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.

This morning I write for my dear friend Taffy, who’s needs all of our love…

Good morning everyone! Please welcome my good buddy Taffy to the healing room this morning! Taffy is 14 years old and as you can see, he struggles with some physical ailments. Taffy just turned 14 on Thursday, February 14th. Taffy’s body struggles and yet his spirit soars! Taffy needs assistance for the body that carries his huge spirit and his enormous soul around. Taffy is love and today, I am asking you to send every last bit of love you have to our boy Taffy, his sister Lily and his Mom Nicole and his Father, Rod. This morning, they need us to lift them up and to hold them close. The struggle is real for Taffy and the struggle is just as real for his mom and dad who are carrying him through this storm. Lily, well, her highest self is all about Taffy’s highest good. Her “in body self” though…she is used to Taffy giving her hell, and he isn’t, because he can’t and so please send her all of your good juju this morning to love her bobo through this difficult journey.

We all have that special someone and Victor, well he sure was someone special. Just ask Rod or Nicole about Victor! Victor was the first angel that came down when I called for Taffy’s tribe to surround him. Victor pushes Taffy’s little ass right back across the rainbow bridge that he was trying to cross too soon, back to us, for a bit longer. Victor inhabits Taffy’s little body now much of the time, to help him keep wheeling himself along. Last night, just like I held little Aiden for twelve days, in recliners and felonious hands…in abandoned cars and sickness…I held Taffy. Taffy will not leave my arms, and I ask you to give all the love you mustered up for Aiden and his family for Taffy and his family now. As Taffy and I journey, as Morgan and Marne and I still journey, I ask each of you to lift us up. With all you’ve got this morning, please lift us all up in your love and healing light that we may love Taffy and his family to the brim and overflowing!

I have never really been able to explain my work. I realize as I write this morning that is because it needs no explanation. My work is my work and when it is done, it is forgotten. I once birthed a baby rhinoceros in the Serengeti. I still swim with Morgan and her calf Marne in Tenerife. I am always right next to Aiden and I go to see him every chance I get.

Aiden asks for your love for his buddy Taffy this morning. I never laid hands or eyes on Aiden until Aiden finally came home. My eyes, in my work, they are not what gives me the vision I need to do my work. My heart and my divinity…my love and my desire to spread God’s love and healing…my knowing and my acceptance that I am here to love us all home…that is one tool I use daily…and she has never once failed me. As I walk out of fear and into love, I thank Aiden and Taffy and Teddy and Alice and Penn…Gypsy and Hannah…Michael and Jackson and Sid…Rio and countless other clients who have walked me home. My interaction with these clients has inspired a shift for me in my work. This shift is to return to the Serengeti, where I did not give one fuck what people would think if I relayed my experience, of birthing a baby rhinoceros so that she could live, while her mommy died birthing her. I brought her in and I carried her mom out. When the time came, I picked up my own mother in my loving arms and I carried her home. That is who I am and that is how I do it. Actually, to be honest, I don’t do it. God uses me as a vessel to do what he cannot do without hands. I am merely an instrument used by the master himself, and I am so thankful, grateful and blessed. Thank you God, for choosing me to love your beautiful babies. Love is a verb and I am learning how to love as I am loved.

Taffy might have a day left. Taffy might have a week or a month or years left. We have no way of knowing, until we know. Taffy told me yesterday, as I gazed into his mother’s beautiful, sparkling and “Sherry blue” eyes, filled with tears, that until his soul leaves his eyes, he is all in. My mom opened her beautiful, sparkling blue eyes one last time, before the last time she opened her eyes…and the last time, her eyes were gray…for her soul had left the building. Taffy reminds us all that our eyes are the window to our soul. When that light goes out, the soul soars free and we bust out of the bodies that contained us and can no longer carry us. I saw my mom yesterday, in Nicole’s eyes and I saw little Aiden in Taffy. I see you in me and me in you. As we walk each other home, sometimes we all need a little lift. Today, with all of my heart, I ask you to lift Taffy and his family up and that you love them with all you’ve got!

I hope you all have a beautiful Saturday and I ask you to please say with me, “We love you Taffy! We have got you in our loving arms! Let’s keep rolling big guy!”

Three years later…I dedicate today’s blog to my Mom…I love you. I miss you. I hear you.

Today is December 3rd. Three years ago at 12:06pm, on this day, my Mom won her battle with stage four breast cancer, with metastasis to her liver, her lungs and her brain, and her heart stopped beating. My Mom was 66 years old. My Mom was a mother and a wife for just over 46 years and that is all she ever wanted to be…a wife and a Mom. My mom was a good wife and my mom was a good mom and my blog today is in honor of and in loving memory of my Mom, Sherry Marie Ricketts.

My soul struggles today. My heart aches with each heartbeat this morning. This gut-wrenching, life-leveling and completely inconsolable pain is upon me and I feel crushed by its weight this morning. My mom is dead and I can’t fucking take it. Three years and yet no time has passed at all. Today, right now…I am right back there.

5:21am and I awake, although I’ve not slept in two months, to my Dad calling down the hall for me. We need to change your mom again. No wait…that was a few days ago. On this morning I got up to let Tamara out, so she can get up the mountain and feed everyone. Tamara came down last night to be with me…to be with us. My Mom has been non-verbal and non-responsive for days now. Aging with every breath she takes…we cannot not know that my mom is going home soon.

Preparing her meds, I hear her gasping in the other room for breath. I can’t fucking take it anymore and I call hospice and she says she will be right there. One of the kindest souls I’ve ever known…an angel came and she said we were getting close. I asked her how close and she said hours to maybe a day. My mom had lost her gag reflex and time was short. Time was so short in fact that it was only a couple of hours between hospices last visit and my calling them back to help me. God damn it I needed someone to help me. My Mom, lying dead in our den, was not there to help me, and I collapsed and I wept and I fucking died in that den too. My dad and I died in that den and we did not know what to do. I had to call my little brother and tell him that mom just died and he died and almost wrecked his car on that day too. I had to call Tamara and I had to tell her that mom was gone. I broke. I wailed. I went completely silent. I went out to smoke, hoping she would be breathing when I came back in. She was not. We all died a little bit that day. We all had absolutely no fucking idea what we were about to be facing…we had no guidance anymore. We were babies, all of us, and we didn’t know what in the fuck to do without that lifeless woman lying there telling us…guiding us…helping us. My God! Please help us!!!

Three years ago and yet I am there now, with and without my mom. I am in the studio she built for me, in front of the fire she insisted that I have and I am without my mom. The cold of that cannot be warmed by this fire. My soul screams this morning and my heart aches for my mom. I just want my mom right now. This is not just another day to me. Maybe someday it will be and today is not that day. December 3, 2015…a million fucking lifetimes ago and right fucking now…1095 days ago…26,280 hours ago…1,576,800 minutes ago…Three years ago on this day, time changed…life changed…I changed…and today I honor the place in me that needs to honor my mom today. And so it is.

