Fire Season - My Journey from Ruin to Redemption

As many of you know, in November of 1994, our house burned down. After my husband Troy and I jumped out second story windows with nothing but our pajamas and our kid, our lives began a downward spiral of loss that would continue for four years, leading us into a deep depression and the brink of divorce. We lost three homes in 2 years, lost our cars, lost our friends, I lost my national business, we were bankrupted and we almost lost each other. But we survived. In 1999 we bought our house, things got better and were actually pretty great until 2010.

And then, in 2010, it seemed the cycle was beginning again. We were sued over a little dog named Stitch that we adopted. A three-year court battle followed. We had to get a restraining order against a violent neighbor with a criminal record for assault with a gun, who threatened my husband’s life. My husband’s boss, and great friend, Greg, dropped dead of a heart attack. Our dog Brandy died. Our septic system failed and flooded the yard, leading to a 10,000 repair job and an invasion of flies, not unlike the Amityville Horror (except they had better plumbing). We were busted flat broke from home repairs and court costs. And then, our daughter-in-law took our one-year-old grandson to Japan for a visit... and didn’t return. We thought we’d never see them again. We were overcome with grief.

During this time, I took an eight-week writing course with my friend Amy Friedman, where I wrote and shared, for the first time, the story of our fire. I was shaking so bad I couldn’t read the essay in the group, so Amy read it for me. After class, Amy and I went out for coffee and I confessed to her something I had been secretly fearing in my head. I told her, “My life is spinning wildly out of control, and I am terrified that I am in the beginning of a life pattern where I’m going to repeat another four years of hell.” And this is basically what she said. “You are still afraid of what happened to you, because you didn’t get the lesson in it. If you don’t write your way through this, you’re going to repeat the pattern. This fire story is not an essay. This is a book you need to write.” And only out of sheer terror and because I am slightly superstitious did I begin to write this book.

Four years later, Fire Season is about to be published with She Writes Press this spring (and you can pre-order it now for a discount on Amazon).

What I learned in writing my book was that I am stronger than I knew. That every time I let fear control my life, everything fell to shit. I saw, through my writing process, as I mapped out and wrote those years down, that it wasn’t until I chose love over fear that my life began to turn around. Through these past four years of intense challenges that began again in 2010, I learned to choose love over fear, and instead of losing everything, like we did in 1994, this time the outcome was very different.

After a year of praying and sending nothing but love to our daughter-in-law in Japan, many miracles lined up to bring our grandson home, and he now lives with his mother in L.A. After our three-year court battle, we still have our dog Stitch. The violent, criminal neighbors were evicted (the day after Christmas – best Christmas gift ever). We still have our home 15 years later and the new septic system works perfectly. This time, we didn’t lose everything. This time, yes, life knocked us on our asses – but we got back up faster. This time, when it seemed everything was falling apart, Troy and I turned toward each other in our grief and sadness (love), and not against each other (fear).

So, like Amy Friedman advised, I wrote my way through these four years, and now, after a summer from hell, I hope to God I’m coming out the other side. It’s not that I don’t have my challenges still. We’ve got a building inspector trying to wreak havoc with our house, and some trouble with termites…but I know better now than to let fear get the best of me.

Back in 1995, when I was spiraling down, I felt so alone, like there wasn’t a single person who got what I was going through. Books were what saved me. Books about hope, about endurance, about surviving. I wrote Fire Season because I don’t want anyone to feel alone like I did. I want to share my experience of finding hope on the other side of darkness.

I know that you, like me, have endured some difficult losses and challenges. I hope you’ll share your stories in the comments below…

The Shero's Journey: Women Risen from the Ashes

If you are familiar with author Joseph Campbell’s work around the “Hero’s Journey,” perhaps you’ve recognized the patterns in your own life. Campbell said that numerous myths from the ages share this fundamental pattern:

    “A hero ventures forth from the world of common day into a region of supernatural wonder: fabulous forces are there encountered and a decisive victory is won: the hero comes back from this mysterious adventure with the power to bestow boons on his fellow man.” – Joseph Campbell, from The Hero with a Thousand Faces

In our everyday lives, it looks more like this: You’re plodding along, following the societal norms. You set up a nice average life, make sure you have all the proper insurance policies and WHAM - life smacks you upside the head with either tragedy or slow quiet suffocation, and you are faced with a darkness that threatens to take you down. Campbell said the lives of Buddha, Moses, and Christ followed this basic pattern, as do many other stories from around the world. You can even find the mythic Hero’s Journey in Star Wars. (Remember when Luke faces his nemesis in the cave?) The Hero’s journey crosses countries, cultures and religions, but what’s missing from this narrative are women’s stories. Recently on Super Soul Sunday, Elizabeth Gilbert (author of Eat, Pray, Love) talked with Oprah about this very issue, saying how important it is that women rise up and tell their own stories.

Playwright, educator and speaker Lyena Strelkoff, always thinking ahead of the curve, had already been long at work on this issue. This year, Lyena had been gathering women’s stories she dubbed The Shero Summit, and has put them together in a free telesummit that anyone can join. Seven women tell their stories of transformation, finding medicine in the poison life has dealt them. I am proud and honored to be one of those seven women, and will be sharing the story from my new memoir Fire Season: My Journey from Ruin to Redemption.

