The Violet Phoenix

Even with its allergens, autumn is my favorite time of year. It has long been “my time”. It’s when mind, spirit, and senses come out of hibernation whilst all other things are preparing for dormancy. Even as the morning is wrapped in a sleepy mist I am celebrating the vibrancy within and as the leaves dance to the ground in their fiery hues I am thinking of the Phoenix rising again.

The Phoenix…Violet Phoenix. The name chosen for my precious daughter is more than just an interesting combination of words. Violet was my English grandmother’s name. She was a very strong woman and a rebel for her time. Violet is the color of the crown chakra. Violet is the color of the sacred flame. The Phoenix has been an important part of my life for many reasons. For as many times as my world has burned to ashes, I always manage to rise from the pain, rise above the past, and I am learning to rise above my own demons. Phoenix was my 19 year-old cat and most faithful companion until I was pregnant and it was time for her to leave me. Phoenix is new life after death. My daughter is the life that came to me as I was still in the throes of grief from the loss of my sweet little brother. Violet Phoenix…a powerful and personally spiritual name that I chose for the most precious thing in my world.

This coming Sunday is Violet’s birthday party. She’ll be two on Monday. My beautiful child is no longer a baby. It was only two nights ago that she managed to escape from her crib, signifying the time to move her over to her lower bunk bed. It’s been quite a lot of work to get her to stay in bed and stay asleep. Daryll had to go in and sleep snuggled up to her last night. Tonight will be my turn. It’s funny how advancement in child-rearing can sort of mimic the earlier times. It almost feels like the time after we moved her crib from our room to hers. It was new, strange, and a little scary for her. This is the same, only now she is able to get out of bed without an obstacle. She’s getting so big and she is very tall for her age. She is my cute-patoot, my leggy blonde, my Droolie Andrews, my monkey-face-pooh-bum-bear, Frogger, Faerie Liebchen. She is Violet; she is the brilliance that emerged from the darkness and she is my dearest love. She is also the best thing about my cancer because I have been able to be home with her since day one and have been able to watch her grow.

I know that at some point I will have to return to the job and school worlds and this precious time will end as all things do. But I am certain that I am close to ready. In the meantime, I continue to work at my jewelry business. I am now in two local stores. As it turns out, Celestial Awakenings took my wares after all. There are consignment contract papers and everything!

Since I’ve made the conscious decision to let go of fear, resentment, and the invisible chains that have bound me for so long, things are getting better. I am letting go of my negative thoughts surrounding money and struggle, opening myself to abundance, and banishing PTSD one shadowy tendril at a time. Is my life perfect bliss? Of course not! Does it need to be? My answer is no. There are ups and downs and I’m okay with that; it’s an adventure!

So much is changing, I can feel it. It’s taken a long time but it is never too late to realize that you can change your world just by changing the way you think. Even in the midst of the same prowling troubles, I am feeling lighter and I am very close to feeling like myself.

Letting Go

Another phase of metamorphosis. Another journey within my journey. At the moment, the sky is a cool grey and my coffee is a warm brown. At the moment, there is Sesame Street, Kate Bush, a feeling of peaceful joy, and a sense of quiet relief. My handmade creations are hanging on the wall above my computer, waiting for buyers to fall in love and claim them. To my left are a dozen roses that my husband surprised me with the other night. They are opening, sage is burning, and my youngest stepson is about to try Vegemite for the first time.

It’s quite amazing, really…how easy it is to let go of the anger, negativity, and fear that holds us captive. And it’s baffling how we make it so complicated. Less than a week ago I was still suffocating under the weight of that darkness and uncertainty. All it took was a healthy fight with my husband to clear the air, a couple of amazing and enlightening videos we watched together, and the mutual decision that we didn’t need all that negative energy anymore. Yes. That’s all it took. I know that a week is not a long time to say that my life has changed, but it has. It really has.

