The Day After

I'm not entirely certain how I feel about what happened yesterday at the protest at the Capitol.  (Which is exactly what most people who have been in this position will tell you.)  There are a mixture of emotions.  Those of us who had agreed to be arrested were trained, but for us first-timers this was definitely an event that could not be described and prepared for..no matter how much training you got. Why?  Because everyone perceives things differently and because each action comes with its own challenges and opportunities.

As scared as I was before I left my house, by the time I got to the bar to meet my friends, the energy there completely shifted what was inside of me.  There were LOTS of people there between those who agree to get arrested and the support crew.  Every arrest action that happens, has several videographers making sure EVERYTHING gets filmed in case things need to be proved in the court of law.  We have people who are legal observers who write EVERYTHING down in case it needs to be used in a court of law.  This is no small undertaking and it is very serious.  Yet, the people that are part of this, go into it with a happy and hopeful heart.  The resolve of these people is enormous!  I have never met such a fine group of people!

Getting such a large crowd (over over 50 people all dressed in black) from the bar to the Capitol building in an inconspicuous way is quite a challenge.  Thank god for rainy days and umbrellas!

The Capitol was going to be very busy with 3 different protests.  The anti-gun on campus protesters (and their counter argument) were going to be there.  Another group from Ag-Gag were going to be there. And then there was our small little gathering.  Because of this, our fearless leader was a bit more protective of us and wanted to make sure we were all in one hall way and not spread apart.  We opted for the Senate Committee Meeting hall.  We had two lines of people blocking people from coming in and then we had some at the doors in the back blocking people from coming in. And other various doors blocked or people standing along walls in the hall way. Just to be clear, we would let anyone and every one who wanted out, out.  They just could not come in.

I happened to be in the 2nd row of the front lines blocking people from coming from the main part of the building into the  hallway.  From my point of view, I could see the crowd of people gathering above the small set of stairs wondering how they were going to get past us.  I saw people who stood their with signs in support of us.  I saw people who stood quietly with their hands over their mouths just like we did.  We had complete strangers join our ranks, until they heard the State Police were coming to arrest us.  We also had people yelling at us very angrily.

We are instructed NEVER to touch anyone.  But if someone touches us, we are instructed to yell "OUCH!"  That only happened once at the front lines.  Mostly we just blocked people from getting in.  The very front of the line held pictures of two young teens who were bullied for being gay and took their own lives.  These are the kids we stand for.  This is what we are trying to prevent by getting these words added..to protect them.  Reporters were there filming and interviewing one of the deceased teen's mom.  It was touching and had me in tears.  (Unfortunately that interview did not make the news, but a senator who is not happy with us did.)  But occasionally, in the back I could hear, "OUCH!  OUCH! OUCH!"  as one of my friends was being "touched" in a harsh way by someone trying to get through.  My heart ached.  I could not turn around.  I had no idea what was going on.  At one point in time, someone was actually being HIT.  A friend of mine in a wheel chair was being pushed aside by a senator in a harsh way.  All I could do was stand in my spot, with my hand over my mouth, fist clinched (in order to try and control my emotions) and cry for my friends.  We stand quietly. We stand respectfully.  We stand focused.  We stand peacefully to make change and to be seen for those who can not be seen.  And there were my friends yelling "OUCH!".  It was TENSE to say the least.  There had not been this kind of intensity at the protests before.  And I am so proud of my brothers and sisters who held that back line!

Eventually, the time came.  They came to warn us that if we did not move and allow for ingress and egress, we would be arrested.  We did not move.  The State Police came back and said again, we would be arrested.  We asked in unison, "Are we ALL under arrest?"  And they said, "No, but soon." They came back again, "You, you, you, you, and you.  Follow me."  The first five asked, "Are we under arrest?"  His reply, "Yes." And they peacefully followed.  I and a few others moved to close up the new gap.  A new State Police Officer came to us. "You, You, You You and You, come with me."  "Am I under arrest" I asked?  "Yes, you are."  I peacefully followed, never removing my hand from my mouth. Head held high, I walked through the crowd that had parted ways like Moses and the red sea.

