Rising up...

In the spring after Javad's seizure, I began attending Portland Timbers games fairly regularly. Slowly, I found my tribe. People who accepted me for me, not forming their opinion or relationship with me in regards to Javad. I was struggling emotionally and having a distraction that I loved, soccer, was a way for me to begin to heal.

That year was a strange one. Javad and the Timbers. That was when I was writing more. I wrote about Javad, the Timbers and the MLS Cup that year. When you are desperate to find hope because you see none (or little), you begin to look for things that will keep you grounded. Providence Park became my safe place, my home, my church. It became the place where I could see myself as whole. I wasn't whole by any means and am still putting the pieces of myself together.

Now, after watching Javad, I know that healing doesn't come quickly. Watching his body struggle to heal, piece by piece, helps me to see why it is taking so long to heal. The mind, like…

Letting yourself grieve

Know thyself,
or at least keep renewing the acquaintance~ Robert Brault

When you have a child with a major disabiity, you enter a fire of instruction upon birth. You have painstakingly prepared for you child, have done all the classes and research and in the blink of an eye, you have to toss that away and focus on your child's health. 

From the beginning I didn't doubt that Javad would be okay. Apparently after many conversations, I may have been the only one. Javad was tiny and so weak. As I said, he was like a living doll that was breathing but absolutely no movement. He didn't cry. He just laid there, silent and still.

I am not sure I ever really allowed myself to fully grieve that. As a parent, you have dreams and hopes and, although I was thrilled with Javad, the dream of having him run with his brothers and sisters, learn to drive a tractor with his Papa, and garden with Grami, were gone in a moments notice. Over the years, these losses were felt, but I worked to hold…

One Year Later...

July 18, 2018. One year ago...almost to the date since I last wrote.

It has been an interesting time. I have thought about writing but haven't had the words. Me? No words...seems unbelievable.

The last few years of my life have sped by and crawled at snails pace. It is like my life was thrown in the air like skeet then shot into a million directions. The last few years has made me confront some things about my life that I had pushed back, see things about myself in a light that I may not have wanted and confront fears I was a bit unprepared for.

I used to write a lot, it was a form of therapy in many ways so I find it interesting looking back that writing was too much, too personal. I am ready to be back, writing, processing the world through the eyes of a woman, a high school math teacher and the mother of a medically fragile son. These are viewpoints that sometimes work in tandem and other times pull me in very different directions.

They say statistically that the divorce rate o…

From the Flame to the Fire

This last few weeks in Portland have been scorching hot. Well, for Portland it's been hot, well into the 90's. Luckily I was out of town last week at a conference in Seattle, where it was a bit cooler, while people in Portland were boiling through temperatures in the  high 90's. This week has been pretty hot too. My third floor apartment, without air conditioning, has been sweltering. I sit on the couch, sweating as if I am in the full sun, sticking to my couch. It has been a humbling experience.

Air conditioning....a simple thing that can be something that defines where you fall in the income standings. This is the first time in more than twenty years that I have not had air conditioning. The eighteen years of my marriage and the time before involved air conditioning. Previous to being married, I didn't have it, but I was also a single parent living near my parents so my daughter could go to an acceptable school. I was spending sixty-percent of my income to make it wo…

Summer of Love

Looking back on my blog history, I realize that it has been since March since I have written. For someone who was a consistent writer, this is a lifetime. For anyone who knows me, you know that this year has been a challenge, well, really the last three years have been a struggle, physically, emotionally, personally and professionally.

I have been doing a lot of reflection recently, looking at myself in ways that I haven't had the courage to do before. There have always been areas about myself that I have been less than thrilled about, physically as well as emotionally, and I have realized that it is time to move forward. It is time to shed some of the negative that I have dragged with me for years.

To give a bit of mother (like the one that gave birth to me rather than the mom of my heart), who I have written about before, raised me with some unique beliefs about myself, my body, my emotional health. I am not looking for sympathy, no pity parties here, just giving…

Lean In...

When times seem most challenging, we often want to pull away. These times, when it seems that we can't bear it, are the times we must lean in.

This last week was filled with memories that consumed my brain. Friday was the three year anniversary of Javad's seizure, the day that changed everyone's life in our family. Thinking back to that time, I realize that much of the time is a fog. I vividly remember driving to meet Javad at the hospital and within 24 hours my life was forever changed. My son, a sweet boy who, although affected with a rare muscle disease, had been incredibly strong for his age. Holding his hand in the ER and watching his eyes flutter to sleep, I had no idea that I would not see light in those eyes for months to come.

I know that there is so much trauma surrounding this event in our lives. We all felt this ripple in our life, a deep chasm of sorrow that soon followed. In some ways it seems like this was all just moments ago, then at others it seems so far…

Pioneer Woman

When I was about twelve years old, my father began dating a woman who would become his wife. On our first trip together (when I was actually spending some time together), we went rafting and camping. I was fiercely attached to my dad, was a grouchy twelve year old (I know...hard to and, frankly, I was not thrilled that he was serious about anyone...

Anyway, long story short, after a flipped over raft (with her and my father in it), a hysterical twelve year old (I know...hard to, and a bunch of soaking wet people, she (off the cuff) invented the Pioneer Women's Club. She explained that in the olden days, women were required to be brave and conquer hard situations. Sometimes things didn't work as planned, and Pioneer Women would work hard to make things better. She explained that we were like Pioneer Women in this situation. My twelve-year-old self bought into the story, making us part of a club that now sports members that include all the women in …