Journey Unexpected

The Gift of Dreams

2010-03-18T18:16:00.000-07:00

Have you ever had a dream that lingered in your memory? I had always thought dreams were interesting because of the variety of people that appeared in them, some I recognized from my life and others I'd never seen or met before. I also thought that the places in my dreams were a bit unusual because even the familiar places looked somehow different when they appeared in the dreams. I had never given too much thought to any of these, until an image from a recent dream kept popping up at unexpected times, and I would wonder why it kept coming back. I tried remembering the dream, but I struggled with making sense out of it. I was surprised then to be in the middle of a therapy session, and out of nowhere came a clear image from that exact dream. I intuitively knew the image had arrived so vividly during the session so that I would have the chance to discuss it with my therapist, and I am grateful that I trusted my feeling enough to mention the image.

Since this was my first venture into dreams, I wasn't sure what anything meant and it all seemed like a silly story with me playing the main character. The "story" was about me being in a large metropolitan city, marching in a parade while holding an enormous sparkling crystal at the top of a very long pole. The crystal was in the bright sunlight, shining with such an intense sparkle that it brought shouts of joy and admiration at the glistening sight. I remember looking up at this spectacular vision of pure beauty, but then it gently went into the gloomy shadow of a tall building, taking all its splendor away. That's where the dream ended.

My therapist was interested in knowing details about the type of building that was casting the shadow on my crystal, but since I had absolutely no clue what kind of building it was other than being quite large, she instructed me to close my eyes and visually return to that place. It didn't take long for me to revisit the main street with the parade going strongly. As my beautiful crystal gradually went into the darkness I turned to locate the building and was amazed to see a huge cathedral casting that dark dreary shadow. Realizing that it was a church that took away the beauty made me swallow hard as the impact of that revelation slapped me in the gut!

The light bulb of understanding was burning brightly, and in that second of realization it was as though the floodgates of my awareness opened. I grasped that the crystal was a symbol for my relationship with God, while the image of the shadow brought clarity to the internal struggle I had been having about the Catholic Church. It seemed as though there were so many rules in the Church that brought a darkness in the form of judgment, negativity, power and control. For me this inner struggle began as I journeyed through the process of having my first marriage annulled by the Church. Remember theMarriage Tribunal of priests who had the power to decide if Jim and I could be married in the eyes of the Church? We had to wait years for their decision, and it wasn't until a monsignor at our church finally stepped forward and told my mom and dad that he would take on the responsibility of blessing our marriage even though the verdict had not yet been pronounced. At the time I wondered why there needed to be all the drama of waiting and uncertainty, when in the end the monsignor was able to handle it in a loving and compassionate manner. Our parish priest had also informed us that our diocese did not allow couples to be married in an outdoor ceremony even though it was allowed in the neighboring diocese...so many rules.

I walked away from these experiences with questions about all the inconsistencies that seemed to exist in the Church, but I never dealt with those concerns. It wasn't until that dream that I understood how I was truly feeling, and the darkness of the shadow summed it up quite well. I walked away from that therapy session with another loose thread that would be woven into the fabric of my life...the gift of dreams and the insights they can offer.

What a Ride!

2010-02-26T17:48:00.000-08:00

I have fond memories of my initial "taste" of mindfulness. I was literally introduced to the joy of eating an orange in a mindful manner. I thought of all the oranges I had consumed over the years, and not once had I considered how the orange skin felt as I peeled it or how it popped and shot juice throughout my mouth as I bit into it. After that one experience I certainly wanted to learn more.

As I read Thich Nhat Hanh describing how he would choose a day each week to be immersed in mindfulness, I was captivated with figuring out how to make that happen in my life. It didn't take me long to realize that all I needed was the commitment to actually do it! My biggest obstacle was reigning in my need to control. Maybe because this was my maiden voyage into a new realm of discovery, or maybe because I was always more comfortable when I felt in control. For whatever reason, I went into overdrive in getting my mind solidly in control of the whole situation. I even went so far as to consider which day of the week would work best into my schedule...STOP! Okay, it took me some time before I finally realized that control was in no way needed.

The very next day I set off on my day of exploration into mindfulness. I was astonished with the time it took to merely get out of bed and brush my teeth...so many textures to feel, so many sounds to hear, so many tastes to experience, and that's just brushing my teeth! I was really getting into this intensified sense of awareness...even making out my grocery shopping list gave me an opportunity to feel the consistency of the pen against my skin as well as the sensation as the tip of the pen began gliding smoothly across the surface of the paper. I was so caught up in this new experience that I almost forgot about the list I was writing. And that is exactly the one challenge I had with mindfulness immersion...staying focused on the task that needed to be completed.

As I climbed into the car to drive to the grocery store, my senses were alive with an attentive awareness that was intoxicating. I smile with the memory of me sitting alone in the garage in my car, filled with the sensations of my body sliding into the seat, retrieving my keys from my purse, placing the key into the ignition...the soft coolness of the leather seat, the rattling of the keys along with the hard metallic feel of each key. By the time I finally backed the car into the street, this heightened attentiveness of me in the world brought a fullness to my whole being. In fact, I was so consumed with savoring each part of this fullness that I was four blocks past the grocery store before I even realized it! Now that was a ride!

Threads of Expansion

2010-02-15T10:23:00.000-08:00

Since the bandages on my back needed to be changed daily, it gave me a chance each day to ponder how, in the span of six months, I had two totally different experiences in the way my body healed. What had made the difference? Did my lack of active participation affect the degree to which the wound was repaired? Did inviting divine participation affect the outcome? Honestly, it was a challenge to wrap my head around this new way of looking at healing. Throughout those summer weeks I continued to process my expanding perceptions!

It was also during this year that I investigated different ways to calm my mind and body. After reading Dr. Herbert Benson's book The Relaxation Response I began taking a structured quiet time each day for about fifteen to twenty minutes. During these times I would concentrate only on my breathing, counting each complete breath as "one." I liked this because with the repetition of "one" I was better able to just breath without my mind becoming involved in keeping count. Believe me, my mind had more than a bit of difficulty giving up control. Many random thoughts would enter my mind, so with each one I would gently set it aside and return to my breathing. I remember after several times of practicing this type of relaxation, I realized that I was no longer aware of my breath...it was as though I had reached a place where my mind and body were suspended in silence and a deep sense of peace wrapped me in stillness. I must admit that initially this new feeling scared me, so I took one very deep breath to reassure myself that I was fine. Another new experience for me to process...exhilarating for sure, and yet a bit scary at the same time.

In the midst of this introspective period, another book crossed my path that encouraged me to expand my awareness in still another area of living...The Miracle of Mindfulness by Thich Nhat Hanh. I can honestly admit that I had never considered the concept of mindfulness, and yet after being exposed to it, I could only wonder how I had become so occupied in busyness, making me unavailable to a different way of living. I thought about my initial attempts to quiet my mind and the difficulty I had calming the constant activity. After reading this book I came to a profound self-realization...mind full, most definitely yes...mindful, most definitely no! Oh, my journey with mindfulness had just begun.

The Opposite of Wonder and Delight

2010-02-04T20:32:00.000-08:00

Three short months later at my regular check-up with the dermatologist, he biopsied a mole that I had not even seen because it was out of sight, right below my neck at the top of my back. The test indicated that further work was needed, so I set up yet another trip to the Procedure Room. After having the positive experience with the healing of my leg, what could ever keep me from embracing the same strategy following this new procedure? The sad answer is that I was too busy to even think about the quality of healing. This procedure was done in May, which was the busiest time of the year for me. I was busy planning a little reading party, busy making homemade awards for each student, busy doing report cards, busy packing up the countless books and supplies in preparation for summer cleaning...so much busyness, so little healing.

I vividly remember the sound of my doctor's voice as he removed all the stitches, only to watch the wound completely open up again. Here was my confident doctor standing in disbelief while trying to find the words to explain to me what had just happened. "Oh my," was repeated two or three times, followed by a heavy sigh. Since I could not see what he was looking at, I was more that a bit worried by this unusual tone. He proceeded to calmly explain that since the entire wound had opened, it would have to slowly heal from within. I wasn't exactly sure what that meant or how long it would take. I felt numb as I listened to all the instructions he laid out for us to follow over the next several weeks. It was at that point that my head became a bobble head, randomly nodding up and down as his explanation became more and more involved. Now it was my turn to say, "Oh my!"

As I left the clinic, my arms were filled with all the supplies needed to help the wound begin to gradually close. It's difficult to explain what was going through my head on the short trip home. I felt a mixture of guilt, shame, fear and uncertainty...guilt for being so self-absorbed in school related matters that I had no energy or thought left to give to my healing; shame for treating my body in such an unlovin way, fear about the possibility of it not healing properly; uncertainty as to why this would be happening to me. By the time I had arrived home, I was physically and emotionally drained.

Jessica was home from college for summer break, so I carefully explained to her and Jim all the details of how they would need to help with the special technique for cleaning the area and changing the bandages. After telling them that I had not seen it, they were both curious to see what I was talking about. I will never forget the silence that hung in the air as they cautiously inspected the wound. I knew it was serious when Jessica looked like she had just seen a scary reptile, and the only thing she said was, "Mom, are you sure the doctor said it was safe for you to come home?"

Loose Threads

2010-01-31T15:33:00.000-08:00

Choosing a title for this stage of my journey, I had the visual of a handful of loose threads hanging freely in the air while waiting to be woven into the fiber of my life. I lived through these threads/experiences, considering them to be unrelated to each other...until years later when I saw how they had individually played a part in helping create the person I am today.

The first occurrence brings me back to the Procedure Room where my dad peeked in to help give me the courage to face the task ahead of me. I think I described it as an icky procedure that involved a fine set of stitches on the inside of my leg, right at the bend of the knee. My doctor explained that this was an especially tricky place for stitches due to the constant bending, so he asked me to carefully limit my knee movement. Being a first grade teacher meant that I was active throughout the day, so I knew that would be a nearly impossible task.

I had recently been a silent participant in a group discussion about our ability to quiet the body and invite God's energy to help in the healing process. I wasn't able to contribute to the conversation because it was a new idea for me and I first needed to process all this information before I could begin to formulate a comment. Now two weeks later, I was literally being given the opportunity to put this into practice. Each day I would sit on my sofa, taking a few deep cleansing breaths while inviting healing energy to surround and penetrate the wound. I was easily able to hold my hand over the bandages,visualizing this energy as a warm glowing light. I would quietly sit like this for a few short minutes and then whisper a prayer of gratitude. I could repeat this several times throughout each day since it took hardly any time to do.

When I returned to have the stitches removed, my doctor was delighted with how well the wound had healed. He wondered what I had done and commented that I could give lessons to his other patients on how to heal. Sitting there on the examination table I felt a bit awkward and unsure of what to say to him...this was a whole new way for me to think about healing. So after making small talk, I headed home with a feeling of wonder and delight and of course lots and lots of questions to ponder. How I wish I had again been able to touch into the same sense of wonder and delight just a few short months later...

Seeds of Change

2010-01-21T18:28:00.000-08:00

As I reached my late thirties and early forties I felt the "nudge"to become more introspective, hopefully bringing some clarity to myself and my world. I had already encountered one divorce, two bouts with cancer and a clinical depression. I tried not to let these circumstances define me, but I admit that at times I felt like the poster child for When Bad Things Happen to Good People. I considered myself a well-behaved, respectable person, but as I grew up I wondered what I had done to deserve all these challenges. I began to ask God's help in understanding my life and my purpose for being here. Would I ever be able to go through life without the need for my daily companion, fear?

Saving money for a retreat with Francis was a two-year project, so when I finally achieved my goal, I was surprisingly nervous about spending an entire week with this woman. I was well aware of the deeply hidden feelings that she was able to bring forth during the brief weekend retreats in Milwaukee, so I was worried about what may come to the surface when I had more concentrated time with her. Even though the unknown aspect of this retreat was scary, I knew I was hungry for exactly this level of communication. I remembered how quickly I had trusted Francis when meeting her, and how refreshed my heart felt after each encounter. Yes, this retreat was exactly what I needed, so I put my uncertainties aside and headed out to California with confidence and just a wee bit of trepidation.

The best way to sum up my week in Idyllwild is to explain how I spent my last day. When I met with Francis that afternoon I brought along a small pad of paper and pen, quite seriously asking her to describe how I could recreate this peacefully quiet environment back in Madison. Now as I reflect back on that request, I smile and gently shake my head back and forth while feeling a mild case of embarrassment. Did I really believe Francis could give a detailed list of what needed to be altered in my life in order to achieve a retreat-like atmosphere? Oh my, I truly did begin at the beginning...but know that the seeds of change were planted during that stay.

Slow and Steady

2010-01-08T11:10:00.000-08:00

It amazed me how life continued to move forward all around me even though the bottom of my world had fallen out from under me! Leaving the hospital, I noticed that everyone around me seemed to be engaged in the mundane realities of their world. How could they be going on their merry way when my treasured dad had just died?? I felt physically and emotionally drained, as though I was draped with the weight of grief and loss. Viewing life through that veil of sadness made everything around me seem surreal. Seeing his obituary in the paper was like getting a slug in my gut! There it was--a photo I had taken of him just a year earlier, now published with his obituary...surreal I tell you, surreal!

Moving forward was a slow process, but I found returning to my daily routine was one way of easing the bottomless taste of loss. I was also gifted with a simple way to honor my dad: a wind chime. He and I shared a love of them, and years earlier I'd purchased a beautifully-tuned one in Door County for him to hang on his patio. On the day of his funeral I stood alone on that patio whispering a gentle prayer of good-bye, when suddenly the wind chime rang. With no hint of breeze in the heat of that August air, this totally shocked me, momentarily taking my breath away, but leaving in its place a sweeping sense of peace. I felt like I had been in communication with Dad! Imagine my joy when a few days later at Wild Birds Unlimited I spotted a miniature replica of that exact wind chime! I purchased it, took it home to hang from a cupboard handle in our kitchen. Opening that door and hearing the soft ring of the chime provided a tangible remembrance of my love for him, and each time I would gently say, "Hi Popsi." It was a tender yet profound way of helping me heal in my grieving process.

With our home selling so quickly, we needed to move out two months before our new home was completed. That would have been a major nightmare if it hadn't been for Mom's generous offer to have us stay in the condo with her. This meant we would be with her for the first Thanksgiving and Christmas since Dad's death. Even though her three bedroom condo was busting at the seams with the addition of us and our two dog entourage, we shared a special holiday season filled with an abundance of emotional release and support...quite beautiful and exactly what I needed on my road to living with the loss of a deeply loved man.

A Man of Substance

2009-12-16T10:28:00.000-08:00

Saying goodbye to my dad was one tough challenge I had never wanted to experience...a dark hole of loss and a deep farewell. How could I let go of someone I loved so greatly, admired so completely and connected with so deeply? When I was debating a possible job change, he was the one who taught me that nothing is forever...don't be afraid of trying something new just because you may not like it. He was a role model of living with courage, dignity and faith while dealing with the harsh realities that life can send your way. This man was more than just a dad, he had become a major presence in my adult life. For so many years our family had lived with the fallout of his alcoholism, so when he began to live a life of sobriety, it was a joy getting to know the new person that continued to emerge!

When he was newly sober, I had lived in constant fear of Dad returning to what had become his common pattern over the years, a life revolving around alcohol. I couldn't wrap my head around the idea of him being exposed to alcohol and not giving into his temptation to have just one drink. But as he steadily worked the AA program, he gradually evolved into a man who was comfortable in his own skin. Once I asked how he could go with Mom to parties where alcohol was being served, and he calmly responded, "I just explain that I am allergic to alcohol." I was thrown by the sheer simplicity of his reply, yet this sense of simplicity surrounded his days as he began to grow and change before our eyes. You need to understand that during this time it felt as though I was being introduced to the dad I had never met! Gone were the days of closed drapes that would prevent neighbors seeing him stumbling or falling as he maneuvered his way through the house...gone were the days of trying to help by sharing Mom's unbelievable stress of raising five children while trying everything humanly possible to control her husband's drinking...gone were the days of my brothers, sisters and me having to finally accept and live with the ugly reality that we also had no control over Dad's drinking yet we often had to witness the sometimes scary consequences of that drinking. Looking back, I think we had lived so many years feeling incomplete, that when the sense of unity and togetherness arrived, we each in our own quiet way rejoiced! We were whole again! Having a sober dad felt as though the windows of our life had been swung open and the fresh air of newness was in abundance! It was a new day in our family and we all celebrated this rebirth. Now do you more fully understand the depth of the love we share?

My dad had been an ever-present support on my journey with melanoma...so many follow-up "procedures" to wade through, with not one of them being a pleasant experience. He was not only physically present during these visits, but he was also emotionally supportive. I remember on one these visits, Dad appeared in the hall outside the Procedure Room where I was being prepped for yet another particularly icky surgery that was needed to remove all the affected tissue beneath a mole. The procedure would be long, involved and quite painful. "I'm looking for my daughter's room." I immediately recognized his voice, but that was all I heard before he calmly poked his head into the room and said, "Are you doing okay honey? Would you like me to stay in here with you?" His voice of strength and loving concern was all I needed to feel safe and better equipped to handle the next hours. How could I possibly let go of this man?

Of course I knew he had been dealing with a gradual weakening over the late spring months, but I was in denial about the possible seriousness of his condition until hearing the diagnosis of lung cancer. Even then my sister and I convinced ourselves that post-surgery he would need some extra TLC to help him fully recover, and we were more than willing to provide whatever was necessary to help in this healing. We were not yet willing or able to let go of this man we loved so completely. I know my heart was not prepared for this deep good-bye, so swallowing the bitter pill of this reality was more than I could initially handle. Jessica took a week away from her new job to spend time with the grandpa that had shared his house and heart in the early years of her life...such a close bond...such a heartfelt farewell.

One August morning Dad's doctor called us into the dreaded Conference Room. Gathering in this room was a certain sign that some serious news was about to be given, and this time was no different. He explained that there was no more they could do to help Dad...they had done everything in their power to heal him, and now it was up to us to formulate a new plan for his future care. I remember words like "nursing home" and "home health care" fill the air, before the final words of "possible months of painful lingering ahead"...who would ever want to hear those words, yet here they were hanging in the room around us! It didn't take Mom long before announcing, "I still believe in a miracle." Our miracle arrived the next afternoon when Dad died of a heart attack. No long months of suffering! Safe Home Dad!!

What a Year!

