Coral’s Healing Room at Coralsblog.com 505-269-9242 iwritetohealmyself@gmail.com I rise early. I go to bed early. If you need me, I will make myself available to you.

I cut this puppets strings and I set this circus down. And so it is.

Happy Sunday everyone. I hope you have a beautiful day planned today. I have a beautiful day planned with my girl and I am so happy to be spending today with her!

I realize that I have been vague and ambiguous as to what exactly is going on in my life for the last month. I really just don’t have words and the words I have had…well they have not been kind, and so as much as possible, I have held on to them. I have been in the most excruciating emotional pain of my entire life and I am done feeling this way. Tamara hit her breaking point last night and I woke to hit mine this morning. These girls are done and fucking done with the pain and drama that has infiltrated our lives…with the non-transparency and the lies and the manipulation and the fucking piles upon piles of bullshit…done and fucking done, we are with this rhetoric. I have cried enough tears in the last month to nearly drown myself. I allow the river I have cried since my mom got sick, to flush my heart of what does not belong to me. I allow the tears to wash it all away…wash it all away…wash it all away. And so it is.

I have learned that I come from the Cherokee Indians. I am 1/16 Cherokee Indian. These shall be the roots that grow deep into the earth to ground and center me. I shall begin to know my people and their ways…their traditions and their customs. Of all that I have come to know that I am, I choose to hold onto this. My mom mentioned this throughout my life…this small part of her lineage, that she seemed to care nothing much about, other than to see if it would qualify me for financial assistance for college. I on the other hand, didn’t give a fuck about college, and have always been far more interested in this piece of myself. Who am I and where did I come from? This information was given to me by my cousin last week and this is all I know of who I am, in lineage. So, if you know anything about me and who I am, I would love to hear from you. If you have a piece of this part of our lineage, I would love for you to share it with me, in a photo…in a story…in a handwritten letter…I would love to have a piece of that part of me. Truly, for me, I am going to take this piece of myself and I am going to let the rest go. I am choosing who I am and I am shedding who I am not. I begin with learning all I can about the People I come from, and their ways and traditions. This piece of myself has always called out to me and I call back now…I am ready. I am here. Please come for me and tell me from where I came. And so it is.

As I came down here to write this morning, stumbling on the wreckage of my past…Bruised and battered and all banged up. Shamed and embarrassed by shit that isn’t even mine…bleeding out for those who have gone on ahead of me and for those who left me behind…flailing and crashing about in all of this fucking rubble…I barely made it safely to the door of our healing space. I am fucking done. Truly, done and fucking done. I have come to let you know that if you are unhealthy for me, I have come to let you go. I will not exert any energy, any longer on anyone who does not love me honestly, openly and like a verb. I will not spend one more moment attempting to save The drowning, until I hone my own swimming skills first. Even then, I shall throw out a life preserver and I shall not be attached to whether you grab hold or not, for you are drowning and only you can save you from that. Only I can save me from this. I have finally come to know that this battle is with myself. I will not spend one more second hating myself. I have been in the very worst space and the very worst pain of my entire life for the past three years and forty days and I am fucking done. I am done and fucking done, dangling by the thread whose puppet master knows no bounds, no mercy and no compassion. Today, I cut this puppets strings and I set this circus down. For this is not my circus and these are not my clowns. As I look around me, I begin to laugh with abandon, at the clowns 🤡 all around me 🤡 look at the silly little 🤡 clowns!!!!! As I untangle myself from these strings and I realize I am finally free, I run with the clowns 🤡 to the gate that has held me! This circus 🎪…these 🤡 clowns….they are not even mine!!! Entangled in their stories and suffocated in their dysfunction no longer…this is not my circus and I am free to go!!!! Not my circus and not my clowns…not my circus and not my clowns…not my circus and not my clowns….and so I set this circus down. And so it is.

Thank you Tamara, for carrying me through the literal hell of the past three years and 40 days and 40 nights. The anguish and the pain…the primal cries and the destruction in our own lives, as a result, all behind us now. Thank you for carrying me when I could not even breathe and for breathing your breath into me when I could not find my own. Thank you for breaking last night, so that I could break this morning, so that we can be done with what is not ours. Thank you for the hell you have endured to see me through my own. Thank you for being my girl and my whole world. I love you to the moon and back, to infinity and beyond, forever and always, my beautiful, dear, and amazing girl! Thank you for seeing me thorough this. We are done and fucking done with that which is not ours. And so it is.

To every single one of you who has held me though this storm, with all of my heart, I love you and I thank you. For every single prayer…for every bit of love…thank you. I love you right back.

For those tossed about by the turbulence of the forces that moved in us when we came together, I pray for your peace and for your return to stillness now. For those whom I chased after being dismissed, I cut the cord that binds us and set us both free to our own dharma now. To the circus and all of the clowns, my deepest thanks for hosting me. It has been quite a fucking doozie up in here, and I thank you for your hospitality and for your lessons, turning into blessings every single day. To anyone I have hurt and to everyone I have harmed, I offer my sincerest and most heartfelt apology to you now. I know I have been the clown in many circuses myself and so I acknowledge the disruption and I set the circus down. And so it is.

I hope you have a beautiful Sunday! As I untangle from the final string, held only by my own pause, I am off to love and live my life today! I love you!

You are writing your own story. Make it a good one!

Good morning beautiful people! Happy Friday and what a day to make a different choice, wouldn’t you agree?

I went to bed with my body blessed by angels once again and I am so, so thankful! I went to bed next to the most amazing and beautiful girl in the world…my truest and dearest friend and my best confidant…my soulmate and my lover…the co-founder of a dream that we are building together…my anchor and my rock…and I am blessed beyond measure! I had a day full of the most beautiful and grateful clients, who pay me well and love me well and I am open and ready for some more clients like that please! I had a beautiful morning working with my colleagues, for the healing of one of our very own, and I am blessed beyond measure to be amongst such prestigious colleagues, who know and trust my work, to have me place my hands and my energy upon their best friends. I will always value and invite time like this, to give back to those who refer and share me with you, so that I can help you too and pay my bills. To everyone who loves me like a verb…thank you, and I am an open invitation for some more love like that please! My little brother and my sister checked in on me, as we have been most recently doing for one another and I will definitely have some more of that please! I had weekly tea with my very best friend, Sigrid, and I will always welcome more time and love and space and honesty and friendship, like a verb, like that, in my life! Coral and Sigrid tea time is nourishment and fuel for my soul on this journey and I am blessed! To all of these endeavors, I drove in the FJ Cruiser that I love and cherish so much, as Jesus takes the wheel, and my musical medicine blasts through the speakers, of the piece of my mom and dad that I have left, and I am thankful! I feel my beautiful and radiant cousin, Regina, in and around all of the good and positive and wonderful memories of my past and with me always on this journey and I love you so much cousin! Always, in all ways, I have room for love like Regina…thank you and more…yes please! I arrived home safe and sound at our Sanctuary in the woods, surrounded by all of my best friends…for they love me from wherever they are, to wherever I am, always and without fail or prejudice, and I am home! My health is good and getting better every day, in every way. “Every day, in every way, I am getting better and better.” And I am so thankful for my life and for those who share this journey with me. Every day begins and ends in gratitude. Every day I am better than I was yesterday. And so it is.

