I see you sitting there on the deck hugging your knees, a blanket around your shoulders. I see you chain smoking, your mascara running down your face in a river of tears, your hands shaking and your headaches.
The police have left, your parents have left, you are home from the hospital. He’s in jail, at least for the night. Alone on the deck, your babies are asleep in their beds. You wonder how much this will affect them. Will they remember? They are so young; what will you tell them? As you bury your head in your hands, I can see your too-thin body shaking with fear, with anxiety, doubts swirling around in your mind like so many black clouds. As with so many nights before, you will not sleep tonight.
I am sitting beside you, even though you can’t feel me or see me. My arms are around you and I am whispering strength and love into your ear. Please know that you didn’t bring abuse on yourself. The cruel words and bruises you carefully cover with makeup are the work of someone who has deep wounds himself. Your husband who speaks love out of the same mouth that calls you vile names, whose hands hold you tenderly and then viciously strike you, tossing your body like a rag doll is responsible. You both bear scars from childhood trauma, from parents who love you in their best yet broken way. Forgive them; you all have a long way to go before this chapter is over.
Tomorrow you will go to file a restraining order; he will be served with papers before he is released. You will go to court, the order will be granted, and you will not look at him again for a year. Take a deep breath; you will find the courage to get through this. People will watch you, not knowing how to help. Their generation was one that kept this kind of thing secret. Your friends will offer prayers on your behalf, but not one will speak the supportive words you long to hear, nor will they offer a safe place to rest. Please don’t take this as not loving you, they do.
The two of you will divorce and raise your children together in a loving and supportive way. Your children will know the love of a bonus mom; she’s amazing. You will have no regrets, many experiences, and understand that healing is a lifelong journey.
Dry your tears, get some rest. Allow yourself to have a happy life; know that you are not only good enough, but you are also amazing.

To Young Chris,
You will live your life in a community of people who will come and go. They will agree and they will argue. No one will ever see the world the same as another, a fact that can both fortify or tear apart any relationship.
Don’t worry about what other people think of you; they do not know your experience. You can do whatever your heart desires; you will be great. Keep in mind you should not live by the fear that governs someone you love and trust. Guard yourself from being influenced by her rules, her warnings, her harsh criticism. You do not have to live within her walls; built to protect her. She has fought many battles of her own, leaving her wise and strong. She will give you gifts beyond compare. You will uncover them in time; her gifts will be your treasure.
You will spend so much of your life doing beautiful things. Success is yours with each new thing you do; you will struggle. When something ends, it is not failure, as each ending marks a beginning. Each time you fall, you will get up and dust yourself off. Raising your family will bring so much joy; there will be times your children raise you, let them. Trust yourself, trust your faith, howl at the Moon. The Sun will warm your back and you can dance in the rain. Marvelous things are in store for you, so don’t hide, accept the gifts with gracious exuberance. Each challenge you face will sharpen your wit, exercise your patience, and uncover knowledge that was buried deep within. You will never be alone; there are new friends with every smile you share. Believe me, there will be bitter tears. This path has many perils. You are strong, resourceful, and resilient. Sorrow will feel like an inescapable abyss. Let the dark embrace you like a protective covering. When you are ready, the joy in the light will be incredible. You will have no regrets.
No matter what is going on in your life, remember that you don’t need to be perfect to be loved. You can achieve whatever you want to achieve. The choices you make will always be the right choice for you. Take that trip to Nepal, Hike the PTC. Ride all the horses and bring your kids. Being a little feral is good for all of you. Life is to be lived; everything will turn out just fine. Believe you can, and you will.

 Hey World

Under a layer of soft earth, a little sprout reaches for the warmth of the sun and the brush of a soft breeze. This little sprout is here, alive and growing in this time and place. It is a miracle. A small child is born, a body filled with potential, a life filled with promise. A miracle.

I was born a long, long time ago. My body grew as bodies do, following a timeline of normal progression. My childhood was a mix of experiences, each laying the foundation of knowledge and beliefs. As a child, I saw the world from a child’s perspective. I regarded everything around me with curiosity. Each experience, each touch, taught me something. I learned all lessons well, each making me who I am today. 

My life has had times of growth and rest, ebbing and flowing with the seasons and the cycles of the universe. There were glorious smells of the places, the foods and the things that are anchored forever in my brain, making connections to memories and feelings. There were colors that created a feast for the eyes and sounds that played a soundtrack for my life. 

People have come and gone in my life, each for a purpose. Each person leaving indelible marks on my soul. Places and careers have come and gone. With each new beginning, the thought, “how did I get here? I didn’t see this coming” crossed my mind. My vision and understanding increased in scope and gained depth with each change. Pets and animals have been constant companions and protectors every step of the way. They have offered unconditional love, clear communication, and boundless opportunities for impromptu adventures. 

