What is Your Song?

Is it easier to hurt myself; to tell myself I am not worthy, deserving or enough?  Is it easier sometimes to pick up a bottle rather than the phone and reach out?  Yes, sometimes it is. But that isn’t who I am, not really.  It’s not who I want to be either.  And I don’t want it to be my song.  I don’t want what Bruce did to that precious little girl to be my/her/our song.  I don’t want trauma and loss to be my song either.  Yes, it will always be part of my story but I want, and my deepest desire is to choose this for myself, my song to be what I do with that; what I do with what happens as I climb this mountain (this mountain of healing, grieving, growing, loving, living and thriving).  So what is my song, my true, authentic song?  The song who tells the story of who I really am, that brings love & light to the world, that shouts out my truth, the truth that those who love, care and support me, that are on this climb with me, see and reflect back to me in the compassion they willingly and unconditionally show?  Somewhere inside I know my song is love, light, bravery, compassion, courage, strength and so much more, because that is who I really am.  The truth is that who I really am is so much bigger, and more important, than anything that has ever happened to me or in my life.  Claiming that truth, however, is one of the most difficult obstacles on this mountain after a lifetime believing I am not (not worthy, deserving, good enough, lovable, etc.).

Am I perfect, no.  While I have started the process of choosing myself, my true self, over what is easier, I don’t always stay on track/make the better choice.  And yes, I am always the first to beat myself up over it.  But the God I believe in, the one I am learning to trust and who has always been there, does not ask perfection of me (or any of us) and I am awakening to the awareness/realization that He never has and never will.  I’m not even sure the God that I believe in, the One that has always been there, ‘asks’ anything of me; that maybe, just maybe, he is on this journey with me because he is in me.  My spiritual path teaches that God is within.  A voice inside me says that I already am, that I AM who he created me to be.  Now it is up to me to know, claim, choose and live that.  I wonder as I write this if, to He who created me, I am already perfect.  That scares the crap out of me.

Every day, every step up this mountain, is a choice because it is just that, a process, a journey. More than anything, I want it to be a conscious choice  And this next chapter is still more scary, painful and unknown to me than words can express; more difficult than any mountain I have ever climbed.  I am the one who ‘asks’ (demands) perfection of myself, the one who punishes myself, and the one who believes I am not worthy, deserving or enough; not God and not mom, Ginny, David, J, Dr.K, Cherryl, Sheila, or the other loving and amazing people with and supporting me on this journey.  Despite the pain and fear, I can’t and won’t turn my back and walk away from this mountain.  Yet I can’t climb it singing anyone else’s song; I have to sing my own song.  I don’t know all the words yet and I hope that is o.k.  I think maybe I will learn them as I climb farther up this mountain.  It seems like it would be easier, and not near as scary, to know them before I climb up the mountain but I don’t think healing or life work that way (neither does climbing, for that matter). And as scary as not knowing them before I start the climb is, my soul and it’s vision won’t let me walk away from this mountain.  That is both the hopeful and scary part.

Listening to David this morning touched me in a way that is hard to put into words.  Ginny, David, mom, J and the other people who are supporting me and singing their songs are true heroes to me.  Their bravery, authenticity and light in this world are an inspiration like nothing else and their love, compassion and support are gifts that mean more and have helped me more than words can say.  I finally have the support I never had and wouldn’t trade it for ANYTHING in the world; after all, I can’t climb this mountain alone and I don’t want to either.  I want to try each day to live by their example, using that love to help me remember who I really am, who we all are.  And I also hope one day sooner rather than later I can be that for others.  As I make my way up this mountain, that inspiration and support feed my soul and strengthen it’s vision; a vision of healing, living, thriving and loving – for myself, others and the world.  

The Human Factor

"Be kind and gentle.  Everyone is facing a battle you know nothing about."

I've heard this quote before, and I'm actually not sure who said it originally, but I’ve thought about it a lot lately.  I think I’ve always been drawn toward it because of how true I believe it is and I’ve probably been thinking about it more lately because of what I am trying to work through.