This is the version of how my day ended and began that I am choosing to share and to focus on. These are the parts of my day that I am pulling out to give thanks for. These moments are my focus henceforth. These are the people I choose to rejoice in and to be grateful for, as are they for me, life’s breath. Everyone and everything else, that does not serve my highest good, I release! I stand in love and for, love in all things. I believe in love and I believe in each of us. I believe, with all of my heart in the good things coming! Thank you, my brother, Nahko, for your love.

Love is an action word and I challenge each of to truly grasp this and to know this and to live this! Love in action will open up your life!! Love in words…well, we all know what that empty and often loveless love feels like, don’t we? Where there is void, to be love in action and you will fill the void. Love in action is not always easy, as it is an action, not an empty mouth full of empty promises and lies. Action, being in action and of service…very different from choosing the “right” words, wouldn’t you agree?

We all make a choice every time we open, or do not open our mouths. I am choosing to keep my mouth closed in situations where I have nothing kind to say. In this silence, I pray for peace for those whom I choose not to open my mouth to anymore. I choose to whom I speak and to whose calls I heed. I choose whose words I shall open myself up to. I give myself permission to leave when I am done. I give myself permission to choose the clients whom I can help and to charge accordingly for my time and my services. I ask the universe to bless us all that we be synced together for our highest goods. I pray that we all feel the value of the relationship we walk into together. I pray that we each be served and valued for our life’s work and our contributions accordingly. And so it is.

Have a beautiful Friday everyone! You are writing your own story today. What will you write? Let’s write a with all of our hearts, shall we?

A jumbled confession for us all…

When the knock at your door finally comes, the knock that you have been praying for, as long as you can remember; will you open the door?

My knock came and I opened the door. A moment of surrender. Asking for help. Seeking to understand. Clarity in an abyss. Calm in a storm. A fucking Tsunami in the middle of meditation. Prison inside a prison. Bars between us. I Caged you in because I could not get out. I pushed you back until I was able to come forward. I did to you, the only thing I knew to do…I mimicked what was done to me. I silenced you. I controlled you so that I could steady myself. I am sorry. I held you down so that, on a wing and a prayer, I might ever be able to stand up again at all. Thank you. I came first. I mattered so much less always that I was dying of thirst to matter most of all. I surrender. I am blessed to matter. My unquenchable thirst left you parched. I offer you my glass. My needs left you…just you, standing there meeting them, without even having the benefit of me. I see that now. I see you now. Your submission in love of me allowed me to come out of submission myself. Thank you. Your being open allows me to be open too. Your strength, my inspiration. The time you did behind bars for me saved me from a death sentence. Thank you. Your love did and does set me free. I want to be just like you, in my own peculiar way-Thank you SOJA. My hopes are mostly expectations. My dreams are mostly someone else’s dreams. My sense of self is in need of some mending. My pain in enormous and I’m setting it down. My mistakes are countless and I’m forgiving them. Much of who I am is, in actuality, it someone else playing through me, a program that does not serve me. I close and end this program now so that I can bring you my own version of me forty. I forgive. I grieve. I let go. I begin anew. I medicate and meditate as rituals to heal and feed my soul. I stand corrected and I stand down where it does not serve for me to stand up. I surrender. My lifelong prayer of healing…how it needs to occur for me…what it feels and looks and is like…that prayer was answered in a moment this morning. I am so, so thankful. Thank you. My burning question, answered…let go. Fear not. Be well. Accept grace. Admit fault. Begin again. My prayer…heard…answered…and now my work is finished and now my work begins. I fake it until I make it sometimes. Sometimes I make it first. Sometimes the struggle is real. Sometimes there feels to be absolutely nothing at all. In this dark stillness, I began to find myself. The bars come down and we are all free. We are free to be, without limits who we are. As we adjust, shower love and grace abundantly around us. Thank you. As I peel away your way, to find my own…please grant me safe passage. Thank you. As I hit the floor on my knees in all of this reality, please keep me down there until I get it this time, until I really fucking get it. Please gently and lovingly hold me accountable. Please call me out lovingly and with kindness so that I may hear you and be called into my own action, and not the one I’m programmed too. Please let me offer all that I ask for my highest good, for your highest good also. Let me let go. Please remind me not to pick up that which is not mine to carry. Let it lie. Practice the pause. Wait to be asked for help. Wherever I go, go with all of my heart. Practice what I preach. Learn what I teach. Love myself enough to let the hate I have for myself be gone for good this time, for real. Let myself be loved. Accept that I am forgiven. Forgive myself. Be love. Forgive. Accept you on your terms. Stop preventing you from being you so that I can be me. Act in accordance with love always and in all ways. Get back up. Wipe my tears. Forgive myself for not knowing what I don’t know before I knew it. Let it go. Begin again. Don’t try so hard. Don’t try at all. Just be. Love. Be love. Be loved. Have a good day. I love you.

Please reflect and pray with me…

Good morning everyone! Happy New Year’s Eve! This day used to be a huge drinking day for me. Everyday was a pretty huge drinking day for me, come to think of it. Anyway…I was fucked up five years ago on this day. Thankful for another shitty year behind me…praying for a better next year…yada, yada, yada…and shots for everyone! I don’t even do shots…unless someone pours or buys me one! Okay though!!! That’s how I spent the first 41 years of my life. Mindless. Careless. Numb. Fucked up. Miserable. Hostage. Stuck. Sad. Drunk. Fighting. Fucking. Arguing. Drinking. Drinking. Drinking. So on this, the eve of a brand new year, I thank God for the friend of Bills he sent to me on that day, on my way to happy hour…a friend needing a friend to go to an AA meeting with her. Sure I could go to an AA meeting on my way to happy hour! I know my friend is going through a hard time and hey, I heard they have free cookies and coffee and I should eat before I hit the bar anyway, right?

I never made it to the bar that evening. I never made it to the bar again. My name is Coral and I am an alcoholic. Thank you Tamara for inviting me to that meeting five years ago. I will be five on January 2nd, 2019. “There but for the grace of God go I.” This morning’s reading on the last day of the year was so powerful for me that I wanted to share it with you also. Thank you Bill.

I am so glad you are here! I really am. Blogging every day, no matter what, has been so good for me. I am going to blog every day for another year. I have heard from so, so many of you who come here. I know my blog has helped you too. To be able to go somewhere every single day, and to know that someone else will be there too…I guess that has helped a lot of you and I am so happy to hear this! You being here every day helps me too. Especially on my most difficult days…you being in the healing room with me…well it helps me so much. Thank you.

As I spend today in prayer and meditation and in loving time and space with my girl, I think of each of you. I want you to know that. As we walk each other home, I place your hand in mine. I place my arm around your shoulder, and I pull you close to me. I whisper in your ear to remind you that I’ve got you. I am because you are. Ubuntu. We are all here to love each other home. We live in community with people starving and dying in our streets. Hooray for me and fuck you, as Tamara says..when we have an attitude of ingratitude.

I am on a hellbent mission to love us home and I will not stop until I’m done. I may not be your typical preacher and I may not speak to you at all. I may though, speak to you. Will you please pray with me? For the year behind us and for the year ahead…for this very moment, let us pray.