Sherry was my Mom…Shawn’s Mom…and countless other people’s mom when they needed her to be.Sherry was Fred’s wife. Sherry was a friend to so many of you…a confidant and a crusader for so many of you. We know her differently and ever the same. We love her differently and ever the same, don’t we? Many of you hurt today too, don’t you? I feel you and I want you to know that I love you. I feel you. I miss those fucking high heels 👠 clicking towards me too.

My mom always told me that I should write. “Sugar, you write so well. Why don’t you write a book? You tell your story so well Sugar, why don’t you be a stand up comedian? Sugar, how do you spell…? Sugar, you write and draw and paint so well…you are an artist and a poet…why don’t you write and illustrate your own book? Maybe a book of your animals at the Sanctuary? Sugar, you are going to write, aren’t you?” Yes Mom. I am going to write. I began writing soon after I realized that was the only thing that could possibly, maybe, save me, and that was a year ago when I started coralsblog I am painting again mom and two of my pieces are in a local art show tomorrow evening, at Effing Bar (coincidence? I think not). I never wanted to be a Mom and my mom didn’t understand it…and she knew it just the same. My mom knew who I wanted to be…who I would be…she bought me their books…Shakespeare…Vincent Van Gogh, Pablo Picasso…Michael Jackson…Wayne Dyer Mickey Mouse and Jesus…Shel Silverstein…Dr. Seuss…just to name a few. I don’t know it then and I am grateful to know it now…my mom knew who I was and she knew I was here to do great things…amazing and huge things. I don’t think either of us realized that she would have to die for me to do it. This blog would not exist if my mom were still alive and so I do what I do. For every negative, I offer three positives:

My mom is dead and I can’t call her on the phone.

1. Because my mom has left her body, she is my biggest fan and no longer my biggest critic. For this new relationship with the woman I call my mom, I am eternally thankful.

2. Because my story is my own and because I am allowed to tell it, I am thankful that my mom is supportive and encouraging from where she is, as she was unable to be supportive of my being public about what happened in our family while she was in her body. My mom is my inspiration for much of my story now and I am so grateful.

3. I am so thankful that I had 42 years with my mom. I am thankful for the woman strong enough to carry me in and humble enough to let me carry her out. For every breath I lose missing my mom, someone else never got the time to know their mom at all. For the things I take for granted, I am becoming aware and I am so blessed.

Today, I stand before you making a different choice than I did a year ago…two years ago…on this day. I will not stand at her grave and weep…she is not there…she does not sleep. I am here and I do not sleep either. A little tiny pig needs a ride to her forever home this morning. I had scheduled my first work day with the little co-operative that we’ve been dreaming up, purposely to be on December 3rd, to begin a new, to awaken anew on this morning. We sadly canceled yesterday due to inclement weather and bad roads. So, that freed us up to jump in our Jeep and four wheel up out of here to be of service for a little bit today…and I am so fucking thankful! “When you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change.” Thank you Dr.Wayne Dyer. Up there with my mom this morning.,.please tell her I say hello and I love her Wayne. “Coral, you know I will.” And so it is.

I honor the woman who selflessly carried me in, a warrior in her womb and often a thorn in her side, this morning, knowing she would have to die for me to do my work. I honor the woman who was a warrior this morning. I honor the warrior in each of you this morning.

I love you mom. Today, in loving memory and honor of our mom, Tamara and I will be of service and be together. I will cry a lot. I will laugh a lot. I will appreciate your love and prayers and texts a lot. I love you.

We must go toward the love…(a message from Sherry and Coral)

Happy Sunday everyone! What a beautiful snow blanket we are covered in this morning! I love sitting cozy in front of the fire watching it snow and thinking of my Mom. I love living in the mountains, where I’ve always known would be my home and final resting place. I love being in love. As I learn what it means to be in love and how it feels to be in love…I love being in love more and more.

To be in love and I mean really in love, you have to bare your soul, don’t you? You have to bare witness to someone else’s soul too, don’t you? You have to really, really put yourself out there and to trust. You have to be naked in the fucking snow, so to speak, with icicles hanging off of you and you must trust that there is enough warmth within you to endure it. You have to be willing to do the hard work of loving first and risking not being loved in return. Sadly, this will happen to you. You will hurt and you will weep and you will want to not love anymore. And then you will love and someone will love you back and you will forget that you swore to never love again. Love scares the shit out of so many people. Love didn’t hurt us. Love never hurt us. Hurt people who didn’t know how to love us hurt us. Love did not hurt us. We, being hurt people ourselves, hurt people. Love did not do the damage that hurt people blame love for. Hurt people hurt people. (Lyric from one of my favorite songs…just escaped me which song and by whom…I apologize). We must know this so that we stopped blaming love and shying away from love. We must go toward the love. At all costs, we must go toward the love.

At the cemetery yesterday in bone chilling winds, my tears burned my face. The grass…the headstone…the whole fucking world was cold. My heart though…my heart was warm. As I drove off and pulled around to leave, there was a woman collapsed by a grave near my moms…sobbing and weeping and the shiver and tremor and pain ran through my very soul. My heart cracked and I sobbed for her. I sent her all of my love as I left her there to do what I have done so many times before…allow her to break and to pull herself back up in her time. I fucking loved that woman…right there…right then…I loved her through her enormous grief and I love her still and I do not even know her name. We do not have to know names and details that are none of our business anyway, do we? We do not. We can love another because we feel them so deeply that we cannot not know that we are them and they are us. Umbuntu. I am because you are. Do we not fall in love every day with pieces of our fractured selves that we cannot escape or heal…places that we don’t even recognize as our own when we see them in another? When I felt that woman sobbing on her knees on the very soil that I have soaked with my own tears so, so many times before…I did not need to know her name or for whom she cried. I only knew that I fucking loved her with all of my heart. We are here to love.

I woke this morning crying in my sleep, as the impending doom of December 3rd hit me in my heart center, my gut…my very fucking soul. Tomorrow at 12:06pm, three years ago…as I held my mothers hand, and she opened her eyes one last time, squeezed my hand and took her final breath…my Mom launched out of her body and soars above, around, within us all. I carried my mom home…just as my mom carried me in. My mom had a lifetime to look forward to in those tiny and yet unopened eyes and my time ran out as I placed my hands over her eyes and closed them one last time. Time does run out. We don’t do things because we don’t know how and so we just don’t. I can promise you this…I didn’t know how to lose my mom or how to follow that fucking hearse into those cemetery gates and to leave without her. I didn’t know how to do that and my mom wasn’t here to tell me how to do that and I did it. My mom left her body and then we had to leave her body there and what in the fuck is that?! Truly…who knows how to do that?! No one knows how to do that and so we do the best we can and we rely upon those who love us to help us to figure it out. That is love. Being in love is just that…being, in action…love…for someone…for yourself…be in love. You’ve only two choices…love or fear. We have been taught and programmed to fear…and yet we are love. I am. You are. We are love.

