Fork In The Road

There are times in your life where you’ll be standing at a fork in the road, and not even realize how detrimental this one decision can be. How vast a contrast one decision from another really is. Or how it will alter your entire life. This was me when I decided to leave Germany to follow the love of my life to the States. This was the difference between expansion and stagnation. This wasn’t just a turning point, it was the turning point.

This is Michael Heppner; Husband, father, German Teacher, and Boys Soccer Coach, but his story holds so much value beneath that. I respect his ability to self reflect, and not only observe past faults and take ownership but also a willingness to correct them, is something we can all learn from. Thank you for taking the time to share the parts of you that make you who you are today.

Can you think of a time you were untrue to yourself?

Honestly, I spent from the day I was born, to 19 years old, always trying to be something or someone that I wasn’t. I came from an environment that reinforced that the external mattered more than the internal. This was a part of an era that many can relate to, perhaps you could say a generational way of thinking. These outside markers were of utmost importance…the win, the grade, the success…always measuring.

My brother was held to a very high standard, there were expectations to be a teacher and do big things in life. He was very intelligent and met the standards given, however, this wasn’t the same for me. There were predetermined opinions and expectations of me as well, most of which I felt were negative. Instead of proving them wrong by showing them who I truly was, I behaved in a way that actually solidified that opinion of me. My father would tell me, ‘Michael, you are not very bright, but you are a hard worker. Get a job in construction, or drive truck.’ Even though I was intelligent, I chose not to show it. Instead, I chose to drink, smoke and make poor decisions. With poor decisions, came poor grades and consequences. It wasn’t until later that I realized that wasn’t a life I had to live, and there were other options and avenues to pursue.

What was a major crossroad in your life?

Growing up, my mom was a butcher and my dad a Lieutenant Colonel in the German Military, so my home life was very structured and controlled. My mom made every meal, did my laundry, and cleaned, so much so, that I still find myself falling back into old habits when I enter their home. There’s very little of my daily routine that wasn’t calculated. Upon graduation, I entered the military, as this is a one-year minimum requirement for citizens in Germany. This included living in the barracks during the week and returning home on the weekends. I had become so used to being at home, with comfort and structure, that I would cry on Sundays, knowing I had to leave again. The plan after Basic Training was to be a cook in the Military and live at home.

It’s 1998, and I’m in my prime. I’m 21 years old when I attend our town festival ‘Karneval’. The “cool” thing at the time was to have “business cards” made with your address and the school you’re attending. My buddy made me some that had just come in that day. Before leaving that night, I gave my card to this girl. I didn’t think I’d hear from her, but a few weeks later, I got a letter in the mail. She was nannying for a family an hour from my parents. From then on out, we spent as much time together as we could before she had to leave for the States. This was my first glimpse into the possibility of life outside of the mundane routine I’d become accustomed to. That day, the festival, the business card, the timing – HER. It changed everything, forever. She later became my wife and a catalyst for the life I wanted to live.

How was the transition to the US? If you could sum up America in a phrase, what would it be?

My parents were not only devastated when I left but again when I become an official American citizen. When I got US citizenship, my mom said: “Mike, it’s like we’re losing you all over again.” It’s difficult to take on a new culture, especially when you’re so shielded from the world. Alot of things were regulated, there’s no fishing or hunting, and you also don’t have school sports. They’re separate from each other. You can’t even have a bonfire in your backyard. When you have 82 million people living in a space the size of Montana, living gets tight, you don’t have yards and some basic freedom that we’re used too here..

My one phrase to sum up America, in my opinion, is “From the dishwasher to the millionaire, America is great!”

What is the biggest mistake or failure, that has also been your greatest teacher?

My dad was my badminton coach and I was very involved with soccer. Never was I asked how the game was, or if I had fun, only if we won. If we lost, it was on me/us to continually do better and more. Winning became not only a measurement of success but also a measurement of self-worth. You won, no matter the cost. Period. That mentality carried over into my coaching when I started coaching Girls Soccer. I didn’t realize the capacity in which my actions were hurting others. I would scream on the sidelines, outraged at mistakes and losses. At a certain point, my wife quit coming to the games because of my behavior. But I didn’t care, and I didn’t know better. The win was everything, it was the only measuring tool.

A couple of years into coaching, it was mandated that we attend a conference called “Why We Play”. Apprehensive and annoyed at the thought of wasting a summer day in a conference instead of fishing, I went. There was one phrase that struck me, “You don’t work at, or win a sport, you play a sport”. This changed the way I coached from that day forward. It took a lot of introspection, and self-examination of my behaviors and my belief systems behind what sports are. I want the players to learn and grow from opportunities, not to teach through dictating from a fear-driven perspective. Instead of being a measurement of self-worth, I want them to reflect on if they put their best effort forth. I want them to know we can have personal wins, without winning the game.

I destroyed a lot of relationships with athletes and ruined their love for sports. To this day, I deeply regret those wrongs. I have learned that the most important part of teaching and coaching, is the positive impact you can have on anyone, despite their performance. There is an opportunity for growth through every “failure”. Now, I coach from the sidelines, I don’t pull a player out for every mistake or ridicule them in front of their teammates. I know they are doing the best they can at the time, and my job is to allow them to learn in a safe environment. My passion for both coaching and teaching has changed from winning to connection and support.

What is something most wouldn’t know about you?

I was a vegetarian for most of my childhood. For the longest time, I only ate bread and chocolate milk. When your mother is a butcher, this is an insult. When you don’t have a lot of control in your life, you focus on the things you can control. For me, it was what I ate. My parents took me to Psychologists to better understand what was “wrong” with me but were not successful. I didn’t know how to verbalize it at the time, but I would say it was my way of being defiant, feeling as if I had a say in one area of my life.

What is your greatest accomplishment(s)?

I would be lying if I said a primary drive behind obtaining my teaching degree, was just others’ opinions of me. The idea of the degree seemed too high of an expectation, but a challenge I was up for, largely in part of the encouragement from my wife. Although history intrigues me, I thought I could add another dynamic to teaching German by being able to share the culture from a personal perspective. Earning this degree was a huge milestone, it represents so many things to me. I am grateful to be able to teach youth, and I hope in ways that extend beyond the mandated curriculum.

Who is the most influential person in your life?

Hands down, without a doubt, my wife, Debbie. Without her, there’s a lot of things I wouldn’t be, she’s all of my reasons.

Overall, when I see things being done that I don’t agree with, or poor role models, I just try and take note of that, and do the opposite, to the best of my abilities.

**We can all learn from others’ stories! Feel free to share if this resonates with you!**

**If you’re at a ‘fork in the road’ in your life and would like additional support, book a complimentary call at www.crisisaverted.org **

About That Wall…

bkk slums 5

During our time in Thailand, we were primarily based in Bangkok. I wanted my then, 12 year-old daughter see each end of the spectrum. I wanted her to get a glimpse of an International school, with elite education and see what a small and safe environment of learning can look like, while also getting a glimpse of poverty at its worst. This brief opportunity gave us an amazing, and also very harsh awakening into the truths of poverty and violence. As per the norm, while I’m wanting her to learn about these topics, I myself end up getting just as much, if not more, of an education! In Bangkok, the “lowest of the lows”, are the slums. The slums grew at a rapid rate after the Bangkok pig slaughterhouse was shut down. (Highly recommend the quick, easy and eye opening read, “Welcome to the Bangkok Slaughterhouse “) This was their main source of income and it employed many, maintaining a large lower to middle class and kept thousands from experiencing the true depths of poverty. When the slaughter house was closed, is where poverty grew at a substantial rate. Just to compare, this would be similar to Mayo Clinic, Rochester, being relocated or shut down. 40,000 people unemployed, immediately. Half of the state, plus thousands more, would feel the immediate affects of this. We seen this with GM in Flint, Michigan. The average household income in Flint used to be 80k. We all know this is far from the case now, as similar to Bangkok, clean running water is not a luxury. The BKK slums, consists of 2-300,000 people living under the bridge alone, along with “slum” type housing, which is where on average, 2-10 people could be sleeping in the same small shack or room, (when I say “room”, I mean half the size of an average American bedroom) with communal showers and cooking spaces.