2009-11-27T12:43:00.000-08:00

The year Jessica graduated from college was a year filled with the highest of highs and the lowest of lows, all wrapped up in a twelve month span. At the beginning of that year Jim and I began searching for a new house, a task that delighted me with the endless possibilities. Our first house had been easy to pick out and purchase since it was my first home purchase and I entered into that process without any specific ideas of my wants and needs. Now fourteen years later, I entered the same process with a very detailed list along with a bundle of anticipatory delight and energy. Do you remember the picture of Jim with his gigantic tomato plants? Well, that may give you a sense of where he would have chosen to live...in the country. There I was with my city girl attitude and my city girl tastes, and what's a city girl to do when she's married to a vegetable growing wanna be farmer? Right again...compromise.

After many weeks of unsuccessful house searching, we found a half acre lot where we could get all of our wants and needs met by having a house built for us. Everything was going so smoothly, even getting our house sold without even listing it. We were riding on a natural high, choosing a builder and a house plan while also making plans to attend Jessica's graduation. It was during this time that my dad's health began to slowly fade, and although he didn't talk about it much, he finally admitted that he was not even feeling strong enough to make the trip to D.C. One thing I knew was that there were very few things that would keep Dad away from Jessica's graduation, so in the back of my mind I wondered if he was downplaying the seriousness of the weakness. He continued to assure us that he was beginning to feel a bit stronger.

Jessica's graduation was an adventure. Jim drove our car out so that he could bring Jessica and all of her belongings back home. Mary had never flown, so she and I flew out to the festivities. She entertained everyone around her with stories about her niece graduating, her dad who had to stay home, her mom who was riding out in a van with her other sister, her excitement about flying for the first time, and the delicious chocolate chip cookies that were served...boundless, pure enthusiasm! After landing, we picked up our bags and headed to the CUA campus, but not before Mary loudly proclaimed to anyone within earshot that the weather was way too cold for her comfort. Yes, the weather was more than unseasonably cold for the end of May, but the rest of us just accepted this fact, added another layer, and moved on with our celebration...not Mary! To this very day, when asked about Jessica's graduation, she will eventually find a spot in the discussion to bring up the cold weather.

Watching Jessica graduate from college was an emotional experience. I felt a deep joy as she received her diploma, witnessing first hand the incredible woman she was becoming. It marked the time I was seeing her as a true adult, a young woman capable of going out into the world, well prepared to continue her journey. Within a couple of weeks she was set to begin her dream job of driving the weinermobile for one year. After training, she was heading to the east coast all set to begin the adventure of a lifetime, totally unaware of what was about to turn the highest of highs into the lowest of lows.

51 Photo Gallery #3

2009-11-23T14:51:00.000-08:00

Here I am back again with another assortment of family pictures. It has been a wonderfully rewarding experience to go through the hundreds of photos that we have collected over the years. So many memories! We have such a large collection of pictures because Jim always travels to family events with his camera, and now I'm thankful for having them because they help breathe life into my story. I also like sharing photos because they help to give you a more complete glimpse into the everyday experiences that have enriched my days. So sit back and enjoy another trip down memory lane. But before we get started I have another little question for my family to consider...who is the visitor in the above group picture? If you need a clue, call Steve in Florida because I'm pretty sure he'll be the first one with the answer.

In our family it wouldn't be Christmas without the obligatory photo of the five kids with Mom and Dad. Isn't it fun to see the changes that occur throughout the years in physical traits, hair styles, and fashion sense or nonsense?

You can most likely tell how much I enjoy having plants in my house, and in our first home we had wonderful natural sunlight. I was able to have a wide variety of greenery and I took real advantage of the favorable conditions. Tyler and Muffles are my furry companions...what joy they brought to our lives! Muffles, the little one, was forever the hunter, but it was gentle Tyler who got nipped on his butt by a red-winged blackbird who thought he may have been invading her flying space.

Whenever we had family get-togethers I would also keep my camera ready to capture the cousins spending quality time. Do you like the country look going on in my house...who knew you could decorate your walls with cookie cutters?

Jessica teases me about looking like I'm talking whenever I have a picture taken. This is a perfect example...It seems that I'm mid-sentence in this photo. Oops! I'll have to work on a natural smile...

Another example of our Christmas wonderland. One year we secretly tape recorded all of us opening our presents and then later in the day we gathered to listen to all the conversations going on around the living room. How much silly fun can one family have together?

At times Mom would ask certain individuals to help prepare the meal...what a fine job Steve and Greg did on their contribution, and they seem proud of the finished product too.

My brothers and sisters each received a framed picture of Mom and Dad from their fiftieth wedding anniversary celebration. Being married to the photographer made gift giving easy that year.

Cousins stopping long enough for me to catch a quick picture. When you're cousins, age differences don't really matter...the important thing is to just enjoy each other.

Often our family clan would get together for Easter when Mom and Dad had returned from their annual winter getaway in Florida. Grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins, brothers, sisters and in-laws...who could ask for anything more? And don't forget the pets...

Each summer our entire family would rent three of these huge cabins in Northern Wisconsin. Two of them shared one roof and were connected by a door, so there were lots of go-betweens. Each cabin had two bedrooms, one enormous loft with several beds, living room, bathroom, and one kitchen. The following pictures are just a thumbnail sketch of our time together.

Mom and Dad relaxing on one of the beautiful sofas. We certainly didn't need fancy furniture to make us happy and content. Relax and talk...ahhhhh

One of our famous sayings has been, "Move your meat, lose your seat." Well, here's Mary being creative when Jim tried to take over the sofa after she moved her "meat".

We tried many different poses whenever a few of the cousins were together. We wouldn't need to include everyone, just the ones who happened to be together at the moment.

A quick pic before these three raced to the water. Vacations are the best!

No, Kathie is not really sleeping, but she's fair game for these two sly tricksters. Everybody knows their favorite vacation song is, "Take me out to the...underwear." Believe me when I tell you it sounds best when sung in the shower!!

Okay, I think this is the best photo op! Thanks to Mother Nature...you couldn't create such a perfect set-up.

An afternoon hike with two of my favorite people. I love the way Mary is hooking her arm through mine...such gentle affection.

Vote for the most creative silly face. Be sure to look closely or you may miss some of the more subtle details...like turning your eyelids inside out. Looking at that particular picture reminds me that he is now the father of two young sons. He has so much talent to pass on to the new generation.

Mary likes to read the daily sports page, scoping out her favorite teams and players. She was so engrossed that she didn't realize I was taking her picture...now that's concentration! Note the country decorating going on behind her.

I think Jessica and I are blessed with sharing a relaxed relationship. We view the world through the same set of values...I treasure the time we spend together...she is easy to love!

I'm in mid-sentence again, but this time I'm probably singing the praises of Jessica because this was the night she was welcomed into National Honor Society, an honor that was well deserved.

Isn't this the silliest picture?? Jessica and I were having one of our nightly chats when all of a sudden our space was invaded by dogs, dogs, dogs. We always took Mom and Dad's dog while they were in Florida, so each winter Muffles and Tyler would happily welcome Willy into the fold. I hope you've already figured out that Jessica is totally pretending to be asleep...how could she possibly sleep while being part of a love sandwich?

It's easy to see that I had little trouble snuggling with Muffles while taking a wee bit of a rest. The chair I'm sleeping in was conducive to napping because it was so comfy and cozy, and the ottoman gave yummy support to my tired feet.

I don't know who looked more comfortable...Muffles or Jim. It's evident how easily Muffles was
able to conform to whatever space was available at the time.

Its always been easy to enjoy and appreciate Jim's silly side which he exhibits on a regular basis. His sense of humor and easy going attitude were two of the traits that appealed to me as soon as we met, and thirty three years later I continue to value them.

Here Jessica and I are at the Main Street Motel in Fish Creek. Door County holds a special place in my heart and the two of us would travel there as often as possible through the years. My parents were the ones who introduced me to the beauty of the area, and now I joke that it's part of my DNA.

Jessica offered to snow blow the driveway and sidewalk on a very windy day after a snowfall. She was completely covered with snow because Jim had set the discharge chute to blow into the wind and this was the outcome. I hope I had a cup of hot chocolate waiting for her.

When Jessica had her senior class picture taken, we used the opportunity to have a formal family photo session. We actually looked so formal and serious, probably due to the fact that it was our first family trip to a studio so everything felt a bit stiff, prim and proper...conventional as well as meticulously posed, and very far from natural. But I do need to admit that I liked the final product, so maybe prim and proper isn't so bad after all.

Jim had his first venture into growing tomatoes in the '80s and he was immediately hooked by the whole experience. He even built his own little lighted hothouse in our basement so he could plant the seeds in winter! Then in August he would can his own tomatoes!! I was beyond impressed by his over-the-top enthusiasm, and I absolutely loved eating the fruits of his labor. This is a picture I took of him in his tomato garden. Yes, those are actual plants that are way beyond his 6'3" height. I think secretly he would be extremely happy living on a farm and growing his own produce. Hey, maybe I could live in a condo in Door County and he could live on a farm...compromising can be tricky.

Our dogs wanted to show their loyal support for Jessica's choice of Catholic University.

I liked the way Jim set up this picture of Jessica and me standing in the Lincoln Memorial. It is the perfect way to capture us on our day of sightseeing in Washington because it shows the Washington Monument and the nation's capitol in the background. I remember it being hard to focus on the beauty of the city when I knew that within hours Jim and I would be heading back to Madison without Jessica in the backseat of our car...bittersweet memories.

I don't want to leave you with the impression that Jim was the only gardener in our family. Here is my specialty...flowers, flowers, flowers. I had four different flower gardens when we lived in this house and it provided me with my first experience of planning, digging, planting, tending and enjoying the beautiful boquets of homegrown flowers. I found it relaxing to dig in the earth for hours and hours. It was like a form of meditation for me and I thoroughly entered into the whole experience.

My dad and I shared a love of gardens. He had the most beautiful rose bushes that he loving tended for years, and although I was always a bit intimidated by the fragility of roses, I did inherit his interest in developing a garden filled with multiple colors, shapes and sizes throughout the growing season. We would go on hunting expeditions to our favorite nurseries, carefully picking and choosing just the right plants to add to our gardens. In this picture we are standing in front of Mom and Dad's condo in the spot he had chosen to use for his new garden...in fact this spot was one of the big selling points when he and my mom were looking at this condo.

We couldn't afford to fly Jessica home for Thanksgiving break, but she was able to come home for Christmas!! What a joy-filled time we had together...so much fun that it was difficult to have her leave again. In this picture I caught her as she was taking time to read and relax.

When Jessica returned home after her freshman year, we had the whole family meet her at the airport as a surprise. Her cousins even made big Welcome Home posters, and that's what you see her holding in the above photo. It was great to have her back for an entire summer!

Remember how I mentioned how Jim and I had more time to spend together? Well, here is one of the best times we had when we went exploring a back country road. We were bown away by the hidden beauty of this spot. Who knew you could find such a peaceful lake tucked far away from the crowds? We were glad Jim brought his tripod along so that he could set up the camera to take this little slice of heaven.

Yikes! I just realized that I'm wearing another skirt in this picture! It is really true that finding me in a skirt/dress is a rarity. I do remember liking that skirt because it was suede/leather and it made me feel quite special to be wearing such a fancy outfit.

On the University of Wisconsin campus there is this wonderful statue of Lincoln located at the top of Bascom Hill. We were walking past it and Jim thought it would be amusing to have his photo taken with Lincoln...and he was certainly correct! Doesn't it make you smile too?

Presenting the three sisters. If asked to describe love, I would simply show this photo. Life gave me this enormous gift...sisters. I know, I know, those who have been in my life forever can probably remember a time when I didn't always share a close, loving bond with my older sister, like the time she threw my clothes out of our upstairs bedroom window because I didn't put them away quickly enough, or the time she drew a line down the middle of our bed to indicate the exact area that belonged to her and the exact area that belonged to me. But all of those moments only added to the rich fabric of our relationship. If you happen to see my sister, you may want to ask her to share the story of mashed potatoes when I was a child...

We had just had breakfast at The Pancake House and since I had my camera, I felt it was a good opportunity to capture some of my favorite people...fair warning to those who are around me when I have my camera in hand.

Here are the cousins for one final shot. So you want to learn the secret behind this photo? All I can tell you is that after celebrating the fiftieth anniversary of my parents, one of the cousins went home to change before meeting back at the condo. Little did she know that we would be taking lots and lots of family photos, so she arrived wearing a pair of shorts...nice shorts, but still shorts. Jim, using one of his creative photograhy solutions, decided to place her in the back of any and all photos whenever possible. That way it would be really difficult to tell that she had changed out of her dressier clothes. And now, all these years later, the truth comes out...right Cindy?

I wanted to include this photo because I really, really like it...love abounds!

Having fun on a day of shopping with Jessica. We passed this stately lion and I just felt the need to have my picture taken with him. See, there's another reason you should always travel with a camera...you just never know when a photographic lion is going to appear.

Here is one proud dad. Jessica received a scholarship from Oscar Mayer and this was taken on the day the scholarship was awarded. I think Jim's smile says it all!

I thought it would be appropriate to end this Photo Gallery with our in-house photographer posing as a professional photographer.

A Wise Man's Advice

2009-11-17T13:50:00.000-08:00

I felt the person who could give me solid advice about the problems I was having with Jim's drinking was my dad. He had been a recovering alcoholic following the principles of AA for many years, and over those years he had successfully given counsel to many people. One thing I absolutely admired about my dad was the fact that he could listen with an open heart and only give advice when asked...extremely patient, wise and honest. I talked with Dad about my concerns and was pleased when he agreed to meet with both of us to openly discuss our thoughts and feelings about alcohol. The mere fact that Jim and I would be willing to enter into such a personal discussion in front of my dad tells you how safe we felt in his presence.

After giving Jim a chance to talk about his drinking habits and why or why not he thought these habits were a problem, Dad asked me to share why the drinking was a problem for me and the effect I felt it was having on our relationship. He gave both of us an ample opportunity to explain our feelings, and by the end we agreed he had a full understanding of why we were turning to him for help. In response, Dad shared his belief that if a person's drinking was causing a problem to anyone in that person's life, then that person's drinking was a problem. He went on to explain that most people thought that in order to be considered a person with a drinking problem you had to be an out-of-control drinker who had missed work, gotten fired, or experienced blackouts due to drinking, but he knew otherwise based on his own experiences with alcoholism. I was quite surprised by this profound wisdom delivered in such a simple package. After having time to process it for a few minutes, it made total sense...the essence of our situation presented in a straightforward and unpretentious manner. My dad, a man of few words, each of which he chose and constructed with exact precision. Does this give you insight into my dad and why we were comfortable and safe in approaching him for advice?

As we left our meeting, Jim and I were in agreement with the message that had been delivered to us that night. On the recommendation of Dad, we used this newly received idea/meaning as a foundation for our communication...and what discussions we had throughout the following days! That one session was the catalyst for a significant shift in our marriage.

One Tough Decision

2009-11-09T12:25:00.000-08:00

When Jim and I first met, I was aware that in social situations he would often drink more than I liked, but I knew that being the child of an alcoholic made me acutely aware of the drinking habits of people in my life. This sensitivity was something that I didn't choose to verbalize very often since I understood it was simply an issue that was rooted in my past experiences with my dad. It was an issue,though, that didn't disappear when my dad began his work with AA, on his path toward becoming a recovering alcoholic. Each time Jim would over-indulge I would get a huge knot in my stomach along with a fear that someday down the road he would lose his ability to control his alcohol consumption and eventually turn into an alcoholic. The mere thought of that future would make the hair on the back of my neck quiver.

It's hard for me to admit the ways I tried to control his drinking over the early years of our relationship, but I think it's important to be open and honest so that you can begin to realize the deep fear and eventual anger I felt toward this third party in our marriage. I remember feeling that I never wanted to go through what our family had experienced over the years of living with a practicing alcoholic. I needed to do everything in my power to prevent this from happening! I know now how ridiculously desperate that sounds, but that is exactly how desperate I was feeling during that time!

Jim was a wedding photographer when we met, so this meant that he would regularly work at a wedding on the weekends. Every wedding has a reception, and almost every reception has some type of alcohol...you can probably tell where I'm heading with this, right? That's correct...after the photographs were finished and all the obligations had been met, Jim would often be invited to stay for the end of the reception festivities, and usually that would include drinking. Oh yea, I believed that if I went to the weddings with him, then I would be able to control his alcohol intake. How silly was that? Sad but true. (Yes, Thom, that's how I ended up in your wedding photographs about ten years before even meeting you.) There were many weddings that I didn't attend with Jim, and on one of those occasions Jim called, inviting me to come and listen to the great band at the reception. Of course I went because then I could control, control, control...but by the time I appeared, Jim was already beyond any control I could offer. I arrived to see him dancing with one of the bridesmaids. I wish there was a word that could begin to describe how I sick I felt as I stood there in the darkened room, because using the words hurt and angry only describe the tip of my emotional response. Would I have had the same emotional response if he had not been drinking? I truly didn't know the answer to that question, but I gradually began to understand that his drinking was concerning me to the point of causing a problem in our relationship. I don't want to give the impression that he drank all the time because that is not true, but each time he did over-indulge, I had the same fear-based response. Eventually when Jessica was in college and Jim and I spent more time going to social events together, I knew that I had a decision to make. I either had to seek a solution for dealing with this third party in our marriage or I had to find a way of living with that reality...without letting it consume me and our relationship.

If At First You Don't Succeed...

2009-10-13T12:19:00.000-07:00

I learned firsthand the painful reality behind the term empty nest. I felt the intense emptiness for weeks after Jessica's departure, especially each day when getting home from school and not finding her there to talk...listen...and decompress from our day. Also after getting ready for bed we would often share a quieter time during which we would talk about anything and everything that was on our minds...these were especially treasured moments for me. There were many tears shed throughout those weeks because my sense of loss was profound. With the major changes in my role as a mother, I found I had more unscheduled time for myself, although it took me several weeks to be truly ready and open to the realities of what this change could mean, and how this time of transition and adjustment could offer me a variety of choices. There were all types of potential opportunities for me to ponder and the only stipulation was my degree of willingness to be open. Here was my chance to consider only those experiences that appealed to me. I remember thinking these endless possibilities must be the upside of the empty nest phenomenon...and I smiled.

I enrolled in a calligraphy class which quickly engaged my creative juices, I joined a Bible study group that Suzanne offered which fed my spiritual hunger, and I began to meditate which gave my overly active mind a chance to experience a new-found quiet. All in all I was experiencing life in a fresh, expansive way that tasted quite remarkable. Did I continue to miss Jessica's daily presence in my life? Absolutely! But I was gradually able to move toward a place of acceptance of this new and different phase in my life and thereby become open to the growth and change it offered me.

