Cancer SUCKS, But…

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Cancer sucks. In fact, if I were honest, and willing to be profane, I would give Cancer a solid tongue lashing right now. I would fling multiple curse words at it because it has burned its hot branding into the lives of my loved ones far too much in the last three years.

In 2008, Cancer began an endless stretch of its slimy paws so close, so encroaching, and so frequently into my life, it felt like it’s sole purpose was to greedily rape my soul and break my heart a million times over. As of just a few weeks ago, Cancer has touched, and killed, six close loved ones in three short years. All but one of them were under the age of 52.

But (yes, there’s a “but!”), with time, I was able to take Cancer’s “Pandora’s box” of pain-infested manure and work it compost for my life’s flower garden. For me, this practice brings purpose to pain.

At the time that my fifty-year-old Aunt (my Dad’s younger sister) was diagnosed with Lung Cancer in ’08, we were not very close. She had been a solid, staple figure in my life, but I had always ached to truly know her at a soul level.

Even in the midst of her chemotherapy treatments, biopsies, and a brutal battle for survival, my fears of the unknown – of death and despair, and the discomfort of trying to get to know her better – kept me from making time to get to know her. I am ashamed to say, I didn’t visit her once that entire year.

But, in early 2009, after a short remission period, the Cancer returned with a vengeance and finally kicked me square in the rear, hard enough to knock the fear right out of me.

Suddenly, I was overbearingly reminded of the all-too-familiar taste of regret – a feeling I had known too well after my two-year-old nephew died. I hadn’t seen him for two months before his sudden death – a regret I would live with for eternity.

What Would I Regret More? 

I was scared to see my Aunt suffering, but the question of regret tormented me daily. I wondered, would I be sitting at her funeral thinking, “I wish I had known her better,” or would I be weeping in the back corner because I had, well, finally found a way to know her?

My Aunt Debbie holding my daughter

I didn’t have much money, and I had a two-year-old in tow, but I threw out all my excuses, and finally went to see her several times before her death. The gas money to drive two hours to see her just magically appeared, and bringing my daughter with, which I thought would certainly be a terrible idea, actually created the best memories I have with her.

We only had three months together, but that was what her Cancer gave us…time. Death can come in so many sudden, inexplicable, horrific forms that leave us filled with questions and regret. But, Cancer almost always gives us at least a little time with our loved ones.

When she did pass in March, I made another choice to push past my fears, and go be with her, and her family, in her final hours. I whispered in her ear, “It’s ok, you can go be at peace now,” and when I finished the sentence with, “We will miss you,” it had a new meaning it wouldn’t have had a few months before.

After she died, I spent a week putting together a photo slideshow of her life for the Memorial Service – it was my small way of trying to honor her.

I grieved her deeply, and tortured myself slowly through the placing of the photos of her life.

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But, as I sat in the back of the Church, making sure the slideshow went off without a hitch, a pipe burst in my hardened heart. I wept profuse puddles of tears for what I had lost. I had found a way to know her – my only regret, was waiting ‘til the last minute to try.

I HATE Cancer, But…

I hate Cancer. I loathe it, despise it, curse it, bemoan it. But, it has swept me to the death beds of five souls to make last-ditch memories, swear my unending love, unleash my tears, and relish in final shreds of joy with each one.

I can’t really say Cancer has been a gift in my life, because, well, this is Cancer we’re talking about. But, I can say, with a great deal of inner work, I was able to transform my hate in Cancer’s aftermath. For those of us left behind, that’s about the best we can do, I think.

“Sorrow, fear, and depression are all a kind of garbage…You can practice in order to turn these bits of garbage into flowers. It is not only your love that is organic; your hate is, too. So you should not throw anything out. All you have to do is learn how to transform your garbage into flowers.”

~Thich Nhat Hanh, “You Are Here”

The Big News (Finally!)

Hello there, blogging slacker reporting in for duty!

In my last post, I told you there would be a BIG announcement coming soon.

It perfectly explains why I accidentally took a pretty long hiatus from the work I’ve been trying to do in the world here on this blog.

I was reading an article in a magazine at the doctor’s office recently and a line struck me – it spoke about all of one’s creative energy going to one project, and leaving little to give in other areas of life.

