Last spring Jeff stood out in the crowd at Times Square with a sign. The sign read, I was a victim of child sexual assault. He stood there for three hours and the kids and I filmed while most people walked by as if he wasn’t even there. A handful of people did stop and some would pat him as they walked by or tell him they were sorry.

Next year on April 17th we are going to do it again and we want you there with us. Together let us show people the many faces of child sexual assault. Our wish would be to have young people, older people, men, woman, everyday folks, celebrities, a myriad of  ethnicities and socioeconomic backgrounds.

We’ll be filming three sessions on that day, Times Square, Grand Central & Central Park. Exact times and details will be announced as they are ironed out. I will also be interviewing survivors between now and then (and probably some after too) if you are willing to be interviewed AND you think you can make it for the NYC filming PLEASE…contact me at skeletons@halldorson.com

Imagine what kind of impact we could have if it wasn’t just a man with a sign but instead was many with signs.

I’ll be working on setting up the Event/Project with it’s own page but for now if you are interested in updates sign up here. If you think you can be of help in anyway…please email us directly at skeletons@halldorson.com

Interviews will be about…

• your story of abuse
• what happened when you disclosed
• is your abuser free?
• were you believed?
• have you helped others
• have you written a book, made a movie, started a foundation?
• what do YOU think can be done

This project isn’t just about Jeff’s story it’s about all of your stories…please be a part of it. And forward it to anyone you think would be willing to participate.

So please please please consider joining us in New York City next spring we’ll probably even bring the giant skeleton…

PLEASE SHARE THIS FAR AND WIDE

Peace,

Kelly Halldorson

This will probably be one of the most negative entries you’ll see on this blog. I’ve been putting off writing for nearly half a year. Debating with myself, Jeff and the few friends we’ve shared Erin’s books with whether it’s something that we should bring to light or not. I dabbled in discussing it in another entry but couldn’t bring myself to talk about it specifically. I still don’t know what the right thing to do is. So, best I can do is tell you what I think and hope you pick up her books and/or research her and decide for yourself.

Towards the end of our Skeletons Don’t Sleep project I was busy with promotion and publishing stuff. Jeff had finished the bulk of his part of the project and was feeling idle whilst struggling to try and reply to all of the emotional emails we were receiving from people who’d seen our video/s. He decided to read someone else’s story.  At a trip to Barnes and Noble he found the book Living for Today by Erin Merryn. Seeing as it was published through HCI the company that publishes the works of Dave Pelzer, A Child Called It author, we felt it to be credible.

While still at Barnes and Noble we did a little research and were impressed with the reviews of the book and intrigued by her story. I friended her on facebook and sent her a note that we just picked up her book and thanked her for her efforts, for the cause of child sexual assault. We also told her we were working on our own book and that it had just been published. We told her if she was interested we’d be happy to send her a copy. She accepted our friend request but didn’t reply to our note. We didn’t think much because well we send messages to tons of people, some very busy people and we know first hand how hard it is to reply to all of our messages.

Any way Jeff sat on the bed that night reading next to me while I was doing Skeletons work. Less than a chapter in he started making little comments. What? I don’t understand…Huh?…How did this book get? After a couple of hours of listening to his huffing and puffing (and me dismissing him) I finally stopped what I was doing and asked him to tell me what was bothering him so much about the book.

He said he didn’t understand how it had gotten published. It was confusing most of what she was saying didn’t make sense…and so on and so forth. This is a book that a few hours before he was actually looking forward to reading and felt a great deal of compassion for the author. I responded again, somewhat dismissively, with something like Jeff it’s probably just how it was written. Do you just not like the way it was written? It had to be hard to write, you of all people should know that. Then I got back on task.

About an hour later he said, I’ve had enough of this! And tossed the book. If this is a true story, they should have helped her edit it better. I feel really bad for her if it is because this doesn’t sound legit.

The next day he was still fuming about the book. I asked if he’d read me any passages that bothered him. The first couple I made excuses for her, insisting that we assume her intent was truth and empowerment for sexual assault victims. Then gradually I couldn’t take it either…it all seemed so incredibly fabricated. We searched for an ordered her first book, Stolen Innocence while together we read the rest of Living for Today.

I literally could write a book about the things that seem wrong with Living for Today, Ms. Merryn and her effort to get a law *for children* named after her, Erin’s Law (that’s a whole other blog entry!). And as I said at the beginning of this entry I have been struggling with whether or not to write about it at all but after getting word this young woman is going to be on the Oprah show advocating for victims I felt as though it would be irresponsible not to air my concerns publicly.

I’ll start with, Living for Today: From Incest and Molestation to Fearlessness and Forgiveness. The title includes a reference to forgiveness.

From page 178:

Forgiveness begins with picking off the scab and exposing the wound no one can see but you. For that wound to completely heal, you must be able to let go of bitterness and anger and allow empathy and love to fill your heart and soul.

From page: 177

I do not judge those who cannot, no do I preach forgiveness to survivors. I only share the gift I have found in my own journey to forgiveness.

She must define forgiveness very differently from me because in the same book sometimes on the same pages she writes of her courage to forgive she goes on to write things like this…

page 7-8

His sick, twisted behavior was well thought out {referring to her 13/14 year old cousin who abused her}

page 19

Reading this letter again more than ten years after he {an uncle who supported her cousin} wrote and sent it, I still want to scream at Mike and tell him what a jerk his is.

page 31

Brian used his manipulative, controlling behaviors to silence his two cousins for his own sick pleasure.

page 34-35

Mike is the disturbed old man

What a sad, pathetic man.

page 49 {talking about grandfather’s objections to her appearance on national TV and speaking at a local school young family members attended}

It is too painful to even think of ever talking to my grandpa again without his first apologizing for his inappropriate remarks to my father about my sister and me.

My father eventually had to explain to Grandma that we did not want the Christmas presents, for they were painful reminders from the grandparents who had disowned us. The only gift I will accept from my grandparents is an apology for their words and actions, which would show accountability instead of denial. I hope one day they will consider this. Unfortunately, it appears they believe they owe us no apology.

page 54

Because of my incredible faith and ability to forgive, I was able to put Satan in his place and show him that he messed with the wrong person.

This literally goes on and on. I could continue to post snippets of examples of what *I* see as non-forgiveness but I’ll probably get sued for copyright infringement because I’ll be posting nearly all of the text of her book. Not to mention I still have some other problems/contradictions/issues about the book to cover.

Before I leave the subject of forgiveness I’ll give you two more recent examples of her non-forgiveness I found on her blog.

He will always be a scumbag

Erinmerryn | November 10, 2009

He is an evil, weak, sick, twisted, lying, scumbag that I not only have conquered but forgiven.

I received a phone call Sunday from this scumbags sister who informed me the man I call Richard in my 2nd book spent all summer in jail. AMEN!

read the rest of her entry here.

Then there is gem of forgiveness…the emphasis (bold type) is as it appears on Erin’s blog.

“Brian”

Erinmerryn | July 1, 2010

…..

Looking back at some of those emails last night the same emails he sent me that I published in my first and second book I read them now and I just read the words of a liar. A sick, evil, narcissistic, and manipulating predator! A part of me immediately wanted to walk up and confront him face to face the next time I see him and tell him that I know he is still a sick evil man and tell him he won’t get away with assaulting women forever and one day he will be held responsible.

read her full entry here.

The premise of her second memoir Living for Today is supposed to be about Erin’s disclosure of a *deeper* secret of more serious abuse than she originally wrote about in her first book, Stolen Innocence. Her first book was about the abuse she (and her younger sister) endured at the hands of her cousin. The book is her diary when she was suffering from the abuse. Abuse that by her account went on for almost two years starting when she was 11 years old. Her abuser, her cousin, “Brian” was two years older. The book is never specific about his age at the time of the start of the abuse but if you do the math it would appear he was 13, despite being a teenager (and a young one at that) Erin repeatedly refers to him in the book as the man who stole the innocence of a little girl (being her, just two years younger than the man).

Her description of the assaults are disturbing and for the most part believable. Her cousin even admits to three counts of assault when he is interrogated by police (for hours without his parents present). However, some of the specifics seem to be exaggerated, specifically her role. I have nothing to place my finger on other than she over explains and over explains and over explains, ends relationships with relatives, is ridiculously self-righteous and demands apologies from anyone that suggests she isn’t the amazing hero she believes herself to be.

The deeper secret was that she claims to have been molested multiple times and raped by a big black man (she repeatedly points out that he was a big African-American man) at the age of six. The book covers her disclosure to her parents and police. She originally says there were two other girls present for the molestation and claims to have witnessed both other girls being abused.

Now here comes just a few of the million little holes in her story.

First and one of the biggest ones. She claims to have found drawings she had done as a child that document the rape by the large black man. Drawings that *nobody* had ever found until she was days away from disclosing the rape to her parents. Drawings Erin found, herself (while alone), in a folder of childhood artwork she and her mother had looked through together just couple of years prior but never noticed. She attributes not finding the drawings then (with her loving mother by her side) to God knowing she wasn’t ready to see them.

page 75

I could not believe what I was seeing, and it had been there for anyone to see. Why was I finding these sixteen years later stored away in my parent’s crawl space? A few years earlier I had come across that same folder but took out only one or two pictures as my mom and I laughed at how I drew people when I was little. Had we continued to look at all of the papers, we would have discovered it.

Second, her story is that this large black man that assaulted her was the uncle of a friend named Ashley. The friend she never mentions in her diary (or her first book) despite being best friends. She discloses to her parents and to the police. The police open and investigation and find her alleged large black man rapist. They investigate. They interview family. Child Protective Services is called because there is another young girl living with him. The best friend, Ashley, she claims to have seen abused and claims knew about her abuse doesn’t remember anything.

page 224

I took Ashley and her mom through all of the abuse I endured.

“Ashley, do you have any memory of this?”

She shook her head. “I can’t confirm or deny it ever happening.”

“Do you think you could have repressed it?”

That’s a snippet from the final chapter in Living for Today. The chapter is called A NEW PROMISE and it has to be one of the saddest things I have ever read. You read as Erin discusses her “abuse” and plants idea after idea with leading questions and explanations. The sister, Tonia, of “Richard” - Erin’s alleged rapist -and the mother of the Ashley recounts her own story of sexual abuse as a child and guilt at the very idea that maybe she put her own daughter/s in possible danger. And Erin feeds her.

They also never find or even remember the *other* friend that was supposed to have witnessed and been victim to the abuse.

Both books, Erin’s blog and her successful efforts to have a LAW named after her (one that requires all publicly schooled children in Illinois be taught about child sexual assault - don’t even get me started on that) all ooze of horrific narcissism.