We had the opportunity to spend a couple of days volunteering at a slum daycare/pre-kinder care. This place was simply a safe haven from 7:30-3:30 each day for kids, infant to 3 years old, to come and learn, have clean diapers, sanitary conditions, sing, dance and have nutritious meals. Most of these children were found alone in their shacks, while their parents attempted to provide during the day. Daycare isn’t exactly a luxury and working in the slums can consist of running street food carts, selling street goods (flowers, knick knacks etc), or running drugs. Anything to attempt to make a baht (their currency) or 2, anything to simply stay alive and survive another day, to some, that survival means another hit, to some it means food for their children. None of these “jobs” call for children being on the job (as we can relate). So this place provides an opportunity for kids to be safe and interact, play and learns with others.

Why do they keep reproducing you ask? Good question. When your average drop out rate in the public school system is 2nd grade, it’s safe to say basic sex education or access to contraceptives/protection probably isn’t top priority, or as obvious as one would think!

This is something I wrote while over there, that sums it up perfectly….

“I don’t care what anyone says about immigrants or refugees – and I’m not denying the fact that we have plenty of this in our own country – at the end of the day, it’s all the same song and dance – a nonstop driving force between the wealthy and poor, with next to no true, interactive help from the governments. But seriously, before you spout at the mouth – I first dare you to come to these places and see these conditions before you ever judge these people for wanting something better. We want better for our kids all the time! These are babies, innocent children added to conditions they didn’t ask for, on behalf of circumstances many of their parents didn’t ask for. It is so heartbreaking to see such despair, to think of a girl wanting to graduate as her mom has been saving 300 baht ($9 American money, we spend this daily on lattes and happy hour) to graduate, for something she worked so hard for in the hopes to better to herself, only to have it stolen from her – when we buy our kids clothes and electronics that could HOUSE these families for that money! It is not a matter of circumstance or choice, this is poverty! It breeds itself just like the wealthy breeds itself – both ignorant – just in different ways.
In the same breath – it’s so heartwarming to see what they’re doing – which is simply just trying – a little at a time to make it better, even if just for awhile. Even if these kids end up on the same path as their parents, to just be able to experience the basics – to know love, to feel a hug, to hear a compliment, to taste a meal just for a moment in time – then that has to mean something….”
This is so needed right now in a wealthy, divided country, to better understand what poverty looks like. I’m so confused how in one minute people are praising or posting that “God is great” and in the next sentence or post, we’re saying build a wall? How are these not contradictory?! We’re either in a state of division or unity, and it’s hard to be christian like, when we’re only choosing to be towards our own. I’m certainly not much a bible banger, but last I checked, that wasn’t the word of the Lord. (correct me if I’m wrong and missed that verse) I simply cannot condone shunning another, especially a parent for wanting their child to simply know what the basics of a meal, clothing, shelter and love feels like. I will never condone standing at the borders tear gassing another race that are simply seeking safety. They aren’t there with weapons, wanting to wage war, they are seeking help. We would never stand for this to happen to our own children, and yet we have no problem allowing our egos to say we can’t afford it, or they aren’t worthy, or too damn bad, go back to your own country. I know there are many sides to this debate, and I’m fully aware there is far more that goes into this then just simply letting people walk across the border, but the primary reasoning for this entry, is topics like the Hondurian Caravan, along with many, many others who have endured similar situations and asked for help. I cry watching us treat other humans, especially mothers, fathers and children with such hate and dehumanization. While we sit back on our screens, high and mighty and say build a wall?!
So, I ask, that while many are promoting this wall, or as you scuff at the site of a 3 year old getting tear gassed or a mother trying to do whatever necessary to save her child, on the off chance that they survive and are given an opportunity for something better, that you think of your own. Simply allow yourself to go to a place of despair, of complete loss and hopelessness. Allow yourself to imagine the thought of sending your 7 year old to school, with the constant concern of the drug cartel walking in and hand picking them at random. Selling the girls to the sex trafficking and training the boys to be a “soldier”. Now imagine, being a teacher in those schools, attempting to protect these innocent children, only to be shot at point blank when resisting. Imagine being a parent who is told your child has been taken and there is no opportunity to save them. Knowing they’ll be forced to feed a horrific cause, drugged, sold, raped and taught to kill. And then tell me you wouldn’t do the same for your family and children if you were forced into these conditions. Build the wall, don’t build the wall, side Democratic or Republican, Pro-Trump, anti-Trump, I really don’t care, but choose to see these situations simply as a human being, nothing more. Not as an American, as white, black, middle-class or upper-class or inferior, superior, but simply beyond money or greed. I don’t care what news station covered what story or what half truth they’re each telling, this is basic human compassion for another in hard times. When you drop the labels around another person, you see it’s just a person in need. We have all been in these positions and been fortunate enough to have those around us to help us, that weren’t all drowning at the same time. I’m not asking for anyone to change their political views or to provide a platform for further fighting, hate and division, I just want you to look at your kids, your parents, your siblings, families and neighbors and picture yourself in a reverse situation, would you still want a wall then?
bkk house of praise kids cropped

#WOTY

Blog - WOY 2019

Ever made a New Years Resolution, only to get to February and either forget about it, or mentally give it the middle finger? #storyofmylife We’re so jacked this time of year, (post sugar coma) to get back on “the wagon”(you know, the same one we fell off last year! 😉 I don’t know about the rest of you, but I was primarily trained to make resolutions around weight loss. But there’s so much more to us then just this!

I walked into 2018 with the intention of saying “yes” to every new opportunity that arose, especially the ones that made me uncomfortable. This forced me outside of my comfort zone and crossing paths with some pretty amazing individuals and causes. Upon turning 34, I took on choosing a “word of the year”, which for me, was “TRANSFORMATION”. I started asking where in my life I could transform more and what underlying layers I needed to work through in order for me to do so.

Do you ever throw something out and then get totally side barred by the ways in which it happens? Yeah, that was me. What I had pictured in my head for positive transformation couldn’t have been further from how it actually shook out! So many lessons.

I’m just going to be honest, 2018 was an ass kicker of years. I’ve had a few of them over the past decade, all for different reasons, and this year was another one. I’d be lying if I said I was sad to watch it go. ✌ 2018 taught me that it isn’t about what I think it should be, it simply will be, whatever it needs to be. Fiiine, lets be real, this is an every year lesson, but this year roared really loud, especially in the physical realm. It taught me that without my mental and physical health, life can be debilitating. I spent most of the year attempting to recover from the Epstein Barre Virus,(which is mono that lies dormant in the body, often affecting the liver, spleen and thyroid). When it reactivates, it’s  worse then mono and took months longer to recover from. I lost alot of hair and had to come to terms with not being able to dye it, while learning to only style it certain ways to avoid patches showing. I’m fully aware that in the grand scheme of life, this is petty, really petty actually.  But honestly, a woman’s hair is a big part of them and for me, it’s really big, despite how petty! I had to sleep when I needed too, because I couldn’t function if I didn’t. I had to learn to have patience with myself as I slept most days away. I’m still learning that just because I can do more, doesn’t mean I don’t need recovery time. I had to be OK with the weight gain, because I was too exhausted to do anything else.

I had to learn to calm my mind that many days, seemed impossible to control. It was an entirely different episode of mental warfare then I’d ever experienced prior. This time, was the first time in 11 years, of having to learn to understand what mental illness consisted of, without being medicated or having that option to numb it. Mind you, never have I felt more insane, but I was able to evaluate myself more objectively because of it. I had to learn to have faith in what felt like a painfully slow process. That also meant faith in the healer that was treating me, even if progress wasn’t being made at the speed I wanted it too. I had to learn that if I’m not in a good place, it’s hard for me to support my clients. After all, if your tank is running off of empty, how can you replenish anothers. I’m good for trying to push to bone dry and then spending twice as long trying to recover. I think most are trained to operate this way, especially women.

I learned alot about getting into business and what it takes to maintain. That for as much as it may make sense to go back into the corporate work force full-time, it isn’t for me. Even if that means taking the long way around, it doesn’t speak to my soul.