My soul brother Rumi, we come to you thankful this morning. We are thankful for the last 365 days…the 525,600 minutes of the year behind us. We ask for your love and guidance for the 52 weeks and 8,760 hours ahead of us. Most of all though brother, we ask you to help us to live in this moment. Just this one…right here and right now. The past is behind us. The future is not promised to us. The present truly is right here and right now. In this fucked up crazy world, where everyone and everything is our business…gently remind us that everything is not our business. We know right from wrong. Lord help us to do what we know in our hearts to be right and just. If we cannot find it within us to stand up…God give us the courage to stand down. If we cannot help them Lord, please stop us from harming them. Please hold our tongues in pause before we cut those we love the most. Please God remind us that we are all the same. Not one of us will be whole until each of us is whole…please let us understand this. Our brothers and our sisters, different from us and yet so very much the same..please let us recognize ourselves in one another. There are no beings less than any other beings. There are people. There are sentient beings. We are all the same. Please remove the slurs and the labels and the judgement from our lips. God please remind us that we’ve two ears and two hands…two eyes and but one mouth. Let us shut our mouths if we’ve nothing nice to say. Let our silence be our gift. Let our words always be kind. Let us love. As we learn who we have been, Rumi, guide us to forgive. Ourselves and those who’ve harmed us…let us show your grace and mercy…let us feel your grace and mercy. Let us know that God is in us…that we are God…that God is us. Let us no longer be separate. Let us love. Father forgive us where we have fallen short. Lift us up. As we come into a new year, we ask with all of our hearts, that you teach us how to love. Open us to your messages. Protect us from the harm that knows know bounds as we stand up in silent solidarity for and with one another. Teach us to stand in silence and in peace, until our voices are warranted. When our voices are warranted, God let us remember to ask if it passes through all three gates; Is it true?Is it necessary? Is it kind? If it does not pass through these gates, let us keep our lips closed until it is. Let us stand up for ourselves and for one another. We learned it wrong and we ask you to help us right it. We misunderstood and we ask you to forgive us. We ask you to bring forth the leaders who are here to love us home. And so it is. Amen.

Thank you for praying with me. Have a beautiful day and please be safe. I love you. Don’t drink and drive. Hey…better yet, don’t drink at all. Be present. Be sober. Be real. Five years later and thankful as hell, I highly recommend setting that bottle down completely my friends.

The morning after my shift in consciousness…

Good morning everyone! I hope you had a wonderful Christmas yesterday. I woke up in pretty rough shape and I really had to search my soul to rise above it. I meditated and medicated and prayed. I cried and I broke down. I wailed and broke inside. I went inside to get ready to go out into the world and be of service and I got a text from my Dad, for Christmas. A text. In the shower, I thought, I will call my Daddy when I get out of the shower and wish him a Merry Christmas. I came out of the shower spiritually lifted and powered up a bit and yet still struggling. I picked up my phone and I saw the text. I started to unwind. Tears started to fill my eyes again. My chest got tight and I wanted to crawl back into bed. Hearing nothing from my Dad on December 3rd, because the text he wrote never sent, we agreed to call and not text on important days. His idea and I concurred…no more texting, especially on the really hard and important days. And I sit here hurting and not feeling that I can write about it…reading it might hurt him so I must not write it at all. I’ll just carry it. Guess what? I am done fucking carrying it. The hurt I’m feeling…the loss I’m suffering…the one who I miss more than my dead Mom…it’s my Dad. I fucking miss my Dad. The man I write about…the man I can no longer reach…that’s my Dad. The text I got on Christmas, that said says Merry Christmas and you hope I have a decent day…that text was from my dads phone…on Christmas, and I almost shattered completely. I refuse to dwell here any longer. This mother fucking pain is too much and it’s not mine. I’ve plenty of my own. I love my Dad and I begrudge him nothing. His absence is noticed and has been for quite a while now. From October through the holidays, since my mom got sick and died, I have struggled. I walked through the initial struggle of losing my mom with my dad and I left my life and my partner to do so. I regret nothing. I only know better now than to ever put anyone above my partner, even my dying mom and my horribly grieving father. My family business is no ones business and so I regress. Corals blog though…this is mine and I write to heal myself. I come here to heal me and to sort my life out. I do my best to be respectful and to exercise decorum. I write, with love, my truth…the only truth I have, to help to heal us all. I write to get out what has been held captive inside me. As soon as it’s written, I say a prayer of thanks for the lessons and I allow them to become blessings for us all. I package them up neatly and I return them to the universe for the greater good of us all. And so it is. This blog though…Corals blog…this is mine. I write what I want and how I feel. I write my story and my experience here. You may not edit me or silence me or tell me who I am here.

I grew up with so much expectation on me to be a certain way and to do things in a certain way. I tried very hard to meet those expectations. I will not do that anymore. I don’t meet expectations. I will treat you how I would like to be treated. When you take advantage of that, I’ve no choice other than to take myself out of harms way.

My time is valuable. I am valuable. My wants and needs are important. How I feel is important. What I think is important. When I say “No.”…I would like to remind you that no is a complete sentence. I need not expound upon it or repeat it, nor justify or explain it, to anyone. I am taking me back. I am not living under anyone’s shroud anymore. If you have time with me and you don’t honor it, that is okay…it just won’t be freely offered again. Other people who need my time and value me and my time will be graced with my presence and my time.

Christmas was beautiful yesterday. Tamara and I fell apart in the kitchen together. We miss our moms so much. We held each other up and we had coffee together. We cooked together and we got ready and left together, to begin our new Christmas Day tradition together. We had a choice to stay in our pain or to go out and be of service and we chose the latter. We were blessed ten-fold and loved and hugged and nourished. We gave and we received. We loved and we were so loved, by so many. Many of our dearest friends joined us and we made many new and dear friends yesterday…new memories and beautiful conversations. Thank you sister for having us! We love you!

As I sit here this morning, my heart is full. We each make time for what is important. For what is not important, we make excuses. We all make money for what is important. For other things, less important perhaps, we make excuses. I’m going to be real honest here…that’s the way I see it and that is the way I try to live my life. If you don’t have the time to spend with me, just say so. No hard feelings and you don’t need to check me off of your list. You really do not need to do that. Just don’t put me on your list in the first place of you aren’t going to show up. Easy enough, right? I’m not talking about emergencies and broken hearts, being rendered catatonic in debilitating grief…of course I don’t want you to put me before you, ever. Here’s the thing though…don’t tell me you will be there or that you will do something when you’ve no fucking intention of doing so. You know who you are and you know what I mean. Just fucking stop already. I don’t have time for it and I won’t make time for it any longer. Awesome! Glad I got that off of my chest. Who needs shit like this in their lives? Truly…who knows exactly who and what I speak of? It’s the same fucking people all of the time…I call them arm chair volunteers…look at me on social media, offering to be of service, and never fucking showing up…look at me saying I’ve got you when I have absolutely no intention of getting you…look at me being your friend while I stab you in the fucking back…look at me inviting you to say I did and not giving one shit whether you come or not…look at me only contacting you when I need something from you…enough already please. Truly, I am hellbent to be here for you…every single one of you, whenever you need me and however I can. I simply ask that people with no intention of being where they say they will be and with no means of doing what they say they will do to step aside and let people step forward in authenticity. Fair enough?

