Today I Vow

Mind your thoughts.

2010-12-17T08:55:00.000-08:00

Confession: I am not a Star Wars, Star Trek, or any other Star connoisseur. The first time I watched Star Wars was when it was re-released in theaters in 1997 at the Cine Capri in Phoenix. I vaguely remember seeing all three of the original movies and then seeing Episode 4, but still having to be explained in detail why everything was out of order and who was who.

There were, however, some kick ass lines in those movies. Many profound and useful words to live by, in my opinion.

One that came up for me recently is "Mind your thoughts." I believe the entire line is "Mind your thoughts, Anakin."

My husband and I were talking about some friends we have. We think certain things they do are a little strange. We all have those conversations after visiting or talking with friends then recounting the meeting with a trusted friend or partner. Suddenly, I was really listening to the words we were saying and I asked, "What do you suppose they think is weird about us? Or, what do you suppose they talk about when discussing us?"

It's all too easy to believe we are the normal ones in the world and everyone out there is abnormal, or not quite right.

Then again, even more recently, I was spending some time with a friend whom I generally care for but am bothered by so many of her quirks. I found myself unable to fall asleep because I was nitpicking her apart. She's not cruel by any means but I found myself just going on and on about everything I feel she needs to change. It's not just her, I could easily sit here and think of at least a handful of other friends that I do the same thing with, in my head.

Suddenly, the scene shifted, and I wondered: what if everything I dislike in her I really dislike in myself?

What if I only see all these things because she is a reflection of me? Because we tend to draw people into our life that are a reflection of what's going on inside, what if she is in my life to point out what I dislike so much about myself?

Instead of pointing the finger outside of me and pointing out what I view to be wrong with other people, Today I Vow to see that all the judgments I have in my head about others are actually a direct reflection of what is going on within me.

"Watch your thoughts, for they become words.
Watch your words, for they become actions.
Watch your actions, for they become habits.
Watch your habits, for they become character.
Watch your character, for it becomes your destiny."

Unknown

Ten Years Out...

2010-02-18T17:49:00.000-08:00

At this very moment, ten years ago today, my son Blake was dead. I was in a coma; my brain swelling, bleeding in my left temporal lobe, bruised lung...

We had been hit at 55mph by a red light runner who never applied her brakes. I was making a left hand turn into our apartment complex. I was a single mother. I was 25. I was fiercely independent. I was a student. I was a waitress. She t-boned the right side of my car.

My head hit both front doors. There was less than 18 inches of room left where I sat.

Blake was in the middle of the back seat. The correct seat in the correct location. The impact was too much for his little 17 month-old body. While he did get a cut on his head, what actually killed him was his heart literally broke. He never regained consciousness, although he did cough once. There were many witnesses who are now scarred for life.

He was transported by helicopter to Phoenix Children's Hospital where he was pronounced dead.

I was taken to another hospital where the head ER doctors were sick to their bones of victims of red light runners being brought in. And here was another...whose son was dead.

It was a beautiful Phoenix Friday.

My mother was at a funeral. Her brother was trying to contact her but her phone was off. She left the funeral telling her friends about "Mr. Busy" and her pride and joy shone from her face. Then she got a message.

She arrived at the hospital where I was. Not wanting Blake to be alone, she asked where he was. My uncle had to tell her. My sister was there. My uncle, a Phoenix police officer was there, as was his wife. The halls began to fill with friends and family.

Relatives flew in. Hotels were booked. Vigils were kept. Prayers were said. Hands were held. Tears were shed. Numbness abounded.

Doctors didn't know what to tell my family and friends. They didn't know if I would live. They couldn't predict if the swelling in my brain would stop.

Minutes, hours, days passed.

Thankfully, someone knew Joanne of MISS. A relative called. "Don't bury that baby," she warned. "Until you know for sure Katie is going to live or die." Joanne wanted desperately to come to the hospital, but I don't think my family actually asked her to come. The instincts of my Irish Catholic family were to bury Blake as soon as possible. So I am grateful that they at least listened to that one piece of advice. She also told them to let me see the baby, but their brains could not wrap around that detail, so I was never offered. I never got to see him again. And I'm pretty pissed about that.

Five days later I began to emerge from the coma; answering direct commands here and there. Never staying awake for more than several seconds. But I would live. It was obvious my entire right side was not operating and my short term memory was also gone.

Blake was buried on February 29 - Leap Day. I was able to attend the funeral. It was simply a graveside service. I had as much a part in the planning as I could. I knew I wanted him to wear his cute little jeans. And I wanted him to have his special red blanket. I wanted tulips. And I knew I wanted to play Jewel's "Angel Standing By." There was a priest that Blake's father had there, and there was a chaplain from the church where I was going. I wanted to smack that priest many times. Many.

Only a few of my friends were allowed to come. They weren't allowed to talk to me either. The doctors had warned my parents that I needed to have no stimulation, no drama, get me in and out. Oh, and they drugged me before I left the hospital. It was so awful. I have such a deep distrust for doctors now. Yes, I get it, they really thought they were helping, but sheesh!

My stepfather wheeled me past Blake's coffin not stopping, not allowing me to even touch it. Later, my friend Jennifer, told me she kissed the coffin for me and left her lip prints on it. That makes me happy and I think of that so often.

I spent another five weeks in the hospital being taught how to walk and write again. Being awoken every morning at 7 to get ready for a hours of physical and cognitive therapies. I soon began hiding all the pain killers and pills they were bringing. I hated the way they made me feel.

I can remember so clearly lying in that bed feeling as though my entire world had been pulled out from under me. I no longer believe God existed. How could he? Before the crash I would pray and pray, begging "God" not to take my son. I would go to sleep with tears from begging so hard. I always had a feeling Blake's stay on earth was not going to be long. Always had that feeling.

My brother was visiting and he said something funny and I laughed hard and loud. Then I felt an anvil drop on my chest. How dare I laugh when my son is dead! How dare I. I didn't laugh freely for a while after that.

I was discharged in half the time the doctors expected me to stay. I worked hard and I have no idea why.

My parents put a bed and tv in their living room and that's where I had to live. I had so many friends. So many amazing, loving friends who would visit me often. Many generous relatives always trying to help.

I went to bed crying every single night for at least a year. Reliving those last moments, or the immediate moments after the crash. I wasn't conscious so I would drill everyone around me on what they knew about those last moments - trying to piece together a picture in my head. I ached. I just ached desperately for my son. He was my buddy. He made me laugh. He loved me so deeply and I had never loved so deeply. I never hurt so deeply as I did in those raw, rare moments of being alone after he died.

I went to many MISS support meetings, mostly crying and crying. In fact, I can remember when I went to a MISS meeting and did not cry the entire time. I felt so accomplished.

Learning to walk the earth as a newly bereaved mother is a painful and isolating experience. People say the stupidest things all around you at all times. It took me a long long time to realize they mean well. Of course, I wish people would just shut up most of the time. But our society teaches us we have to fix things, and it's usually by saying stupid, hurtful things.

I was in Barrow's Neurological Rehab center for three full months. I accomplished that program in about half the time as well. What I learned there was to compensate for my brain injury. Sadly, in all of this medical attention, no one wanted to touch the "her son died" part of my file.

Gratefully, I had lots of MISS meetings and an amazing counselor whom I would see as often as twice a week for a while.

I also found the Red Means Stop Coalition to which I could lend my voice and story. Phoenix has the highest death rate caused by red light runners in the entire country.

Three years ago, on this same date, I was about 22 weeks pregnant with my daughter, Willow. My sister called hysterically screaming, "He's dead! He's dead!"

She found our father's body. He had died in his sleep. He was only 53. It was his heart. I screamed and screamed like I have never screamed in my life. A wise woman told me that by screaming that way, and releasing my pain, I probably saved the life of my daughter. I think she's right.

That time was awful. Truly awful.

********************************

In these past ten years:

I received a "Power of One" honor from Sen. John McCain
I received a "Survivor Award" from the Brain Injury Association
I wrote a book, "Grief's Journey...When a Child Dies"

I married a really wonderful man.
We have three amazing children - (the last one was born at home. WOO HOO!)