Sherry wants you to call your Mom…your Dad…your husband…your brother…your sister…your wife…your kids…your best friend…your grandparents…your neighbor…Sherry hates texting and she insists that you must call someone whom you say that you cannot live without. Not your husband in the next room. Give me a good honest reach here for someone that for whatever reason, you have been afraid to reach out to…afraid to call…call them now. My Mom and I are okay and we will always be okay. I’ve no regrets. Not a single one. My moms dying words to me, as were often her words in life to me, “Leave me alone.” And I did not leave her alone. Thank God that once again I did not listen to her!!! I did not leave her alone. I stayed by her side and I loved her home. You can do that too you know…what you want…what you need…you can do that too. If you want to call your mom…call her. If you are afraid to make that call, definitely make that call. I promise you that if you don’t make that call, you will run out of time to make that call and then you will wish you had made the fucking call. Your time will run out and your wishing you had done it will be for you to deal with in your grief. Don’t do that to you. Trust me…make the call. Hear her voice. Tell her thank you. Tell her you love her. One day there will be a phone with her number still in it that no longer connects to her. Her voice will begin to fade from your mind…your texts will have been lost in phone upgrades and you will be on your fucking knees wishing you could just talk to her one last time. I can’t. You can. Do me a favor and call her, okay?

Done and fucking done and it feels so good!

Good morning everyone. I will be really honest with you this morning. I am not in a good space. My heart hurts. I am sick of fucking waking up like this. I am tired. My reality is what it is and my experience of it right now fucking sucks for me. That is who I write about…me. My experiences  and how I feel. I am not only hurting a lot, I am mending a lifetime of fucking abuse and delusion. Delusions of fucking grandeur and so it’s taking me a bit for it to all sink in.

I will begin by saying that I love my Dad and my little Brother more than you can possibly fucking imagine. I love my mom so much that I have spent three years in literal hell since her passing. My love for my family, the three of them, is unfucking matched. Probably fair to say that it’s been unhealthy, co-dependent and strained at times, with all three of them. My Mother is dead. My father is re-married and I am happy for him and for Cheryll. I won’t claim to know Cheryll, as we have only just met. Cheryll has been wonderful to me and kind to me during my body and my life falling apart. Cheryll is sorting through Sherry with my dad and she seems to make my Dad happy. Anyone who will sit with someone and help someone to sort through a lifetime of someone else’s things…anyone who will hold another through that is good in my book. I love Cheryll and I believe that Cheryll loves me. So, just to clear any misunderstanding up that may exist, I am not at war with my Dad. I do not dislike and never have disliked Cheryll. I love my little brother. I love my mom. I wasn’t not at my dads wedding because he was marrying someone other than my mom. I’m not sure where that load of horseshit came from…possibly and probably even, out of my fathers own mouth. Maybe that is how my dad heard it. Here is the truth, just to set things straight (and I never fucking do that);

My mom and dad and I journeyed very closely together for most of my adult life. The three of us just got along and enjoyed going to Vegas and happy hour and lunch and dinner. My mom made me choose between she and my Dad and my relationships with women, as they were not welcome (they, my lovers, partners, girlfriends) in our home. When they were, I had to promise that we were just friends. I choose my parents a lot more than I care to admit, over amazing women in my life simply because it didn’t feel like a choice at all. The choice had been made and unless I was willing to lie, they were not welcome. I honestly never did not choose my Mom, not until Tamara. I won’t lie, that was a bit strained too. My mom was often very unkind to me, and Tamara wasn’t silent about it like everyone before her. My mom respected Tamara for it and was only able to leave this world because Tamara had me. So, don’t hear me wrong…I love my mom. I always have and I always will. The woman was not kind to me. She was down right fucking mean to me and many of you know that because you witnessed it too. I do not love her any less but god damnit it hurts to love someone who hurt me so fucking deeply. It is hard to re-live Groundhog Day every fucking day. It fucking destroyed me and it still does, how that woman treated me and he contempt she often had for me. Do I love her just the same? You bet your sweet fucking ass that I do and I always will. My life though and my experience of my life…my life has always fucking hurt me.

So, with that being said, no one ever defended me. No one. Not my Dad. Not my little brother. Not my extended family. Not me, a lot of the time. When I did, it never ended well although it did end my mom talking to me at all, for days on end. I do not say this to dishonor my mom or my dad or my little brother or my family. I say this because it is my experience of my life, and my life has hurt me a lot. My blog is so fucking edited about my own life and I’m pretty done doing that. I still keep silent as to not say something bad or inappropriate about people. My truth may  hurt people and that is not my intent. In fact, let me just say now that I’ve no intent to hurt anyone or to dishonor my mom or my dad or my brother. I will however, not be silent. There could not be a person anywhere that has loved the three of them more than me. My mom knew that. My dad knows that. Shawn once knew that. I don’t know what Shawn knows about that anymore. As far as I know, They don’t read my blog, except my mom, who helps me to have the courage to write it, especially blogs like this where I speak MY truth even as my voice is fucking shaking. My dad and I and Cheryll and I and Shawn and I and JiSan and I are good, as far as I know. We are family by name and not in action, at least not the same action that “family” has always been in my life.

Since my mom died, so did Thanksgiving and Christmas. No one in our family called me up and invited me over for Thanksgiving dinner. No one. Nor Christmas. My Birthday was a big deal to my mom and without her, my Birthday has become void and painful. So, my family, dysfunctional as it may have been, that I have known and never really been a part of, for my entire fucking life is gone, with very few exceptions. Those exceptions are priceless and you know who you are and you are now my chosen family. Those of you who are family by blood or marriage, who have my same last name or don’t who have always loved me, I know who you are and you know who you are too, and I fucking love you. The rest of you, who call yourself family, who use that as some sort of fucking hold on me and do and have never done anything to love me like a verb or nurture me, here is a newsflash…you are not my family. Three years my mom has been gone and we’ve not celebrated a holiday since. You’ve not called me or reached out to me or loved me once…Sherry’s precious little daughter, since she fucking died. So, don’t bother. Truly, I am living with it and have been my whole life. Now you can live without it. I am done being “family” and not being family at all. I expect to see my “friends” list drop some more and I invite you to leave if you’ve never really been here at all anyway. I do not need the hurt of being where I am not wanted…where I do not belong and where I am not accepted. No hard feelings. No need to keep on keeping on at something that never was anyway.

I will write my story. You can read it or not. This is my blog, for me, for us all. I do not have any intention of harming anyone ever with what I write. I will not be silent anymore though. I will not pretend anymore. I will not attend funerals anymore of people who have been dead to me my whole life. I wish you all well. I really, really do. I also bid you farewell so that I may be Coral and not who all of you tried to shame me into being. Same thing with my “friends”…truly. If we aren’t, then we aren’t. If we are, then let’s be. This facade is killing my fucking soul and so I cut it loose and take this mask of.

My blog is my blog and my Facebook wall is my wall. I write and I post what I fucking want to post. If you don’t like it, don’t fucking look at it. Don’t come on my wall and fucking ridicule me for who and what I like. Fuck off man, truly…just fuck off. Have I ever come on to your page, ever, and spewed my shit?