After a horrible week at work (the worst in the 9 years I’ve been there), everything going on in my own life and all the turmoil around the world, I had to get out, to at least escape temporarily.  For those of you that know me, you know how much the outdoors, and mountain climbing in particular, are a part of who I am and what helps heal me.  So as tired as I was, I woke up around 4:30 this morning and went for a hike.

It was so what I needed; body, mind, heart and soul.  This afternoon after getting back, I felt like watching a documentary I have on DVD, High Ground, that I haven’t watched for quite awhile.  I usually have a ‘routine’ when I get back from a hike or climb and until today, watching that hasn’t been part of my routine.  Not intentionally, but probably more because it is so powerful and emotional that watching it after a hike can be overwhelming for me (not entirely in a bad way) but emotional and overwhelming none the less.

But not more than 30 minutes into it (which is about a third of the way through), it really spoke to me in a way that it hasn’t before.  I initially responded just by writing some thoughts down but it’s like that wasn’t enough.  Then I began to realize what I was seeing in it that I wasn’t aware of before.  And why I think everyone should watch it.

If you haven’t seen it, which most of you probably haven’t, it is the story of 11 Iraq war veterans that came home with some type of life changing injury or condition; physical (one veteran was blinded while serving, others lost limbs), some have traumatic brain injuries, and still others suffer from PTSD.  In an effort to give them an experience that will hopefully help them find the strength, hope and healing they seek as they come home and empower them in their healing journey, they are mentored by Everest summiteers such as Eric Weinmeyer, the first blind climber to summit Everest as well as other guides.  With guidance and training, the ultimate goal is to summit Lobuche, a high altitude Himalayan peak in Nepal near Mt. Everest. 

Given the turmoil right here at home, from the economy and healthcare to school shootings, and in the world right now, from the Ukraine to the Middle East to the newest situation in Iraq and, this may seem like a political post BUT IT IS NOT.  And while some may still see it that way, I hope that most of you, I think those that know me will get that it isn’t, will see it is the exact opposite.  I’m intentionally not including any of my personal opinions (other than the fact that while I am more liberal than conservative, I consider myself independent more than anything else), beliefs or politics in this post because I want to look past that.  And as I was watching today, that’s what I saw.  I saw what is too often lost in all that is going on both here and abroad, the human factor.  Beyond the anger and hate, the left and the right, beyond what is on the surface and going on around us, are human beings.  At the core, we are all human.  We hurt and grieve, and like the quote said, we all battle something at some time in our lives.

As I was watching this afternoon, that’s what spoke to me, the human factor.   And the more I watched and thought of recent news, the more I realized that too often the human factor is too easily and too often forgotten.  What struck me is that the veterans in the film don’t get into their personal politics (i.e. should we have gone, should we go back, etc.) but rather they share how their experiences over there affected them as human beings.  The veteran that was blinded while serving in Iraq is almost always so positive and strong, yet they also show him sharing how he wants so badly to see the Himalayas as they are climbing.  And he starts crying, as did I.  I don’t care what your personal beliefs, politics or opinions are, that right there is the human factor at it’s rawest.

Another veteran, a female aircraft mechanic, shares in the film how she began to suffer from PTSD by her 3^rd tour of duty, after losing friends, being molested by another soldier, and not having anyone to turn to for support.  On Christmas Day, she thought the only way through her pain was to end her own life.  She was walking to the flight line to check out a weapon when she realized, as she puts it, something was wrong with her.  I myself have felt that kind of pain, more than once.  But I don’t think it’s something wrong with her at all, but the fact she had no support, no one to see the very human and legitimate pain and hurt.  After going to the mental services support, she came home.  She was asked to share her story in either a newspaper or magazine article and received mostly all positive support, but they show in the documentary how some people think she didn’t even deserve the treatment she was getting for her PTSD because she ‘was just a mechanic’.  Now I’m sorry, but there is something wrong with anyone who thinks she doesn’t deserve to get all the support and treatment she needs.  Because getting treatment for any trauma has nothing to do with politics, etc. it has to do with the human factor; treating, respecting and seeing people as human beings.

