Shall We Dance?

       I have two children, both boys, and they bless me every day.  They are my world, my existence, my love place.  After the birth of my second son I found that quite a few people were asking me if I was going to have another.  "I just had this one," I would think, but I found myself answering that maybe we would try for a girl.  I did want a little girl, but as I conversed with my husband about conceiving another child, he got my mind to wondering.  He spoke very logically about money and time and sleep, and I was disappointed.  But why was I sad about not having another child?  I was already not sleeping at night and we were both stretched beyond the limit to give them the attention and support that they desired.  Then I started to feel guilty about my longing for another child.  It really wasn't fair to the baby that I just had to immediately have another one, because then he wouldn't ever have the one-on-one with mommy time that I desperately wanted to lavish upon him.  So WHY did I feel the need to have a little girl?  Letting myself sit in that question for a while, I allowed the answers to float around in my brain until I could reach up and grab the true one.  Because I wanted a miniature me, because I wanted to see what I would look like as a little girl, because I wanted to raise a little girl to breathe fire, because I wanted to instill the strength and confidence into a little person that I never had as a child, because I wanted to protect a little girl...because I wanted to protect MY little girl.  That was it!  I had my innocence snatched away at such a young age that I was never able to truly BE a little girl.  Well, that was indeed a purely selfish reason to have another child.  So now what?  I had to find my inner child.  I had to remember who I was before bad things happened in my life.  I had to remember what it was like to feel free.  But I needed a little help remembering.  Have you ever just sat and watched your children?  Like, REALLY watched?  Aren't they little gods?  The young ones, the ones who haven't been damaged by other people yet.  The ones who are still just themselves.  They are perfect, beautiful, and pure.  They wake up when they're ready to wake up, and sleep when they're ready to sleep, and eat when they're ready to eat.  They cry when their little feelings are hurt, they squeal with excitement at the smallest of delights, and they scream in anguish when they are frightened.  They wallow on the floor and eat dirt and splash in the mud.  They strip down naked and run around laughing at the pleasure that they feel as the wind whips around their bare butts.  They laugh without restraint and dance to music that isn't there.  They don't care about rules or manners, or anything that we think they should care about.  They care about how they feel and they long to explore the world around them.  Everything is new and magical to them.  Magic!  That's definitely it.  Children believe in things that we are taught can't exist, and they're happy with that.  Children don't know why the rain falls, nor do they care.  They only want to run and play in the puddles that collect in the street.  They don't care about the mess they're making, they care about the fun that they're having along the way.  As adults it isn't always feasible to strip down and roll in the dirt, but there comes a time when we have to remember who we were.  Only then can we heal from trauma and pain that happened along the way to adulthood.  We have to go back, back to a time when we were innocent and free and unconfined.  We have to learn not to care about other people's opinions of us once more.  We have to remember how to believe in magic and how to dance in the rain when the only music playing is in our hearts.
What's your child dancing to?

"Invisible Bruises- Defining And Escaping Abuse" with guest blogger Katie Pitzer Thorton

       I turned the corner of I-77 into Columbia.  It was 1:00 am.  I made it.  I made it out of a twenty year abusive relationship and I did not die.  I almost did.  I came close.  The sight of the city lights of downtown brought me to tears.  I pulled into my parent's driveway, walked over to my sister's house next door and began to tell her that I was drowning and had left.  She already knew that, she had watched me drown helplessly for two decades.
       This was a weekend trip from Florida for Father's Day.  My counselor had asked me to go alone.  I had brought my two youngest kids with me.  Their father was not capable of caring for them, but the older two would be fine for three days.  We stood in the kitchen the next day and my father said, "We're done here, right?"  I said, "Yes."  He immediately began sobbing with relief.  He had been on his knees for years over me.  He looked instantly ten years younger.
       The next week we returned and collected my other kids.  I took a leave of absence from work.  The counselor and my father-in-law removed him from our house.  My father-in-law stood on the front porch and told me he would be a "new man" in two weeks.  Six months later there was no new man.  He went to rehab for one day.
       When I would not return to pick up the pieces, my father-in-law took his son to an attorney friend's office and filed for the immediate return of my kids WITHOUT dissolution of marriage because, and I quote, "We believe with counseling, Kate can be restored to the marriage."  I hired a lawyer in Florida, gave half my paycheck for eighteen months, and went to court in Florida for almost two years.  I did not lose my children.  They do have to visit him.  He still endangers them.  His father still props him up.
       I was told that I could never divorce or leave him, no matter how hard it got, because God hates divorce.  As a result, I was guilted into twenty horrible years that almost physically killed me.  I developed a rare, deadly autoimmune disease I will receive treatment for forever.  The treatment is sixty thousand dollars a month.  It resulted in financial ruin.  It resulted in damaged kids.  My son in on the Autism spectrum, and because I was made to homeschool him with no money, support, or resources because he said the world was evil, he is severely behind.  I am having to climb the corporate ladder all over again at 44 because I had to stay home for seven years.  Only bad mothers work.  That's what his mother told me for years.  Someone in the household has to work, my husband would not.  Thus the financial ruin.
       I was never validated by his family once I left.  They fought me legally.  Because I did not get physically hit they did not consider it abuse.  It was abuse.  The devastation is deep and long suffering.  I may have lost much, but I left.  I did it.  You can too.