The Shero Summit is a collection of real life stories, lived by women challenged by circumstance to lay down or rise. Funny, heartbreaking, inspiring, uplifting…. These shero stories shine powerful light into the journey of human transformation and, in so doing, light the way for you no matter what stage of the journey you’re on.

Because Lyena wanted this journey to be available to every woman (and man), it is a free telesummit.

I so hope you will join me, Lyena and the other brave women who have so courageously shared the good the bad and the ugly of their journeys. I know you will find pieces of yourself in each woman, and am sure you will walk away lifted and inspired.

7 women, risen from the ashes! Click here to register for your week of free video interviews: http://sherosummit.com/

 

Elevate

When I got fired from my job in June, it pretty much knocked me flat. Not only had this been a job, it had been a calling. Add to that the betrayal by people I'd thought were my friends.

My true friends rushed in to lift me, like emotional EMTs.

Amy said, “You haven’t lost anything. I know you will find the medicine in this poison.”

Dani said, "You’ll get through this, and I will help you.”

Erin said, “Fuck them. I’ll be right over with wine and take-out,” which at the time were my favorite words.

My facebook inbox lit up like a Christmas tree as my friends across the country got wind of the news. They said, “We love you. We’ve got your back. Nothing can erase all the good work you did.”

A few days later I talked with my friend Julie, and she said, “They haven’t knocked you down. They have elevated you.”

“Elevated me? How?”

“Because I know you. You will find the good in it. You’ll write about it, and you’ll share your story with others. In the end you will be stronger because of it. You will rise above this, and that’s how they have elevated you.”

Of course, I hadn’t thought of it like that.

Author and spiritual teacher Marianne Williamson says that when someone deflects a miracle from you, when they block goodness that is meant for you, the Universe will hold the miracle in trust, and will find another way to make sure you receive it. It may come from another person or a different job, or another door will open that you never knew existed.

In other words, when someone tries to knock you down, you should really thank them for teaching you courage and strength, and also for teaching you who you don’t want to be, because in the meantime, all the good things that are your due are still on their way.

No one can really ever take anything from you. It’s up to each of us to lay down in defeat, or to elevate.

I choose to elevate.

Tammey

 

Tammey and I, talking about life.

My cousin Tammey and I were born just months apart and grew up together like Irish twins. Our mothers are sisters. Sometimes, she and my cousin Tracey lived at my house. When my mom’s life was falling apart, we lived at their house.

In our families, there was chaos swirling around us, but we clung to one another for stability. Tammey was only nine months older than me but she always treated me like her baby. She was protective of me. When we were four-years-old and there was violence in my home, we held hands and hid in the closet together. When we were eleven years old, she saved me from drowning in the ocean. In our teens, she taught me how to stand up for myself in a fight. She taught me how to hold my liquor, and what to do when I got my period. 

In our early twenties, Tammey and I both had daughters. Just like us, our girls were nine months apart. Tammey's daughter, of course, was older. Tammey was sweet-natured and generous, but being the tender heart that she was, she wasn't able to heal those wounds from our childhoods. Not that she didn't try. She really, really tried.

Our sweet Tammey was found dead in a hotel room on Saturday night. We don’t have the autopsy results back yet.

I honestly don’t know how life goes on without her. She was such a huge part of my growing up, and is such a huge part of who I am. I told Troy I feel like I've lost a limb. I can hardly put one foot in front of the other.

My first memoir is filled with stories about her. They are all I have left. 

When my friend Phyllis was dying, I asked if she believed in an afterlife. She said she believed people lived on after death in the stories you told about them.

If that is true, I will tell my stories about Tammey.

This is one…

Summer, 1975

It’s a perfect summer day at Malibu beach with just enough breeze to keep you from sweating.  Tammey, Tracey and I unpack the cooler and set out chips and sandwiches while mom puts a t-shirt on Christopher, who’s running around like the Tasmanian devil. We smooth out our towels and lay on our bellies to eat our sandwiches. Tracey has to make an indent in the sand with her elbows because she’s getting boobs now. Me and Tammey don’t have those yet so we can lay flat and comfortable. I’m so glad to be back with my cousins again.

Mom finally brought me home from Aunt Laura’s. I lived there for the whole fifth grade. We got our house back from those renters, but they trashed it. The carpet is all ripped up, the pool is a green swampy mess again.

Mom lays in a beach chair reading a magazine. Tracey sets up her portable AM radio and spins the dial until she finds a song we all like. Band on the run blasts from the little speaker. Tracey sings along, and I do the harmony part.

Christopher runs around kicking sand in everyone’s faces.

“Stop it, hyper!” I yell at him.

“Oh, he’s just having fun. Leave him alone,”  Mom says.

“But he’s getting sand in my sandwich!” I protest.

“Why do you think they call it a SAND- wich...ha ha ha,” Mom says.

I roll my eyes, “Oh brother. Don’t be such a dildo, Mom.”

Tracey’s eyes go wide, she spits out her soda and starts cracking up. Tammey is laughing too.

“What did you say?” Mom hisses, squinting her eyes at me.

I look at her, then at Tracey and Tammey who are hysterical.

“What? What did I say?”

Her look softens a little. She leans in closer to me.

“Do you know what that word means?”

