when we went past it.  Immediate stress on our part since we needed to buy dinner and pay the driver.  The driver, Alfredo had a friend who could exchange money for us.  Richard went with Alfredo while I spent some time with the host family getting to know them and discuss what I wanted to see.

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Richard said he got to the guy’s home and the man took the money to a back room and was back there for over 5 minutes.  This is something that I would not find odd at all having lived in Liberia and Jamaica, but for Richard it seemed sketchy.  I assured him it was normal for less developed areas.  He got an exchange rate that was a little lower than normal since he was not dealing with a Cambio.

We were offered fresh made guava juice, we drank this daily and it was delicious.  I cannot express how much I love guava.  Even here in Jamaica I look forward to the guava season.  We went to a bit of a more upscale restaurant for dinner.  I ended up accidentally ordering something with ham in it!  Tostones with Jam in Cuba is a plantain flattened and rolled into a cup filled with ham and cheese, jam is ham.  We both had a beer and I had a salad, which was a variety of vegetable separated on the plate.  I also ordered crema de queso, which is a heated cream with cheese in it.  It is delicious.  I had that twice while I was there!

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We came back to the house and spent some time with the hosts before retiring for the evening.  The next day we had planned a fairly early day.  Similar to Jamaica things do not run on a schedule.  Alfredo took us to Havana but stopped first along the way to some urban farm stuff so I could see the farms I had asked to see.  I loved how it was done, sadly I suspect that all the bragging about organics farming is bunk.  Just because they do not deal with the US does not mean that they have no access to things.  They most certainly do.

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We were driving a scenic route through New Havana and points of interest were pointed out to us.  We were then dropped off at a local landmark and told to return there by 3pm.  We first went to the Castro Museum.  According to our hosts, the Cuban government was corrupt and run by the mafia until Castro overthrew the government in what they refer to as revolution.  I understand that Cubans will not speak out against Castro, but for the most part in the beginning he was well-loved and respected.  He ran the thugs out of Cuba and ruled with a strong hand to prevent future infiltrations.  (I must confess here, I am very curious about communism and am looking for signs that it can work and it doesn’t have to be totalitarian regime.  I feel that the intention was this in the beginning.)

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I must stop here to mention that our host is an author and wrote a book about his wife and her relationship with her dad.  Her dad left Cuba in the early 60’s, I think.  He defected to the United States and she grew up in Cuba.  He is an American National hero for his role in the Bay of Pigs and in other Naval operations as he moved up the ranks in the US navy.  As proud Cubans, they are also proud of her father and his role, at least I think they were.  Again translation may have been lost.  Anyway, Pedro, our host brought out stacks of pages of research.  It was all in English and it was letters of accommodation and promotion for Ana Marie’s father. (This is our Pedro’s wife and our host as well.)

We wandered around Old Havana, this is the heart of the touristy stuff, outside of the beaches and resorts.  I did love the market and all of the old pins and buttons and communist posters.  Also funny thing, I did not know that Earnest Hemingway wrote “The Old Man and the Sea” in Cuba.  (I seriously hate Hemingway because this book was so damn boring!)  Almost everywhere you turned there was a copy of this book for sale.  Also for anyone that collects Vinyls there is a treasure trove of old, old vinyls there.

We ate lunch at an outdoor pizza place, and one thing you should know is that everyone expects a tip.  The musicians, the lady who literally pushed the buttons on the elevator at the museum both demanded tips from us.  So very strange.  We did eventually find our way back to our pick up point and shortly after we arrived Alfredo drove up.  He drove us home a different way, and this will be important for the next day.

We walked around Seville that evening with our host leading the way.  As clean as Cuba is, there is still a huge trash problem and my bubble was burst when I saw where the trash goes.  An improvement over Jamaica, only in that they do not allow it to be seen on the ground, instead they push it into the gullies.  We ended up eating at a little ice cream shop.  This was a pretty funny point for us.  Cubans call a scoop of ice cream, balls.  The girl was giving me prices to all the ice cream and she was like 1 ball, 2 balls, 3 balls, 5 balls!  The ice cream was delicious, but so was the grilled cheese sandwiches we had.

Our hosts offered to fix us breakfast each day for $5 a piece.  We gladly accepted this and were blessed with some wondrous fresh fruit straight from their yard. Fresh guava juice and Cuban coffee were also amazing.  Cuban coffee is served in a super tiny cup similar to espresso and it is only sweetened, no milk is added, I have been lied to all my life.  I thought Cuban coffee was served with condensed milk, it is not.  Also Richard was told communism would lead to standing in line for bread, false.  He and the host walked to the bakery to pick up two loaves the first night for breakfast the next day.  I do not like beets, but as courtesy I ate the beets we were offered on toast with eggs.  It was actually quite nice.  I cannot determine if the beets were fresh or canned.  The second day we had the rest of the beets and tomatoes.  All three breakfasts consisted of bread toasted, eggs cooked with onion, fruit, coffee, guava juice and some sort of side dish.  The last day instead of beats we were given home-made mayo which was far superior to jarred stuff and this block of hard brown stuff similar to taffy.  I believe it was tamarind and it was amazing.  Then Ana Marie said to put the mayo on the mystery substance and that actually tasted good as well.