The more I think about it, I think losing sight of the human factor is a big part of what’s wrong in politics, in arguments over everything from the economy and spending to healthcare and school shootings.  Don’t get me wrong, there will always be politics, opinions and arguments.  That too is part of being human.  But I really believe we have gotten so focused on those, that we have lost sight of the human factor.  And if my own trauma, battles and healing journey have taught me anything, it is that there’s room for both and we need both.  It doesn’t have to be black and white, it shouldn’t be black and white.  We need both and there is room for both but no one seems to see that, they only see one or the other, as if it’s black and white.  Well, it’s not.

While I can relate to broader aspects of trauma and healing, I can’t even begin to imagine what personal battles these Iraq war veterans faced (and may likely still be facing), what battles a survivor of a horrific natural disaster faces, what it’s like to battle a chronic and/or terminal illness, or other battles people face that I haven’t.  As a survivor of childhood sexual abuse who is just now really starting to face her demons and truly heal, I know the battles I’ve faced, the even harder ones I face now as I really heal, and I know there will be more to come because that is part of life, especially if you choose to live it at it’s fullest.  That too (living life to it’s fullest) is part of the human factor and something everyone deserves to experience.  And I intend to live life at it’s fullest.  Even now, in my darkest moments, I may temporarily lose sight of that, but that vision, that drive is always there; it never really leaves me and I can always tell when I feel it again, like when I was hiking today.

And that is what I really believe High Ground is all about and why I think anyone and everyone should watch it at least once.  Because it’s not about politics, war or soldiers, it’s about human beings facing their own personal battles, both on and off the literal and figurative mountain, and sharing their stories from a human perspective.  And that’s why I wanted to write a post about this, because maybe if we can start incorporating the human factor into our own lives and into what is going on around us, we can start healing the world, not making it worse.  It doesn’t mean there won’t be conflicts, problems or differences, what I believe it means is that we will be able to work through them much more peacefully than shooting each other, waging war or tearing each other down.

Watch the film and you will see that when you are climbing a mountain, there is no place for politics, etc.  Because the only real way to the top is to see the human factor in yourself, your fellow climbers, the mountain your are on, and the world.  And that’s the thing, when we act human, from a place of kindness like the quote says, it’s like we are those 11 veterans in the film, climbing our own mountains and overcoming our own demons.

So I guess a lot of this is my personal beliefs, but from a human factor, nothing more, nothing less.  I just want to say that there are a few other reasons I was really moved watching the film.  First, because while I am not a veteran and can never know what they go through, as a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, I know that kind of trauma and mountain climbing is such a part of me and my healing, so watching them and seeing their stories is such an inspiration.  Second, this blog is both a way to express myself and part of a bigger project, writing a book, which I will add more to under that page now that I have put myself out there, which is huge for me.  The other huge way it inspires me is that I would like to create a non-profit for adult survivors of sexual abuse that gives them an opportunity to climb a peak (not necessarily a high altitude peak abroad, though I don't rule that out as I myself plan on doing many of those as part of my healing) as part of their healing journey.  I believe it is so empowering and really gets to the human factor!!

Check it out:  http://highgroundmovie.com/

The Rescue (?)

I don't yet know what the outcome is, but I am at peace with what I did.  I am, at times pretty sad, hoping she didn't suffer too much, wasn't in too much pain.  Sad thinking she might still die.  But again, in the midst of my sadness, I am also at peace with what I did.  I can, and am, both.  There is room for both and that is a good thing.  I know regardless of the outcome, I tried all I could to make a difference in one little life and that is just as important as the outcome.  I'll still be sad, but that is o.k. too.

The Rescue (part 3)...

He had me fill out a one-page form with my information, how I came to find the bunny and any other useful information.  As I was doing that, he explained they had only been there about six months but were quickly becoming recognized state-wide, even outside of Colorado.  I knew, in my gut, I was in the right place.  There was even a resident german shepherd and Tucker, the cat.  They were very friendly and didn't even try to get her (I had set the box on the table as I was filling the form out).  Ryan, the guy helping me, was also very nice and good with the cat and dog, so again, I felt like I was in the right place.  He explained that he would put her in an incubator to help keep her warm and a vet would be there in about an hour or two.  I knew she might not live that long, but I had done all I could and I trusted he, and the vet, would too.

