I'm No Architect, or How I Looked Myself in the Mirror and Cried

Aleathia says:

     This week I returned from the Trans Wellness Conference in Philadelphia. My first inclination was to write a blog about the happenings there, and this may still happen. There is some great information to share and thoughts about Philadelphia in general. Since drifting back to this sleepy town I live in, I've had time to decompress the city from my bones and try to get back to "normal" living, but the emotions that were dredged up during the trip continue to haunt me.

     Tuesday, I awoke with the distinct need to do yoga and meditate. I'd done neither of these things in a long while, at least not with great intention. Afterwards, I got dressed and gathered some books to stroll and read on Market Street. One of the books I chose was Molly Bashaw's poetry collection "The Whole Field Still Moving Inside It." There were a few lines in the poem "Who Will Remember What This Looked Like From Above?" that staggered me into falling down a rabbit hole:

Had she ever, on a Sunday afternoon after the matinee, I wonder, run with the antique dealer up this hill and looked down, too?/And were they standing underneath the same tree?/ Did they kiss, or did he whisper to her earring first, words that made her soften in her dress?

     My rabbit hole started by asking myself questions like "Is this the sensation I've hoped for all my life and does it happen in real, consistent relationships? Is this reserved for chance happenings and literature, but is always unexpected?" From there I thought about the Tarot Card spreads I had been doing each month that were filled with signs of love. There has been none in sight, or at least none that I have let myself see.

     This is a barrier of my own doing most of the time. Individuals are not generally attracted to someone who is not comfortable in their own skin and this has been my state of being for most of my life. Ply me with alcohol and you would never know that part of me existed, but in my natural state, you get an armored version of me. I have always been curious as to how to legitimately shed this wall I've built around me. I have seen therapists. I have done self-help books. I have meditated. The barrier has remained stronger than the bullets I throw at it.

     How does this have anything to do with the Trans Wellness Conference? I knew you were wondering. I did say it was a rabbit hole. My first workshop on the first day of the conference was in the general track and it was about how bullying affects transgender kids at home and at school. What I didn't expect from this workshop was for them to review the Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACE) Study. I had read this years ago after watching a TED talk on the subject. I cried then and I cried again in front of all these people. It was how I started my weekend. My ACE score is 8 out of 10. I am a product of childhood trauma, this is a fact. I have lived with it, meaning I generally stuff it way down where no one can see it and move on with life. But have I really moved on? On the outside, I look successful. I have an amazing job, a nice house, comfortable living, and a few wonderful friends. I have the means to be creative and travel. What I don't have is the capability to have a meaningful, lasting relationship.

     The conference was like watching the barn I built around the armor, burn to the ground in the face of the poverty and oppression I saw on the streets, observed gender phobia, the re-emergence of childhood trauma, and the notion of my CIS, white privilege. I took in all the information from these workshops and felt it change how I looked at gender and healthcare. For a few days I understood what it was like to be a minority in both race and gender. The conference was 95% transgender/LGBTQ people and professionals. I strangely felt like I didn't belong or even, that I was an enemy spy. It's possible my writer's imagination gets away from me at times.

     I felt out of my body almost the entire trip. I cried several times to strangers, sometimes in the bathroom, and sometimes with myself in a corner. I felt existent and non-existent at the same time. I'm not sure if this is what is meant by "living in the moment," but it was frightening. I don't do well with the loss of control on any level. I felt raw and exposed and I longed for the comfort of my small town despite not feeling like I belonged there either. At home, I at least know the streets and recognize faces, which provide some comfort.

     In the past, I have been to many cities: New York City, Ottawa, Toronto, Atlanta, Seattle, Phoenix, Kansas City and so on. I have never felt afraid like I did walking down the street in Philadelphia. It was unnerving. I have worked in the ER for over 10 years. Not much phases me, but I was literally shaking afraid. I was overcome with the sense that I didn't belong anywhere in the world. I knew then that something had to change. There were a lot of things to face, so many things that had never seen the light.