Well, all my creative energy has been going somewhere lately, that’s for sure!  And to a pretty amazing project might I add! One of the three best, most miraculous, life-changing, creative journeys of my life, in fact.

Yes, my creative energy has been creating…

Don’t Mess With My Kid!

It’s been a challenging week, to say the least.

We spent the evening in the ER with our daughter last night – suffice it to say, her ear drum ruptured and she’s been dealing with some serious on-going tummy issues we’re trying to get to the bottom of.

I find myself much more able to weather the storms these days, though, and be the eye of the hurricane, instead of the winds. Some cool, calm lady showed up at the ER last night – I don’t know where she came from, but they tell me she’s Kayta’s mother!

I think maybe I’ve had enough practice at weathering storms, now, I’ve kind of got it down. I also have much greater perspective, now, in the eyes of so much loss. I see ER visits as far less urgent than, say, fighting Cancer with your child. I don’t know how Mommas like those “Fiercely Brave” Mommas from Camp Soaring Eagle do it, but they inspire me to keep grounded despite all the possible worst case scenarios.

I also practice daily meditation – just a simple five minutes alone with myself, without the assault of incessant, continuous thoughts attacking my senses. This practice also grounds me, reminding me of my true inner nature that is connected to everyone and everything, and I think that is what helps me stay peaceful when the going gets tough.

Of course, I did take a few minutes to shake my fists at the sky last night, “Mess with me all you want to, but don’t mess with my kid!” But, then, I realized…THESE are the joys of parenting…the ones no one tells you about beforehand. When I think about all the potential broken limbs, scars, bruises, skinned knees and torn hearts ahead, this is just a drop in the bucket, I suppose!

So, we tried to make the ER fun! We brought a new Dora drawing kit and colored our favorite characters, watched our favorite movies on the mini-DVD player, and exchanged stickers and smiles. We made the best of it, as much as we could, for our little girl.

Trust? What’s That?!

Sitting in the hospital room waiting to see the Doctor, I found myself trusting that we would be provided with everything we needed – far from my typical old fear-based mentality of, “Oh no, what’s going to happen?!”

I used the “Open Your Mind to Receive” thinking and said to myself, “We are now receiving a warm, kind, sensitive Doctor and nurses who are going to go above and beyond for us in helping our daughter tonight.”

A few minutes later a warm, kind, loving, sensitive Physician’s Assistant greeted us, and did just that. At the end of the night, my kiddo drew a picture of our nurse and had me write, “I love you” to her on the dry erase board in our room before we left.

Yes, sometimes, it’s best to expect the worst when it comes to valuing the time we have with our loved ones as sacred. But sometimes, it’s best to expect blessings, too, and enjoy receiving them.

COMING UP NEXT…

I’ve been working on the first post in a series on how the RECESSION kicked my tookus and managed to give me some gifts along the way, which I have a feeling you can relate to as I know we’ve all been feeling the squeeze. So, watch for that coming soon.

I also have a big announcement I’ll be making in the next week, so stay tuned.

I’ll be back soon after I’ve squeezed 42 ear drops in my kiddo’s ear, bought her a new Barbie backpack as a reward for being such a good patient at the hospital, and squeezed on her enough to make me feel better, too!

 

How do you find peace in the middle of your hurricanes? Do you find ways to be calm in the storms of illness – yours, or others? What specific methods do you find work best for you? I’d love to hear your ideas on this one.

Accepting the Unacceptable ~ Finding Peace in Pain

Editor’s Note: I’ve made some minor changes to this post, as I prepped Part 2 and new directions unfolded.

When you are facing a hard circumstance, it may feel like a black cloud has settled over you, and you have become one with that cloud. Your life becomes a dark rain storm, pouring down deep drops of sorrow and suffering into your life.

Perhaps you are going through a divorce, a job loss, facing financial issues, feeling the betrayal of a friend, or watching a loved one face an illness.

Whatever it is, it is your battle, and it can feel unbearable when you are at the heart of the pain.

I’ve been in this space countless times. It has become so familiar to me, for awhile I started to think it was me, because it became so hard to see the beauty of life, surrounded by darkness.