On Saturday, our last official day to spend touring we decided to walk.  We first were going to check out the local town, but eventually wandered into Old Havana.  We ended up walking 16 miles that day and boy did our legs feel it.  We took a more vested look at the architecture and noticed much more about the way people live.  People would sell things out of their doors or on their stoops.  I did notice a line to a department store, it seems that limiting how many are allowed in at a time is crucial.  I believe it was about safety and not so much control as the buildings are quite weathered.  If you look down a doorway into a building you can see that the roof is often missing in the middle and people tend to migrate to the exterior areas.  It seems that the middle of buildings are allowed to crumble but the faces are kept up.  You can see into people’s living rooms and although modestly furnished they were quite clean and tidy.  Being that we were not with a group tour we were able to see things that we as foreigners are not supposed to see.

Cuba is like a step through a time portal.  Old movies depicting life in the Bronx or Brooklyn where kids played stickball in the street and old cars drove through is exactly what parts of Havana look like.  The fact that main roads are shared with mostly old American cars from the 50’s and 60’s and newer cars from other parts of the World along with donkey carts and bicycles is pretty telling of  time standing mostly still.   When we got close to home that last night we stopped at a little restaurant and ordered dinner.  There was no beer there so lucky for us the hosts had filled  a little fridge with beer and bottled water.  It seems that you must first boil water in Cuba before you drink it, I suppose for a foreigner that is a good practice no matter where you visit as water systems change from place to place and your body needs a bit of time to adjust to it.  I had asked about just refilling the bottles and I hope I did not offend our hosts as I was simply horrified by the wastefulness of single-use bottles.

I do not know if you know this but Cuban music is just as diverse as American music.  They have pop, they have cultural and they even have some serious death metal going on.  The video here is my favorite but it is because of the story it tells.  It tells of the Castro Revolution and how he saved the people from the brutal Mafia Dons.

Internet is limited there.  People have cell phones but they are not useful outside of the metropolitan areas.  In many parks you will find a lot of people on their phones looking up things, watching You Tube and checking into Facebook.  Our hosts did have internet but only on their computer, so WIFI is not prevalent there.  If you are in a park and see many persons on their phones and some man psssst at you he is only trying to let you know he has pre-paid internet cards available for sale.  It was $3 CUK for 1 hour and that lasts until you use up the hour.  So I leave you with this question, if you paid for every moment you were on the internet how would you budget that?  It seems a crazy idea, but much of the World is operating this way, so how would you manage your time?

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Beyond growing up is growing whole

This is a personal conflict of mine.  It is a battle I have been fighting from the time I was young.  It is a battle I am tired of fighting.  It is the pain that still pierces my heart.

I am going to share first the pain I lived through growing up.  If you read my blog you know that I lived with sexual harassment and assault daily in high school.  I have so much trauma over it that as soon as I finally had found someone to marry, who was more of an escape than a partner, I allowed myself to gain a massive amount of weight.  I went from 120 lbs to 230 lbs over a 3 year period.  Until recently I have never really thought about my weight gain, mostly just about my weight loss and my healthier lifestyle.  I used to blame it on beer and pizza but in reality, I can finally say, it was about making myself less desirable.  It was about avoiding unwanted attention and making myself unattractive.  Even before I was married I suffered sexual harassment at work.  Men would try to stick their hands up my uniform skirt, they would say rude sexual things, they would touch me inappropriately and I did nothing to defend myself physically.  I never understood that I was the victim of the worst type of abuse and no matter who dished it out, I just took it.  I felt weak and alone.  I felt ugly and picked on.