     Once home, I felt the need to deep clean everything in the house in order to deal with my personal chaos. This isn't the answer, but what I saw while cleaning is that I let things go and called it being "too busy." In the past, I used food to build my armor and decided a few years ago that it would be the quickest way to kill myself adding to obesity and a family history of diabetes. So instead of dealing with the problem that caused the armor in the first place, I threw myself in to "projects" which ranged from sewing and fabric art to writing a novel. Add about 50 more side projects to fill up the spaces in between and you have my life. If I keep busy and keep moving, I never have to stop and take a true stock of my pain and suffering. I am intelligent and I know this isn't the way, but it is what I do.

     What I have robbed myself of are the most important things: sitting still, meditation, yoga, blogging, reading, and honesty. Avoiding all of these things keep me from making friends and falling in love because I am unwilling to let go and open up. This is what childhood trauma does to you. It makes you trust no one. It makes you a builder of armors. It makes you lonely. It makes you never able to ask for help because of what you might owe in return.

     The Philadelphia Trans Wellness Conference showed me that I need to be alive. I need to peel back the layers and trust that someone will love me for who I am, not what I look like. It showed me that I am lovable, kind, smart, and funny. It showed me a passion for social justice I didn't know lived in me. I have a lot of work to do at age 46. I have to stop telling myself soft lies and believing them. It's time.

     As always, thank you for taking the time to read. My only hope in sharing these things is to let you know that if you've suffered in these ways, you aren't alone. We have to stop thinking of ourselves as islands with contained damage. It is what keeps us apart as a society. The human condition is a shared thing. We all have a part in it and a responsibility to stand up, speak up, and be heard. The world is constantly changing and if we want to survive, we have to change with it. Have an amazing day. Do something nice for someone without the need for return.

Love,
Aleathia

A Fruitful Season

Aleathia says:

Wow.  It has been a good long time since I have sat down to write on this old blog.  It isn't because I don't love it, but I have been super busy. There have been concerts, Pokemon Go, work, gardening, and prepping to go back to school.

Today I was picking tomatoes from my garden and thinking about my parents.  Both of them are gone now and it breaks my heart on the daily, but I can't go back and change time.  It just isn't possible. What I have loved about this summer has been these damn tomatoes.  For years I could never grow them.  They wouldn't come up from seed and if I bought plants they would give me one sad tomato or the animals would eat the flowers at night. I had decided that I was never going to grow them again, but then my parents passed away. Though they had not been together for over 30 years or more, they were both fantastic at growing tomatoes. I was envious of this talent. I can grow so many things, but why not tomatoes?

This year Chloe helped me plant everything. Over our seedlings we talked about when she was little and she helped her Nana in the garden and how she would let her sneak warm cherry tomatoes from the vine. I caught her doing this just yesterday and she always looks so happy when she is eating them. We also remembered our time with Grandpa Jim when, for a week, she helped him water the tomatoes every night just the two of them. I wanted to grow tomatoes this year for Chloe. I guess I wanted to grow them for me too.

Every day I am out there watering them, yelling at them for not standing up straight, thinking about my parents, and smiling in my heart at the fact that they actually came to fruit. It gives me time everyday to think of my parents in a good way, to not have such a heavy heart. As I write this, my little Tasty Treat tomatoes are on the dehydrator because there are so damn many they are coming out my ears.  This way I will have them through the year for sauces and pasta dishes and sun-dried tomato pesto.

I had wanted to get a tattoo to tribute my love for my mom and dad. It has been hard trying to decide if I wanted something separate to honor them as individuals or something collective.  I have decided on something simple.  One cherry tomato...nice and red with its green leaves.  It is something for the both of them.  Something they both loved to grow.  Something that gave them peace in their hearts when they were doing it.

Life is moving forward.  I am sad still, but there is so much more in the world to see and do. As Pema Chodron said in a talk on fear and fearlessness:

"Every moment is fresh. You can never go back to the moment before."