During this time I knew there was an area of my life due for a tune-up...our marriage. Since Jim and I then had the time, maybe we could both focus some of that time and energy on our relationship because merely sharing a physical space does not a marriage make. So many people described Jim as a "great guy" and that description was absolutely true. He was a good guy through and through, and I loved him dearly, but something that concerned me was the lack of quality time we spent together. We often chose to spend our free time in totally different ways, but it became my hope that we would find some mutually satisfying activities that we could enjoy doing together. To be fair, I must admit that this lack of quality togetherness bothered me much more that it bothered Jim. He felt we were spending quality time if we sat in the same room and watched an evening of TV together...me, not so much. I was hungry for something more, but I didn't know exactly what that meant or how to achieve it. As Jessica was growing up it seemed as though the time Jim and I spent with each other was usually for family-centered activities rather than just the two of us spending time as a couple. I had never been aware of this fact during that time, but believe me, it became clearly evident after Jessica went off to college! There was nothing like lots of available free time staring me in the face, and not being able to find a suitable way to spend time together, so we'd settle on going out for dinner...if only we could agree on a restaurant. Are you getting a sense of my struggle? Hindsight is wonderful because I am able to sit here over twenty years later and smile at our crude but terribly sincere attempts we both encountered along the way of discovering togetherness...

Stress Relief...Oh My!

2009-10-09T11:50:00.000-07:00

Have you ever been so tired that everything around you seemed funny? Well, that's exactly how Jim and I were feeling by the time we made it to Chicago. Emotionally drained and totally sleep deprived would be an accurate description of us in the early hours of that Sunday morning as we pulled into the gas station. Yes, the laughing started when we exited our car and froze our bums while attempting to fill the gas tank, but that was only the beginning of what turned into an uncontrollable scene that played out in the frigid air of the aptly named Windy City. No matter what we tried to say, we were not able to restrain our laughter...merely looking at each other sent us into a powerless mass of giggles. At one point Jim commented that the gas station attendant was going to think we were having trouble keeping our behavior under control because we were on drugs. Well, those words of warning certainly fell on deaf ears, while encouraging our creativity to run wild as we began constructing possible headlines for our local newspaper...First Grade School Teacher Arrested With Husband in Chicago on Possible Drug Abuse Charges! Just the thought of that headline did anything but rein in my hysterics. In fact, not only was I not laughing in a normal manner, but I was doubled over, letting out a snort that sounded a lot like a pig...oh my!

After making it safely back into our car, I had to admit that all the unleashed outpouring of silliness was exactly what I needed in order to shake off the emotional upheaval of the previous twenty-four hours. I felt like a dog who just had been given a bath and needed to shake free all the annoying leftover water dripping off its back. I was no longer burdened by the emotional release that had taken place within the confines of our car for the last fifteen hours.

When we finally made it home, we slept for the rest of the day. There was no way I could spend my first day of school exhausted, so sleep was a necessity. It felt strange that we didn't need to ask Jessica to turn down her music to help give us the quiet we needed. Instead, our house already seemed too quiet. Is that how our "empty nest" was going to sound without the activity and energy of a teenager? It was most definitely a time of transition in our marriage, and I wanted us to take this transition slowly, hoping that going slowly may take away some of the "sting" of loss and replace it with new possibilities for us to explore. Yikes! Jim and I having more one-on-one time together...oh my!

After the Goodbye

2009-10-01T17:33:00.000-07:00

The whirlwind trip of bringing Jessica to college had finally come to a poignant climax. With my school beginning on Monday I felt we should leave DC no later than Saturday night, even though I sincerely wanted to stay as long as possible before having to face the dreaded goodbye. When it came time for us to leave, the three of us headed down to our car for the initial phase of farewells. Jessica and I shared raw emotions of love and gratitude toward each other, while flavoring it with heartfelt tears and fond memories, so many memories over so many years together. This was quickly followed by an embrace hinting at the understanding that it would be several months before we would again share the same air...a hug that I wished could go on indefinitely, but since we all knew it was time for us to go, we shared on final group hug. In the meantime, through all of this emotional outpouring, Jim was able to remain calm, so at least one of us was capable of driving back to Wisconsin. I watched and waved as Jessica became a mere dot in the background of the CUA campus, and by that time I had quite simply melted into a puddle of seemingly endless sobs.

As we left Washington and throughout many of the seventeen hours traveling back home I continued sobbing, surprising even myself with the depth of sadness and loss that I felt. I needed to understand that there were two simple realities forming the foundation for my sense of loss and grief. First, my "little girl" and I were on the threshold of entering into a brand new phase of our relationship, a strangely different and totally unknown connection in which we would both participate as adults and secondly, from that day forward whenever Jessica would be at our home she would be a visitor. While watching my daughter as she had become that tiny dot, she had turned back to her dorm, entering it as a young adult who was independently living on her own in the great big world. I had comprehended this transition back in Madison as I had spent the previous year mentally preparing for her leaving, but living through the realism of this transition was especially more difficult for my heart to accept. This was a bitter pill of reality for me to swallow...indeed.

I was useless in the shared driving department because it seemed as though each time I would begin feeling peacefully calm, the tranquility would be abruptly interrupted by a flash of remembrance that would begin the flow of tears. There would be no advanced warning, simply heartrending sadness that had no boundaries. I don't think Jim had much fun on that trip home until we came to a truck stop in the Chicago area. You see, when we left Washington it was around eighty degrees so we were dressed for that weather. We had no clue that the Midwest was experiencing a sudden drop in temperature, down around forty degrees! Can you imagine our surprise when we exited the car to fill the tank with gas? We felt as though we were dressed for Florida and ended up in Alaska. With our lack of sleep along with all the emotions swirling around inside our car for the last fifteen hours, we both needed some comic relief, and this frigid weather provided the perfect humorous material. I thought Jim looked funny as he filled the gas tank because his whole body was shivering from standing outside in this ridiculous weather, and he was laughing at how equally silly I looked in my summer outfit... and that's how it all started.

A Difficult Goodbye

2009-09-24T11:50:00.000-07:00

The year of preparation definitely helped me get ready to set Jessica on the road to adulthood, but it didn't offer any ways to make this initial break achievable or even possible. If only my heart could absorb this growth and change that was about to occur. I never gave up...I kept processing this until the day we packed up our car and headed off to Catholic University of America in Washington, D.C. What a trip! We left at night, trying to avoid as much traffic as possible, and since this was in the time before GPS, we faithfully followed our trusty little map from AAA. The best thing I can say about our trip out to Washington was that it was uneventful...until it was time to actually drive in DC traffic. Oh my, nothing could have prepared us for the speed, disregard for rules of the road, and total chaos that is known as driving in Washington. I arrived at our country's capital feeling a bit like a fish out of water. I felt like such a Midwesterner! I truly wasn't accustomed to being surrounded by people moving at such a fast pace, but I was most definitely intrigued by the city. It had a wide diversity of nationalities as well as all that is entailed in being our nation's capital...so much to see and do and our time in this bustling city was so limited.

We stopped at a MacDonald's on the way to Jessica's dorm, and we were greeted as we got out of our car by a police officer who was wearing a bullet-proof vest and acting as an escort for people like us who were "new" to the neighborhood. He suggested that next time we may want to choose a different location for getting a meal. Now there's something I had never seen in Madison! Is this giving you an idea of why I felt like a fish out of water? Soon after that, we had to wait for a very l-o-n-g time in the hot sun for another police officer to arrive because we witnessed a car accident...remember the crazy driving I mentioned?

After finally getting Jessica settled into her new home, we became typical tourists as we went out for an entire day of sightseeing, taking in all the major highlights found throughout the city. We even went to the top of the Washington Monument where Jessica was able to point out the CUA campus far off in the distance. This was all a fun distraction, but in the corners of my mind I was keenly aware of the real reason for being in DC...we were there to transport our daughter to college, release this mature young lady from childhood, and set her free to continue her grown-up journey to adulthood. Those were some heavy duty responsibilities which would challenge me more than I could have ever imagined!

Patience

2009-09-17T16:38:00.000-07:00

When I returned to Madison I felt like I had a hangover. It was an emotional hangover filled with a heightened sense of excitement, disbelief and awe that remained with me for several days, making it a bit of a challenge to keep my mind focused. It was as though I understood that I had received an invitation to change, and I was wanting to set this change in motion immediately, even though I knew that realistically I was in no position to drop my daily commitments, pack my suitcase and head out to California. But in my heart I knew that I had met the woman who could be my respected, safe and treasured mentor...Francis, and that alone was intoxicating. Hey, maybe that's why I felt like I returned with a hangover.

During this period of waiting, I would smile as I recited my version of the prayer for gaining patience...Dear God, please grant me patience and I want it now! That sums up how I was feeling about needing to wait, save money and find the time in order to go on a week retreat with Francis. I also needed to accept that the timing wasn't wonderful since Jessica was looking into colleges, which meant that we would have four years of financial commitments. Paying college tuition could certainly affect my ability to put money aside in a retreat fund, but I was focused on saving money, no matter how small each contribution may be.

Jessica was in her senior year in high school, which was an interesting time for our family. She was very involved in student council and this commitment kept her busy and happy with all that she was able to accomplish. I was involved in preparing myself for her departure from home to college. The two of us had been a solidly connected duo for so many years and the thought of her leaving Madison for an indefinite period was beyond my comprehension. It literally took me the entire year to gradually process that this was a natural time for her to venture out on her own, as well as the natural time for me to willingly open my arms and send her off on her journey as an adult. Intellectually I understood this to be true, good and healthy, but in my heart I was sad and full of my own natural uncertainty about how my life would look and feel when she was far away in Washington D.C. I had difficulty envisioning my daily routine for the next year, a routine that would not include our time spent together at the end of each day sharing the highs and lows of our day. It was our nightly ritual, and one I treasured. So many other holes...so many questions. Who would be able to go clothes shopping with me and share an honest opinion? Who would go to Door County with me and enjoy doing all the things that we both considered fun? Who would sit and talk with me about everything and nothing at the same time?

I learned that growth and change can be quite painful, even knowing that this was the best time for us to naturally separate didn't lesson the degree of loss and pain.

Life-Changing Encounter

2009-09-13T12:32:00.000-07:00

The first little tear was easy to catch with a quick swish of my tongue, but the ones that quickly followed were a bit more difficult to sweep away because they flowed steadily as I sketched the image. Needless to say, I had no problem getting in touch with the emotions from the picture that had come, once the distractions of my mind were put to rest. Fear had no place in this experience! All the earlier clutter of thoughts, fears and judgements dissipated as soon as I was able to focus on the healing music and the gentle invitation that Francis dripped into my heart. All else fell away, except for the pesky tears that arrived in such abundance that I then had to involve the sleeve of my shirt to help capture them. At one point I did become aware of the reality of sobbing in front of the large number of bodies that surrounded me, but after taking a quick peek at them, I understood that they too had their own images to welcome.

I was carefully drawing the distinct image of the yellow cab that had carried my little body to the hospital to meet Dr. Reese. I saw me looking up at the highest skyscraper I had ever seen. I remember trying to capture the deep impotence I was feeling during that cab ride, but I quickly let go of trying to control the look of the image, and instead I was connecting with every emotion I remember experiencing at that time. With the arrival of each emotion came more tears, and I mean more tears. Both sleeves of my shirt were soaked and my nose was then actively participating in the release of my previously imprisoned emotions that had remained all these years in the darkened corners of my memories. I hope you are able to appreciate the image of me drawing an image of me while all sorts of bodily fluids are escaping my body, and I only had my tongue, hands and sleeves to keep these fluids in check.

Francis had again asked us to jot down any words that arrived during our sketching. Oh my, how surprised I was with the flood of words that appeared along with the continuing flood of tears. Overwhelming, the unknown, fear, why me?, alone, so-o small, God?, where am I going?, scary new area, and cancer? were the thoughts and feelings that blanketed the image. With all the physical and emotional release that surrounded me, I look back and think about what had actually kept me seated in my chair. Why hadn't I simply melted into a puddle of tears with a side order of exhaustion?

By the end of that retreat I knew four things for sure...I knew I was grateful for receiving the opportunity to attend the retreat with Suzanne, I knew I needed to save my pennies so that I could make reservations to go on a week-long retreat in California with Francis, I knew that I had been gifted with a loving, safe, spiritually grounded woman who could help me on my journey of growth and change, and I knew that my life would never be the same after those three days with Francis. Thank You God!

Honesty Prevails

2009-09-09T15:56:00.000-07:00

Saturday morning went by so quickly because Francis had the ability to draw me into each part of the discussions. I was often quite shy when I found myself surrounded by a large group of people I didn't know, and yet here I was with well over fifty participants that I had never met, feeling safe and welcomed. After lunch Francis introduced to us the plan for using the paper and art tools. She began by asking us to get comfortable as she played some beautifully calming music while gently giving us the instructions. As we began, I felt so relaxed and opened, a good place for honesty to thrive.

Francis invited each of us to think back to the innocence of our early youth and get a mental picture that embodied that time. She asked us to sketch the image and while drawing, write down words that described our memory of this time. I quickly began attempting to illustrate the tricycle that I had dearly loved as a child. I had a smile on my face and in my heart as I remembered the freedom I felt while riding up and down our street. It was the first mode of travel other than walking or riding in a car that I experienced and it had offered me pure joy and excitement, and these were the words I wrote around my beautiful trike...joy, freedom, pleasure, fun, excitement, friends and nothing can stop me. Did I forget to mention the set of extraordinarily fancy streamers that fluttered in the wind as I flew down the block as fast as my little feet could pedal? Those blue streamers were like the proverbial cherry on the hot fudge sundae! I felt so sassy and free...what fond memories. If only the exercise had ended on that delicious note.

While I was sitting in the lightness of my memory, Francis asked that each of us then shift our thoughts to the time in our childhood when our innocence was lost. Well, that took me about a nano second to identify, and I bet it didn't take you much longer to remember back to my busy travel schedule taking me back and forth to New York. I may seem casual as I mention it now, but as I sat at the retreat, listening to the directions, I felt almost sick to my stomach. Then I remembered that not one person at the retreat knew anything about my childhood days, so it might be possible for me to fade into the blandness of the walls and slip out at the end of the afternoon without being noticed. I quickly determined that I could mentally drop a veil over the depth of my feelings, like the invisibility cloak of Harry Potter, casually drawing a sketch with little or no emotional attachment...proving once again that old habits are indeed hard to break. However, this honesty was not about to be ignored or silenced!

With the gentle music playing, Francis invited each of us to breathe deeply and wait patiently for the image to emerge. Her next suggestion challenged me immediately because it seemed as though it had been crafted especially and exclusively for me. I almost believed that she may have been privy to my mental dialogue involving the possibility of a clock. She instructed us to trust the image that appeared, not judging it or changing it...merely sitting quietly with it while noticing the details.

I closed my eyes while trying to be open, calm and ready for a picture or impression to appear. I was immediately aware of the most accurate image. My initial fear encouraged me to quickly open my eyes, causing this specific image to disappear...but then I was reminded of the concept of trust. Was I ready for this degree of trust?? How could I ever remain in this room with all these people surrounding me while I would be attempting to sketch and get in touch with the feelings that this image evoked? I instinctively knew that now was the time to honor and trust the truth of this image, but how could I accomplish this? Picking up the markers and pencil, I noticed a heaviness seep into my heart as I felt the first gentle tear slide down my cheek.

A New Direction

2009-09-07T10:10:00.000-07:00

As Suzanne and I became friends and spent more time together, I realized that she was like a breath of fresh air. She brought an energy to my life that I welcomed, even though it was not always comfortable for me because she challenged me to be honest with my thoughts, feelings, beliefs and opinions, and by now you know how difficult that could be for me. Her enthusiasm for life was contagious and she consistently invited me to think outside the box...quite new and refreshing after my years of trying to avoid fear while earnestly striving to create safety and security around me at all times. Being the pastoral minister at our church meant that I also had the opportunity to participate in discussion groups and study groups that she offered to all the parishioners. My active involvement in these classes allowed me to take a closer look at my personal history with God and how I had formed the perceptions I held. I was also aware that the relationship I was building with God was also growing and changing. What an active time in my spiritual, personal and emotional growth.

In early spring Suzanne asked if I would be interested in attending a weekend retreat in Milwaukee with her. She explained that her spiritual teacher came from California two times a year to lead retreats. I didn't need to give it too much thought before telling her that I would definitely want to attend. That illustrates the level of trust I had developed in Suzanne. In the past I would have been more cautious and reluctant about being open to an experience that was new or different, but at this point I was intrigued with the possibilities that the retreat may provide for my spiritual development. Absolutely nothing could have adequately prepared me for the life-giving explosion that awaited me on that glorious weekend!!!

Greeting participants at the door was Francis, Suzanne's spiritual teacher and the retreat leader. I was wide-eyed with wonder as I first met Francis because I didn't understand the concept of spiritual teacher, and I was beyond curious to meet the woman that made Suzanne glow each time she would speak about her. My first impression was filled with adjectives: gentle, calm, safe, happy, peaceful, and inviting. Who wouldn't love that? I was attracted to her energy and I couldn't wait for the retreat to begin. Francis opened the retreat with a quietly enthusiastic welcome that even made this newcomer feel at ease. At one point she asked that each person bring plain paper and colored pencils, markers, paints or chalks for Saturday. I was intrigued even though I was far from being an artist. Maybe it was because I already felt a level of trust with Francis, but for whatever reason, I was not concerned or worried about the activity we would be assigned the next day. What I did know was that Suzanne and I needed to do a bit of shopping for Saturday, and we did not leave the event until 9:00 that night. Where would we be able to locate a store that late where we could buy our little art supplies? Don't ever underestimate two women focused on a mission.

Yes, we arrived the next morning with art tools in our hands. I also came with a sense of uncertainty mixed with anticipation for the upcoming activity. I was on the verge of being presented with one of the most treasured gifts of my life, and I wasn't even aware of it!

Walking Through a Fear

2009-09-01T12:47:00.000-07:00

Preparing for the actual public talk I was to be giving, I mentally returned to my time in college when I was required to take a course that caused me great fear and anxiety. It was a speech class, so I should not have been shocked by the sheer number of presentations we were required to give throughout the semester. My struggle centered around the public aspect of giving a talk. I think I can best sum up my experience by sharing a true story from that class. When we were each assigned to present a persuasive speech, I happened to be the first one chosen to begin. Keeping in mind that I had to convince my peers to agree with my point of view, I took a full breath and boldly stepped up to the podium. The truth is I wanted to appear bold and in charge, when in reality my knees were so weak that I could have tripped over that full breath that I had taken. I attempted to have my voice drip with confidence because I believed a tone of self-assurance would certainly assist me in persuading the listeners to agree with my strong convictions.