“What word…. dildo?” and there go my cousins, cracking up again, even harder this time.

“Stop saying that!” she says in a hushed whisper, and looks around at the people next to us to see if they heard. “What do you think that word means?” she asks.

“I don’t know….. does it mean…silly?” I say, starting to feel kind of stupid as my cousins howl and roll back and forth on their beach towels.

Mom puts her hand over her eyes, then looks up at me.

“C’mere” she wiggles her finger toward her. I crawl over. She leans toward me and cups her hand against my ear. “It means….. It means….. artificial penis.” she whispers.

I back away from her. “Ewwww! Gross!”

My cousins are laughing so hard they have tears running down their cheeks. Even though I feel completely stupid, I have to admit it is pretty funny, and we all have a good laugh except for Christopher who keeps asking, over and over, “What tho funny, what tho funny?”

We finish our sandwiches and get up to throw our trash away. The sand is hot under our feet and the breeze has died down.

“Did your mom tell you what dildo means?” Tracey asks me as we walk back from the trash cans.

“Yeah, it’s an artificial penis, whatever that is.”

“No, it’s not.” Tracey says, “It’s a fake dick.”

Tammey cracks up, “You said dick!”

She grabs my hand, “I’m hot. Let’s go in the water!”

Tracey, Tammey and I race toward the water and dive straight in so you don’t feel that first shock of the cold. This is a perfect day. Me and my cousins, body surfing in the ocean. We ride in wave after wave to the shore, then turn around and jump right back in. Tracey gets out after about twenty minutes to work on her tan, but Tammey and I stay in until our hands are pruny and our faces are beet-red sunburned.

“Let’s swim out past the waves so we can rest for a minute,” Tammey says.

We swim out further where we can tread water, up and down over the swells, the sun glinting off our faces. We’ve been in the water so long our teeth are starting to chatter, and we’re getting all giggly.

“I can’t believe you called your mom a dildo!” Tammey laughs.

“I know!” I start to laugh too. The more I think about it, the funnier it gets. Even though I didn’t know what it meant, I’m kinda glad I called her that. She didn’t care when I wanted to kill myself, she sent me away and kept Christopher, she ruined everything with Dad. I laugh harder.

“And I got away with it!” I can’t stop laughing. And it’s just me and Tammey, laughing and floating out in the middle of the ocean, like two little corks bobbing on the water. The sun on our faces, laughing together. It feels perfect and happy and safe.

Tammey imitates me in a dumb voice, “Mom don’t be such a dildo”, and the waves of laughter start up again.

I’m laughing so hard now I can hardly breathe, but I can’t stop. The laugh is coming from somewhere deep inside me like it has power of its own.  I start to feel weak. That giggly, dizzy carnival ride feeling…the buzzing in my head. I try to tread water, but my head goes under. A huge gulp of salt water floods my mouth and goes up my nose. It burns. I sputter and laugh and choke all at once.

Tammey sees me go under and stops laughing. But I can’t.

“Are you okay?” she shouts with a worried frown.

I keep laughing and choking. Another swell pulls me under, and then another. I hardly have the strength to pull my head above water now. Salt water burns my nose, throat and eyes. Tammey screams my name as I go under again. I can hear her through the water, all swimmy and gurgly. My arms and legs feel like they’re made of rubber. Tammey grabs my arm and pulls me up.

“Hold on to me!” she shouts, and puts my arm around her shoulder. I lean against her back, choking and coughing. I look toward the lifeguard tower but they’re talking to some girls and not looking our way.

Tammey swims strong over the waves, pulling me with her. I’m not laughing anymore. My head goes under but she yanks me up.

She swims to where the waves break, and shouts, “DIVE!” I see a huge ten-foot wave towering over us. Oh god, Oh god.

“Hold your breath!” She grips my hand tight. The last thing I see is a huge wall of water, then Tammey is gone.

I’m tossed around like a rag doll in a blender, sand in my ears and eyes, rocks and shells hitting my skin.  The rip tide is a magnet pulling my body out to sea. Another wave sucks me up and spits me out. The current pushes me, my belly scraping along the rocky shore until I don’t know where I am. When I open my eyes I’m laying face down in the wet sand. Tammey lands about twenty feet away from me. She jumps up and runs toward me. I hear her shouting my name but I can’t answer. She kneels beside me. I’m breathing so hard the air burns my lungs like a fire. I look up at her, too weak too move. She is all sparkly-wet, sun-bleached white hair, tan lean arms and sunburned face. Everyone always said how fragile Tammey was because she was only two pounds when she was born. She was so little and skinny, and the grown-ups said we had to be careful with her, but the truth is she’s always been stronger than me.

“Take my hand” she says.

Two lifeguards run toward us with their orange float things.

“Hold on! We’re coming!” they shout.

Tammey looks their way and puts her hand up as if to let them know she’s got it all under control. They slow down their pace as they see Tammey pull me to my feet.

“Hey, is she okay? Do you guys need help?” One of them shouts as he gets closer.

Tammey wraps my arm around her shoulder.

“Not anymore” she says, “I’ve got her.” She holds me tighter.

“You sure you’re okay, little girl?” one of them asks me. I bend over with my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. I nod my head, huffing and puffing.

“Good job, kid,” The lifeguard says to Tammey. The lifeguards wave to us as they turn and head back to their girl-watching at the tower.