Aleathia

Healing Anger (one minute at a time)

Aleathia says:

Today I had intentions of writing about the race, but something more important showed its face.  I was vacuuming the upstairs after bringing up the empty containers from Christmas decorating.  I vacuumed in front of my shrine and wondered why I haven't been sitting more.  The holidays are always hard.  They bring up so many good and bad memories.  They bring up anger when they shouldn't.

Michael told me the other day that he feels like sometimes I need to meditate more, that sometimes he notices things get away from me emotionally and I am all over the place.  These times shift the mood of the house.  I am well aware of my skill to diffuse the house with whatever problem I am holding inside.  It seeps through everything subversively.  At the time I might think I am doing a good job of hiding it, but in truth my family just steers clear of me.  Hell, sometimes, I want to steer clear of me.

So after I put the vacuum away, I stood there looking at the shrine again.  The house was empty and silent except for the noise I was making to keep myself distracted.  I pulled my cushion out and sat down.  I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to sit for long (hip is bad from running and attention span of a gnat).  I said my dedication prayer and one of my texts caught my eye...."Healing Anger" by The Dalai Lama.  There was one dog-eared page in the book so I flipped to it and started to read.

What I read smacked me in the face and made me tear up, because the truth often does that to you.  Here is what I read:

"Genuine peace of mind is rooted in affection and compassion.  There is a very high level of sensitivity and feeling involved.  So long as we lack inner discipline, an inner calmness of mind, then no matter what external facilities or conditions we may have, they will never give us the feeling of joy and happiness that we seek.  On the other hand, if we possess this inner quality, that is calmness of mind, a degree of stability within, then even if we lack various external facilities that are normally considered necessary for a happy and joyful life, it is still possible to live a happy and joyful life."--The Dalai Lama

Now this portion did not make me tear up.  This part was affirming to say the least.  Sometimes I forget the most basic principles of living a good life clouded by distractions, failed expectations, anger, and jealousy.  These are the things that make me human, but do not make me happy.  This next part is what slayed me:

"If we examine how anger or hateful thoughts arise in us, we will find that, generally speaking, they arise when we feel hurt, when we feel that we have been unfairly treated by someone against our expectations.  If in that instant we examine carefully the way anger arises, there is a sense that it comes as a protector, comes as a friend that would help our battle or in taking revenge against the person who has inflicted harm on us.  So the anger or hateful thought that arises appears to come as a shield or a protector.  But in reality that is an illusion.  It is a very delusory state of mind."--The Dalai Lama

I realized at that moment that I have been in a state of anger for several years.  It hasn't been harsh enough until recently for me to see it in myself, but it is there.  My mother died a few years ago and part of me is not sad that she is gone because she micro-managed me all the time.  She constantly made me feel like I wasn't doing good enough or being a good mom.  It was a horrible feeling and when she passed, I knew I would never have to feel like that again at her hand.  But I was angry too. She died suddenly, most likely of an accidental overdose combined with sleep apnea, and she had denied us all a funeral.  Mourning was solitary and painful and full of so many questions.  Sometimes I am angry at myself for not letting her come to visit that Christmas before she died when we first bought the house.  It would have been the last time I got to see her, instead the last time was at a funeral.

I have leaned very little on my faith over the last few years.  In part, I think I have wanted to punish myself...to not allow myself a way of understanding and healing for everything in my life.  I am not sure I can carry those burdens anymore.  My anger is evident to me.  My lack of compassion for the world is painful and unbecoming.

My anger has also come at work.  I have to say that I have felt betrayed in some way.  This could be real or imagined, but my state of mind at the time didn't help but to further the anger along.  Deep down I have been hurting and hiding.  This is something I learned long ago when no one was ever there for me when I had times of pain, sorrow, and disappointment.  I knew that I could count on myself...that I always had my own back.