Defining Abuse

       So what is abuse?  Your situation may be like mine, no bruises.  None that you can see anyway.  But the damage is just as devastating.  I suffered in many ways.

Emotional abuse:  In the beginning of the relationship I was the most amazing thing.  I was "needed" on the phone at all hours.  There were cards and letters, dates.  But early on emotional control began.  I remember one night I went to dinner with my family and he flipped out because he couldn't find me, even calling off the engagement.  I learned to isolate myself from others to keep him #1.  Nothing was ever his fault.  I was always just being unreasonable.  Time with family or friends became such a fight emotionally I stopped trying.  Everyday was a fight over the dumbest things.  I would end each day exhausted.  

 Any behavior that manipulates your emotions and thoughts is abuse.  Constantly having to make concessions in the relationship is abuse.  Emotional abuse can be name calling, threats, teasing, putting you down, or telling you that you do everything wrong.  You could not possibly make it on your own.

Physical abuse:  Pushing, hitting, slapping, or any contact that brings you harm or is against your will is abuse.  It will happen again, no matter the promise that it will not.  It will happen to your kids if it happens to you.  Covering up bruises or marks is not okay.  It's time to end it.

Sexual abuse:  Making you watch pornography, making you do things you are not comfortable with, or affairs is abuse.  Texting other women, getting or sending pictures, or forcing you in any way is abuse.  Inappropriate behavior with your or someone else's children is also abuse and must be dealt with immediately.

Financial abuse:  This was a huge one for me.  He was underemployed or unemployed for years.  We lived in very little.  He felt God had him "in a season of life".  That was total bull because we had four small kids.  They needed to eat.  I would get him a job online and he would lose it within weeks.  He once lost a job at the pizza place for eating in the freezer!  Even still, I was to hand over babysitting money I earned to him and never see it again.  I had nothing.  I was not allowed to buy groceries.  He controlled all the shopping.  His answer for us was obsessive shopping at local food banks.  He would bring home dozens of bags of expired food and drop them in the floor for us to sort out.  He would then go get himself food out.  He also kept food hidden from us in his closet.

I once had a customer at the bank who had over a million dollars in his account.  His wife was allowed ONE account with less than a thousand dollars in it.  Her clothes were old and tattered.  Abuse!  Keeping you uniformed or away from financial decisions is abuse.  Giving you very little is abuse.  It keeps you controlled.  Then you can not leave.

Social abuse:  We were kept very isolated for a long time.  It did not help that I was always broke.  I had to ask permission to go anywhere.  Nobody came over.  He had no friends or outside purpose in life.  He did not wash a dish, cut the grass, do laundry, or fix any meals.  I did all of it.  He sat in his room and sorted through his prescriptions.  I was given 14 days a year to see my family.  Isolation kills.  You may find yourself with no help or resources at all.  That is where an abuser wants you.  Weak.  Stalking your social media accounts, controlling them, flying off the handle with absurd jealousy, or reading all your texts or emails is abuse.  That is keeping absolute control over you.

Religious abuse:  I include this one because, for some of us, this is a hard reality.  God, the bible, or church is used as a tool to abuse or enable abuse.  My father-in-law was an elder in our church.  He had a lot of pull.  Any counseling sought was controlled by him.  I even had the promise of my bills being paid if I only did what he wanted.  My ex, his family, and the church used bible verses to make sure I knew just how much I needed to "submit" to my husband, and how much "God hates divorce".  Let me tell you, God hates abuse.

Verbal abuse:  Yelling, name calling, belittling, putting you down- all is abuse.  Subtly telling you that you are nothing and you will never go anywhere is abuse.

Now what?

So you have identified with so much of what I have just described.  Now what?  Identifying is step one.  There is a description of abuse in which victims are likened to a boiling frog.  If you put a frog into boiling water he is going to jump out right away.  If you put a frog into room temperature water and slowly turn up the heat that frog is going to boil to death.  Why?  It was so gradual.  The frog did not even realize it was dying.  It is the same for us.  We go into a situation with all sorts of histories and backgrounds that make us vulnerable people-pleasers.  We want the dream, and personality disorders promise to deliver!  But they don't.  Slowly we give up ourselves and lose who we are.  Eventually we are surviving, and what seemed horrible before is now normal for us.  It is why we stay so long.