These pictures were taken from KTVB

Standing at the line was emotional, but once we were arrested and taken by the State Police to be "processed" a whole new adventure began.  I have never been arrested.  These State Police were the friendliest people I have ever met.  Most of them even support what we are doing.  They were very careful with the handcuffs.  They fed us water from water bottles once we were cuffed.  They made sure we were taken care of.  They treated my new friend Patrick (who is transgendered Female to Male) with respect and asked how he identified to make sure they had the right officer search him.  We had so many protesters, we filled the room to overflow.  As soon as they had us processed, they moved us to the County Jail Bus so that more protesters could come in and get processed.  You've seen the sheriff buss before.   Plain color.  No windows.  And you think.. "Oh my gosh!  Criminals are in there!"  On the way to the bus, they had the walkways lined with police line tape.  That was  a first for me.  I was part of a crime scene.  And yes, more cameras were everywhere.  We filed onto the bus.  Those things are NOT comfortable!  Especially if you have your hands cuffed behind your back!  Because we had so many protesters, they had the big white bus and a black heavily tinted van as well.

Once we got to the County Jail, they kept us in the bus for a long time.  Most of the time, we talked about our cause.  How is it affecting the people we know.  What is the culture like in the schools in our area?  What area needs the most work and support.  Even in cuffs, we didn't stop working and we stayed focused.  Don't get me wrong, we also laughed a great deal.  After the tension of standing in the Capitol, the arrest almost seemed like a nice rest.  That is until, we had been stopped in the bus for such a long time that the air had gotten stuffy.  My hands had swollen up and the cuffs were cutting into my skin.

I was trying to be stoic.  Let's face it.  I must have broken some kind of law (though that is very debatable and I do not claim to be guilty of anything) I got arrested on my own free will. People who get arrested wear cuffs and its not supposed to be a walk in the park.  But this was down right painful and I was losing feeling to my pinkies.  (as a matter of fact, 24 hours later, I still have bruising on my right hand).  Finally, the amazing State Police Officer Janey came back to check on us and I asked if he had a spare pair of cuffs he could change out for mine.  He laughed and said, "All I have are these old fashioned metal ones on my belt."  I told him I would take ANYTHING if I could just get these zip ties off my hands.  I was feeling claustrophobic and about to pass out.  He went into the jail, got the cutters and came right back.  He was very gentle with me cutting them off.  He saw how swollen my hands had gotten and how the cuffs had cut into my flesh.  Then he turned me around and gave me his metal cuffs and just barely put them on me.  I could have wiggled out of them.  He was so sweet!

Finally, they let us off the bus and took the women to one holding cell.  It was a real jail cell with like 8 bunks and one cot on the floor.  2 "metal desks" and a "metal dining table with round stools attached".  There was a "bathroom" in the corner with no door.  A shower that had a curtain.  And a toilet with no door. And the room itself had 2 big windows in it, but they blocked it off for someones privacy...ours maybe?  While I was with my friends it was all good times.  We talked more about what was going on and getting to know each other better.

Then they took us by 3's to search us again and uncuff us then put us in a different room with more of our friends.  This was a huge room with a picture window so we could be seen and a toilet in the corner with only a little quarter wall for privacy.

Then they took us by 3's to get "processed" again....our names in the computer and our belongings confiscated and gone through.  These officers were just as friendly as the rest of them.  They told us they loved getting us because we had manners and were fun to talk to.  When the one officer asked if I had a tattoo, I thought he was going to jump out of his skin from shock!  *laugh* Never judge a book by its cover, buddy!