I’m all for self-promotion. I mean I do enough of it. I’m all for and extremely in supportive of the idea of speaking out against abuse and sharing your story. But after reading Erin’s books, visiting her site, watching some of her videos (check out this one for starters: http://myown.oprah.com/audition/index.html?request=video_details&response_id=561&promo_id=1) I was left feeling dirty. Not dirty in the way you’d think, given the topic she covers but dirty in the way of something just isn’t right here.

My opinion is she was assaulted by her cousin. There was some miscommunication and he obviously went too far. Then she wrote a book and started speaking. She went to school and got her Master’s in social work. She heard tons of other stories, more horrific stories than her own. She didn’t feel like a powerful enough voice. She remembered a weird black man from childhood…and…her voice stronger voice was born.

I don’t know Erin. I don’t have any reason whatsoever to want to make her look bad. I think she makes herself look bad.

This is from the epilogue in Living for Today

I have survived sexual abuse and rape. I have reached a new place in my life that goes beyond just surviving. I have recently discovered a place in my recovery: no longer healing but completely healed. This wound no longer haunts me.

Really? Did you get that impression from the quotes above or from her blog entries? I certainly didn’t and I know from my experience with Jeff, among other things, that it doesn’t work like that and it is an insult to all the survivors out there to imply it does. I also find it disturbing how she seems to exaggerate the experiences with her cousin. What happened sounds terrible. Period. There is no need to make it sound worse than it was and by doing so she lessens the pain of victims of more serious abuse. And believe me I/we’ve heard stories from survivors (since we’ve been giving away free copies of our book to survivors) that I can’t even begin to describe. It’s heartbreaking really.

I’ve written this and although it might sound terribly harsh (and I’ve actually held back a LOT) I really hope I’m wrong. I’d hate for Erin to become Oprah’s next James Frey. So, please don’t take my word for it or even Jeff’s word for it. Pick up her books, check out her website and decide for yourself.

Lastly, I’ll leave you with Erin’s own words…

Living for Today, page 14

I learned that people from all walks of life are capable of things that may seem out of character or unimaginable.

Peace,

Kelly Halldorson

Dinner for Schmucks, promo photo

I did put a mask on for about five minute but found it too itchy and thought it was hard to breathe. Griffin helped me (no sweeping just carrying boxes upstairs and outside) but thankfully only for a very short time.

Last night I was coughing and coughing and coughing. I did not feel myself at all. I started getting a little nervous and looked up exposure to mouse droppings. And guess what came up. It’s dangerous and there is nothing you can do but wait and see. I haven’t had any kind of flu-like symptoms but I’m sore as hell and my chest has been heavy since yesterday. I feel like a freakin’ idiot.

I am a cautious person. It’s not like I’m some kind of throw caution to the wind person. I may appear that way but I usually have thought and thought and analyzed the risks and benefits of whatever it is I’m doing. That goes doubly so when it comes to health and physical risk. I’m cautious. I’m also not one to freak out at the slightest boo boo. Generally, I downplay symptoms and physical problems…when it comes to myself even more so but this time I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was at least a little worried.

If you EVER have to clean a garage, basement, whatever, with mouse poop, please take precautions and bleach it and wear a mask. Don’t assume you’ll be fine. You might be but why risk it? At a minimum you’ll save yourself the stress of wondering whether you will be.

And…in a very amusing and surreal twist…Jeff and I decided to take the kids to a movie for a break from the work. We picked Dinner for Schmucks. We chose the movie because it was a comedy (we needed some laughs) and it stars Paul Rudd and Steve Carell. That is ALL we knew about the movie, never saw a preview.

You could imagine my surprise when we made when the opening scene featured a man creating art pieces with taxidermies of mice.

The movie is about a man, who wants to impress his girlfriend and get a promotion at work. He gets an invite to an exclusive dinner with the bosses. The participants are supposed to invite an idiot. I’ve been feeling like an idiot myself since last night. The the idiot he chooses makes art with dead mice. The movie was hilarious but it was one of those odd coincidences that made me feel like I was in the middle of some surreal dream.

Why did we pick that movie? We rarely go to see a comedy in the theater. We usually reserve the theater for special effects and/or action drama, comedies are watched at home on the couch.

I guess I’m the idiot with the dead mice but at least I got to laugh with my family tonight and even though I’m concerned, I’ll likely be just fine.

Peace,

Kelly

We woke up pretty early because we had to get the plastic on the high tunnel greenhouse we (mostly Jeff) are building before heading to New Castle later in the day so I could take some photos for a Le Leche League brochure.

The temperature was warm but not hot and crisp but not cold. There was no wind. It could not have been more perfect weather to put the plastic on this greenhouse. The plastic came in a gigantic roll that weigh close to 100 lbs, if not more. Jeff had to first get it up to the top and then balance on the spine of the greenhouse as he unrolled it across 72 feet. Once it was unrolled the length of the green house he unfolded the sides and secured them down. We all had to help a little but Jeff really did all the hard work. It was no easy feet, especially seeing as our 80+ year old landlord came down on his tractor to watch. It was pretty nerve-racking but Jeff managed.

High Tunnel Greenhouse, if you need one of these put up anywhere in the US…contact us

While he battened down the sides Zoe and I did a little exploring in the yard. I chased a butterfly got a couple shots and Zoe found a great little green guy, missing a leg.

This may be a Red Spotted Purple. If you know otherwise please let me know and I’ll edit.

this would be Zoe’s find, a young Praying Mantis

It was supposed to start pouring around noon. Thankfully the rain kept away and Jeff was able to work on the greenhouse until I had to leave at 2:00 and head to the ocean. I had plans for a photo shoot. So, he was able to come with us! We stopped at Starbucks on the was for some cool drinks because it had gotten pretty hot at the farm toward the end of our time there.

It was  gorgeous at the beach, not too hot and not too cold. Complete with a cool salty breeze and breathtaking sky.

the sky in New Castle, New Hampshire

I started taking some shots of the kids. Jeff was sweet and played dad in a few of the shots. The theme for the Le Leche League conference I was shooting the promo shots for is, family…building strong families. I haven’t finished going through all the shots yet but while I was there I also tried to get shot of the individual families and/or moms with babies so they could have some pictures for themselves. Here are a few of those.

I have a ton more. I think I took nearly 200 photos. Not all are winners but certainly there should be a good amount to pick from for the conference promo shots. I’m satisfied with the shoot though I always wish I had taken just a few more shots!

It was also was an interesting photo shoot because it was the first time I’ve ever done a “photo shoot” without an SLR. That’s right, for these pictures and all the picture on this entry I used my Canon Digital Elph cameras. I have two.

Canon Digital Elph SD 960 IS

When Jeff, the kids and I were leaving there was another photographer setting up on the beach. He had a flash on a stand, a big family all dressed alike and a huge camera and lens. While I’m not opposed to big set-ups, I’m absolutely positive now that they are not *necessary* and like with many things in life we can often get by with much less than we think and still have a life filled with beauty.

We ordered pizza and picked it up on the way home. We also stopped at the grocery store and Jeff went in to grab a few things, including my new favorite…Truly Yours Bars by Tofutti. While Jeff was in the store the kids and I witnessed what had to have been the closest lightning strike I’ve ever experienced. I saw the actual line in my rear view mirror and while things were still lit up there was an immense BOOM.  It rattled everyone. Jeff said inside the store the lights flickered and people got nervous. He thought the building was struck. The kids thought the car was struck. I think it was just the ground behind the car and right in front of the store.

By the time we got home the storm had well passed over us. It was nearing sunset. I was sitting in the bedroom and suddenly saw the light from outside turn orange. I didn’t get up to look because I figured it was just a cloud passing in front of the sun or something. Then I heard Jeff yell for me to come take a look at something and Griffin shout, WOW! Oh my God!

I jumped up all freaked out but thought enough to grab my camera because generally that’s why people yell for me to come look at stuff these days.

We all walked out onto the front porch and everything and I mean everything was orange. It was as though we were walking into a sunset. It was still and silent and looked as though (one of my facebook friends described it) everything was in sepia. Almost as though you were part of some old silent film with the exception of our own voices. I took a few pictures but they really don’t do the experience justice. It was strangely creepy.

Overall a great day filled with lots of imagery, cool new people, bugs, learning, connections, happiness, ocean, sun, building and so much more. Thanks for letting me share a little taste with you.

Peace,

Kelly

I’m one of those people that don’t get poison ivy. I have never been able to consistently recognize it either. I’ve tried. Especially over the last few years because my kids get it, at least two of them. Wolfgang appears to be immune like me. Zoe and Griffin get it every year and now that we live in the woods…let’s just say last year Griffin had poison ivy from May until October…poor kid it sucked.

And you know what? Griffin is the one out of all of us who is *best* at recognizing it. He can not only point it out but he can describe it to a tee, as well as tell us all the areas in the yard and the neighborhood where it grows. Zoe’s knowledge on the subject of poison ivy is just about the same.

Wolfgang and I not a clue really. Sure if it right there and there is nothing else sometimes I notice it. I remember all the things people say like leaves of three and something about it being shiny. But I just can’t seem to *see* it.

My first encounter with poison ivy was at camp as a kid. I went to a local public day camp here in New Hampshire called Camp Sun and Fun. One afternoon we were hiking. I was at the back of the line, a straggler. One of the counselors noticed me and stopped the group, to yell at me. The tongue lashing involved me being lazy and needing to keep up and on top of it I was stupid and not paying attention and walked right through poison ivy.

It’s funny really, the memory is so vivid because he walked right over to me and stood pointing at all the poison ivy and yelled, “See! Look at all the poison ivy! You need to stay on the path and follow us! You are going to be covered! What’s wrong with you?” I saw him pointing but to me what he was pointing at looked just like what *he* was standing in. It look to me…just like the rest of the ground in the woods.

Needless to say I didn’t break out and I still look at the leaves on the ground near clueless.

Jeff is somewhere in between. I remember years ago when he could recognize poison ivy anywhere and describe it well. And he still can if there is a lot of it. He is allergic but not nearly as much as he used to be. He has stories of getting it in his bloodstream as a kid and going to the hospital to get shots of steroids. Now he’ll get a quarter-sized spot here or there but nothing huge.

He was standing with me when I took this photo. It’s the ground right by the road. We have all seen poison ivy here before…but I can’t see any now. But I already told you I can’t really see it anyway…so I wonder can you? Is there poison ivy in the photo?

Can you recognize poison ivy in the real world?