Climbing out

       In my story I went along with my ex, who was in counseling because he wanted to write a book (ha!), and the counselor was publishing one at the time.  After a few sessions, the counselor requested me.  I was hesitant.  After all, I did not want a counselor to tell me it was my fault AGAIN.   One day the dam broke.  I could not bear it anymore.  I cried through two hours of revealing what this monster had been doing to me and my kids.  He ordered my ex out of the room.  He did not want to go.  This was it.  No more control.  My counselor looked at me and said, "It ends today."  Finally, someone standing in the gap for me instead of watching me drown.  So many watched me drown.  That was the Thursday before I left for Columbia.
I have an amazing family.  It was no question where I would land.  In retrospect, I had been preparing for a while.  I had gotten a checking account and a credit card in just my name.  I put my papers in order.  All secretly.  Social security cards, birth certificates, shot records, important documents like tax records all in order.  It was a long climb out.  I had to find a job.  I had to enroll my kids in public school for the first time.  I had to take the blame from teachers for my son's delays.  I had to find a new doctor.  I had to scurry to find an infusion center because I can't go more than 14 days between treatments.  Then came custody battles two states away.  It was the hardest thing I had ever done.  But you know what?  I did it, and so can you.

Preparing

       Be careful!  Abusers are like cornered animals when threatened.  I know someone who's abuser tried to shoot her as she was leaving!  Prepare quietly and carefully if you are leaving under duress.  Planning is key.  Get your financials in order the best you can.  There are resources when you have nothing.  Get your important documents ready to go.  Remember: stuff is stuff.  What is important here?  You are, and your kids are.
Not everyone has parents or relatives willing to take in multiple people. Here are some resources for domestic abuse victims:

National Abuse Hotline: 1-800-799-7233 (SAFE) or live chat via www.thehotline.org

They have folks willing to help you from start to finish, including local shelters or resources.

Try leaving when your abuser is not there.  It is just better to avoid confrontation.  After you leave you may be in shock for a while.  Use Google forums, support groups, and seek counseling when you can.  Self-care is critical here.  Rest, take a bath, take a nap, go for walks.  You will doubt yourself here, please don't.  You did the right thing.  Abusers do not change.  Not permanently.  It will resort back to abuse.  Facebook has tons of abuse support groups.  These were hugely helpful.  Do NOT date or enter relationships of any kind for a while.  Lonely or not, you need to heal.  Healing looks way different and takes way longer than you expect.  The key is TIME.
No contact!  If your abuser is friends with you on social media- unfriend!  Unfollow!  Don't look at it!  Only contact them if you must for communication about the kids.  And by that I mean factual stuff that is necessary.  You do not need to be chatting, talking, or communicating.  This is where abusers lure you back.  You are vulnerable at this stage.  No contact is the best policy.  You need space to heal.  You can not heal a wound that keeps getting smacked open.

Being a warrior

       If you are reading this and you are stuck in abuse, hopeless, not knowing where to go, there is hope.  You are stronger than you could ever imagine.  There are things you can do that will blow you away when you look back.  Your instincts, power, and drive is in there, it has just been beaten down in one way or another.  Reach out, do your research, plan your steps one at a time.  You can do this.  You can leave abuse and refuse to take it any longer.  You are a warrior.

       -Katie Pitzer Thorton

Do you have invisible bruises?

"I am a Senior Teller for South State Bank in Columbia, SC.  I live with my husband Todd and our Brady Bunch of 7 kids, 5 cats, 2 dogs, turtle, and bunny we recently passed on the road!  I have a massive support system of my parents and sister nearby and a mass of great friends.  I manage an ultra rare autoimmune disease on the side.  I also love to speak to people who have survived and endured abuse like I have.  My passion and hope is to encourage others who are suffering."
-Katie Pitzer Thorton

  

Screaming At Trees (Vishuddha)