About halfway through my speech I noticed a few strands of hair that had fallen across my forehead into the upper corner of my eye, and for some unknown reason I felt the immediate need to brush those pesky little annoyances away. Much to my astonishment, I saw this wobbling, fear-enhanced, out of control hunk of flesh (aka my hand) come sweeping into my view, as it ineptly attempted to clear those wisps away. So many thoughts flooded into my mind as to how to best handle this very obvious show of fear...forge ahead and ignore was the solution that came through loud and clear. That was the one shot I had to keep my mind focused, with whatever level of confidence I could exude after that "bump" in the road had challenged my composure to its core.

I smile as I tell you that after all the silliness, I received an A for the speech and an A for the class. Wonders never cease, it's true. Maybe to me what seemed like a show of obvious fear, was not as obvious to those listening. This memory was held onto quite tightly as I began my journey to a new and different podium and audience. The team of adults who would be sharing their stories throughout the retreat met several times in the evening to practice presenting in front of real people. For me, that experience felt as unappealing as walking on a bed of hot coals. Since it was mandatory, I practiced along with everyone, though I don't have any memory of the feedback I received. I just had this deep belief that each of these steps led me closer to my final goal of surviving the event.

The retreat was a powerfully significant time for the students and adults. I felt a vibration of growth and a deepening connection with my faith flow throughout the weekend, and I was able to enter into the fullness of the experience until Sunday morning. Since we were all sleeping with our groups in the classrooms around the school, a good night of sleep was a far stretch of our imagination. But I awoke that morning extra early with a knot the size of my fist in my stomach. I knew it was fear rearing its ugly head, and it took every ounce of self-awareness to keep it from taking control of my body.

I took a walk around the school to calm myself and I ended up in the quiet of the chapel which was located at the far end of the building. I stayed there throughout the time for breakfast . The peace and stillness welcomed me in and I simply sat and breathed in the sense of total wellness surrounding me, until it was time for me to return to the group and give my presentation. That environment in the chapel was a gift I will never forget. On that early Sunday morning I learned an essential key to living ...some of our most beautiful presents don't come wrapped in the distraction of shiny paper with big bows.

You've already figured out the ending to this piece of my journey, haven't you? More important than my survival of the speech was the deep understanding that I can touch into the stillness that is always available.

Breaking a Pattern

2009-08-26T09:33:00.000-07:00

The act of courage that I anticipated was unfamiliar to each fiber of my being, but I knew my only choice was to accept this invitation to grow and change. On my tree of life I wanted to be a vibrant component, rather than a withering portion of the whole. Is it possible to be alive with possibilities and consumed by fear at the same moment? I certainly hope so, because that is exactly how I felt as I headed off on this new adventure.

Remember me? I'm the one who had created my own version of Pandora's Box for the explicit reason of avoidance. Rather than confront an uncomfortable conversation, occurrence, or feeling, I would simply make a deposit into the box and move forward in my life, or so I thought. I realized much later that I wasn't truly moving forward. How could I have been moving forward when in truth, I was stuck in a pattern of boldly familiar avoidance? It was finally time to free myself from that old established fear, and break the evasion pattern! As a classroom teacher, I was accustomed to formulating a lesson plan, but when I tried to create a plan to accomplish this goal, I had no idea where to begin. Too bad that Nike had not yet invented their now famous slogan, "Just Do It," because I could certainly have gained wisdom from that advice. In fact, after experimenting with a variety of unsuccessful attempts using other ideas, this was exactly what I discovered...just do it, inch by inch, step by step. Such a simple concept with many convoluted predecessors. The power of those three words was almost lost on me due to the sheer simplicity of its message.

I spent days crafting a my talk, speech, presentation or whatever you want to call it. All I know for sure is that I had never put so much time and energy into writing. Throughout my college years I would certainly put quality effort into the assigned papers, but those were education centered, not personal accounts of a relationship. It felt as though the more I wrote, the deeper I connected to my years spent with Jon, giving me new insight into our time together. It gave me a more profound understanding as to why our relationship had little chance of survival unless I had been willing to deny my core value system. Reflecting back all these years later, I was grateful for having the courage to face this task because it allowed me a much needed clarity concerning the demise of our marriage. Now if only I could get a stand-in to present my
material to the high school students. Since that was not an option, I wanted to create a daily mantra that would keep me focused on a positive message. Eventually I chose, " I know I can do this, I know I can do this..."

Facing a Fear

2009-08-22T12:12:00.000-07:00

Ever so gradually my life became more lighthearted, which meant the scary overcast shadow that had been a daily visitor no longer arrived at the dawn of each day. I was able to slowly begin to focus on living instead of merely surviving, as simple pleasures returned along with some unexpected carefree moments. A new level of gratitude also entered my existence due to a richer depth of appreciation I faced now that I was able to understand the precious experience that a joy-filled life provides. I was then able to view my life as a prized gift to be valued, treasure and loved. I was honored to greet the improved version of myself...what an unusual but beautiful moment! I wasn't yet aware that my improved self was about to be put to the test, and soon.

Do you recall the kitchen duty I had very willingly volunteered to perform? Well that safe plan blew into many tiny pieces on the day I received a letter from Suzanne offering me an opportunity to give one of the speeches at the retreat. What?! What?! Me give a talk in front of a group of high school students? She should have known me well enough by then to understand that there would be absolutely no possibility of me accepting her invitation! The letter asked if I would write and present to the group my story of the effect of love vs. infatuation in my own personal relationship. After the initial shock subsided and my heartbeat returned to normal, the first coherent thought was that I would immediately need to call Suzanne and gently explain to her that I was not prepared to openly share the experience of my private relationship, marriage and divorce from Jon, and definitely not in front of Jessica and her peers. I was sure she would understand my reluctance and put me back on kitchen duty where I would feel safe and secure.

It didn't take me long into my conversation with Suzanne to realize that my negative response to her request was not going to be an easy sell...for every apprehension I shared, she had a reasonable argument for me to reconsider. My unconvincing facade of inadequacy was quickly falling to pieces under my close scrutiny of the courageous trust that Suzanne presented for me to process and consider. I was left with an unmistakable truth that I finally had to confess to myself. It was challenging for me to own this fact, much less declare it out loud, even though I was only admitting this reality to myself. The only obstacle in my way was fear, fear, fear...that nasty, ugly shadow that I had done almost anything to avoid, yet there it was, staring me in the face. I knew there was only one way for me to handle this, I needed to face the fear and walk through it with dignity and courage! How does a truly frightened person accomplish this feat? I think I was about to find out!

Brighter Shades of Possibilities

2009-08-15T19:23:00.000-07:00

Having walked with depression as a daily companion, I became tired of trying to put my one foot in front of the other. I became tired of forcibly choosing to bring my body someplace so that my mind would follow. I became tired of viewing my days through a lens of varying shades of gray. I wanted to wake up one morning and find the cloudy haze of depression lifted, but that day just never seemed to arrive. Exhaustion, sadness and pain were not my choice of escorts, but they each remained so long...it felt as though I was just about to lose the last flicker of hope that this depression would ever loosen its grip. My doctor and therapist had both explained that it would take time for the medication and therapy to work together before I would notice an improvement, but the reality of rising each morning with another day of struggle ahead of me was beginning to make me wonder if there was any more "fight" left in me. Then one day without any warning I felt my first sense of lightness as I awoke without the thick sense of dread that for months had greeted me as I opened my eyes. It was this small momentary taste of natural energy that had been missing for so long, a taste that invigorated every cell of my body with HOPE. It may have been a slight taste, but it was enough to feed that flicker and keep it alive long enough to endure the slow steps toward regaining the colors back into my days.

All the hours of carefully opening and examining the rancid contents of Pandora's Box with my trusted therapist was beginning to help me understand the profound price I had paid for my avoidance of facing conflicts and my fear of sharing honest emotions. I was deeply into the process of clearing the air surrounding me by identifying and working through the years and years of dead stagnant energy, unfulfilled dreams and insincerity that had kept the exterior of many relationships superficially connected. I was well aware that in order to continue making positive steps forward I would need to step into an authentic world of communication, a world where I would most definitely be an awkward novice. I was open to walking through this new form of communicating because it felt like this would be my way to rediscover the brighter shades of possibilities.

What happened next was serendipitous. Don't you love when life gifts you with someone or something totally unexpected and yet deeply needed? It all happened so innocently. You see, it was time for Jessica to be confirmed, so it was natural that I would I attend the first meeting with all the students and their parents. Each family was given a questionnaire asking what type of volunteering opportunities parents would be willing to participate in throughout the year. I quickly signed up to help during the weekend retreat that would take place later in the year. I offered to help prepare the food, serve the meals, clean-up and assorted other kitchen duties throughout the entire weekend. It felt like that would be a safe yet useful way for me to help. Suzanne was the pastoral minister in charge of running this retreat experience each year for the teenagers. I had met her briefly during church related events and I was immediately drawn to her positive energy and authentic interactions with the adults and students. She was a role model for how I would love to be able to communicate with the people in my life. Not only that, but she was bright, funny, creative and very loving. Yes, she was the gift that was delivered to me at exactly the right time and place for where I was on my journey. I gave many prayers of sincere gratitude for her arrival, but little did I know that she was also going to offer me invitations to grow and change in ways that both excited me and scared the shit out of me!!

Photo Gallery #2

2009-08-06T14:08:00.000-07:00

Sit back and enjoy another addition of photos. I had to look through boxes and boxes of old family pictures in order to assemble this assortment, and I ended up organizing and sorting as I went through the process. It took me weeks to accomplish this task, or I should say partially accomplish this task, as Jim informed me yesterday that there are still a few more boxes...

Jessica is only four months old, and we're out on an early spring day soaking up the fresh air and abundance of nature. How do you like my long hair? Remember, these were in my hippy days of making candles in our basement to sell on the UW Library Mall. Jessica would come with us and we'd throw out some blankets on the ground in the mall and sell our homemade candles. Looking back, I wonder what made me comfortable with living day to day with little sense of the responsibility involved in being a parent and a lack of focus on future income potential. Maybe that's the definition of hippy.

Who needed fancy toys when you could play with your mom's hair? Our needs may have been quite simple, but we did share an abundance of love.

Good-bye to my hippy days and hello to the more responsible side of my life. I got this new haircut a short time after my divorce from Jon...it just felt like the logical time to manifest outwardly the changes that were occurring inwardly.

This picture brings a big smile to my face because it captures the glowing essence of Jessica's true personality...open, honest, alive with wonder and curiosity as she confidently shares her thoughts, feelings, questions and beliefs.

Can you see how the camera was able to capture the intensity and deep interest in the story I was reading to her? She has always been a voracious reader and learner...and so easy to love.

Kindergarten in Chanhassen, Minnesota. This was the year Jessica questioned me about getting back together with Jon. We have certainly shared a rich history of love, growth and trust.

Another family photo that makes me giggle because Kathie and I have so much extra fabric in our pant legs, probably enough to make a new pair of pants for Mary. It must have been tricky to walk and not trip...oh, the price of fashion.

Our wedding day! I was nervous, but Jim was so calm that he and his best man stopped to get a quarter pounder on the way to church. I love that not much flusters him.

This school picture shows the mole that was malignant. Look closely on the side of my neck...I think it looks harmless. The picture was taken about three months before my surgery.

We were on our yearly family vacation when Jim took this picture. I had recently stopped wearing turtlenecks, so I wasn't sure about having a photo taken, but Jim can be persistent. I think I was still trying to talk him out of it when I heard the click of the camera. What was I so worried about?

This was taken in front of our Christmas tree the year Jim demonstrated how to put the tree lights deep into the branches. That's all I needed to hear...the following year I doubled the size of our tree and had to buy hundreds of new lights. I slowly became a true tree nut! I was out to show that bigger is always better, only I didn't know when to stop. I will definitely discuss this in a future chapter, but know that I am cured of my insatiable need to please and impress people.

Jim secretly saved money from each of our monthly paychecks for a belated honeymoon to Hawaii. He started talking about us going to Hawaii for two weeks and I said it would be hard for us to afford such an extravagant adventure, and with that he pulled out a savings book with more than enough for the trip. I was thrilled with such an unexpected surprise!

Jessica and I have always shared a profound bond. I think all of our years together as a two person family helped solidify our deeply rooted love.

Wow! We looked so young and innocent. Jim and I packed food, beverages and the grill so we could head out on a Sunday afternoon excursion in my new Jeep. Can you see it in the parking lot in the background? That was one fine car. The top lifted off (not a one person job) and miraculously I would be in my very own convertible. Jessica and I have fond memories of the day I was doing a bit of showing off while heading down Cottage Grove Road in my spiffy new convertible, when I was suddenly pulled over by one of Madison's finest. Oops! Luckily I was only going a few miles over the speed limit, so I only received a warning. No more showing off for me.

Mom and I are sitting at a favorite outdoor restaurant during my life-giving trip to Florida. It's obvious that I was heeding my dad's wisdom...bring your body and your mind will follow. Also, knowing Mom and Dad, I'm almost certain that we were partaking in the Early Bird Special.

Do you remember the joy-filled family Christmas mornings I wrote about? Well, here one is in all its chaos, mess and love. You can't see me, but I was sitting next to my brother-in-law, Greg, about two feet away from Jessica and out of the shot. Those of you who know our family will notice that there is indeed an interloper in our midst...maybe because he/she wanted to bask in the obvious love we shared. Who is able to spot and name our uninvited guest? A little aside to my friend Susie...does the bookcase in the background look at all familiar?

Jim was always a willing participant whenever I had to set up my classroom. He would take care of the heavy boxes as well as the high reaching decorating jobs. His friendly attitude and total willingness were above and beyond the call of duty as a husband, and for that I was grateful. He understood how important it was for me to create a welcoming environment for the students, so he'd roll up his sleeves and get busy. Thanks Bud.

Here's a little known fact about me...I do not like wearing skirts or dresses. Therefore, when you see me dressed in one of them, you should immediately know it's for a special occasion. Jessica saw this picture and wondered why her bangs took up over half of the top of her head, and I wondered why we look so stiff, serious and formal. Maybe it's because I never feel comfortable being all dressed up.

We gathered for the fiftieth anniversary of my parents, and that's the special occasion for which I wore a skirt. We celebrated for the entire weekend...love, love, love was omnipresent. I truly treasure the love I share with my brothers and sisters, and the foundation of our connection was grounded in the relationship my parents modeled for us.

It's always fun to see a picture of the five of us because time goes by so quickly, with each of us looking different with our hairstyles and fashion choices...the changes make me smile. Do you notice how our dogs are an integral part of our life? These are Tyler and Muffles, our very first dogs who brought unconditional love to our lives for many years...such a gift.

Here's our whole family. Jim, being the official photographer, would casually arrange all of us, set the timer on the camera, and then quickly jump into the shot. Do you notice that this is the same living room from the photo taken many years earlier when I was quite young? Look, no more yellow rose-filled wallpaper.

Having my school picture taken each year was a bit of a challenge because photographers never let me look straight ahead...I always thought back to what Dr. Reese had told me years earlier. Then I would smile and hope for the best. This photo definitely makes me look like a friendly looking teacher, which I like, but what's with those gigantic glasses?

Mary has consistently been a major presence in our family, and she loves the dogs we've had throughout the years. Whenever the camera come out she requests a picture, so we oblige. This is a photo filled with love and joy, even though she looks quite serious...she believes it's best to stand at attention when she knows the flash will be going off.

This was a great year because it would be the first time I would be able to "loop" with my class, which meant I would be with the same students for first and then second grade.

Would you trust your child with this silly looking teacher? This picture was taken when we were allowed to have a Halloween parade and party in our school. Now it's more politically correct in our school district to not celebrate this holiday in school, but back in the day, we sure had fun. My fellow teacher and friend, Judy, went through the drive-up at MacDonald's with me in our matching witch costumes during our lunch break. Needless to say, we had fun ordering with our best witchy voices and watching the reactions...cheap thrills.

I never wanted to take myself too seriously in the classroom, so I always tried to find a place to have a bit of fun.

Important Discoveries

2009-07-29T15:46:00.000-07:00

Looking into my Pandora's Box was like looking into a deep hole in the center of my being. How many times had I casually dropped a feeling, thought, opinion or hurt into this hole without a single thought of what actually became of it or where it went? It's difficult to publicly admit that I had performed that act of avoidance too many times to even consider. At the time, I believed I was doing it to keep myself protected from conflict or pain, but what I was really creating was a life filled with dishonestly expressed emotions and fear of conflict. And those unspoken truths didn't merely go quietly into the night, but instead festered into a toxic mess that had to be recognized, allowed to emerge and reckoned with in an openly authentic manner. I would have been satisfied to leave it all unnoticed and locked away, but when the depression exploded into my existence, I became fully aware that something had gone terribly wrong and I needed to figure out what it was and how to make it better.

I felt the initial step I needed to take toward self-discovery was to cautiously open Pandora's Box, and with courage and strength, face the contents that had been held captive for too long. I knew the assistance of a therapist was crucial for guidance and focus, so I set up an appointment with a woman who came highly recommended. After meeting with her, I left with a glimmer of hope, but in the time it took me to get home, I had slipped back into a dense fog of nothingness. I knew I wouldn't be able to meet again with her until after winter break, so I added a prayer for patience to my daily litany of requests.

Step by step is how I managed to get through the days preceding Christmas, which in the past had been my favorite time of the year, since it was the time leading up to all of my family reuniting for a love-filled holiday together. It was early Christmas morning when I decided to put into action my dad's belief of bringing the body and having the mind follow. I had no desire to go to our large family gift opening, but since I understood the importance of that gathering, I literally forced myself to attend. I was amazed to find that I could actually enter into the spirit of our family's love and momentarily leave behind the cloud of disinterest that would so often surround me. I received the greatest gift that day by experiencing the power held within those simple words of bring your body and your mind will follow.

Going with my parents to Florida was exactly what I needed to do in order to recognize that I had more courage and strength inside me than I believed possible. The first time I became aware of this courage and strength was when I found that I was able to drive, even though a few days earlier I would have been willing to pay for someone else to do it. After stopping for a quick lunch on our first day, my dad handed the keys to me and assumed I would drive for the next few hours. I remember taking a full breath and telling myself that if I truly wasn't able to safely drive, then I could hand the keys back to him at any time. To my total amazement I was able to concentrate and stay safely focused on the road and traffic. Being able to tackle a challenge like this and succeed was a sweet tasting victory for me, and it was this type of discovery that I could tuck into my memory bank to be used later as a concrete reminder of what is possible to achieve even in the darkness of depression.