I have volunteered for MISS in several different aspects. (and will continue to do so)

I am currently enrolled in school to pursue a nursing degree.

I have started a cookie business. Oh Katie! Cookies

I have done some theater recently and will continue to do that as I can.

I have the most amazing pool of friends that anyone could ever ask for. I know that all I have to do is ask and most would help me in any way they could. I hope they all know that I would do the exact same.

This has truly been a horrific day. But I come here very rarely anymore, and I haven't been this dark in a long time.

I am living. I am alive. I am grateful. Finally, I can say those words and truly mean them. Finally.

A Sorry Apology

2009-11-05T05:02:00.000-08:00

In going about your day, how often do you say the word sorry? When you and another person come to the same spot in the store, each needing to go around the other. "Sorry."

When you couldn't get to your phone fast enough to answer a call before the voicemail picks up. "Sorry I missed your call."

If you forgot to bring the item you said you would bring while meeting a friend. "I'm so sorry."

I know if I listen to myself and others closely, we certainly are a "sorry" bunch.

Let's look at some definitions:

Sorry:

1.	feeling regret, compunction, sympathy, pity, etc.

2.	regrettable or deplorable; unfortunate; tragic.

3.	sorrowful, grieved, or sad.

4.	associated with sorrow; suggestive of grief or suffering; melancholy; dismal.

5.	wretched, poor, useless, or pitiful.

When I look through the above definitions I can't help but notice some deeply emotive words; Words that are poignant and emotionally charged.

Deplorable? Wretched? Useless? Tragic? Good grief, what have you done!?

I wonder if as we go about our day being "sorry" for so much do we inadvertently reinforce our self-hatred or feelings of worthlessness? Believing that all those around us are somehow worth more than ourselves. But we, as we make honest mistakes or experience that not everything is in our own hands, are not worth the common courtesy of understanding?

But we want to extend common courtesy to those in our lives who make casual oversights, right? So what's a healthier alternative? "I apologize."

Apology:

An acknowledgment expressing regret or asking pardon for a fault or offense.

This definition from the American Heritage Dictionary, 4th Edition, is the closest to what I am aiming for. Although still a bit harsh, it separates the action from the offendor. Which I guess is my entire point.

In life, we do or say things that are not appropriate or conducive to our surroundings or people. At what point are we truly sorry for having offended someone and at what point do we need to man-up and dole out an apology?

Personally, I tend to share a little too much of what goes flying through this brain of mine. Many friends call me bold and think I say whatever's on my mind. The truth is I spend at least 60-70% of every conversation biting my tongue. Hard to believe, huh? See? I have filters. Sometimes.

So when something comes flying out of my mouth (or my fingertips while typing) when do I apologize or say sorry? Well, depends. If I am truly joking with a good friend and I crossed a line somehow, and offended that friend when that wasn't my intention, I am truly sorry and will apologize.

However, when I'm expressing a thought or feeling and it's the way I really feel and someone gets offended, I may become a coward and apologize even though I'm not really sorry. If they get angry at me for expressing myself, well, what can I do? I can't apologize for having my thoughts and feelings. But I may apologize for the way in which I expressed myself. For example, if it's front of others, I will apologize for embarrassing someone. I will also listen and be open to what the offended would like to teach me about how what I feel upset them.

Another thing I'm big on is teaching people that if you are upset by something you read or something someone else says, that reaction is all within you. We each need to figure out our personal triggers and be aware of them as they come up. That would spare a great deal of blame and attack, if we each took accountability for not only our own actions, but our own feelings as well.

This is something I try to teach my toddlers. When my four year old son blames his two year old sister for making him angry. I point out that she did not "make" him angry, but I respect that he is "feeling" angry. Then I try to get him to think of ways we can fix the situation or move on. We can learn a lot about adults by hanging out with toddlers. It's easy for me to see how often adults have gotten stuck in the toddler phase and have not grown past that. Makes for a very frustrating world needing naps.

I love to learn. I love to stretch. I love to grow! There have been many many times in the past several years where I have been taught something I didn't know, shown something from a different angle. I have learned a lot.

If I have offended you or hurt your feelings, I am truly sorry. The next step for you is to figure out what it is about what I said/did that triggered your upset? Because as you know, nothing I do or say is personal. It can't be! I barely even know you. Even if I've known you since I was twelve, I don't really know you do I.

Today I vow to choose carefully between saying sorry, offering an apology, and finding a deep understanding of why I am so hurt by what others have said.

Scripts.

2009-08-07T15:32:00.000-07:00

When you are challenged in your life or when you are doted upon with kind words, what is the script you tell others?

Challenge: This always happens to me. This is the story of my life. Figures. I should have seen that coming. I want to trade my life with someone else. This was all a huge mistake. I can't do anything right. The world hates me.

Kindness: It was nothing. No, it doesn't look that great. You are too kind. Stop, you are embarrassing me. It's not mine, I borrowed it. No, no, no.

Within all of these words - which we can mistake for modesty - what is the real underlying meaning?

I'm not good enough.

What if I told you, you are correct. You are not good enough. Instead, You are amazing. You are great. You are a miracle. You blow my mind. You inspire me. You challenge me.

Consciously, and usually unconsciously, we have scripts that run through our heads with nary a thought before or after them. These scripts, which often were planted in our formative years by parents, teachers, and other people in power, can put us on a distinctive path in our life.

Barely lit with doubt and insecurity, we may meekly walk one path only to constantly stumble in our indecision. Floating along, not wanting to make waves but desperately needing everyone to like us and further validate our existence.

Or, we were gifted with self-assurance, a secure landing spot, and wings to soar. This path is lit from all directions - within and without - by self-love, critical thinking, personal accountability and a deep source of compassion.

I don't believe these are the only two paths. And I don't believe our life follows one or the other, nor are we locked in to one particular path. Life is ever-evolving; It is change. Everything is temporary.

The scripts that play in your head, the words you barely even hear or register, are also temporary. They are only in existence because on a deep level you believe them.

Self-worth comes from one thing - thinking that you are worthy.
Wayne Dyer

I challenge you to bring your scripts to the surface. Look at them. Chat with them. Examine them. Do they serve you any longer? Replace the ones that no longer serve you with meaningful affirmations. You will find your scripts will begin changing.

There is massive power in affirmations and changing the words we tell ourselves. Ask anyone who has been in an abusive relationship. The abuser rarely begins the abuse by physical beating. Instead, the abuser starts planting seeds of self-doubt by using words. It doesn't take long for a person to deeply believe these words, and remain unaware of what's really going on.

Today I Vow to examine the scripts I commonly use when speaking to others and when speaking to myself. I will choose one script to replace by using an affirmation.

Connections

2009-08-02T15:50:00.000-07:00

Recently, I have been inadvertently spending time with - by phone or in person -a different friend at least once a day. It's usually by phone, but it still counts in my book. The strange thing is that it has not been planned, but for one reason or another, I am sharing, speaking with, and listening to a friend. And how great it feels!

I end the phone call or visit feeling hugely inspired and grateful, and often expanded in my own thinking.

"Friendship multiplies the good of life and divides the evil."
-- Baltasar Gracian (1647)

I'm learning how to question more and listen more deeply. In my usual narcissistic tendencies, I would only listen for questions or opportunities to share what I believe, think, or have experienced. But the real growth happens in the listening.

I've heard it said that Jackie (Kennedy) Onassis was an amazing listener. Apparently this was used more as a strategy then a simple nicety. She wanted to really know the people she was around. You can really "hear" a lot when you listen deeply.

“Promise me you'll always remember: You're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.” ~ Christopher Robin to Pooh

Today I Vow to connect with a friend, lift them up, hold them in my heart, and expand my own thinking.

Filters

2009-06-15T13:37:00.000-07:00

I'm going to assume that you have either experienced or been told about the phenomenon that exists in which several different people can witness or experience the same incident and yet have completely different versions of said event.

Many of us live this every day with spouses, children, and siblings.

I remember things so perfectly about growing up but my brother and sister each have completely different takes on things.