                      

Tuesday was quite a solidifier for this new sense of being; this new and renewed positive energy-flow. I’d had a really good therapy session which also opened my eyes to some new things and I was on my way to the store for some things we needed. As I came closer to the local metaphysical shop I had been dying to go into but was afraid to because we are always so broke, without thought or self-debate, I got into the turn lane and took a left into the parking lot. I had passed it so many times before. I had let fear of money stop me from exploring what I knew I would find to be fascinating. I looked at the back door of the shop, which is a lovely converted craftsman-style house, and wasn’t sure if that was the right entrance so I walked around to the front door. It was locked, but I saw someone inside so I knocked. I was let in by a beautiful woman who struck me with curiosity right away. She explained that people usually use the back entrance to which I laughed and apologized. As I immersed myself in the hum of a room full of beautiful stones, what would have typically been a feeling of social paranoia and self-doubt was instead a feeling of peace and vibrant freedom.

Immediately, a flow of conversation was started that felt so natural, so opposite of the intense self-consciousness and over-analysis I usually feel. Was it her? Was it the stones? Does it even matter which? The best thing is that I was open and allowing myself to take in the positive. I spent about two hours talking with this wonderful person. I looked at rocks and picked one out that felt good to hold. She showed me some books and I picked one out that seemed to be the most beneficial for my current circumstance. I found the white sage bundles and picked one out along with some incense and a purple candle. She had showed me a lot of amazing things, but my money fears were starting to creep in which we also discussed. It was a wonderful couple of hours, but I had things to do and so I paid for my things, and thanked my wonderful new acquaintance for everything. We even exchanged business cards and friended each other on Facebook. Before I left, she mentioned that the owners might be open to allowing me to put some of my jewelry there on consignment. This was funny to me because for once I wasn’t concentrating on jewelry sales. It does seem like a nice possibility however, so I’ve made a note to myself to follow through on it. If it doesn’t work out, I’m perfectly okay with that. It wasn’t the purpose of my visit anyway.

After running the rest of my errands, I came home and Daryll took the car to do something that I can’t remember. Violet had lunch and went down for a nap. I finished my own lunch and decided that some music and sage-burning were in order. Melechesh was the music for the moment so I turned it up, lit my sage bundle and suddenly I was dancing throughout the apartment in joyous circles, waving the sage as if it were a sorcerer’s wand. I felt light, free and open to all the good in the world. I felt like myself…my real self!

Yesterday was rent-day. As Daryll was out getting the money order for the office, our internet was suspended. We took care of both, which left us with only $14 to go the rest of the month. This is where the challenge still comes in. I know I need to let go of my negative attachment to money (or the lack thereof). I know that in order for it to flow better, I need to treat it with less importance. However, when you still have the car, insurance, and a cell phone bill, that you have no way of covering, how do you let it go? How do you release the worry? I called my mom as I always do, to let her know the situation. She has been helping us to keep our heads above water for almost the entire duration of my cancer experience and while she does it with love and understanding, it has been a source of great stress for all of us. While it did put me in a state of mild anxiety, requiring a dose of lorazepam, it still didn’t hit as hard as it normally does. It took extra work to focus on the continued feeling of positive energy but I made the decision to take it easy on myself. One day of lorazepam is better than every day, which I had been moving toward before things changed.

One evening of anxiety does not mean failure. It means I am human and that everyone gets these feelings from time to time. I still managed to have a pretty good night’s sleep and today I woke up more refreshed than I ever remember feeling. Things are good. It’s just a matter of remembering that. I have realized that I have been feeding the money-monster way too much and in turn, he has been feeding off my fear and stress. I know I have work to do in this area and I will keep going to therapy. Do I still have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder? Yes I do but I feel less intimidated by it now. I feel open to healing the wounds old and new. Instead of trying to shut it off and barely function, I’m diving in. I’m accepting the problems and the pain so that I might let it all go and free myself. It feels like tiny fishing hooks stuck into me with lines tying me to the negative things. It’s okay that everything hasn’t healed at once. Instead of painfully tearing them all out at once, I am choosing to carefully and lovingly remove the hooks a little at a time, accepting and appreciating the lessons they brought, and then letting them go. While I am uncertain of how long it will take, I’m not worried about it. Everyone has negative attachments to deal with. Everyone has bad days and foul moods. The difference lies in accepting it and letting it go. I am no longer interested in remaining stuck. I am no longer interested in negative attachments. It’s time to live…to really live. 

Distant

"To heal the wound,

you have to go into the dark night of the soul."