I was reminded that I’ve always believed in mental health being affordable and that everyone deserves to have it. Which meant me reevaluating my business structure and being committed to the cause more then the money. And in the same breath, being OK with charging for services. They are more then worthy of it and honestly, a necessity in everyone’s life. Everyone needs someone to hold them accountable and guide them through life with an outside perspective, myself included. It’s personal investment and I don’t have to feel bad about others not understanding it. I was also forced to recognize how much of my “why” is still based off of guilt around Josie’s suicide. This is super frustrating to me, because I’ve worked so hard to rid myself of that weight. But I’m reminded of the residue that seems to stick like tephlon! Either way, to be 100% honest, it’s down right annoying that this is still coming up! Perhaps its just a component of suicide I need to accept, or just another layer to recognize and continue to trudge forward, as time will tell. #tobecontinued

As I move into another year, while reflecting on the last, I’ve thought long and hard about a word I want to take into this new year. And I’ve decided, my “word of the year” is going to be TRUST. I want to walk into this year trusting in the process, that everything is exactly as it should be. That I may be better about trusting others without judgement, or putting walls up so quickly, but also questioning my trust in some and where their intentions lie. That I may trust in something larger then myself, even if I can’t see it right away, remembering that nothing happens without reason, and it all serves its purpose.

Now that 2019 is upon us, I urge all of you to find your “word”. Something that will sit at the forefront of your mind. Something you want to personally improve on. Share it with others so they can hold you accountable and remind you what it is you chose to work on, or through over the next 365 days. Be mindful that it may not show up how you expected, but the results will yield better because of it! And please, feel free to share here as well, giving others ideas of words and let us know your intention around your choice.

May 2019 be one of light, love, healing and resilience. May you know more joy then sorrow, feel more love then hate, be more kind then cruel, choose to be the light through the darkness and choose positivity over negativity. Always remember, you are amazing, your life matters, and nothing is permanent.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Please share to help others kick off their 2019 with a positive #wordoftheyear

If you’d like to schedule a free phone consult, please contact me at http://www.crisisaverted.org

 

The Beginning

Jos sr pic hammock

Jos sr pic bench

 

 

 

 

 

She is the face behind the face of the company, Crisis Averted. The real story. The reason it launched and exists. Most companies begin with credentials that include a 4-year bachelors degree with a major and a minor in specific fields of study. I’m often asked if I have a Psychology degree, if I’m a licensed counselor or if I’m paid by the public school systems. The answer is “no” to all. Which usually follows by a puzzled look of what exactly Life Coaching is or what these public speaking engagements could possibly include!

This companies credentials begin with the face in the picture. Her name is Josie. It began with a death by suicide. Then a phone call. The one that changes everything. The one where you realize never again would you be who you once were. It began with the cold hard truth of what that really looks like and how absolutely terrible it is to feel so helpless, not being able to save another human being from the depths of their own hell. Even worse, was not knowing it was anywhere near that bad. It followed with unending guilt, depression and sadness that words can’t describe. The heaviness of her pain was instantaneously transferred to those left behind.

Then, it was being forced to walk the same path she did. One I simply could never understand prior. It was being buried in a pillow that I never wanted to leave. Followed by the bottle. The bottle of booze, the bottle of meds, (never ending medications to “fix” me), a pack of marlboros and even more external toxicity at every corner. After learning how to overcome those, it was learning to feel again without constant numbing. And I am not going to lie when I say that was more painful then any hang over! From there was acceptance. Which, on days like today, can feel light years away. Then there was forgiveness of self. Shit, that one my friends, is the toughest mountain to climb!

11 years ago, I wouldn’t have guessed this is what would’ve stemmed from something so atrocious. There was this silent pull to keep moving, even in the depths of chaos. Blindly putting one foot in front of the other. Stumbling backwards, falling, getting back up. Doors slammed shut, while others opened. This company, this mission, me, as a person – stems from her, her life and even more so, her death and the lessons that followed. They are my credentials, they are more then any text book or shiny degree could offer. Its debt comes with one that no number can justify. It began with the worst outcome imaginable and has turned into what I can only hope, will be the best thing possible. I can’t save her, perhaps she was never ours to save. I can’t go back and redo one single second of it. But I can change it from here on out.

You see, it isn’t about mental illness, it’s about mental health. It isn’t about fixing, it’s about growing. It isn’t about numbing, it’s about feeling. It isn’t about resistance, it’s about acceptance. It isn’t about them, it’s about us. It isn’t about external blame, it’s about internal peace. It’s about learning all of these, and then continually relearning them over and over again. It’s about what we’re here for. The life we want to live, one with passion, purpose and fulfillment. And most of all, it’s about healing.

http://www.crisisaverted.org

You aren’t alone and your story isn’t for nothing.

Jos and I senior pic

Jos & I country fest 06

Your Story

Blog - StoriesNovember 14th, 2007 marks the “9-11” of my world. A date that became a dreaded day in my history book, one that shook me to my core, a depth I didn’t know was possible. This day not only marked the death of my sister, but the death of me as the person I had become thus far in life. As the years have unfolded I’ve realized how many times I’ve died, how many old layers and stories I’ve shed. But as with any death, both physical and metaphorical – comes birth. It’s funny how much we don’t realize or focus on that. With every loss of a person, relationship, home or possession comes new opportunity – assuming we’re willing to see it. We spend so much time looking back at that closed door trying to figure out how we could’ve left it open, that we blind ourselves from seeing the beauty that lies ahead.

There are times I’ve wondered – had she not died, would I have still found my passion? Would I be transitioning out of the corporate world to focus on revolutionizing and bringing awareness to a new paradigm around mental and emotional health? Would I have learned the same valuable lessons personally so I could connect and teach others? Would I have realized that it has little to do with labels and more to do with the underlying components, the ones we’ve all suppressed and forced ourselves to bury and forget? Lets be honest, I’ve always been good at expanding and pushing the limits, but would I have done it in a way that caused more pain and disruption, instead of healing and liberation? Would I have started a blog? One that began with my own story and  shifted into the love of telling others real and raw stories? Ones not only of trauma and heartache, but of love and healing? Perhaps we’re all still going where we were originally headed, but her decision, one that left a ripple – shifted my course to this path. A path that has pushed me to the depths of some very dark valleys, and pushed me even harder up the mountains. I don’t want this to be my only story – her death was the start of my story, and one I hope overflows to many others stories. Your greatest strengths really do lie in your deepest pain. Those are the very wounds that are there for a reason you have yet to discover, the ones that will not only break you down – but to break you open. Those are the turning points in your life that are pushing to you to new depths. It isn’t about allowing this to be your only story, it’s about pushing yourself to a new one. It isn’t about going with the norm, it’s about reinventing the norm. And it isn’t about her death as much as it is the life that can be birthed from it. The realization that in a world that often feels hopeless, there is still plenty of it. And that starts with us – that starts with the death of old stories and the pain we’ve held so tightly too, and allowing ourselves to rise from it. Its about being true to ourselves, instead of attaching ourselves to others. This blog began with telling my own story, but has blossomed into the realization that we all have one to tell. It has made me realize it isn’t things or surface conversations that connect us, its real life pain and emotion that help us realize, we aren’t that different from each other. To realize we all have something to offer, because noone has the same story, with the same perspective and emotion as yours has held.

So I leave you with this – if you had to think of all the stories you had to tell, what one do you want people to know? Will you tell the one people see from the outside just to please their pallet? Or will you tell them the one that sits deep in your soul? Will you show up in the world in the way it wants you too, or will you show up in a way that offers a deeper truth? Are you allowing old stories to play on rerun, numbing what lays beneath the surface? I have many stories to tell over my life, and especially the past 10 years – all bits and pieces of me, but none of which own me. The story I want to tell 10 years later isn’t the same – in fact its message is very different – this time, its one of awareness, hope and liberation. And for that I am grateful. So thank you Josie for the never ending lessons as I navigate through, thank you for the reminder that your death is not for nothing and that all things can be born again if we allow them.

 

Beneath the Surface

Clouds Thailand 2017Have you ever stood in the mirror and wondered who you’re looking back at? Have you ever had moments of wondering how exactly you ended up here? Have you ever had times when a story is told and you can either replay it verbatim in your mind or barely remember being present? Are there times you’ve spent grasping for that moment in time to stand still? Or days you wish you would’ve held tighter too? Have you ever stopped and looked at your life like takes of a movie or book series – watching the chapters or sequels unfold? Have you ever been able to unidentify yourself with an old version of You – unable to connect with that part of your life anymore? Or perhaps find yourself grasping so tightly onto other parts – allowing them to hold more truth then they’re worthy of? Are there parts of your story you want to change, but unsure how? Of the thousands of shattered peices that make up you and your story, are there any you’d trade? Of the jigsaw puzzle what is are missing puzzle peices you’re still looking for? What peices are worn and tattered – ready to be recycled?