Who's "right"? Furthermore, does it matter? And what is the truth? Who determines it and plays referee while we're screaming for the floor to prove our cases?

What if we each had our own truth and that's the end of it; We could never prove our case to anyone else and we would never really listen to a version that deviates from what we experienced.

We each have filters through which we see the world. These filters were put in place by the many experiences and lessons we learned while growing (some of us are still growing.) Most of them are in place on an unconscious level and take a great deal of work to see, let alone to alter.

My husband tells me a story in which his father makes a three-word statement to him and it drives him batty. Although when speaking to my mother and she makes the same statement, he views it as sincere and thoughtful. What gives?

Filters.

It gets frustrating when we are so sure of our view and want to fight to the death to prove we are right. But what does that prove at all? And what does it matter?

We each view the world in completely different ways, through our own personal filters. The purple I see may not be the exact same color you see through your own eyes and with your own brain. We just agree that a particular hue of color is called purple.

Today I vow to examine the filters I have through which I see the world and make my judgments, deciding if a filter (or two) would best be cast aside.

"It's Your Turn"

2009-06-03T14:05:00.001-07:00

In my never-ending attempt to entertain my toddlers throughout the day, I took them to a free music class this morning at the library. In a room full of parents and toddlers, mine were the only two who refused to sit, participate, or listen. Running amok, dancing to their own music, they were happily spinning circles and running laps around me.

Thankfully, the teacher kept reminding me that as long as they weren't in danger or endangering others, just let them be. Easy for her to say. I could feel all the eyes and judgment upon me. Although the best way I have learned to handle those stares is to never look up.

At one point, several songs into the class, kids still running around like monkeys, I could feel it was safe to say something to the woman sitting next to me.

"Why is it only my kids?" I asked, exacerbated.

"It's not only your kids. It's just your turn," she answered with barely a pause.

That was, by far, some of the most brilliant words I have ever heard. That logic could seemingly be applied to almost anything.

In our lives, how often have you heard or said, "Why does this always happen to me?" I personally want to throw things when I hear others saying those words. In my opinion, what a way to seal your fate and invite more of the same. But I don't throw things when I hear friends say this. I quietly say a prayer for them hoping they will learn their lesson soon so they won't keep drawing forth the same "stuff" that causes suffering.

I don't think the world is out to get anyone. God is not on a vengeance. The Universe is actually impersonal. It abides by simple rules. We may experience great pains in our lives, but suffering is a choice.

Today I Vow to accept that Life/God/Universe/Divine is not the enemy, but it may just be my turn.

Thriving vs. Surviving

2009-05-28T20:12:00.000-07:00

Being a bereaved parent is not something I signed up for. At least, not that I'm aware of.

Although, there is a part of me that believes we all "signed up" for this journey - and all of its gritty details - before we entered this plane of existence. That way of thinking sits well in my heart and helps me justify the death of my first born son. Other justifications simply do not work for me and make me want to either vomit or roll my eyes.

Although I didn't realize it at the time, for the first several years after Blake died, I was merely surviving. The day would show up - against all my begging and pleading for it not to - and I would pay my dues, all the while, fantasizing of the end.

I would dream of the end of everything, and of each little detail: The end of the day. The end of my pain. The end of my life. The end of someone's distracting visit.

The end. The end. The end. I just wanted it all to end.

The only things I didn't want to end were my counseling sessions and the support groups I was attending.

I have no idea when the shift occurred from surviving to thriving, but right at about a year after the crash I knew I wanted to do more for the MISS Foundation. MISS was available to me through the greatest tragedy known to mankind. It was my lighthouse, my lifeline. I had to give back.

I had a great deal more grief work to do myself before I could start helping others. So in the meantime, I offered to help with anything administrative.

I still have no idea when the shift really occurred, because for many years I felt empty. Someone would point out something beautiful or spectacular: a piece of art, a flower, a sunset, and I wouldn't even bother looking because I just didn't care.

Eventually I started taking notice of trees and flowers. The sunsets regained their color. The sky had many stories to tell and eventually, I started to listen again.

It was all just baby steps. Putting one foot in front of the other. Breathe in. Breathe out.

I wish I had a magical potion or some incredible words of wisdom, but I don't. The most magical words I heard on my journey were: Just get through the next five minutes. If after two minutes, you are losing it again, start the clock over. Just get through the next five minutes.

Peace and Grace on your journey, wherever you are.

Today I Vow to make it through the next five minutes. Eventually Life will find me and I will thrive.

Getting and Giving

2009-05-28T20:01:00.000-07:00

How often do you feel ignored? Lonely? Insignificant? Taken advantage of?

What if I told you that moping and complaining about these feelings would only bring more of the same? What if I said, if you are telling the same story of woe to your friends and family over and over, you are attached to the story? What if I just called you out, right where you are and said, stop complaining!

I bet one of two things would happen. One. Your ego would take hold and get defensive, trying to prove to me the validation of your story and how wrongly you have been treated. Or Two. You might be ready to hear me, and thereby be ready to hear yourself. The real you, not your ego. Maybe, just maybe, you might be willing to give up your story.

But what do you do with the energy that has been tied up in your attachment to your story? You give it away. Not to say you hand off your negative energy to someone else; that will get you nowhere. Instead, whatever it is you feel the world is withholding, give that to someone else.

Feeling ignored? Call a friend or a relative you have not talked to since Christmas, just because. Feeling insignificant? The next woman or man you see at the grocery store struggling to corral his/her toddler, stop her to tell her you think they are doing a fantastic job (even if you don't think they are.) Feeling worthless? Give the grumpy cashier a warm smile and with the most wonderful day onto them. Feeling cheated? Put together a box full of school supplies and leave it anonymously at a school in a lower-income district around where you live.

The truth is, whatever you think the world is withholding from you, you are withholding from the world.

There are those who give with joy, and that joy is their reward.
Kahlil Gibran

We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give.
Winston Churchill

Today I Vow to give something that I think the world is withholding from me.

Labels and Identification

2009-05-28T19:52:00.000-07:00

If I decide to label myself as something, does that not hinder the true essence of Who I Am? Does that put me in a box to which I am then attached?

If I say to someone, "I am a bereaved mother." Does that keep me in attachment to the crash that happened years ago killing my first son?

Does attaching myself to one label negate all the other aspects about me? And what are these "aspects"? Are they not more labels?

What if, what I truly am can not be labeled or announced. My true self can only be momentarily observed in moments of non-judgmental observation. Can I observe my thoughts? My actions? Just for a moment. Can I check in to my feelings and see what's really going on; not what my mind is telling me is going on - that's just Ego Talk.

The ego loves labels and attachment. I strengthen my ego every time I label an aspect of myself.

Today I Vow to be aware of the labels and limitations I place on myself and others - and release them.

Pasture

2009-05-25T14:48:00.000-07:00

When Blake died I had no other living children, nor did I have a husband. I can honestly say I have no idea why I didn't end it all. It must have been the same Source that kept me getting out of bed every day while in the hospital, after I came out of the coma, enduring an entire day of physical therapies, including being taught how to walk, and undergoing every psychological and mental aptitude test available in dealing with my brain injury.

All of this while being surrounded by medical personnel who didn't want to touch the grief aspect of my injury.

I attended my first MISS meeting the week I was released form the hospital - four weeks after the car crash. Finally, I was surrounded by others who knew, who acknowledged, who validated.

But that was comfort that lasted only ninety minutes one day a month. What about the rest of the time?

Every single night for at least the first year, I relived the car crash. Desperately attempting to put together pieces of a puzzle that I had no recollection of. I prayed for death nightly. At the same time I was able to see the bigger picture: I had survived for a reason. I demanded to know why. But the answer never came. (I still have no idea why I am here). So because there must have been this "reason" I felt choosing death was not a choice I could make. Death could have taken me easily, but it didn't.

I was in counseling. Her name was Diane.
She asked a standard yet poignant question: would I call her if I felt suicidal?
No, I answered in all truthfulness.