~Tori Amos

Three ibuprofen and one acetaminophen for discomfort. We were out of ibuprofen for a while there so it’s nice to have some now. I had just left Daryll to play with Violet as she got her bath. Her happy squeals and laughs became surprisingly distant for only being one room away with the doors open. Most of today was spent feeling as distant as the echoes of her sweet little voice. I was sucked into that strange dreamscape again. It’s been happening to me for years but lately it’s been much more frequent. As I’ve learned, it is a fairly typical symptom of PTSD.  I was skeptical about the diagnosis for a while but now I am seeing things in myself and I’m understanding more about how extensive it is. It’s as if it’s become so ingrained that it stretches through my whole body, running like skinny tendrils all alongside my veins. The nightmares, the disassociation with reality, the anxiety and self-esteem issues…the fascination with it all. It’s like I took a wrong turn somewhere as I was traveling toward the exit of my cancer-world and I have found myself in a dark wood filled with haze. A lot has changed since my journey through this place fifteen years ago. Maybe I simply forgot the way.

This really isn’t as bad as it sounds. As I said, I’m really quite fascinated by it. Of course there are some awful days and I’ve got a lot to work through. What amazes me is figuring out where certain parts of it stem from and how some of the coping mechanisms I’ve had my whole life have somehow become part of this greater thing. Very little of it if any is from the cancer. I find this somewhat hilarious for reasons I have trouble explaining. Some days I’m barely able to function, but I know that over all this is a good thing. This is an opportunity to banish old demons. Unfortunately this first requires hunting them down. I wish I had a falcon to guide me…or an Australian wedge-tailed eagle.

Making jewelry, spending time with my little family, and listening to music are my links to the “real” world…or at least the one I’m trying to get to. Violet and I went to the Portland Aquarium with a friend and her daughter a few days ago. It felt good to go on a little adventure. It was so cute to see her run around to the different tanks and play in the tide pool made from an old boat. She was more interested in splashing in the water with her hands than anything. She really enjoyed splashing in the stingray and shark tank…so much so that when I finally had to carry her away from it, she had her first public meltdown. That was quite an experience! Even so, it was a good day and I wouldn’t trade watching her get lost in her enthusiasm and wonder for anything. These are the things that make my life matter. This is how I know I’ll be alright.

Coming Home to Myself

Two things came to me this morning that have been so scarce for so long. This morning as I watched Violet eat her breakfast, I felt a peace and a power like my true self had come home...and she brought my poet with her.

Today

the trees outside

are tall

and silent.

Sentinels keeping watch

in cool and quiet

morning air.

Today

I sit at the kitchen table

looking back at them,

feeling a calm sort of vigilance.

Feeling cool

and at the ready.

Feeling the strength within.

Today

I am the silent warrior,

the guardian of my home,

my world,

my peace.

Tall like the trees,

unbreakable.

My Place in the Ocean

Slipping from this world

on a quiet bench

as unseeing

and unknowing shoppers

pass by like

ghostly holograms.

I feel safe

on my tiny mental island

as life and emotion

create my own

luminous ocean.

I was a mall employee in my early twenties when I wrote that. I had a long black trench coat, my portable CD player, and bus fare as I didn’t even have my license to drive, let alone own a car. Having survived cancer only a few years before, much of my outlook had improved greatly. I had also been getting into my art again. This made sense, since I worked in a frame shop. Even still, I was lost. I didn’t know where I wanted to be or what I wanted to do. I knew that I wanted to find my purpose and create a future for myself. I just didn’t know where to turn or how to go about it. I had tried some college and realized that I didn’t have it in me to stick with it…at least not at that time. It was during this period of my life that I named myself “The Girl on the In-Between”, possibly in a poem. I had spent my entire life feeling like I was never really anywhere and I couldn’t find a place where I fit.

After years of struggle and stress (most of it completely avoidable), I had finally made a decision to let go of the life I hated and quest for the life I wanted. I was in my thirties (still am, thanks), had found my husband, and I had become absolutely done with the uncertainties and stresses of not being in control of my life. I embarked on a new and invigorating journey back to school and I was most certainly ready this time. At some point the need to get out far outweighs the fear of the uncharted.