My thoughts on the whole thing are this… It’s not important enough to my survival, my body and not really interesting enough to my mind (other than the question of why I can’t retain the info) for me to remember or understand what it looks like. It’s hugely important to Griffin and Zoe so they know exactly what it is. Both of them also have the added sense of what it *feels* like so if they brush against it their bodies know *hey that’s poison ivy*

What do you think? I’m hugely curious what the rest of you think…

What does an unschooling day look like exactly?

Today was the perfect example of a fairly *uneventful* yet beautifully filled with learning, love and joyous living day. It included some very sad inspiration too as well a lot of happy stuff too. I’m not sure I can write about EVERYTHING we talked/learned about and/or experienced today. In fact, I could probably fill a book with just today.

I’ll give it a try anyway.

Yesterday my mother sent me a note asking us to come for a visit. We agreed and the plan was to just wake up, shower and head up. On a Sunday that could put us there anywhere from 10:00 am to noon. Wolfgang had slept really late yesterday - we’re talking waking in the early afternoon. So, needless to say he didn’t sleep last night, at all. I woke up around 4:00 am to the sounds of thunder, not that cheezy Bob Seger song but real, loud, clapping, violent thunder. I tossed and turned until it faded off into the distance, got up and went to the bathroom only to realize poor Wolfgang was tossing and turning himself. I talked to him for a few minutes then went back in my room.

Then I thought I heard our cat, Random, meowing outside. I got up and checked. It took a little bit but I coaxed him out of the woods and into the house. I a was sleepy and wide awake at the same time. I was unable to resist the stunning sky. I grabbed my tripod and headed out into the dark barefoot looking for the best places to catch the sky. I spent a good 15-20 minutes outside waiting for the moon to pop back out of the clouds so I could snap a shot. No luck. So, I gave up and went back inside. Wolfgang was still awake so I suggested he go out in the living room and write or something. I would have liked to have stayed up with him but I was just too beat after standing out in the night. Either that of the adrenalin of being outside in the near pitch black had worn off. Wolf took my advice and spent the next couple of hours watching youtube videos and researching.

Jeff and I woke up around 8:30 am. Jeff made coffee. The kids showered one by one while Jeff worked on his Diane Sawyer project and I wrote.

After our shower, Jeff and I talked about something that has been eating away a me (and I’m sure many other people) for a few days now. The birds. The birds in the gulf. The oiled birds. Not just the birds really but all of the animals down in the gulf. The oil. All the OIL.

When it first happened I purposely didn’t read about it or watch because I knew it would be too upsetting and/or overwhelming for me. I was right. It is.

All I can think about, now that I’ve started to pay attention and I have seen those images, is getting myself down there to wash off those birds. To hold them and talk them and to show them that humanity isn’t just that oil slick.

Nearly the entire way up to my parents for our visit that is exactly what we talked about. All of us, except Wolfgang because he fell asleep before we were even out of the driveway. LOL. Jeff suggested next time he can’t sleep for us to just drive him around the block like we did when he was a little peanut. Griffin, Zoe, Jeff and I discussed ways to raise money to make the journey down to help the animals. We talked about various ways to try and plug the hole. We talked all the different people that were/are responsible. Why we thought it wasn’t getting taken care of fast enough. We talked about what kind of devastation there will likely be and what there is already. I don’t mean just Jeff or I talked and the kids listened. I mean they told us their ideas, feelings and thoughts on the whole situation and we listened.

Zoe and Griffin both came up with some amazing observations and ideas. Zoe suggested the person that created the miracle water filter (the Lifesaver Bottle) should make a big version that could be dragged over the top of the water. Griffin made a suggestion for containment and/or using gravel to fill the hole.

We all wondered what and if there is anything WE can/could do to help.

At my parents we talked about everything from computers, iPod applications, internet, email, oil, music, dj equipment, squirrels, indigo buntings, photography, blogging, writing, drumbeats, iTunes, and so much more. We used the internet to share our ideas, thoughts and inspiration.

We played a game of apples to apples which prompted discussions and pauses to look up various things online like human sonar…

…or when plastic was invented, when diabetes as discovered and a discussion about disgruntled postal workers including the story behind the phrase going postal…

And we laughed and laughed and laughed.

Jeff looked up info on salt mining another thing we had discussed on the way up. Griffin and I were not sure how salt was gathered and what the difference between Sea Salt and Table Salt was. After Jeff shared his online finds about salt mines I did some researching and found some interesting stuff myself. This video was just one I found about an accident involving oil drilling and a salt mine in Louisiana in the 80s. I shared it with Jeff, the boys and Pepere.

We ate Amy’s Vegan Pizzas, kids had Stouffer’s Mac & Cheese and we all ate Marry Me Bars and watched Tim Burton’s incredible, beautiful, extraordinary, Alice in Wonderland. Which prompted conversations about Tim Burton, caterpillars, Coraline, Neil Gaimen, Johnny Depp, movie making, green screen, effects, adaptation…and the list goes on.

The drive home was just as wonderfully conversation filled and inspiring as the rest of the day coming right back around full circle to the birds in the oil and how we can get down there to help them.

This is only a small slice of what the day. I can’t possible fill you in on every morsel of learning, joy and sharing that happened today but if you ever wonder what unschooling looks like…especially on one of those “do nothing” days….this would be a good example.

Now that I’ve finished this blog entry…I’m off to join the rest of my amazing family in dreamland. Maybe I’ll get to save some birds while I’m there…better yet maybe I can stop the spill from ever happening. It’s my dream, right? Why not….

Sometimes I’m too good at this (seeing things in a better light) and I fall victim to a false reality. Or do I?

This photo is one I took in Somersworth, New Hampshire. I had to really search for the beauty. There was a plastic bag hanging in the tree. I moved the camera to the right a little and *poof* it was gone. Not to mention the water was filthy, it smelled really bad and I was standing on broken glass. It didn’t take much to block those things out. The camera doesn’t pick up the smell, I didn’t focus on the water and my feet were out of sight of the lens.

Right now I’m having some trouble, physically. I’m tired. Really exhausted. I think it might have something to do with my Thyroid. I’ve been terrible about taking my medication. I really don’t *want* to take the medication. I take Synthroid it’s a thyroid stimulating synthetic hormone. My thyroid doesn’t work as well as it’s supposed to and I need medication to compensate for it’s under-activity. At least that’s the idea.

What I’m told will happen to me if I don’t take the medication is I will eventually just slip into a comma. That’s the melodramatic part…and it would take a LONG time to get there and I would have plenty of problems before that like hair falling out, depression, heart problems etc etc.

I’ve read a lot and there are plenty of other homeopathic alternatives to the conventional therapy but I’m struggling with how to make that transition. I’ve been off of my synthroid for a little while now and despite trying to see things in a better light, the reality of my TSH levels climbing and my energy level plummeting is something I need to accept and and not ignore.

I guess what I’m saying is it is really important to see the beauty in things but to at least acknowledge and/or accept the beauty isn’t the *whole* story. We are not living in Katie’s world where everyone is a pony that eats rainbows and poops butterflies.

Balance and truth in reality remains the real enduring beauty.

Maybe that sounds harsh to you, maybe it doesn’t. I don’t love myself but I don’t hate myself either. I accept and understand myself, but not all the time. It’s all about balance and truth.

I’ve always taken some issue with the whole self-esteem game. Here’s why…I believe self-esteem (if there is such a thing) is determined not by some external force but by our own actions. In other words, I don’t feel someone can give you low-self esteem. Certainly people can make you feel good about your self and bad about your self but ultimately it is YOU who assigns your own self-worth and I believe you do so through you actions, your thoughts and your choices.

Obviously, this is a bit different in children…so for THIS lets focus on adults…and yes…regardless of their background/childhood.

If you don’t believe me think about the times you feel best about yourself. I’m not just talking about times you feel good but times you feel good about yourself. What were you doing? What had you just done? I’d be willing to bet it involved reaching out in a positive way to another human being or maybe to an animal or maybe to the planet. Maybe you were playing with your child, letting him take the lead or maybe you were just watching your child play. Maybe you smiled at a stranger. Maybe you picked up some trash from a playground.

That is the true essence of self-esteem.

Now think about a time when maybe you felt good but not necessarily good about yourself. I am guessing this involved some sort of self-indulgence? Or maybe another form of guilty pleasure? Guilt is can be a gift. It can remind us to take a step back and look more openly at a situation/event. But we can’t allow ourselves to wallow in it either. Accept there is a reason a cause then let is pass. Try and make a more positive choice the next time.

I always tell Jeff and the kids, I don’t love myself. I think that’s silly. I don’t hate myself. I think that’s silly too. I accept myself as a person, full of beauty and full of flaws. I am not love and I am not hate. I am choice.

There are times when I feel pride (self-love) and there are times when I feel regret (self-hate) but they are just feelings. They are not what I am. What *I* do is when I’m feeling a lot of pride, I work to ground myself. When I feel a lot of regret, I work to elevate myself.

Self-love can be as destructive as self-pity. Don’t focus too much on what you can do. It’s good to want to change the world. It’s wonderful to think you can. It’s best (I think) to be present and accepting of where you are now and make choices in every moment that reduce suffering. Your suffering. Your loved ones’ suffering. The world’s suffering.

I just posted a quote on facebook:

“kelly says there is a really thin line between confidence and arrogance….confidence requires humility while arrogance is the absence of it.”

Jeff responded sweetly with this photo:

While it’s entirely cute and I love him for posting it. It wasn’t my point. I don’t think there is anything gained in seeing yourself as more powerful and bigger than you are. I think what is important is to see yourself as exactly WHO you are. And yes…I know that can all be a matter of perspective.

Peace,
Kelly
*the two kitty photos are not mine…I found through and image search*

I look at this photo of Zoe, at four years old and I feel nothing but sadness, however well intended, I did this to her. I did this to hernot because I didn’t get her vaccinated but because I purposely exposed her. I purposely caused her pain because I thought it was for her own good.

I got Chicken Pox myself as a kid. I woke up with them Christmas morning when I was 4 or 5. According to my mother and what I remember it was really no big deal. So, when it came my own kids came and the Varicella vaccine came out I decided against the vaccine and I still would (decided against vaccinating) today. We vaccinated for everything else (now I probably wouldn’t) but Chicken Pox - since I’d had it and live through it - seemed over the top to me.

I decided with my aunt who’s children are the same age as mine that we would have a chicken pox party if either of our clans ended up with Chicken Pox.

It was the spring of 2001, I believe. My aunt called me to let me know my cousins had it. I quickly arranged for a visit to bring over get well cards and pick up some Varicella germs.

Not long after they all developed symptoms the same day. Headache, fever, slugishness…then the day after Mother’s day the spots appeared. No! Spots is WAY too nice a word…blisters…nasty, itchy, painful blisters.