       Does your chest ever feel so full that you might explode?  I sometimes find that I am full on the inside.  Full of swirling thoughts, anxieties, fears, insecurities, and anger.  These feelings can make it hard to get up and face the day, because it makes everything feel so big.  I'm unsure of myself; how can I face an entire planet full of people?  I followed my crawling toddler through a path in the woods today, and he led me into a clearing surrounded by trees.  The sun fell upon this circular clearing as if it were a spotlight on the stage of the earth.  I sat in the middle of the warm circle and sighed.  I needed to scream.  In fact, we all should have a good scream on the right regular.  The problem is that it feels silly at first.  Where do I go to scream where no one will hear me?  Because if they hear me then they'll look at me funny and then I'll feel stupid.  Who cares?!  Find a place!  Scream into your pillow, go out into the middle of the woods, stand at the edge of the roaring ocean, lock yourself in your car while you're speeding down the highway and just let it out!  A big issue that women face is not even knowing that they don't know how to voice themselves.  We have to find our voices!  Things happen to us and around us and we just keep it quiet like good little girls.  We never make a scene or air out our dirty laundry, just like we were taught.  When people ask us how we're doing we say, "fine," or "great, how about you?".  We don't really mean that shit.  What we actually want is to shout out every single thing that we've ever been upset about from the time we were born.  But we don't, so we struggle with social anxiety, dishonesty, stubbornness, untrustworthiness, verbal aggressiveness, lack of creativity, resentments, and fear of expressing our thoughts.  Maybe they really don't care how you feel, maybe if you speak your opinion they'll react negatively, but you have to get it out!  This week I want every woman to put their hands to their own throat and scream.  Scream loud, scream the way you used to when you were a little kid.  Feel silly?  Do it again!  And again, and again, and again until you feel strong!  Journal your feelings, laugh from your belly and say "thank you!" to the world.  Sing all of your favorite songs LOUDLY and without shame.  Even if no one around you appreciates your voice, I want you to know that I'm proud of you and I think that you're beautiful.  Drink water, imagine that all of your pain is being pushed into a tiny ball and throw that ball into the earth.  Surround yourself with the color blue, practice being assertive, and then spend time in silence.  After you get it all out, every little bit down to your toes, sit in silence and hear your thoughts.  Feel the relief in your body and the exhaustion of your consciousness.  Allow your inner voice to emerge and let it speak lovingly.  Speak your truth openly and freely, honor your own opinion, and allow your muscles to relax as your inner power strengthens you.  Imagine your young self between the ages of seven and twelve.  Whatever happened during this time that may have led you to feel unsafe, unheard, alone, and unimportant...let it go.  Forgive the people who gave you that feeling, and forgive yourself.  Cry when you want to cry, scream when you want to scream, and laugh when you want to laugh.  Give yourself the spiritual embrace that you deserve and be at peace.
What's your voice saying?

"White Woman Syndrome- This Woman's Journey Of Self Discovery" with guest blogger Ellie M. Bateman

       Growing up it was always my perception that I was a "white" child.  Being born in the heart of the nineteen sixties, even a child too young to verbalize it knew that being white spared you from being ridiculed and called unkind names by some of the other children on your block.  Around the time that I entered school I was starting to mimic parental behaviors, and fortunately my parents taught me that I was never to make fun of those different than myself, but rather to offer my friendship.  At this time began the early formation of character.  Fast forward many years; I am now middle-aged.  With both of my parents now passed away I feel compelled to understand my ancestral history all the more.  A generous gift from a wonderful friend allowed me the opportunity to discover the answers at Christmastime.  She purchased me gifts- one using 23andMe and one using Ancestry.  There were known factors, yes, and confirmation of my Native American heritage.  But I discover so much more!  All at once I know that I am of 28% African background, with most of that being from around the area of Kenya, and a trace of Ethiopian.  I am 12% Semitic, of a Spanish-Jewish line, 9% Lenape, and 5% Sioux.  I am not in fact a "white" girl, but rather a woman of many races who happens to be light complected.  What does this mean to me?  It means that along with the shame I carry that some of my European ancestors owned human beings and raped and otherwise tortured them, I also carry pride in the courage of my African ancestors.  It means that I am Jewish according to maternal heritage lines.  It means that I am of Spanish heritage.  Then there is my Native American heritage; such a rich and beautiful culture!  The most important thing it means is this: embrace all of it!  No matter what criticism it gets you from the racists and the bigots, for the women I came from were strong!  Sometimes if I listen in the silence, though you don't hear them, it is as though they whisper, "Find us!  Tell each story!  Because you are us and we are you!"  To every woman I say: take your own journey and find who you are!
       -Leslie Marie (Ellie M.) Bateman
What's your heritage?

   

Photo by Jessica Bigi

"My name is Leslie Marie Bateman, but some friends call me Ellie M. because my first name starts with an "L" and my middle name with an "M".  I like the nickname and invite new friends to use it as well.  My life is busy with budgets and dust rags and dishes.  Ode to joy!  My life is busy with gardening and reading and late night writing.  My children have red hair and tails.  The thing I value most is kindness.  I deeply love kids and animals and nature.  I am much concerned with the safety of women and children.  No one earns my trust if they don't give it as well.  I am a wonderful friend, or so I am told.  My wish for all?  Love and peace.  Go ahead and call me a tail-end baby boomer.  I don't mind, that is exactly what I am."  

-Leslie Marie Bateman AKA Ellie M.