This abuse built up over time.  When I was in second grade, about age 8, my family moved to a new school district.  It was hard enough to move in the middle of the school year but it was even worse that my mother dressed me like Raggedy Ann with bloomers and frilly dresses with pinafores (read aprons).  Some of my clothes even had bonnets like Holly Hobby.  To top it off my mother insisted that I have my hair permed in the biggest wooliest fro ever.  So she sent me to school as a target, literally.  The first day of class a boy named Richard Duran pulled the chair out from under me just before I sat down and I nearly broke my tailbone, I may actually have.  I will never know because my parents never took us to the doctor unless someone demanded it.  Later on that year I was the VIP for the week.  We all got one week to be VIP (Very Important Person) and we had a corner with a bulletin board to put up pictures and display our favorite things for the week.  As a child I collected Breyers horses and my mom would only allow me to take one.  I took the first one I was ever given. That Friday for some reason we went across the street to the high school and watched the boys basketball team play.  That same boy grabbed my horse out of my box and since he was a row ahead of me I could not reach it as he put it down on the gym floor and the basketball hit it and broke off all the legs.  I cried for hours, maybe days.  Actually I still cry.  This boy tormented me for years.  I hated him. I hated him so bad that about 10 years ago I heard he committed suicide and I was inwardly happy he was dead.  Is that not sick?  Is that not a sign there is something desperately wrong?  No that is a sign that a bully finally got what they may have deserved.  It is hard to mourn your tormentors, like a child suffering abuse when their abusive parent is arrested, they do not really feel regret, just relief.

This abuse in my younger years likely bruised my ego enough to leave me open to the abuse in high school.  If only someone would have stepped up and defended me? I still hate most of the people I grew up with.  Not because they all tormented me but because no one ever stood up for me or picked me up.  I came home from school everyday and cried.  Every new school year I made a list of goals for the year.  Number one on my list every year until my senior year was to be popular and to not cry everyday.  To this day I never cry in public, I rarely cry in private, it is a sign of weakness to me.  I  have a really hard time with crying.  It makes me feel vulnerable and weak and I refuse to be weak around anyone.

Church was no better for me.  I suffered abuse from the pastor’s wife.  I tried to be a good Christian but just never measured up.  I failed at everything.  I was in low math and English classes for years.  At some point, maybe 4th grade I got bumped to the upper English class.  They even put me in the Title 1 class for awhile.  Title 1 is the special needs but not super special needs class.  I cannot even remember how long I was there.  By 6th grade I made it to the top portion of the math class.  I worked my ass off to get there too. I made honor roll every quarter after that.  It was my one thing of pride in all my school years.  I was finally recognized for something good.  In all my grade school years I avoided recess any time I could.  I made excuses and I helped teachers make bulletin boards or worked in the library.  Any reason to not have to spend recess with the other kids.  I hated recess and would rather not play, maybe because it was so lonely or maybe because it was not lonely enough and kids made fun of me.

I think the turning point for me was being in the one physically abusive relationship I was in.  Learning to trust myself and trust other people to understand me was certainly difficult.  I think chat rooms helped me by giving me some distance from those who were interacting with me.  I became pretty aggressive and thick skinned over the barrage of verbal abuse.  I learned how to defend myself with words.  I also learned how to defend myself physically.  After the abusive relationship ended, I had a support group to lean on and learn from.  I also had made one of the greatest friends of my life.

I believe that relationships begin and end for a reason.  I believe that people enter and leave our lives at just the right times.  I believe that nothing is just a random point of fate. I believe we can either build ourselves up or we can allow ourselves to be torn down, but everyone needs to know how to do this.  I think I am strong but I can easily be broken down.  I put on a tough exterior and the tattoos and piercings are part of that.  It is my armor, my protection.  If I can be just weird enough only persons who understand me will stick around long enough to get close enough to get inside.

I have a long way to go to really become whole again.  I have grown up and I have found peace and joy in my life, but all of that buries the pain of my past deep in my head.  One day I will have to face it all.  One day I will have to forgive and move on. To this day I get a great deal of anxiety thinking about going to my hometown.  I refuse to even put any information about where I am from in any of my online backgrounds.  I have less than 5 people from my past on my Facebook or online accounts.

So the question I have for you, how do I move forward, how do I face that pain and focus on forgiving people I hate?  How do I accept this and move forward to becoming whole?  It is a question that has been on my mind lately and I need some answers?

Most tattoos hold a story, mine are more than a story.

Last night another volunteer asked me what my new octopus tattoo meant.  No one has ever really asked me about the story behind my tattoos other than my chest piece.  The chest piece obviously has a story.  It is the date of my bike collision and it reminds me daily that I am lucky to be alive.

It took me by surprise to be asked about the octopus.  It took me a few moments to verbalize it and when I finally did it was amazing.  So each of my tattoos represent a specific piece of my personality.  It sounds weird but it is true.  The octopus represents my resourcefulness, my ability to find a solution to life’s abundance of problems.  I never really put it into words what my sea creature tattoos mean.

My first tattoo was my little seahorse.  I just separated from my husband and dealt with an amazing amount of emotional abuse and lack of trust.  The male seahorse gives birth, and that had a lot of meaning to me.  He is my escape from masculine strength in gender roles.  He is my realization of self.  Who I am was not who I was and that was a very powerful realization.

My sailfish is my favorite.  He represents my fight, my anger and my toughness.  If you have ever fished for sailfish, you know the fight they put up.  The sailfish never gives up even when he is beat down and inside the boat.   I have heard that fisherman can still get speared by the sailfish in the boat.