“When you are surrounded with darkness, do not shake your fist and raise your voice and curse the darkness. Rather be a Light unto the darkness…”
~The Little Soul & The Sun by Neale Donald Walsch

Walking this path of loss, I’ve had to work really hard, daily, at making the conscious choice to live in light, instead of darkness.

To do this, I have had to work at embracing the pain of hurts, injustices, or losses that I have not been able to face, from both the past and the present.

People say, “You shouldn’t live in the past!” The truth is, even if your pain started in the past, it is still in your present. It is affecting you every day, whether you see it or not.

Many of us feel we are not equipped to face and embrace our pain. We fear they will be too much to handle.

In fact, it is scientifically proven that unexpressed pain is what negatively impacts our emotional, physical and spiritual health. I experienced this in spades after the death of my nephew. The emotions were so intense, it felt they were impossible to face, so I buried them instead.

It has only been in the last few years of looking at my pain, that I’ve been able to address, accept, and move through that old pain, to find peace.

It’s been hard bringing up the past, but it helped me to be a healthier, more radiantly alive person.

Now, I try to address any negative emotions that come up immediately.

 

We have to resolve the undigested emotions that are buried in our bodies and lodged as stress in our minds. We have to unearth, own, and embrace the very parts of ourselves that have caused us the most pain, and the moment we do, the light of awareness will begin the process of transforming them.
~Debbie Ford, “The Shadow Effect” movie

Obesity, diabetes, heart disease and cancer, they are all the result significantly of chronic, unprocessed inflammatory molecules that have their correlates in the psycho logic world of chronic, unprocessed emotions and experiences.
~Dr. Daniel Bressler, MD, FACP, in “The Shadow Effect” movie

I learned the life-altering negative impacts of ignoring my pain when my nephew died. For years, I was joyless, unhappy, and living in the identity of victim-hood.

Photo courtesy Sunfellow Photography http://www.sunfellow.com/

A dear friend of mine likes to say, “You gotta feel it to heal it!”

I like to say, “You can’t go around it…gotta go through it!”

So, as you are sitting here reading this, I encourage you to gently notice the pain that is lying dormant, or maybe aggressively active, within you. Look at it and begin to see it with eyes of compassion instead of judgement. Can you see how it could dramatically improve your life to deal with this pain, instead of ignoring it? Can you see how this pain has kept you from living a more fulfilling life? 

Be willing to go within and look at your pain. This simple process requires no more then your willingness to participate. You don’t need anyone else to be with you in it. You don’t need any materials (although I do ALWAYS recommend having a good journal and a good book as your close friends AT ALL TIMES!). And, you don’t need to be afraid.

Part II will be posted tomorrow, so stay tuned.

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Thank you for reading, and if you would be kind, make me smile by leaving a little comment. =) It helps me to know what speaks to you, so I can write more on the topics that help you! So, go ahead, click that little comment button below and tell me you were here! You can DEW IT! 

And The World Spins Madly On…

This is a true story that was shared with me recently. I have omitted last names to respect the family’s privacy, and re-written  to the best of my memory in the stunning of hearing such a moving story. 

Cathy’s husband Gary was one of our twelve. The twelve deaths in three years, I mean. He was like a second Dad to us in many ways. We always felt like part of their family.

Gary was a tall man with piercing blue eyes, a salt and pepper beard, a sort of Sean Connery, get’s better lookin’ as they age kind of handsome. It was the light and the kindness in his eyes that met you first, though – drew you into his, made you feel like family.

When he was diagnosed with Stomach Cancer, I believe it was right around his 50th year. His oldest son was having kids, his youngest was off to College. He told the family of the disease, but never told them, it was terminal. 

He fought it for about a year and a half before he finally passed away, leaving behind his beloved wife Cathy, three children, two grand-children, and a few more “adopted” kids like me.

It’s been almost two years since he  passed.

One day, Cathy was at work and was introduced to a man and a woman. Within seconds of meeting them, the woman stopped the flow of conversation, looked Cathy square in the eye, and said, “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Cathy had never met this woman. She went on to tell Cathy she was clairvoyant, and continued, “I’m so sorry for the loss of your husband. He wants you to know he’s with you now, and always. He’s standing behind you, he’s tall, very handsome, has a salt and pepper beard, and piercing blue eyes.”