Once, they had all my info, they put me in my very own holding cell.  It was all cement.  A cement bed.  A metal toilet with NO privacy cause it was right next to the door with huge window.  AND the camera was directly above.  Nice!  The floors had yellow urine stains.  They weren't sticky, but I guess after having so many drunks in this room...it was bound to happen.  And THIS is when I started to feel a bit of fear and a bit of loneliness from being arrested.  I knew I was going to get out.  But I was in this room alone!  I could look out my window and see my friend Patrick who was across the hallway.  We gave each other the thumbs up to let each other know we were okay.  But still, we were alone.  I had started to sing.  I looked at Patrick and saw him singing as well.  I felt like singing was the only way I was going to stay sane in this jail cell by myself.  I started singing old hymns and changing the lyrics to fit the theme...turning them into Human Rights Chants. (Ha!  As I read this and edit it, that last statement about singing keeping me sane and Human Rights reminded me of slaves in the fields singing old spirituals.)

Finally, they took me out of there, and took my mug shot and my finger prints and it was another hour before I was released.  When I was finally released, I entered the waiting room to cheers and hugs from my friends who had gotten out and supporters who had arrived..and of course, my amazing hubby.

It really was quite the experience.  I can't put it all into words.  The things I saw.  The other prisoners who were there...the sadness in their eyes.  The fear in their eyes.  The craziness of the drunks.  The anger in some of them.  I can't imagine what it would be like to REALLY have to stay there!    But I guess the best part was the lesbian officer who knew we were there because we were out protecting her rights.  She can't do what we do or she would lose her job......but there she was processing our arrests.  She did so with great care and warmth and gratitude.

People wonder if we are making a difference or if we are just getting in the way and irritating the lawmakers.  The short answer is, we ARE making a difference.  Before they refused to even talk about us, now they are debating us.  We have enough votes to take it to the floor now!  That is the first time it has ever happened in 8 years of this journey!  So we ARE making a difference!

And last night in my solitary confinement as I re-wrote songs I had no idea what would happen with those songs.  Today, the plan was created.  I am hosting a sing along in the capitol on Monday, March 3rd at Noon...singing songs of freedom specifically worded to encourage our lawmakers to see us as neighbors and encourage them to remember their call to equality and do the right thing by adding the words!

Singing for Add The Words

Here's to change in Idaho!!!

The Big Arrest Day

Before the Arrest.....

It's 8:30 in the morning.  I am supposed to be meeting my friends at the Balcony Bar at 11:30 for staging.  This is where we will be leaving our coats and things we can not and will not need as we stand in the Capitol Building.

Today's plan is an "arrest action" which means, people wearing the special "Add The 4 Worlds" shirts have agreed to be arrested if action comes to that.  And the action we are taking today will be something that we can be arrested for.  It has already happened twice.  Today will be the 3rd such action, but my first.  I can not be entirely certain, but my guess is that we will be standing shoulder to shoulder with our left hand over our mouths symbolizing the silencing of the LGBT community to be heard as well as the silencing of some of our Law Makers who have been told to NOT EVEN TALK ABOUT IT.  All we are asking is to add "Sexual Orientation" and "Gender Identity" to the Idaho Human Rights Act to protect those in the LGBT community and make it a protected class.  It's not that hard.  It's not even going to hurt anyone.  As a matter of fact, it will HELP COUNTLESS of Idahoans!

Anyway, this blog isn't about that.  It's about me and the way that I am feeling right now.

I have done several peaceful protests.  I have done them with my entire family. I have done them with just my daughter. I have walked in Pride Parades with my church or just by myself.  But this time is different.  Today as I have my gear laid out.... long black skirt, black sweater, charcoal grey cami, my special "Add The 4 Words" tank, my tights, my boots, my little "night club purse" that I can sling over my shoulder and weighs nothing that is filled with female personal items (cause mother nature has decided to bless me for this event) as well as my ID, social security number (in case my TBI brain draws a blank when I get arrested) and my debit card to post my bail, I sit here with trepidation filling my heart.  I have seen the pictures of these protests and the arrests.  I have talked to my friends who have been part of these arrests.  I have been trained for today.  But it doesn't change what I am feeling right now.  I know that what I am planning on doing is REQUIRED for change to happen here in Idaho.  I know that what has happened so far has made some progress so I know that what I am about to do will make a difference.  Yet, it does not stop my heart from being emotional.