So I left feeling very emotional and drained; I knew I had done all I could but was still sad.  I hurt when other people or animals are hurting.  I seem to feel it on a level and in a way that is hard to describe in words.  I also knew that somehow, someway, something bigger allowed our paths to cross (the bunny and I).  I believe that without a doubt, especially on a spiritual level.  And then to see that sign, after what felt like two failed attempts to help her the only way I knew how!  I am reminded of the shoes.  I thought it would be easy to just go the the UPS store and they would get them back.  I thought my vet or perhaps the second place I went, could help the little bunny.  I didn't think I would have to go across town and back again.  But I became more and more determined, especially after seeing that sign, to not give up - just like with the shoes.

I don't know if this story will have a happy ending like the shoes or not.  I called twice yesterday (the first time the vet was just getting there and the second time Ryan wasn't sure what the status was) and haven't heard today.  Ryan said they would call, they have my information, but I may try and call this afternoon.  After all that, I want so, so bad for her to live.  I had this little precious life in my hands, literally and figuratively, and it broke my heart in a way words can't describe to see her hurting.  I know one little baby bunny won't fix all my struggles or the world's, but that's not the point and that's not why I did what I did.  Every life on this planet is important and when we turn our backs on even one little bunny in need, I think we die a little on the inside.  I know I would and that's why I would do what I did all over again.  I couldn't take away her pain, but I could be present to it, no matter how sad it made me, and do everything I could to help her.

As I was on C-470 westbound (probably around University), I wondered if I was 'holding on too hard' to wanting her to live.  Not that I still wouldn't have kept going to Squirrel Creek but for her to endure the drive, etc., even though I wanted her to live, most of all I didn't want her to suffer.  So I told her if she needed to let go, it was o.k.  Letting go is one of the hardest things to do in life but is also one of the most freeing.  I think that was as much about me letting go as her letting go.  After all, she was still fighting when we arrived at Squirrel Creek.  That was two hours after I found her under my car (and I don't know how long she had been there).  And even though part of me didn't want to leave her, I felt she had the best chance there.  As I was leaving, Ryan was telling me how they recently had a squirrel that had been shot in the head with a pellet gun.  After more than one brain surgery, he actually lived.

The Rescue (continued)...

So off we went.  I knew it wouldn't be short drive, maybe 30-40 minutes, but I hoped at least traffic wouldn't be too bad.  Not long into the drive at all, my emotions kicked in again.  Will she even make it to Squirrel Creek?  Was I going to get fired?  Am I doing the right thing?  Most of all, I didn't want her to suffer.  About ten or fifteen minutes into the drive, I am sitting at the light at westbound Evans Ave. and I-25 south, waiting for it to turn.  It wasn't long but it felt long.  The whole time I was just focused on the light and thoughts/emotions going through my mind.  Then, just before it turned, I happened to look over to the right, and see a digital billboard at the Freeway Ford car dealership.  It said:  Don't give up!!  Don't ever give up!!

Those reading who know me know I am a very spiritual (not religious) person.  If I needed assurance that I was doing what was best for her, I didn't need to look any further.  At least not for the time being.  I wanted to take a picture of it with my phone, and post it with this, but the light turned just as I was reaching for my phone.  I went back today, after hiking, hoping it would still be there and I could take a picture.  I wasn't completely surprised to discover it wasn't.  The billboard was there but it was a different quote.  I was disappointed but thought, it was in my life just long enough to help me not give up, it was in my life just when I needed it most.

Thankfully traffic wasn't horrible and we arrived at Squirrel Creek safe.  I had tried calling as I got close to C-470 and Santa Fe but there was no answer.  I didn't even have the address, just the name of the street and zip code (80125).  I exited C-470 going south on Santa Fe, because I knew that was the 80125 zip code.  Then I see a sign saying the next signal is the street I want.  I manage to get into the right lane and turn where I need to go.  I didn't have to go far and saw a sign.  I was so glad to finally be there.  I peeked into the box and sure enough, she was still fighting (once again I could see her breathing).  Just as I pulled in to park, I guy was pulling up into the spot next to me.  He was very nice and asked how he could help.  I explained the whole story to him; starting with how I found the bunny, to my tour across town, and then ending up here.  He said I was in the right place and we went inside.

