Ten Years Down the Road

Ten years ago tonight I took my last drink of alcohol. I had no idea of what was to follow but know that, at that time, I did not want to live.

My life was broken and filled with shame and the best solution that I could come up with was to kill myself but was too chicken to do so. And so I had to find a way to live. Lonely, defiant, defensive, full of fear and broken dreams, was my existence. Married and divorced three times, abandoned children, lost opportunities, retired on disability due to an injury and everything I tried failed.

Every time I thought about my children, I tried to drink away the pain. I couldn't look the world in the eye and so tried to hate it. I tried to pretend that I didn't need anyone, not knowing all of the lies that I told myself. In my 40's I was still reacting like an abused child - my father was in every set of eyes that looked upon me.

But then the day came when the hatred for myself was all that existed and somehow I got the idea to try sobriety. Divine intervention definitely but I didn't know that then. Silently I begged people for help but in my eyes was hatred and distrust. I couldn't ask for the help but hoped that they would come anyway. On the kitchen floor, clutching the counter's edge, sobbing and screaming, "HELP," I made it through one day without a drink. The beer called out to me from behind the refrigerator door and I begged for more help. Rockets going off inside of my brain, sort of like a missile blasting through a crooked path and barely missing its target. I didn't know if the next blast would be my last. The couch and darkness my best friend. Unable to eat, sleep, talk, bathe, I kept screaming for help. Slowly the rockets eased up and the pain lessened and my cries grew to hours apart. When I'd gone 30 days without a drink, I was filled with amazement. No one that watched me thought that I'd make it.

My life felt broken on the day that I quit drinking but without my crutches to numb my brain, everything fell apart. I couldn't work, pay my bills, carry on a conversation or tell you how I felt. All of these realities fed into the shame and guilt that was already present. Feelings of worthlessness ran deep and were covered up by angry fear. Somehow, I put one foot in front of the other and continued down the road. I had no other options, no place left to go and so I kept returning.

A lot of life has happened in the past ten years, injuries, surgeries, near death, homeless, carless, penniless, friendless, but none of it was worth drinking over. I trudged along. Because I put too much emphasis on what others think of me, I hit another bottom this year when a group of people spread rumors about me. Through the absolute pain and devastation, I found some new strength but it took a lot of work to get there. In one year I've probably grown up more than all the previous ones of my entire life.

Tomorrow many friends are coming together to help me celebrate this ten year milestone. That is a true miracle. From there to here, every step of the journey has been worth it. I am grateful for the life I have today.

Wild Days

The first time that my phone rang this morning, it was 5:50. The racket from my non-conventional telephone tone tore me from my dreams and put me in a place that is unfamiliar to my quiet days. Usually, the only real racket that fills my space is that which is created in my mind.

By the time that I knew that the noise was my phone, which was in the other room, and that it was not yet 6 a.m., it had stopped. Another several minutes passed before I rose to check on the caller's ID, for fear there could be a family emergency. A familiar Seattle number that called me last summer when a female voice wept about how sorry she was, how it was all pride and ego and then said, "I like it when you are dominant over me..." The yuck of that call stays with me, even though I've moved on spiritually and emotionally. I knew who the caller was then and I know who it was today.

Sixty-one minutes later the same number appears on the face of my iPhone. I answer. A familiar voice is doing a low volume, somewhat garbled, bad imitation of a Chinese woman. I've heard this before, when we were face to face. I repeat, "hello." The voice gets a little louder and a little faster. There is giggling. Finally, I repeat the same question that I asked last summer and do so in about the same tone of voice, only louder, "Who is this?" Cackling, more, hung up.

It would be great to write that this had no effect on me and that it was not difficult to push myself out of the door and to where I was going in the first place. My gut told me what I'd find there and it was correct. I'm not going to give this my entire day. I know what to do.

I told my closest friend and she was right when saying that this thing needs to be put away. I try my best but some of the players keep playing. I'm living my life, doing well, happy and smiling. None of that means that everything went away, but that I've done the work to get past it and continue do so on the days when the pain is bad. I'm not consistent. I get feeling great and forget about what got me there. I am human.

For whatever reason that I get under people's skin, they need to get over it and start looking at their own actions. Just as I need to look at my own, no matter what anyone is saying or doing. No matter what! When I don't stay on my own side of the street, my mind starts tearing others apart and I'm not living life to the fullest.

It does not matter that I was harmed by gossip and slander, only that I move on with my life and do what is required of me. It is my job to find happiness regardless of what anyone else does. And, I don't have to use the actions of a few as an excuse to spread my discontent upon the rest. The calls may have disturbed me but I'm happy and smiling and so, everything is okay.

On a Friday

The sun is peaking through bright cumulus clouds on a snowless February day in North Idaho. I wake up to unusual light coming through the blinds that cover my bedroom window, my head is pounding and my body groggy with sleep. I do not expect sunshine today, I expected it last week.

My body moves slowly, somewhat lopsided, to the back door where I reach for a dog cookie and let El Salto out into the back yard. The sun is fairly dancing off of water drops on nearby trees. I wanted grey today - an excuse to stay inside and work at the computer. An excuse to write. I fall back into bed, hoping for more sleep but it does not come.

