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Grief isn’t logical. Yesterday was three months since my dad passed, yesterday was also Good Friday. My uncle died, 5? years ago, on Good Friday. Jesus died on Good Friday and came back to life. I’ve been teaching my class about this great miracle all week, repeating the words Jesus loved us so much that he died for us but then God brought him back. He spent time with his friends and then went to heaven.

There’s this voice in the back of my head that says it’s not fair. Why can’t my Dad come back so I can hug him one more time, tell him I love him one more time. Why can’t my uncle come back so we can say all the things that we’re left unsaid.

As I said grief is illogical. I know these thoughts are silly and don’t make sense. I know that comparing the situations is dumb but your brain does it’s thing in and in my grief I just want that moment more with the people I love and miss so much.

I thought I understood grief after loosing all my grandparents, even after loosing my uncle with unfinished business but I knew nothing. My dad and I have nothing left unfinished except that he’s my dad and I wasn’t and am not ready for him to leave me yet. There are things he supposed to be here for, little moments like silly conversations and big moments, life moments.

Grief is illogical and it sucks!


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“Light up your face with gladness

Hide every trace of sadness

Although a tear may be ever so near

That’s the time you must keep on trying

Smile, what’s the use of crying?”

WHY? Why do we tell ourselves this? Why can’t we just embrace and feel the sorrow instead of putting on a happy face? I don’t understand it.

I teach my students to understand and identify their emotions, that it’s ok to feel what they feel and yet as adults we have to put on a smile and only ‘feel’ (i.e. Show) happiness. You must answer the question “how are you” with GOOD or great. I’m ok isn’t enough and God forbid you’re “fine”. It’s bull&@$t!

We were given all the feelings, we’re allowed to feel them, to process them, and maybe we’d be able to do the later better if we weren’t always forced to pretend.

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Why do people have to be so hateful?  If you spend any time on social media these days is mostly someone b$%#@ing about what someone else does or doesn’t believe.  If you’re a Christian than you are a mean nasty person who believes that everyone who doesn’t live the way you do is going to hell.  Then there’s the whole right wing /left wing christen thing where they all seem to think the other side is going to hell.

Supposedly to all Christians non-Christians are evil, wrong, and damned.  Of course to all non-Christians Christians are hypocritical sh@#s who don’t care about anything but convincing them that they must change and be like them.

I watch all this crap.  I watch as friends (Christian, Pagan, agnostic alike) all have moments when the bash on someone else’s beliefs and just want to shout “Can’t we be friends”.  I hate it when I read something a friend writes in attack of a stereotypical Christian belief, a belief that isn’t actually all that accurate, a belief that I don’t actually know a single Christian who actually believes that way.  I feel the same frustration when I see other beliefs attacked, when I see post about how Wicca is devil worship or other Evils that are perceived of Pagan faiths.  Evil believed of any religion or faith that is not founded in fact frustrates me.  So often if you do a modicum of research (I don’t mean searching Meme’s or Wikipedia but actual research) you find that much of what the world is fighting over is bunk, it’s misunderstood, misinterpreted beliefs.  It’s the junk that the minority of people spews as fact but is actually made up garbage to insight fighting for God knows what reason.

I wish we as a people could just find a way to go out into the world in love and caring, instead of judgment and hate.  I am a Christian and there are times when I want to run from that word because of what it has come to represent for so many.  Instead of representing a loving caring God and people it seems to represent so much hate and anger.

I try so hard to live my life by two simple rules, “loving God” and “loving people”.  I’m not perfect (so so far from it) and I fail sometimes (ok a lot)  but the reality is in my mind the latter is what the world needs most.  It needs people who will just show love and kindness to one another regardless of our differences or similarities.

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Yesterday a friend in a group on Facebook posted about a video that was posted by a Comedian named Nicole Arbour entitled Dear Fat People. I was saddened by the fact that this persons attempt to be funny had hurt someone I cared about but thought nothing more of it. Throughout the day I saw the same reply post shared by many of my friends. A reply that was well thought out, honest, and mostly kind to those of us who fight with our bodies and body image as larger people. At this time I also came across Ms. Arbour’s video and my only thought was “Wow, what a Bitch” and “She really doesn’t get it!”