Tammey rolls her eyes at him. “What a dork.”

She walks me back to our towels, where Mom and Tracey are sleeping and Christopher’s making a sandcastle. I feel a lump in my throat but I won’t cry. Not in front of Tammey.

Tammey looks back over her shoulder at the waves that are coming in huge and really crazy this late in the day. She squeezes me tighter with her lean strong arms.

“We made it”, she says.

The 5 Things I Gained From Losing Everything...

(This story was posted on "Maria Shriver's Architects of Change."  It is excerpted from my new memoir "Fire Season: Losing Everything and Finding Myself." With deep gratitude...)

On the morning of November 18th, 1994, my family seemingly had it all: a strong marriage, two kids and a gaggle of rescue pets. My husband Troy and I each had our own businesses that we ran from the home we were renting. We volunteered at our kids’ schools, threw parties, took business trips — it was a great life.

But that night, we went to bed in a burning house. A freak electrical short began smoldering in the walls as we slept, erupting into hellfire in the middle of the night. The fire pressed us up against the windows, gasping for air, our skin burning. We were forced to jump from second story ledges with our children, onto the cement below. The inferno raged, windows blowing out, as the life we had built vanished before our eyes....(read the rest HERE on Maria Shriver's website)


Watch an excerpt of my live interview on AOL.com:

Also on "Maria Shriver's Architects of Change", read Amy Ferris and my co-authored piece "Letting Go of Shame, Thelma and Louise Style"

Reclaiming Joy III: Gratitude

“A miracle is a shift in perception.” – Marianne Williamson

In my last post, I talked about the scientific fact that nature abhors a vacuum, and that when you release negative energy from your life, something else will rush in to fill that space. And wow oh wow has that proven to be true in my life.

After my negativity fast, I made gratitude the centerpiece of my "reclaiming joy" experiment. At night, I journal about the moments I was grateful for that day. As a result, what happens is I am always looking for things to record - and that in itself brings me into the present moment. There are so many tiny moments that I would have missed if I was caught up in my head, only focused on my problems - like the kids playing and laughing together, a rare bird on my deck, a smile from a stranger. Suddenly the world seems full of things to be grateful for simply because I am awake. I am feeling a shift inside. Marianne Williamson would call that a miracle.

But an even deeper proof was yet to come.

With this new, lighter, positive heart, I believe a space was created for the Universe to meet me where I am. And here’s what happened:

Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth … that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too.

-W.H. Murray

Sunday, as I was getting ready to perform at the Veteran’s hospital (another way to immediately feel happy- do something kind for someone else) I got a random email. This woman said she was a segment producer for Huffington Post Live, and she had read my blog and wanted to know if I would be on the show the next day. What?

I called and asked how she found me. She said, “We are doing a show on the nature of suffering, and Nancy (the host) asked me to find someone who had lost everything and was still grateful. So I googled, “How I Lost Everything and Why I’m Grateful” and there you were.” I was floored. She googled the EXACT title of the blog I’d posted on the anniversary of my fire last year. Coincidence? Or Providence?

The next day, a little online interview that I thought three people would see, got picked up by AOL’s Top Stories, breathing life into this book (Wind To Wildfire) I’ve been trying to midwife into the world for over a year now. 

If this isn’t evidence that this reclaiming joy stuff is working, I don’t know what is.

The Path to Gratitude

There have been times in my life where I have been so low, I could not think of a single thing to be grateful for. But now, when I sink to that dark place, this is a little game I play with myself. I call it the Castaway Game.

I pick up my pen and paper, then imagine myself stranded on a desert island with no food, and nothing but a volleyball named Wilson to love. And then I start to write all the things I would pine for. Suddenly, every person in my life, every circumstance, becomes a blessing. Even the garbage truck with his noisy clanging while I’m meditating, the annoying dog that barks all day- even those things. Suddenly I become aware of the great cup of coffee I’m drinking and the fresh fruit on my table and I feel so damn lucky.

So if you’re ever feeling down on your luck, try this game. Put yourself on that island with Wilson and let the words fly.  And then... see if the shift in perception becomes your very own miracle. 

Here is a short excerpt from the Huffington Post Live interview, where I talk about what I learned from losing everything. 

 

You are Rich- and Here's Why

 

After sending out over 200 resumes and getting no response, in a moment of quiet desperation, a young woman named Vicki Harrison ended her life. I was devastated to read about this poor girl's tragic end, and yet, I could empathize. I too have been sending resumes out for three years, and have not gotten one response. I’ve owned a national company, have run 2 nonprofits, spent ten years teaching arts workshops, published a book, and yet, I can’t get a job. My husband’s income alone is supporting our family of five. Insurance is nearly capsizing us (health, car, homeowners, fire, flood, life). There are many days I feel overwhelmed and hopeless.

But what I remind myself every day, and wish I could have told young Vicki, is that in comparison to the rest of the world, we are incredibly wealthy and blessed. It's only our perspective that is lacking.

Living in America or any westernized country, its easy to get caught up in that keeping-up-with-the-Joneses thing. We are blasted with advertising every second of the day, subtly persuaded to believe that we are not enough without that car, that flat screen TV, that newest model of iPhone/computer/iPad, anti-aging-anti-cellulite-anti-everything cream…You're not enough, not enough, not enough. You don't have enough: food, things, money...