They presented differently.

Wolfgang had the least blisters and the lowest fever. Overall he was by far the least affected but he cried and cried and cried…from the itchiness, pain (headache) and soreness. I don’t think he has any visible scars.

Griffin was the sickest. He was covered, absolutely covered…except his face he only had a few on his face. He only has two scars. One big (and cute if you look) on the tip of his nose. When I say he was the sickest…boy was he. A little hot box. I couldn’t keep his fever below 103, at all. Even with a fever reducer. It would spike (repeatedly spiking to 105) so high I was concerned for an entire week that we would have to rush him to the hospital any minute. I was on the phone to the doctor’s office constantly and all they really did was shun be for not having gotten the vaccine.

Zoe’s forehead was covered. It was WELL over a year before the redness went away and if you look at her forehead today you can still see plenty of scarring. Yes, she’s beautiful and it’s not *that* noticeable but it’s still there. Her fever was quite high too. She complained the whole week about the headache. It was excruciating.

THEN…Zoe ended up getting them a SECOND time! It was less than a year later and when she entered Kindergarten. She wasn’t exposed to anyone that I know of. I actually believe that she caught it from one of the kids in her class that had just been recently vaccinated. I was told over and over that wasn’t possible. But I was also told by half the doctors that saw her that she must not have had chicken pox the first time…I had to bring this photo to prove it.

Anyway when she caught it the second time. It wasn’t nearly as bad, pox wise but the other symptoms were bad enough. It was right when the school nurse was making sure everyone had their vaccinations. And kids were being sent home that didn’t have the vaccinations yet. So, I *know* there were a handful of kids who got the vaccine in the timeframe to expose here.

If I had it to do over again. I would likely not vaccinate them but I would also not *purposely* expose them to the germs either. When I say that I mean either by going to a chicken pox party OR getting the vaccine. Why bother? Really? I was scared into believing that they needed to get the Chicken Pox or it could be very dangerous as an adult.

All the reasons I thought at the time were good reasons to do it all have crumbled or proved to be somewhat misinformation I had received or read. The number one reason…I wanted them to have a lifetime immunity. —- turns out that’s not really always the case. Zoe got it twice. AND if you’ve actually had chicken pox you can develop shingles later in life.

I just asked my kids what they thought and what they would do with their kids today. NOT giving them any of my thoughts.

ME: Hey Griffin, Do you remember getting chicken pox?
Griffin: Nope.
Zoe: I do!
ME: Both times?
Zoe: Yes!
ME: Okay a question for you. If you had kids *today* would you purposely expose them to chicken pox?
Zoe: NO! (shaking her head, very confused)
ME: Oh, then would you vaccinate them?
Zoe: I’d probably wait until they were older and then ask them how they felt about it.
ME: Thanks! Wolf how about you?
Wolf: What?
ME: If you had kids today, would you purposely expose them to chicken pox?
Wolf: No.
ME: Do you remember getting chicken pox?
Wolf: Nope, not at all.
ME: Okay, Griffin…how about you? Would you purposely expose your kids to chicken pox?
Griffin: What!? Why the hell would I do that?
ME: I don’t know, because well…I - I did that….an…
Zoe: YOU DID WHAT?! You…YOU…did that?! (big cute frown on her face)

I would not advocate purposely exposing kids. I would not advocate vaccinating either (for the same reason).

If *I* had it to do over again I would not vaccinate and if they got it they got it. Keep them as healthy as possible, be aware of the dangers and hope for the best.

Is it really a choice between vaccinate them or purposely expose them? I don’t think so. And isn’t that really the same thing? If you’d rather your kids get the real virus because that’s the natural way, then let them catch a natural way.

Peace,
Kelly

We all seem to be looking for the path through the pasture. Kids are sent to schools where they sit in classrooms, because it’s the right way to grow up. It’s the path everyone takes. It’s the path we are supposed to take. It’s worn. It’s tested.

It’s a not just a path but a rite of passage.

I see things differently. I look out at the pasture and see endless possibilities. I see green grass to lay down on and white clouds to look up at. I see fences to jump, open spaces to run through. I see bugs to swat away or catch. I see squirrels to chase. I see flowers to pick. I see photos to take. I see animals to meet. I hear whispers from the wind. I feel the grass on my bare feet. I smell the fresh cool spring air. I see adventures in the woods on the edge of the pasture. I hear laughter. I see shade to rest under. I see sun and blue sky to revel in.

I see choices.
I see inspiration.
I see opportunity.

I see not walls.
I see not fences.
I see not force.

I love the pasture. I need not take myself nor my family down the worn path of others. I choose to learn with them in joy in the pasture of life.

I see learning and I love life.

Every day, every choice, every experience becomes it’s own rite of passage.

NOTE: I just had to add this odd/spiritual/universe/coincidence thing that happened today. This morning I posted this entry. It was inspired by the photo I took at Sturbridge Village. I had been reading Sandra Dodd’s Big Book of Unschooling. I was on page 124 last night. This morning I posted this entry…this morning. I wrote the entry this morning.

Wow. I love them.

Jeff brought home a box. I just ate three. There is one left in the freezer and it’s taking every bit of energy not to get up and go get it to eat. Really they are *that* good.

You want to try a non-dairy treat? Marry Me Bars by Tofutti

I’m on a roll. I’m starting to really organize and work on a companion book to Skeletons Don’t Sleep. For now the book will be called and he would gather her leaves — and yes — it is inspired by Shel Silverstein’s The Giving Tree. The sub-title will likely be something like: Rethinking Co-Dependence. The point of the book will be to provide some guidance for spouses and/or loved ones dealing with the emotional after-shocks resulting from sexual assault. I’ll be answering a lot of the questions people have addressed *to me* regarding my relationship with Jeff (and his borderline diagnosis).

Many people write me and talk of me like I am some superhuman. I’m not. I’m just like the rest of you, really no different. I have just stumbled along some things that have worked for me. I’ve found some great resources…and I hope to share some of that knowledge with others who might benefit. In the book I will share my perspective on the whole concept of co-dependence and why I think it’s not a bad thing. I’ll share with you my thoughts on self-esteem and inner-peace…and how to manage all that when you have to +give+ more emotionally than you might receive…and why that is okay.

This project is one of three book projects I’m currently working on and hope to have finished by the end of the year. It may sound ambitious but really it’s not. Words really do generally come to me pretty easily. It’s the focus on a finishing the bigger picture…but now that I’ve actually finished a book…start to finish (WITH JEFF!) including the formating, publishing and cover art…I’m convinced I can do it. And I really have Jeff to thank for that…

The other day Jeff posted this as our Skeletons Don’t Sleep facebook status:

“If I had to do it over again I would go through it all as long as I new I would be here with the woman and children I love… I wouldn’t change my childhood or change where I went because then I would have to change where I am now… if this is my prize for playing the game then I won… Jeff”

If I had fell for all the co-dependency is bad stuff then I would have never had that. I would have never had the privilege of knowing the husband, friend and love I have now. Give give give. It’s really okay. You might be surprised at what a gift you receive in return.

Oh and those other two projects are of course the Rocklander Boon and a book on grief.

If you have any questions for *me* as a spouse/loved one of a survivor…here would be a great place to post em. OR email me at skeletons@halldorson.com

Peace,
Kelly

I don’t claim to have ever been a supporter of Obama. I never was and I didn’t believe him when he said he was going to bring the troops home.

I remember when my kids asked me after he was elected what he would do (or more accurately what *I thought* he would do) about the troops, whether or not he was going to bring them home.

I said, I don’t know. I’d like to think he will because that is what he is saying he is going to do but I’m guessing he’ll probably just make a show of bringing some home and then either leave the rest or send them back when the press isn’t paying attention.

I was however hopeful that at the very least there would be a global sense that Americans wanted peace. Sadly, I don’t think that is what has happened. We are expanding our global presence and we are getting even deeper into these entangling alliances. Playing both sides at every turn.

It makes me sad.

I wake up now and see the headlines and I get discouraged. So much of what I read seems doom and gloom. More now than I ever remember. I have to look harder for the good stuff…the positive (as I see it).

Now let me be clear I really don’t think things would be better if McCain had won. He was so overtly pro-war. I think somethings might have been better but other things would have been far worse. You know?

I would like to look at the headlines and not be so discouraged. Why is it people are so interested in micro-managing other people’s lives? When they are so far from perfect themselves? I don’t *get* it. There is so much nit-picking and fighting about technicalities and nobody seems to be paying attention to the root of anything. Sort of like we are running around putting buckets under the leaky roof and arguing about what size bucket to use but don’t put an ounce of energy into the looking at the cause of the leak or put any effort into repairing it…then before we know it the roof is just going to come crumbling down on top of us.

Just look at this healthcare bill. First of all it’s not about healthcare. It’s about health mandates. We haven’t had health insurance in years but we are always treated…when we needed healthcare. Healthcare is/was generally always available. It’s just not free.

But for speaking as someone who doesn’t always have the money to pay and also doesn’t participate in the *free* government programs (although I did get a mamogram Breast and Cervical Cancer Prevention Program, because I had a breast lump the doctor wanted looked at by a surgeon). We do have a hefty amount of medical debt…but we managed to get the care we need when we need it. Most hospitals and doctors offices we’ve dealt with are compassionate and more than willing to work out a payment plan/arrangement. If you just talk to them.

Anyway my point about the healthcare reform wasn’t about any of that…I got off track…sort of.

My point for bringing it up was more about all the nit-picking and fighting that went on in order to pass the bill. A bill that I not one Senator, Congressman or anyone else for that matter thinks is perfect. In fact there were all kinds of immediate *fixes* that needed to be done. Just had to get it through, just forget about whether or not it was the appropriate role for the government in the first place.

*sigh*

Did you have hope? Do you still have hope?

Do you think we’ll ever see peace in our lifetime? Or at a minimum do you think the US will stop meddling quite so much?

Peace,
Kelly

Oh, why are we keeping score?

Where relationships were always balanced? We all suddenly came to peace with our individual roles in the world and stopped trying to change others? This is something *I* have been working on myself for a very long time. Not changing others. Accepting people for who they are and understanding everyone (including me) have limitations. Making that kind of adjustment allows for a few things. The first being it makes you less likely to take something personally. It has also helped me become far more humble. I recognize most of my limitations and can warn people what they are at the same time I work to improve upon them.

With score keeping there is no acceptance. There is only envy and vanity.

I’ve been wondering if we stop sinking,
Would we stand our ground?

