The Brave & Brokenhearted Club: Are You In?

I want to start a new club. Who wants to join? Everyone? Great!!!!!

It’s called The Brave and Brokenhearted Club. Think you belong in it?

Here are the qualifications for admission:

• A) You are human. 
• B) You’ve had your heart broken.
• C) You are still living and breathing and walking around on a planet with your broken heart, knowing it could be smashed into pieces again anytime. You are still daring to be in relationship with other human beings who may get sick, or struggle, or die, or hurt you or betray you…and you are still loving them, anyway. Because, you can. 

This is not a sad club. It’s a club of elite members of people – humans – who do really brave things like open their hearts up again and again, even after they’ve been broken or trampled or pummeled or pounced on. People who have become masters at stitching their hearts back together from pieces and pumping those hearts even louder and prouder for what they’ve loved and what they’ve lost. People who live wholeheartedly, as Brene Brown calls it, embracing love for as long as they can hold it, knowing, in their hands lies the both the possibility for their greatest joy and profoundest sorrow. Because to love is the highest risk – it is risking our own hearts. It is knowing we can never hold onto something, truly – that every love, relationship, friend, teacher, experience, is only ours to borrow for a time.

It’s living out loud, even with broken hearts. It’s letting those broken hearts grow, not wither, from each loss, each beating. It’s owning our stories and showing them to others, so we can ALL BE REAL about the truth of our humanity.

It’s still loving hard, playing hard, giving hard, believing hard, faith-ing hard, praying hard…while also grieving hard, crying hard, raging hard, recovering hard, and growing…HARD…no matter what life gives us. 

But, even more than all this, let me tell you what this club is really about.

This is a club for front runners. For brave and brokenhearted souls who are willing to walk ahead of the pack, alone, standing for their truth.

You see, it’s very cold and lonely walking this road alone, sometimes, but we are the people who have finally figured out, after years of trial and error, that there is no MAGIC PILL. That healing NEVER comes overnight. That part of life is taking time to honor, acknowledge, process and recover from the stories that make us and break us. 

In this modern day and age, our society has found a way to hit fast forward on just about everything. We’ve sped up cooking, eating, exercising, traveling, working…but, we’re paying the price in so many ways for speeding up BEINGNESS. Where is the time to just BE? And where is the time to grieve, feel, emote, joy, sorrow; celebrate? 

Our bodies were not designed to heal overnight. When you get a cut, or scrape, wound or broken leg, do you expect that you’ll wake up the next morning healed?

The Brave and Brokenhearted know that hearts heal like bodies. They take time to puss, bleed, ooze, scab and scar, too. They take time to put back together after they’ve been shattered, like carefully rebuilding a broken ceramic vase from three million tiny shards and pieces.

 

We Brave and Brokenhearted, we believe it’s ok to take this time. We’ve stopped listening to the society that tells us to, “Hurry up and get over it!” “Put on a brave face!” “Soldier on!” And, “Keep positive!”

We’ve learned that ignoring our wounds, our pain, our sorrow, our grief, and even our GREAT VICTORIES of the heart, literally KILLS US, slowly. When we deny our truth, we become the zombies we over-glorify in movies and TV shows. We lose our heart, our life force, our chutzpah (chutzpah: the quality of audacity, for good or for bad) when we give up the honest expression of our darkest fears, deepest sorrows and grandest miracles of who we are….which is BAD ASS WARRIORS.

We Brave and Brokenhearted give ourselves and others permission to feel, to grieve, to struggle, to celebrate the tiny victories and the large ones. We give ourselves and others permission to take time to heal. To be whoever we are. To own our stories, our diagnosis’, our never-ending grief, our mistakes, our growth and recovery.

We have taken TIME back, and given it to ourselves.

And we want you to have it, too. Time to not only mend your heart, but breathe it back to life and joy and loving again. Time to not have all the answers or solutions just yet. Time to recover not just from illness but from trauma and loss and grief. Time to fill your well, every single day. Time to pursue your passions and purpose on this Earth. Time to mine the dark caverns of your soul for gold, and time to bring that gold to the surface, to share with others, because we need what you have!!!!

It takes courage to join this club. It means standing against the old paradigm of HURRY UP AND GET OVER IT, and holding a vision of a new era, a new paradigm while others who don’t understand (yet) look on with bewilderment, or worse, look away. But, we have to do this anyway, for each other, so that every time one of us starts to feel lonely up there ahead of the pack, we remember, we are NOT alone.

There are more and more of us coming out of the shadows every day, saying, “I’m not hiding who I am anymore. I’m human. I struggle. I fall down. I get back up. I throw pity parties and tantrums. I make mistakes. I eat too much chocolate. I cry, I scream. But, I’m alive. I’m still breathing. I’m still trying. And that’s what makes me amazing.”

There’s a funny thing that happens when we give ourselves permission to be exactly who we are. We give others that permission, too. They get permission to take off their masks, let down their hair, and pull up a chair to THE REAL AND RAW table, too. And you know what that feels like?

