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 throw my bullshit flag high into the air!!!

Happy Saturday morning everyone! I fucking love you! Thank you for being here!

I know many of you are hurting and I am here to tell you that I see you and I love you. We try, don’t we? We keep scraping ourselves up and getting back up! We keep fighting the good fight. We are here for a purpose. We are here for a reason. This pain is our teacher. This hell is our launchpad into greatness. This is exactly as it should be and we are right where we are meant to be. Only we can change where we are at. If you do not like where you are at in this moment, may I ask you, what are you doing to change it? We stay the same because we are afraid of change. We don’t because we think someone else will. We know better. You are it. You are the one your life is for. Your Dharma…your journey…your growth. This is all about you my friend. Every single bit of it.

We came here and we are here. We only have a little while. We only get one shot here, to give it all we’ve got. Cancer is a mother fucking bitch in the night and she is here to steal your children, your husband, your dad and your sister…your mom and your little brother…your best friend and your lover. Cancer does not give one fuck. Cancer does not give a shit how you saw this all going down. Nor does the final moment before you pull your own trigger. There is no grace…no mercy in these things. No righteousness or rhyme or reason…Suicide does not wait for hope. Suicide cannot call up common fucking sense. Suicide is the final engulfment of all that you fought against, finally taking you over. Suicide is you taking yourself out of pain that we cannot know or judge or understand. We pretend to and yet, we don’t know your heart, your journey, your pain. These are not our things to judge you for. These are things for us to love you through. The heart attack that knew no fucking mercy…the one that took your lover in the night…these are our lessons my friends. These are our launching pads into greatness! Without the one you loved more than you loved your own self, what great things will you do now, with that shattered and beautiful heart of yours? With your pain, who will you help to heal?

The bottle…the pills…the food…the mind fucking thoughts…for today…just for today, can we set these things down? I will rest from mind fucking myself and you set down your bottle. I will consciously stay out of my head today. You eat consciously today. Eat what nourishes you and feeds your soul and that beautiful body of yours. Do not eat to fill up the gaping hole that food will not fill anyway. Eat joyously with friends, in laughter and celebration today! Enjoy every single bite. When you are full, set your fork down and be done. Fill yourself with joy and laughter and happy instead of the things that make you sick at your own sight. The bottle is always going to empty you more than it empties itself. Every single mother fucking time. One after the other, glass after empty glass crashing as you fetch yourself another drink…as your mind gets far away from you and your words trail off into oblivion without you…set the fucking devil down my friends. The demons are in those bottles and they will fuck you up every single time, for they know and care not who you are. They are your fucking void…your empty…your constant reminder that you are wasting your life, yourself, your love and your potential. Every sip…every swig, especially the ones you are lying to yourself about, will rip a little more of you away from you, away from me…away from us. For I won’t be there when you awake to yourself, to hold you and tell you it’s okay…You’re okay. You will wake alone again with your empty bottle and your own lies and you will be ashamed. You will be so ashamed in fact, that you will just keep drinking. You do not feel worthy to be whole, to be present, to be sober…and so you aren’t. I am here to suggest to you that you are more than this. You are so much more than the things that you allow to run your life. Set it down. Just set it down. And no matter who or what or when or where…you do not pick it back up.

I am vegan and I will always be vegan. Eating animals, my friends, is no longer an option for me. Period. I set it down. You did too, for the animals, stop eating them,right? You went vegan and never once looked back. Your life is now dedicated to the animals and you will never eat them again. Why is that? How can you be vegan, just like that, after eating dead flesh and secretions your whole fucking life? You stopped. And yet you cannot stop doing what is killing you? I know. I know. You’re sick. Me too my friend. Me too. Here is the thing, you have the ability to stop. You stopped eating flesh of your friends, simply because it is no longer an option, right? Many of you quit cold turkey, so to speak, didn’t you? For the animals, for compassion…you quit just like that. And yet, for you, you say you are sick and cannot stop drinking? I am going to hurl this bright yellow bullshit flag at you! I am going to bring a rare steak, smothered in dairy to your house, with a picture of our cows, Karuna and Ahimsa, and I am going to ask you to eat that fucking steak. In front of your plate, I am going to place a full glass of water and I am going to ask you to eat your friends and wash it down with something that won’t allow you to “forget” what you just did. This madness…this addiction…this thing you say you can’t control…why do you think so little of yourself my love? If I were presented with a rare steak, a bottle of wine and a glass of water, You will find me on a water fast until I find something else to eat and drink or until I pass away from starvation. Eating my friends and drinking the wine are equally as egregious to my soul. I will not because there is a power higher than myself who reminds me to repeat the serenity prayer until I feel it. To set it down and to thank God for my sobriety, just for today.