My nautilus is my emotional security.  It represents that part of me that I hide and keep to myself.  That protective armor is very important for me.  I can pull in and protect my emotions.  I rarely expose myself fully to avoid getting hurt.  Lately I have began to expose small pieces of myself and explore my past pain.  It is not so easy but it is that point where I am ready to let go of some of my pain.

My cowfish represents my positivity, my ability to find beauty in the ugliness of this world.  The cowfish is not the prettiest creature but it has a hidden beauty to me.  It is my optimism in the face of the ugliness in the World.  I can almost always see beyond the initial and see the good in everything.

My bike head-badge is a trophy of an accomplishment that I never thought would happen.  It is my willpower and my stubbornness.  This represents my inability to quit.  No matter what happens it is not in me to quit.  I have wanted to quit many things in my life but have never found the ability to actually quit, I always follow through.  Even my marriage was miserable but I would not have ever quit.  I was miserable but would have stayed and just lived with it if he had not left me.  This is a strength and a weakness.  I have learned to end toxic relationships, but I typically allow them to linger on for far too long.  But I am learning!

What stares back at you in the mirror?

This blog is more about me and my life than about Jamaican culture.  Although the strong religious influence here has made me stop and pause and reflect on much of my past.  In the past decade there have been many cases of sexual abuse by Catholic Priests, there have been money scams done by devout Christians, and rampant denial of basic rights to anyone who is different from the mainstream.   What if I told you none of this matters?  What if I told you I do not actually believe in God?  What if I told you that I tried to find God for many years and somehow I failed miserably?

For years I was a Pentecostal raised in the Blood Christian.  So when people tell me how Christian they are I often scrutinize.  Why?   Because I know what I know about the Bible, and it is a ton of stuff.   I can tell you that polygamy existed, that sacrifices happened, and that God tends to be a downright bastard at times.  Why would you ask someone to kill their son?  Or turn a woman into salt for simply turning around to see her home one last time?  I for one never liked the vengeful God that causes preachers to scream at the people in church.  To cause children to fear God, why would God want us to fear him?  Hold onto you hats people!  I have a huge revelation for you!   The Bible is written in metaphors and it is written by man and interpreted by man.  Sooooo this means that all that flailing and crying and wailing that happens when you feel the spirit, well it could be real but mostly I think it is a show of fear.

You see I prayed hard for most of my life.  I prayed for people to accept me and for my marriage to work, for my children’s health and for a decent life.  I never wanted to be rich or have wonderful things, what I wanted was a way to find contentment.  Instead all I ever found was strife.  When I talk about finding real true peace, I actually mean it.  I hate war, I hate lies and I hate having to struggle daily to feed my family.  In the last 20 years I have learned so much more about myself once I gave up this idea of God coming to my rescue.  I have found an inner strength that cannot be destroyed.  I have found that I actually like myself and I truly dislike the people who do not accept me for me.

fallow land

I find more peace daily by simply living.  I enjoy a cup of coffee and a nice breakfast in the morning.  I enjoy the silence or the soft music as I sip my daily coffee. Once I realized that conforming to anyone else’s idea of who I should be was never going to find me inner peace, only depression and despair.  When I stripped my beliefs down to what I truly believe and what I was taught, I began to understand myself even more.  And I was left with hurt, resentment and anger.  I was left with these due to those who were supposed to help me grow as a child of God but instead nearly killed my soul.  So I now ask you, what stares back at you in the mirror?  Is it an empty soul or a fulfilled one?  Is it a sad child that never really found their place or is it a strong adult who learned from the pain of growing up?

My mother was a super-Jesus-freak when I was growing up.  My dad lived with us but he didn’t live with us.  He was not religious and there was always tension in the house.  I grew up wearing dresses on Sundays going to church Sunday morning, Sunday night and Wednesday nights.  I even had to go for week-long revivals when those events happened.  I would get on my knees for altar call and I would seek God.  Any kind of touch would have been nice, but all I ever found was blackness.

Light in the darkness

In high school we got this wonderful energetic young pastor and his family at our church.  They worked to re-energize the youth group and I happily attended.  We went on skating trips, inner tube down the snowy mountain trips, and even to a CARMEN concert.  Sadly even in a church youth group there are the cool kids and the not so cool kids.  I was a not so cool kid.  I grew up thinking I must be ugly because this was a continual problem for me.  I just wanted to be accepted, no special treatment, just to be accepted, but I was always that fringe kid.  If I had not been so far out in the sticks I might have found my place much sooner.