Step by Step Through Darkness

2009-07-19T17:01:00.000-07:00

As I began remembering back to the time of my depression, I was quickly able to get in touch with the profound pain and anguish that had filled my days and nights. I shouldn't have been surprised with how rapidly the images and details came back because those impressions are seared in my memory due to the darkness, terror and anxiety that was brought to my life. For me, living with depression was like cautiously walking across a deep abyss on a wobbly rope bridge with a 200 pound boulder strapped onto my back...a totally uncomfortable and nearly impossible task.

All the color that had previously shaped my days disappeared as I became consumed with focusing on gaining some degree of control over each and every daily task and physical activity . There was not much left in my life that felt natural, normal or stable so I had to concentrate to be in command of my movements. I accomplished this by holding my body rigidly, so rigidly that by the end of the day I ached head-to-toe from my muscles being constricted by such control. One day at school I had a thirty minute break while my class was in music. I walked back to the room, turned off the lights, closed the door and proceeded to quietly let go of the tight reigns. Tears fell down my cheeks with the realization that keeping my body in such unnatural control took a lot of energy, a high toll to pay every single day. As I was releasing these tears of frustration, sadness and exhaustion, a parent peeked into the room to share a funny story with me. Before the depression, I would have loved to engage in a friendly chat, but since I was unprepared to see or speak with anyone, I looked up with shock and had no time to dry my tears. She was obviously concerned, but I could not begin to honestly explain why I was crying, so I told her that I had hurt my hand while stapling some papers together. There was nothing easy about living with depression.

Decades earlier my dad had also suffered from depression, so he was able to share some of his wisdom that he believed might help me at this time. He told me that it was imperative to wake up each day with the attitude that for today I would put one foot in front of the other, even if I wanted to hide under the sheets in my bed all day. He also reminded me that on some days it was fine to give into the powerful urge to avoid the struggle of merely making it through the day. But then he followed by warning me of the possible impulse to allow this state of avoidance to become a habit. I respected his words and continued to remind myself of his warning.

The second seed of wisdom was planted on a Sunday morning when he and my mom came over to suggest that I travel with them and help drive to Florida during my winter break. I had never been to their winter condo because my vacations were always limited to the summer months when I was on a longer break. The very last thing I wanted to do was travel in car for two days, plus I really didn't feel secure in the idea of me driving on unfamiliar highways in my present state of mind. But I trusted both of my parents enough to accept their suggestion. My dad then told me his belief that if you bring your body, then your mind will follow. Such an easy-sounding sentence with one powerful message hidden within. When would I have a chance to experience for myself the energy and strength of that message?

Disruption!

2009-07-15T15:44:00.000-07:00

I remember the exact moment I knew something was wrong. My parents had an extra ticket, so they had invited me to go with them to a holiday feast that I had always wanted to attend. The event was on the sixth day of December, and I had been looking forward to this evening for the past two months. We arrived at the beautifully decorated ballroom and were seating at our table when suddenly I felt this extremely odd sensation of feeling disconnected from the whole event as well as all the people. I experienced the urgent need to get out of there as soon as possible. I excused myself as I headed to the restroom, not understanding what was happening to me. Why would I be feeling so bizarre at an event that I had anticipated for weeks? I remember standing in the bathroom stall thinking that my life was in crisis mode and I didn't know why. I was finally able to calm myself down, and after a few minutes I was able to return to the dinner. During the remainder of the evening I felt as though some other person had inhabited my body, and it took every ounce of control to sit through the meal and entertainment when what I really wanted was to vanish into oblivion and try to figure out the meaning of this confusion.

The next morning I felt that all the vitality and joy had been sucked out of my being, and had been replaced with a powerful sense of apathy and an abundant amount of anxiety. I couldn't shake that feeling all day. I also couldn't eat anything because my whole system was in a state of upheaval. My body seemed to be shutting down while my mind felt stuck in high gear, and I didn't have the slightest notion of how to make everything return to normal. I was going through the day in a state of fear, panic and profound lethargy. I had the urge to go to our neighborhood church and sit in the quiet, thinking that maybe I would find some feeling of relief by just being there. I remained for an extended period of time, imploring God to fix whatever was going on inside me. This was followed by tears of sadness, mixed with tears of defeat for my complete inability to comprehend or control this situation.

On the way back home an unusual statement came boldly out of me mouth, shocking me. I said, "Well, God, you have my attention, if that's what this is all about." It took me years to realize the power of that statement, but at that time I was mainly mystified about the origin of this insight. What had made me aware of the possibility that this may have all been happening as a way for God to get my attention? I had no way of knowing for certain, but I did know that the woman I had been a few hours ago was no longer the one in control of my body or life, and it was knowing that fact that scared me more than words can explain. I was even afraid to talk about it with my friends or family because I thought that verbalizing my fears of losing control might indeed send me over the edge of sanity into some black hole. It was as if the life I had known was on the verge of disintegrating right before my eyes, and I was at a total loss as to what my next step should be.

I set up an appointment to meet with my family doctor in hopes that he may understand and be able to explain what was happening and then be willing to assist me in formulating a plan to deal with this state of turmoil. He asked me many very specific questions and concluded that I was depressed. Depression? What would be the reason for me to be depressed when my life seemed to be going well? My family was healthy, my job filled me with satisfaction, my friendships were strong. I wondered what could be so wrong that it would set off a depression? I needed to learn more about the causes and cures, and the one finding that hit home loud and clear was that depression is sometimes triggered by anger turned inward...Yikes! Could this have anything to do with my infamous Pandora's Box?!!

Pioneer Mode

2009-07-06T15:41:00.000-07:00

There is a part of me that is tempted to merely continue telling my story without adding more details about my marriage, but the other part of me understands that my relationship with Jim has been a journey of many learnings, and I feel as though these gifts of discovery are to be shared. There may be one person who reads this and is somehow helped on his/her path, so I view this as an invitation to step away from the present, reflect on the past thirty plus years of our relationship, and then communicate it with deep honesty, sincerity and love. Therein lies the challenge for me because I have only shared these details in one-on-one situations, never in the public venue.

It seems as though Jim and I tripped over a lot of the typical bumps that couples experience while creating a meaningful life together. It certainly didn't help that my past arrived with me, meaning I brought enough baggage for a six month extended trip. I also brought all my awkward ways of dealing with emotions, and since Jim didn't arrive empty handed, we were in serious need of some clearing and cleaning out of old habits. The biggest obstacle for us was that we were each equipped with undeveloped tools and no maps to give us a sense of direction, so we found ourselves like pioneers, making our way over the unknown terrain of our life together. That brings me to my first learning...finding how to best acquire the skills necessary to make this partnership work effectively. I should mention upfront that this initial learning took us literally years to create and fully understand how to use them.

I want to share a few illustrations of our good intentions, but faulty connections. The first gift I ever received from Jim was for my birthday, a few months into our relationship. I was blown away by the size of the gift he brought to the house, and I was even more blown away by the contents...a two drawer metal file cabinet! I was shocked, speechless and at a loss as to how to lovingly respond to this very impersonal practical gift. He stood with a pleased smile on his face because he knew that I had been looking for a way to organize my papers, and I stood with a blank look on my face, having a hard time admitting to myself that I was disappointed to have received such a sensible gift from him. Then I felt guilty for seemingly not appreciating Jim's thoughtfulness in choosing something that he knew I could use. Are you now beginning to see how our differences in perceptions and expectations were challenging for us to handle? Hindsight is 20/20, so I feel a bit guilty sitting here critically dissecting some of our earlier behaviors and efforts. I now treasure Jim's ability to be the practical one, and each time I remember the file cabinet I smile with love and appreciation, although it took me many years to acquire this insight.

There is also the unforgettable night when we were invited to a friend's house for dinner and Jim was quite impressed with the stroganoff she prepared for us. He couldn't stop talking about it on our ride home, so I decided that soon I would make it, even though I had no idea how to prepare it. A few weeks later I had found a recipe, done the grocery shopping, and started making this fussy, time consuming dinner of beef stroganoff. I was feeling excited about surprising him with this special meal, but I was the surprised one when he took one quick look at it and said, "Is THIS what you made with that steak was on the counter?" How was I to react to this question after having spent the afternoon preparing what I felt would be an exceptional meal? My feelings were crushed, and I think he should have considered himself lucky for not wearing the dish, because believe me, that is what I considered doing. Working on an openly honest relationship was going to be more challenging than I thought.

During these early years we both had good intentions of helping create a solid foundation for our marriage, but in reality we didn't have the directions explaining how to make this happen. At times it seemed like we were merely going from one minor annoyance to another, never totally aware of how to best clean up the hurt feelings or frustrations. So many of my feelings went unspoken because I wasn't sure how to verbalize them without making Jim feel attacked. Have you already figured out what I did with all those unexpressed feelings? Of course they were each tucked safely away in Pandora's Box. What became of all these emotions that had accumulated over the years? You'll just have to stick around to find the answer to that fascinating query...

Communicating, Camping, Compromising

2009-06-27T20:33:00.000-07:00

As my daily routines gradually returned, I was faced with the pleasant reality that I was part of a newly formed family and marriage. Thinking back over my history of growing up as a classic people pleaser, gradually acquiring the ability to use a plethora of dysfunctional strategies to avoid expressing my true feelings. Because of this avoidance policy, I had never learned the art of engaging in an honest disagreement in which I would stand up for the right to own my feelings. With these old habits firmly in place, I had entered adulthood with a discomfort of any serious confrontation. Even though Jim and I shared an easy and relaxed relationship, I didn't even like getting into a serious argument with him. I found it easier to quietly turn away, lick my wounds and deal with my hurt or angry feelings by myself...avoid, avoid, avoid.

The past experience with my mom had given me my first example of truly sharing openly and honestly. This had shown me that speaking from my heart was an effective way for me to communicate, but I knew and understood how practicing it on a daily basis would indeed be a complicated achievement. It was much easier said than done. That level of communication between my mom and myself had been born out of a highly motivated need on my part to have her somehow understand my deeply rooted personal feelings about the real aftershock of emotions that I had been carrying around inside for so many years. It was an example of the style I hoped to emulate in my future, but I obviously needed time to reach that goal. I planned on taking baby steps, having no idea how many years would actually elapse before I would have the opportunity to taste success.

Aside from this disconnected form of communication, our life ran quite smoothly. Professionally I was blessed to have the joy and challenge of working with young children, helping them form a secure foundation for their future learning. I was also a co-leader for Jessica's Brownie and Girl Scout troops, so she and I were able to share many years of scouting adventures. I smile at my fond memories of actually going camping with our troop, and more than once. The smile is due to the fact that I truly enjoyed the experiences. Most people who know me well understand that my idea of "roughing it" consists of staying at Hampton Inn or Best Western. Isn't it beautiful to understand what parents are open to experiencing for the love of a child?

Jim and I have always been an example of opposites attracting. From the very beginning of our relationship we have consistently shared some fundamental beliefs, including the importance of family connections, religious convictions, political principles, a strong work ethic, humor and a love for each other. Although from the onset we've had very differing ideas of basic wants and needs, everything from how to best spend our free time, money habits of saving vs. spending, our first choice of where to live...country or city. Suffice it to say that our marriage has been filled with many compromises, but never dull or boring.

Why So Many Turtlenecks?

2009-06-24T18:15:00.000-07:00

Being diagnosed with cancer for a second time put my fear at High Alert. It seemed to me that since I had been diagnosed with this melanoma so many years after the retinablastoma, it was reasonable to believe that all things were possible when it came to cancer in my life...Yuck! The doctor had also discovered and removed an additional small melanoma on the back of my leg. I would need to return to a dermatologist every three months for a full body check. To me that meant I would face this scary fear of another cancer recurrence each time I would go for a check up. I somehow needed to figure out a way to keep this fear under control and as far away from my daily life as possible. There were times I just wanted to scream, "Cancer, get the hell out of my life!"

A part of me felt like I was ready to begin healing, but at that point in my life I was concentrating only on the physical healing because that's all I knew. I had no thought of asking God for help in this healing, since I was overpowered by the crippling fear that had a tight hold on my thoughts and beliefs. Because of this fear, I never took the time to sit quietly and listen for that little voice inside me...I was too busy avoiding thinking about anything related to cancer in hopes that it would gently disappear from my life.

When I was strong enough to return to teaching it was wonderful because being with the students offered me a marvelous distraction from my fears. During my hours in the classroom I was focused solely on meeting the individual needs of each child, so there was little room for negative thoughts or fears. There was one problem I faced daily...finding an outfit to wear that covered up the length of my scar. So much energy wasted on hiding what I considered to be my most obvious outward imperfections, my eye and now my new scar. Honestly, it took me weeks and weeks of wearing turtleneck shirts and sweaters before I took a long, loving look at myself in the mirror. It was the first time in months that I genuinely smiled at the woman I saw looking back at me. I looked closely at the scar on my neck and realized that it was the physical evidence left from the surgery that had saved my life. If I had never had the surgery that gave me that scar, then I may no longer be here on earth. The cancer would have been given an opportunity to continue growing and spreading throughout my body.

That discovery gave me a brand new appreciation for my life and my scar, offering me freedom to move my turtlenecks to the back of the closet. In retrospect, this was my first clear-cut chance to experience growth and change as a positive event in my life...what a beautiful gift from God, and one that I will always cherish.

Profound Gratitude

2009-06-23T11:48:00.000-07:00

The surgery was scheduled for the following week, and so began another adventure into the big world of the unknown. Because I never expected to experience another journey with cancer, I entered this in a state of shock, confusion and disbelief. The minute I heard the word cancer I reverted back to being seven years old, looking to my parents for the support I would need to travel this road again. I was witnessing this occurrence with the numerical age of an adult, but with the coping abilities of a child. Wow, the word cancer held a great deal of power in my life, enough power to change the way I saw myself as well as the way I reacted! During this time my life felt surreal, and believe me, that was an uncomfortably awkward feeling scented with the pungent odor of fear. What happened to the competent woman, mother, teacher, wife and friend? Where had she gone, what had caused her to disappear, and what did I need to do to get her back?

My first memory after the surgery was an unknown voice saying,"Laura, smile for me." I had not come out of the anesthetic completely, but I do remember wondering who would ask me to smile when I felt such deep pain in my neck. I managed a weak smile and the voice thanked me. I promptly returned to sleep. It wasn't until the next day when the doctor explained the intricacy involved in successfully removing the affected areas in my neck, causing him to be concerned that he may have severed an important nerve that controlled the left side of my face. He couldn't be certain until they could observe my ability to smile. I shuddered when I had time to consider how a different outcome could have had severe consequences on the rest of my life...a sobering reality reminding me why, in the midst of this journey, it was important for me to give profound gratitude. This was a "light bulb" moment, thinking back many years before when my mom had also felt the need to give boundless gratitude.

I refused to look at myself in a mirror for several days due to the drastic length of the stitches I could feel from the surgery. They had shaved my hair from behind my left ear and all the way down, so the stitches ran all along that area, through the length of my neck and ending at the top of my chest...no wonder I remember feeling such an elevated pain coming out of surgery. A few days later I felt the need to have a quite serious pity party for myself, and following that deep sadness and anger, I was able to look in a mirror at the bandages that seemed to cover the entire left side of my head. The next day I watched as the nurse changed the bandages, and I was then able to begin my true healing.

Is This a Bad Dream?

2009-06-21T13:30:00.000-07:00

Jim and I were married in July 1979 during my summer vacation. In August I was to begin teaching second grade at a different school, so there many new adjustments for me. I set up my new classroom several weeks before school began, during which I had the opportunity to meet a lot of my new colleagues. The teachers I met greeted me with a genuine warmth, putting me at ease about being the new kid on the block. The year began smoothly at home and at school, with each of us settling into our new routine. It seemed as though everything was gently falling into place.

My parents were both retired and had begun spending the winter months in Florida. We were happy to take care of their dog during these months, especially Jessica since she had always put a dog at the top of her wish list, and this was a chance to experience the real sense of being responsible for the daily upkeep of a pet. Several weeks before leaving for the winter, my mom called to talk about us taking care of Willy and to also ask me a favor...she wanted me to go to my family practice doctor and have him check out a mole that she had noticed on the side of my neck. The mole actually looked innocent to me, so I questioned why she felt the need for me to have it checked out. After explaining how she wanted to leave for Florida no lingering thoughts about the mole, I reluctantly agreed to make the appointment.

My regular doctor was away for several days, so one of his colleagues met with me. He thought it was best to be safe and have the mole tested. When I returned a few days later to have the stitches removed, this same substitute calmly asked, "They called you with the results, right?" "Nobody called me about any results," I said. "Oh well, it's malignant, so we will have to set up a date for the surgery." I was in a state of complete shock, nearly falling off the examination table! How could he seem so cold and unemotional while delivering such serious news? He was acting as though he was delivering a weather report...totally unacceptable! There wasn't anyone with me, so I needed to drive myself home with my mind in total disarray. I kept reminding myself to drive slowly and carefully to avoid an accident.

How could this be happening to me again?

There's Work to be Done

2009-06-17T15:37:00.000-07:00

Following the wedding they lived happily ever after...don't I wish! The truth is that Jim and I did get married three years after we met, but the fairy book ending is not quite as simple in the real world. One thing standing in the way of our marriage was the Catholic Church. I applied for an annulment of my first marriage, and spent the next year jumping through hoops that had been created to make an annulment anything but easy to obtain. Many times I felt the priests with whom I met from the marriage tribunal acted as though I had awakened one morning and casually decided to get a divorce. That was so far from the truth! For me there was nothing casual about filing for divorce. Being an adult, I understood the gravity of my decision and took none of it lightly. In fact, it had taken me many months of living in an emotional state of distress, heartache, shock and confusion before the path I needed to take came into clarity.

After continually being told my case was in the "judgement drawer" my annulment was finally granted, but not until my mom and dad were also summoned to meet with the marriage tribunal requiring them to answer two hours of very personal questions about my relationship with Jon. After receiving the annulment, I was asked to give a donation to this same marriage tribunal that had already extracted a pound of flesh from my parents and me. I told them I would return home and put their request into my "judgement drawer." Does that give you a sense of how I was feeling about the Catholic Church after the humiliating treatment we had received?

Another obstacle we had to face was presented to me by Jim when he asked, "How long do I have to pay for Jon's mistakes toward you?" Yikes! How could one small question pack such a powerful punch? I didn't know how to respond other than, "The smell of shit lingers a long time." This was a wake up call for me to become more aware of how my past experiences were now having a negative affect on my current relationship. There was work to be done, and I was up to this challenge, especially since the work would pay off with a more solidly grounded connection based in the present and not the past. Wow! Being an adult can sure be hard work sometimes.