My circle…my inner circle has shifted dramatically. I’m keeping it small and I’m keeping it real. I’ve no desire for anything less than all of you…your authentic you. I desperately struggle with not taking things personally. I know I fall short. I am a work in progress, just like you. I will never ask you to be perfect. I am asking you to be real.

Yesterday, the real people showed up and it was beautiful. One of our sisters was stricken with grief and pain unimaginable for most of us, and so we held her with us in our hearts all day. We hold her there still as she learns a new way of life. So do we all, struggle in the learning of our ever-changing, ever-shifting and ever-evolving lives. I hope you each heart center this morning as I learn a new way of life myself. Have a beautiful day everyone! Thank you for the color you bring into my world. I love you! I really, really do, love you. I hope you know that.

The letting go has taken place…

Good morning everyone! Happy Sunday! I was up early this morning. I was anxious to wake and get through the morning hell of missing my mom. Walking down to the studio, she was shining down on  me in the moon and the stars. I know she knows my pain. I feel her feel me in this indescribable loneliness, as I stumble down the driveway this morning. I truly cannot find words to articulate the raging and ripping and tearing and splitting in my soul as things once sacred to me fall away from me.

Have you ever loved someone so much that you just wanted to be in their presence? Even making excuses to stop by, just to sit and stay a spell, in a place that feels familar to you? Coffee…water…nothing…just them. Just being there with them. After my Mom died, my Dad became that to me. I needed to occupy that space with him to soften the blow of her abrupt absence. His abrupt absence on top of that sent me into a place from which I’ve not returned. I went somewhere when he left. I go further there, the more distant he becomes. I feel my lifeforce falter as every step between us seems to tear at me, rip at me and own me for a few moments. No one can tell me not to feel this, although they do. In their well-meaning words, they try to bring me some comfort and some solace from this excruciating pain. I have come to accept that there is no reprieve. Hope crushing and soul shattering is the reality that I cannot make you love me. It’s me. You love me. I just cannot fucking feel it much anymore. You love me in your way. Your way is so different now than it has always been. I think you loved me through Mom and when she died, you stopped being able to reach me. I kept trying and you were already gone. Now, you tell me so I won’t find out through the grapevine, things that stop my fucking heart…,things that we once told each other. I don’t know why you don’t want me to know that something is wrong with your heart. A specialist…a trip to the ER for chest pain…and you toss it in at the end of the conversation, like it’s nothing. I do not understand. I called to say I love you yesterday, because I do love you so much. You didn’t call me to tell me that you had been in the ER the morning before, thinking you were having a heart attack. My brother doesn’t tell me he’s been in danger either and I don’t know why it hurts me. We used to be in touch and we used to see one another before we left town and let each other know when we were sick or leaving the country. We don’t do any of that anymore. My pelvic injections and my trauma and my pain…I shared mine with you, even though mom isn’t here to tell me how to do that anymore. I am here every single fucking day if you are wondering about me. I am an open book in a library full of books that you aren’t reading anymore. God damn it! Do you know how that fucking hurts me? It really doesn’t matter anyway, does it? I mean, we just learned that we don’t have to do anything we don’t want to anymore. When mom died, so did all of the rules that governed us into being a “family”. Three years and this year is no different…there is nothing fucking left. “Hey Dad, what are you doing for Thanksgiving? We are going to Carlsbad to be with her family.” Right on. I mean, I just didn’t know that we were done here, being a family ourselves. I cannot not know what I have come to know in these past three years…my family is gone. I have spoken of it and my soul cries in inconsolable pain knowing its truth…You don’t want to hang out with me anymore and mom isn’t here to make you. You have a new life and I am just too much, too little and too painful to fucking look at. I am akward and inappropriate and I say “fuck” too much. I’m offensive and overbearing and a fucking embarrassment to you, aren’t I? All of these years, your quest to keep me silent and appropriate and tucked away and now I am free too. I am not going to be silent. I am not going to edit myself. I am not going to do what I am supposed to do either anymore.

I have sat here every day of my life loving you so much. I have wanted so badly to be someone that you approve of and who makes you proud. I have tried and failed enough times to disappoint any parent or sibling. I have gone astray. I have never left and yet I’ve never really been here. I am not your version of me. I am not your idea of me. I am not callous to your nothingness. I am not less than you. I am not more than you.

I decided to do Christmas early this year for my family. I have decided not to buy any gifts. Instead this year, to each and every one of you, I gift you a free pass. This pass grants you exit from this fucking circus. Upon your exit, your pass will be invalidated and your access to all of the shows and events will be denied. This pass sets you free of any expectation I have had of you, just because you’re my family. This is a onetime pass and once it is handed over, you will no longer have any obligation to me. This pass will be the only pass you get, so use it wisely, as this is the only pass you get. Your pass, the greatest gift I’ve left to offer you, let’s you let me go. No more illusions or facades. No more masks and tolerating the time and language…the offensiveness and the stupidity of me. You are free. With all of my love, I gift you the only thing I have left. I gift any hope and all of my expectations of you. Three years of being excluded by nearly every single one of you has given me plenty to think about. All of the weddings and family reunions and funerals I attended because that’s what family does…every single Thanksgiving and Christmas for my entire life with my family…until my Mom fucking died. Unbeknownst to me then was the fact that everything else in my family died and is gone from my sight also.

Today, as the sun prepares to rise, I raise my face from the pool of tears in my cupped hands and I pray.

Dear God,

Thank you for this life. Thank you for those who brought me here. Thank you for the years I got to spend with the family I loved and cherished so much.

God, I come to you today to ask you to help me to let it all go. All of my hopes, especially the ones disguised as expectations, I release them now. All of my delusions of grandeur about how my life was and who we have all been to each other…I release it all now. God, I grant anyone and everyone who does not want to be in my life, safe access out of my life, no questions asked and no strings. I accept that I am your child and I am here to do your work: I set the circus down to free my hands to do your work.

God, please forgive me my many sins and transgressions. Please make me new and whole…complete and real in your eyes. Please take from me that which no longer serves me and my highest good. Please tell my mom that I love her and ask her to help me through this letting go of the things she insisted I hold on to. Please God, enlighten my ignorance and open my heart to only love. Please remove my fear and any doubts. Please use me to your service and to the service of others.

Please God, as I turn to go, bless my family always in all ways. Keep my Daddy and my little brother close to you and please keep them safe. Please forgive our family for their illness and for the pain they have inflicted upon so, so many.

Please allow me to trust your will and to accept it as my own. With all of my love, I release all that no longer serves me. With all of my thanks I close my prayer this morning God and thank you for hearing me. And so it is.

Have a beautiful day everyone. I love you.

What my CPTDS is to me…Why the doggie in the room?

Good morning everyone! Lucky day for us all to learn something, as I’m in a PTSD spin and can’t get out. For me…for Tamara..for you…for the unknowing passerby…I am going to attempt to blog from this space this morning to help you to understand me and those with this diagnosis.

⚠️

This is a hard fucking write and I imagine it will be a hard read also. Take what you need and leave the rest. I love you. Have a beautiful day!