There is one incident that always stand out for me.  I was a sophomore, 1986 New Year’s Eve to be exact.  There was a party held at the parsonage (pastor’s house).   I went and hung out for a while.  The cool kids were all drinking in the street. The church kids, the ones that were cool were attending this church party and drinking in the street.  I met a new kid at the party.  He lived across the street, moved there over the Christmas break.  He was younger than me by several years, but he was a nice kid.  I remember talking for a very long time with him.  I mentioned the park and was telling him the different things around the town.  He did not know there was a park 2 blocks away.  I decided to show him.  I told my best friend where we were going and then stepped out the door.  I even waved to the pastor and walked down the road.  I was gone for about 30 minutes and returned back.  As soon as I took my jacket off the pastor’s wife grabbed me and shoved me into the back room.  She proceeded to yell at me and informed me that if I left again she was going to call my mom and tell her what a whore I was!  Her exact words, I will never forget them.  I already struggled daily with sexual harassment and this woman who is supposed to be my role model tells this young girl who is a virgin what a whore she is.  That day I broke on the inside.

That demon that my mother feared was in me came out that day.  I had my first sexual encounter that night because I was going to get beat for it anyway.  That day the fragile girl who was always quiet in the corner became a raging beast.  I gave up on hoping to ever belong.  I gave up on trying to fit in and became a fighter.  I lost all respect for authority and started speaking up for myself.  I fought the boys, I fought the system and I hated everyone and everything.  If this is what Godly people do, I want no part of it.

When I was pregnant I tried to go back to the church because I wanted to give my children a good moral start.  I was not treated quite like that ever again, but my pain was very real.  I tried to connect in the church but I just could not.  I tried several churches and I sought God but just never found him.

Beauty in darkness

Do not mourn my loss of faith, it was never mine anyway.  Do not pray for my soul, it does not need saving.  Just remember the words you say cut like a knife.  Remember young girls are actually listening and your words will mean the difference between sexual promiscuity and a faithful partner.  I have never forgotten those words, and frankly I have never forgiven her for her cruelty.  I keep that little piece of anger inside me at all times.  When people say things about me I call up that flame and protect myself.  The old saying sticks and stones break bones but words can never hurt me?  It is a lie!  Words do the most damage, because the healing never happens, the damage is invisible and often goes unnoticed.

I am a buddhist now. I practice yoga and meditation and being a good and kind person, I have no desire to inflict the damage that was done to me in the name of God on anyone else ever.  So there now you know why when I am invited to church I struggle.  I have a physical reaction to the idea.  I get sick to my stomach and my head begins to hurt.  My soul cries No do not do this to me again, so I am sorry if I offend you by not going, but I simply just can’t!

The person I see in the mirror is someone I admire. I see a survivor. I see the scars of a life well lived.  I see the pain in the eyes that swears to never inflict pain on others.  I see a happiness that has replaced years of sadness and despair.  I see someone who I respect and love and for me that is everything.  Living many years hating yourself gives you a greater joy when you can love yourself, so no I do not go to church and I really do not know if there is a God, but I know who I am and that is enough.

Finding balance in an unbalanced world

I am a rebellious spirit.  Always have been.  My mother for years along with many pastors and aunts have tried to stifle my rebellion.  I think this part of my soul is a valuable and valid part of who I am.  This rebellion is something that I admire in myself.  When someone tells me something cannot be done, my entire being screams inside, it can but you are too scared to try.  So then I try.  Sometimes I fail, but in the end my rebellion has proved valuable to me in seeing the world differently.  In seeing how things can be and not how they are.

In my youth I did not understand how to be authentic and still function within the structures of society.  I have learned that to destroy something it must be done within and not from the outside.  This means you have to have the ability to function within societal guidelines and push from within.  It was how MLK worked.  He chose non-violent protests unlike the “Black Panthers” who chose to destroy from the outside.  Ultimately both actions brought the society of bigotry and hatred to its knees.  If MLK had gone the route of attacking from outside then the results would have been drastically different.

In my lifetime I have seen the destruction of so many societal norms, mostly carried out within the confines of those same societal norms.  I see equality is still not where it should be, but every day we take baby steps towards a fully equal society.   We can see that those who want things just as they are are now on the defensive and that makes any movement weak.  One day things like bigotry and hatred will be a thing of the past and I look forward to that day, until then the battle must continue.  Equality for all women and men of any color and even of all sexual orientations is essential for any nation to move forward.

Change is difficult, which is one reason I embrace my rebellious side.  My rebellious side is always looking for change, so change is not scary and I no longer fear change.  I believe that to stay in the same place our entire life stops our growth as individuals and as a society.  We can see that in the recent #blacklivesmatter movement.  Social media has taken rebellion to an entirely new level.  We can no longer sit back and pretend we have no idea what is going on in our world.  It is right there in our face, we just have to find enough truth in the muddle of media and come to our own opinions.