Returning Home

2009-06-13T12:37:00.000-07:00

After two years in Minnesota, it seemed time to return to Madison. The owners of the school where I was working announced to all employees that they were experiencing financial issues and they would need to cut back on hours and pay raises. My pay was never truly adequate for a long term commitment for a single parent, so cutting back would definitely hurt our financial stability. At the same time Jessica talked about missing Madison, and since I was feeling the same way, we discussed heading back home. After my experience of working for a private school, I was ready to get a teaching job with Madison Public School District. I felt I would have more job security and better earning potential for the future. Raising a child without any assistance meant I was the sole provider, and I took that role quite seriously.

I returned to Madison a different woman, more independent and more grounded with a better understanding of my positions as a mother and a daughter. It took a bit of time to secure a full time teaching position, but I was patient and willing to substitute for a semester in order to become known in the district. Within three months I was offered a contract to complete the year for a primary teacher that was moving out of state.

The move back to Madison was definitely the correct choice, giving Jessica consistent access to her grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles. Three weeks after returning I met a friend of one of our neighbors. We began dating, but I was determined to take this relationship more slowly than others because I had learned that time was needed in order to more fully know someone. From our first meeting Jim and I shared an easygoing connection. I enjoyed his sense of humor and his relaxed level of comfort with himself and with me. We were able to discuss a variety of topics and we quickly realized that we agreed on a huge amount of fundamental beliefs from religion to politics to respect and enjoyment of family. When we spent time together I felt relaxed, happy and comfortable, but above all else I could be authentic. I didn't feel as though I had to hide my real feelings to impress him, and needless to say, that was monumentally important!

Photo Gallery

2009-06-11T13:28:00.000-07:00

I thought it would be fun to share some family photos from my childhood.

Sit back and relax while I tell you a bit about each of the photos. I really

like the top one because it shows the joy of my early years, while also

capturing the fire I had in my being even back that far.

This is the first family photo I have. If you look carefully, you'll even

see my big brother almost hidden behind my sister. This was taken

in 1949 when my parents had the distinctive wallpaper my dad had

chosen from a little sample card. He always laughed about not being

able to visualize exactly how large the opened roses would look, and

then having to live many years with the print because it was much too

expensive to quickly replace.

This is one of our Christmas card photos. As I look at it, I am

reminded to tell my brother what excellent taste he had in sweaters.

Do you think anyone could really be as angelic as I look

in this photo?

Our grandma would always come to our house for Christmas. We
would each receive one special gift, and it seems that Kathie and I
both treasured our new dolls.

This is taken from my first grade class picture. There were
thirty students in my class. How times have changed. Now
first grade classes have around fifteen students. Weren't all
things much simpler in the 1950's?

Kathie and I always were able to choose one hat for Easter. We

had such fun shopping for those hats with Mom. We are all so

proud of those yummy chocolate bunnies. It seems like I'm in

the midst of checking on my brother's behavior...either that or

I'm thinking of ways to get him to share his bunny with me.

Do you remember me telling about the doorman at
the Barbizon Hotel in New york? Well, her I am with
him in front of the hotel. I remember being very much
impressed with the whole idea of a doorman.

Here's Mary in her little playpen. She would love being there
with all her toys and stuffed animals. There was always one
us not far away because she could easily draw us in to play
with her.

We were all to be looking away from the camera, so why
am I the only one looking at the photographer? Don't miss
out on another peek at our rose-patterned wallpaper.

This is my First Communion and I am behaving as holy as
possible. Our priest had told us that our First Communion
day would be sunny and bright because it only rained for
naughty children. Imagine my dismay when I awoke to a
big old thunderstorm. I remember thinking I had to pray
extra hard and be extra good to make up for the rainy day.

Here I am getting ready to head back to NYC. The
only good part of this trip was that my sister was able
to go with us. Have you noticed how much I loved my
saddle shoes?

We stopped at our national capitol in Washington,
and then went on a tour of the White House. I was
never able to truly enjoy these times though due
to my reality of knowing why we were on the trip.
My fears were never too far away.

My mom would spend such a long time putting
curls into my hair. It was a big event the first
time got my hair cut...I think Mom really liked
long hair.

Middle school picture. Mom obviously didn't
give me lessons on how to style naturally wavy
hair. I am wearing my favorite Garland sweater
that I had received for Christmas...no more dolls.

This family photo makes all of us look as though we were being
forced to have our picture taken. This was taken the year before

I was married...yikes, I was young!

I have more pictures to share with you, and now that I'm beginning to figure out how to add pictures (thanks to Jim and Susie), I'll include some throughout my blogs. There are many new things to learn about blogs, and I'm enjoying them all. Hopefully you have enjoyed the photo gallery, giving you a visual to add to my written journey.

Learning and Growing Together

2009-06-07T12:30:00.000-07:00

One night as I was reading Jessica a story while snuggling with her at bedtime, she began asking me why I had gotten divorced from her dad. I was rendered speechless and totally unprepared for this discussion. I knew I had to deal with this topic carefully because I had promised myself not to say any negative things to Jessica about her dad's behavior during our marriage. Believe me, this was an extremely difficult promise to honor. I obviously didn't satisfy her curiosity because her parting comment to me was, "Mommy, if you really loved me, you would get back together with Daddy." I was flabbergasted! How could I be honest with her about his current choice of lifestyle, his lack of desire to be financially responsible, or his open-minded beliefs of casual drug use? I repeated my promise to myself over and over again.

After that night there were countless times Jessica would engage me in similar conversations. I began to comprehend her feelings about being the only person she knew who had divorced parents. You need to remember this was back in the 70's when divorce was quite uncommon. When I grasped the depth of her sensitivity, I was greeted with a sense of guilt for making the decision to marry so young...growing up with a strong Catholic mother meant that guilt was never far away. I was able to realize though, this had been a decision from the past and the guilt did nothing to help solve this problem I was facing at the present time. What I needed was wisdom to help me make the right decision for now. How could I best help my daughter? I was too involved to make a solid decision by myself, so again I turned to a professional who could assist us in sorting out our emotions and points of view. I was not financially able to return to my first private therapist, but I discovered our county mental health professional charged on a sliding scale so that is the route I chose.

With the help of the therapist, Jessica and I were able to progress to the point of a mutual understanding and acceptance of the other's feelings. As with all things worthwhile, we put many hours into this process. We found ourselves in new and unfamiliar territory, a place in which we were invited to share honestly, openly, respectfully, showing consideration for the feelings and ideas of the other. We each had our own individual time with the therapist and then we came together and were given the opportunity to put into practice our new-found rules for sharing. Using these communication techniques certainly made our discussions flow more freely and easily. By the end of our time working with this therapist, Jessica had a better understanding of why her parents were not able to continue in their marriage, and I was better equipped to listen to her questions and feelings without taking each and every one of them as a personal attack.

The Truth Shall Set You Free

2009-06-04T17:06:00.000-07:00

As soon as I heard Mom's voice I started to cry. So much for my big plan to chat about Jessica's play dates. I had so much emotion tightly stored in my heart, and it was all set loose by merely hearing her voice. I understood this was not going to be easy, but I also knew our relationship was based in a deep love that would hopefully withstand the turmoil ahead. Mom asked why I was crying, and that's all it took for the words to come pouring forth, words that were steeped in truth. Have you ever sobbed so hard that you couldn't take in a full breath? Yah, that's what happened on and off during the conversation we had that day.

I remember attempting to stay on a focused path of sharing. Do you remember the detective in the old Dragnet TV series? Invariably he would at some point say his signature phrase, "Just stick to the facts ma'am." Well that was my goal, but it was challenging because there were so many feelings intertwined with the facts. I began by explaining in detail the strong sadness that emerged at my first therapy appointment as my one eye tried to explain to the other eye what it was like having vision. It felt a logical place to begin since that was the initial moment I became aware of the true depth of loss I had been carrying around without ever understanding or acknowledging it.

For many years I had been the queen of talking around the truth, so Mom was not accustomed to me taking a direct approach. She was caught off guard by my candid honesty...actually, so was I! Looking back, I think I was willing to step out of my comfort zone because I knew and accepted what was at stake if I had let fear rob me of this chance to be set free from all the years of hiding, ignoring and pretending.

That day was the first of many weeks of open, honest and deeply rich conversations of growth. Mom and I were in the midst of creating a special relationship, giving birth to a new level of love, truth, acceptance and profound respect. Giving birth involves pain, and that is what we both experienced during this time, understanding that when the new life appears the pain is reduced to a gently dulled memory.

There are two memories that stand out from this period of time, hopefully illustrating our journey together. The first occurred during one of our many long distance calls when Dad walked past the phone and commented, "Oh no, not another hour of the two of you paying the phone company to just sit and cry together." The second involved me standing in front of a Hallmark card display, trying to choose a Mother's Day card. Now remember, I was immersed in truth at that point, so I felt compelled to select a card reflecting where Mom and I were at this time. After nearly an hour search I decided to create my own form of tribute to Mom. Yes, the pain was real, but so was the final outcome...a love so strong and a respect so deep that it could withstand whatever the future held.

Honesty at Last

2009-05-27T09:16:00.000-07:00

After that initial therapy appointment I did a lot of processing of how I had or hadn't dealt with my genuine emotions. It was then I realized I had been hiding my true feelings since returning from New York. What had happened to make me believe it was not acceptable to be open and honest? Dr. Reese? My family? The classmates at school? The baker behind the counter? I couldn't begin to untangle the web encasing my people pleasing behaviors, but I was ready to admit how stuck I had become. I was in my twenties, and yet I continued to exhibit the same "acceptable" reactions as when I was seven. What is your definition of being unable to move emotionally forward? I felt now was the time to closely examine, develop and expand my level of emotional wisdom. With the help of my therapist, I set out do just that.

Dealing with conflict had always been challenging for me, so facing the prospect of being honest with my mom was beyond difficult. I felt the first step must be inviting all authentic feelings to emerge from the darkness of my fear, and this I did with my therapist. These genuine thoughts and feelings hopefully could then lead to the expansion of my emotional growth. Before this could happen, developing a sense of courage was needed in order to broach the topic of honesty with Mom. Loving my mom as deeply as I did meant I was afraid of hurting her feelings, or giving her the impression I didn't appreciate all that she had done with me and for me over the years, but I also knew the importance of finally having my true feelings validated after all those years. The day of the dialogue between my eyes, it came through loud and clear how crucial it was for me to share my side of the emotional ordeal of losing the vision in an eye. I continually reminded myself of the sorrow and grief those tears represented because I was afraid it would be too easy to slip back into my familiar pattern of hiding, ignoring, eating or joking my anguish into silence again.

Since Mom and I talked almost every weekend, I wanted to begin our sharing as soon as this Saturday. I almost felt a sense of urgency to call forth my newly discovered courage and begin this journey with my mom before I would get cold feet. I remember visualizing how this initial conversation might open with a fun little chat about Jessica's social activities with friends. I even had a short impromptu rehearsal for myself because often when I'd be nervous I'd have trouble staying on task and my attention could easily shift away from the core of my intended message. I now understood the essential element of honesty in our upcoming conversations. I know, I know, long distance was not the best way to enter into a communication on this heart level, but I felt this needed to begin soon. This was my reason for refusing to wait two or three months until our next visit to Madison.

I took a deep breath and dialed her number...

Interrupted Calm

2009-05-25T08:10:00.000-07:00

Our life was clicking right along with lots of fun times getting to know new places and people. My job was everything I had wanted. Many more children than initially expected were enrolled in the Montessori school, making it necessary to hire two teachers. Working with a co-teacher was easy because we shared a common style and communicated well with each other. The pay wasn't fantastic, but Jessica and I found we didn't have expensive needs, so it was a good fit for us. We missed our friends and family from Madison, so we tried to go back for visits as often as possible. We also did a lot of letter writing since this was pre-Internet, texting, Facebook and Twitter. Long distance phone calls, which were quite expensive at that time, were kept to a minimum.

For several months I felt no pressure or anxiety . Our emphasis was on acclimating ourselves to the new environment in which we were living and adjusting to our new routine. I felt as though I could finally let out a long overdue exhale after the stress of the past several years. At last Jessica and I were able to experience the benefits of our planning, goal-setting and hard work, and we were enjoying it together. What a refreshing way to live, and I wanted this to last forever. Of course it didn't, but even as fear began to creep back into my days, I continued to cherish every bit of the feeling of my accomplishments over the past years.

Fear was a red flag, an invitation for me to take a closer look at what was going on in my life. I thought this may possibly allow me to pinpoint the cause, but I came up empty. Why would this enter my life at a time I was experiencing a solid sense of achievement and success? A friend suggested going to a therapist. I was uncertain about her suggestion because I had never before considered that as an option. Why would I ever have needed a therapist when I had my trusty Pandora's Box?

Being away from the support of my family, I felt I should go to someone who could help me figure out what had happened to cause this shift in my emotional life. I found a female therapist who made me comfortable at our first appointment, so I felt in capable hands. She asked many questions about my past to help her more fully understand me. As I answered her questions, I began to more fully comprehend the complexity of my life. After sharing the highlights and the lowlights, she asked how I had dealt with my feelings after losing the vision in one eye. I must have looked perplexed as I asked her, "What do you mean? What feelings?" She then asked me to close both eyes and have the eye with vision speak to the eye without vision. I hesitated for a long time because I felt a bit ridiculous speaking for my eyes. With a little encouragement though, I was able to begin. It didn't take long for the tears to begin flowing down my cheeks. It was the very first time I was able to get in touch with my feelings of genuine sadness and loss. Where had all deep emotions been stored for those many years? In Pandora's Box? Someplace in my body? I couldn't answer that question, but one thing I did know for sure...it was about time for me to begin opening wide the windows of my feelings and airing out all the unexpressed emotions that had been kept under wraps too long.

Single Parent Life

2009-05-21T16:43:00.000-07:00

Moving back in with my parents during the divorce was helpful in many ways. They provided us with a safe and comfortable place to live while I dealt with the loss of a marriage. Initially it felt like a part of my chest had been ripped open, leaving me with a gaping hole where my love and trust had resided. I remember the exact minute I realized there could be happiness beyond the grief consuming me since the end of my marriage. Jessica and I were outside sledding down the hill in our yard after a typical December snowfall. We both flew off the sled in the middle of a bump, landing face-down in a pile of snow. We shared a burst of spontaneous laughter, and it was at that moment I suddenly recognized the true beauty of the experience. It had been many months since I felt a joy as pure as this.

With no teaching jobs available in the pubic schools and having a child I needed to support, I wasn't sure what direction to take so I could begin earning money. While in college I had been hired as an assistant in a Montessori classroom, and I returned to that position after my divorce. I had admired Montessori's belief of how young children learn, so I quickly accepted an offer to return to school for one year, earning a teaching certificate from the International Montessori Institute. It was a big commitment because the training center was located in Milwaukee, and I would be making a daily commute back and forth for a year. Upon certification though, I knew I would be able to get a job and follow by passion...teaching. After receiving the funds I needed, my mom and dad offered to pick up Jessica from day care and be with her until I arrived home each day from class. Everything was in place as the school year began. What a year!

Being a full time student and single parent was a challenge, but with the support of my family it all worked. The most difficult adjustment for me was leaving my young daughter at the day care every morning as I left for class. While saying our good-byes one day, Jessica very softly said, "Mommy, I know you don't want to leave me here, but you need to go to school far away and I can't go with you. I'll be okay, Mommy." I cried most of the way to Milwaukee. Keeping focused on my goal of gaining financial independence and being able to support Jessica made this short-term sacrifice worthwhile.

Upon completion of my classwork, I received a job offer in Minneapolis. I felt a mixture of fear and excitement as I was about to embark on a new job in a new city with my daughter. This was my first experience living away from my hometown and the emotional support of my family, but I felt this was the right choice for all of us. I laugh now when I remember the interesting set of furniture we used in our apartment. Looking around, it may have seemed as though we were hosting an indoor garage sale because there were random pieces throughout the rooms, with nothing matching or coordinating. We had assembled it from the donations made to us by our family or friends. None of that mattered though, because we had the most important piece any home could possess...love!

After arranging our living room, I was in the kitchen unpacking dishes when Jessica called for me to come right away. Horrified, she announced, "Mommy, the television is broken, and the color is all gone." I had to gently explain that Grandma and Grandpa had a color television in their house, but ours was black and white. Yes, we both had a period of adjustment, but we came to understand how special it was that we were able to make these minor adjustments together. That year our Christmas tree was decorated with ornaments purchased at the local Ben Franklin store. Today, almost thirty-five years later, I continue to use those ornaments on my tree as a reminder that the true essence of beauty is simply love.

Aquiring Courage

2009-05-19T15:38:00.000-07:00

As each year passed, I became further and further removed from the word cancer. I continued dealing with my need to be hyper-aware of looking at people from the correct angle, but the actual fear that I had experienced with the surgery and treatment slowly began to fade into an isolated memory from my past. Since I no longer had the need to implore for a cancer cure, my relationship with God also faded in importance. Where was my authentic gratitude? It was sadly missing from my vocabulary, although I felt grateful after each good report and did give thanks in a quick superficial manner. It's difficult for me to look back and admit to myself and others that the relationship with God had been built purely on a foundation of need. I truly had no idea what I was missing. This meant I was left with only food and humor as my daily allies, and don't forget about my updated version of Pandora's Box.

By the time I entered college, I was only focused on meeting new friends and getting a degree in education. I made a conscious decision to put cancer into Pandora's Box where I wouldn't have to think about it or be reminded of the fear and pain it had caused me. As long as my secret was safe, I could be a normal college student with the normal concerns associated with college life. I began dating someone seriously, and within a few months he was drafted out of the university and into the army because of the war in Vietnam. Since this was the first deeply meaningful connection I had experienced, I was willing to work on keeping our bond intact while he served. During this time, it was not easy to have limited time together, but in my senior year he was discharged and we were able to resume our daily relationship. Soon after his return, we were engaged and busily planning our wedding. I was filled with joy and anticipation.

Jumping into a marriage so quickly after our years apart was not the best decision I ever made. It didn't take us long to discover that we did not share the same goals for the future. Mom and Dad had witnessed the differences between us, and both warned me to slow down before making a lifetime commitment, but I believed they were wrong. I felt they didn't understand the love we shared. Another thing they didn't know was that a few weeks before our wedding day, I found out I was pregnant. I didn't possess the courage to tell them this news. I trusted the strength of our union. Hindsight is 20/20...right?