Do you look around wondering how it’s possible to raise children in a world so broken? Do you wonder how to support them in an age where media and electronics rule all? Do you wonder if their emotional needs are being met on a level that can best serve them? Are we failing as adults, parents, children and citizen? Even if we were – how would we make it better?

Craving connection on a level deeper then the surface? Feeling like you’re going through the motions of life without being able to stop and smell the roses? Wondering what your “theme” for this lifetime is? Ever wonder if there’s more beyond the everyday routine or what else this life could hold for you? Or better yet – have you taken the time out of the craziness of this life to ask or ponder? Because there is more to this rat race then we realize. There is still room for dreams beyond the ordinary. There is still room for healing, for revolutions beyond the everyday chaos. Do you believe it?

Autopilot

skyraysoflight9-16We’ve all experienced those moments of life altering, earth shattering pain. The one that forces you into your body, to awaken you from a state of cruise control. It comes in many different forms, at different points in our lives, all on a different scale, having a different effect but it is one that refuses to be anything but felt. At 16, it’s the break up with your first boyfriend, perhaps later a divorce. For a firefighter it’s going to a call only to be forced to watch a family watch their home be devoured by flames, to the EMT it’s responding to a fatal accident. To a soldier it’s pulling the trigger for the first time on another life, or perhaps watching one of his own men being taken by another. It’s the phone call of an unexpected death, the diagnosis of a disease, watching another’s life end before your eyes. It’s watching a child go hungry, die from lack of vaccinations or a fatal disease. It’s losing a job, the function of a body part, or the aftermath of a natural disaster. All of which demand the attention of the human emotions, as if jolted into the current reality, one where time literally seems to stop. The cruise control has been halted, from 60 to 0.

It is that slow drip of water in a pond, watching the ripples flow outward, affecting the mass, but the intensity remains within that first initial drop. A whirlwind of grief and questions, standing there looking at your life from a floor of shattered glass, unsure if it’s even your life you’re viewing. This ‘autopilot’ phase is one that jolts many, but often doesn’t truly affect, on a grander scale, those outward ripples. But, for those moments that the ripple does affect the mass, we reevaluate where we stand in life, how very small we are compared to the rest of this vast universe. We think about our days and how they’ve been spent, acknowledging that we’re truly blessed and fortunate to not have been directly effected by such tragedy. Instead, we make promises to rid our lives of excess baggage that doesn’t serve our evolution, and thank God for all he’s generously provided.
Often times, when we stand in this space, we realize how much of our life has been run on autopilot. How much we missed while going through the motions, only to realize it’s no longer an option to fix or mend, but to let flow through you, realizing the grip you have on this moment is nothing at all. The vulnerability of feeling on a deeper level, tears that won’t stop, anger that fuels, questions that may remain unanswered. It’s a space that for anyone that has ever felt it, never wants to be forced to feel it again, it instills a fear that we want to distance ourselves from as fast as possible. It’s one that never leaves, instead, only lies dormant. Only to return at the time of another reminder that autopilot is the exact place we aren’t meant to be. It’s during these times that we’re forced to reevaluate and question our very existence. Watching another endure such pain, knowing there’s no amount of words, cards or gifts that will replace what they have been or will be forced to feel and endure. It is in these moments, we make temporary promises as we mourn and truly do feel for those directly effected. We swear this is our eye opener, that we’ll become more focused on the things that make us truly happy, instead of the stress of daily life we’ve allowed to weigh us down. Instead of complaining, we’ll be more grateful, instead of fighting, we’ll be more compassionate, instead of blaming, we’ll be more empathetic of another’s viewpoint, instead of being devoured by guilt, we’ll let go of those we’ve allowed to pull us down. Because in these moments we see from a very different perspective, we see how precious and short our time here is, whether that’s 20 years or 80, it goes in a flash nonetheless. But just as quickly as it came, it often leaves. Because for those that aren’t directly affected, life goes on, and autopilot is what we so effortlessly fall back into. Getting wrapped up in our everyday lives of seemingly trials and tribulations, forgetting to pay attention, to feel or wake up from this deep sleep. Until the next ripple hits, reminding us once again that we’re human. These are the moments that are meant to break us, shake us and make us realize that this is our focus, this is a glimpse of what we’re here for, this is when autopilot is off, when we’re planted in our own bodies, grounded and reminded our days are far too short to be spent doing absolutely anything except what brings us joy. And the falsehood that we’ve been fed while on autopilot that this isn’t our truth, is the reason we’re forced to be redirected into what is.

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Noise and Static

*Disclaimer: Please read at your own discretion. Preferably with an open mind 😉blog-noiseandstatic

I’ll admit I was less then happy when the only thing that would flawlessly flow from my fingertips was the entry “Rock Bottom”.  Now, I’m starting to see why – because it truly is the case for so many people right now, both locally and abroad. I’m a believer that the night is always darkest just before the dawn and that sometimes thing have to crumble in order to be rebuilt, to see it for the greater good and trust where it’s taking us. But that can be a tough one to hold onto as things seem to be progress. It’s hard not to take a look around and wonder what in the f*ck is happening to this world?!  It’s hard to overcome the fear of what’s next and what does it mean?! I think of it on a smaller scale with things happening around me, but it’s much larger then that and I think we’re all aware of that. Humanity as a whole is facing some shit right meow – shit that can’t be denied – shit that needs to be talked about, released and straight up dealt with!

However, I’m struggling with the way it’s being dealt with. In case we haven’t noticed – this blame game isn’t getting us anywhere. Whether it’s blaming our parents for a horseshit upbringing, another person for abuse inflicted upon us, the poor for our national debt problem, drugs/alcohol/addictive substances, Monsanto for poisioning us with GMO’s, Trump for his hate and discrimination, ISIS for killing thousands of innocent people, my sisters friends mother brother to a cousin for who the hell knows what – it seems to boil down to blame in some form! It comes down to pointing the finger in every direction except our own – and I’m more then guilty of this as I blame my addiction on sugar for the reason I’ve gained so much weight! ha

I’m not by any means trying to undermine what is happening around us, or the lives that have been directly affected by any of the above. This is real shit on every single level – and I’m grateful every day those aren’t my family members or friends that are directly affected by this violence. But, I feel that I need to attempt to try and put a different spin on what is happening. Hands down the most common mistake we all make, I’m just as guilty as anyone, is forgetting to stop and attempt to see things in a different light – from a different vantage point.

I’ve seen multiple posts, but have not, nor have any desire to watch the videos on who is claiming what or which side, I do not have any desire to watch someone gasp for air after he’s been shot, despite the reasoning behind it. I especially don’t have any desire considering there’s a little girl in the back seat, who’s life has been forever changed. So, I’m not going off of facts here and I’m not siding with one over another, I’m simply viewing this from some of the few opinions/responses I actually read. So, here are some questions I have that I’m just going to throw out there.

Question #1

Have you ever drank under age? Have you ever smoked weed? Have you ever done an illegal substance or drug? Have you ever not worn your seat belt? Have you ever driven with any amount of alcohol in your system that could’ve very well been above the legal limit? Have you ever urinated in public? Have you ever rolled through a stop sign?

If you have done any of these, then you too, have broken the law – and I’m willing to bet you’ve done it on more then one occasion. What is the difference between you and someone that has their name put in the paper or face on TV?  They got caught and you didn’t. Period.

Question #2

Have you ever had sex before you were married? Disrespected an elder? Used the Lord’s name in vein? Called another human being a name? Have you ever cheated – in any form, on homework, an exam or your significant other? Have you ever threatened someone’s life or dreamt about it? Despite how big or small – from your parents to your children – no matter how you choose to justify it, have you ever told a lie?

If you have ever done any of these, then you too, have been immoral – at least to the eyes of many, especially according to religious beliefs. What is the difference between you and “them”?