I was done saying what I knew doctors wanted to hear. I told her the truth. No, I would not call if I felt suicidal. She asked how I would do it if I had already thought about it. I told her about the many many pills I had from my hospital stay. She tried to convince me that a death by pills was often unsuccessful and very painful and ugly. I think I laughed.

I prayed for any disease. Any ravaging cancer. I swore I would never tell anyone and I would not seek treatment. I would simply be consumed.

Although I never actively attempted suicide, I sought death in every moment. I taunted it. In the summer following the crash, during a monsoon storm in Phoenix I drove to a desert and stood on the roof of my car. Arms in the air, praying for a lightning bolt to "Pick me! Pick!"
Wet and defeated, I drove home.

There was a moment, lying in bed, I was so sure I wanted to die. I’m sure I had been crying but the tears stopped. For some reason death became logical, the only answer to my condition.
This change in thinking got my attention. I sat up and started to take inventory: where were my pills? How many did I have? Where would I do this? In my parents back yard next to the big canopy tree. Would I leave a note? No time for that now. Just write, “I’m sorry. I know you all understand.”

Then a voice, very clear and concise, but still my own, said: Call Diane.

So I did.

Her husband answered and I asked for her. When she answered I simply said, “Tell my why I should choose life.” She was very calm and asked standard acute-situation questions: Are you alone? Who is with you? Have you done anything? Then she asked me if I could go for a walk around the block; was I in a safe neighborhood or did I have a dog I could walk. She explained to me that I have a lot of energy surging through my body and I need to get it out. All of the thoughts I was being bombarded with were creating this energy that was going nowhere. I had to release it.

So I decided to go to my parents house and walk laps around their pasture. And that’s what I did, while holding a tiny little hand-generated flashlight, I walked a few laps around the pastures. I’m sure the dogs accompanied me, but I don’t remember. I know I never mentioned this to my mother. I never told her why I was there, I never told her about these thoughts. My family does they best they can, but they are limited in what they can handle and I wasn’t about to invite guilt by expressing my deep sorrow. Besides, what if I changed my mind one day.

The Past

2009-05-20T13:10:00.000-07:00

What I have learned recently about myself is I live in the past...a lot. Almost all the time. In fact, if my mind is left unattended you can be sure that I am stewing over something someone said or did to me at some point in my life. Or I am beating myself up over something I didn't say or do or something I did say or do that causes me regret and grief still, even fifteen or twenty years later.

What is that?!

I have also learned that every time I recall a painful incident from my past, I call it forth, recreating it as if it were happening again, right now in this moment. A moment that will be gone as soon as the next moment arrives. And if I'm only living in past moments, never to sit fully present in this moment, am I really living? To think of all that energy expended in just those memories alone. As a stay at home mom of three under the age of four, I wouldn't say I am overflowing with extra energy to burn.

For so many years, after my son died, I was not really living, nor did I care to be alive. Nothing excited me or brought me joy. That was my choice - not a conscious decision, but still a choice nonetheless.

I have friends who will sit in the past with me. Are they enablers? I know not. I'm sure I would sit in someone's past with them if that's the place where they felt most alive. Is that it? Do I sit in the past because that's where I feel most alive? When my blood boils and my heart sinks at the most painful memories I can muster, is that the way I feel something, anything?

For years, after my son died, I never felt alive. Something exciting could happen and I didn't truly care. A beautiful sunset would be pointed out to me and I wouldn't bother to look up. Who cares, I would think. Not me. Not the one with the dead son and the dead heart.

After a lifetime of high-bar drama at every turn, being in a marriage that is virtually drama-free can certainly make me feel like I'm sleepwalking. There are times I sincerely wish my husband knew his way around words and expressing himself so we could have a good knock-down drag-out screaming match. But no dice.

So I wonder if that may be a way for me to "feel" something, anything...by living in the past and recalling pain, heartbreak, anger, jealousy...

Hmph. I'm not really sure. I'm figuring all this out as I go. I have read The Power of Now and I'm trying to read it for a second time now that I realize I am still smack-dab in the past. And I have to say living in the moment seems to be the answer. In fact, I know it is. It's just going to take practice.... a lot of practice to break a lifetime of habit.

When one door closes another door opens; but we so often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door, that we do not see the ones which open for us. ~Alexander Graham Bell

Today, I Vow to practice - in this moment - to stay right here where I am, knowing the past is safe and secure behind me.

Blame

2008-06-01T20:02:00.000-07:00

Recently, I made the drastic decision to request that my mother not attempt to contact me while I figured out "how to not be angered, saddened, and disappointed by everything about our relationship."

Thankfully, without even responding, she complied. The only way I know this is because she called my husband instead of me on my daughter's first birthday, which is what I asked her to do.

After many many years of trying to accept her and my perceived limitations of her, I found simply that I needed to take some control of the situation. And although I have the intellectual understanding that my reactions are my own, I felt I really couldn't put that into practice while still being needy and disappointed at the same time in all my interactions with her.

That little girl that was rejected at such a young age cannot understand that the woman she calls "mother" was simply not capable of anything different.

Louise Hay in "You Can Heal Your Life" explains that blaming our parents is unproductive because we are all "victims of victims." Our parents were never taught, treated, or shown any different than what they showed us as parents. So is it really their "fault?" Of course not. And they may simply have not been one of those people that are born with incredible insight to realize that anything about how they were raised and how they raised their own children, was not the highest good for all involved.

So now it comes to the subject of blame. I have a feeling my mother feels I am blaming her for everything, but I am really not. My mother has always felt that bringing up anything from the past was a full blown attack on her. Which is, of course, her guilt talking. But it was never to blame. I just want acknowledgment; more so than even apologies. I just want her to say, "I'm sorry. I was wrong. I apologize and I know I hurt you."

But will that ever come? It doesn't matter. The truth is, this is all an inside job. I have a lot of work to do letting go of expectations, resentments, sadness, fears, and fixing the self-deprecating messages that abound the tapes that run through my head at all times.

What she does or doesn't do is none of my business. In the meantime, I thank her for respecting my request. But I do not blame.

"Today I Vow to watch my thoughts and if I find myself blaming anyone for anything, I will stop and send compassion instead."

Missed Opportunity

2008-05-03T19:55:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I had a most unpleasant situation occur when I took my two small children to a government office to obtain a piece of legal documentation for my daughter.

My children - surprisingly - were not the problem. It was a worker at this office. I left having not obtained this documentation and instead, left shaking internally from rage I was struggling to contain in my body.

After loading the children I attempted to call my husband to vent. Not being able to reach him, I went through the phone book in my head of who I would be safe in calling. I called a girlfriend. She was also stunned by what occurred and gave me the validation I thought I needed. But only a few minutes into the phone call and I realized the bigger picture of what had happened.

I had missed a perfect opportunity to practice all I am learning while studying "A New Earth" by Eckhart Tolle. I had the chance to keep my ego in check and honor the moment for what it was. Instead, my ego almost instantly reared it's head screaming, "Who does she think she is talking to you like that!"

My ego took everything personally and sought only to defend itself and prove itself right in the entire situation. Hence, me telling many friends about what had happened asking, "Can you believe this happened to me? Can you believe I was treated like that?"

The bigger lesson here though is that it only took me a couple of minutes to realize what had happened and where *I* went wrong - not the woman behind the counter whose ego is obviously a lot louder than mine. So I choose to be aware for the next opportunity and cut that time by half. With enough practice, there will be little to no time between the trigger and my realizing the opportunity standing before me. And I will be able to respond to the situation in kindness and without the ego, always remaining in the present moment.

"Life will give you whatever experience is most helpful for the evolution of your consciousness."

~ Eckhart Tolle

Today I Vow to be aware of the opportunities to practice Presence and Kindness. I make note of the time it takes from trigger to understanding and vow to cut that time by half at every chance.

Trusting Faith

2008-04-09T09:07:00.000-07:00

I don’t know if I can have faith so much as I can trust it. I’ve had faith before and it was amazing what it manifested.

The most amazing display of this unwavering faith was after we decided to move from Huntington Beach (yes, it’s great place to visit but I had no interest in raising kids there.) After a great deal of research and investigative work, we decided to move to Prescott Valley, AZ. So we started looking for houses online. In inquiring about a particular house we met a really wonderful real estate agent in the area.