Lady Gaga isn’t a fucking vegan! Distasteful and raw and uncouth. Meat suits and furs and no I’m not impressed. None of my fucking business to call the woman names because she isn’t me and doesn’t live as I do or see what I see. Lady Gaga is an amazing actress and an amazing song writer and musician and preformer. For all that she is not, there is much that she is. For all of you with your filthy words and judgement of her on my page, check yourself. Is your favorite musician vegan? Is your favorite actress vegan? Do you listen to the music of people who are not in alignment with your values? Do you drive a car? Do you have a laptop or a cell phone? If you answered  “yes” to any of these questions, then you’re not so vegan yourself. Live and let live. Go sweep your own side of the street and kind your own fucking business and stop trolling pages to start fucking controversy. Just shut the fuck up and go work in you. Lady Gaga doesn’t give a fuck what you think anyway. The woman is a human being, being human, just like you and me. Unlike many of us, she is doing something. Be the fucking change and stop trying to change others.

Am I upset? You bet your ass I’m upset. To live in a family, in a world with such potential, who refuses to embrace and love me for who I am…I am fucking devastated. I have been devastated for my whole fucking life by people who do not love me one fucking fraction of how much I love them. Love me like you fucking mean it, like a verb, or please step away from me and let me find my tribe. If you are not my tribe, please step aside, stand down…move over…get the fuck out of the way, because I’ve big work to do. Making me small did not make you big and it did not make me small either. You have no idea what greatness I am, what greatness I have always fucking been.

This is the last moment that I associate myself with anyone who does not treat me like someone. Your hatefulness and emptiness and bitterness…your blame and your unaccountability…your abusiveness and dismissiveness…your lies and your inadequacy in the face of your own mirror…you deal with yours and I’ll deal with mine. And so it is.

As always, I write to heal myself and I take what I need and leave the rest, as I encourage you to do the same.

My closing prayer;

Thank you for the lessons as they become obvious blessings. Thank you for my Dad and please help me to release my expectations of the past of him, that we may find our new path forward together in love and light…in honesty and truth…as Daddy’s girl for always. Please continue to guide my love and my path with Cheryll. Please always keep my little brother safe and content. Please bless JiSan and let her feel my love. Please help me to be discerning when assembling my tribe. Please let me be forgiving as all things not for my highest good fall away from me. Please allow me only the option of being kind as I release my need to be right. Please bless everyone in loving abundance for their place on my journey. Please show me the way and lead me out of the darkness and into the light. As those who no longer belong here fall away and leave my space, please protect my heart, and give me comfort in knowing that it is time. Please give them comfort and protect their hearts also. Please remind me that it is the quality and not the quantity of the people and the things in my life that matter. Please use me as an instrument to do your work and speak your word, even when and especially when my voice shakes. May I always, in always be in abundant and heartfelt gratitude. As abundance unfolds around me and the past falls away from me, I step forward for my assignment. I come forth and I thank you for bringing me to this place. Please always protect Tamara and our tribe, our animals and the land and beings we guardian for you. Please keep the Sanctuary in sanctity and peace at all times and protect those who enter and reside here, that it always, in all ways be protected as sacred land and treated as such. And so it is, in your name. Amen.

Be kind and you will always be right…

Good morning everyone and happy Saturday! Happy for me indeed, as I am coming back into my life and my health and my strength. Yesterday was A very good day, working in the woods with my girl and then continuing my purge. What an absolutely amazing experience this has been for me. What in the fuck am I doing with all of these things? Thank you Mom  for the lesson and the reminder and the help sorting through all of our things. I offer all of my love and gratitude to each and every thing that I parted with. Thank you for your place in my journey and for your service. Sending you with love and light to your next destination. I love you. Thank you. Please forgive me. I’m sorry.

I had many trips down memory lane and a lot of sightseeing and detouring, as I gave away over half of what I had, to be introduced to who I am. I know I am not quite done yet. I know I will never be done, as it is a practice to be mindful to not recreate old patterning, by acquiring more things that I do not need. I grew up learning what I came to know as my way of life. I mimicked a lot of what I saw and I rebelled heavily against much of it, to no avail. Here is an attempt to explain why that is:

We all grow up knowing what we learn at home, in school and in church and social activities. We mimic the actions  and behavior of others to gain favor and approval. In our hearts and very often in our gut, we know the difference between who we are and who we are being to be loved and accepted. We know instinctively, right from wrong and good from bad, love from fear. Almost instantaneous though, as we come out of the birth canal, we begin to learn what others know. We begin to mimic the behaviors of others. In my case, that was my Mom and Dad and our extended family, for the most part. I learned by watching and I played it back. Ironically, my playback got vetoed and rejected and scrutinized over and over and over again, by the very people who modeled it. Only did the negative feedback cease when the negative input stopped. I am not who they say I am. I am not who they told me to be. I am not who they told me not to be. I am learning who I am and I am not from where I came. I am completely made up of pieces of from where I came. I am becoming who I am, not because of who they were, rather I am becoming who I came here to be. I did not come here to be drunk. I did not come here to be abusive. I did not come here to be abused. I did not come here to hurt you. I did not come here to hurt me. Wait…wait a moment…I did come here to be and to do all of those things. Those things are exactly what brought me to this healing room with you. We are each right where we belong. We know this and yet we doubt this. We know it in our hearts and we feel it in our gut. We intuitively know what we allow others to cause us to doubt, simply because they do not know what we know.

We really are just here to walk each other home. We are here to be of service. We are here to be love. It really is that simple. We fuck it all up and make it so complicated, don’t we? Be kind and you will always be right. Try it out and you will know that I speak the truth. Have you met Coral though? I am not always kind. I lose my fucking shit and some of you have witnessed that, haven’t you? Some of you have been whom I lost my shit on, aren’t you? I am perfectly flawed and fucked up, just like you. Truly, look at us and the people we have hurt. Have any of you hurt your own children? Have you hurt their little feelings and crushed their little hearts? Did you ever wonder why you did that? Why do you hurt the people that you love the very most? You hurt people because you are a hurt people. Hurt people hurt people. Be the change. Be kind, no matter what. Try it out and let me know how your life opens up with your heart. Don’t take my word for it…in fact, if you must,doubt me and go out there and attempt to prove me wrong….and Ram Dass and Wayne Dyer and countless others…be kind and you will always be right.

I am headed out to spread some love and practice being kind, no matter what. I love you and I send you a day full of love and a heart ready to receive it. Take what you need and pass the rest on to someone else who needs it . My love supply is limitless so sprinkle that shit everywhere you go! I will replenish you. I promise. Go out there and get loving!!!

I come to the garden alone…

Sitting silent in the garden with my Mom. I am at peace. I am grateful. I am blessed.

My prayers have been answered. I am on a warriors path and my time to rise up is upon us. I, much like Nahko, am gathering the nations. Nahko has been my musical medicine from the start. Thank you Nahko. My mentor in poetry and truth and musical medicine and someone I feel honored to have met in Denver in December. If you’ve not googled this guy, take a moment  for yourself and look him up. Nahko and Medicine For The People. I have never been inspired, moved or healed more by music than that of Nahko. Thank you Nahko for paving the way and for the love and inspiration. I love you! My FJ Cruiser is the Nahko Medicinemobile and my Sanctuary . I spend a lot of time with you there my Brother.

Authors and teachers…ministers and coaches…colleagues and competitors…those here in body and those who have shed their bodies…friends and adversaries…family and acquaintances…next of kin and neighbors…community and compassion circles…doctors and patients…Reiki and her servants, more often called Master. I am because you are. Umbuntu.