But now I have people that love me.  Michael always has my back...and my heart in mind.  He is a strength that I rarely tap into, because I am afraid of how ugly my insides are sometimes.  It isn't fair to him or to my darling child to hide inside myself.  It isn't fair to my co-workers who have had to put up with my very disconnected attitude.  Healing always starts from within.  A person has to be willing to heal, willing to let people in, and decide to see the light in the world. I think this is my time.  I hope this is my time.

Thank you for listening.

7/22/2015 Going Home, Part 2

Aleathia says:

I returned this week from a trip to my hometown to see my Pop and his wife Carol as well as my Meem.  This was the first long trip I have taken with my dear Chloe since she was about 10 years old. It was a fun time in the car playing alternating choices in music. She endured my old folks music and I made it through an entire CD of Pierce the Veil without vomiting. There was some great crossover likes with Green Day, The White Stripes, and The Postal Service. She even sang along to some Aretha Franklin and only looked at me slightly weird when I played The Smiths.  We had time to talk and laugh and just hang out together without the pressures of regular life.  I think we really needed this; I really needed this.

We were supposed to stay at Meem's house, but my Pop really wanted us to stay with him so we chose that option instead.  It was probably for the best because my grandmother has a bit of a hoarding problem and it was evident when I went over there and she answered the door in a sweat and was trying to pick up her space so we could actually walk in the house.  I had feared this would happen, but what can I do when I live 6 hours away?  My mother had helped her originally pare down and keep it down, but over the year and a half she had fallen back to her old ways.  Most of the living spaces were just cluttered, but the kitchen was an atrocity.  Both Chloe and I had to hold back the tears at how our beloved Meem was living.  No 82 year old should have to be like this.

Despite all of this, she looked to be in good health and good spirits for turning 82.  Both Chloe and I jumped right in and started to clean.  This has to be done with a delicate hand when you are working with a hoarder.  They have a strange attachment to things of no personal value.  It has nothing to do with the items as much as it is the blanket that covers them, the hoard keeps them safe from the outside world.  I told her everything I was going to do before I did it.  I asked her advice when making rearrangements and as we went further into the hoard she was more and more willing. It took me 4 hours to redo her pantry which is no bigger than a small walk in closet.  It took me at least 4-6 more hours to do the rest of the cupboards in her kitchen.  When I left, her dishes were clean and all her walk ways were cleared up.  My biggest fear was her falling in the night and no one would ever know it because she doesn't often answer the phone or the door. When we were done, she thanked me for unburying her, for being so kind with her things, and considerate of her unusual collection of empty yogurt cups.  Most of her food was expired and I told her that she needed to be careful before she ate anything.  We would have needed a therapist if we were throwing the food away.

On her 82nd birthday we were going to take her out to dinner, but Pop and Carol suggested we have her over for a cook out.  We made chicken, hot dogs, hamburgers, baked beans, salad, potato salad and the neighbor made her a pumpkin birthday cake.  Just a small amount of my Pop's family came along with a few of their neighbors. The weather was perfect.  Meem was so surprised when we came out of the apartment with a candle lit and everyone sang her Happy Birthday. She was unusually outgoing and talkative.  She had a certain glow about her.  When I was walking her to the car to take her home she told me in all her years it was the best birthday party she had ever had. Tears brimmed in my eyes as well as Chloe's and it felt so good to be human and vulnerable and compassionate at that moment.  Meem has been my heart for so long.  Her quiet love and understanding one of the most beautiful things I have ever known.  It was my personal honor that she had such a great night and that this gathering of people gave her a feeling of warmth and confidence.

Chloe and I had plenty of time to spend with Pop and Carol.  We had been working on our relationship for a few years now, but it is different to spend physical time with someone.  I was especially happy that my daughter got to spend time with her grandparents and get to know them as she has not really had the opportunity.  This is my fault in great part and the other part was sometimes distance and time.  I should have made more of an effort and I didn't, but from this step we take another.

There were lots of times of laughter and so many early mornings (6 am is NOT sleeping in!) and good food. I took Chloe to the best hot dog stand I know...Buster's!!