He worked hard for us. And we are so grateful. Certain circumstances took us to Phoenix for a few days so we decided to drive up to PV and meet with the agent. We looked at many many houses but found nothing that grabbed us.

On another trip we intended to look at just one. Afterwards, our agent convinced us to look at one more. And that was the one. We knew it. We went home and put an offer on it the next day. Keep in mind, our house was still on the market in Huntington Beach and had been for several months.

But I had a knowing; an unwavering knowing that our house would sell the next week. And guess what: it did.

These days, when I feel myself not having faith, I think of that time an wonder how on earth was I so sure? What was I thinking putting an offer on a house without selling the one we had?! It was madness.

“Faith is a knowledge within the heart,
beyond the reach of proof.”
~ Kahlil Gibran

So there it is, that quote says it all. “Beyond the reach of proof.”

Today I vow to trust the Faith I know I have that is beyond the reach of proof.

Ignore my Ego

2008-04-07T09:39:00.000-07:00

The quickness of her response and the anger and defensiveness in her voice were indication that she had not yet become present enough to look within and to disentangle her reaction from the event and observe them both.
~ A New Earth, Eckhart Tolle, pg. 39

How often have we reacted quickly and with “anger and defensiveness”? (Hand raised) Me! Me! Me! I do this often.

I’m not proud but I am humble and I know when to apologize and when to concede. I’m also trying to get a grasp on when it’s not worth arguing because the other person simply wants to argue and wants to be right. Which draws my ego to the surface and claims, “No! I’m right!”

The amount of energy we spend on proving our sides of the story is astounding. We lose sleep, we lose time, we lose, lose, lose, trying desperately to prove we are right, right, right.

Sometimes letting things go is an act of far greater power
than defending or hanging on.
~ A New Earth, Eckhart Tolle, pg. 41

Now think of a time when you released the need to be right - when you ignored the Ego - and you just released. If you can’t recall doing this, please give it a try at some point today when you notice you are locked in a struggle with someone else. What you will notice is your shoulders will drop, the tightness in your chest will release, tension in your face and head will melt away and you will be able to inhale fully.

And your heart will open and be filled with compassion and love. You may not recognize it as such, but that’s what has happened.

Today I Vow, when I notice I am locked in struggle, to ignore my Ego and release the need to be right.

To Be.

2008-04-02T09:10:00.000-07:00

What does worry get you? More problems to worry about.
Worry pretends to be useful, but is actually useless and causes more problems.

It makes no sense to worry about things you have no control over because there's nothing you can do about them, and why worry about things you don't control? The activity of worrying keeps you immobilized."
- Dr. Wayne Dyer

We are human BEings. What harm would it being if we just were? If we were fully Present in every moment. If we sat with our children and allowed them to feel our presence.

What if we allowed negative thoughts to flow through us and stop and set up camp?

What if we embraced the silence between the thoughts in our head?

Did you know the majority of thoughts you have all day are the same thoughts you had the day before?

That really bothers me to know I am basically stagnant in my thinking. What kind of evolution is that? If I am not learning and practicing lessons regarding my own happiness, then what am I doing all day?

If I am not incorporating new ways in which to be a mother, ways that I think are better for my children and treats them with respect and honor, then what am I teaching them?

Today I Vow to Be. To just Be in this Moment.

Transparent

2008-03-26T09:18:00.000-07:00

When life comes at you, as it does, and you feel yourself wanting to defend yourself against a person or a circumstance, what if you allowed it to pass through you instead of resisting?

When something is said and we feel ourselves get red hot, as if a thermostat was turned up inside, and we immediately feel anger and want to attack and retaliate what is happening is our Ego has built a wall. Whenever something comes along that our Ego can use to grow in power, it pushes the wall closer to the surface so little else can enter; things like logic, peace, non-resistance, all the things that are a threat to the Ego.

Instead, imagine that you are transparent and everything that comes along easily passes through you. You don’t resist and you don’t defend. Better yet, you are not strengthening the Ego.

The experiences we have in our day to day life often have very little to do with Who We Are at our core. But we can always act from this core instead of our surface: the Ego. This aspect of us that takes everything personally, that loves to gossip and attack others in order to build itself up. This human condition that is widely accepted as a justification: That’s the way that I am.

I’m here to tell you, you are not your Ego. At your core - the essence of Who You Are - is peace and the only realness about you is Love.

The only thing that is real about anyone is Love. When someone treats you unkindly, it is their Ego as well. The trick is to practice seeing this facade before your Ego gets a chance to react.

Today I Vow to be transparent
and not allow my Ego to react to the Ego of others.

Listen to the Story

2008-03-25T09:21:00.000-07:00

When you are in a dialogue with a good friend, do you find yourself telling the same story over and over? Do you hear the words regarding the thoughtlessness of your spouse? The anger your parents displayed? The rudeness of the cashier or the bank teller? The annoying actions of your children?

Do you hear your friend telling the same stories as well?

How many times do you need to tell the story? Do you think if you tell it enough times, it will heal? Or if you tell it over and over and if others agree with you enough, then it means you were “right”?

What would it mean to be right? What does it mean if others agree with you?

Do we not get so attached to the story, that we don’t know why we are telling it?

And what is The Story? Is it not your version of an event? And isn’t your version of the event different from someone else’s version, since we each interpret every event based on our own experiences, filters, and judgments?

When we attach ourselves to a story we insist on telling over and over, we define Who We Are by the story we tell. This illusion can seem very real to us. Well who am I, we ask, if not the events that happen in my life?

Let me tell you, you are not your story. You are above your story. You are beyond the experiences of your daily life.

You are more. Deeper. Higher. You are all-knowing. You are Grace. Peace. Wisdom.

Don’t let the stories you tell define you. Stop telling the story and you will make room to see Who You Really Are.

Today I Vow to listen to the stories I tell and not define myself by them.

Thoughts

2008-03-21T09:22:00.000-07:00

Ernest Holmes in the “The Science of Mind” text reminds us

Thoughts are Things

Many other great teachers have reminded us of such. And yet, we let our thoughts control our experience, we allow our thoughts to define who we think we are. We create hell on earth for ourselves and others via our thoughts.

“Worry, fear, anger, jealousy, and other emotional conditions, are mental in nature, and as such are being recognized as the hidden cause of a large part of all the physical suffering to which the flesh is heir. A normal healthy mind reflects itself in a healthy body, and conversely, an abnormal mental state expresses its corresponding condition in some physical condition.”

Our thoughts are powerful things. You can feel a change in your physical body simply based on a thought that goes through your mind. When you reminisce of a sweet experience or when you feel regret or resentment, you are sending that energy into the Universe and asking (unconsciously) that more of that same energy be brought to you.

The movie The Secret gives a great visual example of waves of emotions emanating from us and drawing more of the same energy at all times.

Every event and experience we feel throughout our days are neutral in themselves, it is our reaction to them - based on our histories - that give them their positive or negative spin.

“There is nothing neither good nor bad. But thinking makes it so.”
~ Shakespeare

Today I vow to be aware of what my thoughts are creating around me.

Take a Step

2008-03-18T09:29:00.000-07:00

“Leap and the net will appear.”

I’m often caught up in the “What am I here for?” question. When I was a single mother to Blake I had a moment where I “knew” my reason for living was to be Blake’s mommy. Then when he was gone from this earth, I had no idea why I was alive. Somedays I still don’t know; even remarried with two living children, I can still feel lost.

I have a lot of fear; Fear of failure, fear of success. Fear of rejection and of feeling like an idiot. Fear of feeling stupid and being called out. I have a strong fear that I will run out of money.

I fear failure the most; I am so scared I will fail as a mother. I’m scared I will never forgive my mother, more scared my kids will someday not forgive me. Scared I will fail as a wife (again.) Scared I will not find nor fulfill the purpose for which I am here. I wonder if I am more scared I will succeed.

Scared. Scared. Scared. Leaves me Stuck. Stuck. Stuck.