The Masked Mirror

       The time has come for me to draw back the curtain and allow the masses to stare upon the face of a masked woman. Some of my social media followers may be surprised to find that my profile pictures are not actually of "me".  A hooded woman walks a field through my Instagram account while a tattoo'd woman stands guard at my Facebook page.  These women are not "Jain", but they are me, and I am you.  I have made the conscious decision not to openly advertise my face, because it is not what makes me who I am.  How can an Indian woman look upon one picture of a white woman and think, "that is my sister", and how can an Asian woman look upon a figure of an African-American woman and say, "she is my kin"?  THEY SHOULD, but the sad truth is that we are all a little selfish.  We are only human, and we make instantaneous judgments before we truly know the other persons story, the part of them that makes them like us.  I choose to shed my physical form so that I can easily relate to ALL women.  I do not want you to look at me and see white or black, skinny or fat, tall or short, pretty or ugly.  I want you to look at me and see a reflection of yourself.  We are all one woman.  We bring all of our colors and shapes and originality to this safe space.  We will look out upon the crowd of women in this place and smile with pride at the diverse authenticity that is our earth.  We can all bow our heads and allow our tears to mingle into one salty pool because we know that a common evil has ravaged us all.  But we still stand tall with our sisters to help hold us up!  I want to deeply apologize to anyone who feels shocked at learning the familiar form on my profile is not the true semblance of my face.  I know that it is hard to trust in this world, and I understand.  My intent is never to trick or hide, but only ever to empower and make myself human so that we can connect on a deeper level.  I will leave you with this challenge: open your heart.  I challenge you to accept yourself exactly as you are.  I challenge you to love every woman in this community just as they are.  I challenge you to embrace your originality as we nourish your uniqueness.  Only by holding onto what makes us special can we converge into one unit of womankind.  Convergence is defined as the tendency of unrelated animals and plants to evolve similar characteristics under similar environmental conditions.  My hope is that by supporting each other and encouraging each of the women in our community that we can all become of one mind.  We will not see color or body shape, but we will BE ONE.  We will BE REFLECTIONS of more than just the pain that we have all stumbled through, we will be reflections of STRENGTH, PURITY, and LOVE.  WE ARE EVERY WOMAN.  I would like to openly invite every woman to send me a picture of themselves.  I would like to use these photos as my profile picture so that every person who needs validation and gives support has a chance to be featured as a representation of who we are.  I would prefer all pictures to be of you doing something that you love, but with the focus being on something other than your face. We are all human, we are all perfect through our imperfections, and we are all ONE.
Who's in your mirror?

Please send all pictures to jainravensun@gmail.com

The Wise Owl Who Said, "Who?"

       My deep slumber was broken this morning by a voice outside of my window.  It was a familiar voice; one that I have heard a few times before in my life, but the words that she said this time were very different.  She didn't perch in a far off tree exclaiming, "Hoo!".  She stood directly outside of my bedroom window to ask, "Who...who...WHO-WHO?!"  Angry at the intrusion, I held the pillow over my face to drown out her questions, but as the morning went on I knew that I would not forget her query.  Who?  Truly who am I?  Who are you?  What makes us who we are?  I am my fathers daughter, my sisters sister, my husbands wife, my sons mother.  I work at this place and I have these friends.  I shop at that place and eat this food.  But WHO AM I?  Under the physicality of my clothes and my hair style and the side of town that I live on, who am I?  If I'm looking past the existential and the physical, am I the sum of my thoughts?  We are always trying to express our thoughts through words and other means of communication, but maybe that's not who I truly am.  I find that I'm constantly trying to shape my thoughts because I am human and my thoughts are not always true.  Thoughts arise through human nature and emotional responses, but they aren't always real.  There must be something deeper, something at the core, that makes us who we are.  Maybe there is no one particular thing that makes us people.  I believe that a combination of things can form us into the people that we are, but only the "at the core" me can shape myself into something more, something better.  Perhaps you would call that my spiritual self, my higher mind.  The part of me that sees a fellow human struggling and bleeds a little on the inside for their pain.  The part of me that goes beyond empathy and reaches out a hand to help them.  The part of me that speaks kind words and smiles at a homeless person who smells of week-old garbage, because I know that they have feelings too.  The part of me that recognizes the soul in the people that I see rather than the human face that is before me.  Yes, we are multi-dimensional, complex, intricate, a system of thoughts, feelings, past experiences, and knowledge.  But there is a higher self, the real me, my soul consciousness that inspires and guides me with intuition and inspiration. My GOD VOICE, if you will.  It is always connected to me, but I do not always communicate with it.  We must learn to listen to ourselves, but it is imperative that we learn to discern between the fear-based ego voice and the aware higher self voice.  Only then can I become more than human, more than kind, more than wise.  I can take faith and be strong in who I am, because I know that I can be more than Jain.
What does your owl say?