Fast forward to today when another friend shared yet another video in rebuttal to the original, shaming Nicole as well as Fat people. Where the original video had little effect on me, this one did. It left me in a huddle mess sobbing and feeling like a useless bundle of fat. As anyone who knows me knows I have battled with my weight my entire life, I have always hatted my weight but rarely hated myself because of it. I hate that a stranger talking to an anonymous audience had this effect on me.

All this emotion has led to this posting, one I need to express how I feel so that it doesn’t fester and grow into something else, and two I want to say that appearance has nothing to do with who you are inside. I hate that we live in a society that puts so much emphasis on how we like. Telling girls, and guys, that if you aren’t a specific size, if you don’t have a six pack…if if if … then you aren’t worth anything. This is BULL SHIT!!! A person’s worth has nothing to do with outward appearance and everything to do with the kind of person they are. So please remember that whether you are a size 0 or a size 20. You are important in this world and what you do, who you are, and how you treat people is more important than anything else!

Now to work on getting myself to remember and believe these words. Do as I say not as I do…for now.

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The following started as an e-mail explaining ‘Always Keep Fighting’ to someone I love and in reviewing it I realized that it’s a good explanation to all who’ve asked the question of me as well.  So as a step in helping to remove some of my own fear of the stigma surrounding my own mental health issues and to educate those in my life here goes.  Some of me open to the world…be kind!

I’m writing this in hopes of helping you understand the ‘Always Keep Fighting’ stuff and why it’s so important to me. First, I know that many of my friends and family don’t understand my enjoyment and fascination with the show Supernatural and that’s ok but my interest in “Always Keep Fighting” has nothing to do with my interest in Supernatural. AKF just happens to have been started by one of the stars of the show and was therefore put in my purview. I do find it interesting that my resurgence of interest in the show and entrance into Fandom happened just as the campaign started, I wouldn’t have known about it otherwise. But again, the two have nothing to do with each other, other than SPN bringing AKF to light for me.

So what is ‘Always Keep Fighting’ really about? It’s about bringing awareness, and acceptance to the reality of mental health issues, removing the stigma that makes people hide in the corner and not seek help. It’s also become about creating a support network for people who live each day with these battles. Where the campaign started to raise awareness and funding for charity it has turned into a support group and a family of sorts.

As for why it’s important to me… all my life I’ve been told that I was depressed, or manic, or whatever and all my life I’ve fought the people who’ve told me that for so many reasons that I can’t really explain anymore. Long about the time that this campaign began I began to realize that Yes, I do have some issues. At this time I also started to do some true soul searching as to who I am. I am, at my worst, an anxiety ridden mess who can see the worst in any situation. An introvert, who’s shy and extremely unsure of herself, and who has severe social anxiety just to round out the ‘I don’t like people” (not literally) trifecta. Meeting others in this crazy fandom and through the Always Keep Fighting campaign, the AKF Family as it’s lovingly referred, has helped me to accept my own issues and realize that I need to fight through them. It’s also helped me to realize that I am far from alone in these struggles.  And for me that’s not only fighting with the anxiety and mild depression that comes with the Meniere’s, but the Meniere’s itself, and all my other quirks. I’m worth fighting for! When I was little my Dad would strive to comfort my self-hatred by telling me that ‘God don’t make Junk’ and this ‘thing’, this support network, this family had helped me to start believing those words for myself.  They’re there when I’m scared, sad, or panicing necessarily  and unnecessarily.  They help me to remember that I am not alone, I am enough, and to always keep fighting.

If you’re part of my family or my friends and you really don’t understand it that’s fine but please don’t poke fun and please try to accept the AKF idea, because for me as it’s something that is helping me to accept myself, faults and all.  I would also encourage you to ask me more about it, this ‘campaign’ has quickly become and important and formative part of who I am and my work to become a better and more confident version of me.

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My Uncle Steve has been on my mind a lot lately. I often think about him around Easter since he died on Good Friday and before that the last time I had seen him was the Easter before. Usually it’s a passing thought, a moment of sadness, and I move on. Ever since his death I have taken a moment on Easter Sunday to stand in my churches chapel and remember our last conversation. As he marveled at the beauty of the music that morning (our choir is rather good) and we talked about how beautiful the stained glass window at the back of the chapel is. Maybe I’m having trouble letting go because I didn’t have that moment.

I’ve written about him before, sharing wonderful memories, sharing them keeps them at the surface. Maybe writing down the bad will make those ones finally be at rest.