When I fear every step of the journey, I never take a step. When I never take a step, I move nowhere and I remain stuck.
When I remain stuck, I am unable to experience all the world has available to me. It’s all waiting right there on the other side of the door.

There is no lack in the Universe; it’s impossible. There is only limited thinking. There is no need to be envious of anyone else, for they do not “deserve” their prosperity any more or any less than I do. I deserve everything just as much as they do. And if I truly believed that - if I stopped replaying the same stunting tapes in my head over and over - I would have the prosperous and inspiring experience that is mine and waiting for me.

Today I Vow to be open to the Path made available to me.
I Vow to take the first step
knowing that success is the only outcome and in the end, it is all Good.

Bite My Tongue

2008-03-14T09:31:00.000-07:00

In reading A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle, I am learning a great deal about the Ego and how powerful it is. I am making huge realizations regarding my own Ego and the mechanisms it uses to stay afloat. I am being taught simple truths about the Ego that explain a great deal about how I spend my energy each day.

In Chapter 3, The Core of Ego, Eckhart teaches:

The central core of all your mind activity consists of certain repetitive and persistent thoughts, emotions, and reactive patterns you identify with most strongly. This entity is the ego itself.

To uphold the I-thought, it needs the opposite thought of “the other.” The conceptual “I” cannot survive without the conceptual “other.” The others are most other when I see them as my enemies. At one end of the scale of this unconscious egoic pattern lies the egoic compulsive habit of faultfinding and complaining about others. At the other end of the scale, there is physical violence between individuals and warfare between nations.

Eckhart goes on to explain that complaining about people and situations are the ego’s “favorite strategies for strengthening itself.”

As I was reading this chapter, I was having one a-ha moment after another. I was thinking about the mean lady across the street, my mother, the woman I am constantly battling with over the Internet...ego, ego, ego! I could see it so clearly! I was allowing my ego to fight with their ego. But this isn’t who we truly are at our core.

My biggest a-Ha came when I stopped looking outside of me noticing the ego in others, and I looked at myself instead. I could see clearly how out of control my own ego is. I judge and condemn others for their decisions. I offer my unsolicited “advice” and take it personally when it is not heeded. I “speak my mind” when no one asked for my thoughts and I will never back down without a fight, going to great lengths to prove I am “right.”

The Truth being, the “I” in all of those above statements is not who I Am. It is my ego. And my ego is loud, opinionated, and out of control.

My ego is so desperate to stay alive that it must prove, complain, and compare to all those around me. I can see my ego as a two-year old battered girl who is so desperate to prove her worth, she talks loudly, offering all kinds of opinions, is convinced her way is the right way, throws tantrums when no one listens to her...all the while she is silently crying out, “Please love me?”

Don’t take the ego too seriously. When you detect egoic behavior in yourself, smile. At times you may even laugh. How could humanity have been taken in by this for so long? Above all, know that the ego isn’t personal. It isn’t who you are. If you consider the ego to be your personal problem, that’s just more ego.

Today I Vow to Pay Attention to when my ego is taking over and Bite my Tongue when the ego is trying to say something.

Silence

2008-03-11T09:34:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, the most compassionate thing to do
is to say nothing at all.

Accommodate

2008-03-10T09:36:00.000-07:00

I bet you’ve heard of Elisabeth Kubler-Ross’s Stages of Dying. But I bet you have heard of them as referred to as the Stages of Grief. Actually they were the stages most common to dying persons, and the medical community - without Elisabeth’s blessing - began attributing the stages to grieving.

They do still apply of course. But for me, that last one - acceptance - is one I have a tough time wrapping my head around. Or maybe that’s the problem: I’m letting my head handle the grief-work. My head also tells me if I accept my son’s death, then it means it was OK, or that I’m OK with it. But it isn’t and I’m not.

Several years ago I was attending a MISS Conference and I heard a speaker. It was a man, but that’s all I can recall (sorry!) He spoke of replacing the word acceptance with another A-word: accommodate. This was a light-bulb moment for me. Accommodate Blake’s death. I can do that; easier than accepting it at least.

What does accommodate mean to me? Let’s look at the definitions given on Dictionary.com:

1. to do a kindness or a favor to; oblige; to accommodate a friend.
2. to provide suitably; supply (usually fol. by with): to
accommodate a friend with money.
3. to lend money to: Can you accommodate him?
4. to provide with a room and sometimes with food.
5. to furnish with accommodations.
6. to have or make room for: Will this elevator accommodate 10
people?
7. to make suitable or consistent; adapt: to accommodate oneself
to circumstances.
8. to bring into harmony; adjust; reconcile: to accommodate
differences.
–verb (used without object)
9. to become adjusted or adapted.
10. to become reconciled; agree.

I have no connection until I get to number 6: to have or make room for.

Yes, I can make room for Blake’s death just as I make room in my heart for the memory of his pregnancy, his birth, and his first seventeen months of life.... I make room in my heart.

Then I get to definition number 8: to bring into harmony; adjust; reconcile. Although I don’t know if I can “bring into harmony”, I feel as though I can adjust and maybe even reconcile.

I am drawn to the word reconcile. To me, to reconcile is a way to accept something without a reason. I will never have a reason why Blake died that day. I will never have a reason why, with the severity of my injuries have I recovered as much and as well as I have (although that’s subjective.) I can never give or have the reason why that particular driver was behind the wheel of her truck and why she ran the red light that hit our car. So all I am left to do is reconcile that I will simply never know, and that will have to be what it is.

I will have to accept, accommodate, and reconcile the not knowing. What choice do I have?

My mentor on this journey questioned me early on: if you had God, or whomever you offer your prayers to, sitting in front of you and you were told the reason why, would it make a difference? Would you still not long for your child day in and day out? Would you not question ‘why me’?

This can all be applied on a much smaller scale. Divorce, illness, deceit, infidelity; traffic jams and you’re late for work...

Can you reconcile with the situation? It is what it is.
Can you adjust? Are there any actions I can take to change the situation? Can I look at it differently?
Can you make room? Open your heart, there is room. There is always room for love.

Today I vow, to accommodate a situation I have resisted.

Choose Silence.

2008-03-06T09:41:00.000-08:00

The things you do not have to say make you rich.
Saying the things you do not have to say weakens your talk.
Hearing the things you do not need to hear dulls your hearing.
And the things you know before you hear them, these are you, and this is why you are in the world.
~ William Stafford, Crossing Unmarked Snow

Recall the last time you were crying. Not just expressing tears but absolutely sobbing in pain. Where your body wants to be at the lowest physical point and wails are escaping your mouth with no control whatsoever. Your head hurts with the pressure of holding back so you scream louder to release the pain along with the energy of the sadness.

Did it help to have someone else there? Did it help to have someone there shoving tissue in your face? Did it help to have someone saying, “It’s OK” over and over again? Did it help to hear platitudes such as, You’ll be fine; Everything happens for a reason; You’ll be stronger now; God never gives you what you can’t handle...

Ugh, I’m feeling nauseous just thinking about it.

I personally find it more helpful to either be alone with no one around to judge the depth, length, or display of my sadness. Or for someone to be around but just to offer me a hand or a hug. Don’t even shove tissue at me! And don’t say a word, not a single word unless it is simply, “I’m sorry.”

This culture is stereotypically aversive to silence. But is there anything truly wrong with sitting in silence with someone else and just being? Let us not forget we are Human Beings before we are problem solvers.

This is not to say we should ignore when someone is in pain. I would love to see each of us open our hearts to everyone we come in contact with. Not to be confused with opening our mouths and pouring nonsense about. We don’t need to speak at all. Just open your heart and know the person across from you is probably in just as much pain as you are.

I have as much rage as you have
I have as much pain as you do
I've lived as much hell as you have
and I've kept mine bubbling under for you.
~"Sympathetic Character", Alanis Morissette

Today I Vow to choose silence in tender moments of another’s pain.

Gentle to Myself

2008-03-05T09:46:00.000-08:00

Early in my journey of grief after the death of my son, someone said to me, “Be gentle to yourself.”