My point here is this (and this is something that I’ve learned within the past year about myself as well) that despite the caliber of bullet, what makes one less deadly then another? The amount that is fired, correct? It takes more rounds of a 22 to do the same damage of a 12 gauge. So, while some have larger weapons, inflicting pain on others in more obvious ways, there are even more people that do it in their daily lives, on a smaller scale. You see, that’s what we do – we all have the ammunition but we fire it differently. Most fire more frequently but because it’s of a less caliber, we can justify it. Why? Because we didn’t get caught, what – because we didn’t kill anyone, or I wasn’t that drunk! It was only 5 mph over the limit. It was just a white lie. I can bring that up because she did this to me in 2nd grade! Oh good, I’ll keep that card in my back pocket for next time he effs up. These are the subconscious things that we think – I know that, because I’ve thought them! I’ll openly admit that! Did I know at the time I thought them, no, probably not, because I self justified it – I felt I was entitled to it – I mean, besides – eff them, they’re crazy anyways, of course my reasoning is right!

Question #3

Have you ever put your life on the line – day in and day out? Have you ever feared walking out the door, never knowing if you’re going to come home to your children? Have you ever had to put on a uniform that made you a target to many? Have you ever had to put on a badge that causes more hate and avoidance, where people openly hate you, calling you a “pig” – taking slurs the same as many different other races do? Do you know what it’s like to love and fear your job all at once – every single day? Do you know what it’s like to be proud to protect your community, but knowing you’re possibly putting your life on the line to protect complete strangers? Do you know what it’s like to have to uphold a certain criteria to do your job, even though you’re fearful of what is happening out there? Have you ever had to show up to a door step to inform parents their child was just killed? Have you ever had to arrest someone and see how that changes their life, good, bad or otherwise? Do you know what it’s like to have to act and react in a split second – never knowing what that reaction may lead too?

I don’t – and I don’t think a majority of you reading do. And that also is unfair to judge! I have never, nor do I ever want too have to make a split second decision to pull the trigger out of fear, only to find out I may not have had the right to do so and cost someone their life. And I don’t care what color of a person that is, that decision is a heavy burden to carry, “right”, “wrong” or otherwise. I also can’t imagine being the spouse or parent of someone in uniform either, especially in these large cities that deal with a large amount of violence, living in fear every single day, wondering if they’re going to walk back through that door to your children. I am however, thankful there are people that are willing to do that for us! I mean one is hated for the color of their skin, another for the uniform they wear?

Question #4

Have you ever slammed on your brakes the minute you realized the car you’re about to approach is a cop, even though you knew you weren’t speeding? Have you ever either felt the need to smile and be especially nice to someone in uniform? Or, feel your blood pressure rise being in the same room, even though you know you aren’t the suspect, but feel as if they’re looking at you with suspicion?

Have you ever crossed paths with someone from a different ethnesicity and hugged your purse tighter? Have you ever seen a black man with their pants down with their ass half hanging out assuming they must be a drug dealer? Have you ever thought because they were wearing a veil or hijab they must be a terrorist? Have you ever encountered someone of another color begging for food or scrounging for change and thought ‘typical, on welfare, I’m pry paying for that’.

If any of these thoughts or reactions pertain to you, then that’s stereotyping and racism. The problem is, noone realizes they even do it because it’s something that’s been engrained in us from a child on, whether at home, school, media, friends etc. So although it’s clearly not something we’re aware of on a conscious level, it’s something a majority of us do! And these are a majority of the comments I see and hear and have heard for a long time! All these one liners we’ve deemed as acceptable to throw out there towards certain groups, from police to another religion to another color, to white trash!

Question #5 –

Have you ever done something stupid, ridiculous or foolish? Can you imagine being put under a microscope for it? Can you imagine that one idiotic move costing you your life, whether dead or behind bars? Imagine if every horseshit decision you ever made was held against you, plastered on every news station and thrown back in your face?

I for one have made plenty of mistakes, I’ve passed on the right side of the road, I’ve drank too much and put the keys in the ignition, I’ve drank under age, I’ve had sex before I was married, I’ve called other people inappropriate names, I’ve done alot of things that I’m far from proud of. I’ve had many of them held over my head and I’ve held many over others as well. There are many of these I’m not proud of, and some I am, because I learned something from them. It didn’t cost me my life, I wasn’t forever shamed and abandoned for them, I’m aware of them and attempting to correct them. So, again – do a small tally of your personal ‘stupidity’ and remember, part of this whole human experience is learning, not hating and bashing and further separating. The definition of perfection depends on the eyes of the one defining it, and it varies by a large scale depending!

WHY do we have to side with one or the other?! I mean really, for all the people complaining about I-35 being backed up because of protests, are you doing anything to help or defuse the situation besides sitting behind a screen complaining about it and blasting your opinion all over? That’s another thing we’re taught well to do – hide behind a screen – our children know this even better then we even do, it’s how they’ve been taught to communicate and fight! I mean, at the end of the day – this is a true and legit problem on so many levels, but I just can’t grasp why people think that by constantly screaming and yelling and posting and name calling (even though we’d tell our kids to not do that) that we’re solving anything?!  And whether or not you feel that this particular family deserved it over the next or because of their horseshit parenting skills they had it coming. Or the fact that because they didn’t have a job they were worthless to ‘us’ anyways, gives you the right to justify it, then I guess do whatever you need too to sleep at night. As for anyone still reading this – allow me to put a slight twist on this a little more. To someone (a child – because remember, we were all children at some point, that never asked for the circumstances that we were put into) that grew up in a home with parents as meth addicts and homeless, the fact that the only drug they do is smoke pot, even if it’s around their children, they feel that they’ve improved their life. For those that grew up in physically abusive homes, watching their parents fight to no end, beating each other or their kids – the fact that those kids came out of that home only having alcohol issues, but never touching their own kids, is an improvement from the environment in which they knew. For those that went through the system, being tossed from home to home growing up, never feeling as if they were truly wanted, accepted or loved, the fact that they can hold a part time job is more stability then they’ve ever known. Do you know what the difference between a majority of us (white folk, privileged folk, wealth folk, the middle class, whatever title you want to give us) is alot of us had someone to help us. We had a support system on SOME level, whether it was family, friends, a teacher, a coach, a minister – they had someone, even if for a brief time. Someone that showed them just a little tiny bit of compassion that sparked their fire. This is something that many of us take for granted and something that not alot of people, even people close to you, truly know. That is a privilege.

In conclusion:

Is racism a problem in this country? Yes

Is police brutality a problem in this country? Yessum

Do we need law enforcement to keep us safe since we can’t all just get over ourselves and get along? Yip

Do we need law enforcement next time we or our loved one is in an accident, injured or has a health emergency? Yup

Is law enforcement often disrespected and also stereotyped? Yippers

Do we need more slander against one or the other? Nope

Do we need to feel as though we have to choose a side in order to feel like someone? As if a FB post is going to save the whole damn world and erase what is actually happening and been happening? Nada

I’m not claiming to have the answers to these many messes, I’m really not. I’ve just been trying to think of a way to not join the debate, but attempt to help put things into perspective again, for people to just take a deep breath and remember something more then black or white, in uniform or out, upper class or poverty – at the end of the day – we’re all something to someone, we’re all human, we all have emotions and most are damaged on account of things you can’t even imagine enduring, standing on both sides of the line. So, maybe instead of non-stop judgement and finger pointing we just set aside the fact that yes, there are people, of every race and profession that can ruin it for the mass, for the most part, they’re doing their best, even if it isn’t your best, according to your standards. I’ll be the first to admit this is can be extremely hard to put into play and remember on a daily basis! But, maybe if we just attempt to become more aware of our actions that we put out there and how much they actually align with what we say and preach, we could baby step our way a little closer to peace and calmness. Maybe if we just attempted to focus on one tiny little thing we all may have in common, instead of pointing out the differences so quickly, we’d have more productive conversation. And maybe if those words do get said, like we all tend to do in the moment, we attempt to make them right where we can, while we can.

I’d just like to leave you with this – the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Maybe, just maybe – we can all put down our weapons, whether gripping a loaded weapon, pounding the keys on a keyboard or pointing a finger – and just try something outside of what we’ve always done, which is fight. That’s what we resort too every single time – we feel like we have to have our guard up, armor on – ready to fight. Maybe trying the opposite, just for shits and giggles, might be of more benefit. Just maybe.