Cathy’s disbelief turned to faith, as she continued to listen to this woman describe her husband perfectly.

A few minutes later, Cathy’s son walked up, and without introducing him, the woman stood up, shook his hand, and said, “And you, I’m so sorry for your loss, too.” 

As they began talking, she said to Cathy’s son, “I know the hardest thing for you, in losing your Dad, was wishing he could’ve seen your kids grow up.” Danny has two kids, a boy, age 6, and a little girl, age 3. He began to cry as the woman spoke, for it was truly his heart’s deepest ache that his Dad did not live to watch his grandchildren play and grow up.

The woman saw the tears in Danny’s eyes and continued, “He wants you to know, he is here! He watches your kids play all the time! In fact, his favorite spot to hang out is in your living room. He loves to sit in the red velvet chair and watch them play, every day!”

Danny began to weep. Yes, there is a red velvet chair in his living room, right where his kids play every day.

A week later, he was on the floor playing with his daughter and snapped a photo of her on his phone. When he went to look at the picture, he saw something amazing. A giant orb hovering over the red velvet chair watching over his daughter.

The woman finished her conversation with Cathy with a request. “Your husband says there’s something he wants you to do for yourself, something that he used to do for you, and you haven’t done since he passed. Can you think of what it might be?”

Cathy thought hard, but couldn’t come up with an answer. She was still taken aback by this experience, and overjoyed to feel the presence of her husband again.

The woman said, “Well, I’m going to come back in a couple days and ask you. You think hard, and let me know if you figure it out.”

A few days passed, and Cathy wracked her brain incessantly, trying to come up with the answer. What was her husband trying to tell her from beyond the grave? Surely, it was something important! And, if it was so important, why couldn’t she figure it out?!

When Cathy saw the woman again, she asked immediately, “Did you figure it out?” Cathy looked bewildered, “No, I wracked my brain and I just couldn’t figure it out!”

The woman chuckled, “Do you remember how every night before bed Gary would shine your shoes? He wants you to shine your shoes again. You haven’t done it since he left. He wants you to know, it’s o.k., and he’d really like it if you’d do that for him again.”

Cathy began to cry and laugh, all at once. She hadn’t even touched Gary’s side of the closet since he passed, and she hadn’t thought of him shining her shoes, either. But yes, he had done that every night before bed – a little ritual for her. He’d leave them on her side of the closet, ready and waiting for the next morning – a gift for her to start her day.

Cathy and her son may never have believed in angels before, but they sure do now. 

(Thank you to Cathy and her son for giving me permission to share this story here, in hopes it will speak to others.)

This story is a testament to the truth, that our loved ones never really leave us. They simply change forms. I feel my Grandmother’s presence more strongly now then I did when she was alive, and now she’s not so cranky anymore! Tonight, watching this video below, I felt my nephew’s presence strongly again, in a way I haven’t felt in so long. We’ll be coming on up 10 years since his passing soon, but it still feels like yesterday. It’s hard, though, because he wasn’t even three, our time together was so brief, my memories have faded and I often have to reach deeply into the recesses of my mind to pull up the feeling of his soul around me again. I think, though, that I just forget how close he is, really, all the time, and watching something like this reminds me. 

So, for you…a gift…for anyone who has ever lost someone they loved. 

The World Spins Madly Round

This video is for Cathy and Gary, Joy Plastid and the memory of her husband, for everyone here who has lost someone they loved, and in memory of my angels before me. 

Now to finish, one more beautiful thing that was shared with me recently, from beyond…

Megan,
I received this message from “the Universe” soon after my husband’s best friend and our best man committed suicide last year. I pulled it back up recently to comfort myself as the anniversary of his death approaches. Thought I would share it with you.
I especially love the last line, #10, kinda what you have been saying too!