I had never been told that before and those words had a profound effect on my heart. It gave me permission to take off the caretaker hat and allow myself to feel the pain, anger, and resentment tied up in burying my first born son.

I was allowed to feel this pain and just be with it. I didn’t have to judge it or be mad that I was feeling mad. I could just be. And I could envision a bigger and complete aspect of myself holding the broken parts of my heart in a gentle and loving way:

“There. There, Katie. I am so very sorry for your loss. Allow me to just hold you. I have no words; words are trivial now. I have no magic potion to take the hurt away; it just hurts.”

Be gentle to myself?! Why wasn’t I told this before.

Why, as a child, feeling the sadness of a broken or lost toy, was I not told, “Be Gentle to Yourself, feel the pain. It is very sad; feel that sadness.”

As a teenager with a broken heart, “Be Gentle to Yourself, you are experiencing a lot of pain, just feel it. I’m sorry.”

As a young woman going through my first divorce, “Be gentle to yourself. You feel scared and hurt, just feel the fear and the pain.”

But as a young woman who buried her firstborn son, I was told, “Be gentle to yourself. Your heart has experienced a wordless atrocity. Your soul is searching for its missing piece and its missing Peace. Be kind.”

When I became a member of the bereavement community, it didn’t take long to learn there was nothing anyone could say that would take my pain away. And those who are not a part of this realm are too quick to say thoughtless things. In our society, silence is not a revered attribute. In fact, if there is silence, most times it is assumed there is something wrong and therefore must be fixed...with words.

The most helpful words were the ones that gave me permission to feel whatever I was feeling; The words that took me off the hook. And reminded me of the magnitude of what I was really going through.

The literal meaning of the word bereaved is “robbed” stemming from the verb to reave (Old English reafian) meaning "to rob".

As of yet, there is no other word that is more befitting the death of a child; my arms, heart, soul, senses, and my daily life were robbed of my child.

What more can a woman do when left with empty arms, a grieving heart, a searching soul, a brooding mind?

Be gentle with yourself.

Worth.

2008-03-03T09:59:00.000-08:00

I have felt drained and uninspired these last few days. Last night, I started writing in my journal. I found a few different things draining my energy.

We recently met some neighbors. They are so super-nice and have very similar ideas and concepts about child birth and vaccines. So I immediately thought, “Yay! We are going to get along great.” And I think we will.

Yesterday we went to their house for a couple hours. They had some friends over, two other couples. Super-nice, all of them.

I found myself feeling envy. They owned this ten-acre parcel and split it into five, two-acre parcels. They designed and built their own house and the two other houses. One of which is ours. They have a beautiful home that looks so lived in and loved. They have two amazing children, which she home-schools. And they just adopted a baby girl a couple weeks ago. They were sharing pictures of a trip to Mexico, and spoke of camping and fishing and a boat.

The women have nice clothes, perfect hair and makeup. I felt like such a frump.

In six years, Chris and I have only been on a few vacations. They seem to be financially stressful, if I recall. We certainly have not been to Mexico, do not own a boat (or quads). I usually don’t bother with makeup and I have an aversion to spending a lot (or even a moderate amount of) money on clothes for myself or the kids.

I’m picking up on something as I read through this: I am creating my own experience. I refuse to spend money, because I have a deep-seated belief that money is limited and that I do not deserve it. One of my earliest memories is of being a child, maybe 8, and asking my mother what was wrong while she was arguing with my father, she responded with anger, “There’s $7 in the bank account.” I was unable to process that message to mean anything other than we have no money. I think a seed was planted in that moment. We have no money became a theme that would define the rest of my life.

The belief in lack spilled over into every aspect in my life. I’m not good enough to apply for that job. I’m not good enough for that school. I’m not good enough to audition for that play. I’m not good enough to take singing lessons or join the church choir. I’m not good enough to ask for more in my relationships. I’m not good enough to own nice clothes. I’m not good enough that the Universe will provide for me.

These have laid such a horrific foundation and as I approach my mid-30’s, I am absolutely tired of it. I am tired of feeling this way. I am tired of being envious of my friends who go to to Hawaii every single year. I am tired of the same friends who spend several weeks in Maine every Christmas. I am tired of being so envious of these friends. I am tired of instantly feeling Lack and Unworthiness when I hear of their travels or new cars.

I am worthy. There is nothing about me that does not deserve all the Universe has to offer. There is nothing about the Universe that picks and chooses whom will receive abundance.

Today I Vow to believe in my own worth.

Personally

2008-02-28T10:07:00.000-08:00

I waste too much energy on being upset when someone does not do what I say, acknowledge what I say, or listen to what I say. I know this is triggered from getting what I deem so little attention as a child. So I have this trigger.

And I carry it with me on my sleeve or on my shoulder throughout my days. I read something or hear something and the words go through this trigger before they get to my brain. So before my brain has an opportunity to process the words, it is already reacting via my trigger.

This is called “Taking It Personally”. When someone says -or does not say - something to me, I make assumptions. Based on (one of) my particular triggers, I am assuming I am not worth a response, or time, or love. I base my entire self-worth on whether or not someone pays attention to me, i.e. listens to me.

Many year ago, I read a remarkable, life-altering book called The Four Agreements.

The Second Agreement is:

Don't Take Anything Personally
Nothing others do is because of you. What others say and do is a projection of their own reality, their own dream.
When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won't be the victim of needless suffering.

My, oh my. How much suffering I cause myself by allowing the action - or inaction - of others to define Who I Am.

I love to learn and share what I learn with others. And when I learn something that I find so significant and potentially beneficial to ones health - especially for children - I get really really angry when people not only do not listen - or even investigate what I am saying, but they completely dismiss me.

I am often stunned at how Western-minded we Western people are. When my “alternative” suggestions are completely dismissed, I want to scream, “Do you not see any other way? Do you really think there are no other options? I am telling you about an option. Just give it a shot! Stop medicating your children; You are only masking symptoms. Find the root of the problem and fix it! Stop feeding your children crap with an ingredient list longer than the Constitution! Stop the sugar, the soda, the DAIRY, the artificial colors and flavors!”

I know. I know. Tone it down, Katie. Reel it in. Take a deep breath.

Back on track. What was I saying... oh yes, I vow to not take It personally.

What could It be, that I would take personally.

Well, I’ll give a few recent personal examples. I heard a friend’s daughter was scheduled to have surgery to get tubes put in her ears. This mother was very scared. I wrote to her and asked if she would consider rescheduling the surgery for three weeks later and in the meantime cut out all dairy from her daughter’s diet. I tried to explain the research I had discovered and how I felt this was a great opportunity to just see before her daughter was placed under anesthesia and had plastic tubes popped through her ear drums.

Alas, no response. Several days later I received a blasted email on how great everything went.

And I get so angry! In fact - here’s a confession - just in writing this article I have had to walk away, do something else and erase a whole lot of angry words. I just take it all so personally! Why won’t people just pause and think for a moment. Do some research. Stop listening to what the man behind the curtain, I mean, the white coat, says!

Think! If you are afraid of having your child go through surgery, then don’t do it. Just wait as you look through and try other alternatives.

There I go again. Looks like I’ll have to come back to this subject one day.

Today I vow to not take IT personally. And if I do, know that I am loved anyway.

Struggle.

2008-02-24T10:35:00.000-08:00

As my nightly - hourly? - struggle to get some sleep continues with my nine-month old daughter, somewhere through the grogginess some Ancient Buddhist wisdom crept in and reminded me of a huge source of my misery.

Actually two sources of misery the Buddha discovered: Attachment and Resistance.

I am attached to getting sleep at night. Not just any sleep, but continued uninterrupted sleep. With a co-sleeping, breast feeding infant, this is an almost absurd expectation. I mean, it really is ridiculous when you step back and look at it.

Sure, I could go against all my instincts and follow the advice of "sleep trainers" and have her sleeping in her own crib, in her own room, on the other side of the house, while refusing to answer her cries for comfort, support, company, and warmth until she "teaches herself to fall asleep."

Here's what I really think that would teach her: You are on your own kid, get used to it.