I hugged my husband goodbye and give him a kiss as he left for work, and all I wanted to do was to keep holding him for fear that it would be the last time I saw him.  That sentiment is a complete over exaggeration of what will really happen today.  But that is how I am feeling.  I guess because, even though, we have see this played out two other times, one never really knows what will happen from day to day.  No one really knows when you will be the straw that breaks the camels back (either for better or worse).

When I ask my friends to keep me in their prayers or when I ask for their  help (cause there is some help needed today in non-arrest functions) my friends tell me over and over again, "Stay safe".  Those two words imply that there could be the opposite of safe happening.

Truth of the matter is... Change is uncomfortable!

And Change Is NEEDED in Idaho!  And the only people who are going to make that happen are the people like me.  Not everyone can take the day off of work. Not everyone can afford the bail and the fines.  Not everyone can afford the possible fall-out of an arrest.  But me?  I am a stay at home mom with a husband who works for a company that accepts LGBT.  I AM bisexual.  This change is for ME.  My daughter is bisexual, this change is for HER.  How can I NOT be part of this?  It would be incredibly wrong for me to ask for this change and NOT do my part in any way that I possibly can.  So even though I am scared out of my wits today.  I will be putting on my "uniform" and I will be meeting my friends at the bar.  And I will be walking to the Capitol to do whatever is needed of me...to stand Peacefully, Focused, Respectful and Silently...to be seen and counted.

I guess I will finish this blog later...though it is already pretty long.  When I get arrested, I'm certain, I will have even more to say.  I just can't post this blog until after its done...because the action I am about to take is "secret" (otherwise the law makers run and hide so they don't have to see who they are ignoring).

Lessons from a 1st Grader

This might get long. You might want to get some coffee and make yourself comfortable.

I was emailing a friend who belongs to a conservative church....and Assembly of God church.  The denomination I grew up in.  We have been having a very open conversation about understanding human rights and discrimination.  We have been listening to each other's stories.  Which is all the Add the Words Campaign protesters are asking of our legislators.  I am a firm believer that if we just LISTENED to each other's stories we would find we are not so different from each other and war would end.

Anyway, as I was emailing him, I realized this friend only  had a very superficial view of who I was.  He did not really know ME and where I came from.  He did not know WHY I am standing up the way I am.  And really, even though I fit into the LGBT umbrella, that is not WHY I am standing up and that is not what makes me who I am.  It just just PART of who I am.  I believe to REALLY know me and why I do what I do, you must go back to my 1st grade me.  Because, let's face it, kids don't pull any punches and they tell you the truth as they see it..without filters...

I may have already typed this in a blog somewhere before.  I mean I have been blogging for 4 years now!  But please bear with me...

I was born in 1969 in Richardson, Texas.  Texas isn't really the deep south.  It's not really the west.  If you ask a Texan, they will tell you Texas is a state of its own, and very proudly they will tell you that they are the only state that can legally secede from the union.  My German ancestors immigrated to Texas before Texas was even a state. It was part of Mexico still!  That should tell you 2 things.  1) I'm white.  2) My blood runs THICK in Texas and we all know how RED Texas is.

Anyway, I grew up in a very WHITE town and neighborhood.  We didn't get our first people of color in our neighborhood until I was in junior high and it was quite the scandal!  There were only Christians living in our neighborhood (at least as far as I knew).  No one mowed their lawns on Sundays and if they did, my mom sure had a few words to say about them as we drove passed them on our way to church.   As a little girl we had black (I use that term because of the times we are talking about) maids come to our home to clean every week.  They called me Miss Martha.  The only time you saw people of color come into our neighborhood was to clean houses.  Plain and simple.  And in 1st grade, the way I remember it, my school district that was all white decided to desegregate.  They were going to bus the white kids from the white neighborhoods into the black neighborhoods to the black schools.  They did this by bribing us with cool after school activities such as ballet, gymnastics, piano.  (Now when my mom tells this story, she said, that they were just offering a new "charter" school.)  I am not certain if  this was their way of sugar coating what was going on or not.  But as a first grader, I could see there were no black kids in my neighborhood or in my school, and the place they were sending me had NO WHITES anywhere around them!  I may have only been 6 years old, but I wasn't stupid!