We all have our own problems. It would be wonderful if we could help the others with areas of their lives that we actually have had success. But it’s not that simple. Sometimes when/if we try and reach out we add to the problem. By sending more negativity in the direction of the ones we are trying to help…causing them to sink faster. I’ve been doing that myself lately. I’ve realized. I’ve been reading another blog and posting pro-marriage advice. While I believe strongly that advice is needed and good in the balance of the other stuff. The recipient doesn’t hear it and I’m getting the *feeling* my reaching out is causing more pain. So, I’m going to stop. Not stop reading - it’s a great blog - but stop posting.

Sometimes it’s difficult to sit back and just watch people make their own choices in life. Especially the ones close to us. There is a certain negative pride/vanity associated with it. That is why I have spent a lot of energy over the last ten years not to try and change other people in my life. I’m not talking about trying to persuade someone to vote for a specific candidate or shop at a certain store. I’m talking about life choices.

I have been vegetarian for over 20 years now. My kids are all vegetarian. Jeff is now vegetarian. I still cannot attend a single family function without there being a joke about the juicy bloody meat. Seriously. I believe in reducing suffering. I *know* eating meat causing suffering on a massive scale. Suffering that has a rippling effect. However, I rarely impose those that on others. I’ve taught my children to be tactful vegetarians…however they are their own people so they aren’t always tactful…despite my prodding.

This isn’t some mystical belief. It is truth. Specifically - factory farming causes massive suffering. That is fact. All you need to is spend a few minutes online researching and you’ll see video proof of it. Here are just a few resources *if* you are interested in seeing:

www.GoVeg.com
www.VeganOutreach.org
Meet Your Meat
Fowl Play the Movie

That’s all just a start of what is out there. Although I’ve advocated for years about spreading the truth of the meat-industry I’ve tried to be compassionate and understanding to the people that continue to eat meat. For goodness sake I married a man that ate meat until six months ago. In fact if he chooses to start eating meat again, I’m going to continue to love him and be married to him. Why? Because I understand it is *his* journey - *his* choice.

I’ve extended this into other areas of my life too. I have family and friends who make life choices that strongly do *not* reconcile with my way of life…parenting things like public school, formula feeding, daycare, strict punishment or other life choices like excessive drinking, plastic surgery and more…but I don’t meddle. I may express my disagreement with those choices but I would never claim nor do I believe my life is *the right way* to live. Or that I am a *better* person or parent than they are.

What I do *know* about the way I live is that I give it thought every single day. I question myself. I question my choices. I question my parenting. I read. I research. I talk to other people. I am open. I do not take another individual’s life choices that differ from mine as an affront to me personally nor do I see them as a judgement about my choices. I see them as simply different from mine.

Of course there are exceptions, if a person I know tells me (or I witness) they are stealing (greed) or otherwise purposely causing harm to another individual (maybe through an affair - lust) then of course I make a judgement. In those cases I would talk to the person in question. I try and have compassion for where they are or why they might be acting in a certain manner. If they were open to my perspective I might offer up a suggestion to stop the behavior but I find usually people have to learn on their own.

If I think there is someone in pain or someone I love needs help in a way that *think* I may be able to provide. I ask them if there is anything I can do or I tell them I am available if they need me. Usually, I’m very clear about what my limitations are. I’m not good at returning calls, facebook is the best way to reach me. I’d love to get together for coffee if need be but I like to stay close to my family…stuff like that. I have gossiped, no doubt. It is something I am rethinking plan to be more mindful about my speaking of others. When I do *help* someone I do my best to keep it positive…and only do so if my help is requested specifically or there is some general solicitation for advice.

And through everything we’ve learned,
We’ve finally come to terms.
We are the outsiders,

And through everything I’ve learned. I’ve finally come to terms. I am an outsider and I’m so okay with that. I think to feel nothing for other’s choices would be apathy. It’s important to be open and understanding of people who choose to live differently than you do. There is nothing gained from the a wrath that stems from frustration over someone else’s choices.

Shortfalls of little sins
Close calls and no one wins
Stand tall but running thin
I’m wearing thin

I make mistakes. I do. I get snappy and defensive. I’m impatient at times. I’m not always mindful when it’s important…*before* I act or speak. That is why I write so much, I think. Because it allows me to really spend the time to be mindful of my words. To think about what I want to say before I actually say it. Even when I’m so inspired that the words just flow out of me…as if from some foreign place…I still have the ability to take a deep breath and review it before I make them my words, my permanent words.

I’m standing tall, but I’m so running thin, wearing thin. So, with the fallout from the accidental email forwarding. I wrote about it in my Grieving a Bigger Loss entry. I’ve found I’m in need of setting some boundaries for my own sanity at least for the short term. Thus far it has been working pretty well for me and the family though it’s only been a few days. I’ve been able to stay positive and focus on work, writing, book promotion and future goals.

I think life is about accepting differences. We don’t have to condone them all just be accepting of the ability of others to make their own way…and maybe just because we think we may have it figured out…doesn’t mean we are right. And if we’re wrong it doesn’t mean they are right.

I’m not leaving without a fight.
I got my holster around my side.
Just ‘cause I’m wrong it don’t make you right.
No you ain’t right.

It’s funny. When I was writing this blog entry about accepting the choices of others and being compassionate and understanding that those things don’t alway reconcile with your own world. I happened to notice this status update from my stepfather.

You’re not getting by with anything. Every refusal and avoidance of God adds fuel to the fire. The day is coming when it’s going to blaze hot and high, God’s fiery and righteous judgment. Make no mistake: In the end you get what’s coming to you—Real Life for those who work on God’s side, but to those who insist on getting their own way and take the path of least resistance, Fire! Romans 2:5-8 (The Message Bible)

I’m not a religious person. I’m not an atheist. I’m not a Christian. I am closest to an agnostic-taoist. HOWEVER…I am very open and supporting of individual journeys. I have a friend who has his religious beliefs on his facebook page as “whatever makes you want to be a better person” — that’s kind of how I feel. I find value in the teachings of many past spiritual leaders, including Jesus.

Knowledge and ritual without compassion is empty.

Love your neighbor, but who is your neighbor. Your neighbor is the one who is sent to you from the Divine. Your neighbor can be one who is a total stranger to you from afar. Your neighbor can be someone living close to you. But what is true is that your neighbor is one of the Light who needs your support as much as you need his

A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you, that ye also love one another. By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another.

How can anyone *not* see beauty and wisdom in those words? But when I see Christians focusing on passages like the one he posted above, I get discouraged and saddened. When those words are spoken/recited/written by a human…it *feels* as though that person believes they are superior. It is as if it is a threat from the person…join me…or you will burn in hell. Seriously? I don’t want to join that!? If you want to win me over…focus on the positive stuff. Like the teachings of compassion by Jesus. Why not behave like him? Be accepting as he was? Love like he did? Any of those things…maybe not judge my immortal soul as though *you* are God.

I am not agnostic because I do not believe in God. I am agnostic because I accept all the possibilities. There are times in my life when I feel touched by something greater than myself, most recently…when Jeff found the Ax, when we found the Heart Wood or when words come to me from nowhere like when I wrote about Grampy…I just don’t claim to know what exactly that is. To me it’s not clear. It’s an elusive, beautiful thing that needs no definition from me. It just is and will remain for me (for now) a beautiful possibility.

If you have found salvation in Christ (or any other spiritual past). I think that is a wonderful, beautiful thing and I am truly happy for you. If you want to spread that joy and salvation all the better. Trying to scare people into your perspective…not with that.

Things I think we all need to remember…we may think we have the answers…but the reality is we are only human. All flawed. All fallible. All limited yet filled with beautiful near-limitless potential.

Maybe the answers we all seek are not found in one single place? Maybe we need to look outside mainstream…on occasion.

Oh, why are we keeping score?
Cause if you’re not laughing,
Who is laughing now?

Poor kid today at group he got hurt. He was rolling around on a long-board in the parking lot of Mill Pond…hit something in the ground and landed on his face. It was a little scary for all those that saw him because he just lay there after and didn’t move until I went over to get him. He was fine, only a laying there to regroup from the shock of things.

He said. One minute I was rolling around and then I was on my face. It happened so fast!

It looked pretty bad. His face was all bloody. And his face puffed right out, swelling around his eye and giving him a fat lip. And his tooth…his front tooth broke in half. It sucks. He broke the other front tooth years ago.

We call Families First in Portsmouth and they said to bring him right over. They cleaned him up, put a sealant on the tooth and we’ll go back next week to get it fixed. It’s a great place. We’ve been going there for around 10 years now and are pretty happy with the place. They’ve worked with us when we had insurance and when we haven’t. If you are looking for a good organization to donate to, Families First is a pretty good one.

So overall he’s good. No head injury. No deep cuts just some scraping. He is pretty bruised up but now the swelling is down and he is his laughing smiling self again…just a little bruised up.

Peace,
Kelly

The past few days have been difficult ones. I have been struggling with the loss of my grandfather. I spent much of yesterday crying…not nonstop…I had plenty of smiles and laughs in between but the sadness kept creeping up…in little waves. I am working hard to acknowledge the flood.

I have dealt with a lot of death in my life.

My grandmother died of breast cancer when I was 13. She died with her family surrounding her at home through Hospice. As horrific as it was how the cancer ate away at her. I have always remembered it as a beautiful death. She died with all the family sleeping under that roof crashed on the pull out sofa, the floor, and all around her.

I lost my friend Donella to a car crash. I lost my once close friend Marcia to asthma. I hadn’t talk to her in over a year which made the loss that much harder. Two ex-boyfriends died of drug overdoses. My step brother (really my half-brother’s half-brother) died in a car crash less than a year after I met and connected with him, my father died ten years ago…and the list goes on. I feel like as though nearly every other year since my grandmother’s death someone significant *to me personally* has died.

It has helped me to accept death. It really has. I feel the sadness for those closest to the ones lost. I feel the loss of the person’s presence in my life but I’m okay with it. I think experiencing that first death in such a beautiful loving way provided me with something powerful.

I was doing okay with Grampy’s death. It has been painful and sad but I have been okay. I really have. I had one *crazy* moment. Which I’m not quite ready to write about but suffice to say it lasted mere minutes but in that moment I did not feel in control of myself. Thankfully Jeff helped me out of that moment and back into the practical present…and since…I’ve been fine. Actually I’ve been a bit better than fine. I’ve been good. Sad yes, but good.

Now yesterday was hard. I was accidentally forwarded an email. There was content about me, money, our life choices and an issue we are having with poor Wolfgang’s braces. (That’s another story. When we finally get it taken care of it’ll be a blog entry for sure.) The email was hurtful because - well - it was not meant for me. They actually discussed never speaking of any of it to me in the email. It’s not even so much the email that’s so painful for me as it is the timing. It has made me question everything I thought I was a part of. I’m trying to keep a positive perspective but it just makes me all the more sad for the loss of Grampy…because I’m feeling as though he was the glue that held the family together.