The C is for complex. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Agent Orange. Vietnam. Desert Storm. 911. All PTSD. Multiple tours in Iraq…EMS and Fire responders…Sexual abuse and incest survivors. You. Me. We have been so egregiously harmed. We have so egregiously harmed. The complex in my PTSD diagnosis is because of the repetitive and unrelenting nature…the family dynamics…I am a triple diagnosed C-PTSD incest survivor.  Did not ever get a break from the abuse, like coming home from a war. I had to stay at war to survive. I still have not come out of fight or flight. I am still at mother fucking war. Every PTSD attack is like the same fucking war. Rest and digest…ya…never…not even now…because the war is in full on battle. Choosing to leave this battleground does not come without its costs. This war waged upon me at one time is now a fucking battle that is only in my mind and only with myself. You witness this in my attacks. The dog in the room and it’s over for me. Why? You don’t want to know. You ask and you won’t be able not to know. You ask again. And again. Why are you as you are with your dogs? Why do you want them near you and push them away when they come to you? Why don’t you love them the way I love my dogs? Why? Why would you surrender Nicholas? Why do you even have dogs? Why is your service dog, Taos, not with you? Why? Why do you put your dogs in crates? Why are you as you are with your dogs Coral?

I am as I am with my dogs, the dearest creatures to my very soul and existence, because as long as I can remember, I have been taught to treat animals as less than human beings. Dogs have no place inside our house. They are animals and we are people. People live inside and animals live outside. Dogs are a nuisance and they are nasty and they don’t belong. I was younger and I didn’t know then what I have come to know. I was one of them. I was in belief of the things I witnessed and was taught. Some of those beliefs hang on tighter than others as I struggle to shake them away. I was forced to intoxicate dogs. I was then forced to jump on the trampoline with them, intoxicated myself. I remember the vodka or gin I was made to pour in the water bowl. I remember my soul dying and tears welling up in my throat. Threatened with my own life if I cried or showed emotion, I began to laugh loudly, to cover and muffle the tears in my throat so that they not dare show through my eyes. “Make sure he drinks it all. You drink yours and I’ll get you another. Put that soccer ball away. You aren’t good enough to make the team anyway, and wouldn’t you rather be doing this than practicing all of the time anyway? If you were good enough, like the girl you love so fucking much, you wouldn’t have to practice all the fucking time, would you? Now get that dog and get your ass on that trampoline. Now. Coral. NOW, and I don’t want to see you crying like a baby. God damnit. Do I have to put him up there? Jump! Coral. Fucking jump. You start jumping or I’m coming up there. Do you hear me?” And the world went black and I jumped. And she yelled and I jumped. My soul died and surrendered and I jumped some more. I jumped and I jumped. I saw his face hit the springs. I saw him struggle and his eyes beg me to stop. I heard his cries as they echoed the cries of being my very soul, as I finally collapsed and fell to the springs myself. I don’t remember his name. He may have been a her. I don’t think he made it because I do not ever remember seeing him again. My soul shrieks now, recounting and sharing this with you. I could lose all of my clients over this. I can never tell.

Why do I freak out at the dog in the room you ask? I go somewhere else. I see and hear and think and feel and know another time and another place. Distant and yet so close, and all at the same time. Out of body. Only my soul with that dog in the room…the dog that I do not even deserve to look at for one fucking minute. Why Coral would you put your dogs in crates? I can either put them in there or me in there to keep us all sane while I try to dodge the land mines of my past, to reach the other side, safely for us all. “Coral, why don’t you love Taos? Baby Taos is the best dog ever.” First of all…Baby Taos is the best dog ever and I love Baby Taos with my very soul. You see, Baby Taos is Sam. Sam got treated how Momma Coral sometimes treats Baby Taos…with contempt and erupting anger for seemingly no reason at all. Baby Taos is Baby Coral and so sometimes we can’t be together as much as we would like to. You may not get it and that is okay because Baby Taos does get it and she loves me just the Sam.

A long time ago and just moments ago, the doggie in the kennel in the corner of the room didn’t trigger me at all and I was so happy to go and bring her out to be with me. The kisses she bestows on me and the tears she licks away. With her or without her, she is with me every day. My soul screams for her and my spirit will not rest. Not until I try my hardest and can say that I have truly done my best. Because I’ve no idea what the corner brings and no idea how I may react, we sometimes keep our dogs in kennels, to keep us all intact. Tamara didn’t come from here and she’s the one who asks the most…when will you be better so we can all become close? You’ve no idea how I pray for it or to what lengths I will go. You see the little doggie on the trampoline, she took me with her soul. I cry for her and I miss him and I cannot even recall a name. A boy or a girl I cannot remember, my soul knows him the same. He was white with a black spot or two…maybe his name was Jack? I will never know for sure, but I cannot give him his life back. So the doggie in the kennel and Taos deprived of momma Coral kisses…prayers for every second and any love that she misses. For Taos is momma Coral in a different time and space. Sometimes when I get lost, I only see another doggies face. A doggie I sent to Heaven long before his time. I was forced to choose his life or me and I chose mine. I do not have regrets as it got me here to tell you this. But God damnit I would give my life if I could only give him one more kiss. The doggie in the kennel and Coral in a little heap upon the floor. I will fight this battle I am fighting until it’s not a battle anymore. For the love of baby Taos and any feelings I have hurt. For Aliah and Rocky and Momma Tamara…all I can say is I hope I am worth…all the trouble I have caused and the hell that I am in. With your love I’m coming out and I beg you not to push me back in. So the doggies in the kennels that you may not understand is the hope for my beginning and my means to an end. To end a war that I have been fighting for every moment of my life…please God if it’s your will, may I sometime have my life? A life not built on torture and trauma of the worst kind. A life abundant and content…a life that I can call mine. With baby Taos and baby Prajna in tow at all times, with Rocky and Aliah and the bears following behind. I see Ali aging and I’ve wanted so much time. You’ve no idea how that kills me and how hard that I try.

Anyway…I am headed to clients, if I still have any after this. Either they will call and book me for an extra appointment because I am only able to do my work so well because of all of this…or I am about to get fired Apprentice style. Either way, I speak my truth to heal us all, as we hold hands and walk each other home. I love you. Have a beautiful day as we take what we need from this and send the rest back to the universe for the greater good of us all. And so it is.

Tell your mom the truth…

Good morning everyone! I got down to the Healing Room early this morning. Sitting in front of the pellet stove next to Prajna and I realize how content I am in these moments.

I feel my load lighten and my path widen a bit. I feel my depths become deeper as the shallow fades into rear view. I am not in the depths of despair this morning and I am grateful. The shallows of expectations not met and dreams shattered seem less significant now as I begin swimming. We are not wading anymore. We are not resting and hiding in life preservers. The leap that I just took into the life I have always imagined takes my breath away as I gently sail down to the water.

Make no mistake, I am here to gather my tribe. Diving to my depths, they await me. I invite you to dive down with me and I give you notice that I won’t be treading in shallow waters anymore and calling that swimming. I won’t be lying in the gutter and call that resting. I won’t be merely surviving and calling that living.