Here’s the thing. All of this is an illusion. Step out of westernized thinking and culture for a minute, and consider the way the rest of the world lives. Here's why you and I are some of the richest people in the world:

Do you own a car? If so, consider yourself one of the elite. Less than 9% of the world owns a car.

Do you own a computer? Have internet access? Only 22% of world population has access to the internet, and many of those do not personally own a computer.

Do you have running water? More than one billion people globally lack access to safe drinking water.

Let’s bring it back to just America:

Do you make $33,000 or more annually? If so, you are in the top 50% of wage earners in the United States. According to the Census Bureau, the median income for an American family of three is a total 52K.

14% of Americans are living below poverty level- an income of less than $22,000 for a family of four. (Globally,  2.8 billion people survive on less than $2 a day)

So take heart, and count your blessings. Yes, we’re in a recession. Yes, it is really, really hard to find a job. And yes, many of us are making less now that we did in previous years. But in the eyes of most people in this world, we are rich beyond their wildest imaginings. 

Any of these people would love to trade places with us.

A perspective of lack and hopelessness ended Vicki Harrison's life. She had enough to live on, and family and friends to support her. Eventually, she would have found a job -- in fact, it could have been resume #201.

For more perspective, here's a great article:

Why You're Not Actually Poor

and: WorldWatch.org

Navigating Disaster

It's election time, everybody, and you know what that means. The politicians and media are going to pump you full of fear;  Unemployment is soaring, Facebook stock just dropped by half. The pundits are screaming and yelling, people are losing their jobs and homes. Everyone is throwing the blame, but no one knows what to do. Forget red states and blue states, a state of fear is the worst state to live in. Decisions made from a place of fear are always the wrong ones. So let’s pull ourselves together, shall we?

First, let me assure you of this fact: All will be well.

How do I know?  I consider myself a connoisseur of disaster. I’ve been trapped in a burning house, bankrupted, abandoned by my family, betrayed, destitute, mugged, sued, threatened with violence, homeless. (And don’t even get me started on my childhood!) But guess what?  I’m happy.

I’ve had a lot of therapy over the years to get me through the panic attacks that used to plague me, and these are the tools I’ve learned for navigating disaster.

ACCEPT WHAT IS:

This world has existed for billions of years. All kinds of catastrophes have occurred and yet – the world still turns. The talking heads called JFK a socialist and communist and said he was destroying America, and guess what? We're still here. Yes, life will change and evolve.  Everything is impermanent - the bad phases, and even the good. The more we try to clutch onto something to keep it the way it was, the more pain we cause ourselves. Accepting life as it is will bring you peace. 

FIND YOUR FLOW:
Think of it this way: Life is a river, ever flowing, ever changing, a force all its own. You never step into the same river twice, and so it is with life. We can’t control the river, but we can learn how to navigate it. We can be dragged through it kicking and screaming, or follow the flow. Whatever is happening to cause you stress, remember: the tide will rise and fall, the sun will continue to rise every day, new life will spring up from devastation- that is the way of the world. Find your flow, and when it changes, find it again. 

STAY IN THE PRESENT:

Wayne Dyer said that if we stay in the present, 99% of the time, there is no problem. I mean, unless you are in this moment hanging from a cliff by your fingernails, which is unlikely. Most of our problems are in our heads, where we either lament about the past, or worry about what may possibly happen in the future. The majority of the time the things we worry about never come to pass. If we could stay in the right here, right now, we’d realize we are okay. Ask yourself this, right now at this very moment, are you in danger? If not, feel free to relax, and enjoy your day.

FOCUS ON THE GOOD:

The world is a place full of beauty and art and music and nature and heart-stopping wonder, and it’s all available to you. So how bad could it be?  Step out of fear, and make a list of the good things in your life. If you can’t see the good, spend a day volunteering on Skid Row, serving the homeless. That’ll put things in perspective. Or try playing this game:  If I were alone on a desert island, what are all the things I would miss?  Write it down. You’ll realize just how much you have to be thankful for.

DO WHAT BRINGS YOU JOY:

No matter what is happening in the stock market, in politics, at your job, don’t let it rob you of JOY. Find what brings you happiness, even the little things, and do that. If you can afford a spa day, go for it, but joy doesn’t cost money. Take a bubble bath with candles, take a long walk in a beautiful place, sit under a tree and read an inspiring book, buy yourself a 64-pack of brand new Crayolas- lay on the floor and color, play your all-time favorite album, go to the beach. Even little things can bring great joy.

GET OUT OF DODGE:

If you can possibly afford it, get out of town for a few days. Albert Einstein said, “You can not solve a problem with the same mind that created it.”   I know personally that I need to get out of my every day routine and environment to look at things differently. If I can’t get away, even a day of walking on the beach can bring that perspective.

And finally, if you still can’t get out of your place of fear, try this…

WHAT’S THE WORST THAT COULD HAPPEN?

After our house burned down, I had anxiety attacks. My therapist used to play this game with me:

He’d say, “Okay, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“I will lose everything, be penniless and homeless and have no credit.” (All of which did eventually happen, by the way)

“And then what?” he’d say.

“I guess I’ll…have to find a good job, and find a place to live.”