There were walks with the dog and teaching them how to use the computer and beautiful, comfortable silence that only happens with people you love.

Geocaching Horseshoe Falls-DNF

Geocaching Baldwin Park-Yay we found one!

Geocaching Terryville Waterwheel-DNF

Recently, Chloe and I started geocaching.  For those of you not in the know, it is like treasure hunting without treasure.  It is often physically and mentally demanding (especially if you are directionally challenged).  It takes patience and perseverance. When you find it, you feel elated and high and so proud of yourself.  When we don't find the cache we are a bit disappointed but hell if it doesn't make me want to go back.  It is like knowing you are standing next to the red X on the ground and just can't see it.  It makes me feel alive for some reason.  I drag Chloe along even when she doesn't want to because two sets of eyes are better than one and hell if we all couldn't use a little more exercise.

Because of my close proximity to Massachusetts, I was able to meet up with my Forked Road mate, my 555 publisher Joseph Bouthiette Jr.  We had been friends for years on the internet and more than once he has pushed me to write when I thought there was nothing left in the tank.  He was just as fun and quirky in person as he has been online.  He is a man with so much knowledge and drive and has a head full of ideas that often baffle me and move me to explore my own mind.  It was fun to share a dinner experience with him and his lady Kaylee.  My kiddo was even more outgoing than usual and asked him questions.  Normally she sits there like a silent partner.  It was good to see her have a bit more confidence in herself.  It also means Joe was cool as hell to bring this out in her.

We decided in the end to come home early.  It was blistering hot in Connecticut and I missed Michael so much.  I missed my home and my dog and my garden and the view from my sidewalk.  I missed my bed and my routines.  There is nothing like visiting your hometown, but nothing better than going home. There is nothing like having the opportunity to have a place you love so much you can't stand to be away.  I have longed for this my whole life.  I finally have it.  I feel like a million bucks.  I feel blessed as hell.

3/13/2015 When You Least Expect It

Aleathia says:

I woke up this morning sort of dreading it.  I was up at the crack of dawn for the second day in a row. WTF?  My body hurt like hell with the loss of those few extra hours of sleep, but I rolled out into the 20 degree morning to walk the dog.

The blessings started here.

I watched the most amazing sunrise from my yard.  Watched as it bathed the shimmering snow in orange hues.  The dog stood there with me like he understood what it was all about.  When you stop to watch the sunrise you get the opportunity to swim in the insanity that is the universe.  Oh yeah, that giant ball of fire, we rotate around that.  And though it is millions of miles away we see its like and feel its heat.  Doesn't that blow your mind?

I continued walking the dog and was blessed again by the alley not being an ice skating rink.  My back and poor old Marshall's could not handle another day of trying to look graceful and defying the laws of gravity while on slippery surfaces.  Also he didn't stand and stiff another dogs poop all morning or lick pee off the telephone pole.  This was a win-win walk.  I said my morning prayers while we walked and felt strangely lighter than when I started.

Chloe and I had to drive 40 minutes to get her braces checked.  It is a dreadful long time to have someone stick their fingers in her mouth for 5 minutes and send you on your way.  This time it was great news.  Large rubber bands off for a month and if everything stays where it is, then braces off in May!  And as of this morning, her father had paid her braces payments off in full.  I was pretty surprised actually.

We left there and went to lunch at Cracker Barrel and then off to JoAnn's to pick out her fabric for the apron I am going to make her.  We came home and I walked the dog again.  She played computer and I took a much needed afternoon nap with the sun peaking in the windows while lying on the couch.

The best part of the day was not how well all of these things unfurled but the most wonderful day I had with my 13 year old.  If you are a parent or if you remember being a teenager, then you know this is the time when teenager's stop wanting you in their business.  They don't think you are right about anything and they certainly don't want to be seen with you in public.  Chloe is generally not like this but she has been making moves for more independence and as hard as it is for me to let go, I know it is the best thing to do.