The Intolerance Of A Nation

       All too often I've sat and felt the weight of the world on my shoulders and wondered why there is so much pain.  I have come to the conclusion that it is all because of hate and intolerance and fear.  Why do we hate?  Why do we judge?  Because we are afraid.  We refuse to accept that other people of the world are different than we are because we don't understand them.  We push away people of a different sexual orientation because it's unknown to us.  We think that everyone with a different religion or belief than our own is wrong because we are afraid for our own souls.  In a nation where equality and freedom are supposed to be household staples I find that preachers teach against homosexuality and varying spirituality.  The Catholic believe one story while the Mormon believes another.  The Buddhist trusts in one way of life while the Orthodox practices another.  "Our way is the ONLY right way to eternal life!" they yell at each other, while deep down that belief is only breeding hate and fear.  Why do we need to do this?  I choose to simply accept that every person has their own diverse and individual belief system.  Each person has their own God.  Every single person on earth believes in a God that makes them feel safe and loved and we should not take that away from anyone or tell them that they're wrong.  I would consider myself a Christian because I love the way that Jesus taught.  But Jesus taught the opposite of what a lot of pastors teach.  If you read the Bible carefully enough you will see where Jesus taught differently than even the other apostles and church leaders taught.  But that is MY bible, and if someone else has their own then that's great too!  Come close and I'll tell you a secret...did you know that the traditional tale of Buddha says that he was born in the wilderness while his mother was traveling?  The Queen Maya was visited by four angels in her sleep that told her that she would bear a son who would become the "Enlightened One".  Sound familiar?  Don't be mad!  My point is that the world is so much bigger than we think it is.  There are thoughts that one of the wise men who visited baby Jesus was a Buddhist, or at least a "distinguished foreigner from the East".  There are so many beautiful and peaceful spiritual practices that do no harm: Hinduism, Taosim, Jainism, Judaism, Sikhism, Zoroastrianism, etc. but we can only see as far as our own noses.  But we do that because we are afraid!  We are afraid that we will lose our own place in heaven, our own morality, and our own faith if we don't impose our faith on others while those others are sitting there thinking the same thing about us and our religion.  WE ARE ALL THE SAME.  We are all human, we all believe in something, and we will all someday turn to dust.
What's your belief?

Through The Rain

       I awaken from a deep slumber to the steady rhythm of soft rain pattering across the grass outside of my window.  My muscles beg to be stretched as a yawn escapes my lips and my blurry eyes try to focus on the clock.  The minute hand rests at five 'till, and I roll to turn off my alarm before the dreaded buzzing sound assaults my ears.  My feet shuffle through the carpet towards the bathroom where I splash warm water on my eyes before climbing into the sink to sit and paint my face for the day.  A chill creeps across my arms and down my back and I shiver momentarily as my body adjusts to the morning air.  I fight the urge to crawl back under the warm blankets, knowing that my son will be up soon to get ready for school and the baby will be crying for his "Mah" before long.  After the chaotic morning routine subsides, I enter the kitchen and stand at the window watching the rain fill the yard puddles and the cats run from bush to bush in a desperate attempt to keep their gray and white fur dry.  I am suddenly aware that I am alone, and for once everything seems to be still.  There is no sound aside from the rain, and the only movement is the ripples that undulate away from each water droplet.  I momentarily feel sad, peaceful, thankful, still, quiet, and content.  What is the purpose of the rain?  Of course rainwater is essential for all of life, providing the majority of the fresh water on earth which is needed to sustain many types of ecosystems.  But what is the purpose of the rain?  As I drive away from my home I notice the absolute stillness on the roads around me on the way to work; the drone of the windshield wipers and the splash of the tires making my mind sleepy.  Perhaps the rain falls to help us be still.  Life gets to be such a whirlwind of activity and due dates that we sometimes forget to stand motionless and allow nature to be the moving force around us.  We only notice the little things, the birds bathing and the squirrels chattering, when we aren't occupied with our own selves.  Or perhaps, the rain falls to wash away the dregs that built up while the wind was blowing dirt and the animals were tracking their prey.  Cleansing the earth and cleansing the soul is healthy and much needed.  Sometimes we have to strip down and step out of our dingy skin to see the world anew and feel the refreshing breath of life renewed.  Maybe the rain falls for no other reason than to help us all appreciate the sunshine a little more.   Or maybe the rain is nothing more than music sent from the heavens for the special few who have the ears to hear it and the feet to dance in its glory.