“And then what?”

“Well, I guess little by little…I’ll pay off my debt.”

“And then what?”

“I guess I’ll be okay.”

( I was, and I am.)

Play this game with a friend, with every possible worst-case scenario, and keep going until you’ve sorted it all out. The reality is never as bad as you make it out in your head.

Look at the people of Japan. After the tsunami and earthquake, they were out there in the trenches with shovels, starting at square one, rebuilding their lives. The world is resilient, and so are we. Leave fear behind. Embrace your life.

And finally, I’ll leave you with this quote:

“Everything will be okay in the end. If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.”

-author unknown


Have a wonderful weekend, everyone. As for me- I'm getting out of Dodge!

Navigating Disaster

photo by Laura Hennessee

Everyone in the country is in a panic. The stock market is tanking, the pundits are screaming and yelling, people are losing their jobs and homes. Everyone is throwing the blame, but no one knows what to do. And so we, the public, are living in a state of fear – the worst state to ever be in. Decisions made from a place of fear are always the wrong ones. So let’s pull ourselves together, shall we?

First, let me assure you of this fact: All will be well.

How do I know? Well, I consider myself sort of a connoisseur of disaster. I’ve been trapped in a burning house, almost killed, bankrupted, abandoned by my family, betrayed by friends, lost everything, destitute, mugged, sued, threatened with violence, homeless. (And don’t even get me started on my childhood!) But guess what?  I’m still here.

I’ve had a lot of therapy over the years to get me through the panic attacks that used to plague me, and these are the tools I’ve learned for navigating disaster.

ACCEPT WHAT IS:

This world has existed for billions of years. All kinds of catastrophes have occurred and yet – the world still turns. The only thing we can be sure of in life is change. Everything is impermanent - the bad phases, and even the good. The more we try to clutch onto something to keep it the way it was, the more pain we cause ourselves.

Think of it this way: Life is a river, ever flowing, ever changing, a force all its own. You never step into the same river twice, and so it is with life. We can’t control the river, but we can learn how to navigate it. We can be dragged through it kicking and screaming, or accept it for what it is and follow the flow. Whatever is happening to cause you stress, remember: the tide will rise and fall, the sun will continue to rise every day, new life will spring up from devastation- that is the way of the world. Find your flow, and when it changes, find it again. Accept change. Accept it all for what it is.

STAY IN THE PRESENT:

I’ve seen Wayne Dyer speak several times. I remember being especially struck by this point. He said that if we stay in the present, 99% of the time, there is no problem. I mean, unless you are in this moment hanging from a cliff by your fingernails, which is unlikely. Most of our problems are in our heads, where we either lament about the past, or worry about what may possibly happen in the future. The majority of the time the things we worry about never come to pass. If we could stay in the right here, right now, we’d realize we are okay. Ask yourself this, right now at this very moment, are you in danger? If not, feel free to relax, and enjoy your day.

FOCUS ON WHAT IS GOOD:

Today, in this moment, we have food, a roof over our heads, and we definitely have internet access other wise you wouldn’t be reading this. There are people in your life who care about you, even if you don’t always feel it. The world is a place full of beauty and art and music and nature and heart-stopping wonder, and it’s all available to you. So how bad could it be?  Step out of the fear, and think about all that is right in your life. If you can’t see it, spend a day volunteering on Skid Row, serving the homeless. It’ll put things in perspective real quick. Sometimes I play this game with myself:  If I were alone on a desert island, what are all the things I would miss, all the things I would dream about?  I write it down. Try it. When you play that game, you realize just how much you have to be thankful for. Turn off the TV. Stop listening to the noise, and stay in the good place in your life.

DO WHAT BRINGS YOU JOY:

No matter what is happening in the stock market, in politics, at your job, don’t let it rob you of JOY. Find what brings you happiness, even the little things, and do that. Make no excuses. You need this. If you can afford a spa day, go for it, but joy doesn’t cost money. Take a bubble bath with candles, take a long walk in a beautiful place, sit under a tree and read an inspiring book, buy yourself a 64-pack of brand new Crayolas- lay on the floor and color, play your all-time favorite album, go to the beach. Even little things can bring great joy.

GET OUT OF DODGE:

If you can possibly afford it, take a break. Get out of town for a few days. Albert Einstein said, “You can not solve a problem with the same mind that created it.”   I know personally that I need to get out of my every day routine and environment to look at things differently. Even if I can’t afford it, the sanity and clarity are priceless. There are other places in life you can cut back financially. I’d rather eat potatoes for a week and get myself some much-needed perspective. If I can’t get away, even a day of walking on the beach can bring that perspective.

And finally, if you still can’t get out of your place of fear, try this…

WHAT’S THE WORST THAT COULD HAPPEN?

After our house burned down, I had an anxiety disorder that could send me reeling with a panic attack at the drop of a hat. My therapist used to play this game with me:

He’d say, “Okay, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“I will lose everything, be penniless and homeless and have no credit.” (All of which did eventually happen, by the way)

“And then what?” he’d say.

“I guess I’ll…have to find a good job, and find a place to live.”

“And then what?”

“Well, I guess little by little…I’ll pay off my debt.”

“And then what?”

“I guess I’ll be okay.”

(and I was, and am.)