After the birth of Jessica, it was difficult for my husband to understand this fresh life we had created required a lot of time and energy. Our baby was a new responsibility and I took it very seriously, fulfilling her basic needs with a depth of love I had never encountered. In a short time I came to understand my desire to live a conventional life, while my husband was more interested in continuing a life with a minimum of long-term restrictions on his energy, as well as a freedom to use his time as he chose. This time I did have the courage to speak the truth and admit my mistake. I became a single parent, creating a life with my daughter. This was the most difficult and yet finest choice of my entire life, a choice I have never regretted.

High School Years

2009-05-14T17:31:00.000-07:00

High school can be a difficult time for anyone struggling with issues of self-esteem, and I'm sure it's no surprise to you that I fit into that category. I don't want to leave you with the impression that every minute was filled with angst because I experienced many fun-filled hours with my old and new friends, but during those four years I did feel the need to trade up to a larger more efficient Pandora's Box. What had competently stored all my genuine feelings and thoughts throughout elementary and middle school was incapable of dealing with the sudden onslaught of all the overpowering feelings brought on by my high school experiences.

Before the beginning of freshman year, I also tried developing a thicker skin in terms of my overly emotional reactions to comments and/or situations involving social aspects of my life. It meant that I had to construct a thicker protective wall surrounding myself and my feelings, which in turn provided me with a set of emotions that could not as easily be penetrated. Once this was accomplished, I was ready to head into the next part of my journey.

Our family life during this time was also full of new discoveries as my dad fell deeper and deeper into the grip of alcoholism. That disease overtook Dad's life with a power that was hard to understand and accept. He was helpless in his attempts to control its hold. It was more than painful to watch the dad that we so loved turn into a man we barely recognized. As a family we tried to hide the devastation from our neighbors because initially that was all we knew to do. There were countless episodes with Dad's drinking that caused me sadness, shame and embarrassment, but now I realize those feelings stemmed from lack of education and understanding on my part.

Eventually our family was introduced to Alcoholics Anonymous. Before this, I felt like Dad was choosing to drink because he was too weak to avoid it, but with the help of AA, our family began to learn that it was not a weakness, but a disease causing Dad the loss of his ability to gain control over the alcohol. There were many painful years, during which Mom needed extra help with all that goes into keeping a family together during times of stress. It offered me an opportunity to begin paying her back, showing the deep appreciation and love I felt for the major support she had provided me in my time of crisis. Our entire family unit grew closer and our bond grew stronger during these years, and we each moved forward in life with a deeper appreciation of what is involved in being a true member of a family. I am delighted to let you know that with the help of AA, along with the loving support of his family, friends and above all his Higher Power, Dad became a recovering alcoholic, returning to the man we loved and admired.

Every five or ten years I am reminded about my high school class reunion. I admit there is a small part of me that envies those who actually look forward to these events. Then I wonder how can they find enjoyment seeing so many people they may vaguely remember, having little in common except the fact that they all spent the same four years attending classes at the same high school together? My high school reunions are almost the last place I would choose to spend an entire weekend of my life. I already keep in touch with the friends I had authentically connected with all those years ago, and I cringe at the mere idea of mingling with all the rest of my classmates in a superficial level of conversation. To me it would be a reminder of a time in my life that was filled with growing pains and secrets that were better kept under wrap, or better yet in my Pandora's Box. I may be in the minority, but high school is definitely not in my top ten list of the best times of my life, and I would rather spend the weekend celebrating my life as it is today.

Life After Treatment

2009-05-11T19:26:00.000-07:00

The day I was released from my final radiation and TEM treatment, I remember a feeling of total freedom. As we boarded the bus for our trip home, I was breathing a different air that was filled with a new-found taste of anticipation. What would life look like now that I didn't have this enormous fear as my daily companion?

I returned to Madison with an imaginary pink eraser in my hand, ready to erase the word cancer from my vocabulary. It had darkened my life for long enough, and now was the time to say good-bye to it. I understood my continued need for blood work on a regular basis, but in my heart I felt like that was merely a short-term requirement I needed to complete before crossing the finish line in my relay for life.

I returned to school with my ever-present quiet friends...food, humor and God. Each was called upon at special times and for distinctively different reasons. In the morning I would greet God with the familiar prayer to keep me safe from insults and cruel comments from my fellow students, as well as continued good health. I would then eat a breakfast rich in sweet insulation, providing me with a gentle dose of sheer pleasure, making any difficult assignment or situation at school easier to handle. Of course, I would need another application of this "medication" throughout the day. After these two friends had been properly greeted and consumed, I would quickly wrap myself with my armor of humor and goodness and head out the door to school. No wonder I would occasionally feel exhausted before my school day would even begin!

During this time I had many friends, most of whom were females. It was difficult being friends with boys since not only did I look different, but I was also restricted in the amount of physical activity in which I was allowed to participate. You see, I had a radiation burn on the side of my forehead that limited me in my exposure to sunlight and body heat. It wasn't easy trying to explain that limitation to my young classmates. That made it more difficult to continue in my attempt to stay below the radar because it made me feel obviously different in yet another way. I may have been cancer-free, but I was weighted down by my self-concept. Where was a therapist or counselor when I seriously could have used the assistance?

I'm not asking for a pity party, but can you imagine how I felt when one of the boys in our eighth grade class decided to have the first girl-boy party and he invited all of my girl friends, but failed to include me? Our teacher took me aside to delicately explain how surprised she was to realize that I was the only one from my circle of friends to be excluded. No amount of humor, food or compassion could begin to medicate the degree of pain I felt.

Was it any wonder that by the time I entered high school I had developed a strong sense of what I needed to survive?

An Impossible Challenge to Win

2009-05-08T20:19:00.000-07:00

On one of my final trips back to Columbia Presbyterian Hospital I had my usual radiation and TEM treatments. For some reason I felt an extreme anxiety about needing to stay at the hospital for a few days, so I had a serious talk with the doctors about being allowed to recuperate at the apartment instead of the hospital. Their initial response was negative, but having known these doctors for years, I had the necessary nerve to implore them to at least reconsider. They left the room and when they returned a few minutes later they made a "deal" with me. I listened with intense interest as they laid out the rules for me to accept or reject. All I needed to do was show them that I had the ability to maintain a calm stomach (no vomiting) for only four hours. They warned me that this would be an impossible task, but I paid no attention to that detail because I knew that if I was successful, I would be released and therefore allowed to go with Mom back to the apartment. I immediately accepted the challenge, feeling nothing but confidence in my ability to win. I have a crystal-clear memory of sitting on the edge of the bed with my attention focused on the large wall clock on the opposite side of the room.

It didn't take long for me to realise that I might have reason to doubt my confidence. Within the first hour, the ever-dreaded nausea took a solid hold of my entire being. But due to my desperation, I would not give in without a valiant effort! Within minutes of the onslaught of the nausea, I lost all the contents of my stomach (a nice way of describing vomit). I was ready to accept defeat, when suddenly I considered the possibility of renegotiating our agreement. I had the quick suggestion that we could reset the time in order to start over. You see, I figured that since I had already lost everything in my stomach, there may be nothing left to lose (another nice way of describing vomit). The doctors were willing to accept my proposal. Lucky me! I had another chance to succeed.

I'm quite certain that you have already figured out the ending to this chapter of my journey. You're correct if your assumption was that I had no chance of winning this challenge. Yes, I had a three-night stay in my hospital bed...sad but true. The powerful strength of nausea may have won back then, but while looking back at the memory, I can't help but have a quiet smile within as I touch into the fact that I also had a powerful strength within me to fight for what I needed. What I had originally considered as another heartbreaking example of my wretched sense of desperation as a fear-filled little girl, was in truth an early example of the power and sense of growth and determination I possessed. Believe me, these traits would play an important part in my journey with LIVING.

Oral Roberts?? Really?!

2009-05-06T20:21:00.000-07:00

As a kid, I didn't have the patience to wait for my pleas to be answered, so I took it upon myself to look for my own solution. I was watching television one Sunday morning and I saw a man named Oral Roberts. As I watched his show I learned he was a serious preacher who believed in providing his followers with whatever type of miracle they needed. I was fascinated with his spellbinding promises and mesmerized by his unusual approach to healing. He invited any of the people in his congregation who needed a prayer to be answered, to merely step forward and he would personally lay his hand on the person's head while he contacted God with the request. I observed person after person approaching him and quickly being healed of their illness or frailty. I was amazed and completely curious! At one point he turned to the camera and invited his viewing audience to put a hand on the screen and merely request to be healed. I felt hesitant and a bit apprehensive as I carefully turned around to make certain that no one from my family saw me as I placed my right hand on the screen. I waited for a burst of light to pour into the room announcing the miracle to be granted. I kept waiting, waiting, waiting until I thought that maybe I had placed the wrong hand on the screen, so I put up my left hand...still nothing. As I dropped my hand down, I felt betrayed. Who could I blame? Oral Roberts? God? Me? I quickly clicked off television and never turned on that show again. I felt a bit foolish for hoping that a cure for cancer would happen by simply touching a TV screen, but isn't it a pointedly sad illustration of the true depth of my desperation?

All of our family struggles did seem to bring us together with a special bond built on the solid foundation of survival and determination. Facing each challenge with Dad's drinking or Mary's physical or mental needs, we would gather together and tackle the obstacle with as much of a united front as possible, Mom always leading. Her powerful faith was the main glue that kept us happy and focused on the positive aspects of life. Mom shared her faith with each of us on a daily basis, and we followed her model as dutiful children.

During this time, my relationship with the Catholic religion was growing and developing, while becoming a major part of my daily life. I was enrolled in a parochial elementary and middle school, so I had the opportunity throughout my formative years to learn all the policies and principles of the Roman Catholic Church. I took it all quite seriously as I attempted to faithfully follow each set of guidelines as it would be presented. I was trying to lead my life based on all the facts I had to memorize from the Baltimore Catechism. What an effective way to show God how worthy I was! Throughout these years I continued to feel like a freak, but I was becoming more calloused to the way I would let it affect my outward attitude. Remember, I could easily calm the hurt and pain with food or humor. My Pandora's Box was also never far from my reach. These coping techniques were successful for numerous years. Although once I remember wondering what would ever happen if Pandora's Box was ever opened and exposed. Indeed!

A Closer Look Back

2009-05-03T22:14:00.001-07:00

Before I continue with the next part of my journey, I believe it is important to take a step back and explain in more detail the root of some of my early feelings and beliefs. I have mentioned how protective I was of my mom, but it is time for me to say more about that level of defensive caring I felt. You see, after we returned to Madison from our six week stay in NYC, my dad slowly began drinking more and more to help deal with anxiety and stress. When my sister was born with Down's syndrome, this only added to all of our worries. What I secretly wondered to myself was, could the mental and physical upheaval of my illness have caused both of these situations to occur? Could the underlying causes of Mary's mental development and my dad's entry into the world of alcoholism be due to me? I took on a deep sense of guilt remorse and responsibility for possibly bringing all this tension, grief, sadness and turmoil to my family. What could I do to help contain the disruption I may have caused?

This was the beginning of my need and desire to protect Mom from as much pain as possible. My goal was to make myself available to help with Mary, run little errands or do almost anything else needed to make her day run as smoothly as possible. Anything except clean the house, since my sister Kathie was always the queen of cleaning, so why not let that be her domain? I would try not to disagree with Mom or cause silly fights with my siblings. Looking back, I think I felt the desire to let her know through my behavior and actions how sorry I was for causing so much worry and concern. Being quietly protective was my way of earning forgiveness for all the turmoil I had caused to our family. Now, as an adult, I realize my limited powers of insight and awareness were due to the fact that again I was attempting to understand adult issues through the mind and heart of a child.

Mom and I developed a special bond through our many trips to New York, and all that faced us with each trip. She had to answer some serious questions from me, and she had to choose her words carefully so that she wouldn't frighten me with her response. There was a little boy who had become my friend over visits when our treatment times overlapped, and I had begun to look forward to seeing him each time I arrived. But after two consecutive visits without seeing him, I asked Mom, "Where is Timmy?" She had to delicately explain that even though the doctors had worked hard to stop his tumor from growing, they weren't successful. When I still was unable to understand what she was trying to tell me about Timmy, she had to again choose her words carefully as she gently explained that he had died. I was shocked by fact that his little white spot could make him die!! It took many tears, long moments of quiet thinking and many hugs of comfort until I finally comprehended that those little white spots could be extremely serious!
I never again questioned Mom about any of my fellow patients who seemed to be missing. In reality, as my level of understanding of the scope and sequence of retinablastoma increased, my level of fear also increased. My prayers to God became more urgent and my need to prove my worthiness also increased. My, my, so much for one little mortal child to balance...but my strong faith assured me that my prayers would be heard. Heard? I not only wanted my peas to be heard, I also needed to have them granted so that I could lead a life without cancer and without paralyzing fear!!

Pandora's Box

2009-04-29T06:48:00.000-07:00

Mom was forever grateful that I had successfully recovered from the surgery and was now on a treatment plan, so that's why she considered me so lucky. I didn't want to disagree with her, but deep down it was impossible to consider myself lucky without setting precise limitations on the definition. At times while being protective of Mom's feelings and her level of stress, I would feel like I should try pretending, and not being honest. It was at these times that I needed to find a safe place to secretly store all my genuine feelings, those feelings that I couldn't openly share with anyone. It was as if I gradually created my own personal Pandora's box, where all my authentic thoughts, feelings and fears could safely be stored. It was the one place where I could be real, open and honest with myself. If this sounds unusual or extreme, remember I was this young girl who was being careful not to be a nuisance or cause any unnecessary trouble for my family or friends.

For several years Mom and I had to regularly head back to New York for me to receive a check-up, TEM and radiation. For me, the trips out to NYC were definitely more difficult than the trips back home because each time we boarded the train, plane or bus, I would be filled with an unnatural fear about the outcome of my check-up. What if the tumor had grown, or if there was a new tumor to worry about? It is difficult for me to explain how I would spend these days begging God to let everything just be okay. During these years, it was important to have meticulously good behavior, while secretly believing this painstaking effort would be the best way for me to show God that I was worthy enough to have my pleas granted.

After returning from New York, I would feel as though I had been given a reprieve or official pardon, and I could live with less fear and more enjoyment. Breathing easier meant that I could have more fun and be less concerned about receiving negative news. I would still need to go for weekly blood work at the UW hospital, but it was much less painful and stressful than my time in NYC. I consistently went to church and Mass as often as possible each week because I believed that God was the whole key to receiving a free pass for a life without cancer. I held onto that belief for several years, until I came face-to-face with the hard reality that I was wrong!! How surprised was I?!

New Relationships

2009-04-27T16:15:00.000-07:00

There were many things that confused and worried me during my first months home, but I never discussed them with anyone. Mom had given birth to my sister Mary, who was born with Down's syndrome. This added a new level of anxiety and worry to our family, so I didn't want to add any extra stress to anyone. Again, I was dealing with all these concerns with the emotional development of a seven year old, so much of my processing was askew due to my lack of maturity. I never realized how off center my conclusions were. Now when a child goes through a life-changing surgery, I would hope that counseling would be made available to both the patient and family. But this was over fifty years ago, and things were quite different in terms of mental and emotional health support.

During this perplexing time I turned to three relationships that I could access without the need of an adult. My first connection was with food. One day my mom brought me a huge, spiral-decorated lollipop in the hospital. I can vividly remember the sweetness of it and the amount of sheer pleasure it gave me during an otherwise unpleasant day. My bond with food was set in stone from that day forward, and it would be years before I understood all the dimensions of this relationship. Humor was my second connection . I quickly realized how easily I could get peers and adults to like me if I could just make them laugh. I believed that if people liked me, then they wouldn't be so quick to harshly judge my appearance. You see, it didn't take me long after arriving home before I began to think of myself as a kind of freak. At school we never talked about celebrating differences, and that was fine with me because my goal was simple...stay under the radar. Humor came more naturally to me than constantly trying to be aware of what angle I was facing people. As you might expect, that was too exhausting to maintain. My relationship with God was my third connection, and it was as off kilter as the other two. I spent all my time with God begging, pleading, bartering and promising... whatever it would take to make me feel safe and secure in this big scary world that surrounded me.

With all this insecurity, sadness and fear swirling around inside of me, can you imagine how I felt when my mom would regularly remind me to give thanks for being so lucky?! Oh my, I needed to get a different dictionary, because I did not understand her definition of lucky!

"What's Wrong With Your Eye?"

2009-04-25T13:46:00.000-07:00

I wasn't aware of it at the time, but those weeks in New York took away a large chunk of my childhood as I had known it, and replaced it with a confusing world heavy with a feeling of fear. The experience threw me into to a life filled with intense adult issues. Through all of this, I was dealing with everything at the emotional level of a seven year old. Reflecting back, it's no wonder that I was having such a difficult time processing what was going on inside me and outside. I felt that I couldn't burden my mom with all my questions, thoughts and feelings because she was close to giving birth to a new life and she was already weighed down by her worries about me as well as for my brothers and sister back in Madison.

The night we returned home seemed magical because we were surrounded by family and a joyous celebration. I now appreciated all the details Madison offered, from the size of our city to the absolute quiet that surrounded me when I turned out the lights in my bedroom. Everything about New York had seemed enormous, including the amount of city lights, the never-ending traffic, noise and crowds of people in all directions. Madison seemed safe and comfortably manageable.

I had looked forward to returning to Wisconsin where I could resume the life that had abruptly been taken from me. I had daydreams of spending fun-filled days with all my family and friends, while leaving all the darkness of tests, surgeries and treatments behind me in New York. Oh, such a beautiful dream, but far from the reality that faced Mom and me after we returned. It was as though someone had packed a suitcase with all of my fears, worries and uncertainties and sent the suitcase home with me. All it took was an innocent question from a friend..."What's wrong with your eye?" At that moment I felt like I might throw up. All I could frantically think about was what had I done wrong? I obviously hadn't looked at him from the right angle like Dr. Reese had explained I should do. It was then that I realized my life would look different, I would look different, and my new reality would look different.

Learning How to Hide a Secret

2009-04-23T16:41:00.000-07:00

The six weeks we spent in New York were filled with many trips to the hospital for TEM and for radiation treatments . The TEM was the most difficult for me because I would have to stay in the hospital for a few days after each treatment since it would make me so violently ill. I have a vivid memory of trying so hard to handle the nausea and sickness, but it was the first of many times I had to accept the fact that I had no control over it. The radiation was the scariest due to the fact that each time I would need to climb up on the treatment table and lie very still so that they could sandbag my upper body and head to keep me immobile . When this was completed, everyone would leave the room. I was a motionless little body on top of this high table all alone in an empty room with a big machine slowly coming toward my head. The door to the room had a small rectangular window in it where I could just see partial faces peeking in at me. I felt so tiny and defenseless, almost paralyzed with fear. Each time after treatment, I would take that heavy feeling of powerlessness home with me. Being only seven, that feeling of helplessness was hard for me to fully comprehend, so it would stay with me for days.