Spotlight! on Sarah Howle -Break The Chain

       I run through the rain with my hands insufficiently covering my hair until I can hop the stone steps that lead to the wooden porch.  A surfboard hangs to my left and the door directly before me leaks soft guitar licks and hair-raising whispers from the cracks.  I turn the doorknob and push with my shoulder to find a young crooner perched in a bench across the room with her legs crossed.  Upon my arrival her voice immediately stops and a smile spreads across her unsure lips as she introduces herself to my drenched face for the first time.  This is Sarah Howle, eighteen year old Virgo and aspiring star from a little country town in South Carolina called Hartsville.  But those are just her bio facts, what I want to see is her soul.  I tell her not to mind my presence as I slink to a bedded corner to eagerly await the ghostly tunes of her breath once more.  Sarah inhales and begins a song, hesitant at first, but then I see her angle her head downwards with her long hair partly covering her face.  This gives her just enough of a shield to remember herself as her eyes close and she begins to feel the words that are magically pouring from somewhere deep in her belly.  I close my own eyes and lay enchanted at the passion that I can clearly hear in her words.  I love that she doesn't try to sing the song exactly the way that Stevie Nicks did; instead she loves the lyrics and makes them her own, in her own key, in her own time, and she just blows me away.  I imagine that if her soul could slip from her body it would take the shape of a cat and howl its pain at the midnight moon.
      Sarah quoted some of the lyrics to me, things like, "slipping into the denseness of my loneliness," and "even if I found you you'd be so cold" and I knew that this young woman was special.  She remembers an agonizing juncture when she was just a little girl.  Both of her parents were drinking too much and little Sarah went through a time when she didn't quite feel safe.  That hidden pain grew into anxiety and depression that can only be relieved by crying her torment through the words that she sings.  Still hesitant of herself, she closes her eyes and imagines that she is standing alone in a wide open field at 2:15 in the morning.  There is no one around and the air has a chill that clings to her skin.  Within this fictional safe haven she is able to open her soul and pour her beautiful voice out for all to drink in.  Sarah was originally inspired by her maternal grandmother who used to sing gospel tunes on the television.  Her brothers were also catalysts on the road to finding her voice.  Sarah's older brother is a piano man who encourages her through his wisdom, and her younger brother heartens her with his pure soul.  "He was a blessing in disguise," she says of her three year old brother, Charlie.  "He was a surprise child and I realized that it wasn't just all about me.  He makes me want to do good and make the world a better place for him." 
       I had the most amazing time with this passionate young lady today.  Putting Sarah's physical merit aside, she is unmistakably beautiful through her intuition, loving passion, and ambitious strength.  She uses the only instrument that she can play to soothe and condition the hurt in her soul.  Her voice is a tool that she can carry with her wherever she goes and escape into its safe place, whether she's surrounded by hundreds of people or laying alone in her dark and soundless room with her mind wandering to the wide corners of her needs, desires, and dreams.
What's your escape?

Ergo Ego

       The strangest thing happened to me yesterday.  Someone told me, "No"!  I asked this person for their help with a project that I thought would greatly benefit us both, and she flat out told me no.  No explanation, no reason; she didn't even hear the whole proposal!  Of course my first reaction was to try to convince her as to why she SHOULD want to do what I wanted her to do, and then I spent the afternoon re-reading my text messages to her and trying to figure out what I had said to make her not want to help.  My head ran wild for hours, "She doesn't like me.  She's a bitch.  She doesn't know what she's missing.  What did I do wrong?  WHY didn't she think my idea was wonderful?"  I had been on a high of yeses, but as soon as I heard the word no for the first time that week my entire day just fell apart.  I began to doubt everything that I was doing and wondered if I just really sucked in general but people were afraid to tell me so.  Later that afternoon I sat outside as the sun went down and just let the whole range of emotions wash over my brain.  I let myself feel angry, I allowed the rejection to hurt me a little, and then I suddenly realized what was REALLY wrong.  My EGO was injured!  You know what?  She is allowed to say no.  We are all allowed to say no.  She owes me nothing in order for her to refuse me, and I commend her honesty.
       The problem is that I'M the one who is afraid to say no.  From the time we are born we are told what to do and where to go and what to think, to the point where its almost like our own opinions and thoughts and wants aren't considered just because we're little.  As we grow, if our ideas aren't encouraged or validated, we learn to simply obey orders and if we don't want to do something then we feel guilty about it.  I think this is amplified greatly in abuse victims, sexually abused or otherwise, because there is a power there that was snatched away.  Someone along the line showed us that our opinions didn't matter.  Someone once revealed to us that our no's didn't really have any meaning or value.  And when our no's no longer have meaning then we lose a power within ourselves.  Long, long ago I lost that power, and I've been trying to find it again with every part of my beating little heart.  I'm going to practice saying no today.  And tomorrow.  And the day after that.  If there is something that I am uncomfortable with or simply don't want to do then I'M NOT GOING TO DO IT!  Isn't that a free feeling?  I won't allow myself to feel guilty for standing up for my wants and desires.  If I don't voice them then no one will ever know!  If I don't reclaim my power then who will that authority belong to?  I am my own person.  I have ideas, good ideas.  I will not feel small for having them, and I will not make other women feel small for having their own.  We are all of the same sex and we must stand up for each other.  Girl, say no!  Say it loud!  YOU DON'T NEED A REASON.
What's your ego saying?