**If this resonates with you, feel free to share on social media**

 

Siblings Tribute – Brynn & Jaime

Blog-tributebrynnnjamie

There isn’t anyone that doesn’t know of someone that has battled a disease at some point in their life. Whether it be cancer, mental illness, eating disorders, cardiovascular disease, Alzheimer’s, alcoholism, or addiction – to some degree, disease is disease. Some have triumphed over their struggles, while others fought the battle until the end, only to lose the war.

Although we lost our siblings to different diseases, we still watched them endure hardships while fighting against something that, in the end, was stronger then them. We, as family, were forced to sit on the sidelines, unable to make their physical, emotional or mental pain cease. From various forms of chemo, radiation or surgical treatments to different anti-anxiety and anti-depressant medications- they were forced to put their mind, body and soul through some excruciating pain just to be able to add another day to the calendar.

While we all know of these people, we don’t really, truly know these people. We’ve all heard of stories pertaining to disease and death, however, it’s rare that we hear or see what happens behind the scenes. The lasting impact it has on both the patient and the family and the roller coaster of emotions that take place along the way. From the fight to the triumphs and back to defeat, from what seems like never ending decision making, just to hope it was the ‘right’ one, just to doubt it and yet be forced to trust it all at once. From the overwhelming support of those around you, only to feel so alone in the crowd of supporters. From the distress on so many levels, only to hope it’s worth every ounce of energy put forth by everyone. From the tears to the triumphs, from overwhelming sadness to finding laughter in the little moments, the heartache to the joys of the smallest things you never noticed before, from the heaviest of guilt weighing on us down to trying to see the bigger picture through the diluted veil. From watching them in pain in every realm, to one day being forced to feel much of that same pain. This is a journey that so many – too many – experience, but one that often times doesn’t get brought up in the rawness in which is truth for many. And I want to bring forth that rawness, that truth and the awareness behind it.

I feel truly honored to be able to share this ‘Siblings Tribute’ with 3 other strong, brave, compassionate and determined souls to bring forth both their siblings stories, as well as their own. Our hope is that this can offer a sense of peace for those who are struggling in any way – to know that you aren’t alone on this journey, whether you’re the one who’s in the ring for another round to fight, or the cheerleader on the sidelines – your story matters! This is Part 1 of a few entries and I am truly so grateful they agreed to do this with me! Although these entries were excruciating to write – I’m excited to share both of their stories, as well as their sisters battle against a disease we’re all well aware and hear far too much about – cancer.

*Disclaimer: a box of tissues is recommended – you’ve been warned 😉

Jaime collage 2

“Sisters from the start, friends forever from the heart.”

You and your sister (names, background, ages)- who were you both pre-diagnosis?

My name is Brynn Ashley Soderlind. I was 31 when my sister Jaime Teresa Gartner was diagnosed with breast cancer on October 14, 2011. Jaime was only 32 years old. I was 8 months pregnant with my first child as I sat in the waiting room of the doctors office. My three year old nephew, Jaime’s son Jameson, sat on my lap on a blue upholstered bench. He was such a patient child. He held my hand and we sat there mostly in silence. It seemed like years. We waited and waited and waited. Finally, three hours later, Jaime came down the dark grey hallway. Her dark brown long hair framed her beautiful face like a picture. I remember her brief eye contact with me and then her eyes quickly fixed on her son. Tears were pouring down her face as she opened her arms to meet his little body. He fell into her with relief. She looked to me and smiled as she wiped her tears quickly from her cheeks and shook her head “no”. I knew right then that the massive lump in my sisters breast wasn’t a cyst or an enlarged lymph node. My throat felt tight as I swallowed hard. My sister had cancer.

We grew up with a strong sense of self. We lived out in the country on a hobby farm with our loving parents and grandparents, some goats, chickens, pigs, dogs, rabbits and a blind cow. We had great company each day with our siblings- Ericka, Ian and Seth- and the neighborhood kids our mom babysat. We loved to hike on the land and explore the 132 acre woods that we lived on and absorb all that nature provided to us. Jaime and I loved to take our Red Ryder BB guns out and shoot targets that Ian would set up for us. Life was easy. Life was so good. We loved to go to Whitewater State Park and as teens we would spend most of our summer hiking and swimming. We also loved to travel and took several road trips together and with friends. We did almost everything together. Where there was Jaime, there was likely Brynn.

We would end up moving to Colorado together in 1999. We loved the mountains. We loved the experience but eventually we ended up back in Minnesota together.

Almost a year before her cancer diagnosis, Jaime and I were in Esthetician school together. Jaime and Jameson lived with my husband Adam and I in our condo. Jaime and I had a long history of sames. We had the same jobs, wore the same clothes, loved the same foods, had the same friends, lived in the same cities, read the same books, listened to the same music. Her and I shared a bedroom, secrets, underwear, makeup, cars, lunch money, dreams, aspirations, germs but mostly, we shared genetics. I was encouraged to have genetic testing done shortly after my 33 year old sister had a bilateral mastectomy. I knew that if my sister had breast cancer at 32 years old, I had a pretty good chance of getting it too. When I got the genetic counseling and testing, my daughter was a baby and still breastfeeding. I remember the fear surrounding a positive genetic mutation. What if I too shared the BRCA2 mutation? I knew for me, it would mean a mastectomy and possibly a hysterectomy. That meant no more children. I was ok with that as long as I had an upper hand on controlling the disease.

I had a strong feeling that I didn’t have the mutation. I soon learned that Jaime had the same feeling. Sure enough, I tested negative for the BRCA2 mutation. I cried so hard when I heard the positive news; half of me was relieved and half of me felt guilty. I know it may seem strange, but it was like we had always shared everything and now we didn’t. And I was happy and devastated all at the same time. You see that’s the tricky part about disease and being a caretaker to someone you love so much. The cancer may have taken over my sister’s body, but it also consumed me, differently, but still the same. It completely changed everything.

I thought about cancer all day long. I thought about ways to help heal. I threw myself into research and tried to educate myself as best as I could. I attended every appointment. I quit my job to care for her full time. Her cancer became my cancer. Her life sort of became my responsibility. I’d lie awake at night running through all of the “to do’s” Did she take all of her meds? Did she eat enough? Were all of her appointments scheduled? Did we write down all of our questions? I learned as much as I could about her tumors on my own time. When they told her that her tumors were ERPR positive, HER2 negative, I researched. When they told her that she needed  radioactive Theraspheres implanted into her liver, I researched. When they said there was nothing left to try, I researched. I always wanted to find a way to save my sister’s life. I wanted her dream of becoming a grandmother to come to fruition. I wanted to see her pain-free and dancing in the woods at night like we used to do when we were young. I wanted to travel again, hike, shop, sing, learn to knit and play guitar with her. She always wanted us to take knitting classes and guitar classes together, but I guess we never made the time. I wish we would have figured out how to make it work. Especially guitar lessons. We both loved singing and music so much. I imagine how therapeutic it would have been to be able to play guitar and sing together during her 4.5 year fight against cancer. We both had our own guitar and knitting needles, but never learned. Now, I am ready to take guitar lessons. I will learn to knit this winter. The thing I’ve learned is that life doesn’t wait for us. We have to take advantage of the time we have- right now- today. If there is something you want to learn or experience, go for it. Set goals! Chase dreams! Jaime’s goal was to make it to Mother’s Day. My goal is to make sure that women aren’t dismissed when they find a lump in their breast, at any age. Jaime was dismissed by 3 different doctors before the fourth ordered a mammogram. 3 different doctors! None of them thought she had cancer because she was young and because they told her cancer didn’t hurt, so her lump must have been a cyst or something. It will take me a lifetime to get over the dismissal she received from those individuals. If a 31 year old woman complains of discomfort and has a sizable lump, it should be taken seriously. Mammograms save lives. Every lump should be examined thoroughly.

What battles (disease, metastasis, how many times in remission/relapse) did she endure and for how long? Explain what impact this had on you personally and how it changed both of your lives/perspectives, good and bad.

Jaime possessed a natural ability to find the positive in situations. She never complained about her circumstances. Not one time. She never had a pity party. I’m sure on her own time alone she often struggled, but she never divulged any of those feelings. She made light of the adverse reaction she had to steroids during her radiation treatments. She would joke about how the development of Cushing’s Syndrome was the worst part of the entire cancer experience because she had a 100 pound weight gain which was painful and left her almost unrecognizable. Her skin began to split in areas from the rapid weight gain. Her body ached all over.  They learned that the steroids they were giving her for pain control caused her adrenal glands to fail and shut down. Jaime didn’t mind loosing her hair. She liked hats. She knew she could manage the mastectomy with future reconstruction surgery and prosthetics. But Jaime did not know how to be ok with the Cushing’s Syndrome and her physical immobility and intense pain. In my opinion, the most challenging piece through her cancer journey the rapid weight gain and pain that accompanied it like an orchestra.