Right now it feels like it’s all crumbling. Either that or it was all just an illusion to begin with.

I’m working on finishing my writing from the days at the hospital (which is turning into an actual book about grief)…the days following the Trip to the ER. The thing is my writing paints the picture of another beautiful death. Sad. Tragic. Unexpected. But beautiful in the way the family came together.

Today I’m struggling to find the beauty in any of it. I know it’s there. I’m sure I will see it again. But for now I’m grieving not just for the loss of Grampy but for the loss of something beautiful I felt a part of.

We have been unschooling officially now for a little over a year. Those that understand what it’s all about realize we’re still somewhat deschooling.

But the deal is I had always planned on homeschooling my children. In fact when Jeff took our first trip across the US together (he was 19, I was 20) we talked about it. In one of our learning about each other conversations Jeff asked where I saw myself in the future. I replied, homeschooling my three kids - two boys and a girl, in that order - in a cabin in the woods.

Jokingly he replied, what about me?

It was my reality though. It is one thing I had planned on doing as long as I can remember. It was something that mattered to me. I wanted to be a mom and I wanted to homeschool. I had that part all planned.

I was in my mid-twenties with three kids living near family both Jeff’s and mine. The confidence to do what I believed eluded me. My mother offered to pay for me to put my oldest in a private kindergarten of my choice. Whether the pressure was there or in my head…I felt it and put Wolfgang in school. We continued sending the kids there for the next two and a half years. My parents offered to pay for Kindergarten for each child but Jeff and I covered the cost of the rest of the tuition costs. It cost more than our rent even with the little bartering I did (subbing and computer work).

Then during Wolfgang’s second grade year we chose to pull the kids out. Despite it being a wonderful loving environment Wolf still couldn’t read and we were getting some pressure to have him tested for learning disabilities. The owner of the school told us she believed he was ADD. She actually told us that she would bet her life on it. I know her intention was to help. I believe this woman to be a wonderful caring person with only the best interest of the kids in her care at heart. It wasn’t just Wolfgang and his reading though. We just didn’t agree with her perspective so we left. The cost had become unmanageable in addition.

We spent the next six months schooling-at-home and Wolfgang picked up extra lessons at Sylvan Learning Center. The following school year we signed them up at Christian school around the corner from our home. It was much more affordable but still a stretch financially. The kids spent three years there.

One night after the kids when to bed I sat down and started flipping through Wolfgang’s fifth grade science book. The book talked about the *real* existence of dragons, that dinosaurs lived at the same time as humans and a lot more stuff I didn’t agree with…at all. (Please, I mean no offence if these are your beliefs.)

I know. I know. I should have realized we were sending them to a Christian school and neither Jeff or I were Christian, right? Well, yeah to some degree. But the reality is we didn’t think there would be anything taught to our kids that we would have any kind of problem with. And it’s not that we had a *problem8 with it. I’m open to my kids being exposed to most any veiwpoint/information/philosophy. In fact I love it. It prompts the most wonderful conversations.The thing that got me thinking was…should I be forcing them to *learn* this stuff. Stuff that I disagree completely with. Stuff they didn’t even agree with. Should force my child to take time out of their life to memorize, write about and get tested on something that I truly believe is misinformation?

I came to understand I would probably feel this way no matter where I sent them to school. There were not any options for complete choice. I looked into other schools both public and private. I even snagged a summer job (paying next to nothing but with the option of free tuition down the road) at a fantastic country day/prep school in the area. But finally concluded the only way for my children to have the freedom to learn what *they* wanted in a manner that worked for them would be to have them be home with me. I could then *teach* them what they needed…and do it in a shorter amount of time than any classroom. Then they could spend the rest of their time playing and being kids.

We took the leap and kept the kids home. We started much more school-at-home like but really turned more and more in the direction of child-led learning, until finally more recently we are comfortable with the unschooling label. This is our fifth year and I’m am thrilled with how we evolved into unschooling. I only wish we had found this way of life so many years ago. It would have been wonderful to not have to deprogram ourselves and have just started out this way. Then again maybe this is *exactly* what needed to happen. We needed to live this way to understand and appreciate it all the more.

I no longer subscribe to the idea that if you do not *make* children do stuff they won’t do it. Sure, some things they won’t but there are things *I* don’t do…that I should. Isn’t that true of all of us? Do you eat right all the time? Do you finish all the projects you start? Do you exercise as much as you should? Do you write to your family often?

I don’t make my kids write. I don’t make my kids read. I don’t really make my kids do anything.

My daughter writes. She loves writing so much she is planning on writing a blog. She reads for pleasure on her own. ALL of my kids read for pleasure. We don’t make them read. My kids have an true interest in how our country works. How laws are made and enforced. They can interact with children of all ages. They create so much…videos…drawings….writing….sculpture….all of their own free will.

When I was a kid. I read early. I was a good reader. I don’t remember *not* knowing how to read. My mother says the daycare workers taught me. I remember just knowing how. Why is it by the time I reached jr high school I had NO desire to read anything. I did not read a single required reading book in all of high school. Not one. I passed (barely) not because I cheated (because I didn’t) but because I paid attention during discussions…I even participated in discussions about books I’d never read. I didn’t regain my love for reading until I was 20 and had the freedom to read whatever the hell I wanted.

Writing was like that for me too. I loved writing but I hated the criticism. My mother was always giving me a hard time about spelling and the teachers just forced so much specific writing…reports…book reports…essays on books…etc. The most writing I ever remember doing in my school years was my junior year, I think. I had a teacher I barely remember but what he did was offer extra credit for every page of writing you did. He didn’t read any of it. All you had to do was bring in the pages and show him the writing…they could be notes to friends for all he cared. I must have written a couple of books worth of text that year.

A short time after we started homeschooling I decided to take this approach with my kids. Zoe has filled journals with her writing. No her grammar isn’t perfect and she often makes spelling errors and more. But she expresses herself through writing, I know many adults who can’t do that.

This unschooling thing is pretty cool and she is going to be just fine, in the *real* world because she lives in it every day. When we get the page all set up…I’ll be sure to share it.

Peace,
Kelly

I don’t often have writer’s block. I really can’t think of any time in my entire life that I was actually at a loss for words, at least not written word. I often would choose not to write, like a paper for school or something of that nature. The problem I most often encounter is overload, inspirational overload. I feel like I my output it akin to a fire hose but is forced out of something the size of a stirring straw. It’s maddening sometimes really. The ideas, words and such flow but often end up getting bottlenecked.

It’s not that I don’t know how to express myself. It’s the time restriction. I’m not just talking about prioritizing. If I was awake every minute of every day with no distractions, no responsibility, nothing whatsoever else to do…I would still not be able to keep up with all of my ideas. It’s that bad or it’s that good, depending on which perspective you take.

It’s always been like this for me. Quite literally for as long as I can remember. When I was maybe 10 or 11 years old I watched an interview with some New York Times Best Selling Author. The interviewer asked the author, What do you plan on writing next?.

I’ll never forget his response. I have no idea! When I write a book that’s all I think about. I can’t imagine that I’ll ever come up with another story to tell. I feel just lucky to have come up with the few I have. I would give anything to be able to just come up with idea after idea.

I’ll never forget because it was one of those moments, you know, the ones that help you to realize how different people are. The ones which demonstrate so clearly that not everyone thinks exactly like you. I remember feeling, damn…you can have my curse. Because when I was younger most of the time that is what it felt like for me. These floods of ideas, inspiration, thoughts were all so overwhelming. I often found my output of expression just jamming up altogether. I would just decided not to write, draw or otherwise create because I knew I was never going to be able to finish it all.

I saw my ideas much like the spiders in the Harry Potter story. You know, Aragon and all the offspring…multiplying steadily and ready to suck out my life essence then devour me whole I didn’t hurry and get off my ass and do something about it.

The beauty is now, I’ve matured. I don’t need to write every single blog entry I hear in my head. I don’t need to make every movie I see play out in my brain. I don’t need to take every picture of every minute of every day. I don’t need to act on every single bit of inspiration I receive. I understand not only is it okay, but it’s necessary to let some of that inspiration just remain a glimpse. It’s okay for those little spiders to just walk by me. I don’t need to get caught up in their web and be frightened.

Now when a spider comes along, I let him sit right down beside me and I don’t run away…sometimes I’ll even snap his picture.

Peace,
Kelly

It’s a challenge to acknowledge such things. It’s like the serenity prayer, you know the one about accepting the things you can change and the things you can’t…and understanding the difference.

There are so many things in life with which we have no direct control over. The past is one of those things. It’s probably the hardest thing I struggle with. I want to understand. I want to know what I missed out on. I want information. As a result of Jeff’s affairs, it is the single most difficult part of our reconciliation. My accepting that I may never have *all* the information and just when I think I’ve come to accept it. I get sideswiped with a rush of emotion, visions, questions and all that crap.

Over the last year I have gotten better and better at managing those rushes. Working hard to regulate the emotions best I can but I often find myself wondering what am I to do when the rush is so strong I can’t manage any kind of regulation? When other factors interfere beyond the typical daily healing and/or life.

I think I have the answer.

Focus on regulating the behavior. Regulating your actions. Your reactions.

Allow yourself to feel the emotion. Don’t punish yourself for it, acknowledge it’s presence, spend just a moment there then let it pass. Like Jack, on LOST. Let yourself be afraid.

Your past won’t change. Your present needn’t change. You future is all change.

I look forward to watching my future evolve. My children will grow. I will make new friends. My relationships will evolve. I will create many things. I will witness much beauty. All those things will come to pass. For now I’m comfortable with knowing I can’t change the past. I acknowledge the floods of emotion my memories drag me through, while working to focus on my reactions to them.

And my present, I’m just happy and grateful for that.

Peace,
Kelly

Last night my birthday evening went pretty darn well. After we left Barnes and Noble we headed over to McDonald’s. I realize your thinking…hey wait a minute they’re all vegetarian and Kelly is vegan…why on earth would they be going to Micky D’s?

Well, the free WiFi and a quiet corner of course. We don’t have the money to spend on a movie. We don’t have Internet or even cable at home right now. We just can’t afford it and we are still planning on doing some traveling soon if *something* decides to go our way. Simplifying our lives as we have been doing doesn’t really include cable and Internet at this point. Although…it does make things a little more complex…and a little less simplified when we *need* something online and have to go somewhere to get access.

The thing is really you don’t need to pay for Internet. There is so much free WiFi available out there.