My personal opinions conflict with that of most of my family.  Let the bashing commence!  I believe in women’s rights to choose her own destiny, to be able to determine if she really wants to have a baby and to be treated equal in the workplace.  I believe in the rights of men and women of all races to live and work in peace without being harassed for their cultural differences.  I believe in the rights of individuals to love whomever they want.  The choice to dress how they want and to identify in any way that suits them.  Equality means I myself have to let go of my own prejudices.  It means that I have learned to accept anyone and everyone at every level of the spectrum.  Equality also means that those who are handicapped are given equal opportunities to pursue a life they enjoy and as much as possible be able to become independent.

To me these truths were the path to happiness. If you have faith and practice it, then by all means be free to do so, but just like I do not have the right to grab your Bible and spit in it, you do not have the right to beat me down with it!  Remember true equality is accepting that there are those who do not believe as you do and that is ok.  My eternal life is my own business, and please do not pray for my salvation, I have found a much higher peace in finding myself.  This means that by letting go of my faith I have found peace, which I never had in my faith.

Religion and faith is not for everyone and trying to force it on others is demeaning and defeats YOUR purpose of trying to convert others.  Just like seeing Muslims as monsters for practicing their faith to a zealot fashion, Christians are doing the same, it just looks different.  I choose to find the beauty and connections within nature and people.  I find it is far more important to find a common thread that we can embrace than to find every individual in a church.  I also have seen the greatest sins behind the walls of the church.  My rebellion means that I can look past one’s faith to see the true person.

Cutting off the cloths of faith and religion and seeing a bare soul free of all constraints is a far more liberating and even important aspect than how much church you attend.  There are good people all around and the diversity is important.  When I see people I can see what some would say is God, just like when I look out into the ocean I feel so connected with myself and nature that I sometimes lose hours just being.  And that is when you know you have found balance.

Going back to the beginning.

In the past few years my life has really come into focus.  I have found joy in the smallest things and learned many things about who I am.  I really think my bike collision was a pivotal point in my journey.  I have many issues with my past, things that cause me pain, things that cause me confusion and things that I generally choose to ignore.  These last few days have brought my past barreling down the hill at me.

First off I want to thank Richard’s parents for taking the time to come down here to spend time with me before I leave.  They were here in September and chose to come back this past week.  It meant so much to me.  Richard made a ver good point to me, one that brings my past to light.  My parents could not be bothered to make the time to come down, but his did.  My dad makes promises that I never hold onto.  He almost never follows through, it is just something I have learned to live with.  My mom just seems to never make the time.  I know the trip is far and expensive, but she just can never quite bring herself to come see me, even when I was in Seattle.  It does not normally bother me, but this week it kind of hurt a little.

We spent Monday in San Francisco.  I love that town, there is just so much to see and do.  We rode a trolley down the hill, I even got to stand on the outside, which is quite scary if the operator says “brakes don’t work so well!”  Tuesday  was my final get together with the ladies that I rent from.  Hoping to say goodbye to a few other folks this evening.  Wednesday we headed to Monterey.  I have to reapply for my Birth Certificate and since I was born down there, Richard decided we should go there for my last few days with him.  I was born there, I did not grow up there.  In fact I do not even remember being there.

Sometimes fate pulls some funny stuff on us.  My whole life I have felt out-of-place, until I moved to Seattle. I felt like that square peg that was never going to fit into that round hole.  I was always that weird chick, the one no one ever dated, the one people kept a distance from.  I had friends, but they were very few.  When we got to Monterey it was like coming home.  I realized that my whole life my pain and my feeling of lost was based on the Ocean calling me.  It is so strong that I even wanted to be a Marine Biologist and work for Sea World at one point in my life.  That is until someone told me that jobs like that are too competitive and I would never make it.  Why do I listen to people like that?    I gave up that idea and focused on raising a family, which left me empty in places.  A loveless marriage, a desire to uproot and fly free were not helping my emptiness.  It only just came into focus this week, what was missing in my life.

To Richard I owe everything.  He has helped me grow and confront those nagging fears and self doubts.  A man who simply tells me, “Anything you want to do, I have no doubt you will do it!”  How can I walk away from that?  How do I walk out the door on the love of my life and the most supportive person I have ever known?  It really is very simple.  I know that no matter what I will come back to him, he knows it too.  He knows that he is the most important person in my life.  He and my children are the ones I care about the most.  I know that he will be here when I get back.  I know that he is waiting for me.  I also know that our relationship is based on trust.   I trust that I will have a home to come back to.  He trusts that I will come back.  For us this is the best relationship.  No one is holding anyone back, expectations are based on love and compassion and we have great communication.

You can never quite outrun your past, but you can overcome it.