The top 10 things dead people want to tell living people are:

1. They’re not dead.
2. They’re sorry for any pain they caused.
3. There’s no such thing as a devil or hell.
4. They were ready to go when they went.
5. You’re not ready.
6. They finally understand what they were missing.
7. Nothing can prepare you for the beauty of the moment you arrive.
8. Don’t try to understand this now, but life is exceedingly fair.
9. Your pets are as crazy, brilliant and loving, here, as they were there.
10. Life really is all about love, but not just loving those who love you…

In their own words,
The Universe

Today Made My Top 5 ~ Rockstar Mamas, Cancer & Bliss

1/21/12

I can hardly begin to compose myself to write this blog tonight. Today was – simply – one of the TOP 5 BEST DAYS OF MY LIFE. Yup, weddings, babies, then today. That’s how my list would go.

#499 on the invisible, unwritten Bucket List of my heart – completed.

Eleven beautiful, stunning, ROCKSTAR Mamas walked into my life today, and changed me forever. They were in Sedona to be part of Camp Soaring Eagle’s Winter Oncology Retreat, designed specifically for families of children who have cancer.

Ingrid has a 3 year old daughter with ALL Luekemia. She's been in treatment for over a year, and still has 1 yr to go

For three days, dozens of businesses, and an amazing team at Camp Soaring Eagle made it possible for these families, whose lives walk the line of life and death daily, to simply be – family – enjoying one fun-filled weekend of magic, and respite from the traumas of childhood cancer.

Allie Olson of Allie Ollie Boutique participated in giving each one of these women a complete head-to-toe makeover today. It was my pleasure to be there to meet these women, watch their remarkable transformations unfold, and hear their stories of “mini-miracles” and strength.

“I feel like I woke up this morning and went to a fantasy land, and I haven’t left yet!” said Mary, whose 14-year old daughter has been fighting leukemia bravely for the last year plus. I fought back tears when she began to unveil the rest of her story. Her daughter’s name is Hope – and how fitting – because for Mary, Hope is her hero. She just started losing her hair again, but she still gets straight A’s in school. Her Dad had a heart attack just before Christmas, so now both parents are now taking time off work to focus on the health of their little family. But Hope keeps…well, hope. One day her Dad said to her, “Hope, God has a plan for your life!” And Hope replied enthusiastically, “Well, it must be a good one!”

Allie Olson (center) and two ROCKSTAR Mamas

Another ROCKSTAR Mama (whose privacy I suddenly feel a Mama-bear instinct to protect so I’ll just call her Susie) was the face of the day for me. Her story almost seems too shocking to share, too unbelievable to be real and true, and sitting in an arm chair at a boutique across from me. I asked Susie if her husband was here at Camp with her and she replied, “No, my, uh, ex-husband shot me with a shotgun, and now he’s in prison.” Now, her seven-year old son has leukemia, and she must face it alone as a single mother to two young boys.

I’ve handled a lot of pain in my short life, but it doesn’t begin to skim the surface of the daily tragedies these ROCKSTAR MAMAS face. Tragedies of having to explain what cancer is to a two year old, or having to bolster your fourteen-year old daughter’s confidence in the midst of losing her hair again, or helping your seven-year-old son understand why his friends don’t come around to play anymore.

My 4 year old daughter's grief...

I came home from my experience of fussing happily over these ROCKSTAR Mamas, who earn that title for nothing less then simply showing up for every day of their lives, and I looked at my daughter, whose faced so many of her own personal tragedies losing places and people, with new eyes. A simple evening turned profoundly blissful in it. Tickle fests, handstand races, cuddles and giggles with Mommy and Daddy were a mini-miracle for us, because for all the mourning, a perfect evening is a miraculous reprieve. For us, a joyous night that comes not on the heels of any recent tragedy, is a memory worth treasuring.

I’m humbled, though, at imagining the mini-miracles these eleven Moms find each day – theirs could be as simple as “My child didn’t vomit today,” or “My child laughed today,” or, “My child didn’t die today.” It makes my mini-miracle moments more grand in light of theirs, and it made spending a day with these ROCKSTAR MAMAS well…BLISS.

It made today…one of my personal TOP FIVE. Yes, absolutely, one of my TOP FIVE.

Stay tuned for Part 2 of this incredible story on how we can KICK CANCER’S ASS!

Honored to stand amongst the ROCKSTAR MAMAS - that's Allie & I in the middle.