Jaime was diagnosed in October of 2011. She started chemotherapy quickly. Her lump was so invasive and so aggressive that they feared removing it without hitting her with a cycle of chemotherapy prior to surgery. Jaime had 7 rounds of chemotherapy between October 2011 -April 2012. On May 11, 2012, Jaime underwent a bilateral mastectomy and sentinel lymph node dissection. They inserted tissue expanders inside the chest wall to reconstruct her breasts with implants. The expanders were placed behind the muscle of the chest wall. The idea was to slowly stretch the skin by filling the expanders with air overtime to accommodate an implant.

We moved into her apartment in May after her mastectomy to care for her and Jameson. She couldn’t be alone and certainly couldn’t care for her three year old son by herself. I spent my days with Jaime, Jameson and my 7 month old daughter Poppy. I took her to appointments, cared for her and the children and did all of the normal day to day tasks and errands. I had so much help from Adam at night and on the weekends.  Following her discharge from her mastectomy, Jaime’s pain continued. She had so much pain. She was so weak and tired. Her surgery sites began to show signs of infection. I called the clinic with great concern. I was reassured several times that what I was describing was “normal healing”.  When her pain became unbearable, I brought her into the ER at a different hospital. She was quickly admitted after examination. She went into surgery the next day to  have the tissue expanders removed because she was septic. I felt so angry and so frustrated. I felt like I let her down. I had called several times with concern. I was always told that it was normal. Now she had a major setback in her recovery.

After that surgery to remove the expanders, Jaime never really felt good again. Ever. It was like the infection had gotten into the core of her being. She was so unsure. Her days and nights consisted of doctors appointments and pain management. After that surgery she went six months without seeing a doctor. She moved to Waseca and rented a house. She and Jameson lived right next door to our mom and stepdad. She just never felt good. Mom and Dad expressed concern about the lack of medical care and lack of follow up. Jaime was in a deep dark depression. She seemed to feel like they did everything they could do for her and this was what she would endure. We felt that she should be closely followed with scans and check ups. Nothing was scheduled. She had no desire to go to the doctor. Then in November of 2012, Jaime came to visit us in New Hope. She was in so much pain in her hips and low back that she could hardly walk. The pain was constant and ibuprofen wasn’t even coming close to touching it. Adam encouraged her to go to the ER. After some persuasion, she agreed. The ER dr in Plymouth MN listened to her history and decided that a pain injection of Tordol  to her hip would suffice and he sent her home. No scans were ordered. Her blood work showed elevated white cells and all of her numbers were either a bit high or low in almost every category. They knew she had cancer earlier that year. Why wouldn’t they have investigated her complaints and concerns more thoroughly? She was a 33 year old single mother with a history of breast cancer. I will never understand the lack of care. Fast forward a month later, she has similar complaints of low back pain and hip pain. Adam takes her into the ER again, and she gets the exact same diagnosis and treatment. They say it’s likely menses pain and they encourage a hot bath and ibuprofen. That was in December 2012. A moth later, on January 21, 2013, she fell in the bathroom in the middle of the night while visiting us in Duluth at our new temporary home. Jaime managed to crawl into the living room where she was able to wake us with screams like I have never heard before. After helping her up, Adam got her into our SUV and drove to the ER at St Lukes. At 3am on January 22, Adam texted me that he and Jaime were meeting with a neurosurgeon and likely she needed spinal surgery to fix her broken lumbar. He also mentioned that they were quite confused how she managed to break her lumbar by falling in the bathroom since the lumbar is the strongest part of the spine. After laying flat for 4 days in a body brace, the biopsies revealed that Jaimes entire skeleton had been infiltrated with breast cancer. I remember the look on her face when they told her that her breast cancer was a stage 4 and terminal. She looked relieved. She looked frightened. She looked so young and so lovely. I was engulfed with sickness and anger. Terminal breast cancer?!! How did this happen?

After she broke her back, she realized that St Lukes hospital in Duluth Minnesota was where she was meant to be. She began her care and treatments of weeks of radiation, many surgeries, continuous chemotherapy, injections in her neck and back and pain management. The nurses and doctors were incredible at St Lukes. She felt cared for and loved and validated. Her pain was finally explained! She could finally trust medical staff. She became so close to her oncologist, Dr. Based Goueli and her nurse Terri. They gave her the greatest care and love. She trusted them. I trusted them. We were able to navigate through all of the bad news together and even in her final days, she felt comfort and trust when she talked to Dr Goueli or Terri specifically.

During her battle, she also had to have a hysterectomy. Pathology of her ovaries detected breast cancer. From there, Jaime’s cancer spread into to the liver. Her care team kept up on her treatments of chemotherapy and she was able to fight for another year and a half. Jaime ended up passing away on a beautiful sunny Thursday morning in the arms of me and our older sister and our parents. Jaime had been in hospice care at St. Luke’s hospital for less than a week. Jaime died from liver failure caused by metastatic breast cancer to bones and liver. She had so much trouble breathing in her final hours. I remember feeling like she was drowning and I couldn’t pull her up or give her air. She fought until the last breath. April 14, 2016 was the hardest day of my existence. I lost a big part of myself when she passed. She had been unable to communicate the last day, but moments before she died, she opened her eyes and made brief eye contact with me and began to cry. She quickly shifted her eyes to our sister Ericka as tears fell down her face. Her eyes fixed towards my parents with her last breath.

I remember my mom placed her delicate hand on Jaime’s sweet face as she gently ran her palm down over her eyes to assist them to close. I remember the sound of my dad pulling a bandaid off of Jaime’s arm and throwing it across the room as he wept. I continue to replay these moments over and over- just like the the day she was diagnosed. The connections. The similarities. The tears. The beauty and the tragedy of it all. The brief eye contact that cut like a knife, the tears that poured from our eyes like wine, and the fear and yet the calming sense of peace that embodied all of it.

What did this consist of for you personally – to recall being a cheerleader on the sidelines, observing, but being unable to save them? (Ultimately the trauma of being the survivor).

I am forever grateful that I was able to care for my sister during her fight with cancer. I was able to support her and fight right along side her. I made sure she knew that she wasn’t alone. It’s been a month since she passed. The sorrow and pain really does come in waves. Everyday I wonder if there was anything more or anything else I could have done to help her have more time. I guess there will always be a part of me that will lament over the possibilities of treatments and cures. She ultimately decided that she would fight until the very end and she did. She fought so hard. Now I sit with my sword down and my shield up. I am still at war but all of the enemies are gone. I am less now. I am forever less without her here beside me. I will never understand why my sister had to fight so hard and ultimately die fighting breast cancer.

How has this changed you and your life course? 

Jaimes diagnosis absolutely changed me. I changed because I had to. I quit my job to care for her, we cancelled a move across the country to care for her, and I directed my focus and energy towards her health and healing.

Jaime and I were somewhat different from one another. Physically we were basically opposite. Our personalities, although different, meshed as we complemented each other well. We understood each others sense of humor. We had so many common threads and so much interest in one another. We had our own language and the ability to read one another with little effort. Sometimes we even felt one another’s pain or discomfort when apart. Jaime was 20 months older than me. We were only a grade apart in school. She always joked that I was the “big sister” and she was the “little sister”. I was taller, so that was ok with me. I will remember Jaime as an intelligent, loving, generous, carefree, slightly unpredictable, esthetically well maintained, stylish woman. She always had a big beautiful bright smile and she was always late for everything.

Since her passing, I have had a strong pull towards becoming more carefree and less concerned about details that don’t matter. I’m trying to learn to live in the moments that we are given each day.

I am contemplating my next steps and trying to discover what is best for me and what is next for me now that she is gone.

Do you feel you’re meant to do something differently with your life because of her death? And if so, what is your hope/goal? How do you want her to live on?

Jaime left me with three quotes:

“Be a rainbow in the cloud”  

“Something will grow from all you are going through, and it will be you.”  