The Rescue - Up Close and Personal

For the second week in a row, I had a chance to perform yet another meaningful act of kindness.  For those of you that read the two previous posts (about the shoes), you know how much that made my day.  I am choosing to start calling both that and what I'm about to share, meaningful acts of kindness, rather than random acts of kindness, because as I was typing this, using the word random (even though technically they are in that they are situations I come upon randomly) didn't seem to fit.  I think it didn't feel right because there is nothing random about how I chose to deal with the shoes or what happened yesterday.  But while the shoes were more 'fun' and 'happy', yesterday was pretty emotional for me.

So I go out to my car to go to work and I see, on the passenger side, a very little baby bunny just sitting there under my car just to the inside of the tire.  There have been many this spring and summer.  I myself, being the nature and outdoor lover that I am, really love watching them.  I have occasionally seen them underneath the car before but they usually run when the car beeps when I remotely unlock it as I'm approaching the car.  But this little one didn't.  So I put my stuff in the back seat and shut the door but it still didn't move.  That's when I definitely knew something was wrong.  I slowly walked up to it and knelt down.  It didn't move and it didn't move when I touched it's ear.  Without hesitating, I just instinctively and carefully picked it up.  It was still small enough to fit in my hand.

It didn't take long at all for me to start feeling sad that it was hurting and also wanting to help it however I could.  I knew I had to do something, I just wasn't sure what.  I had a little soul, a little life in my hand that needed someone to help it.  It was under my car, it needed me to help it.  I called my mom but she wasn't sure what to do either.  Even though I was supposed to be at work in ten minutes, I couldn't just leave it.  I know what it's like to be small, scared and alone feeling like there's no one there to help you.  I wasn't about to do that to this little one.  I didn't know of any mammal rescue or wild animal rescue groups, so I went to my vet (the same vet I take my cat to and my mom takes her dog to).  I think part of me knew there may not be anything they could do, but it was a start.  If they couldn't do anything, surely they would know who could.

Luckily it wasn't a far drive.  I had gotten an old t-shirt to wrap her (I don't know it's gender, I have just been calling it a 'her') in so she would be warm and had her in my lap the whole way.  I have to say the two ladies that helped me were so nice, I can't thank them enough.  But it turns out there really wasn't anything they could do.  The lady at the desk, it was only her third day, was the first person I talked to.  I of course explained the situation and she was very, very nice and compassionate.  She went to get one of the nurses.  She came out and looked at the little one just quickly.  From the beginning, I wondered if it was something internal because there was no physical, outward signs of scrapes, cuts, blood, etc.  She said the same thing and also that it's heart rate was pretty slow and it was not very warm.

I am not ashamed to admit that I got teary from time to time as the three of us tried to figure out what to do.  The nurse explained that the only vet licensed to treat wild animals was on vacation.  Because no one there was licensed to deal with those situations, they couldn't even euthanize her.  They both suggested the Wild Bird Sanctuary.  The lady at the desk looked up the address and phone number for me while the nurse went to get a small box and a saline-IV type of bag with warm water.  She and I carefully placed the little one, still on my shirt, in the box.  Keeping her wrapped in the shirt so it would be soft and cushioned next to the warm water, she fit into the box.  I asked if they thought I was doing the right thing, because I cried almost the whole way over there, wondering if it was better to just leave her under a tree or bush and let nature run it's course.  My heart and soul said I was doing the right thing, from the time I saw her under my car and picked her up, I became her protector.  Some part of me told me I couldn't just leave her.  But another part doubted myself.  Sure, I was trying to help, but what if I was making it worse?  Would she suffer less if let her be?  They both said definitely not; the nurse said if it was something internal, and she got into pesticides or poison, she could have internal bleeding, etc. and was likely in pain.  The nurse seemed to think she had a chance if I went to the Wild Bird Sanctuary right away.  So I didn't even call, I just went.