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I named these Mamas from today ROCKSTAR Mamas for another ROCKSTAR Mama who moves me. Her son Ronan recently died from Neuroblastoma Cancer at the age of 3. Her blog has received 2.9 million hits for voicing the raw bravery she was must muster every day just to go on without her little boy. She named her website ROCKSTAR Ronan. I name her a ROCKSTAR Mama, among the lovelies I met today.

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Of course, I couldn’t write this without giving you an opportunity to feel what I felt today – if you feel so moved to participate in what Camp Soaring Eagle does in any small way, they host these retreats twice a year and many more camper weekends throughout the year. They are a non-profit organization focused on supporting the whole family, giving them one memorable weekend, or even just a day, away from hospital bills and medical treatments. In many cases, the memories they grant these families are some of the last they have together before a child passes away. It’s nothing short of miraculous what they are doing, and words can hardly begin to convey how deeply I feel that. Here’s their website. 

Grim Reaper Girl – Part I

I’m afraid to share what I have to say. 

I’m afraid of what you’ll think of me. 

I’m afraid you don’t want to hear it.

My name is Megan. I am the Grim Reaper Girl.

Just incase you don’t know my story already…in the last three years TWELVE people in my life have died. I have sat at the deathbeds of five. I watched Cancer (and yes, in my book it gets freaking capitalized because it’s a monster) eat four of them alive, slowly and painfully.

90% of them were under the age of 50. One was five.

If I averaged it out, I’ve been to a funeral every other month for three years.

Oh, and I’ve moved, I’ve moved a lot, running around trying to make a better life for our family in this recession…we have moved four times now. We had the American Dream, and lost it. Thank God, because let me tell you trying to hold onto that ridiculous image of perfection was only an American nightmare.

I have had to redefine my meaning of home, because it so often changes.

I once called myself a “City Widow” and I have also given myself another certification: self-made Grief Specialist.

But, not a lot of people know all this about me because well, I’m the Grim Reaper Girl. Maybe they think if they stand too close to me, they’ll get cooties, and death and pain will rub off on them, too.

In the Spring of 2010, after my latest slew of tragedies had taken my three year old daughter’s best friend, my husband’s job, our new life and new home, a friend of mine informed me, politely, that the general population of Facebook had deemed me…

Duhhn…dunnnn…dunnnn….duhhhhhhhhnnnnnnnnn…

A downer.

Yup, it was official. I was singlehandedly bringing the entire cartoon-posting, music-streaming, “did you see the latest Lady Gaga video?” mood of Facebook down by keepin’ it real.

I was…the Grim Reaper Girl.

I’m keepin’ it light here, because, well, I did title this post “Grim Reaper Girl” and I’m a little worried I might scare ya off if I get too real, and then I might turn into a downer…but really, that whole Facebook thing was pretty tragic for me. It sent me, bags packin’, into a self-induced hermitville where I stayed for quite awhile, painfully afraid to tell the world what was really going on with me because I didn’t want to…bring anyone else down.

Then, my Grandpa died. Then, my Grandma died. Then, we had to move…again. 

That's my Grandma on the left there, reacting to the news that I was pregnant with our 2nd child that I miscarried 2 weeks after this photo was taken, one month after my Aunt's death. On the far left, that's my Grandpa Bob who died last year. One photo. Three soon-to-be ANGELS.

But, I didn’t post about any of it on Facebook, and I didn’t tell too many people…I was too scared.

It was just a couple months ago, right after my Grandma died, that I reached my darkest point of the last three years. I stayed in my room for five days and didn’t leave. I stopped eating, stopped drinking. I didn’t care anymore about anything. It hurt too much to be alive. Life had become synonymous with too much intense pain. And, I hated myself for not being able to pick myself up yet again…and be a good Mom, wife, lover, friend. I felt so…alone.

My husband called our parents and siblings and said, “What do I do?” He’d seen me down before, he’d seen me grieve A LOT. But after all the losses, he’d never seen me like this.

I didn’t want to die, but I didn’t want to continue to live a LIFE OF LOSS either. I’d stopped being able to see the beauty outside the pain.