A perfect storm has twisted, scattered, (never lost) and bonded each experience into the exceptional blossom that is me and my life. With mindfulness, I planned a trip to sort my feelings, to understand experiences, to give myself grace, and the peace only understanding can provide. My trip included quiet and explosive times alone. Possibly sharing too much information with trusted friends and family. On the way to where I am I wrote, I took pictures and painted. Looking around my home and my brain, it is an explosion of colors and feelings. Life, just like art, is a process. You can’t hurry it along. There were moments of travel—brief trips, long hikes and times floating between trees in my hammock, swinging softly, listening to the whisper of the wind and the songs of the birds. With my dogs, of course.

A blossom is a thing of great work, of casting off the old and accepting the new. Of honoring the past, living in the present and holding space for walking bravely into the future, as it becomes my now. I fill my life with authenticity, intentionality, and responsibility. I have claimed ownership of my body and thoughts, and in doing that I have realized safety I have never known in my life. My life is blossoming with a sense of self worth that I have never had, and the fleeting thought that I don’t need to be perfect to be loved. I have forgiven generational trauma. I turned it into fertile ground for growing. Along the way, came the realization that judging past events by the knowing of today is not good practice.

Life is blooming everywhere around me, lifting me up, showing me the panorama of beauty that exists. This time it’s the whole vista, not just one leaf at a time. 

Hey Fear.
I really wish you were a rational, sensible friend. I wish you would only show up when I am in danger. When the visceral reaction to your presence would be to my benefit. I do not like being frozen in mid- thought. I do not like retreating into myself, pulling the door shut and building the walls a little higher.
I do not like the way you play with memories, unpacking the deepest of the trauma, the embarrassment, the reasons why I feel less than good enough. I do not like the way you weave those long packed away feelings into situations where they do not belong. I do not like the way you abuse my inner child. She should be dancing in the rain, she should wonder at the color of a violet, or the unique beauty of a snowflake. She should not be shaking so hard that I must revisit her trauma. Tend to her bruises or kiss away her tears.
I have done the work; I know that I no longer have to tolerate abuse in my life. I know that I am a work in process, ever evolving and growing. I know that I do not need to be perfect in order to get respect and be loved. I do not need you reminding me of a time when a harsh word, cruel intent, or landed punch came from someone I loved. Someone who said they loved me. Someone who would beg forgiveness, even as their next attack was being formed.
I know that I am strong. I know that I am fragile. I know that remembering can be part of healing. I know that I do not have to relive those days. I bare the scars as a survivor. I am proud of who I am, always true to myself through tears and humiliation. I have given myself permission to heal.
Fear, I do not want to confront you in places you do not belong. I do not want you to fill my days with ghosts of shame and dread. I do not want you to cost me sleep or invade my dreams. I do not want you to steal away my ability to feel the real joy and sorrow of life. I feel nothing in the wake of avoiding the worthlessness you make me feel.
Last of all Fear, I should always feel safe in my body. I am claiming it from you. It is mine and no one will ever force themself or their will on me ever again. No hand raised in anger, no cruel words will inflict pain. Never again will I be a tool for someone’s show of power or pleasure. I have some wrinkles, I’m not a model. I am me, and that’s a pretty amazing person to be.
Fear, I would gladly welcome and claim you in the right places. Where walking in your company means that I am aware and careful. Where the jolt of your presence is a call to attention, to action. You are valid and have a place. Please stay in your own lane.
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Hello little one.
You think you don’t know me, but if you saw me, you would recognize me, although you wouldn’t know why. You can be skeptical, and untrusting but it is not your nature. There are people around your who are not well. It’s not their fault and they love you. And they will sometimes say the wrong thing. So please, take a minute to read my words.
You have a life ahead for which you are well suited. Things are not always easy; you have the gift of seeing everyone in their best light. I love that about you because people feel safe with you. Make sure you always see yourself in the same amazing light. You are important too. You crave the safety of being heard, understood, and loved. Not everyone will understand you and that is okay, it’s a lot to ask. Sweetest heart, they can still love you.
Little one, you have the eye of an artist. You want to share the beauty you see with everyone. Do it. Tell the story of your picture, don’t be afraid to draw, there is no such thing as a mistake. It is okay to start over. Don’t let them tell you that you have no talent. You have a spirit that no person can dominate so don’t let the negative comments live in your head. It’s just as easy to toss them in the trash.
Little one your words have meaning and power. Use them in any way you can. Your notes make people laugh, your letters cleanse your soul and bring clarity. Even when speaking fails you, the pen in your hand will not. Put it to paper and bring your light to the page. You have magic in your manor. You have purity of soul; you have the innocence that is inner beauty. It will draw people to you. Stay gentle, stay true to yourself. It is of you to accept others as they are. You know that each is on their own path. Their presence will ebb and flow with your own in the rhythm of life.
Little one, your body is strong and beautiful. It was crafted especially for you. Enjoy moving and dancing! It is good to be upside down! You will fall, you won’t break. If you can think it, you can do it. Your brain, not your body, is your limit. Listen to the wisdom of your body when it wants to move, to stretch, to rest. You don’t have to eat if you are not hungry. Your body will tell you when, and what. I love that you already have that knowledge, and that you are so happy in your skin.
The things that bring you so much joy are in your life to stay. Your dogs, your horses, your art. The love you have for nature and all things outside. You stay grounded and connected to God using all your senses, alone or in concert. You are naturally good at the things it takes others a lifetime to learn. You have the gift of being able to help others see beauty in the same way that you do. Colors, and sounds light and shadow all dance in a symphony of sensation. It is yours to capture in the moment and share. Do it. You are love, and compassion, you are fury and peace, you are the cacophony and the silence. There is power in your words and peace in your touch. You are all things in one package. You do need friends, always. You desire a partner. The closest people in your life should complement and challenge you. There is no such thing as love that intentionally inflicts pain. Please, please remember that.
Little one, you are amazing, talented, and free. Trust yourself, see the beauty around you. If you trip, pretend you are flying. And live each day as if it is the best day ever.

