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Get rhythm when you get the blues

I didn’t know what to expect. Nervous and feeling a bit silly, I drove downtown. The neighborhood was beautiful, filled with so much green and shade.

I could just take a walk around here, I thought. No. Walk through the door.

When I walked in I was greeted by several smiling ladies who told me a bit about this thing called “Sweat Your Prayers.” I didn’t understand and really wanted to wait for my friend. But something told me to just go in and see. Walk through the door.

Crossing into the room I was unsure about what I saw. A few people were dancing on a beautiful wooden floor. A woman stood at the front playing music. A table had stones, feathers and a crystal on it.

The ceiling was made of old wooden cross beams that were dotted with a few antique-looking chandeliers. I just stood against the wall. I took off my shoes and focused my eyes upward. I studied the lines of the wood. The chandeliers had these metal pieces that looked like flowers or maybe stars. I studied them.

I soon found I was stretching a bit. Moving my arms across my chest. Hugging my insecurities close. The music was fluid and easy to move to. I left the wall and moved a little out. Still clutching my arms across my body, not ready to be open.

Then the beat changed and more people arrived and started to dance. I found that the more people came in, the easier I moved. I started to relax. I watched some and found that I didn’t really need to. I just wanted to feel the beat and move. So I did.

My friend came in and a flood of relief rushed over me. A familiar face. She smiled. I moved a little farther away from the wall.

For two hours I danced. I don’t think I have words to express what happened. My body seemed to know what to do. I found it moving in ways that it rarely does, but it felt so natural. I felt alive.

I found myself laughing at the freedom and joy that I felt. All these people were just letting go, just feeling and being open. It was overwhelming.

Twice I fell apart and sobbed. I was cradled, held and caressed. No words were needed. I felt safe to let it out. No judgement. Just being.

I was struck by how real and natural this all felt. It was as if I tapped into something ancient within that I didn’t even know was there. My body seemed to have been aching for this.

The connection I felt to humanity is what I’ve been craving. I’ve been so hungry for it. This is the entire reason I have been wanting to dance at night clubs. But without alcohol and the sexual tension to distract me from my real purpose, real things happened.

There is so much work to be done, but I’m feeling more hopeful and less alone that I have in a long time.

Last night I dreamed in dance. It was an exhilarating dream of movement, color, happy, sad and finally peace. I have no idea where I’m going, but I’m starting to accept that.

I’m choosing joy and that’s all I have to do right now.

*If your interested, 5Rhythms dance is held Thursdays and Sundays in Sacramento

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Just a glimpse out the car window

He was sitting on the top step of the porch. He had no shirt on and his tan skin stood out in contrast to the stark white house. His jeans were dirty and he held a cigarette in one hand. His arms were crossed and he was leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. His blonde hair was sticking up in spots. His bare feet were on the step below him.

The light turned green and I stepped on the gas pedal. I took one last look at him and he lifted his face. Our eyes locked. It was just a second. Just one breath. I could feel tears in my eyes and I suddenly found it hard to breathe. The intensity and sadness of those blue eyes. The pain. The distress. I fought the urge to turn around and go to him.

“Mommy,” my girl said from the backseat.

“What?” I said swallowing hard and trying to concentrate on driving. Just a few more blocks and we would be to school.

“Did you see that man?” she said.

It was then that I looked back at her in the rearview mirror. She was clutching Panda, her protector bear, very tight. Her knees were drawn up and her eyes were wide.

“I did,” I replied trying to sound calm.

“That was so sad,” she said. I could hear the tears threatening to come.

“What man?” my son chimed up cheerfully. He had a bag of his sisters hair bands on his lap and was busy making bracelets for his friends.

“The sad man with no shirt,” my girl answered. “I hope he will be OK.”

“He will,” I told her.

“Good,” she said loosening her grip on Panda. Her head slumped to the side of her car seat.

“I’m tired now,” she said and yawned.

“Me too,” I said and reached for my coffee cup.

“What man?” my son said again and strained his neck to try to look behind us. Of course we were several blocks away now and almost to school.

“He’s gone,” my daughter replied. “But he will be OK.”

The rest of the ride to school was silent. We parked on the street and walked brother to class. After saying our good-byes and giving kisses we walked back to the car. Her kindergarten is at another school a few minutes drive away.