My Mom left the garden before me this afternooon and I was not so sad, as I know she is always right next to me in some form. Be it a butterfly or a hummingbird…the sun and the moon…a breeze or a whisper…a moment or a memory. My Mom shed a body that she was way too big for. We shall all do the same some day. We are all dying, every moment, for we are not here for always. We are here now and that is all we have…this moment.

One of my Moms all time favorite songs was “The Garden”. We sang it with her in church and she sang it to us as kids and we played it at her funeral. I thought you might enjoy the lyrics, so here you go:

 

 

The Garden

I come to the garden alone,

While the dew is still on the roses,

And the voice I hear falling on my ear,

The Son of God discloses…

And He walks with me, and He talks with me,

And He tells me I am His own,

And the joy we share as we tarry there,

None other, has ever, known!

He speaks and the sound of His voice,

Is so sweet the birds hush their singing,

And the melody that he gave to me,

Within my heart is ringing . . .

And He walks with me, and He talks with me,

And He tells me I am His own,

And the joy we share as we tarry there,

None other, has ever, known!

And the joy we share as we tarry there,

None other, has ever, known!

 

Words and Music by C. Austin Miles, 1912

 

God is in is. We are in God. We are God. We must understand that before we will ever understand ourselves. “I will give you an orange to show me where God is.”..to an Avatar. The Avatar, in response says, “I will give you two oranges if you show me where God is not”. Thank you Dr. Wayne Dyer and Neale Donald Walsch and Ram Dass for the inspiration and the beauty and delivery of your words, in language I can appreciate understand. I love you!

Have a beautiful evening everyone. I love you.

 

Fighting the good fight…

Good morning everyone! Welcome to the healing room. I began blogging in December of 2017, as a daily commitment to myself. What began and what is evolving…I could not possibly have imagined. My blog became our blog and this became our healing room. We come here to heal together. I began to worry about my content a bit…honestly because there is some hard fucking stuff to read. I didn’t want to make you all sad and sick and worried and I started to pull back a bit. And then I stopped and remembered what this blog was in the first place…this blog is a commitment to myself, evolved into a journey for us all. I want to remind you to take what you need from it and leave the rest. If it fuels you and feeds you, then drink it all in. If it is too much and it pains you more than it helps you, skip that day. I can only write from heart center and some days for me, that is fucking pain staking. Some days I have a difficult time writing at all. Some days, it flows and inspires us all. Whatever day it is, I love you and I am so glad you are here. I thank you so much for sharing in my journey and for being on this crazy ride with me.

I am finding that my solitude is most comfortable for me right now. My inward space is my cozy space. I try to venture out and find myself stuttering and stammering and feeling really awkward. I am flighty and ungrounded in all of this pain and I feel anxious a lot and like I just want to lie down…right here, right now…don’t care where…I just need to fucking lie down. So, all of these not so Coral things that are going on with Coral are a bit much for Coral, if that makes any sense at all.

My malas and my meditation, my reading and writing…beginning to draw again…my quite time in prayer and my solitude…quiet time with Tamara and our beautiful companions…that is where I feel the most okay. Reading is my new hunger and I am satisfying these cravings with amazing books loaned to me. These books are aligned with my purpose and I am so thankful for the time I have with them. I have been gifted so much in the words I am reading, the insights and realizations. I carry these books around with me and I crave the moments I can sit quietly and learn some more. This has never been a common Coral practice, unless it’s a Dr. Seuss book…and then I have been fucking enamored!

I am teaching myself new things and taking pleasure when I practice enough to actually do them well. I am moving forward with what is needed to heal me so that I can have the life I have imagined. I am in relationship with the most amazing partner, who is here in the good times and all of the very hard times. I finally know I am home and that I will not be discarded like trash when she is done with me, because she will never be done with me and I am not trash. I can be me, even though both of us are stunned at who that person is sometimes. I can fall apart for years on end and she still loves me.

I am finding and assembling my tribe and I can tell you that the people I would have imagined would be coming forth are not. The people who have fallen away have been some of my deepest loves and my “forever” people, and they still are, only now, they are gone forever. Not exactly how I imagined my forever with them and the pain of that is beginning to dissipate a bit finally.

My Mom, gone from my sight. Yesterday, as I was about to flail into convulsions of pain and misery and hopelessness, she came as a white butterfly and stayed with me a spell, until I could smoke myself into a calm and relaxedish state again. My medication, the smoke that brings me down enough to breathe again… filled my lungs and my body and renewed my spirit a bit so that I could remain upright. I left before she could fly away because I just could not stand to see her leave me again.

My jaw has been dislocated this time for just over a week and I cannot get it back in myself, so I am off to see the most amazing and kind and compassionate chiropractor in all of the land, to tape my fucking face back together. I admitted hitting someone in the face, and I relayed how that felt for me. I too have been struck in my face, enough to break my right jaw. I can relay how this feels too. For as long as I can remember, my right jaw hurt. In massage school I was getting the worst headaches and they wouldn’t resolve. My instructor, Gurabhai, worked intently on me to some relief and yet the headaches were worsening. I went to my chiropractor and it was discovered for the first time, that my jaw was completely dislocated out of its socket. Thank God, was able to get my jaw back in the socket and then tape it into place every morning before my internship, so that I could graduate on time. I am blessed that when I called this morning she is getting me in to tape me back together.

So…with that I will close for this morning. I hope you have a beautiful and blessed day. I am off to get some relief so that I may show up for my pelvic injections tomorrow morning….as much as I am not wanting to go, I am so thankful that my surgeon and I have come back together and hand in hand on my journey to wellness. It is never too late to do the work to live the life you have imagined. Let’s get building, shall we?

All of my prayers for my MRI today to reveal the cause of my pain…

Good morning everyone! Still blogging along. I began blogging every day in December. I made a 365 commitment to myself, to blog every single day. I am so glad I did. Some days getting here is hard. Today, getting here is hard. I feel really scattered. The fatigue from the constant and unrelenting pain, coupled with the fatigue of no sleep is catching up to me a bit. I just want to be well.

I was browsing through Facebook yesterday and I saw some people that I don’t talk to anymore…people who don’t talk to me anymore. I’m not even sure who isn’t talking to who in some situations. I have been sitting with that and how odd it feels. Pictures of my Mom…of my family pop up and it all seems a million fucking years ago. Pictures of some of you…a million fucking years ago.