The dog has gone out once but wants to do so again, preferably at the end of a leash. I'll walk him first, I think, and then go shoot something but don't know what. Moose would be nice but I don't know where they are. I don't know where the waterfalls are either. Actually, I'd promised myself to conserve on gas and not go shooting much until things turned into spring. My glads are already rising out of the heavy mulch of pine straw and leaves. There are buds on the trees. If we don't get a frost, we will have an early spring. If it freezes, we won't have the beautiful wild flowers that have graced us during the past two springs that I've been back home.

Coffee on, dishes washed, I sit down to the computer but nothing in the cyber world. I pick up the newspaper and head into the small room at the center of my house. Because of recent gun violence, a couple of downtown bars are going to scan their patrons for metal. The other bars don't think it is necessary. What is needed is for the police and the district attorney to charge people who are carrying weapons while under the influence. Then, maybe people will think twice about irresponsible gun use. But because the law isn't doing their job, the bars will use metal detectors. Glad that I no longer haunt those places.

Other stuff in the news. I looked for more information on the little chocolate event that is happening tonight but couldn't find it. I am interested in free chocolate - it will be my only Valentines. I'd like to photograph people eating chocolate - why does this interest me. I come across a first person piece written by one of our reporters as a tribute to J.D. Why does this excite me so? I read from the first word to the last, following the fast-paced stream of consciousness, unreliable narrative bringing Holden Caulfield to Coeur d'Alene. The racing thoughts of a disgruntled mind. Why am I so excited? I write a comment on the website. I hesitate when doing this because, for the most part, I try to keep my opinions to myself. That is new behavior for me but when moving back here it occurred to me that someday I might want to do something, career wise, in this town. I don't want to piss people off yet. Oops, I've already done that but then just my presence and my style has a way of doing that. People need to mind their own business.

I've gone through ten disks trying to burn one for the anorexic woman that I shot this past week. She'd asked me to do this awhile back but I'd declined. But, then, this class assignment came up and she appeared, thinner than before, and so it all worked out. I loved being creative and working with a willing subject. Anyway, she wants a CD to show her dad and brother but they won't burn. I'm frustrated and throwing them across the living room. The dog now has his cedar bed beneath his big doghouse, otherwise known as the gazebo. He's been inside all winter. I still haven't taken a shower. My body is stuck in this chair behind this computer screen, where patches of blue sky are capturing the corner of my eye. It feels good to write.

The insanity of the mind of an anorexic is hard for anyone who hasn't experienced it, to understand. I've been there, trying to control my world through limiting what I eat. One slice of bread, a quarter teaspoon of mustard, two thin slices of turkey from the deli. Nibble, make it last. The slower I eat, the quicker I can feel it in my belly. I am in control. No bananas because they are a whole 120 calories and I'd rather spend that allowance on something more tasty. My bones jutting from beneath skin and I feel fat. Five more pounds, I tell myself. I weigh myself countless times a day. Some how, some way, I moved past the insanity but know it can return at any moment. I haven't owned a scale in years and NEVER weigh myself. My back is to the doctor's scale and they don't tell me how much I weigh. Some how, the need to control my world becomes less and less. The mind of an anorexic plays tricks on its person. But if you don't know, you might think that they can change it around at any moment. This is not true - it takes years of vigilance - and one never completely rids themselves of the insanity.

El Salto keeps lifting his head and looking in the window. I still haven't showered and still don't know where I want to shoot. I only know that this is another day to enjoy.

Emotion Fueled Writing

I am writing to purge the excess baggage from my mind. I will write for ten minutes, give or take, without stopping to think, and allowing my mind to loosen and the unbridled thoughts and emotions to surface. When I am done, I will breathe deeply, correct spelling and press "Publish Post." This is what I want to do today. So, get ready, I am about to begin writing on the topic of "Emotion fueled writing."

I find that my best writing comes when I am filled with emotion, mostly of angst. This fact has bothered me for quite some time because I don't want to live my life in chaos and turmoil just to have something interesting to type into the computer. I want to learn how to access the emotion without being in that space. Otherwise, I'm nothing but a moody writer.

I've entered into this life of living. So much going on and while it is exciting, exhilarating and wonderful, it is exhausting. I hate when the red line comes beneath a word and I can't figure out how to spell it correctly. That red line ruins my flow because that is all I see, even while more and more words pile into this box that is lined in grey. I want to stop and go to spell check, which really irritates me because I should know how to spell better than what is going on now. Once upon a time I could spell, but there are still dead spaces in my brain, left over from the infection. There are still things that I don't see correctly. I can hear a name and forget it in the next moment. My eye itches and it is driving me crazy, along with my dry lips. Oh, I'm going to have to stop and rub my eye...