Have a beautiful Saturday everyone. Set it down and pick yourself up. We are all here waiting for you! We believe in you and we fucking love you! We simply want you to love you too!

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

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!

I will rise from these ashes.

I lingered and then lingered some more, as I knew that when I left, I would not pass this way again. All of the memories and horrors…all of the expectation and disappointment and disgust…all of this fucking pain. I stood in all of that pain. As the pain kept raining down, I stopped seeking refuge and shelter. I just stopped. I decided instead, to let the rain and the tears wash me away. Wash me all away. I have never really done much more than existed, and that was a chore at times. Standing here though…being here and repeatedly trying to leave here…all while trying to find a way to stay here. Something broke in me. I let it break. Literally being shredded and mocked and taunted with tones and rigid jaw lines and then being rendered lifeless by the contempt. There’s no fight for this. There are no words for this. There is no reprieve from this. This has never been okay. I have never been safe. I have been thrown away and I grieve as though I am the one who left. I would never have left. I know I am not the leaver… I am the left behind…a pattern I’ve learned and repeated so, so many times before. I won’t act like this is okay. I forgive. I cannot forget. I love. We are the best thing that ever came of all of this. We stand alone. I stayed and I held space. This pain though…I have never known pain like this before. Foreign and so familiar is the pain that finally hit me hard enough for me to go down. We closed out a couple of lifetimes standing there. There was no budge and I cannot bend anymore without fracturing myself beyond repair. I regress. This morning though…first thing when I opened my eyes… the tears continue to fall. No dam can hold the flood of tears on their way down. No force can stop the flood and there is no comfort to be found. I haven’t spoken much of this, as I don’t even begin to know how to find the words. These words, somehow jumbled and coded, edited into “I” statements. These words are so void of all of the pain inside. These words are the best that I can stammer out, in an effort to relieve the tension that holding them has caused.

This is about me. This is about me and how I feel about what has been done. I have the power to make decisions best for me. I am not powerless. Making someone else wrong will never make any of us right. Lies are an attempt to hide a truths that don’t align with us. I have been invisible and I have been hurt repeatedly and on purpose. Over and over, and over again, I’ve not been seen at all. And I…I am barely breathing and moments away from ceasing to exist anymore at all. I am dying and I have been blatantly denied life support. I am drowning and the flood gates have been opened anyway. I am broken as the cord that held my world snaps and crashes down on top of me. I am struggling in the rubble and I extend my hand. I see the shadow pass before me and the hands shoved in the pockets of the dark image passing by. I am but a lowly beggar and my basket is nearly empty. My heart nearly broken. My face tear stained and aged and lined. I stand alone and so I am going now too. Another thing and the worst of things is that I would fix this if I could. I cannot. I cannot fix this. I did not break this. Unaccountability and anger and greed and rage and entitlement and contempt that can no longer be disguised or hidden behind other words seeps out and drains my soul. The mask has fallen off and the truth, scribbled across the shadows of a face I used to know. I can. I won’t. The rhetoric in my head, that I repeat on accident…unsettling. A broken little girl in a woman’s body. Sam and Coral and Coral and Sam, tumbling about, being tossed and turned out…A golden boy falling from grace that never befell him. And she in her casket. We have fallen apart. We have fallen from grace. We have lost more than we ever could have imagined. And my soul shrieks in the most agonizing pain of this lifetime. The bloodstains and the tears…the flashbacks and the right nows…the horrors and the lifelessness…the lovelessness…and I must go on.

For each painful thing that befalls me, and oh how it has befallen me, that I cannot turn seem to turn positive and to the light, I offer three positives and I give thanks. And I am on my way to that, in the midst of all of this.

In the loss of all I’ve truly ever known, I have gained the opportunity to be myself. And I give thanks.