Hundreds of thousands of mothers purchase these sleep training books and follow every last detail, and I'm sure they feel great after a full night's sleep. I'm sure they feel positive about "teaching their child to sleep". I've read a few of these books and even I was convinced my child doesn't know how to sleep and therefore needs lessons.

But my heart and every cell in my body screams otherwise.

The second lesson I was reminded of: Resistance.

When my daughter nuzzles over and whines and cries out for Mama's Boob every three hours at night, I get real selfish real fast and want My time, My space, and I want to lay on my right side for at least a few minutes.

Even if she has just eaten and wants my attention again twenty minutes later, my selfish instinct is to resist. "No, go back to sleep. Sleep with your father. Give me a break!"

So she gets more upset because all she is asking for is me: why on earth are you rejecting me, Mommy? My body is reacting on all levels to her being upset; biologically (my heart rate and blood pressure are rising. All of my senses are becoming more heightened in order to figure out what's wrong with my offspring so I can protect her.) Physically, I want to comfort her and just get her to stop crying so she doesn't wake the two-year old. Emotionally, I am struggling with guilt between being selfish (why won't you sleep?!) and being sorry (Mama's here. I'll protect you. I'll help you.)

So after only a couple minutes I am more awake than I should be and all I had to do was cuddle her and give her the breast, just like she asked. She knows what she needs better than I ever will. It is not my job to alter or squash her needs. It is my job to accommodate and love purely.

Today I Vow to Stop Resisting, if Only For a Moment.

2008-02-22T10:10:00.000-08:00

A struggle I experience often in recent days stems from my nightly battles with my precious 9-month old daughter. I breast-feed and co-sleep with her, making the breast ever-available to her as she pleases. This works for us and makes me feel good about nourishing her as completely as I can in this delicate beginning.

The problems begins when I want to release her from my breast, roll over and catch at least a little sleep on the other side of my body. She may allow this for fourty-five minutes or fourty-five seconds, and I have no idea what it is defendant upon - sometimes she lets me, sometimes the answer is: No! And you turn yourself right around and be unquestioningly available to me right this second!

I may pause and will (with all my might) my husband to try and calm her. Or I may just do as she demands and turn right around without questioning. Well, that isn’t entirely true. I’m always questioning: What do you want now, What is wrong with you, why won’t you let me sleep, why, why why?!

The truth is, it doesn’t matter why, and there is certainly nothing wrong with her. In fact, the problem is not outside of myself. It’s all right here, in me, in a pretty little package called Resistance. And why do I resist? What do I resist? Does resisting ever work in the long run? Does resistance ever help me sleep more hours at a time, in whatever position I choose?

Nope. Not at all. In fact, resistance makes my blood boil. It raises my blood pressure, heart rate, and brings me close to a state of rage. It makes me miss the miracle of the moment: My daughter wants me. She wants her mommy; she wants my nearness, my smell, my heart beat, my milk (her milk?). She just wants her mommy.

Why would I deny her that? How much longer will she want her mommy? How much longer before she wants to sleep in her big girl bed in her own bedroom?

Motherhood shows me - several times a day - how selfish I still am. “What about me?! What about my time?!” It simply doesn’t cut it anymore. For a very short time in my life, I have children who are small, delicate, curious, and watching everything I do and say. I choose to open to the possibility of experiencing miracles on a daily basis through what shows up in my life.

Today I vow not to resist. When my son pulls my hand, saying, “Come on, Mommy.” And when my daughter dive-bombs for my chest, or nuzzles into my neck, I will not resist. Just for today.

Today I Vow to Pay Attention

2008-02-21T10:15:00.000-08:00

Do you ever find yourself paying attention....to yourself?

Or are you mostly paying attention to other people, tv shows, the radio, or your thoughts?

What about paying attention to how your body responds to all of these things to which you are giving your attention.

Your body never lies. That is why someone who clearly understands body language knows exactly what is going on, despite what is being said.

Just for today - just for the next measly ten seconds, I invite you to stop reading, close your eyes, and see what your body is doing.
Do you have a head ache? Are you hungry? Does your throat hurt? Where are your shoulders? Any tension in your back?

Every sensation you feel is a signal. Your body is telling you something. Pay attention. If you don’t pay attention, your body will attempt to send these signals again at a more intense level. It will continue to do this, until you listen.

Have you had a nagging headache? Migraines? A rash? Acne? Nausea?
If you think these signals are being “fixed” by medication, OTC or otherwise, you are not really paying attention.

Just for today, I vow to listen to my body when it sends signals. I agree to ask what is *really* going in my life that my body is reacting to.

Today I vow to spend five minutes forgiving...

2008-02-17T10:19:00.000-08:00

Once today, if only for five minutes, I invite you to hold a forgiveness ceremony is your head. No one else needs to know. This is not for anyone else - only you. I did this recently and was amazed at the results. I have held onto things so tightly and for so long that I am strangling myself but I don’t even recognize it because the resentment and bitterness has become a concrete part of Who I Am. Not anymore. I refuse; I will no longer allow my wounded self to dole out my precious energy to places, persons, and things which no longer exist and are no longer a perceived threat.

The ceremony went like this: I chose a person in my life whom represents a great deal stress and discord; someone I ‘blame’ a great deal. I would bring to mind an incident that holds resentment, I would say, “I forgive you and I thank you for the lesson.” Then I watched this incident burst into flame. I did this over and over again, till I could not immediately think of anything revolving this person.

I noticed within the next few days as my mind would habitually wander back to this or that, instantly wanting to blame that person, I would catch myself and say, “Nope. Not anymore. You let that go already. There’s no need to go back.” And it was truly, truly gone! It was a miracle!

So today, I invite you, just once, for a couple minutes, hold this forgiveness ceremony in your head and see what frees up in your heart.

Today I Vow to spend five minutes forgiving the situations and people I feel have failed me.

Today I Vow to Do One Thing Different

2008-02-13T10:32:00.000-08:00

Just for today, maybe only once, do something different. Humans are creatures of habit. Many of us find ourselves in a rut of everyday living. Just for today, I invite you to stretch your brain; shake things up a bit; get its attention. Drive to work taking a different route. Eat somewhere or something different for lunch. Walk a different path through your house. Set your alarm ten minutes earlier just to listen to the silence of the early morning. Get dressed and put on make-up before you ever leave the bedroom. Go to bed an hour early just to read. Teach yourself to crochet. The possibilities are endless on what to do.

Let’s take this vow one step further, What if I challenge you to respond to one thing differently, rather than react. What if, when someone asks you how you are doing, you told the truth? What if, when someone says they are doing fine, you asked them how they are *really* doing? What if, when someone makes you the punch-line to a joke to make themselves feel better, you don’t laugh along and instead tell them there is no need to make you the butt of jokes. What if, when someone’s opinion is different than yours, you invite them to educate you on their point of view. You will be amazed at what you learn about yourself and others.

You are more inclined to see the magnificent beauty of this world that is all around you, when you skew your vision just a tiny bit.

About Katie

2007-06-05T13:21:00.000-07:00

Before February 18, 2000

Sometime after February 18, 2000

Lying in a hospital bed - Barrow’s Neurological Institute, St. Joseph’s Hospital, Phoenix, AZ - I am completely paralyzed on the right side of my body, even the right side of my tongue feels nothing. I am unable to remember what was said to me or what I said five minutes prior to any moment, but I know why I am here.

I was the restrained driver of a Mazda Protege, waiting in the intersection of Cave Creek and Grover in Phoenix. Waiting to make a left-hand turn.

The light turned yellow: wait for the cars.
The light turns red: all clear.

Or so I thought.

My car was t-boned by a red-light runner who was driving a pick up truck and traveling at 55MPH. She never applied her brakes. Less than eighteen inches of space left in the car. My head hits both doors. I’m unconscious and go into a comatose state from the head trauma. My 17-month old son, Blake, is killed from the impact. He is in the correct car seat in the correct position in the back seat. The crash is too much.

I learned a lot about who I really was, lying in that bed, a few weeks after the crash.

I learned I use humor as a survival mechanism. (And I am really funny.)

I can write and I am a great public speaker.

What do you know about WHO You Are?