My writing is my way of touching you. My words are your words and your words are mine. We are one. We are the same. If you are drowning, I am drowning. I am because you are. My language, so creative and so Coral…using the word “fuck” like that’s appropriate. Using the word “fuck” because that is part of who I’m called to be. I don’t throw that out there to be an asshole…that was for my moms benefit, and I wouldn’t really user the word benefit. I believe it was subconsciously my only jab back. Now, I’ve come to know that me and my life and my language and my work and my haircut and my tattoos are mine. With my things, on my pages, in my language and in true Coral form…I do what I want. What I want is not the same as what others have wanted from me and for me. What I want is what I want and I am just beginning to figure out what that is.

Many of you close to me still have your Mom. I am here to tell you something really important, so pay attention. I am doing and saying and being someone that I was unable to be when my mom was alive in body. Out of respect for her need to be silent, my story and my experiences as they actually occurred for me, stayed inside of me. At least for the most part. My mom wanted my hair to look a certain way and didn’t like my tattoos or my piercings. My mom hated my favorite word so, so much, until right before she died too. My mom designed her memorial tattoo herself on my right arm right before she died. My mom said “fuck” a number of times right before she died. Greatly offended I asked her “why would say ‘fuck’ to me?!?” My mom said, with brain tumor and eradicated with cancer throughout her entire body…”because it is very liberating” followed by a middle finger and a “fuck you” to my dad from across the room. Why wait to liberate yourself until you are dying? Truly, liberate yourself now, however that looks and feels for you, without being inflictive to others of course. Having me in your living room for five minutes can do that…if you need my help, I’m for hire! If you need a push or some help, reach out.

Your mom is a human being, being human, just like you. Your mom may even be a visit that you have come to dread. Here is my advice: Tell your mom that she is an overbearing, controlling and unkind woman to you. Tell your mom that because you do love her so much, you must tell her how being around her feels for you. Being around the woman because she’s dying or going to fucking die so that you don’t regret not being around her? Really?! Think about that…think about what you are doing to you both by continuing this fucking insanity. You are doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Why? Every miserable fucking minute you spend with anyone for any reason is simply that…a miserable fucking minute. All you are going to get is many more miserable minutes. And yes, as many as you can cram in before she fucking dies…Why? This reminds me of what my health teacher said in the seventh grade, “For every minute you exercise, you live another minute!” That is fucking wonderful if you like to exercise. What if you don’t like to exercise though? All of those extra minutes you racked up doing something you hate are just that…more minutes added to your life, doing something you don’t want to do. Why?

Your mom…she is a perfectly flawed human being. My mom was a perfectly flawed human being. My mom did and your mom may, inflict her will upon you. You may, as I did, allow her to, because she is your mom. I am a perfectly flawed human being myself and I thought that was what I was supposed to do to be a good daughter. I could not have been more wrong, for both of our sakes and here is why; Every moment that you spend being who you are not for or with anyone, including and especially your mom, are robbing you both of the fucking prize. The prize is the authenticity of being yourself…the beauty of dressing like and looking like and being you is the most beautiful gift that you can give your mom. Don’t you want your mom to know what amazing things you are doing with the life she carried into this world? Do you not want your mom to see who you are? Who the fuck are you? I had no idea because I spent my entire life trying to be who others wanted me to be…most of all my mom.

Do yourself and your mom a favor. Be fucking honest. Be kind. Be loving. Be firm. Speak your truth with your voice. You’re mom carried you in and from there on out, you are on your own. We all are on our own. Do not let the woman who carried you in be the reason you want to take yourself out, simply because you will never be who she wanted you to be. Who do you want to be? Who are you?

You are beautiful. You are smart. You are valuable. You are resourceful. You are present. You are a good daughter. You are a good son. Make your mom proud? Why? And truthfully, would it work anyway? Make your mom aware of how you feel when you are around her. Tell your mom how it feels to come see her and that you do it out of obligation and not because you want to. Tell your mom that she is an asshole. Hear your mom when she tells you that you are an asshole. You are neither one wrong. Tell your mom that you love her and that you want to want to come see her and right now you really don’t.  You don’t like to call her and you don’t like to visit because…

I began attempting this several years before my mom passed away and it did not go at all well. My mom didn’t talk to me for weeks the first time that I really stood up to her. The susbsequent Times didn’t go a lot better for a while either. My mom died not knowing how badly she hurt me. Don’t do that to you and don’t do that to your mom.

You deserve to be treated with love and gratitude and respect. Your opinion does matter and your fucked up hair looks great to me! Do not keep yourself from yourself. Don’t keep who you really are from the woman who carried you in. What a horrible shame and substantial loss it would be for you to not let her get to know the wonder of you. What a shame it is that you are only spending quantity and not quality time with her before one of you dies. If she can’t be nice, spend less time with her and make it fucking count when you are there. Don’t stay and put up with it. Pick up your things and tell her that you will return when she can be kind to you. You want to make your mom angry,  proud, comfortable…you cannot make your mom those things. Be who you really are and watch how much she comes to love, respect and admire the amazing human being that she brought into being. Or watch in your rear view as she doesn’t. Sherry and I journeyed closer in two months than we did in 42 years, as I walked my mother home.

My mom loved me with all of her heart and my mom wanted what she thought was best for me. My mom is one of the most poignant and amazing human beings I have ever known and she was my best friend for 42 years. My mom didn’t handle me or my truth or who I was very well at times, as I did not handle hers well at times either. My mom is not here. Your mom still is. Don’t deprive yourselves of each other for one more moment.

Hi mom, it’s Coral. I am wondering if we could spend some time together today? I want to tell you how much I love you. I haven’t been honest with you and I want to set things straight between us. I love you with all of my heart and I need to tell you that you are hurting me. I need you to please not interrupt and to hear me out, okay? Being around you often kills my fucking soul. You are my mom and I want to spend time with you as me. In fact, I wanted to talk to you to tell you that if I cannot be me around you, I am going to spend less time with you….

I cannot choose your words. Only you can do that. Make them your words. If your voice is shaking and your ass is clenching just thinking about this conversation, you are doing it right. If you need help, I’ve many years of experience and a mom that I cannot have this conversation with anymore, so give me a call and I will see how I can help you. For yourself…for your mom…for the sake of the time you have left together, have an honest conversation with your mom today. Make these moments count and be who you are. Don’t let your mom die not ever really knowing the beautiful wonder that you are. Sherry says call your mom and be real. Here if you need me. Have a beautiful day! I live you!

Beginning to find and honor my own honor beat…

Good morning everyone! I hope you rested well and that your morning is off to a good start. I am really glad you are here. I had no idea what this blogging experience would be like or where it would take me.  I committed to blogging every day for 365 days, and I’ve been doing just that since December 2017. Setting up my blog I decided to make it really easy to find me, and really easy not to find me. If you’re looking for Coral, here I am and welcome. If you’re looking to avoid Coral, here I am andyou can just keep on going. Easy…right? I figure so…and that way everyone can find me who wants or needs to do so. I want to be available. I really, really do.