I have done enough here and so I must go, as I’ve much good work to do our there. It rips my heart into bits to be begrudged the little bit of happy I have found and to feel the venom seeping out. Our house was full of strangers and friends…friends who who aren’t even friends back…and we watched from the outside of the glass. We had our little faces pressed against the glass, peering through the window at the Christmas of someone else in a home that we used to call our own. And we cry…God do we fucking cry. And I must go on. Without the knowing of how, I will go on.

Brand new, I return to the rooms of AA. Beginning again, from my lowest point in four and a half decades, I crack the cover of my big book for the first time. I begin again. I die this death to be born anew. I die this death to begin my life as me, for I will not dwell here any longer.

For the gifts and the lessons and for the endless and abundant blessings, I am so thankful. I truly am. I know how blessed I am. I write to heal myself. I write to get all of this out. I write to try to sort myself, my life…this. I intend to harm no one. And, I will not be silent. I have carried the sins of many. I have endured the beatings of nations. Today, on this day, I decide. Tomorrow and the next day and all of the days after that, I decide. From now on and for always, I decide. My decisions will be in my own best interest and in my own highest good…in the highest good of everyone, for we are all the same.

I am in the throes of something that I must go deep within to resolve and sort out. I have pulled myself out of circulation today and will not be available, as I repair my heart and lick my wounds. As I prepare my inner warrior for spiritual battle, I must prepare a place and I must ready myself for the letting go that is taking place, to prepare for all of the good things coming. These embers are still hot and cooling down, and as I patiently wait for them to become ashes, I prepare myself to rise up. I will rise from these ashes. And so it is.

As always, I send all that does not serve us, back to the universe to be recycled for the greater good of us all. I love you. Have a beautiful Sunday!

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.

Who are you when you think no one is looking?

Happy early Sunday morning everyone! My girl comes home on this day and I am so excited! I am so happy that she got away and had some time with her family and I am so, so glad she is on her way home to us!

Also, I am so glad that you are here! My blog had been all over the place. I have been all over the place. I’m glad we came back together in the healing room this morning. For all of your love and all of your prayers…thank you. I love you and I pray for you too.

I want to write this morning about how we see one another. How do we see one another? Do we see the God within the person looking back at us? Do we see the God within ourselves peering back in the mirror at us? We are God. God is us. However you do or do not see God…G.O.D Good Orderly Direction (Thank you for that Tamara). God your Savior. It matters not, for We are all just walking each other home. My point is that when we look at one another, we reflect ourselves back. It does not matter who you are looking at…this is true. If you light up at the sight of me you are mirroring a part of yourself that lights you up. If you want to cut me when you see me, and not that that ever happens…you are also mirroring a part of yourself that I trigger in you that you are less than pleased with.

Do you not want me to be better? Do you not want better for me than to see me not being better than you know I have potential to be? Of course you do! The great news is that this means you want this for yourself on some level too. You want to be better than you are. You want to be integrity and to epitomize the reality that integrity is what we do when no one is looking. Let’s talk about integrity for a second, shall we? Recall in this instant the last thing that you saw that didn’t set well with you that you did something to make better? Maybe you picked up a piece of trash. Maybe you helped someone in need. And…maybe you didn’t. Only you know…no one else. Here’s the clincher though, and the one that you completely disregard every single time…YOU know better. YOU are disempowering yourself by not doing better. You…the God within you…your inner moral compass…no matter who you are or what you do…you know. You fucking know. And guess what? So does she. You think that you have fooled yourself and by doing so you have convinced yourself somehow that you have fooled her too. You have not fooled either one of you and you’ve made yourself a fool as the door hits you where the good Lord split you because she doesn’t want to be fooled anymore. You already know she’s gone…your intuition (that is God talking to you by the way) has already spoken. We feel it. We know it. We often don’t want to know and much of the time we don’t know how to know what we have come to know and we know just the same, don’t we? Integrity…that’s who each of us live with or without every single day. What we do when no one is watching is what defines us. If you want to lie to me, be my guest. If you think that by doing so you aren’t doing the most damage to you…I offer you these words…be the change. Tell the fucking truth. It’s easier for one thing because you don’t have to keep track of the lies you told. Most of all though…it’s all we really have. If we can’t trust each other…those closest to us in our very own beds and homes…we need to make some more healthy choices for ourselves, don’t we. If you do not respect me enough to tell me the absolute truth, then please don’t say it at all. Give me you and I will give you me. Those of you who know me well know I’ve done it backwards my whole life…I gave it and hoped you earned it…your trust. It’s your trust. You earn it and we can go from there. For those of you living in lies…for those of you lying…for those of you being lied to…Why? If it’s not true, it’s not real…if it’s not real…look at that and do something about it.