“Why do you think that man was sad?” my daughter asked as I started to drive.

“I have no idea,” I said.

“I think someone died,” she said. “But it will be OK. That person is in heaven and he will see them again.”

“Yes, that’s true,” I said.

“I love you mommy,” she said.

“I love you.”

We parked at her school and held hands as we walked to the play structure. She ran around happily showing Panda all the things she can do now.

Her teacher played the flute and she ran off. Panda and I both waved good-bye.

She is going to be OK.

I’m going to be OK.

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Casting stones with third graders

rockAs they filed passed her, she grabbed a smooth stone from the basket and placed it into their waiting hands. In silence they accepted the stone and lined up outside the classroom.

For the next 20 minutes or so they walked in complete silence. Some clutched the stone toward their chest. Others tossed it in the air occasionally letting it fall to the ground. All were silent.

They followed their teacher as she led them off the school campus, across the street, through the neighborhood to a well-worn path that cut down to the river.

Forming a line along the river’s edge, the children watched their teacher and mimicked her movements. She held the stone out in front of her with both hands. She closed her eyes. When she opened them she threw the stone out into the river and watched the ripple cascade out from where it fell. Recognizing their cue, all the children started tossing in their stones. They stood quietly watching where they fell.

Stepping back from the river they formed a circle.

“Would anyone like to share what they were thinking about?”

Hands raised very quickly.

“I was thinking how I need to be nicer to my brother.”

“I want to do more things for my dog.”

“I want to work on my patience.”

“I think I can listen to my mom more.”

After sharing, the class sang several songs they had prepared for the day. The songs were filled with glee and hopefulness.

The walk back was anything but quiet. Lots of silliness, giggling and reflection.

“That was weird not talking, but cool.”

“I think we could have surprised a deer!”

“I’m proud of our class.”

Once in the classroom they had the traditional snack of apples and honey.

The teacher then presented the children with a new stone and said “Shanah Tovah,” which means “Good Year.”

The stones that were thrown in the river represented things to “cast off” from the previous year. The new stone represents the year to come.

This was my sons third grade class celebrating Rosh Hashanah. He attends a charter Waldorf school and it’s part of the third grade curriculum. They have been learning, through story and watercolor painting, the creation story. Rosh Hashanah is the “anniversary” of the creation of Adam and Eve.

These are 8- and 9-year-old children who walked in complete silence for almost 30 minutes AND participated in self-reflection.

Love this.

Next week the children will be building temporary structures called sukkah’s and the week will culminate in an evening feast for all the families.

Love this too.

I feel so lucky to have witnessed this beautiful example of reverence and reflection that is at the heart of Waldorf education.

I was even able to cast my own stone into the water. As I watched it sink to the bottom I tried to let all my pain, anger and sadness sink with it.

I’m doing work, my friends. I am starting to feel hope. Thanks for all the kind words and hugs. They have not gone unnoticed or unappreciated.

Shanah Tovah.

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Hello? Anybody out there?

You are not alone.

At this very moment someone else is going through something just like you.

They may be sitting in their car blaring Johnny Cash and bawling their eyes out.

Just like you.

They may be fighting the urge to have a drink at 9 a.m.

Just like you.

They may wish to just keep driving until the world seems right.

Just like you.

Then why do we feel so alone?

Depression. Abuse. Marriage problems. Parenting. Addiction. Death. Health struggles. It’s all hard and so many are struggling with similar things.

Yet…

We feel so alone.

Our society is sick. Just keep marching forward with that smile. Don’t you dare show weak eyes. Distraction, distraction, distraction. I am not sure, but maybe its always been this way. Maybe that’s just the nature of life. Keep your pain inside. Suck it up. If you give into the pain then it will only serve to make you feel it more. That cannot be good for anyone.

I know that religion is the answer for many. They turn to God and church. They find a community to support them, friends who lift them up and God to pray to for answers and guidance.

I have not had luck on that front in my life. I have found churches to be filled with judgement, fake smiles and hate. They speak the right words and dress the part, but it’s empty. Sunday morning faith. You put someone broken in front of them and you get judgement and pity.

They will “pray for you,” but at a distance. Please do not muddy up their “perfect” lives with your imperfections and questioning. Your lack of faith is ugly.