Well anyway…Jeff, the kids and I love LOST. And while we were at Barnes and Noble we realized Tuesday night’s LOST would be available online. When we stayed at my aunt’s house the other night Jeff fell asleep while the kids and I watched last week’s episode. So, while we were at Barnes and Noble he watched the episode with a pair of headphones. The thing is that isn’t really the place to watch something like that without headphones. There are just too many people around and even though it’s not a library it would be kind of rude to turn on the sound.

The McDonald’s nearby is a pretty big one and as long as I can remember the place is always empty. The drive-thru is nearly always packed but inside just doesn’t get much traffic. So we decided to head over and give it a try.

Yep, the place was empty.

We set up the computer. Jeff bought fountain drinks for the kids and apple pies all around (apparently there is no dairy in these things!). And we sat and watched LOST together. Sure it wasn’t perfect. The first half hour of the show took about an hour to get through, with buffering and getting booted off here and there. The second half went much smoother but by no means was it perfect. Other than we were there with each other.

I really love LOST. There is so much depth and mystery. Since we watch it now as a family we spend a lot of time talking about the meaning of life, good, evil, indifference, apathy, religion, the bible, eastern thought, gifts, people, choices, free will and all that other philosophical stuff I love so much.

Now that is a perfect way to spend a birthday.

They say there are stages to grief. A process to mourning.

Maybe for some people.

I think it’s all an individual process. If there are stages we all go through them at a different pace and each person may get stuck in one or more of the stages or even cycle back and forth between them.

Then there is the complication that we still have to interact with the others…in the emotionally unstable state….and often the others are also grieving.

Then there are all the other variables. How old was the person? Was the death unexpected? Was someone at fault? Was it an accident? Was it just nature? Did they have a good life? Were they a good person? Did you have things unresolved? Did you feel good about the relationship you had with the person passing? And just sooooo many more things….more questions….more variables….

I feel we all just grieve in our own way, at our own pace and with our own various emotions. All we can do is walk through it at attempt to be as compassionate as we can to everyone else around us…who are all just trying to walk through to get through themselves.

For me writing has been the focus. I can’t stop. The words are just flowing through me. Its like a never ending stream of consciousness…floating in at a steady pace…it’s all I can do to get it out as fast as it is pouring in.

We found a good use for one of the pieces of the heart wood. I feel so good about it.

It will be the center of a birdhouse urn for Grampy. Jeff is making it with Grampa Ernie…right now…as I type this…

It’s going to be beautiful.

LOVE LOVE LOVE

peace,
Kelly

It was a good day. Jeff, the kids and I went to one of our weekly homeschool gatherings. Zoe came home from a three day visit with Nana and Pepere. We were gifted two half gallons of raw organic cow’s milk which Jeff turned into a yummy soft cheese.

The next morning Jeff and I had plans to go fix a roof, nothing big just a small job for a friend that would help us pay for some life essentials.

We finished off the evening drinking Jeff’s fresh lemonade, eating homemade bread and watching the extras on the Last Samurai DVD. It prompted a great family conversation about movies, story adaptations, historical context and accuracy and gave us all a little inspiration for later research.

Knowing we needed to get up early and run out to do the roof job, Jeff and I decided to go to bed uncharacteristically early. We had one of those perfect off to dreamland talks, complete with giggles and sighs.

The last words I heard before I drifted off to sleep were I love you so much, Kelly. You mean the world to me, thank-you for being my friend.

I am so grateful for those words. I am so grateful for those words. I am so grateful for those words. They helped provide me with the strength to make it through the next day 48 hours.

I rarely have our phone next to the bed at night. It is rarely charged and we generally don’t get a strong enough signal to receive calls at home. But this night the phone was charged, the signal was strong and the phone sat on our bedside table, only inches from my pillow.
Ring ring ring

I woke with a start and fumbled around for the phone. The brightness of the screen was glaring. I had to squint to read it.

Why is she calling me? It was my mother she never calls this late. Wait what time is it? I felt like I had been asleep for hours it had to be close to midnight or later. What could possibly …

Her tone was matter of fact. Grampy was in the hospital. She informed me of the events leading up to the hospital but all I managed to absorb was…Grampy – hospital – ambulance – she had called Linda, Ellen and Donna – Donna not be able to drive – come to hospital – call Donna first.

What’s going on? Jeff inquired. You going to fill me in?

Just wait. It was my mother. Grampy is in the hospital and I have to call Donna. I might have to go get her.

Why?

I can’t remember any of what she said. I – I just have to call Donna. I’ll fill you in after.

Are you going?

Please, Jeff I’ll fill you in I just have to call Donna. I don’t know what is going on.

I caught a glimpse of the time. It was 11:30. She would never call this late. It must be serious, I thought.

Andy answered the phone when I called. I offered to go pick up Donna and drive her to the hospital. He told me not to bother because she would be fine. She was drinking a cup of coffee and she would want to have her own car anyway. Are you sure? I really don’t mind coming up to get her. Again he assured me she would be just fine and I should just meet her at the hospital.

Do you want me to go?

Hold on! I snipped at him, took a breath and finished. Let me call my mother back first. I don’t know what’s going on yet.

Okay, just tell me what you want me to do.

I really didn’t have an answer for him. I was having a hard time wrapping my brain around the idea that this might be a - we *need* to go situation. I called mom back.

I’ll be there in a little bit. Okay? Bye.

So, do you want me to come?

I still don’t know. I don’t know what to do. Let me go check on the kids.

Zoe was still up reading, The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. I shared with her what little I knew. She asked, Do you want me to come with you?

Do you want to come with me?

Yes. I’d rather go with you and know what’s going on than sit here and have to wait to find out what is up with Grampy.

Okay then. I would love your company.

I walked back into my bedroom. I wanted to crawl back under the covers all cozy and warm with Jeff. I didn’t. I got dressed. Zoe poked her little head in the doorway, Griffin and Wolfgang want to come too. Is that okay?

Wait, how do you know that? Did you talk to them?

Yes, I told them.

Jeff sat up and started getting ready himself. Well, I’d say we are all going then. The boys poked their heads in the doorway and not more than 20 minutes later we were all in the car on our way to see Grampy at the hospital.

Grampy is 84, a really young 84. I remember him showing me a printout of his test results from a physical once. The doctor had written - Great!! – in red ink at the top with a crescent drawn under the dots to look like a smiley face. He carried it around like he was a kid and had just aced a test and wanted to share the results with everyone. She told me people half my age would be thrilled to see results like this!

He walks daily, chases squirrels, laughs heartily and never ever sits still. In my entire life the thing I remember him sitting still for the longest was my father’s memorial service. I still have the handkerchief he gave me that day. I’m sure there were other occasions (funerals, weddings, christenings) but that is the one that stands out to me personally.

There was really no reason for him to come to my father’s service. There was no love loss between the two of them. My father had gotten my mother pregnant when she was just a teenager and left her but not because inflicting a great deal of pain and heartache for years.

Grampy, didn’t go to that service for himself. He went for me. He went to show me he loved me. He went to show me that I had other fathers and he was one that would always be there to support me. All I had to do was turn and see him there. That remains in my mind as one of the kindest things he ever did for me.

A few years ago Grampy had some routine blood work done at a physical. It showed he had an elevated white blood count. There were no other symptoms or any kind of complications. He was offered some testing help to try and figure out the cause of the elevated levels. One of the tests was a bone marrow biopsy. He went ahead with the testing. It was relatively uneventful. They found nothing of serious concern and were able to rule out leukemia.

They continued to monitor the blood work for the next few years but remained a background curiosity as he still had not other troubling symptoms or problems.

With the more serious and only potentially life threatening cause ruled out. There was little need to probe further into it. They decided to just wait and see how things unfolded and continuing to monitor the blood cell levels through the routine testing.

Then his red blood count rose too. He still had no other symptoms to speak of but he and the doctor decided together to do another bone marrow biopsy. The other one had gone fine, there was no reason to think this time would be anything different.

His wife, Barbara wasn’t feeling well so he told her to stay home and rest while he went in to have the treatment. He drove into Dover by himself. Everything went just fine. He smiled, joked and told them he needed to stop at the grocery store on the way home. Then he waved to the doctor and headed home.

On the drive home and after his stop at the grocery store he experienced a sudden pain and intense nauseous. He pulled over and he sat in the car for a short while in an effort to regroup then continued the drive home.

When he got home the pain was excruciating. Barbara called the doctor’s office and they suggested Tylenol for the pain and a prescription for the nausea which they figured was caused by the pain. She was told not to leave Grampy alone. She called my mother and asked her to pick up the prescription for the nausea medication.

In the meantime Grampy’s pain was increasing. Barbara called and asked a neighbor who is a nurse to come over and help her decided what to do with him. And by the time my mother arrived with the medication it was pretty clear to all of them that he needed immediate medical attention.

They called an ambulance.

A few hours later hours later I found myself standing in a hospital room waiting for my aunts Linda and Donna arrive. I played catch up with my mother, Barbara and the doctors while Jeff and the kids sat in the ER waiting room.

Grampy wasn’t coherent at all. He was sleeping, snoring loudly with his mouth wide open. I was grateful his breaths were so loud. He seemed so tiny under those covers. He was being given fluids, pain meds and medication to raise his blood pressure which had dropped dangerously low. The doctors were doing their best to get him stabilized enough to move him upstairs to the Intensive Care Unit.

He was in critical condition. He was bleeding internally. The assumption was that bleeding had something to do with the bone marrow test but they weren’t entirely sure. For the time being they were waiting and hoping the bleeding would stop on its own. The options available for finding the source of the bleeding were not good and the means of stopping it if they did find it posed even more troublesome questions. Would he need surgery? Would he be strong enough for surgery?

Donna and Linda arrived not too long after I did. The doctors brought them up to speed. Time was surreal; both whizzing by at lightning speed and ticking away slowly at a maddening pace.

My Grandfather, Donald Patrick Fitzmaurice, had four daughters. My mother, Ann, is the oldest. Donna, who is a year younger, comes next. Then there is an eight year gap to Linda. One year after her comes the youngest, Ellen, who is 10 years younger than my mother. They had two pairs, Ann and Donna then eight years later Linda and Ellen.

Now here is the odd part, eight years after Ellen was born my mother got pregnant, at 18. I was born when the younger pair were nine and ten. My mother was unmarried and my father played little part in my daily life. As an infant my mother and I actually lived with her parents for a short time until we moved to public housing about four miles away.

My grandparents watched me while my mother worked. We ate dinner at their kitchen table nearly every weekday evening. Grampy who worked at the Portsmouth Naval Shipyard helped my mother enter the Apprenticeship program at the yard.