Our ride down to the orthodontist, the ride back, the lunch, the fabric store and the ride home were filled with ACTUAL CONVERSATION.  We talked about the present and about finding out her identity in the world.  We talked about the future.  I wanted to impart upon her how important it really is to find a job in life that makes you happy and that you feel good about doing because you will spend a very large part of your precious time on Earth at that job.  I also talked about college being something she should take advantage of when she knows what she wants to do.  I had many failed attempts and periods of adventure in between before I landed on my career at age 27.  I shared stories about my life that I had not been able to share before this time.  We talked about the real reasons her father and I divorced.  We talked about fashion and music and movies.

She shared her perspective on these things and I have learned in these times it is best to keep my judgments to myself and listen.  I think we don't do that enough for teenagers....really listen and let them know that their opinions and ideas matter and are valid, but that they should also not discredit their parents breadth of knowledge and experience when advice is given.  We talked about the importance of failure and not being perfect.  We all must fall to find out how strong we are.  We have to know what it feels like to pull ourselves up to find out what we are made of.

It has been a pretty awesome day.  F**k you Friday the 13th.  Pfffft.

OM-12/7/2014 Worrying Changes Very Little, Dalai Lama

Aleathia says:

Everyday is a learning experience.  Every moment I understand who I am in this life.  The navigation is difficult despite trying to make it smooth; despite best efforts.  I often turn to my faith when I feel the wheel of suffering spinning.  It spins constantly, but sometimes I have run so fast in circles that I notice it and have to stop.  I have to grab the brass ring and get off the go round.

"Because of our worries and our grieving and our self-inflicted torment, God takes away nothing at all.  We must pray about it."--Paul Gerhardt, German poet.

Dalai Lama:

"That is a beautiful thought.  For us, this means: if there are worries that we can do something about, then there is no reason to despair.  But if there is nothing we can change, then despair will not help.  So why should we worry if a problem can be solved?  If there is a solution, then we don't have to be afraid.  But when something cannot be changed, then we must yield to it.  Worrying just takes away necessary strength.  It is useless.  I usually follow this rule:  hope for the best and be prepared for the worst......When a hope is not fulfilled, this is not a catastrophe.  Life with its many possibilities goes on, and other wishes are fulfilled.  If we put all our eggs in one basket, then a failure may cause us to fall into a deep despair and depression, or we may even take our life out of disappointment.  But with the right attitude, no one needs to be this hopeless."

Quills and Frills-5/10/2014 Regardless of Authority, Kneck of the Wookie

Aleathia says:

I have been involved in the small press world since 2006.  I have had the opportunity to be a part of many great webzines and print publications.  I have edited and co-edit some great rags, but none more fulfilling personally than the zine Regardless of Authority which I produce with my best friend and partner, Michael D. Goscinski.

At Regardless of Authority, Michael edits the poetry and I edit the art.  It has been a wonderful change of pace from being the head honcho and calling all the shots.  It has been a life lesson in letting control go which is something I have always had trouble with.  I needed this zine more than any other.

"Malaga Mural" by David J. Thompson

I am happy to present Issue Six of Regardless of Authority featuring Michael Grover, James Babbs, Brenton Booth, and Ryan Quinn Flanagan.  It features wonderful photography from David J. Thompson from his recent trip to Spain.  This issue marks a point in our history where we feel we need to take a break.  I am a lover of deadlines and consistency and Michael is a stickler for great content over quantity of content.  The submissions have been slow and warmer weather does that for most magazines, so we are going to take a hiatus.  You can still come and read all the great work in these issues.

Michael has a new solo project he is working on called Kneck of the Wookie which works with experimental poetry and fiction and art.  You can submit work to: kneckofthewookie@gmail.com

I have this lovely blog, The Forked Road, which is making me very happy and fulfilling something I have wanted to do for a very long time.  Thank you for supporting our projects.  We hope you enjoy them.