She Taught Me...

Every survivor knows what it means to remain strong for years upon years. I am not new to the concept, for over 40 years, strength compounding against my nerves, keep moving forward. Do not slow down, we tell ourselves, over and over. Whatever is needed to keep going, we do it.

Calm is similar to a lodged foreign body in the throat. It won’t kill you, not all at once, it takes awhile, it’s uncomfortable, it hurts. Over time it gets more noticeable.

During our life we saw the worst that humanity could do. Does that mean I lost faith in humanity? No! For many years I did not consider humanity, I shut it out and concealed myself, but then I met Melissa. I cannot write in adequate words the kind of soul Melissa has because words would insult the description. She is the kind of person who reminds you what being vulnerable in the right conditions can mean. How the tickle in the your stomach going down a slide can mean fun. She reminds me what love is, what kindness is, that hands don’t have to hurt.

She also taught me it is ok to slow down, she taught me it’s ok to be weak. She also taught me it’s ok to take a break, but not forget to get back up!

So, even though I may get tired from being too strong for too long, I can safely take a break. And when I’m ready, I can get back up on stronger legs, and continue on, with her by my side.

Embrace it!

I am broken. It isn't so bad. If one is broken, that means one can be repaired. I may not fit the mold of who I was but that person had a dickens of a time fitting into the mold of her parents design. I am free to repair into the image of my design.

I find it incredibly powerful to know no one else in this world can do my illness like me. It belongs to me! My illness, in good days or bad, is mine! I know it seems counter intuitive to embrace an illness, but when can I do? I can't get rid of it. It's like fighting an albatross. Instead, I choose to embrace it. I give it a name. I choose to call it not illness but rather... TennyPenny. I'm embracing it!

My dad's birthday is soon

My dad's birthday is on November 13th. It's been ten years since he died. I feel like my memories of the past ten years go a little something like this...

I see him lying in the hospital bed, black and grey hair splashed against the stark white of the hospital pillows. A beige knit sweater type blanket covering the lower part of his body. He's breathing, he's aware of everything around him, but he can't move. There was a smell... on the tip of my tongue it tasted like decay. In my nose it felt like death crawled in.

BLINK

Two days later my older sister was screaming at me over the phone asking why I would not return for the funeral.

BLINK

Two months later I stood before my friend, Kristen, she said she was sorry to hear about my loss. I remembering shrugging, sort of to say, "Thank you? I'm not sure how I feel." But I do remember listening to "My Immortal" about 37 times a day for those two months.

BLINK

2004: I started losing sleep.

BLINK

2004: We moved from the rental house to the apartments.

BLINK

2006: We bought a house, I worked for St Jude, I was in school.

BLINK

2009: I get hired, I started failing school, I start missing work, I have surgery.

BLINK

2010: I have a break down.

I didn't think of him much during my break down but I thought a lot about him after. Ten years goes by so fast, it really felt like a fast moving stream shuffling me through my everyday, hitting the occasional rock, feeling bumps and bruises, scrapes and tears against my skin, not knowing when I would stop.

Then I stopped this evening and remembered he is dead. I can't remember his voice, I threw away all of the pictures of him, his face is fading from memory. He isn't my father anymore. I'm still glad he's dead.

Disheartened

Since 2008, I have made YouTube videos. I talk about being MP, what it's like being MP, the Gang (as I call them) also make videos. I am told I help people. I am told my videos make a difference. But lately, along with everything going on, time of year, and so on, I have felt less like making videos. I almost feel as if I have said everything I can say about the topic.

The point of my videos is clear; one can gain cooperation with their system, the system is not the enemy, there are five steps to help gain cooperation, be kind to oneself, be kind to others, do not judge others. Pretty plain. Honestly, what more could I possibly say about it? After 250+ videos, it's all been said.

Yet, I feel like I'm abandoning my subscribers if I stop making videos. I suppose in a way I am. Not really abandoning but pausing. I haven't made a decent video in over a month and I can't honestly say I will be making one anytime soon. I feel disheartened by the process. I haven't had bad experiences on YouTube, strangely enough. I have not been hounded or harassed by trolls or haters. I have met some amazing women and men on YouTube. And I helped people.

So, what is this feeling? Why do I want to stop? Why do I want to do a farewell video, thank everyone for watching, and just stop making videos? I wish I knew.

The Baking Season Has Begun!!

When I was younger, say, around 11 through 15, my dad baked. It was the few times in my life I can remember looking at him and seeing something very close to peace. He made everything from scratch and from memory. Cookies, pies, cakes, everything made by his hands, no electric mixer, no stand up mixer, he made meringue by hand. He stood in the small kitchen of our double wide trailer and for fifteen minutes, whipped egg whites and sugar to perfection. He allowed me to watch him bake. We shared a quiet moment, neither of us speaking, he taught in movements, never words.

If I had to inherit anything from him, I am glad it is the love for baking. I crave it during this time of year, when the air is cool, the mornings crisp, and turning the oven on doesn't feel like satan's asshole. I make breads, cakes, cookies, pies, all from scratch. And all the while, I lose myself in the process. Nothing enters my mind except the next step, the next ingredient, the next part of the culinary puzzle. My shoulders ease, my posture loosens, and I relax. After the tumultuous two and a half months before, this next part of the year brings me to full life. With flour on my forehead, with butter caked between my fingers, I watch the day rise along with my breads, and for a little while, I forget I am a survivor and I just relish in the desserts.