I hate this.  Just before a major change in my life, I meditate on how I got here.  It is not intentional and I cannot help it.  It invades my dreams and my thoughts randomly.  It is like I cannot escape yet it really has no effect on my current situations.

Most notable are my past relationships.  I want to point out here that in no way am I sad by the end of those relationships.  But they sometimes haunt my thoughts.  Why?  Most likely because without the struggles and the abuse of my past I would not be at this very juncture in my life.  I would not have moved forward this far.  I would not have found my voice and my strength.  I would not have found the courage to pursue my dreams. So this post is not looking at specific incidents but more at the result of those incidents.

What most of us forget is that our struggles make us who we are.  Without struggles our lives never grow, we simply exist.  It was one of the most frustrating things about growing up religious that I encountered.  So here is where it begins, my childhood, which I resent passionately.  I resent being force-fed religion and being bullied into submission if I questioned what I was being fed.  I often think about how during my church days the pastors always suggested to me that my struggles were do to lack of faith on my part, or lack of full commitment.  Anyone that knows me, knows that I never waver, I am either all in or not at all.  There is no fence.  It was often suggested that my life would be perfect and struggle free if I would tithe and get more involved.  I tried to get more involved but I was never quite good enough.  Tithing is difficult when you have no money for food for your kids.  Paying the church $200 a month could mean living on Ramen or having real fresh food for that month.  Trust me I tried to have faith in that, but it pained me to see my children suffer.  In many places that should be considered child abuse.

Think about this fairy tale for a moment.  The perfect life, free of struggle is yours if you struggle right now.  Ok so life without struggle, what does that look like?  I envisioned a life where kids are perfect, money is never an issue, you have a home and reliable transportation and you go to tennis lessons.  You sit down as a family, there is not conflict, life if like Leave it to Beaver!  Think about this for a moment, would you be happy in this life?  A life that is predictable and boring?  A life that is just too perfect to be real?  I would and it took me until my 30’s to realize that this life was not only a fairy tale but also just plain damn boring.  Without struggles we become complacent.  If there is not challenge there is not reason to strive to improve.  If we are handed the perfect life, then what is left?  I imagine Heaven to be a very boring place.  No struggles, no challenges, how very well  perfect to be frank.  How perfectly boring.

So I embrace the struggles of life.  Not knowing if you can pay the bills, not knowing if you will be able to eat today, these struggles are a little harsh.  Yet they cause us to be creative to learn to trust ourselves.  These struggles give us strength and allow us to realize how much we can carry.  In those days I used to say to myself, I am not Job.  I do not want to be pressured this hard, I cannot carry the burden.  What I did not realize is that I could handle the pressure but the dream was a fairy tale.  When you realize that the goal is not attainable, you give up hope.  What your really need to do is figure out what it is that is attainable, and reset our goals.  It is this weird trap, you set yourself up for the perfect life, which you will never be able to attain.  You fail, you lose all hope and you give up.  When you find yourself in this space it is time to realize that society set you up for it.  Whether it be religious leaders or societal leaders, they guide you to this unattainable goal.  They make it look perfect and happy, but the reality is, it is never going to be reality.  It is a way to keep us in line.  If we start to question these ideas we become dangerous to the underlying norms.

This was probably my biggest lesson.  When I made another decision or went into another relationship the goal was ultimately the same.  To get to that perfect life.  Even those times I chose the baddest boy I could find, the goal was to gain that perfect life.  The choices I made were also a bit of rebellion at that goal.   I did not want to achieve it in the traditional paths.  I wanted the perfect life, but I wanted it on my terms.  I have since learned that my terms will never get that perfect life anymore than the traditional paths.

Once you move past those realities you begin to see things more clearly.  This is the gift of my past.  Those struggles and failed relationships enabled me to move past this fairy tale goal.  They helped me find my true passion and my real goals.  Without those struggles I would still be seeking that fairy tale.  I would still be hoping for Prince Charming and  little house with a white picket fence.  I would still be expecting that perfect struggle free life, instead I seek out adventure.  My life now is about living not waiting.  It is about adventure and learning and growing as a human and not about seeking the perfectly boring life.  My life is now about the Journey not the destination.  The journey itself is the goal.  It took me a very long time to realize that, it took me through abusive partners, partners who took financial advantage of me, partners who never considered my goals or desires, but I made it.  I made it to the point of having the best partner I could ever ask for.  A partner who supports my dreams.  A partner who loves me for who I am and is not afraid to let me fly.  I would not change anything about my life, except maybe how long it took me to learn the lessons I needed to from the bad relationships I have been in.  Sometimes letting go is the only way to learn to fly!

Finding my humanity and forgiving my past

I rode my big beautiful bike today. It is the first time I officially went shopping since we moved here. I went to two stores. Trader Joes to get greens and coconut creamer for my coffee. I ended up with peppers onions and oranges as well. As I was headed out I saw a woman with a sign that said she had lost her job and had three children. She had three beautiful little girls with her.