There are the exceptions. I have met a few people lately that have shown me what real faith and love look like. They show kindness and understanding. Positivity and light pours from them and you can feel hope just being around them. They do not minimize struggle or try to fix you. They recognize that faith and love are personal struggles and that all you want is someone to say, “I’m here. You are not alone.”

I’m here.

You are not alone.

This weekend I went to a nightclub to dance. I wanted to be surrounded by people. Strangers. We did not talk. We just danced. I could feel a connection to those around me. Something about the music, darkness and allowing myself to let go felt real. I felt alive.

Don’t freak dear friends and readers, I don’t plan on becoming a clubber who leaves her family for that feeling. It just struck me hard that what I crave is contact and real connection. Yet, something about dancing with strangers met my needs in ways other things have not.

There was something about being vulnerable, looking like a fool and then just accepting that. Not caring what these people thought about me. Seeing how free others were to just be.

I want some of that.

I spent a fair amount of time over the long weekend staring at the sky. The clouds have been just amazing, filled with shapes and movement. Then the sky opened up and poured yesterday. I filled my house with candles and tried to focus on the light.

I have no idea where I’m going with all this. There are no answers or wisdom to be found here. I’m just fumbling through another day and spilling myself out here.

But I’m spilling all this out in public because I want you to know I’m here. I’m here and YOU are not alone. WE are not alone.

So struggle on friends. We will make it.

I love you.

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Stupid, bad mommy

Holding her hands back as she attempts to punch me, I forget about her feet and one connects with my side. Hard. All of her limbs are in motion with the intent on doing damage. She is still small and I can handle her blows.

It’s what is coming out of her mouth that feels like I’m being repeatedly stabbed with a rusty knife blade soaked in poison.

“I hate you!”

“Your a bad mommy!”

“I wish I’d never been born because your so bad!”

“Your a stupid, ugly mommy!”

Each hurtful phrase is followed by a scream that comes from deep inside. It shakes her whole body and seems painful. I hold back my tears and try to remember…she is only 6. She is in pain.

But it hurts.

It feels like I’ve failed at the most important job in the world, being her mother. I’ve failed to give her the tools to handle things.

My poor sweet, sensitive girl.

From the time she started talking it was clear she has strong feelings and emotions. She thinks about things little ones should not and comes up with phrases that often leave me speechless. She is always concerned with how people feel and is often brought to tears when hearing a story about someone sad.

For those reasons, and many others, I have to be careful of what she is exposed to. We limit media and she attends a Waldorf school. But I can’t shield her from every hurt and, truthfully, I don’t want to.

This “I hate you” stuff is new. This is the first full week of school and 3 out of the 4 evenings have ended with an outburst (each getting progressively longer and meaner). After the rage comes the real tears and we get to the hurt and pain. Then, most horribly, it ends with guilt.

“I’m a bad kid.”

“Your a good mommy and I’m just awful to you.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Those words twist the knife and I want to run out of the room sobbing.

The truth behind all this pain is that my girl wants a best friend. She is obsessed with the idea of having someone she can count on. Someone she can trust. I’ve explained that it takes time to build friendships and that she just needs to play with everyone right now.

“Time is all you need.”

“Just keep being yourself and people will line up to be your friend.”

“You are awesome. You are amazing. Give people time to see that.”

I even brought out the old Girl Scout song:

“Make new friends

But keep the old

One is silver

And the others gold”

She wants it so bad that every interaction becomes “is she my best friend or not?” Then she decides the answer is no and is as heartbroken as she will be when her first boyfriend dumps her.

I’m not stupid and can see the correlation between her pain and my own. I know that even at age 6 she can feel her mothers depression. I am not whole right now. I’m broken and I can’t help but feel that she senses it.

How can I expect her to be strong, resilient and confident when I am not?

I hate this.

I want to give her skills that help her find meaning and love.

I want her to feel whole and confident.

I want her to stop freaking out and saying mean things, because this mom can’t take much more. Words freaking hurt.

How can I do all that? I have no clue.

I know some of the answers can be found by seeking Gods help. It keeps coming back to that. We read her book about guardian angels last night and she found some comfort in that. I’m talking to her more about prayer and we are going to start praying together.

My daughter is amazing. I am certain she is destined to do something great with her life.