Play this game with a friend, with every possible worst-case scenario, and keep going until you’ve sorted it all out. The reality is never as bad as you make it out in your head.

So, America, let’s all just settle down and relax. As we know, it’s not the end of the world (that was supposed to be May 22^nd, and that didn’t happen either.) Look at the people of Japan. The absolute WORST has literally happened to them. And yet they are out there in the trenches with shovels, starting at square one, rebuilding their lives. The world is resilient, and so are we. Leave fear behind. Embrace your life.

And finally, I’ll leave you with this quote:

“Everything will be okay in the end. If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.”

-author unknown

When It Rains, It Pours.

Just as I hit the submit button on my "gratitude blog" yesterday, a pipe burst in the ceiling of Evan's room, black stinking liquid gushing through his ceiling fan and the air vents in the walls, then traveling through the air vents to my art studio.

If there is such a thing as "The Secret",  I suppose I'm not very good at it.

This is what was dripping on us from the ceiling. I hopefully asked Troy, "Am I being too Pollyanna to think we might have struck oil and are going to be millionaires?" (Oh but oil doesn't smell like this) Demolition crews are on the way to rip out the ceilings in Evan's room and my art studio. Carpets are already gone.

Troy and I were feeling very, very beat down yesterday. Depressed. And it happened to be our son Taylor's 21st birthday. (Sorry for the crappy birthday, Tay) But you know...we keep reminding each other, we have love, and we have our health. All the crap that's happened to us is just a huge hassle.  My friend Anita lies in a hospital bed fighting for her life. Now that's a problem.

So we keep trudging...through the muck. Literally.

I have no explanation except that life is just a freekin' rollercoaster ride. What can we do but make the best of it? Hands in the air everybody...Here we gooooooo....

Evolution of a Blog

Thank you for the gift you have given me.

When I started this blog a year and a half ago, I was writing about the trials and tribulations of the writer’s life - the agent rejections, the self-doubts, the pressing urge to write anyway. Never in a million years did I think this blog would become the Dexter SAGA. Never did I imagine I would be on the frontlines of animal activism. But, like my friend Monica Holloway said to me, sometimes life taps you for a cause. You may have never seen it coming but one day there you are, rising up to a fight you didn’t know was in you. Monica is now one of the main spokespersons for Autism awareness. It certainly wasn’t what she had dreamed of as a little girl, but life, as they say, is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.

So here I am.

For anyone who is new to this blog, suffice it to say the past two years have been a whirlwind of drama (and yet blessings sandwiched in there, somehow).

Just a few weeks ago, for instance, I had an amazing miracle of a day: I was Monica’s guest at a private luncheon for Michelle Obama. I was on cloud nine. We laughed and ate and drank wine and were transfixed and inspired by Michelle. Then, as soon as I got home, still walking on air, I got an email from my attorney that our request to keep our dog Stitch during the appeal process had been denied, and now we had to appear in court to beg again. Right after that I got a phone call that the job I had just clinched (which was going to pay for my attorney) had fallen through.  For some reason, that’s how most of my days have been for the past two years. I can’t even bask in a happy moment for a full 24 hours before the next storm hits.

My life hasn’t always been this way. Thank God I’m an obsessive journaler. I can look back at the years 2005-2009 and see what peaceful, happy years they were. But 2010 and 2011…not so much. Luckily (or actually NOT luckily) this has happened to us before. 1995 and 1996 were hellish years. Our house burned down with both our businesses in it, so we were homeless, jobless, hopeless. But we made it through those times, and that is how I know we will make it through these. I learned then that when you are walking through the dark valley of your life, there is no other way but through. You may look for a way to catapult yourself over it, to fly over it, to avoid it by numbing yourself with substances or addictions…but it doesn’t work. You just have to keep trudging through the muck. So that is what we’re doing. And that’s what this blog is for me…a place to trudge through, to sort it all out in my head. If I was walking through life with all this trapped inside me, my brain would be like a hornet’s nest, full of confusing angry thoughts. But instead, you’ve given me a space to put it all out there and connect to others who “get it”.

So for that I want to thank you today. Thanks for sticking with my blog through it’s evolution, and all it’s ups and downs. Thank you for caring, for reading, for commenting to let me know I’m not the only one toughing it out right now. You have been my safety net over troubled waters, and I hope I return the favor.

You've given me a true gift. You guys rock.

Sometimes You Gotta Wave the White Flag

Stitchy and Taylor taking a power nap.

For days now we’ve been anxiously awaiting the judge’s ruling on my dog Stitch, and with each day that passes I am more on edge, still reeling from the insanity of it. How did this thing go to trial? How did the trial last a whole damn week? And why didn’t we get a ruling at the end? Every time I think we’re at the end of it, it gets dragged out further. Here we are a year and a half later. My nerves are a jangled mess. For the love of God let’s just get this over already! How much can one person take? And as if that weren’t enough, Stitch has some sudden mystery ailment. He’s listless, depressed and moving slowly, and for the past two days he won’t  eat. I took him to the vet yesterday and $200 later, they have no idea what’s wrong with him. I’ve lost two dogs to terrible illness in the past three years so to say I’m a bit paranoid….uh, yeah.