I remember back when I lost my job and those safety nets that are supposed to help seemed to have huge holes in them. Holes that I seemed to slip through. At one point I ended up going to the food bank and borrowed a friend’s utility bill to go twice in a month. She would never have stooped to going to the food bank, I think she had trauma from childhood experiences. The deal was that I would go and she would get to pick out some stuff that she might need and I got the rest. I also remember being so desperate that I asked friends to clean out their cabinets and freezers to help feed my kids.

What people do not understand is when you have children and life deals you a blow it is beyond devastating. Your ego is already bruised but your faith also waivers. You wonder how God could do this to you? What did you do that deserves to have your children starve or sleep on stoops? In the end this on top of many other blows my faith disintegrated. I am actually happier now that I know I can only rely on myself and the kindness of others. In my worst moments, my friends held me up. The system failed me, God seemed to fail me, but my friends and my own tenacity carried me through. Some might think that this is indicative of God helping me, but this ultimately just hardened me. But this is not about my lack of faith.

This is about my understanding what it is like to be desperate with children to support. Scared and ultimately ready to give up. As I left I pulled up to her and told her I had no money, but I just bought a bag of oranges. I gave them all oranges an they all gladly accepted. This is when you know the need is genuine. When accepting a small amount of food brings on a huge feeling of gratitude. Had she been there when I had arrived I would have grabbed other nibbles for them, but I was in the way of traffic and did not think about it until I had left.

It is in those small moments that your heart breaks and you find your humanity, or you harden yourself and you just walk on by. In the end I did it out of the memory of the pain from my past. Knowing that someone saw your humanity, they cared enough to stop and did not just walk on by. I typically only offer food to those I see on the street, they often take it, some will just give me a dirty look, and those are the ones not really ready to receive help.

2014 the best year of my life, so far!

Although weight wise I am no where near where I want to be, I do feel ok. This year has given me a great deal to reflect on. I used to envy people who did great things and had adventures. Now I am that person I used to envy. You know what, I still envy, but now I envy myself! That is a pretty great place to be. Once I can inwardly focus, my outward focus becomes greater than myself.

My motto for 2015, today is the day! Never wait until tomorrow, for it will never come. That is a bit true. I waited until my kids were grown up to go out and change myself and the World. If I had been able to give up the comforts of being slightly in control of things, I could have done it way sooner. It would have been great to teach my kids the value of experiences over things. I would have loved for them to see how helping people rewards itself. But alas I am a bit too late.

Well not entirely, I know my daughter gets it, and I hope she wraps her brain around living small to live big. Living small is confining your physical living space to expand your living experience. If we all wait until we are bikini ready to live, we will never be ready to live. It is a cruel paradox of our society. Promising you that this or that is what you need to overcome to achieve happiness! This or that is not in the way, this and that are the excuse to cover up fear. That is probably the greatest lesson for me of 2014.

Having finally stepped foot in African soil, I know that the only way to achieve dreams is to just go for it. The paradigm shift here has to be that your dreams must be attainable, and realistic. I certainly wish for a car-free world, but that is just not attainable. So I focus instead on pedestrian and bike advocacy. Making it safer to walk and bike, creates a desire to use cars less. This is a much more attainable goal and you can see the results. Just like wishing that I was a size 6 is just not attainable, wishing I looked good in pants a few sizes smaller is. So I focus on what I know is attainable and less about what society tells me I should strive for. I do not want to look like a heroine addict! I want to have a healthy glow about me, but that has to come from the inside before you can see it on the outside.

2014 you have been my favorite year. Richard finally moved to a new state, I have been trying to escape my home forever, not because I do not love Seattle, but because I have never lived anywhere else. I went on to live in Liberia for a few months. I loved, lived and died a little over there. I came back to the hardest living situation ever, I mean ever. Worse than when I lived with the guy that though I should love him, when I thought he just wanted to be a friend. I overcame one of my biggest fears, the fear of confrontation. We were not happy, we were in the “wrong” by breaking the lease, but for our own sanity we had to do it. It cost us $227 and the $400 deposit loss, but it was so worth it. We are much happier here. I can walk around upstairs and not offend the neighbors. I have beautiful bike trails and lanes. I am not far from Downtown and I have a local bar across the street. Although I wish so hard that more locals met up there, I am liking the fact that everyone is nice and friendly.

So to 2015 I saw, top that! Bring it on 2015, show me what you got, I am prepared for my next adventure. I know that my time stateside is short, March 9 I am off to Jamaica. I am prepared to learn so much more than I can teach. That is the beauty of Peace Corps, it changes you almost more than the changes you make in the communities you live in.