I only wish I could fast forward through this hard stuff. But, of course, this is the stuff parenting is made of. The hard stuff.

I just hope I survive.

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Bowie, friends and finding order

I am in love with the Goblin King.

If you have no idea what I’m talking about, then we can’t be friends. Sorry.

The Goblin King, aka Jareth (which I would have named my son if my husband hadn’t vetoed it), aka David Bowie is from the 1986 movie “Labyrinth.” I can’t explain my love. Maybe it’s his voice, or that crystal ball, or the idea that there is this magical King out there waiting to whisk me away when the world gets too hard. I don’t know. I just know that I love him and he makes me happy.

This week I’m clinging to things that I love. I’m holding on tight to family and saying yes to friends. I’m letting life happen and happiness in. I’m telling depression to take a freaking hike already. I’m sick of your face.

I went to karaoke with two of my dearest friends from high school. One of them just drove her daughter to college. The other just lost her mother. We clung to each other and it was like no time had passed. We song/screamed/laughed our way through “Love Shack” and all seemed right with the world.IMAG2138

I went to a throwback 80s concert and danced like a crazy person. We moved from our cramped seat on the floor to the open bleachers. With space on both sides and the air whipping through my hair, I danced so hard that my legs are still sore two days later. “The Safety Dance,” “Pop Goes the World,” “The Metro,” “Take My Breath Away,” “A Little Respect” and “What is Love.” Yep. Even rocked a pink side ponytail and jelly bracelets.

The summer was filled with last minute play dates, spontaneous road trips and way too much eating out. It was everything summer should be. But I’m lost. I’m realizing that I need order. Predictability. Rhythm. Whatever you call it, I do better with it. So, I made a family menu and schedule. Even posted it on the fridge. Just that act made me feel a bit more in control (a topic I’ll tackle at some point).

A new book always does wonders for me.  I started reading “Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children” by Ransom Riggs. Not something I would normally read, but it’s good.  Scary, intriguing and hard to put down.

This is the kids first whole week of school. We made it through the morning with nobody yelling or crying (not even me!) We were on time and the kids skipped off to their friends without looking back. Success.

As I head into this week, I will hold tight to my dear friends, dance every chance I get (sorry kids) and make sure to get a daily dose of my dear Goblin King. I hope you find a little peace and love today (just hands off my Goblin King!)

“There’s such a fooled heart
Beating so fast in search of new dreams
A love that will last within your heart
I’ll place the moon within your heart”

–David Bowie, “As the World Falls Down”

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Really, it’s just hair

I’m losing it over hair. Yep. My little boy cut his hair and I’m sad.

REALLY sad.

It’s just hair? Why are you freaking out?

Because I’m a mom and that’s what we do. Can’t help it. Not going to even try.

When he was born, I cried over his hair. It was the softest of brown with touches of gold around his face. It had the most intoxicating smell ever. EVER. I would spend hours nursing him and touching that sweet little head. It was my first connection to him. Newborn eyes are all squinty and barely ever open. But that hair. Just look at it.

newborn

As he grew that dark patch of hair turned golden blonde and started to curl around his neck.

one

Then it started to flow down and cascade around his adorable little face.

two

It was HANDS DOWN my favorite part of my little guy. We would snuggle and he would play with my hair and I his. The way it curled at the end would send my heart fluttering. I mean, just look at this.

three

Seriously, folks. Do you see these curls?

curls

Finally, after much persuasion, and honestly post-partum insanity, I let my husband talk me into cutting it. But NO razor. Just a scissor cut. Just trim it up. I cried as the curls hit the floor. He still looked adorable, but not a baby.

firsthaircut

Since then, he has had basically the same cut. Just trim it up around the face. NO RAZOR. Leave some length in the back.

before

But yesterday…he asked to cut it like dad. I knew the day was coming, but I was not OK with it. I didn’t go. Dad took him and they came back with matching haircuts and lollipops. It’s so short and he looks all grown up. No sweet messy hair all tussled when he wakes up. No uneven bangs getting into his eyes. Just an almost 9-year-old boy ready to tackle third grade. Sigh.

IMAG2130

My heart is broken into pieces, but that’s OK. It will happen again. He will continue to break it and I will continue to swoon after him. He is one incredible kid. From the moment he wakes he is filled with the spirit of creativity. His face always holds a smile and he loves to laugh and make others laugh. There is something special about him and it has nothing to do with hair.