Initially it was difficult for me to understand how rare it was to have an eye removed, since I was around so many others just like me in the hospital. One morning in a small neighborhood bakery, the man behind the counter commented on the eye patch I was wearing. He asked, "Oh honey, did you get a little boo boo in your eye?" I quickly answered, "No, they had to take my eye out." I still can picture the horrified look on his face, as he apologized over and over! At that point I did not understand why he was so utterly shocked by my response, and I wondered if I had said something wrong. My mom explained that many people had never met someone who had an eye removed. I processed that for a long time before concluding that maybe I shouldn't be as open and honest when talking about my surgery. I didn't want others to look at me with horror, like the baker.

That summer there were many skills I had to be taught before returning back to Madison. I had to be fitted for a prosthetic eye, and learn how to care for it properly. This took lots of practice on my part, but finally I mastered it. One afternoon after an appointment with Dr. Reese, we took the elevator back to the clinic. During that short ride, he told me something that would literally change me forever! He began by complimenting me on my ability to become skilled with all this new knowledge, and then he said quite seriously, "You know, Laura, if you look at people in just the right way and the right angle, they will never know you have a prosthesis." I quickly understood that people should never be able to tell that I was different in any way! Do I need to tell you what a profound influence those few words had on the rest of my life, from that day forward?!

My New Reality

2009-04-22T18:48:00.000-07:00

My first recollection after waking up from surgery was the mammoth size of the room. I was in a room with at least eight other beds. I was aware of the amount of bandages covering my head, and the fact that I felt a lot of pain and very sick. There were nurses all around me who were all trying to help me feel more comfortable, but nothing seemed to help. My mom and aunt were near my bed, but unable to get close because of all the activity. I slowly fell back asleep and have no more memories until the next day when I woke up and found Mom sitting by my bed, holding my hand and telling me what a great job I had done. She explained how well the surgery had gone and how the only thing I had to think about now was getting better. I thought Dr. Reese must have taken care of the white dot, and I would be able to go home as soon as I felt stronger. I knew I could do that!

Can you imagine how I felt a few days later when Mom and Dr. Reese put into plain words the fact that my eye had to be removed because of the size of dot? This was followed by the fact that there was also a white dot in my other eye that would need to be treated before it could grow any larger. As I was listening to all this information, I felt like I was floating in outer space while watching a sad movie about some other girl's life. I didn't understand the seriousness of how this was about to impact my life, but I did know that I could run away and go someplace they couldn't find me. Isn't that how any typical seven year old reacts when told something he/she doesn't want to hear? I guess I was experiencing being a typical child for possibly the last time, before entering a very real fight for my life.

After an extended stay in the hospital, I was finally released to go back to the apartment where we would be staying for the remainder of the treatments I would be receiving. Good-bye to the Barbizon with air conditioned comfort and doormen, and hello to what was the predecessor to the Ronald MacDonald House, without any of the amenities. We were on the fifth floor above the hustle, bustle and noise of New York City. There were two bedrooms, one tiny bathroom, a small living room and kitchenette for two families to share. We liked the family that was sharing the space with us. Their infant daughter also had retinablastoma and had undergone surgery, and was also about to undergo treatment. This meant we all had a long stay ahead of us, away from family and friends. We bonded immediately.

The scorching summer heat of New York was our only true discomfort. With no air conditioning or fans and an almost eight month pregnant mom, we did our best to keep her as comfortable as possible. At night we would wrap her neck with a frigid towel, and many of our days were spent at the hospital. I received two types of treatment, one being radiation and the other was called TEM, that being a precursor to chemotherapy. I never could remember what the acronym stood for, but many years later Mom told me that TEM was mustard gas. Finding that out helped explain why I would get so violently ill each time I would receive a treatment.
During these many weeks in New York, I had a chance to begin comprehending my new reality!

Forever Changed

2009-04-21T11:40:00.000-07:00

Nothing could have prepared me for New York City. Getting off the train, I was confronted with noise, people, smells and frenetic energy that I had never experienced in Madison. I was busily distracted by this heightened level of living when I realized we were getting into a taxi cab. Mom, Aunt Mary and I were squeezed into the back seat of this terribly hot cab, and before I had the time to take a breath, we flew out into traffic at a speed that amazed me. Our driver spent the entire trip screaming at other drivers. He swerved in and out of his lane, everyone seemed to get in his way. He was using some "naughty" words filled with raw emotions. I remember wondering what my mom was thinking about his bad language. I didn't recognize many of his word choices, but I was quite certain that if I used even one of them, I would get my mouth washed out with soap.
We safely arrived at the Barbizon Hotel. Having never been at a hotel, I was impressed with everything about it. There was a doorman, a check-in station, and a bellhop who helped us carry our luggage to our air conditioned room. This adventure was beyond anything I could ever have imagined, until at bedtime when Mom told me she had made an appointment to meet with a doctor who would give us information about the problem I was having with my eye. I told her I was confused because I didn't feel that I was having any problem. Well, that was the perfect opening for her to have a solemn talk with me about the possible seriousness of that white dot in my eye. She explained that we came to New York to meet with this special doctor who knew a lot about how to take care of the white dot.
On the way to the hospital where we were meeting Dr. Reese, I have a vivid memory of looking out the cab window at all the huge buildings that were slicing into the sky. I felt very small and fearfully intimidated by these giants. At that point, all I wanted was to go to the train station and head back to the safety of home. I was ready for this adventure to be over, although in reality the scary adventure was only beginning.
After the appointment I was informed that Dr. Reese wanted me to check into Columbia Presbyterian Hospital the next morning so that he could do the necessary surgery to remove the white dot. I kept thinking, "Then everything will be okay." I kept repeating that until falling asleep in the comfort of the air conditioned hotel room.

Loss of Innocence

2009-04-20T12:38:00.000-07:00

I was leading a very uneventful life back in 1954. I had an older brother and sister along with a younger brother. Mom was due to have another baby in September, so that would put me right in the middle of my siblings. During summer vacations, we would spend most of our days outside playing with the rest of the kids from the neighborhood. We lived on a cul de sac which provided us a safe place to ride our bikes and play endless games of kickball. We would have regular trips to the beach which was a block away. There was the Village Store across from the park, so we knew we would have the opportunity to stop in to choose little snacks for just a few pennies. Life was simple, love-filled, and comfortably predictable.

One afternoon in late June Mom called me inside to ask me one question. She gently asked me to cover my left eye and then tell her what I saw in her hand. If I guessed correctly, I would be able to eat it. I remember how excited that made me because we were always expected to share our treats with our siblings. I was motivated to win, so I knew all I'd have to do was look hard and think hard. I could not see what she held, but I did think there must be a piece of candy...so that was my guess. I was shocked when I uncovered my left eye and saw a pad of paper.

A neighbor had brought Mom's attention to a white mark on my left eye. She suggested they bring me to an eye doctor to have it examined, but Mom thought she would first do her own test to determine if I had vision in both eyes. The test results were confirming her biggest fear, so within a day I had an appointment with an eye doctor who was able to identify what it was, but informed us that I would have to travel to New York City to have the surgery.

I didn't know anything about these facts, as I was only told that Mom and I would be going on an adventure to a large city with my favorite Aunt Mary. Silly me, I was excited about going on my first train ride and being able to sleep and eat our meals on the train. It was a tremendous new way to spend my vacation. I do remember that many of the adults were looking at me with a sadness in their faces and eyes. My grandma even sobbed when she said good-bye to us at the station. As I hugged her, I reminded her that we would all be safely back home soon. I thought maybe many seemed sad because they had to stay home as we headed east on our adventure. I also received several holy cards with promises of prayers for me, and again I tried to make sense of it by thinking maybe this style of card and prayers were gifted to those going on an extended trip. Wow, going on a summer vacation kept making me feel more and more extraordinary!

I heard my mom and aunt having quiet conversations on the train trip, whispering throughout many of them. The only word I didn't know was cancer. I wondered, "What does that word have to do with our special time together and why was I the lucky one to be chosen to go?"

It's Called WHAT?!!

2009-04-19T12:50:00.000-07:00

When Dr. Schink arrived to share the final diagnosis, my initial response was one of shock and bewilderment because I had never heard of a cancer that sounded even remotely similar to it! Leiomyosarcoma sounded scarily serious. For now it was in my life, so I wanted to be able to at least pronounce and spell it correctly. Maybe then it wouldn't seem as intimidating, complex, or dangerous.

After explaining the basic information he felt we should know, Dr. Schink warned us to not look it up on the Internet. Honestly, hearing that made my mind effortlessly go to a dark place full of frightful images of the unknown possibilities. I forced my attention to return to my hospital room and complete the discussion, after which I felt mentally and physically exhausted, and I needed a nap. I closed my eyes and quietly recited again and again the Serenity Prayer. Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Eventually I fell into a peaceful rest, with my little acorn clenched in my hand.

We were told about the tests being run to determine if the cancer had spread to any lymph nodes or tissues around the site. It would take a few days to receive the results, so Jim, Jessica and I had many hours to fill. I was even watching soap operas and talk shows because it was mindless chatter that didn't require mental effort on my part. At that point I had the attention span of a gnat and I was beyond full in the processing department of my thoughts. Light fluffy material was what worked for me.

My husband and daughter were perfect companions that complemented each other's strengths. It was difficult for Jim to sit and chat for an extended period of time, so he was happy to be the gofer guy who ran errands and took care of all the work at home. Jessica, on the other hand, was able to be in my room day and night. Yes, she was allowed to stay with me each night. She would listen to my fears and joys, panics and plans for my future, deeply serious and abundantly silly thoughts, and all with a trusted understanding of respect.

My friends and entire family showered me with prayers and endless offers of support and encouragement. Everyone understood limiting visitors due to my need to use this time to begin the healing of my body. I was physically exhausted from the surgery and mentally challenged by the fact that my life would be forever different in unknown ways.

The test results showed the cancer had not spread to any lymph nodes or near-by tissue! Tears dripping with joy and relief flowed freely. This news meant that I may possibly be released to go home soon. Before this could happen, there were a few issues that needed to be addressed. I buckled my seat belt, preparing to receive my first transfusion, which would be followed by my first liver biopsy. This visit to UWCCC was filled with all kinds of firsts, but not everything about cancer was a first for me.

Now may be the logical time to share with you the details of my two previous cancer journeys in my life. I believe this will help you understand the cornerstone of my emotional belief system, and how this system had such a profound affect on my life.

My Intuitive Feelings

2009-04-14T11:08:00.000-07:00

Being in a hospital bed gave me an abundance of time to ponder my future. After a morning visit from my surgeon, I knew that I had at least a day before we would find out what type of tumor they had removed. He explained that he was puzzled because he couldn't readily identify it during surgery, which he was most often able to do. After Dr. Schink left my room, I asked Jessica to contact Francis, my spiritual teacher, and tell her about my surgery and ask if there was an opening for me to come on retreat as soon as I felt strong enough to travel. I knew that flying to California wouldn't be an easy trip, but I trusted my feeling that now was the time to begin making sense of how to best handle what was happening in my life.

There's a degree of irony when considering that before the discovery of the tumor, I felt much too involved in my busyness to go on retreat that summer. I was taking classes toward my Masters, working at Talbots, private tutoring for students in reading and math, and spending time with my first grandchild. Isn't it interesting how quickly my priorities shifted when confronted with cancer? The 11cm tumor was my brick wall...the thing that finally drew my attention away from the plethora of inane commitments that consumed much of my time and energy. Could I have been so engrossed in creating and maintaining my idea of a perfect life that I had lost the sense of what is of true importance in leading an authentically fulfilled life?

I received two treasured gifts for my trip to the hospital, one being a Demdaco Angel of Strength from my daughter, with the inscription "Be strong, and when you can't, let me be strong for you"...Love, Jessica. The other was a hand-knit little acorn from Susie. Having grown up on Oak Court, I had shared with her the strong connection I felt to oak trees for their power and strength, and to the acorn for the new life it represented. As I clutched this hand-knit acorn and read the inscription from Jessica, I was reminded that I already had support close to me, and all that I needed in my uncharted journey ahead would be provided.

Preparation for Surgery

2009-04-12T09:36:00.000-07:00

Within an hour of being admitted, I found out explicitly many of the details I needed to know about my impending bowel prep. After bringing in two huge jugs full of Go Lightly, the nurse gently told me that patients often experienced difficulty keeping the contents in their system long enough to complete both containers. She offered to put a feeding tube down my nose and throat if my body rejected the Go Lightly. That was all I needed to hear before I immediately resolved to welcome each and every drop into my mouth. Jessica pledged to help in whatever way would be helpful...teamwork at its best!

It didn't take long before we both decided the contents needed to be renamed. Go Lightly, Run Quickly seemed so much more appropriate! We spent the afternoon energetically focused on using whatever technique was helpful in keeping me motivated to reach my goal... praying, positive words of encouragement, counting time between sips, laughing, crying, cajoling. The final outcome was finally achieved, just in time for a nurse to arrive with two enemas. By then I felt as though I had a thorough answer to my earlier question about a bowel prep. I learned one missing detail before sunrise the next day when I was awakened to receive an antibiotic enema. By the time I went to surgery, I'm pretty sure that I didn't have many bodily fluids left.

Before leaving for the operating room, I shared a quiet prayer with Jim and Jessica. I continued to experience a deep fear and anxiety, so upon saying my good-byes, I chose to visualize a white healing light of divine energy resting on my shoulder. This visualization filled me with a peaceful feeling that ran throughout my body. Even though I was entering into the unknown, I was at peace. What an incredible gift to receive! After surgery to remove the tumor, I learned they also had to remove a section of my bowel. Now I was thankful that I had entered the procedure with as "clean" a bowel as humanly possible. I felt like I had been prepared both physically and spiritually.

Expanding My Vocabulary

2009-04-10T18:24:00.000-07:00

As soon as I was able to compose myself, I called my brother George to ask if he could speak with someone affiliated with the Comprehensive Cancer Center who could get me an appointment asap. George was my logical choice since he was on the board of directors at the UW hospital. When he returned my call, he was able to give me the first glimmer of good news: I had an appointment on July 8th with a gynecological oncologist, a job title that I never thought would enter my vocabulary.

During the Fourth of July holiday my husband, Jim, and I had planned on hosting a birthday party for our granddaughter who was turning one. Setting up for Piper's birthday occupied my mind and body, but lurking behind each moment was the foreboding reality that I was coming face-to-face with the terrifying unknown of cancer. I could only distract myself for a limited amount of time before another unanswerable question would pop into my conscious thought. Most of these questions would begin with a "What if" and end with a sharp shiver of dread running through my body.

During those endless days of waiting, I prayed for strength and a sense of peace as I traveled along this dark and mysterious part of my journey. I was in a state of limbo, feeling like I was walking through Jell-o in slow motion. My days felt like a cocktail of fear, anxiety and Jell-o.

When filling out the paperwork for admission on the morning of the 8th, I was casually informed that I was also scheduled for surgery early the next morning. Initially I wondered who had determined that I would need surgery before being seen by any doctor there, but then I figured that all my test results had already arrived and surgery must have been deemed necessary. I immediately felt in capable hands, even though the only person I had contact with was the admissions clerk. I remember trying to read the form she was filling out. Being a primary teacher has its perks, one being that I was highly skilled at reading upside down print. I read something foreign to me, so I leaned over to Jim and asked, "What's a bowel prep?"

Harsh Realities

2009-04-09T19:28:00.000-07:00

On the first day of the 2001 summer vacation I had an appointment with my Family Practice doctor. During the exam he felt something in my abdomen.He told me not to worry because it was most likely scar tissue from an earlier surgery to remove fibroid tumors, but he wanted me to get it checked out. What followed was a solid month of going from doctor to doctor, test to test, appointment to appointment. Meeting with so many unknown doctors was scary, intimidating, and coldly impersonal. I wanted them to understand the depth of my fear. After each test I would return home to wait for the results, becoming desperate for a sense of direction, something that would lead to a diagnosis and treatment. I was beginning to feel like a piece of meat being passed from inspector to inspector, with none of them able to grade or label me.

The final insult came when a substitute nurse called to give me the long-awaited verdict. The regular nurse was on vacation, taking advantage of the Fourth of July holiday. Our conversation began with her mispronouncing my name, and was followed by her trying to explain why the doctor was not available to speak with me. You see, he was wrapping up all his business so that he, too, could leave for his long holiday weekend. She explained that my case was more involved than "they" felt equipped to handle, so I should contact the UW Comprehensive Cancer Center after the holiday. I hung up feeling like I had been slugged by an all-powerful fist. I could barely breathe much less answer any of the questions my daughter had concerning my diagnosis. She strongly encouraged me to call back, insisting to speak with the physician. After extended minutes of gut-wrenching sobs, I gathered up every atom of courage I had and phoned his office, firmly asking to have a few moments with the busy doctor. When he picked up the call, even I was surprised with what escaped from my mouth! "Is this the way you would want your mother to be treated?" hung in the air for several moments. "I don't care if you're leaving for a long weekend, I deserve more than a call from your nursing substitute." He apologized for his insensitivity and proceeded to explain the complexity of my case. He assured me that he would put in a call to the UW before he left so that they would be expecting me.

This was the day I learned that no matter how vulnerable you feel, you must stand up for your beliefs and rights. If you don't, who will?

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The Beginning

2009-04-08T17:55:00.000-07:00

Have you ever felt a nudge, that little voice inside that encourages you to make a certain choice or go in a certain direction in your life? Well, over the years I have learned to deeply listen and trust the quiet directives I receive. It is through those instincts or intuitions that I feel drawn to share the inner lessons that I've gathered along the way in this unexpected journey of mine. So in the days ahead I will be opening up all the little and big, difficult and easy, long-term and short-term learnings that have come my way during my 61 years on this earth.

It's during my quiet times that I now connect with these invitations. But you should know that this level of trust did not come easily for me. I ignored the little voice for many years because I was too busy living the perfect life. I was so entangled with busyness that I didn't have the time, energy, or space to fit meditation into my schedule.

Looking back, I think of those times as the yoo-hoo moments that I totally ignored. I didn't RSVP to any of the invitations I was receiving to enter into the silence. It wasn't until June 2001, when I heard the words, "You have an 11 centimeter tumor in your abdomen," that now was the time to begin paying attention.