Anyway, I was cool with going there.  Why?  Because I had black maids. And one of the maid's grandsons went to this school.  I knew him cause sometimes he would come with our maid and we would get to play together.

Anyway, I loved my school.  It was an exciting time of seeing new faces and meeting new friends.  But here is where I get to my point.  I was a white Christian girl from proud German decent going to a school far from home where I was being introduced to new cultures other than my own.  This is where I met my very first Jewish people.  We introduced ourselves, and I am not entirely certain why religion or ethnic background came into the conversation of a couple of 6 year old white children (Talk about something that our parents banged into our heads!)  But when we talked about it and I realized they were Jewish, I remember my reply as clear as it was yesterday.  "I am German.  You are Jewish.  I am supposed to hate you.  But I am also a Christian.  Jesus was Jewish.  I love Jesus.  Jesus loved everybody.  So if I can love him, and if he can love you, then I can love you too."  And with that we became fast friends.

If a first grader can get passed the ignorance of discrimination. If a first grader can see to the heart of Christianity and the true teachings of Jesus.  Why can't the adults of this world do the same thing?  If a 1st grader can see that Love is all there is, why can't adults?  If a 1st grade can see that religious views should NOT be a reason to discriminate, then why can't our law makers and the other Christians of today who are saying that protecting LGBT means that Christians will not be protected see that?  I don't get it.  It's so simple, even a 1st grader could see it!

Let down your walls.  BREAK down your walls and let LOVE in!

They Say Silence Is Golden

But did they also tell you just how profound it could be?

Try standing shoulder to shoulder and back to back with 99 of your brothers and sisters in completely silence with your left hand over your mouth while in the other hand holding a picture of a young man who took his own life because of being bullied because he was gay.

Today I met at a corner with half of the group.  None of us really knowing each other, but knew where we were supposed to meet and what we were supposed to be wearing.  Eventually we figured out we were all together and our fearless leader showed up with instructions for the day.  It would be a non-arrest action.  Which meant, we would protest at the State Capitol in such a way as to not interfere with business as usual.  Instead we would just be there to be seen. Once our little group gathered, we joined the other half of our group. Then the entire 100 of us walked together to the State Capitol.  Reverent.

On the way, without any identification of who we were, some man started spouting out hate right at us!  You are all going to hell!  You are NOT Godly!  You are vile!  That cross around your neck is blasphemy!  (It was just a group of us walking with no identification of who we were or what we were doing.)  I think this young man forgot a verse in the bible about "Judge not, lest ye be judged."  He certainly was hateful.  Heck some of these people..maybe even most of them.. were straight allies!  He really had no idea who we were!  We just walked by quietly without talking back to the man or giving him a second glance.

Once we were across the street from the Capitol, those of us who had been trained to be arrested donned our "Add The Words" shirts (even though today was a non-arrest action).  We held the picture of the young man in one hand, held the shoulder of the person infront of us and our mouth covered.  We filed into the Capitol in 2 lines and then stood back to back so that the legislators could walk through the hall ways and see us..and see the you man that they might have been able to save if they would just Add The Words!

We had our own videographers there for our own protection.  But there were other reporters.  There were other cameras.  I had no idea who they were.  We had our instructions. Stand shoulder to shoulder, holding the picture up with our right hand and our left hand covering our mouth in silence.  The hand over our mouth signifies that we have been silenced AND that our legislator has been silenced (since before the session, the Republicans met and were told they were not to even DISCUSS the issue of Add the Words).