Seeing pictures of my Mom sitting next to me smiling…some days, on the best days, she still is. Maybe a hummingbird or a butterfly…maybe a flash of her face through my tears. Maybe her high heels clicking against the tile and maybe her eyes rolling as I speak. My minds eye and my heart seek her out. Some days screaming at the top of our fucking lungs. The primal cry…the primal pain of separation, being ripped umbilically and torn in two, as I stood over her casket. We do not know this pain, until we know this pain. Once we know this pain, the pain of losing the woman who carried us into this world…we are changed. No matter who you are, and however you lose your Mom, even if she gave you away…there is no separation like that of a child losing their Mom. I felt pain before. I hurt deeply before. I never hurt like I hurt the moment my Moms heart stopped beating. I knew…I could not, not know, in that very moment, that part of me died right there with her. Part of me stopped right then and right there…my heart, my life, my knowing…it all just fucking stopped. My Mom was ready to go and I understand that…I really, really do. I am glad she didn’t stay and suffer anymore. I will tell you this though, I still don’t know how to lose her. I still don’t know what the fuck to do without her. I have my MRI today and my Dad is coming to be with me. I am grateful and thankful and I know I will put my Mom in the bathroom, waiting in the other room, waiting in the car…because something in me can not bear for her to not be there too today too. I cannot explain it. I cannot say why it is so, only that it is so, at least for me, when I am feeling sick, I miss my Mom. I have been really sick and I am not getting well, anymore than my Mom will be in that waiting room when I go in and when I come out today. It is more than missing someone, it is as though this pain in my umbilicus is worsened by the severed connection and the complete disregard for me…the absence and the loss…Hurting in my belly button so much that I am nauseous, a lot, I cannot help but miss my Mom. I cannot not be aware of all that is no longer there…all that is broken there…all that has no answer or explanation there, in my tiny belly button.

I am not scared and yet I am feeling anxious. I am putting all of my prayers into finding the source of ALL of this pain in today’s imaging. I am praying that imagining is recorded as mine and handled with the utmost care and consideration for my fractured fucking psyche, from being handled by people who didn’t see me at all or care enough about me enough to be present. Maybe my body looks like every other fucking body that you see every day and maybe I can’t tolerate the pain enough for that “Handle With Care” tatty I’ve been meaning to get since my surgery. Or the “Fragile” or “Be Here Now” tattoos that you have inspired by your disregard and absence when you went inside me. Maybe being inside me isn’t a big deal at all to you…I think you really ought to know that anyone being inside of me, for any reason at all, is a big fucking deal. Oh wait, I did tell you that. I cried as I told you that, and you still didn’t fucking see me. You dropped me and let me shatter and you never looked back, did you? Not except to cover your ass, did you ever look back to check on me after everything you did and didn’t do to take care of me, your patient, under your care. Your ass…the one that I speak ambiguously and yet openly about, the one that shows, much more than your heart. As I struggle to get well, to find out what is wrong and to address the pain that you didn’t address, pain that your absence caused and keeps on causing…I notice your absence. Today, as I have to go have more imaging, I know you are not thinking about me and praying as hard as I am, that Tamara is or that my family and friends are that we find what is wrong today, so we can make it right again. Maybe you are…for different reasons, maybe not…either way, I am praying for you and for everyone who you put your hands on, that you be fucking mindful, mindful as fuck…that you fucking show up and be present, stay present…give two fucking shits, about the person whose life you have great potential to destroy in your absence inside of them. We do not need…people like me, with PTSD, do not need people like you making our already difficult lives more difficult, because you don’t rwally care about us.

In this moment, I bring my world to a slow and steady still. I breathe with intention to stay mindful and present. I pray for today’s imaging to be the imaging we need to clearly and without difficulty, to see what is causing the pain in my pelvic, posterior region and my post op umbilical and pain in my pubic area. I pray that this imaging is so clear and that treatment for it is so clear, that we can schedule immediately and without haste to get me well. I place my faith and my trust in my PCP to help me to make me better. I am not well. I pray, with all of my heart, to be well. If you are so inclined, please pray for me to be well.

Thank you for being here today. I love you and I hope you have a beautiful day. I am going to see a couple of clients before my MRI this afternoon. Please keep me in your heart and mind your prayers. I love you and thank you so much!

I love you Honey La Bronx!!!!!

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Good morning everyone! I hope you are all having a good morning so far. I am sorry I didn’t blog much yesterday. My physical body is struggling and my psyche has taken a bit of a hit through all of this post op recovery. Enough of all of that! I’ve some love to spill over all of you on this day!

Have you ever met someone who inspired you so much that you just knew you could do it too? I mean, just watching this person gives you strength and drive and momentum…and fuel for the journey? I met such a person over the weekend, and her name is Honey La Bronx.

I dedicate this blog, with my deepest and sincerest thanks to Honey, for a life altering weekend. I was not sure how to grow into who I am meant to be, and I was pretty concerned that I wouldn’t figure it out in time, so that I can do the most I can to help others, in as many ways as I can. Meeting Honey was the reminder I needed to just fucking do it! Whatever it is…do it! Amateur drag king…don’t think about it for long enough to talk yourself out of it…just fucking do it Coral…and so I did…and what an experience!

Honey came to Albuquerque for a drag show at Effex Nightclub, and Tamara and I hosted her here at Santuario de Karuna. Plant Powered Events, thank you so much for bringing Honey to Albuquerque! Honey, thank you so much for coming to Albuquerque and for spending your time and love with us!

I love you Honey. Truly, I haven’t met someone so inspiring and so real and authentic and true, in a very long time. I don’t really have words, just yet, for how you have touched my life. You are a beautiful and absolutely amazing human being and I thank you, from the bottom of my heart for the light you shed, the love you brought and for helping me to smile again.

All too often, we hold these things in our hearts, instead of sharing them with the people who change our lives. I just want to say that my heart is full and my life is forever brightened and changed and blessed by this beautiful and amazing human being…Honey La Bronx.

My Mom was also a Queen and I loved being with her again, just by being here with you! I felt her close and happy and fulfilled in your dressing room and I saw her smile again. I felt her happy and whole and doing what she loved so much…being the queen! Thank you so much for that time with my Mom, walking next to you.

My world is a little brighter and my load feels a little lighter. My faith in humanity is a little stronger and my drive is a lot higher. My smile broke through the pain finally. Who knew, that being authentic could break through so many barriers so quickly.

I love you Honey and I just want you to know that you have forever changed my life. Thank you for the beauty you brought into our world, for your love and support of all of the Animals. Our time with you was nothing short of epic!

I just want to say it again…I love you Honey! Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. We hope to see you again very, very soon!

Have a beautiful day everyone! If you haven’t, check out our friend Honey at Honeylabronx.com

Thank you Honey for opening up my world! Did I say that I love you already? Just in case I didn’t…I love you Honey!!!

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Honeylabronx.com

An update on my medical situation, for those of you following…and my hardest post ever turned EASY with love…

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Good morning everyone! I begin again with this blog post that I’ve honestly not the right words to write. I am more concerned that I have the energy in alignment with my own soul, than the “right” words.So…second day out of the gate and I did not wake up at 5:00am to blog, as I had committed to. I want to be honest with you about my last two weeks. I’ve not been dishonest, although I have been vague. I have been vague, to be honest, because I have no words. I have words…plenty of words…I haven’t known which ones to use. I will say it has been a mother fucking doozie! So, an update on my medical situation, for those of you following.