Many of us are consciously working twelve step programs. All of us are working twelve step programs whether we know it or not. If you want to two step your fucking life away, don’t do it on my watch. Not anymore. Be a good and decent human being. Be honest. Practice integrity in all things. Be of service. Go out there and DO it and stop trying to do it. Yoda says that “there is no try, only do.”Go out there and get it and stop fucking whining about not having it. Save the marriage that your pissing away by being unaccountable. Tell her the fucking truth…she already knows so be the person big enough to realize that and own your shit before she asks you again or calls you out again. Love him enough to let him go if he’s really not the one. Let him go find the one. We all deserve the one. Don’t hold on to the one whose not the one because you have not found the one…be a good and kind person. You know what is right and just. Go do that. Be of service. Do something every single day for someone who can never repay you. Most of all though, be honest with yourself. Gut wrenching and soul crushing work…and so worth it. Why would any of us ever want to be with anyone who made us a second choice to anyone else in the first place? Be it a bottle or another woman…another man or a dissatisfaction for the way things are…Why would we stay when they left when they stepped out in the first place? We have to love ourselves better before we can love anyone else better. Loving someone better is a verb. Whatever truth that you have held that came to you during this post…go share that truth with the person you have been lying to and set you both free. Be the change. Be love in action. Integrity…it does matter. What are you doing when you think no one is looking? If you don’t like your answer…get up of your ass and go change it! Have a beautiful Sunday everyone! I love you! Did I mention that my girl comes home today?!

I dedicate this blog to everyone who ever worked for me…(inspired by Kelli)

Happy Wednesday everyone and Happy Halloween! As a child, I loved Halloween. My mom made our costumes and we got to go trick or treating. Halloween was always special for us. The holidays were always so special to us.

Halloween also marks the beginning of my life’s work. I adopted Max from a local rescue. Max was scheduled for FHO surgery today in 2010 or 2011. (I think it was 2011). Meeting both the veterinarian  and the president of the rescue for the first time, at the vet on the afternoon of the 30th for Max’s pre-op appointment, it was determined that Max didn’t need FHO surgery after all. Long story short, I am a licensed massage therapist and I knew Max’s hips hurt him. While I was watching TV, drinking a beer, I massaged Max’s hips every night and in the morning and all the time. Recounting this period of my life still stings me, as it was a period in which I learned some of my hardest lessons. This period of my life also introduced me to the next level of Coral.

I graduated from massage school in 2008. I hated being touched and I hated touching people. I was working downtown as a bar manager when a young man was jumped by 8 other young men. I was walking to the burrito truck before inventory when I saw him. Bleeding out and convulsing, with people all around and no one touching him, I got down on my knees and held his crushed head C-spine in my hands the best that I could, as his life bled out all over me. He opened his beautiful green eyes one last time, as his mom sobbed in the background on a friend’s cell phone. EMS response time was over 19 minutes and his BPM dropped to 3. He wasn’t pronounced when I took my bloody hands from his hair, and yet he was gone. Unbeknownst to me then, I was gone too. All I saw in his eyes as he took his final breaths was my own little brother and all I could hear was my own moms voice. The aching in my soul for the woman who lost her little boy that night and for the little brother I saw in his eyes, as I walked him home…fuck…just fuck…This was the third person in a two or three week period who I witnessed lose their life downtown, and I was done. I was literally and completely done. I quit my job as a bar manager. I went the next day and applied for massage school. The rest is history.

Today, I am just Coral. I have worked for all of these years to credential myself . I have searched myself completely stupid trying to find out who the fuck I am. You cannot imagine the countless hours and dollars I have spent on business cards and brochures and flyers to sell myself to you. I have taken classes and more classes, attended seminars and lectures. The humans brought me to the animals and the animals brought me back to you. I am in your homes every week working on your animals, and yet I am finding that my work is also with you. My gift is in my ability and in my willingness to help you. I am rearranging people’s homes and holding their hands in prayer. I am working things out with you that I know everything and nothing of. I am available and I am willing and I have been where you are. I care about you and I love you. I will ask you again how I can love you better? How may I help you? One thing that all of my many jobs and my many experiences has taught me is that I cannot be boxed in and anchored down and labeled.