When I was five years old my mother became deathly ill with pneumonia and I went to stay with Nana and Grampy. I just spent so much time with the both of them they became my second (and stable) set of parents. Linda and Ellen were my older sisters. I became the fifth Fitzmaurice girl.

The doctors told us they wanted to insert a catheter. We could stay in the room if we wanted but we decided to all leave the room. While we were in the hall the doctor gathered us together to discuss the unthinkable.

I’m sorry, but I have to ask you about his wishes. Do you know if he has a DNR?

We had only just got to the hospital couple of hours ago. How could this be happening so fast? Why was this even being discussed?

He has a living will. It’s at home… Barbara’s voice quivered as she spoke.

My Nana passed away at 56 years old from breast cancer. My mother and I had recently moved into a trailer and my mother was dating and it was serious. Ellen was off at college and Linda was living at home but working multiple jobs and going to college. I spent all my summer days at the house with Grampy. He would pick black raspberries from the bushes in the backyard and make us muffins every morning. A sucker for anything sweet we called him the Cookie Monster.

Grampy and I played cards. We talked. We played with the neighborhood cat, whom we affectionately called One-Eyed Jack. We watched TV. I went on errands with him. We spent a lot of time together, just the two of us. I will be forever grateful for that time.

He wasn’t always happy. He took Nana’s death hard. He often talked of a neighborhood couple who died shortly after each other. That is the way to go a broken heart in his sleep he would tell me, I wish that would just happen to me.

No! Don’t talk like that. You know how sad we all are without Nana? We would be that much more lost without you.

I like to think being around helped keep Grampy in the present and kept the daydreaming of death to a minimum. Maybe not so much my words, but having me there every day reminding him he had family that would be crushed without him. Physically keeping him company when Linda wasn’t home and nobody else was around, helping to ward off the loneliness.

Finally with some prodding, from many people that cared, Grampy started dating. I was so happy because was so sad without Nana in many ways. He had so much love to give he needed a partner to share that love with. We all wanted to see him happy again. I wanted to see him happy again.

Enter Barbara the wonderful caring woman he fell in love with. She had two daughters of her own between the ages of Ellen and I. Barbara and Grampy married and with that union he gained two more daughters.

The younger of Barbara’s daughter Anne moved into the house. I was a teenager by this point and deep into my own teen-angst-rebellion. I spent little time at the house. I spent little time with any of my family really. Regardless I knew I could always count on Grampy’s help and support. He always gave support with compassion and guidance but never judgment. On more than one occasion I called him for a ride out of a bad situation, when I didn’t feel comfortable calling anyone else. He always dropped whatever he was doing to come and take care of me.

I can go get the paperwork if you need it.

No, that will be alright. You told us that is really enough…

It was clear this nightmare was real and serious. He was in critical condition and the next 24 hours were very important.

Grampy had bled so much internally the blood was pooling in his abdomen and putting pressure on his organs. A vascular surgeon was called in to give us his take on Grampy’s condition. Was there anything he could do?

It’s a tough situation. We could do… he explained there were a few options but none of them really any better than waiting and literally everything was a gamble. What we would normally do would be a blood scan but you just don’t do that in the middle of the night, here. Maybe if we were in Boston…

He gave us another option that involved injecting a dye in attempt to find where the bleeding was coming from. The problem with this procedure was his records indicated he was allergic to iodine, although nobody knew what kind of an allergy it was.

Barbara thought she recalled him getting a small rash after having an area cleaned for drawing blood. That was good news. If it was only a small topical allergy we might not have to worry about injecting the dye.

If the allergy was more serious, the dye could cause kidney failure and there was no guarantee they could stop the bleeding even if they found the source. At the same time if we didn’t do anything pocket of pooled blood and the pressure it was putting on his organs could cause his kidneys to fail anyway.

You are between a rock and a hard place. There is always the chance that he will stop bleeding on his own and begin to recover.

We talked. We called Ellen. We talked more. There was so much information to process and seemingly no time to do it in.

The doctors came out and let us know they were going to move him upstairs to the Critical Care Unit. The kids would have an opportunity to go in and see him once he was settled in his room. Jeff headed up with the kids and the rest of us followed Grampy and his team.

We set up camp in the Critical Care Unit waiting room we wouldn’t end up leaving for 31 hours.

Barbara was a perfect match for Grampy. She shared his inquisitive and sometimes adventurous spirit. They went to dances together. They shared a love of books. Grampy loved sweets and baked goods, Barbara cooking them. Their interests complimented each other. She loves to garden and Grampy loved bugs.

The last few years he signed up to help tag Monarch Butterflies. He caught them after they hatched from cocoons around their home in North Berwick, Maine. He would then affix a little circular sticker to the wing, log them then free them for their journey south. Scientists would use the data to track Monarch migration patterns.

Last year the kids found three moths. Two were huge, a Cecropia and a Lunar Moth. We froze the moths with had planned to give them to Grampy as a gift. It turned out to be one of those things that never quite worked out the way we’d hope.

It’s easier said than done isn’t it? Yeah, I know. But it’s an important thing to master or at least get a good handle on.

There are many manifestations to which you can apply this principle. Some areas will be easier than others and different for each individual. I’m going to share with you the areas I think I’ve made the most progress in, first and toward the end of the entry I’ll share with you the areas I really need to work on.

The biggest area I’ve had personal success with the concept is with food. I remember when I was a kid I tied so much emotion and importance into getting what I wanted and what I thought I deserved that I didn’t give much thought to what was healthy for me. Actually I did but it was on an entirely different level. If it was bad for me it was good to eat.

I lived on whole milk, mayonnaise (I often ate this smeared on iceberg lettuce – as my mom insisted I not eat it by the spoonful), brown sugar toast, potatoes with lots of butter, bacon, pancakes and the list goes on. I didn’t eat enough to get huge. Even when I decided to go vegetarian, I stuck with the crap foods. I spent years as a pizzatarian…eating only Papa Ginos, Taco Bell, Burger King French Fries and Dr. Pepper. I loved the crap food. The good stuff was just well…certainly not…good!

After I had kids I started to take a look at what I was eating but I didn’t make a lot of changes. I focused on making sure my kids ate well. Which in some ways forced me to eat better but I still didn’t like it. I was carrying around this idea, this stupid idea, that stuff that was bad for me was really the good stuff.

Finally a few years ago, I began researching the source of my food choices. I focused on where my food came from and how destructive my food choices really were. How with the dairy I was eating I was supporting the veal industry. How with all the eggs I was eating I was supporting mass cruelty on a scale I really never imagined. On the advice of Jewel I decided to no longer lend my strength to that which I wished to be free from. I chose to be vegan. With that decision I have learned to love, really love, healthier foods. I look forward to Hummus Wraps, Salads, Raw Fruit and Unsweetened Soy Green Tea Lattes. I don’t eat exclusively *good for me* foods. However, I do think about all the things I eat.

Every time I eat I raw sunflower seeds, mushrooms, salad greens, nutritional yeast, or drink tea…I revel in the positive stuff eating those foods mean. It means I’m nourishing my body. It means I’m having less of an impact on the earth. It means I’m reducing suffering. Add the fact that I keep my portion sizes reasonable I’m also reducing waste. All these things, since I consciously give consideration to, allow me to fully revel in the positive and I enjoy the food so much more.

Food is just one small area. Imagine if you took this perspective and applied it to more serious areas of your life? Think about your marriage, work or your kids. Do you focus on the good stuff or do you find yourself bitching to friends about all the problems? I think we are all guilty at times of this. When you bitch about something you are reveling in it. When you speak honestly and but kindly about your children, husband and work you are reveling in the positive. It’s that simple. You still may feel negative at times but if you accept things ebb and flow and you can affect the direction through your own positive intent. Your right thought. Your right speak. Your right action.

The area I need to work harder on applying this is cleaning. I get very frustrated. I do enjoy cleaning. I revel in the outcome of cleaning but I have a hard time focusing positively on it enough to motivate. I’ll work on it and let you know how it goes.

What about you? What areas of life to you revel in the good? And where do you revel in the bad? What steps have you taken to effect positive change in YOU?

Today I feel hopeless about men. No, not today. No, not all men. Okay maybe I’m just being melodramatic because I’m not really all that hopeless either. Nor can I be about such things when I’m raising two sons.

But it does feel a bit like I should be. Maybe I’m not reading the signs, you know the ones that are all around me. It really feels like so many men are just cheaters and they want it both ways. They want to do whatever it is they want and yet they still want and/or expect their women to be completely faithful and devoted…never so much as looking at another man.

Again. I don’t really feel this way. Well, obviously I do a little. There is the piece of me the little devil on the shoulder or the grumpy voice in my head that tells me all the reasons I shouldn’t trust people. Why I shouldn’t trust anyone, including my own perceptions.

Then there is the part of me that trusts everyone. The part of me that sees the good in men and all humanity. The little voice in my head and the little angel on my shoulder that assure me every one has good intentions. Each person is doing the best they can. Every person on earth, wants to be good.

Reality is it’s all of those things. Men are bad and men are good. Men have amazing-wonderful-inspirational-positive-loving intent and men have cruel-insidious-thoughtless-sad-negative-crushing intent and all the in between. Everyone once in a while I need to remind myself of that. Especially when it comes to strangers…or maybe especially when it comes to people we love and know?

The truth is we never know, for sure, why someone chooses to behave in a certain way. And we shouldn’t assume we do. We shouldn’t assume ill-intent. The reality is most people don’t think their every behavior through (never mind their words) so there may be no intent at all. Not everyone is mindful of their thoughts, words and actions. Are you? I’m not despite a huge effort to be. If we assume ill-intent then we put ourselves constantly on the defensive. We set ourselves up to be adversarial. We put ourselves in *fight* mode.

I think it is equally misguided to assume positive intent. When we do so we set ourselves up to be hurt and we are not being truthful to our own reality. We also end up seeing a very distorted and unreal picture of what the world is. There are people that *want* to hurt others. There are people who don’t want to hurt others but are compelled to do so.

I’m not going to spend my time racing down the dark street looking for some artificial light. I’m going to walk tentatively but confidently in the dark with only the light of the stars and my own senses as my guide. I’m going to focus on accepting that I don’t know what other people intentions are. I don’t have the answers but I don’t *need* all the answers.

All I can do is focus on my own thoughts, motivations, behaviors and choices. I can focus on keeping them positive. I can be open and have compassion…and I can try to have an understanding…but I will never *know exactly* what it is like to be in another’s shoes. And that includes all the men that made me feel *hopeless* — It’s not hopeless…it’s inspiring when we think about the complex reality of it.

Peace,
Kelly