I’m blessed to have amazing family and a few friends in my life that always show up for me, but it really is rare to find someone, anyone, who can face death alongside you.

My Grandma had faced her own inner demons, and because of that, she had developed an unusual sense of compassion and an ability to honor and acknowledge all the little deaths in my life. She was one of the only people who called me up after every single loss, big or small, to sit with me in the pain and acknowledge it.

She never treated me like the Grim Reaper Girl.

I think it was because of this that her loss hit me harder then any of the rest. Plus, well, the whole slop of all the losses piled on top of each other like a cheap Carl’s Jr. hamburger kind of made me feel like the “meat” on the bottom of a dogpile.

Worse then the pain itself, though, was feeling like I had to hide it from the world, like no one could really understand or see the pain I was in.

Then, my husband’s Dad called me. This is a man who isn’t necessarily spiritual in my mind. He’s simply a good man.

And he said to me, “The amount of stuff you’ve been through the last few years…and all you’ve been doing is trying and trying and trying to find a way to make it all better and it just keeps getting worse…it must be getting really old. I’m so sorry sweetie.”

In an instant, my heart melted. The tower I had built around it came down brick by brick. And I took the metaphysical gun away from my head and light came back into my world of darkness.

He was a simple and profound reminder that I am not alone. He looked at me and didn’t just say, “I’m sorry.” He said, “I see you…I see the pain, I see how hard you’ve been trying to survive all this loss, and I get it.” His words gave me the strength to pick myself up off the bottom of the dogpile and start seeing the beauty around the pain.

Oprah said on her final show, and you’ll hear me quote this line again and again because I have learned that this right here, folks, is really what it’s ALL about (not the hokey pokey!)…

“I’ve talked to nearly 30,000 people on this show, and all 30,000 had one thing in common — they all wanted validation. They want to know, do you hear me? Do you see me? Does what I say mean anything to you?”

My question to you is, do you see the person sitting next to you at work? Do you see the man at the gas station swiping your credit card? Do you care about them? Do you let them know that?

Can a SOCIAL NETWORK be a SOCIAL SUPPORT GROUP? Can we go past "Likes" and also dole out, "I see you's" and "I care's"???

And what about Facebook? Its called a SOCIAL NETWORK. Every day, in 468 characters or less, or with one click of a “like” button, you have a chance to say, “I see you, I care,” to 499 of your closest friends and family. Do you use that power? 

Plato said, “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.”

I wonder how we would treat each other if we all walked around with signs on our backs bearing the terms of our battles.

The night my two year old nephew died, I left the hospital for a few minutes to run a family member home to her kids. I hadn’t eaten in two days. I hadn’t slept. My entire world had just changed, as if a movie set had been broken down and another completely different backdrop had been put up in its place. I stopped at a gas station to get a snack and I looked around at the people in the gas station, just going about life as usual, and I thought, “Do they have any idea what I’m going through right now? How would they treat me if they knew what I’m about to have to do?”

A man cut me off on the road on the way home, and I thought, “Would he have done that if he knew???”

How would you treat every stranger if you looked at them like they were fighting the battle of their life?

If you’d run into me in that gas station and seen a sign on my back that read, “My 3 year old nephew died last night and I’m about to go hold him for the last time,” would you have stopped to shake my hand? Give me a hug? Hold my hand? Would you have taken the time to say, “I’m sorry” ???

I bet you would have.

The next time you’re out grocery shopping or filling up at the gas station, the next time you glance at a stranger and feel that urge to look down and just go about your business back on your little island in your little realm of the atmosphere, I want you to stop and look at them again. Look at them and ask yourself, “What battle are they fighting?”

Then…ACKNOWLEDGE THEM.

It doesn’t take much. Just a smile, a word, a gracious opening of the door or a, “No, you go ahead.”

I can tell you right now…that ONE LITTLE THING…could save a life. 

Sometimes, the most basic form of acknowledgement is the most profound gift you can give a person…especially if they’ve started to think the world doesn’t see them, doesn’t care.

A smile has saved my life a million times.

A few words have eased my pain more then 10,000 hours of therapy could.