This was a longer drive, but someone or something was watching over us because traffic on the highway, I-25, during morning rush hour wasn't too bad.  It still took longer, but when I peeked in the box when we got there, she was still breathing.  I could see the rise and fall of breath in her little body.  She was a fighter.  There times I cried on this drive too, but not as much.  Not unlike the shoes, now I was on a mission, a rescue mission.  I got there only to find out they cannot treat mammals because they are only licensed to treat birds.  The young lady doing the intake was really nice when I explained the situation of how I found the little bunny, went to my vet and then they sent me here.  She offered to keep her there, keeping her warm until they contacted a mammal rescue group called Squirrel Creek.  By then I was scared, sad, and protective.  I know they would do the best they could, but like the shoes, this little one was my responsibility now.  She needed me.

The lady mentioned they would try and see if someone from Squirrel Creek could come get her, keeping her warm in the meantime (but they couldn't do anything to diagnose or treat her).  I'm not sure why I asked, because even though I didn't want to give her up, I also needed to get to work, I was already more than a few minutes late, but I asked where Squirrel Creek was.  I had gone from home, in west Littleton, to Highlands Ranch (where my vet is), all the way to Iliff and Quebec in Denver to the Wild Bird Sanctuary.  I was afraid she would say it's way up north in Longmont or was south in Colorado Springs or something like that and I would have to leave her there.  But when she said it's in Littleton, I'm thinking, I work in Littleton and have to go that way anyway.  So I told her I could take her on my way to work.  She had started putting her in a little basket to have them take her back and keep her warm, so we gently placed her back in her box with my t-shirt and warm bag of water.  She gave me their number and approximate location, C-470 and Santa Fe, and luckily I am much more familiar with the south end of the metro area than anywhere else.  So back we went, she and I, to Squirrel Creek.

The Mystery Package

Since I had several people ask whether the shoes from last week's mystery package got where they belonged and also what the reaction was, I thought I'd post the results of my quest to find where they belonged.  All afternoon that Friday, I looked forward to returning them.  I finally had my chance when I got home from work.  I didn't have to go far, they lived farther up in my same building.  So before doing anything else, I took them over.  At first no one was home, and I had to wait about 15-20 minutes and tried again.  It turns out they were for a young man who had just graduated from high school and was heading off to college soon.  He wasn't home but his dad was and that is who answered the door.  He was very nice and grateful.

I have also had a few people ask how I felt about his reaction, etc.  Whether I thought it was more or less, if you will, than it should have been.  I told him the whole story, about how I tried going to the UPS store and then my leasing office (who told me they were residents and which apartment they were in) and about how much I just wanted to get them back where they belonged.  And I've thought about that over the last week, especially a week ago today, last Saturday, as I was hiking.

I suppose from one perspective, someone might think he should be, for lack of a better word, 'extra' grateful that I tried so hard.  I guess some might say I could have 'given up' after my first initial effort of taking them to the UPS store.  After all, I gave it my best and the UPS guy said they were technically mine.  I suppose there are some people that would give up at that point and maybe even keep them (either giving them to someone they know that could wear them or sell them on Ebay) but that thought never crossed my mind;  not even once.

The night before taking them back, I figured it would be quick and easy.  Go to the UPS store and they could get them where they belonged.  No such luck.  I guess maybe the more meaningful things in life aren't meant to be so easy.  But for me, the more I thought about it as I was hiking the next day and as the week went on, I think it not being so easy was the best part.  After not having any luck at the UPS store, the guy suggesting going to my leasing office and them knowing who it was, that gave me the chance to return them myself.  It became even more meaningful because I became that much more determined to get them back.  I wasn't going to give up, even if I had to go on Facebook and see if I could find the name on the package and contact them that way (that was my backup plan anyway).

I knew I would never regret 'doing the right thing' but when it became the thing I looked forward to most that day, it made my day.  And I think I knew from the beginning that wouldn't change regardless of their reaction to getting the shoes back.  Don't get me wrong, he was very nice and grateful.  My point is that his reaction didn't take anything away from how important getting them back was to me and how much it made my day.  That was never my motivation in the first place, but sometimes I think it is easy for all of us to get caught up in what we get in return, what we think should come back to us, etc.  And that includes me, but not in this case.  I was given an opportunity to turn something seemingly small into a random and meaningful act of kindness.  There are opportunities virtually everyday for all of us to do that.  Choosing to do it is up to us.  There is never, ever anything wrong with that!!!