For years, I had unlisted and blocked numbers. I was ambiguous about where I lived. I wanted to be anonymous and to not be easily found. I never really thought about why that was, only that it was. I cannot really describe how liberating it feels to just be available, however that looks. Maybe it was paranoia in my addiction, the failed relationships…the jobs I left..friends who were not really friends at all…possibly a combination of all of it. Now, I give my phone number and address freely to whomever needs or wants it. I have no attachment to who finds me and who avoids me, although I won’t lie…I do sometimes wonder, who is out there looking me up. Strange…it’s like it really doesn’t matter and it never really did…at the same time it does matter and it always has mattered to me, at least on some level.

Do any of you have someone you wish you could reach out to? Why don’t you? I mean, why not make that call? Why not send that letter? Why not buy those flowers and have them delivered? Why don’t we reach? I guess I kind of want to talk about that today…what keeps us from reaching? For me, I really resonate with the twelve steps and so when making amends in step 9, I am constantly reminded that we do not make amends and definitely not in person amends when we could harm ourselves or others. We don’t offload our shit and call that amending. We don’t place others in harms way, just to relieve ourselves of the shit piled on top of us. Amends are often difficult and jagged mirrors and should be handled with caution. I know it won’t be a shock, in my amends, I write letters, poetry…send music…and sometimes, all I send, all that is appropriate to send, is all of my love. We must do better when we know better. We learn from our transgressions, don’t we? Being sorry and making amends is as much about changed behavior as it is about being sorry. If you’re truly sorry, enough to make amends for it, you must also be mindful and do better. The best apology for any of us, ever, is changed behavior. We don’t say we are sorry, just to go and do the same hurtful things over again, do we?

What about when our amends are not received well at all? This has happened to me only once and I can’t lie, it fucking hurt me…in fact, it still hurts me. I’ve not mastered the four agreements just yet and I still take things personally. I must have sent it too soon, without the right words…however it happened though, I did not feel better after attempting to convey my heart and my apologies for my failures and shortcomings. Receiving the response I received for a pour my heart out attempt at being very sorry, was like a fucking machete ripping through my very soul. I wanted to snatch my letter right back out of the space that it entered and to act as though I didn’t send it, until I could get it right. I was embarrassed and ashamed and hurt on so many levels. The words that came back were sharp and jagged and blaming and unforgiving and mean as hell…and all intentioned to hurt me, and they achieved that goal…those words and all of that blame and hate, they pierced me like tiny  little daggers assaulting my heart and soul. I kept that letter for a while, almost as though to punish myself for being inforgiven and unforgivable. I read it and I hurt all over again, just like I fucking deserved, right? Not right. Not fucking right at all, and so one day, when I pulled it up to remind me of what a fucking piece of shit I am, I deleted it. I said, no more. I had to accept that the response I got said far more about the other person than it could ever say about me. I had to forgive myself anyway, for not knowing what I didn’t know before I knew it and for not being more than I was before I started to grow into who I’m becoming. I still sit with the hurt of this failed relationship sometimes, as this relationship, as fucked up as it may have been, was a relationship that I put my whole self, my whole life and my entire being into. Years later and it still stings me sometimes, being so unforgiven and so hated by someone whom I love so much and forgave wholeheartedly. How do we love ourselves through this? When someone told us and anyone else who would listen, what a piece of shit loser we are, how do we stop hearing it? How do we silence the voices of those who do not want us to be well? How do we cease to concern ourselves with the blame cast upon us for all transgressions, and not just our own. Truthfully, for the longest time, I didn’t…and instead I picked all of that up and carried it on my back with all of my shit, because after all, it was all my fucking fault in the first place, wasn’t it? It was…all of it, until last week, in the middle of a colossal meltdown…all of it was my fault, every last bit of it. I have been spinning off of my axis in all of this pain, and I have been struggling with not having my Mom and I have been fucking inconsolable…truly…catatonic and completely inconsolable. In one of these episodes, where the world literally begins to close down on top of me and crush me…enter, full blown PTSD…my Mom is dead and I am fucking dying…my family left me and the world I knew just disappeared into thin air, I paused, with tears flowing down my cheeks and popping out my eyes, hyperventilating and so fucking destroyed, I looked up at Tamara and I said this…”I just realized that she threw me away, discarded me like trash, packed all of my things in a fucking box, unbeknownst to me, while sharing the evening drinking with friends…everyone left and we were smoking in the garage and she said I’m going to bed, you’re okay to go home, right? Actually, I had thought I was going to bed with her, like I had for months before. Constant nagging on her part that I never drink and drive because such an accident took her brother…no drinking, no driving, except for tonight, you need to go home. Oh, and here’s a box with some of your things. I couldn’t breathe or see straight or cry or anything. I followed her to the bedroom, where she wanted nothing to do with me, and I laid down on her bed, fully clothed, to try to sober up a bit. After what felt like an eternity, I got up, I kissed her on the forehead and I let myself out for the very last time, of that house. I drove home drunk, because it was less risky than laying there, in that bed, next to someone who was already gone. The problem was that it wasn’t over for me and I was not gone. I hung on forever, until last week actually, to the illusion that I was loved so much, attached at the heart and soul, to someone who threw me the fuck away.”

I was crying so, so hard, so desperately looking at Tamara, searching her eyes with the tears streaming down her face, for something, anything at all, to tell me I wasn’t disposable…that I’m not a piece of trash and unworthy…and I got that. I got it finally, that this person, that I have loved with all of my heart and placed on a pedestal, since the moment I met her, simply did not love me back. Whatever she was to me, I clearly was not to her. The love that I invested and the time and the effort and the planning and the dreaming…I did that by myself. I was in this by myself. I fell in love with someone who was not available, who had already chosen someone else, and my world shattered when she stayed right where she had been, instead of coming with me. I got exactly what I deserved and I was laid flat the fuck out splattered on the floor, unable to be sorry enough. Last week, I told Tamara what really happened…how I was thrown out, with a box full of all of my things, drunk and broken into a million pieces, in the middle of the night, by the woman I loved more than anything in the world, as best as I could, in the fog I was living in.

Somehow, saying all of that out loud to the woman who loves me more than anything in the world, the woman that I love more than I have ever loved another and more than anything in the world, I finally healed a bit. I healed in the crushing pain of a truth that I could not stand to see. I was not loved like a verb and the empty words that captivated my heart and set my soul on fire, they were just words. This person was unkind and vengeful and mean and cruel, and no matter how I try to paint this picture differently, I was thrown away. I have been thrown away, so, so many times. Looking into Tamara’s eyes that morning though, I knew that I would never be thrown away again. I love you Tamara and I thank you so much for how you love me like a verb…how you love me for the best and the worst of me and how you hold space for me and for us and how you have helped me to open my eyes and begin to live a life in alignment with my own soul.

I sit here kind of peacefully, and my heart hurts and keeps beating, to a rhythm all its own…I begin to find my honor beat, as I allow what no longer serves me to fall away from me and to be returned to the universe to be recycled for the greater good of us all. And so it is. Have a beautiful day everyone! I love you!

Talking about some hard stuff for Sam and I today, to ease the burden for us all…

Good morning everyone! I have decided to do a special meditation today. This meditation will be a meditation for us all…whatever your struggles, we will lift them up, and we will love our way through them. If you’ve a special need or request, please comment or send me a private message. I already have several special requests, which is what has prompted this special meditation. Where two or more are gathered…

I believe that love is the only way and so with all that I am, I am going to love, love, love my way through. Like many of us, I have already attempted to go around and under and over and even back, to avoid going through. My friends it is time for a break through! We are going to join our hands and our hearts and we are going to break on through to the other side!