Love you Coops.

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Baby steps

IMAG2074I parked my car in my familiar old spot and walked onto the campus.

It has only been a few months, but it feels so foreign to me.

I meet with Coop’s teacher. Smile. Talk about our summers. It feels comfortable and I forget.

Time to register the kids. I fill out paperwork. See friends. Smile. Give hugs.

The kids start back to school next Thursday. They are ready. I am too.

I’m nervous about what this year looks like. I don’t have a clear picture yet of our routine and I can’t even focus on that yet.

But I’m moving forward.

Today I will clean my house and dive into a book.

Tomorrow I will tackle the sewing project that I’ve put off all summer. Lola needs it for school.

I will continue to breath and pray.

I will read over and over all the comments the beautiful people in my life posted yesterday. All the words of love and encouragement. I will wrap them around me like a safety blanket.

I will take things as they come.

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Waving the white flag

I want off.

This summer has been the craziest of my life. Up. Down. Up. Down. Happy. Sad. Love. Death.

I want off.

Yesterday I almost gave up. As I curled up and cried I wished for an escape pod. Just push the button and it all ends. I surrender. Stop the pain. I’m done.

Even my beautiful children’s faces were not enough. I still wanted out.

As I type those words my gut clenches at the ugly reality of that. I’m weak and broken. It’s embarrassing, self-imposed and a result of choices I’ve made.

I am a free person. Every choice I have made in my life has been my own. That is something that I’m ungrateful for. Not worthy of.

That’s the gift of God right? Free will. The ability to walk our own path. And I live in a country where I have that right afforded to me by law. Nobody is forcing anything on me. It’s all me.

My faith is shaken so much that I have been doubting that God is even real. I’ve been feeling ignored, unloved and forgotten.

How can we all just keep doing this? How can we walk around in pain with our fake smiles? What am I missing?

I keep having moments of clarity where I think I’ve made progress. I find the puzzle piece that will make it all fit together. These moments are happening more and more. Its like God is gently whispering truth into my ear, but I’m not listening.

I’m making the choice to be unhappy.

It keeps coming back to my core belief that I am unworthy of happiness and not deserving of love.

I’ve been combating that belief, but it’s still holding on. It’s controlling my behavior and thoughts.

I am craving attention. I’m like a toddler begging for everyone to hold me. I want to be looked at, touched, admired and loved. I want to be thought of as someone fun to be around. I want to make others smile. I want to take all my friends pain away and make them happy.

My cup has giant holes in it and it’s never going to be filled up.

It has to come back to faith. To God. To surrendering and allowing myself to believe again. I don’t have the answers and never will. Happiness is not something I can get or understand. There is no magic formula.

All summer I have been dancing on the rim of a cliff. I teeter and then catch myself. Yesterday I fell. Hard. It’s time to surrender and put things in His hands. Stop trying to make my own choices or even understand.

So I will pray. I will be silent and sit still. I will listen and stop questioning.

I have no illusions of it being easy. Rebuilding faith, one that was never really strong, is not going to be easy. But it is the only way for me.

I need love. Please be generous with it when you see me and I will repay you with all I have. I will pray for us all.

May God help me, for I cannot do this alone anymore.

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It’s time to face the video

screenAs most of you know I did a stage show called “Listen To Your Mother” on Mother’s day. It was one of the bravest and most life-altering things I’ve ever done.

So many things have changed and happened because I submitted that piece. I’ve started this blog. I’ve been speaking up. I’ve been realizing that I deserve more. Huge things.

The YouTube video was released in early July. I just brushed that aside. I’ll watch it later.

Since then, I’ve clicked on it about a dozen times and always turn it off immediately when I start speaking. For some reason I didn’t want to see myself. I didn’t want to judge myself. Couldn’t.

Well, today was the day. I watched it. All of it. And you know what? I did a good job. I did.

So, for those that have been waiting for me to post the link, here you go: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ZcWKD6VOPQ&list=PL5oPQWgVdsDm5di3nYoo9oakXebLm9X-H&index=7

And to all the ladies that were in the show, please know that I carry a bit of your stories with me every day still. You all touched me in ways that I can never express. Thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Here’s to a happy day!