Hey Mom,
I miss you. I’m glad you went on to your new life, and I miss you here.
Sharing your last months and weeks with you hurt. I know you were born
into waiting arms. In the place and time where your new life eagerly awaited
you, in the way all new life is welcomed.
You were the most complicated person I will ever know. You gave the best
gifts and delivered the hardest blows. I will always choose to remember you
as the mom who wanted the best for her family. You did, at any cost.
You were raised in a difficult situation. It left you with scars that you hid.
With trauma that you ignored. With demons on one shoulder and angels on
the other. You raised your sisters. You kept house, kept order, kept peace.
You kept up appearances. You didn’t ask for help, would there have been
help? Mom, I want you to know Grandma was not your responsibility. Mom,
they failed you. Then you failed me. And I love you.
I can’t imagine why you put up the colored curtains. The shear panels that
served as filters so not a single person could see the burden that you bore.
Mental illness is a cruel mistress. You hid her well behind the filters of a
perfectly clean home, a Godly life, a family that looked like a fairy tale all the
time. None of us dared defy the mask we wore for you. To step out from
behind the curtain. You convinced us that we were superior. We were the
ones who did all things right. We were the family who worked hardest and
smartest, who had the most right to celebrate. We claimed the most
tragedy. So many times, I wished I could scream, “but I like muddy shoes”!
I didn’t know that winning that contest was how you kept your train on the
tracks.
I want you to know most of all how you taught me. Your volatile nature
taught me when to duck. It sharpened my sense of self preservation. You
taught me lessons your mother taught you. You taught me to love with
fierceness and commitment. With passion and loyalty. You taught me that
the only person that I could always rely on was me. The sort of
independence you taught meant people will hurt you if you need them.
Mom, it was hard to keep up. The constant push and pull were exhausting.
What you did was grind down all my rough edges. You prepared me for the
trial by fire that would give me the sharpest edge I could have.
I learned to love words and their importance from you. You introduced me
to books. You didn’t care what I read; you once told me that I wouldn’t
know skillful writing if I never read bad writing. Hey mom, that’s true all
around. I learned that words could build nations, that they can start wars. I
learned that there is power in clarity, and refuge in the cloak of ambiguity. I
learned to hide in a book until any storm was over. I learned that in every
book there is a rainbow, a way out and a way home.
You were wise with experience. You were rich in confidence. You were
blessed with endurance. The very qualities that made it impossible to give
you the soft landing that I wanted you to have. There you go teaching me
again. You fought until your thoughts wouldn’t make sense. You fought
death as hard as you could, your brilliant, ravaged brain keeping you from
the poison they served you in the form of food. Your body grew desperately
weak, and through it all your brain fought for conversation, for
remembering. You lived your life the absolute best way for you. You
inspired me to keep fighting to own my life. To live my truth. You taught me
that the soft landing I wanted for you was about me. Your truth was to fight
until the end. It was about you living and dying on your own terms.
Just like you I won’t give up, like you, I will love fiercely. My house will
always be clean with books on the shelf. I will ask for help when I need it, I
will let go of the things that don’t serve me. I will let people see me fail. Your
death has given me the space I needed for clarity. In your new life you are
free from pain, and confusion. I draw you close in my memories, and I hold
you tight. These memories are free from pain and confusion. They are
memories of pure love.
Momma, keep the dogs busy until I see you again. I love you.
Chris