As I stool there in silence.  I realized a few things.  It was easier to stand there with a hand over my mouth than I thought it would be (physically anyway).  The energy of my community strengthened me.   But I also found myself tearing up and at one point in time, I was actually sobbing.  I was not crying for fear or from physical pain.  I was crying for the young man whose picture I was holding.  All I could do was keep saying to his face that was looking back at me (as we were walking out of the building), "I'm sorry Kiddo. I'm sorry this world was not a better place for you.  I promise to do my best to make it better so your death will not have been in vain."  I was crying for the young woman nick named "Turbo" from Pocatello who just took her own life due to being bullied for her sexuality.  I cried as I remembered the discrimination that took place at the Junior High dance I chaperoned 10 years ago.  I cried about a conversation I had just had in email with a friend of mine who said, "People don't get fired for being gay." He also said, "He doesn't understand people who are gay."   What is there to understand?  I cried for this ignorance that runs rampant.  And yet, that is WHY I was standing there!  So that we will be able to share our stories and help people understand and get these 4 words "Sexual Orientation" and "Gender Identity" added to the Idaho Human Rights Act.

Such a profound experience.  There really are no words to express how I felt today.  When we exited the building, we stood along the sidewalk just outside of the Capitol Building.  People drove by and honked and waved in support.  School busses had kids hanging out the windows cheering for us.  The PEOPLE WANT THIS....soon the legislator will understand... they HAVE to.  Actually, they are beginning to.  The Senate President said this conversation might be worthwhile.  FINALLY!!!  It's some movement in the right direction!  Change will and IS happening.  We just have to keep the momentum going.  We have to stay visible.  We have to keep going back and back and back again.

Rockin' to Show Tunes Out In the Sunshine!!!

 Good thing no one was around to hear my glorious singing (or yodeling as the case may have been).

Today was such a GORGEOUS day in Boise, Idaho!  Since my hubby is injured (yes, we have a knack for being injured at or near the same times) he could not drive himself to work.  He was only planning on staying until lunch. I took that time to visit Eagle Island State Park and take advantage of such a glorious day!  The sun was shining.  It was just fabulous!!!

Since I injured my back on January 1st, I have not done much exercise.  My walking has been relegated to "gentle strolls" on the tread mill and possibly outside, but not far, that is for certain.  I have been able to do some weights too, but nothing major.  When I first started walking, it was a 30 minute per mile pace.   I was so sad, but at least I was doing it.  I have been on the treadmill a couple of times and have done just a mile at time or 30 minutes at a time, and gotten my pace down to 20 minutes per mile.  That was better.  That was my *slow* pace for hiking up crazy steep climbs in the mountains.  But it certainly beat 30 minutes per mile!

Today, out in the sunshine on a dirt road with uneven terrain, while texting and emailing, I did about 6 miles at a 19:39 pace.  If I hadn't stopped to take pictures and if I had stopped emailing and texting while walking, this pace would have been faster, but I needed to keep myself in check anyway.  This was the longest and fastest I have gone since my back injury.  So far, I feel pretty good; though there is a part of my back that needs some attention.  I think I need an adjustment, but I'm afraid to do that until after I see a surgeon to get cleared.

It truly was a beautiful day, and I have missed the trails so badly.  I am just not a gym girl.  I belong outside running in the mountains or riding my bike on the greenbelt or country roads.  Seriously.  I also realized just how much I miss my belly dancing.  I want my life back.  I want to be able to dance.  I don't need to be able to run, but I want to hike the mountains without fear.  I want to ride my bike without fear and I NEED TO DANCE!  *laugh*  Little by little.  I'm getting there!  And I'm seriously grateful for the time I got to enjoy out in the sun today!

My Why.....

To protest or not to protest......this really is a no brainer!


Some of my friends have asked me why I want to get involved in the protests and possibly get arrested,  isn't there anything else that can be done to get the lawmakers attention?  I asked a previous Senator, the one leading these protests, and the community has tried everything.  But for me, even though I write my Representatives almost daily, it is about something more personal.