I tell you my medical update story now, for those of you following. This may not be one of my highest vibrating blog posts, and I will see what I can do to keep it high, as I relay my experience of the last few weeks of my life. Please keep in mind, as always, that this is my blog. I write to get it all out, and when you see what “it all” is…I am sure you can understand why I need to purge it the fuck out of me. I write about my life experience and I write, only to heal myself. I send all that does not serve me back to the universe to be recycled for the greatest good of us all. I mean no harm in telling my story, not to me or to anyone else. My immediate family and any reference I make to them is fairly obvious, and so I am very dedicated to exercising decorum and keeping my story mine. With that being said, one plus one still does equal two. If you are good at math, you might figure things out or conclude things that I have chosen, for reasons of my own, to be ambiguous about. I am not good at math and even I can do this math. Good thing that I fucking hate math and this is not math class…this is Corals blog…and today, I may say some things that hurt or offend you. I will say some shocking things in this blog today. Today’s blog will be a mother fucking doozie and WAY too much truth for people who cannot really see me. For those of you who cannot feel me, this may be like every other blog, and yet, I doubt it, because you do feel me, don’t you? I feel you too, which is why I put a warning on this blog post, right here, so you can stop reading now and call it a day, if you do feel me. If you feel me, this blog will hurt you and upset you, and I just want you to know, before you keep reading…if you love Sam and if you love Coral, this one is going to hurt you. Fair enough?

With all of that being said, I am going to write about my experience of the surgery I have blogged so much about, until I went silent. My silence, truly, for those of you who know me well, only takes over, when I simply cannot speak of it. I begin by thanking my medical team for all of they have done for me and continue to do for me. Doctors are practicing medicine. I know that, so well, as all of us, no matter our profession, we are practicing every single day, every procedure…we are practicing. Doctors practice medicine. So, with that being said, I will suffice to say that I hope we all learned a lot. We are all just walking each other home and sometimes, we will stumble. It matters not that we stumbled, only that we get back up.

As many of you know, I have some very serious PTSD. I am actually diagnosed with CPTSD. I am a survivor and I have some issues. Fuck, this girl has back issues! Touching me is not a luxury that most people get. I am closed up tight. My body, and my psyche…my very soul…fractured in ways that most people will never be able to comprehend. My body, harmed. My spirit tarnished and getting polished every single day.

I don’t get routine Paps. I don’t get colonoscopies and mammograms. I cannot be put in stirrups. You cannot stick your hand or even your pinky finger in,  when my body clamps shut. You can’t talk me or walk me or force me through this. I have forced me and Sam through this and not only does it not end well, it causes me to teeter of of my mother fucking rails. I want to be clear when I say that I cannot, not that I will not, be a “normal” person and walk into an OBGYN and get ‘er done. I cannot do this…not paps, not pelvic procedures and not “let’s just take a look see”…not this girl.

Pain in my abdominal and pelvic area, bordering my rectal area became intolerable, and so Sam and I had to make some hard decisions. Can we live with our pain ranging in our scale, which is off the charts for most? If we cannot, and we could not, live with the pain in our ass and our pelvic area, we have to let someone else help us.

I called a dear friend of mine, one of my very, very dearest friends. I was broken. I asked her to help me and together, we made calls and assembled medical teams to assist me on my road to health and becoming pain free. Countless calls, insurance calls and doctors calls and visits and procedures…Sam and I, with much love and support from Tamara, stepped up to this challenge.

Two weeks ago, we submitted and we showed up at The hospital, ready…as ready as we would ever be…to heal this pain. I had to be sedated to be put under anesthesia. I had to go back, by myself. I did it! Sam and I got in that gurney, naked and scared, agitated and alone….scared and hyperventilating…our voice shaking and tears pouring from our eyes…we closed our eyes tight  and we prayed. We said thank you. We asked God to guide the surgeon and her team, that we be mended. After what felt like a long time, we left where we were.

I remember seeing my surgeon, and she was happy and smiling. My anesthesiologist was wonderful. The nurse was compassionate and kind and double checked all of my meds to be sure they were vegan and wouldn’t cause me further complications. My nurse in the room was gentle and kind. My friends, the closest I have, and my girl, all waiting for me in the OR waiting room. All was as good as it could be and so off we went.

I remember nothing, except that I was back in that room and I kept crying in pain and asking for Tamara. For a really long time, I was hurting and no Tamara. I heard a series of phone calls, in which a patient had not been discharged. Several More pages and calls and that Doctor had left the building…could someone please come discharge this patient, as her doctor has left the building? That patient was me and that doctor that left the building, was my doctor. The pain was Intolerable, and time was passing slowly, as they waited for someone else to discharge me. They got me up to urinate, which was a green light to get to go home. I asked to stay overnight from the get go, so that I would not be cathetered and so that They could address any complications. My Doctor has said she would admit me if she needed to and on that morning, she said I would definitely not be admitted. Tamara and I panicked a bit. We live far away. I’m a lot to handle when Sam is clear and present. We accepted that we were going to have to figure it out, and we have figured it out, the best that we can.

The nurse in the room came back in and told me that Tamara said I would be cold, and she was right. Kindly, she rubbed my feet and helped me to warm up. I asked again for Tamara and she said I would see her soon. I told her I was hurting, really hard, and she got the anesthesiologist to come talk to me. He was also kind and injected  somthing into my IV for pain. When I peed, before those pain meds hit me , I thought I was going to fucking die. I peed though, so I could go home. That’s what they said and that’s what I did.

Finally, my nurse, went and got my clothes and got me dressed. He was very gentle and kind. I was handed my pain ball, in a little fanny pack, and told that it would do its job, and I need not worry. This pain ball would administer my pain meds for several days and I could supplement with oral meds that I had already picked up from the pharmacy. With my pain ball in hand, and hurting like fuck, off we rode to get my girl.

My surgery was Tuesday morning. I was sent home, with my pain ball. My pain was high, very, very high. I medicated orally. My understanding was that I was in to get pelvic injections, to stop the pain that I came in for. As a trauma victim, high on the CPTSD chart, in times like these, I came in to stop the pain. Extensive measures had to be taken, as I cannot have those injections, in my pelvic floor, in a regular office visit, like the lady before me or the ten coming in after me. I had to be under anesthesia, for this routine procedure, and so I was.

My pain running consistently at 9-15, my family history of cancer and my Mom dying at 66 of stage four breast cancer, bumped me to the top of every fucking list, to get me some help. It was decided, since we were going to have to poke and prod and inject and biopsy, and I’ve had nothing but pain and issues with my girlie parts since I began menstruating at 12 years old, we would do a full hysterectomy. While under anesthesia, my doctor would do a full spay on me, ovaries, tubes, everything, do injections to my pelvic floor, to stop the pain I came in for and scrape any remaining scar tissue, from my childhood sexual trauma. When I woke up, my cervix, uterus…all of it and all of the trauma that goes with it, would be neatly wrapped and sent back to the universe for the greater good of us all. I prayed. I meditated. I had faith and so it was.

By Friday afternoon, after two or three calls to my Doctor, Because my pain was not being managed and my pain ball didn’t seem to be getting lighter, since Tuesday when I came home, we called my doctor again. Every call before, we were advised to turn it up until it started to ease the pain. I was sent home on four and we were up to 12 on he last call. On that last call, it was determined, as Tamara unzipped my fanny pack, to examine the situation, with my doctor on the line, that the clamp on my pain ball had never been unclamped or removed. I had no pain relief and the ball was not lighter, because my pain ball was never unclamped after surgery. I almost hit the fucking floor…I cannot lie…I was in so much pain and Mother fucking defeated. We were advised, on this same call, with my doctor To unclamp the pain ball now and to let it run, and get my pain under control. Again, surgery was on Tuesday and this is Friday at 3:00pm…and I am not fucking crazy! I really did hurt. That fucking bad. Tamara unclamped the ball and I laid back down. I felt like shit and I was so fucking bummed out, so we began again.