I am usually rather good at focusing on the good memories of him. The trips out on his boat as a girl. My silly stuffed koala that created a love of koalas, a toy that I still have and cherish 32 years later. Walking down through the quad at the U with all the cherry trees blossoming overhead. Talking about my plans. Him trying so hard to distract both of us from my Grandfathers heart surgery. Hearing stories convincing the band director to let him first wife Sally into the band even though she didn’t play an instrument, or some such silliness. Working out the details for a short story with him about a Chameleon named Cami. These are the memories and more that I try to focus on but the bad ones keep seeping in lately.
The missed holidays cause he was drunk. The arrests, the time in jail for more DUI’s then I can count. All the trappings of an Alcoholic who’s fifth of vodka a day was more important than his family. I was in my 20’s when he crashed off the pillar I had placed him on. See until that time he was tied as my second favorite guy in the world with my Grandpa Hap, my Dad being top of that list. When I found out that he was a drunk, and all that went with that, that changed in a moment. A moment that was never repaired.

I remember picking him up for my Dad’s ordination and he was lightly drunk maybe just hungover, but he came. I have the same memory to go with my Nephew’s baptism. I look back on the day of Eion’s baptism and want to beg my sister for forgiveness. I made her come with me to pick him up because I couldn’t face him, his possible (probable) drunkenness on my own not after the last time.

See a year earlier I was supposed to stay with him for a week. I was so excited to get to spend some time with my Uncle, to get to know him as an adult, I hadn’t spent much time with him since I was a teenager. I arrived and he was wasted. He was unintelligible, nonsensical, drunk of his ass. I felt like he had done it because he didn’t really want me there. I left, I ran from his boat sobbing. I forgave him for that moment but he never forgave himself. Unfortunately because he couldn’t move on our relationship was never fixed. He avoided me, which added to my fear of him not wanting me there. At family functions there were many times he would greet or say goodbye to everyone but me.

There is so much I regret in our relationship, I wish that I had tried harder but I was at a loss to make it better. He’s been gone for five years. He knew it was going to happen, the doctors warned him and yet his booze was more important that his life. I know that’s not fair but in this moment, in a moment where I’m having trouble seeing the light for the darkness it’s how I feel.

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Missing My Sister

I’ve been thinking about my big sister a lot lately. Why you ask? Because I miss her. I miss our marathon conversations where we would spend hours on the phone talking about nothing and everything. Our conversations are always fun and a bit strange. My mom once watched as I chatted with Jess with the oddest expression on her face. When I hung up I asked her unceremoniously ‘what?’ to which her basic reply was that she just marveled at our relationship and the laughter as we chatted.

You see until about 15 years ago Jess and I fought more than we got along. We had our moments, some of my favorite childhood memories are of just hanging out with my sister when no one else was around. The basic feeling of only I can pick on you that I got when her friends would tease me and in the same breath she would admonish them and tell me to grow up.

Why I was 18 I left home for the first time for longer than a couple weeks at Girl Scout camp. Following in Jess’s foot steps I joined Covenant Players and embarked on an all new adventure. I spent a lot of time on the phone with Jess during my first 4 1/2 month tour. I talked to my folks too but Jess knew what I was experiencing. When I went back for my second tour and summer training so did Jess. Somewhere in there a friendship was forged.

Over the past 15 years she has become my best friend. She’s who I call when I just want to talk about the Sims (a shared guilty pleasure), the latest episode of a TV show we both love, or about a new show she ‘just has to see’. She’s who I call when things are going right and when things are going wrong. No one can break me out of a funk like her, she seems to know just the right thing to say, usually an inappropriate joke, to make me laugh and make it all ok.

I miss these talks because it’s hard to time a conversation with someone who is half a world away. See a year and a half ago Jess’s husband got stationed to Misawa Air Force base in Japan. Now when she’s awake it’s seems I’m either asleep or at work. I miss talking to her, hearing about, as opposed to reading on Facebook, the things my niece and nephew are doing. They’re growing so fast, it’s amazing and I miss them almost as much as their Mommy.

I would love to go and visit them but that is costly proposition. I am a nanny who adores my job and can’t imagine doing anything else but it’s not like there’s a whole lot of extra to pay the $2000 round trip price of a trip to visit my oh so missed family on the other side of the world.

My sister has set up GoFundMe help cover the cost. Where I will be saving every extra penny between now and April I know that I will never raise the amount, any help would be greatly appreciated!

Go Fund Me: http://www.gofundme.com/cty4cw


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