Being your manager was so fucking hard for me. I hated having to be all of these fucking things I wasn’t and making you be who you weren’t either. I hated having to separate myself from you and I couldn’t do it. I gave a shit about you and I wanted to help you. I didn’t ever feel above you, because I wasn’t and yet I was expected to behave as though I was. I cared about you and your families. I wanted you to get promoted. I wrote and rewrote schedules enough to almost get me fired, to try to accommodate and honor your individual lives. I covered your bartender and server shifts so that you wouldn’t miss your first dates, and you all worked your asses off for me. I fucking loved you and that wasn’t in the handbook. I told you I loved you and that was fraternization. I got the worst scheduled because I was gay. I was told that straight to my face. I worked open to closes because you had kids and a family. I had kids and a family too. Three kids to be exact. My employees knew my family and my family knew my employees. I wanted to be a good manager with a Coral twist. I will suffice to say that this Coral twist was not only condemned but caused such hatred and contempt amongst my peers, that we almost ended up in a class action lawsuit for sexual discrimination. My attorney was paid off and we settled out of court for next to nothing after his fees. There was a gag order placed on me and my career was destroyed. My integrity questioned and my name drudged through the mud.

I bring this up because I have been reunited with one of my employees. I cannot tell you what it means to me to have just celebrated her Birthday with her and her son and her husband and my wife.

Kelli, you have no idea how you have touched my life. When you worked for me, you were kind. You were hard working and honest. You had integrity and you did your fucking job. You made my shitty job of babysitting and being babysat easier, just by being you and doing your job. When I was called to your tables, I was called over for compliments. You have no idea how many desserts I comped in gratitude for these compliments about you. When my closer walked, you stayed and helped me close. When I was being berated, you rallied the troops to keep me going. You stood up for me and I for you. When the other bartender was robbing us blind and stealing your tips, I was preparing our case. I was defending us. I know you knew that. I hope you always knew that you defended me too. To have you back in my life…to be a part of your beautiful family…to break bread with you and yours and to have you here volunteering with us…fuck girl…it was worth every single gut wrenching minute. Everything taken from me in that era of my life has been returned tenfold upon your return to my life…upon so many of your returns to my life.

My blog today is dedicated to Kelli and Josh and Lauren and Matt…Sigrid and Gail…Angela and Erin…and every single employee who ever worked their ass of for me…who went to bat for me…who stood up for me and stood down under me, so that I could do my job.

Today I renounce the titles and the labels. I blow the rules and the expectations out of the fucking water, just to let you know that I am Coral and I am here to help you. Have a beautiful day everyone. I love you Kelli. Thank you.

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.

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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.

Let us make this movement move!

Happy Sunday morning everyone! I am up early and sitting in front of a cozy fire with Prajna, praying on what to write abou this morning. Some days it just comes and some days I know I’m merely here to relay a message. Some days I could write for days and some days I can’t find my words. Today, my message comes directly from the divine creator. Spirit wants you to know that she’s got you.

As I look around the world at all of the pain and fear and disembowlment of things once sacred, I am called to carry and smoke heavily, the peace pipe. Into the trenches with people who have preconceived notions about me, I am called to be the light. I stand up to be the change I wish to see in my world.

Real quick, I want to address punctuation and spelling and sentence structure…I know. I do not edit this blog. I let the words flow out and unlesss spellcheck checks it, I don’t attach myself to it. I do this on purpose. One reason is that I am working on not sweating the small stuff and to be honest, it drives me fucking crazy. I am so fucking anal retentive that it kills me to do my re-read after I post, so I can get the message too. Every day I see the errors and leave it. Making my therapist proud for years…that’s how I roll! My blog is a hot mess on purpose. My blog is me and this is how I’m called to do it, so let’s do it! Some day I may revisit and find myself and editor; until then…you get Coral raw, uncensored, unedited (literally) and authentic, in all of my glory. Let us make this movement move, shall we? And yes, you will hear a lot of other people’s words in my writing…a shit fucking ton of Nahko…and I thank each and every inspiration, every thought, idea and dream from each of these words. I never do not give credit on purpose and I am always grateful when their words pass my lips. Thank you Wayne Dyer, Mom, Nahko, Ram Dass, Tamara…for allowing me to use your words. Let’s get back at it, shall we?