At 2:00am, in excruciating pain and nauseous, with my pain ball in one hand, I headed to the bathroom. I was pretty sure I was about to have the BM they spoke of…my first BM since she did bowel prep for my surgery. I don’t even know that the fuck that means, just that she said that on my intake paperwork. Don’t strain, don’t push. Take your stool softeners and your milk of magnesia. I did all of that and I was ready. Nauseous and dizzy and the buzzing in my brain and my ears, wobbly and disoriented, I headed down our hall to take my long awaited shit. Holy fuck did that hurt! I didn’t push and I didn’t squeeze. And I was…wait….yep….grab something….I started puking my fucking guts out, on the toilet, in our trash can. I grabbed my stomach and all of my newly sewn together guts and I just grabbed on for dear life, praying that I wouldn’t bust anything open.

I got myself back together, crying and scared to death. I made it back to our bed and told Tamara what happened. We were both so fucking exhausted from it all, we fell back asleep. When I awoke a few hours later, I was so fucking sick and sore and we looked down again, at the pain ball. My pain ball ran at 12, instead of 4, for almost 11 hours straight. We turned it down to 4, as soon as we saw it. I had overdosed. I felt like I was going to die, well probably because I almost fucking did die. From no pain meds to an OD on pain meds and I was D&D (Done and done).

I texted my doctor and asked if I could pull my own catheter and get that pain ball out ASAP. This was Saturday morning and she said I could, and maybe wait until Sunday. I laid there a bit more and I just couldn’t leave it in. I googled how to take it out, I picked up Pranja, and off we headed to get This out of me. I will suffice to say that I would never have imagined me being able to do that…never…and somehow, out of necessity, I did what I had to do.

So, I had my post op and I relayed these things to my doctor. As she typed away, I forgot to ask what she found out…Am I okay? What did my pap tell you? I asked about the pelvic floor injections, the ones I went in for, because I’m special and cannot have them done without being under anesthesia, which takes a fucking village, by the way, and a major surgery. “Oh, she said, I didn’t do the injections. I didn’t have enough marcaine, since I had to do the extra incision”. I knew nothing of what this meant. Apparently, I am too narrow…and she could not dock her robot on my pelvis, as she had intended, so she had to make an extra incision to dock the robot, on my left side. So, my procedure, the one I went in for, or so I understood it, the procedure to stop this excruciating pelvic pain, did not get done, while I was asleep. My doctors answer was that she could do it right now, as she had just given a couple of women injections, in office, just that morning.

I am not those women. I am Coral and I am a survivor of horrific sexual and emotional abuse…literal, lifelong abuse. I cannot, hop up into your stirrups right now, anymore than I could a few weeks ago when I spoke to you initially. And yet, I said nothing. I asked nothing. I wandered back out into the waiting room, to deliver the news to my girl, that after all we just went though, my pelvic pain had not been addressed, and my injections were not done. My pain ball was not turned on on the OR and I went from surgery to Friday late afternoon without pain management that I thought I was getting. Addressing this caused me to literally overdose and think I was dying, puke like you never want to do, especially after surgery.

The very decision I made to heal me, to address my pain, has caused an onslaught of a shit storm, that I am slowly walking out of now. I still have the pain I went in with, plus the pain that comes with having major surgery. I am a fucking wreck. Sam is a fucking handful.

This, without going into any more detail, and without getting anyone in trouble…this is my reality. This is how my last  two weeks and Tamara’s last two weeks have been. Thank God that Tamara’s sister, hopped on a plane, leaving behind her life and her newly graduated boys, her husband and her daughter…to come and give us a life preserver. We are so thankful for you Michele. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. We were fucking drowning.

This blog is a reminder To is all, that we are all just human beings, being human. We are practicing our crafts. Doctors practice medicine. In my situation, in preparing a place, in doing and not doing procedures, I was harmed simply because I was not able to be really seen.

People cannot see what they have no parameters for seeing. Seeing a 44 year old woman, who is whitty and funny and charismatic and charming…even as she tries to slay her own demons…well its a mother fucking doozie…because inside I am fucking screaming and these, amongst so many other reasons, are why….no matter how loud I talk or how much I need to be heard, I and my CPTSD…Sam and Coral…we are D&D. Since you are here loving me and praying for me…I just wanted you all to know why. I wanted to give you my true update on what has really been happening with us for the last two weeks.

As always, and more than sometimes, we could really use your love and your prayers, whatever you’ve got…I love you and I am sorry I’ve been distant. I hope this will help you to understand  why that is so.

For now though, grab my hand and let’s get going. I will not enroll in any negativity around this, as we are all just walking each other home. We had some good practice this round, didn’t we?

Here is what I want us to take form this…we must open our eyes and our hearts, if we are ever to truly see one another. We must listen and we must speak, even when our voices shake. We must know that we never know anyone else’s struggles…we just don’t. We must be kind and we will always be right.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for the medical teams that assembled to help me to help me. Thank you to my dear friend who made all of this possible. You will never truly know how deeply I love you, how deeply I have always loved you, my dear friend. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

To the most amazing girl in all of the land, my girl Tamara…you are my heart and I love you with all that I am. I thank you for the hell you have walked through, just to keep me afloat and to love me though  this.

To Michele, we were drowning and you came and saved us. Any way you look at it, your love, carried us through a place we couldn’t walk alone. We fucking love you sister! Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. With all of our hearts and from the very bottom of mine, thank you for being there when my Mom died, and for being right here, as I come back to life.

To my Mom…I love you just the same, you beautiful fucking soul! Shedding that body and buffing the shine on that radiant soul of yours suits you well pretty lady. Mom, with all of my heart, after ostracizing you briefly, so that I could catch my breath and heal a bit, I invite you back…I welcome and want you back. Thank you for the much needed time and space to sort it through…please, please, please come back! I fucking miss you!

To everyone who loves me, to everyone who prayed and continues to pray for me…to friends physically and in spirit at the hospital, to everyone who called, texted, PMed me…to Sigrid (who’s says I can use her name), I love you silly and I have no words for the love I  have for you, for us, and who we are, in spite of it all….and the un-named who I honor and appreciate, just the same. To Regina…no words needed, never have needed them, have we? I love you Regina. I love YOU so so much! To my little Brother, I love you Shawn…we will get there…I promise. To my hero, David…literally, YOU are the reason I can do my work with appreciation and gratitude, in ALL things. YOU are such an inspiration to me Dave, and I love you with all of my heart.

To our dogs…with all of my heart and all of my love…Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I love you guys with all that I am…thank you for meeting me and loving me where I am at.

To God…Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Never a day, never a doubt…never a single solitary second that I don’t know that you’ve got me.  When the master is ready, the student healing and coming back better than new, is ready!

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