A few brave friends…willing to stand beside the Grim Reaper Girl…have made my life worth living. In fact, they’ve made a life of loss turn into a life of beauty. I can honestly say, I’ve never been more at peace, more filled with joy then I am today. I’m not a wallowing mess of depression, I am a strong, courageous woman on a mission now…my mission? To tell everyone I meet, “I see you, I care.” 

So, the question is, can a SOCIAL NETWORK be a SOCIAL SUPPORT GROUP? Can we be real or can we only go so far as Lady Gaga will let us go?

Take a risk, post something brave, something real. Maybe someone will tell you they see you. Maybe someone will CARE. 

Remember what I always say…
Life’s greatest question is “Why are we here?”
I believe the answer is, “For each other.”
This post is dedicated to anyone who has ever looked at me and with their eyes, heart or words said, “I see you, I care.” You are the beauty in my life. You remind me of the beauty and joy that is always surrounding the pain. You’re bigger then the pain…you’re the best Band-Aid a Grim Reaper Girl could ever ask for.  

Be A River, Not a Dam

I’m not usually one to “create stories.” I believe that every story can be told many different ways. We make a choice with every word we speak, every thought we think, to create a “good” story or a “bad” story out of our lives, our current circumstances, our “dramas”.

These stories often create suffering for us, because our perceptions are incorrect. We have ideas about what is good and bad, based on what society tells us, what our parents told us as children, and what we tell ourselves every day.

We think success looks a certain way, and so we fight to create a certain picture of it in our lives, which creates a fight…a struggle…for everything, and a continual feeling of suffering.

You Are A River…

Look at life as though you are a flowing river, simply moving along its course, over rocks, under bridges, around trees. Does the river curse the rocks it meets? No, because they guide it to the ocean or the lake.

The river doesn’t need to be anything other then what it is. It doesn’t need to go anywhere but where it is already going. The river will eventually reach the ocean, but it does not struggle and fight to get there…it goes with the flow.

I find that when I go with the flow of life – instead of trying to be a river flowing up a mountain, pushing towards some perception I have about who I should be -  I experience less suffering. When I reach obstacles, I simply move around them (or at least I try – I’m still re-training myself out of the “life is a struggle” perception I have!).

I used to damn the river and halt the entire abundant, natural flow of life around me to stop and curse that one damn rock that had gotten in my way.

The job loss. The financial challenges. The pay cut. Cancer. The latest death in the family. And even little things like the flu. The backache. The freaking oblivious driver on the road in front of me.

All this did was create constant dissatisfaction. And, it continually disrupted the flow of abundance in my life. How can a river flow to the ocean with one-hundred and forty-six damns along the way?

Don’t Make GOALS?

Thich Nhat Hanh, the great Buddhist teacher, says we should not have GOALS.

What?! Really, we shouldn’t have goals?! But, then how would we ever get anywhere? How would we plan for the future? How would we know we could control the outcome of our lives?!!! 

Trying to control everything in your life is what creates your suffering. You set up your bank accounts, your spreadsheets, your 401k’s, your investments, your vision of what success looks like to you. It’s your STORY of what success looks like.

Then, you find yourself flailing along on the highs and lows each of these come with, and that creates more suffering for you. Every time you feel that things are not going according to your plan, you stop to curse the rocks in the middle of the river.

Releasing control ends suffering. Control is trying to hold onto everything, to influence and manipulate the course of the river. Control is trying to swim upstream. The beauty and “success” of life is already here, happening right now. The beauty of life IS now. It is not something you need to struggle to reach somewhere “out there.”

This isn’t to say we shouldn’t strive for certain things in our lives. But, those “strivings” should also be a flow – a natural expression of who you are, rather then a struggle to try to be something you are not yet.

So, yes, set up your intentions for your life. Spend time reflecting on them every day. Think of them with hope. Speak them naturally and easily to the Universe and to the people you meet.

But, then, Go with the flow.

Rocks are part of the stream.

In fact, they are a necessary part of the stream. Do not curse them. They are simply re-directing you. Follow the direction they are creating. Seek the gifts in every challenge you come upon. Don’t be a victim of the story your misconceptions would have you create, based on ideas that only cause you pain.

Create your own story!  Let go of your ideas of who you NEED to be, and simply be…who you are, now.