On top of that- one of my best friends, Anita, was rushed to the hospital yesterday to have a second heart transplant. How can a person as gentle and good as Anita go through this twice in a lifetime? When she made it through the first transplant nine years ago, we all breathed a sigh of relief. Until her second heart gave out.

Since the surgery yesterday, Anita has spent the last 24 hours in an induced coma, and I have spent that time basically flogging myself. I haven’t been a good enough friend! I haven’t visited enough.  Called enough.  Done enough. I’ve visited or chatted on the phone with her maybe once or twice a month. Yes my life has been insane with trials and tribulations, not to mention I’ve got little ones in my care, but if I am completely honest about it…the truth is that I haven’t seen her more because I can’t stand to watch my friend slipping away. It is so painful that I can only take it in small doses. If Anita can face all she has, then dammit I need to be stronger and face things I’m afraid of, like the possibility of losing her. 

Cindy, Beth, Me, Anita and Erin 

So here I am today, just a ball of stress, even though I know worry and stress (and self-flogging) serve nothing and no one. It is a complete waste of energy that should be invested into positive channels, like prayer, and faith, and positive action.

But what positive action can I take? Anita is in ICU. I can’t visit her, they don’t allow flowers. The trial is over, and it’s out of my hands. Vets don’t know what’s wrong with Stitch and he can’t talk.

Life is making it very clear that I have no control over anything right now. I’ve done what I could, and though I’m holding on by my fingernails to the illusion of control, my only real option is to sit here like a lump and wait.

I HATE WAITING.

So I do what I can. I write. I pray. I lament about it to you.

And when I’ve exhausted every other possibility, I surrender.

Que sera, sera.


(All prayers for Anita happily accepted! Keep 'em coming, people...)

Buried Treasure

Life. Just when you think you’ve got a handle on it, the plot changes. And always, in the thick of it, there are messages (if you’re paying attention), and lessons to be learned.

I had deluded myself into thinking I’d already paid my dues. In the early years of our marriage we had lost our home and everything we owned in a fire, we had been bankrupted, betrayed, estranged from my family. You’d think that would be enough. At least I did. I’d done my hard work in therapy. I finally had a grip on life, an understanding of the ways of the world. Smooth sailing from here on out, I thought. But in 2010, life threw us one curve ball after the next and there we were knocked on our asses again, a sickeningly familiar feeling.

One of the twists in the plot was Stitch. I’ve adopted rescues and strays all my life, but I had a feeling of trepidation when we adopted this little dog. I remember I kept asking my husband “Are you sure? Are you up to adopting this little guy?”  He said he was. Still I had this unsure feeling. Somewhere deep inside I sensed I was signing up for an unimaginable journey.

To anyone who thinks animals don’t have souls…I can only imagine you’ve never lived with a furry family member. I suggest you read my friend Monica Holloway’s book “Cowboy and Wills”, about how a golden retriever came into the life of her autistic son and changed him forever.  Similarly, our Stitch has been a messenger. He brought huge drama to our lives (no fault of his own) and through it has taught us how to stand up to bullies, how to keep ourselves centered in the middle of insanity, how to navigate the justice system (which can sometimes feel like an injustice system). But the most important lesson has been humility. We fought on our own as long as we could, and then, when we were losing the battle, we had to reach out for help – which was really, really hard. But then we learned more lessons, about true kindness and compassion, and how much of it there is in the world. We learned that there are a few bad apples out there, but the good and generous people far outweigh them. We learned that there are hundreds of people all over the country, both friends and strangers, who care deeply about the plight of one little dog.

Because of Stitch and our fight, I’ve connected with people all over the country. I’ve strengthened bonds with friends. We’ve been able to share a part of ourselves, our music, our art. We’ve been able to connect with others through our stories. And one Sunday evening in April, under beautiful Spring skies, we were able to gather with friends for a perfect evening, drinking good wine, sharing music, stories and laughter to raise money for the Stitch trial. Who ever could have imagined.

The week of the trial was truly awful. Troy and I were stressed out all day, buried in testimony, being cross examined on the stand, contacting witnesses and preparing briefs, passing each other in the halls as we struggled to handle our daily responsibilities. One night that week we both woke up at about 3 am.

“Hi” I said. “You up?”

“Yeah. Can’t sleep.”

“Well, how are you? I mean, we haven’t really talked in a while.”

“I know.” He said, “I miss talking to you.”

With that, I got a bottle of red wine and some dark chocolate, and we sat there in the dim glow of the nightlight, talking, laughing, drinking wine, and just enjoying that peaceful, precious moment while it lasted. We knew the morning would bring another grueling day in court, so we clutched that little bit of happiness while we could. I will never forget it.

Through this ugly battle, many beautiful things have come, and we have been forever changed. I have learned that no matter what dark times may come in the future, there is always a jewel to be unearthed. We had no control over the crazy things that have transpired over the last year and a half, but we did have a choice as to how we would react, and how we would receive the lesson. We chose to focus on the positive gifts.

No matter what the judge’s final decision will be, Troy and I feel great knowing that we did the right thing, we stood up for what we believed, and made it through this drama with our integrity intact. What better gift could there be?

Today I’ll sign off by sharing a beautiful poem by Rumi that has given me courage through the rough times in my life:

The Guest House 

This being human is a guest house.

Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still, treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,

meet them at the door laughing,

and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.

~ Rumi ~