Now some red HTML message popped up. Leave me alone. I began taking a photojournalism course. At first I felt excited to be doing something so positive for my future. And then the course began and I am supposed to go around and take photos of strangers and get their names and ages. I love taking pics of people who don't know that I'm doing it. I love getting them just as they are, in that one moment. I don't love spoiling the moment by asking them questions. I can ask afterwards but doing so beforehand spoils the reality of what I'm capturing. Plus, I'm shy. Not shy when I have a job title that gives me a legitimate reason for taking a photo, but yeah, I am. And then we get this assignment to do a portrait of someone. I get afraid that I won't do the assignment to my potential. My mind is blocked for good ideas. I don't know anyone who is interesting, at least my mind can't remember. I struggle and my gut begins to hurt. I tell myself that I can't do it. I am ready to defeat myself one more time. The ideas start coming to me and soon I'm inundated with possibilities. The world opens up. But I want to do something different, that I've never tried before. Some studio work with lights. I've never used anything other than available light, or, on occasion, a flash. I like nature lighting. In my bag of tricks I discover a lens that would be perfect. I didn't know that I had a perfect lens, that is weird. I had two of them. I don't know how many lenses I have. Several months ago a young woman asked me to photograph her anorexia. I know that she also suffers from OCD. I declined at the time but then, there she was, in front of me. I asked her if she still wanted to do it. I am now in love with studio work.

In the meantime an advertisement pops up and tells me there is a free writing workshop at the library. Now, two nights a week are busy past my bedtime. I am exhausted, mostly from excitement. I have not functioned in a long time and it will take persistence to keep going.

My back is still killing me from a fall on the rocks and that adds to my exhaustion. And now I want to go to school and watch Beth present the owls to the children. I want to hear someone in North Idaho talk about how to act in nature - how to treat the wildlife. I need to be reminded for myself because those creatures excite the senses right out of me. And I want to photograph the horse program for foster children. I want to work with the horses. If I keep moving forward, slowly, maybe my energy will come back.

My ten minutes is probably up but there is more I want to write. Something about being even. Happy but not elated, no sadness, or very little. Questions pop into my head because I'm not afraid - afraid of being dumb. I can carry on a conversation. I can advocate for myself. Suddenly I don't take any crap from people. Now it is okay for people to think or say what they want to about me because I don't take it personally. This is all weird for me. I feel somewhat whole. I can say what is on my mind without hurting someone. I can apologize when I'm wrong, regardless of what the other person might of done. You are right, I'm too old to be celebrating these victories but better to get there than to never make it all.

Someone told me that my smiles were pissing them off. I just keep smiling. People tell me how pretty I am and how my smile lights up a room. They've told me those things my whole life but I couldn't smile. Today I see no reason not to. Now, I'm done.

Healing

In order to heal, a body needs to rest. The same is true for the mind. I am exhausted.

Emotionally and physically I feel better than in the past six months but the recent healing of old wounds has left me drained. No one knows when, or if, these things will ever happen and there is no way to be fully prepared. God just sorta steps in one day and says, "okay, time to play grown up and be accountable," and it is our job to be spiritually fit enough to kiss and make-up.

Anyone who has been following my previous blog for the past twelve months, knows that the personal challenges have been huge. I had a relationship fall apart and bystanders decided to make it their business. I was slandered, gossiped about, ostracized, alienated and driven insane. Some people wanted me to leave town, others probably wanted me to drink, maybe they even fantasized my killing of myself. I don't know the absolute truth of any of those things but do know that I gave away my power and nearly allowed myself to be driven away, to drink or to die. My head got to talking and wouldn't shut up. I never thought that things would get better. I couldn't understand why these things were happening and tried to hold onto the idea that there was some sort of divine plan in place and that there were lessons for me to learn. The whole thing was hell and I could not see a way out.

I didn't know anything to do, but to keep moving forward. The whole thing consumed me and it grew larger with each passing day. My reputation was ruined. People were told that I was a predator and there were stories that I was plotting to murder someone. I never knew everything that was being said because I, like everyone else, only heard it through the grapevine. What I heard had no basis in reality and so nothing computed. I do know that there are some mean and sick people in the world who need to pick apart the lives of others so that they never have to look at themselves. But I couldn't see the truth in that statement while in the middle of it all. Every day there was one more person who was no longer speaking to me and I would chase through my brain, searching for what I'd done to them. Total sickness on my part, for me to take any of this in a personal way.

My own healing has come slowly. My head quit telling me bad stories about myself and it quit worrying about what those others thought about me. I learned about who I am and why certain things came into my life. I learned to be honest with myself. That last part was huge because no matter how I'd try before, there was some sort of blockage in my brain and it wouldn't allow me the truth. I wanted the truth but could not get there. I rode the roller coaster for month, up, down and twisted around. I thought that if those people would behave better, I would get better.

Those people did not start behaving better until I retrieved my power, put my head up for real and began smiling once more. I was powerless over their actions and they are powerless over my new found strength, confidence and love for myself. No one but myself can take that goodness from me.

And then, out of the blue, one of the women made amends to me. She looked me straight in the eye and said, "You have been harmed." Not that I didn't know this but it was the perfect thing for her to say. Her own shame and quilt has put her into a spiral of hell and now she can't see the way out. And so I offered her my experience, strength and hope of sticking around and walking through. I described how relieved people are to see me with my head up and to no longer be sparring with some of the people. Her and her family, me and my family and the community can now heal and move forward.

The power and the grace of God is alive and well in my life and, as usual, his plan was perfectly executed.