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh….relief.

So, we just have to keep showing up and keeping it real and being honest about whatever is in our hearts, and soon enough, those people staring at us in bewilderment, will be pulling up chairs to our table and saying, “Thank you, thank you for inviting me to the Brave and Brokenhearted club, where I have permission to be…HUMAN, too. Thank you.”

Are you in?

#brave&brokenheartedclub

To the Mama Silently Fighting…

To the Mama who is fighting silently…

To the Mama who is suffering in silence…who wakes up every day feeling already weighed down by a ten ton weight…

Who slogs herself through making lunches, barking orders, breaking up fights among the kids, all while feeling sick or sad or lonely or angry or depressed…

To the Mama silently suffering from an illness or struggle no one can see…that she thinks no one can understand…

Who hides in the shadows quietly working to heal herself, to love herself more, to give herself the compassion maybe the world cannot…

Who wishes some days that she did not have to fight alone…

Who wonders how she’ll get through one more day of parenting while trying to heal…one more feeling “swept beneath the current” of a struggle she never asked for…

I see you. I get you. You are not alone.

I know why you stay in the shadows, because you feel safer there. Because sometimes it hurts more to be misunderstood than to be alone. Because you feel scared and vulnerable in this space you’re temporarily calling home. Because you have no energy to try to explain to the world what it’s like to be you, to be expected to be responsible for small beings when you’re struggling so deeply, to continue to persevere when sometimes you just want to give up…

You’re afraid the world will just give you that same old song and dance…the, “You can do it, you’re so strong!” song. Or they’ll try to tell you they know how to fix you (like you haven’t already tried everything yourself). Or worse, they’ll simply turn and look away.

You’re afraid they’ll make you feel like you’re a mess…like you should’ve gotten on with things by now…like you’ve met some invisible deadline or quota on how much suffering you’re allowed to have, and now it’s time to JUST GET OVER IT.

You would do ANYTHING TO just be over it. To will your way out, to pray your way out, to fight your way out, to find some magic super pill that would make it all easy. And trust me, you’ve tried all those things, time and again! But mental health, chronic illness, addiction, suffering and shame, and all the other silent diseases we walk through take time to heal. Grief takes time to heal. Life takes time to heal. And you, dear Mama, are giving yourself that time, I know, whether or not anyone else understands.

We give ourselves permission to take time to recover when we’re in a tragic car accident or when we’re diagnosed with a life-threatening disease like cancer.

Why can’t we, and the world around us, do the same for the silent suffering?

Bevy around them??? Send them as much love as a Sandy Hook Mama or a Cancer Mama, because the battle they are fighting feels just as big, just as heavy to them as anyone else’s cross they bear???

There’s no need to compare. None of us have it worse or better. We all have our silent struggles. There’s enough LOVE and COMPASSION in this world for ALL of them, for all of us.

That’s all any of us need…more love. Love so big it cradles the pain. Fierce empathy so strong it lightens the lead weight.

Love can carry us through anything…but we can only give it to others if we give it to ourselves.

I have suffered in silence for 6 years. The world told me I was “too much,” “too messy” as I walked through 21 deaths, postpartum depression and chronic illness. So I hid, beside the few people who loved me so much they allowed me to struggle and take time to find my way out of the darkness.

I have a friend who was recently involved in a tragic car accident. He almost died. His body was battered and beaten, his spine crushed. He’s now endured months of endless rehab and may have years ahead. I can’t imagine a SINGLE person in his life is standing over him telling him to GET OVER IT NOW, to quit moping around and get back out there.

Death, loss and disease are the car accidents to our hearts.

Hearts take time to heal, too.

Do you know someone who is suffering silently? Someone who has lost a loved one recently? Or who’s been affected by a chronic illness in themselves or someone they care about? Set up a GoFundMe page for their broken heart, will ya? Start a meal train of empathy for their soul. Pick up the phone and call them as often as you’d call someone on their death bed, because trust me there are days they feel like they are on it.

Love them…more. Love you…more.

And to that Mama, who is suffering in silence, whatever you’re going through,  you’re not alone. We are breaking the silence around you. We refuse to be deaf to your suffering one moment longer.

Keep going, Mama.

Don’t worry. We’re coming for you. ♡ ♡ ♡

How To Save A Life or “Send Donuts, Legs & Umbrellas, Please!”

“No One Fights Alone” is the mantra for Brain Cancer warriors. I think it should be a mantra for life.

Written 5-15-15

I have so much joy in my heart today. I am beyond blessed. I am so grateful for my family and friends, the heroes in my life, the lovers and fighters who I see braving their own battles fiercely each day.

When times get really tough we have to look even harder for joy. Sometimes the best way to create joy when you’re drowning is to throw someone else a rope. A random of act of kindness, a pot of soup for a sick friend, a random doughnut delivery on a rainy day.