 “Don’t worry, No one likes a know-it-all”

I am doing a lot of soul searching and digging deep to find my balance and my purpose in life. I believe that Jaime’s spirit will help to guide me down the best path.

I do feel that I have great compassion and empathy and love and concern for others. Jaime has always encouraged me to become a nurse… but she also wanted me to pursue an acting career and become a professional photographer so I’m a bit confused about her impression of my actual talents or calling. I guess I may be confused as well? I feel like I need to find a vessel that allows me to help advocate for people struggling to find the medical care that they need and deserve. I don’t want one more woman with a lump in her breast to have to go to four doctors just to get a mammogram. I want to bring awareness to breast cancer affecting young women. Breast cancer isn’t only killing post-menopausal women. Breast cancer doesn’t discriminate. Men, women, young and old are all candidates for breast cancer. Screening is key! Early detection saves lives. Genetic counseling helps us to make informed preventative decisions  about our health. Who knows, maybe my sister would still be here today if the first doctor who saw Jaime would have ordered a simple mammogram.

Jaime will live on in the masterpiece she created. Her strong loving intelligent boy Jameson carries her beauty, strength and perseverance. He has her personality and her heart of gold. Jameson is the greatest legacy and a beautiful reminder that my sister still remains.

**If this resonated with you, feel free to share on Social Media to not only raise awareness, but bring hope to any that may be struggling**

Dreaming Another Nightmare

blog - reality

Isn’t it funny how when you’re younger, your future plays out in a certain format? Your dreams follow this ‘ideal’ timeline of pure perfection! Life was going to be damn near perfect in every manner, there really wasn’t much I hadn’t dreamed up in my fantasy world – except that part where the train derails and I end up in bumfuck Egypt in the middle of my own shit storm that I really thought couldn’t get worse, but oh wait – IT JUST DID!
Let’s just rewind to the fairytale for a minute. Back to the dream land of getting a collage degree in Education, followed by being married by the age of 23, 1st child no later then the age of 25 (I didn’t want to be an old parent!) Then 2, maybe 3 more kids every 2-3 years to follow, I wanted them spaced just perfectly in age! I would have a nanny so my kids didn’t have to go to a daycare with other bratty kids! They’d be in a private elementary school in a larger community when they were younger so they learned diversity and the importance of it, but by middle school, we’d transfer to a smaller school system, so they could learn and appreciate the importance of a smaller community, I wanted to know the parents of my kids’ friends, and them to know everyone they graduated with,  like I was fortunate to have growing up. I’d be happily married for years, we’d travel a lot and my kids would have a lot of great experiences and memories, hopefully building the basis of their future by being curious of the huge world out there! We’d eventually move to the country overlooking the mountains to retire and enjoy the peace and quiet. Uh, life was going to be so great – god I couldn’t wait!

And then – one day – I woke up to a very different reality – back in Egypt. I was standing in the middle of a very different dream, more like nightmare, not knowing exactly how I managed to end up there!

Instead it went something along the lines of being 18, having a blast partying and working, going to the local college that I knew in my gut wasn’t going to pan out, but I played along with the role and ‘tried’ it. By trying it I mean I passed 2 of the 4 classes the 1st semester, the only 2 I was interested in to begin with, which was English and Psych. Instead I focused more on how damn good it felt to be living on my own, with 4 other good friends of mine, hanging with my new, good looking and older boyfriend, being free of rules, demands and chores and just plain loving life! This older boyfriend was eight and a half years older, which, at 18, is a big deal! Age is just a number on many levels, but at certain times in our lives, age does matter (I know mom – finally I got it! Better late then never 😉 ) I was with someone who was in a relationship, although I understood it at that time that it had ended (by ended, I believe he had moved out a few days prior), and I was also recently out of a relationship, for about a week (yeah – I know – total saints  – for sure). So, even though I more then knew better, he seemed very interested and I wanted it to be what I knew it wasn’t – but I still really wanted it to be what he made it appear to be!

As if age alone wasn’t a factor, the fact that he worked for my dad and was very close to him, was an obstacle in itself. But, rebellion was still running thick in my blood – so I ran with it, secretly hesitant, but outwardly, I’m sure I appeared cocky. I will never forget sitting in my parents kitchen, explaining to my less then impressed, quite frankly – my pissed off mother, that it was going to be just fine! The only thing I remember out of that entire ass chewing was her saying ‘you are nothing but a rebound to him and he is nothing but an infatuation to you.” Ouch. That stung. That stung alot – but what stung even more was when I had to call her bawling at 5 a.m. four months later – after my friend and I showed up at his exes house, banging on the door at midnight wondering why he was with her and didn’t have the balls to come to the door! (I’ve had prouder moments – yes).

I remember that sick heavy brick that festered in the pit of my gut for weeks after that night. I remember the replays, waiting for the next phone call, the begging, more lies, more apologies and finally, after making him ‘prove’ himself – me giving in. The ‘proving himself’ part consisted of him having to go explain himself to my mom, since she was the one that had to deal with 5 a.m. phone calls after months of seeing it for face value, I figured he could start there (not thinking he actually would!) This was the beginning of many more years worth of anger, manipulation, game playing and drama that I learned to play along with. Giving into something I knew wasn’t true, but again, I wanted it to be. Besides, he had spent years with her, of course he was going to go back, he still loved her on some level, how couldn’t he, maybe if I were thinner, older, more stable, more wise it wouldn’t have happened. Note for this next time around I guess, right? Welcome to my thought process!

I think more then my hate for him was the hate for myself, the way I held out for so long, just to give back in at the last minute. The hate for believing it, wanting it to be different then it what it was, but not knowing what that meant. Hating myself for not being what he wanted, for feeling the need to compete against other women, the bottle – anything. Hating myself for giving into the drama and nonsense, thinking every other ‘next time’ was going to be different then the previous last times. Hating myself for allowing the lies to flow so easily, for getting bogged down by it all, to the point of no longer caring, for giving into it, when I fought so hard not too, for so long. Hating myself for seeing it before it happened and yet waiting – almost wanting in some sick way – for it to happen again so I had a reason to bail again. I became reliant on the next fuck up, it kept us both fueled with anger, hate and drama – just to need some sick reason to make it all ‘better’ again – for a little bit anyways. And when it really came down to it, what I hated more then him – was myself – that I gave up me for him – that I changed my life, goals, dreams, morals and beliefs to fit something that was never in alignment with me to begin with. I hated myself for giving into the fear every time – the fear that he’d change for the next one and that I may miss being truly happy with him, fear that my daughter might not have the chance of knowing her parents to have a good, stable and loving relationship, fear that I might be alone forever, and that maybe I should be thankful he’s with me at all. That I thought I could change or ‘fix’ him – when it wasn’t about that – it was about 2 people that became miserable together on account of their own insecurities that were never resolved, caught in this vicious cycle that became routine, one that subconsciously we both thrived on. It was about 2 people that simply didn’t belong together, that again, tried to force pieces of the puzzle to fit, that were never meant to fit. It wasn’t about ‘training’ him ‘my’ way, with ‘better’ morals or expectations of him wanting the same family life I did, it wasn’t about ‘owning’ him or forcing him into things that quite obviously he wasn’t interested in, as his actions always showed it. He did fight for me on many levels, perhaps more then he had in previous relationships and perhaps in some ways- we could’ve been more – but not at that point in our lives. It had become so toxic, so full of mind games, when one was ready to party, the other didn’t want to leave the house, when one wanted to be saving money for a house, the other couldn’t blow it fast enough, when one was ready for marriage, the other wouldn’t even utter the word. We were rarely on the same page and when we were, it felt like we were on top of the world, that one week you would’ve sworn lasted 2 years without a single fight! ha Those short intervals were what I began to cling too, because that’s all I had – and they became fewer and farther between. And when push comes to shove – timing is always everything. After Josie, any speck of interest I had left, any excitement about moving forward in our lives, anything to do with him at all – was lost on every level within 24 hours after she died. As if the animosity wasn’t already there before – it intensified after that – he was to blame on every level for anything and everything I never did or didn’t do with her. And that was the beginning of the grand finale to follow – the one that trumped all other trumps. But then again, I guess that’s what happens when you choose to live in a fantasy world, talking each other, and ultimately yourselves into truths that weren’t ours.