Do you find yourself asking…”How can I, little ol’ me, all by myself be the change?” How can you not be the change? How can you live a life of purpose if you feel insignificant and like you don’t matter? How can you impact change if you have convinced yourself and allowed others to convince you, that you are not important? “What difference does one vote make?” Really? I used to think that too and I still voted. My own ignorance fucking astounds me at times…truly. I hear nothing but bitching and I cannot help but wonder, did you vote? I don’t give a fuck who you voted for, as that is your business…did you vote? Those of you who do not exercise your right to vote have a more adverse impact upon the shape our country is in than those of you who voted for the “wrong guy”. We must realize how significant we are and stop being so fucking complacent. We must cease blaming others and take accountability for ourselves and our actions. What we do when no one is watching is the greatest measure of our true character. How we speak about others says more about us than it ever says about them.  Some of you have heard me talk some shit, haven’t you? What did that say to you about me? Was it true? Was it kind? Was it necessary?

We are on time. (Thank you Nahko) We really are on time. Things that don’t suit us are awaiting our special touch to brighten things up a bit. People who enrage is are a mirror for ourselves, so that we may see how we occur to others. If you do not like the county or the world or the community that you live in, then do something to change it. Seriously, I hear all the time what is wrong with this country and I know damn well that you didn’t even fucking vote. You jumped on someone elses bandwagon. You hopped up into someone else’s hype. You attached yourself to their anger and swallowed their venom and you carry those ideas as your own. You got sucked into everyone else’s fear and you became afraid yourself. Your fear turned into anger and you are fucking pissed at the people who allowed this to happen. YOU allowed this to happen if you didn’t vote. I allow things I do not wish to persist simply because I am too lazy to fucking resist them. We all do that. Being the change is a verb, like love and honesty are verbs. In action, be the change. In words, shut the fuck up about everyone and everything else that is wrong with the world and look in the mirror. Look honestly at that reflection and make that change. (Thank you Michael Jackson)

We have a choice. Just look at your day…how many choices do you make…how much impact do you have in each choice you make, every single day? Helping you and I to chose our words more carefully…Is it kind? Is it necessary? Is it true? If it’s not, keep your words to yourself until they are kind and true and necessary. Don’t pass on shit that isn’t kind, honest, necessary and true.

I was handed something early Monday morning that I’ve still not spoken about because I simply cannot yet meet that criteria. My first instinct upon hearing it was to pick up the phone in my fury and repeat it, and the to make my next call and repeat it again. “Oh my God…you are not going to fucking believe this shit…” I have almost always made those calls following the call that blew me out. Why? Why in the fuck did I do that? Why do we do that? We don’t have to do that. Some call that drama, and I’ve no bandwidth for drama, and yet I have been some fucking drama. Stirring the pot and getting everyone up in a fucking tizzy with my ignorance ans bullshit…been there and done that. Henceforth, I will hold what I need to hold until I can detach myself from it and be kind and honest and only speak about what is necessary. Until then, I simply say that I do not have the bandwidth to speak of it at this time. (Thank you to my therapist for the no bandwidth…I use that a lot lately and it works for me to shut my own drama down).

Thank you all for being here with me this morning. As you go out into the world today, remember that you are responsible for being the change you wish to see in the world. Keep your drama to yourself until you can decipher it and send it out in better context than it came to you in. If you are unhappy in our political climate, get online and register to vote and show up at the polls. Otherwise shut your fucking face. Truly, you know who you are and you would be of more benefit to yourself and everyone else if you could just stop talking and go do something about it…whatever it is. Those of us doing something really do get annoyed sometimes with those of you trolling our pages and stirring pots and your unnecessary and unkind commentary and rhetoric about things you know nothing of. I love you just the same man…just stop talking and get out there and do something about it.

Todays challenge for each of us is to register to vote and to educate ourselves about our candidates. The brow beating and trash talking commercials are probably not the best place to get your information…go out there and dig a bit. How can you be the change if you’ve no idea what is going on? Hey, me too…I’m guilty of my blog or I would not be able to write it. I am about to close and so this gives you the perfect opportunity to go and get registered to vote. Go to Propeller.com and get yourself registered and educated. Being the change means changing. You cannot change by staying the same and by doing the things you’ve always done. Let’s get busy and make this movement move! I love you. Have a beautiful day everyone!

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!