Glennon Doyle Melton, author of Carry On, Warrior and founder of Momastery says, “We belong to each other.” More than anything, these last few years of hardship have taught me that. And I know it’s not just me feeling it! Everywhere I look I see strangers and friends all fighting really insane battles right now. Divorces, moves, financial upheavals, breast cancer, brain cancer, special needs children, you name it.

I think these crisis’ are happening to collectively shift us back into a culture of basic human interdependence. We have to take care of each other!!!! It unites us!!! It empowers both parties – the giver and the receiver! It creates a give and take that threads us all together as netting beneath the trapeze dances we’re dancing. Every single one of us at some point has needed to be reminded we are not fighting alone! Truly, we can’t go it alone, and we SHOULDN’T go it alone.

When we see someone drowning we should fight our way into their homes and hearts to let them know they’re not alone. A few amazing women have worked hard to let me know I wasn’t alone the last couple years and they have taught me how to be a better friend. My friend Corina is a great example. After our daughter Kama was born in November, some of my friends set up a Meal Train for us where one family brings a homemade meal each day for a couple of weeks. Around here, Meal Trains are standard. I love that about my community.

Baby Kama and I five days after her birth – Photo by Three Little Foxes Photography

So, my friend Corina saw our Meal Train pop on Facebook one day, and not even knowing me decided to contribute. She brought a beautiful meal and secretly hoped knocking on my door would lead to a new friendship. She knocked that day, and she kept on knocking for months. She dropped the meal off when I was in bed recovering from hemorrhaging after the birth. Then, she came back to pick up her dish when I was in bed recovering from a week in the hospital with a life-threatening postpartum uterine infection and the whole house had the flu. Then, she came back and brought us chicken soup when we all got yet another round of the flu. 2 days later, she texted me, “Had a little more soup leftover, thought you could have it for lunch today. Mama’s gotta keep her strength up!”

She had no idea I literally felt like death for 7 months straight, that I’d faced a life-threatening illness in the hospital for a week, that I’d had only about 6 days without a cold or flu in the house over the last 7 months, and that I was also suffering from severe postpartum depression and anxiety. She just kept showing up because her heart told her to.

Because of that, we now have a beautiful friendship, which fills both our hearts with joy. She has become one of my greatest friends and teachers. And you’ll never believe it. Once I finally had a chance to open the door and let her in, we realized we had something pretty amazing in common. Remember Dana, from Safeway?

She’s his daughter.

WHO. WOULD. HAVE. THOUGHT?!

We had no idea.

But, I’m not the least bit surprised. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

My BFF Ashley and her son Kayson

Corina, and people like my BFF Ashley have taught me how to really “show up” for others. Today, Ashley is home with her special needs “hero” and son, Kayson, who just barely recovered from complications after a minor surgery to end up with the flu! The flu can be very scary for a kid with special needs and I know that. I know that being Ashley’s BFF means one day I might be sitting at a hospital bedside holding my lovely Ashley as she huddles over her lifeless son. We try not to think about that, but it’s a job I willingly signed up for because she is a piece of my heaven on Earth and I’d do anything for her. She’s saved my life again and again by showing up for me when I needed to know I was not alone.

So today, I didn’t care what was going on in my world, when I heard “flu” I just put on my boots and my “messy bun” do and ran right over there to just show up because I know how it feels when one thing after another after another goes wrong, and your faith is wavering, and you just need someone to look you in the eye and say, “Hey, I know this sucks. I’m here. We’ll get through it together. You’re NOT in this alone.” I brought her a donut and another friend sent chocolates and I stood in the rain outside her door and I told Ashley she could have my arm or my leg if she needed it. She said, thanks for the donut, and I won’t be needing a leg today, but I’ll call you later if I need a margarita or a bag of sand to put my head in.

THIS is how we throw each other ropes. This is how we get through all the hard and wonderful things of life. TOGETHER.

Corina, my BFF Ashley, and a few other amazing loves in my life have fought hard to let me know I’m not alone. They have taught me how to be a better friend, how to show up for others even when it’s hard, how to be relentless in the persistence of SHOWING UP WITH A BASKET OF LOVE AT OTHERS’ DOORSTEPS. Sometimes, when you’re drowning, you don’t even have time to come up for air to figure out what you need or how to get it. It’s those times, you need someone to just show up and bring donuts, or toilet paper, or pizza or soup or kleenex!!!!! More and more, even when we are busy and tired and overwhelmed and sad and hopeless ourselves, we need to “suit up and show up” for every stranger and friend we see drowning, transitioning or fighting their own battle. If nothing else, to hand them an umbrella and stand together beneath it ’til the storms pass.

Get your boots on and your donuts out, and just show up at a doorstep today and see what happens. Or, just open your door and let the person knocking…in. That’s how you save a life…one knock, one heart at a time. ❤

Cancer SUCKS, But…

obyvatel/ stock.xhcng

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.

torli / stock.xchng

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…