It was early in this journey that the real life-changes began. George died after his five year battle. When brain tumors want to take a person, it is without mercy in speed and devastation. The most intense grieving of my life put me into a strange, painful, beautiful and surreal parallel dimension. The whole world began to shift around me and I decided that since nothing is guaranteed for anyone, there was no reason not to free myself from the life I hated. After the next tragedy, I walked away from what was no longer worth rotting in. I started to make the changes instead of just letting life happen to me. There were still struggles but it didn’t feel so futile. The world started to crumble again and I had my beautiful daughter. Things began to go right again. Things were getting better…until cancer decided to kick me around for a second time.

Fortunately, I’ve almost mastered rolling with the punches and learning from every kick in the gut. I’ve learned that there’s just not enough time to find all the meanings, answers and reasons. Sometimes there are no reasons, so you’ve got to create your own meanings and answer your own questions. Even when the world seems to be swallowing you and you’re in pain and you can’t make yourself leave your apartment unless you have to, you are still more free than ever before when you start honestly seeking your own truth while others are waiting for someone else to tell them. It’s the biggest weight lifted. I still live on the in-between so I remember to keep learning so I don't get stuck somewhere again. These days, my “tiny mental island” has three flights of stairs, a purple door, some animals, and room for my little family...oh and internet access.

Pharon looks so fancy in jewelry!

Overalls, sprinklers, and a garden

She lives for the park!

I turn stress and anxiety into shiny things.

Blood, Tears, and the Pain of Young Love

It was in high school. I think I was 16. I had a boyfriend at the time...my first. But there was a friend who my father didn't like. A boy who had a shitty family life. There was something about him, and it wasn't just because he was a black sheep. True, he was a bit of a troublemaker but back then, I had a way with finding the beauty in some troublemakers. Somehow they would come to trust me. One day I learned he had run away from home and no one knew where he was. I remember sitting in my English class crying my eyes out to a friend. He was so very dear to me and I'm pretty sure I loved him. A few days later he came walking up to my front yard. I saw him through the large picture window of our living room and before he could reach the front door, I flew out to greet him, almost falling into his arms. Apparently he heard that I had been crying over him, so he returned home. I was good to my boyfriend, but kept this boy as a close friend. I remember how we would spend hours on the phone and sometimes he'd play songs on his stereo and hold the phone to it so I could hear. One day I went to his house. His mother was sweet but I knew his father was a tyrant and I'm glad he was not there. As an apology for causing me pain, he played me this song. It was the first time hearing it for me. It made me fall in love with Danzig...and I think maybe with him. As much love as a teenage girl can feel for a boy anyway. When I had to move away from Utah, I remember seeing him. I remember standing outside his house in the dark as we held onto one another. I cried into his chest and he stroked my hair in a way that no one ever had. We did see each other again and after I had broken up with my boyfriend, he took his place. He traveled the miles to Oregon for a visit. I almost gave him my virginity at that time, but I wasn't ready and he was sweet about it. It was some time later, not too long, that I broke his heart. He had left his abusive home, made the trip again to see me with a suitcase in his hand. He said he was back to stay. He said he had come back for me. By this time, I had become terrified of my feelings. Love scared me back then, and I had a habit of running from it for a long time. I was cruel to him and I sent him away, informing him that I did not wish to see him. I had become so uncertain and so afraid....and then horribly guilty. When I broke his heart, I broke mine too. 

I don't know what happened to you. I don't know where you are. I know you will never see this, but I'm sorry. I am so sorry. I hope you are happy. I hope your life is wonderful and I hope that you forgive me. I am happy. I have a family. I stopped crying for you years ago, but every time I hear this song my heart does still bleed just a little bit. 

The Importance of Hardship and Sharing

Surgery went well and I am on a LOT of pain pills. Each day I feel a little better, even though I'm tired most of the time. I can only raise my left arm straight out in front, lower on the side, and above my head is out of the question. My physical therapist has ordered me to do nothing more vigorous than typing and beading, as far as my arms are concerned. Dr. Gabriel agrees with this, but he has also ordered me to get some exercise, such as going for short walks. The hardest part is not being able to pick up Violet. Instead, I sit on the floor and give her hugs and kisses. Sometimes she sits in my lap. There's still much to do as far as reconstruction is concerned, and I'm not just talking about my breasts.