Inspire A Revolution

       By now most of us have heard of Amy Bleuel, the woman who inspired the Project Semicolon.  For those of you who don't know what that is, let me blow your mind for a moment.  Amy Bleuel was a young woman who was physically abused by her step-mother beginning at the age of six, sexually abused at the age of ten, raped at the age of thirteen, endured the loss of her father to suicide at the age of eighteen, was raped twice more in college, and then suffered from alcoholism and five major suicide attempts.  That woman endured more in ten years than any person should ever have to go through.  And what did she do with her pain?  She inspired a revolution.  Amy founded a non-profit mental health and anti-suicide organization in 2013.  Amy hoped that her organization would present "hope and love to those who are struggling with depression, suicide, addiction, and self-injury" by encouraging the tattoo semicolon symbol to raise awareness and show support.  Selena Gomez jumped on board after she helped to produce the Netflix series "Thirteen Reasons Why", as did two of the actors from the show.  A book was later published by HarperCollins entitled "Project Semicolon: Your Story Isn't Over" in 2017 which is available practically everywhere now.  This was more than just a fad, it was hope.
       In literature, the semicolon is used when the writer could choose to end the sentence, but instead the author chooses to keep going.  That is what Amy Bleuel did with her life until March 23 of 2017.  The coroner ruled Ms. Bleuel's death as a suicide which left a bitter taste in my mouth.  As we mourn the one year anniversary of this amazing woman's death I ask myself, "How could she?"  She was changing lives!  People all over the world looked to her for support when they had suicidal thoughts or needed emotional help to get through the grief of a loved ones suicide.  How could she?  I begin to feel angry when I think about what she did, but I know that deep down I'm only angry because I feel the hurt.  Suicide saddens me beyond what I can describe.  It is the very moment when a person who has been suffering inconsolably for so long, while everyone else around them lives their life normally, snaps their fingers and flips it around.  Now, the person who was suffering is no longer in pain, and all the people around them who had been living normally are suddenly suffering instead.  I want to be mad and tell those people that they were selfish in the worst way, but who am I to make such a heavy judgement?  Who am I to pretend to know someones deepest pain?  How could I possibly know what it's like to wake up and feel so much hurt that I couldn't get out of bed?  To hate myself so much that no amount of encouragement could calm my mind?  So, instead of hate, I will choose to spread love.  Good for you Amy!  You endured the worst that this world had to offer.  You didn't become a serial killer, or the unabomber, or a terrorist.  You inspired the people around you to live their best life and get help.  I'm proud of you.  I support your decision. And I wish that there had been more help for you, you who helped so many others.  Today I would like to take two moments of silence.  The first as a remembrance for an innocent little girl who was lost to the madness of hate and corruption.  The second moment of silence will be for you.  The you who is reading this right now.  You are still here.  You can still make a difference.  You can inspire a revolution.
What's your revolution project?
https://projectsemicolon.com/

Why I'm Never Enough

       Who would I be without that thought?  Could I be happy?  Could I be at peace?  I lay in the sunshine while the baby naps.  I have nothing that needs to be done at that moment, nowhere to be.  The dogs play while the cats roam the yard.  Birds splash in puddles of water and ants crawl from dirt grain to blade of grass.  I look down at my basking body and think to myself, "My thighs are getting fat.  I gained two pounds this week.  My stretch marks look very blue today, I wonder if they'll ever fade.  I need to shave and my hair is getting oily."  My thoughts cause my eyes to wander further up my body as I begin to critique the form of my tummy and the size of my breasts.  My chest tightens as tears well up behind my lashes.  I look to my husband across the yard, who has been peacefully raking dog poop with no complaint, and ask him if he'll always love me.  He looks up, surprised at my random question, and answers, "I hope so."  That was not the exact answer that I thought I needed at that moment, but I listened as he went on.  "You're my best friend, I hope we always have each other."  Suddenly, I realized:  I'm not good enough.  I'M NOT GOOD ENOUGH BECAUSE I DON'T LET MYSELF BE.  My husband obviously wanted me more than any other woman on earth because he married ME.  I allow myself to become jealous of other women because I think that, in some way, they must be better than me.  But they're not!  We are ALL made special and unique and beautiful!  I sometimes resent the girl who can sing so beautifully while people praise her talent.  But my baby adores when I sing him his lullabies, and he has never looked up from his crib and said, "Meh.  I think I'd like that other lady to come sing."  He only wants ME.  Life suddenly becomes light when I stop thinking about all of the things that I'm not and simply allow myself to be who I AM.  The people who truly love me don't ever look at me and see knobby knees and long toes.  Those may be some of my physical features, but people who love me look at me and just see ME.  I am more than the sum of my parts.  All of my imperfections make me absolutely perfect!  I AM beautiful.  I AM enough!  I AM powerful!  I will chant that mantra over and over, louder and louder, until I feel brave and big enough to step out and face my day.  Because the ONLY one who actually knows me and still thinks that I'm not good enough is ME.
What's holding you back?