Prajna had a dental on Monday and she is doing great! I think about how skilled and how dedicated her doctor is, and I am so thankful. I got more follow up calls and more love for my dogs dental than I did from my own doctor post op. I obviously appreciate and value the skill set. I need the love…I fucking need the love. I need to know that the people in my life give a fuck about me…like really give a fuck about who and how I am. I have always needed to connect and to feel loved, in all things. Man, I am fucking dying of thirst over here because you are also in a love drought, aren’t you? We are standing knee deep in a fucking River and dying of thirst (thank you for the lyric, the coralified lyric, Kathy Mattea). Why do you suppose that is? Why aren’t we basking in love, rather than dying of thirst?

We all have jobs to do. We all have career paths that we have been looking for and trying to navigate for years, haven’t we? We went to school. We took the exams and passed. We have the fucking certifications and the credentials on our wall. We did the interviews and the follow up interviews, and we got hired. We prayed for these jobs and we bargained with God to get them. We studied and did our labs. We knocked out our internships and we knew we would be the very best in our field when we graduated. We furthered our education and we specialized, because we are that fucking good. We climbed that fucking ladder, didn’t we? We did, and good for us. I mean truly, that was a lot of work. We missed a lot in our own lives to get here…birthdays and social outings, because we were studying our asses off, to get here. I’ve some news for us all…we never really get there. We did not come here to arrive. We came here to continue to grow and strive and to be more. You aren’t there. I’m not there. We are on a journey and we need to start being present on our journey and stop arguing about and freaking out about the fucking destination.

I was not going to write about this, and yet, that is why I am here. I am here to get it all out, rather than keeping it all in. I am here, in this healing room for me. I came here to heal myself and I am holding something awful. This morning, I come here before you all, to heal. I haven’t spoken out of respect for the friend that helped me so much to get here. I haven’t spoken because I have been afraid that I will get in trouble. I am here to be honest. I have been unable, except in private forums, to give a true account of my feelings about what happened to me when I went in for my hysterectomy…or as I prefer to call it, my spay procedure four weeks ago. This is my writing, about my feelings and my experience of being invisible. I share it now, to raise the fucking bar and to hold us all to a higher standard, in our work, whatever it may be, to actually see and feel and care about the people who trust us with their bodies. If you do not want to hear about my experience of my experience, then I bid you good day here. If you continue reading, please be clear that I am just trying to sort this all out and find my way again. I release all that no longer serves us all back to the universe for the greater good of us all.

As I sit here in the same pain that I went into surgery for, I will be really fucking honest with you, I am hurt and disappointed. Four weeks post op yesterday and I am healing from my surgery just fine. My scars look amazing and I am healing, and I am so thankful. I didn’t go in for a hysterectomy. I went in for intolerable pelvic pain, which I am still sitting here in, and I cry in frustration. I weep at what his will look like for me, having to begin again. I feel fucking defeated, to be real honest with you. Most of all and worst of all, I feel invisible. I was not seen. I was a time slot on a surgery chart. I was a section of torso under bright lights and skilled hands. I was forgotten before I was even discharged from surgery. My pain wasn’t managed because that was overlooked. Not discharged because you were too busy? No pain management because you forgot. Finally overdosed because you didn’t care enough and I wasn’t in my right mind enough, to communicate with me, like a human being with diagnosed C-PTSD in severe trauma. To make it all a little bit worse for me…you never even called…you still haven’t called. My vet called me as soon as my dog came out of anesthesia from her dental! I was so grateful, as I was on pins and needles waiting to know she was okay. Didn’t you know that there was a waiting room full of people, sitting on pins and needles, waiting to know that I was okay too? My God…where I’m all of this is the humanity? Are we all really so busy that we can only do the “work” and don’t have time for thre people we are working with? We can do precision work and we are fucking gifted at it, aren’t we? I mean, I look fucking amazing, and I believe your work was good. All I really need to know, is where were you? I know I was somewhere else, under anesthesia. What I want to know, is where we’re you? All things point to you not being present. You preformed a skill set, an amazing skill set, I’ve no doubt, and where were YOU?  I was gone. You were gone.

You will look at my scars in two weeks, and you will say how nicely I have healed. I have. I work on me, just like I work on my clients, and with all of the love that I work on my clients with. I look great! Here’s the thing though…I am still in excruciating, intolerable pain, because you didn’t do the procedure I went in for in the first place. What do I, a 44 year old woman with severe and complex PTSD, do to get what you went in for in the first place, and didn’t even address? What do I do now? Right now, I sit here, in excruciating pain, beginning another day, tormented by what the fuck do I do now? Am I angry? I am not. Am I hurt? You bet your sweet ass I am. I am a human being, who came to you in truth, in trauma and in need of some serious help for my pelvic pain. You did the mechanics and you went through the motions and you did your job, didn’t you? Here is my challenge to you and to everyone else’s, including myself…do more! The mechanics of your job are not in my skill set and I’ve a great deal of respect for all you went through to do what you do and to be who you are. The thing is, there is a person at the other end of your hands. In my case, a very special person, with very special needs, which you agreed to accommodate. How could you possibly accommodate the needs of someone whom you cannot even see? After being so invisible that I didn’t get discharged by you, didn’t get my pain managed by you…left without he procedure I went in for…and  then overdosed because I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing and you didn’t tell me…all while the people I loved sat in the waiting room looking at the monitor, showing me still in surgery for hours…After all of that and sitting here feeling like this, I challenge you to not only show up to do the mechanics…show up and be with your patient. I need you or I wouldn’t have come to you. A countless number of people do what you do. I came to you because someone I love with all of my heart trusted you with all of her heart. I went with that. I will always go with my heart.

I write about this for us all. We could all raise our own bars, couldn’t we? We could all be more present and more intentioned.  We all have our niches, our jobs and our careers. We all have our personal lives to contend with. We are all being compensated somehow, to be here, doing what we do. Why don’t we start being mindful of the actual people, the actual bodies that we are working with? We owe ourselves and each other more than being unconscious and unaware and not present. We are all here, walking each other home. We have our hands and our energy and our intention on one another. Does anyone else think we ought to maybe be more fucking mindful? I will close by saying that your absence is noticed, often more than your very presence. If you’re going to do what you’re doing, why not do it with your whole heart?

If you are the top in your field, the best of the best…I assure you, no matter who you are, myself included, we can all do better.

I challenge each of us to raise our own bars, to do more than is expected…more than we believe we are even capable of. I invite you to do you better, even if you’re already the best at what you do. Touch the hands, take the extra minute, share some love…make the personal phone calls and drop the handwritten note in the mail. Treat people how you would like to be treated, should the roles be reversed. Ask yourself if you would feel good about how you were treated in your care. Seriously, I gift this to each of us…whatever you do…do it with your whole heart. I prefer to be called on my shit , so that I can be better and so I know how I occur…so I can be accountable and be better. No one gets better by anyone being silent about things  that matter. I matter and my body matters and I challenge us all to know that about each other and ourselves.