My daughter is openly Bisexual and in 8th grade in public school.  When my oldest son was in 9th grade, I chaperoned the 9th grade farewell dance.  I watched in shock as "straight" girls were dancing like strippers doing as good of a bump and grind as you might find at the night clubs adults go dancing in.  NO ONE said a thing.  But my son did not hang out with those "popular kids".  You know, the kids who played football or the cheer leaders.  He hung out with kind of an "outcast crew".  Among them, a lesbian couple.  This group of kids were minding their own business and having a great time.  When my son's group finally convinced the two lesbians to kiss. I watched this from my perch.  It was a sweet kiss.  It was not tonsil wrestling and nothing inappropriate.  These two girls genuinely cared for each other.

What happened after that not only angered these teenagers, It angered me beyond words!  The other parents from across the cafeteria and the VP of the school were "shocked" and "mortified".  The VP came zipping across the gym, took the two young ladies outside into the courtyard to berate them.  My son's friends were fuming and ready to form an angry mob.  I calmed them down.  I told them that would not help.  I asked them to step away from the door.  (It was , after all, my job to keep them safe and out of trouble.) I told them that I would take care of things. I would not let this kind of discrimination happen.  I told my son, to talk to the girls and if they wanted my help, to come and talk to me.

The girls were so upset.  The VP of the school and given them some pretty big threats.  Not just for the rest of the dance but in school in general.  And yes, they would like my help.  The very next day, I was on the phone with the school board asking for the name of the person in charge of dealing with discrimination in the schools.  I also called the ACLU.  Guess what?  LGBT was an unprotected class.   I also wrote the Principal of the school explainging how outraged I was at what had happened.

These girls had not been bumping and grinding inappropriately.  As a matter of fact, all night long they kept pretty far apart if they couple danced at all.  What they did do was share a simple kiss of true affection.  Why were they picked out of a whole cafeteria filled with kids dancing completely inappropriately?  Because they were lesbians.

In the end, the Principal was made to apologize to them for their behavior.  Actually, he also almost lost his job after I raised such a ruckus.  As a matter of fact, he didn't talk to me for years after this happened.  Nate went to that school just a couple of years later, and the VP would not even look at me.  As a matter of fact, he wouldn't talk to me or look at me until he realized Nate was a track star and he needed to be nice to me.

The thing is, its not just kids bullying LGBT kids in the schools.  It's the very people we trust to take care of them when they are out of our sight!  The same kind of thing can happen at work when our kids reach the age of working.  We need to stand up and protect them. If not now, when?  When its too late? When they have been bullied so badly, they have decided to take their own lives?  I won't stand for it.  I wouldn't stand for it when these young women were 14 (and they are now 24/25) and I won't stand for it now 10 years later!

That is my why.  Now if only my own personal injury and Tracy's recent injury will cooperate with the dates when I am called to stand with my community.

Am I Good Enough????

"Not everyone deserves a medal."

So a runner friend of mine posted this picture on her wall today and it reminded me of another post from a different friend (who doesn't run or do sports and really hates team sports for kids).

So my friend who posted an article or video (which I did not read watch/read) went on about how she hates the fact that every kid gets a medal at the end of a sporting season.  She believes that if your child sucks at a sport, you should not coddle them and tell them how great they did out on the field that day, but rather tell them that they suck and and stop wasting everyone's time.  Then find something that they are good at.  Then she said that is why her one child will not be playing soccer again but her other child is being signed up for little league.  Now I know this woman loves her children and she is totally allowed to have her own opinion.  But this just got to me for different reasons, but it actually offended me.

So I had to stop and ask myself, "Why does what she had to say offend me?"  And it dawned on me.

I was that kid.  I sucked at softball. I was on a team, but when and if I was put on the field, I was put in right field and everyone sighed and hung their head low when I went up to bat.  "Swing and a miss!"  In soccer they put me in the positions closer to the goal cause I could not run. Let's face it, I was the fat kid who was slower than slow.  But I LOVED soccer!  I even liked playing goal tender...even if I was constantly getting the air knocked out of me!  I LOVED the game!  My older brothers grew up with the game.  They ref'ed the games.  My dad (when I was very little) ref'ed the games.  Soccer was very important to my family.  So of course, I wanted to play.  But I sucked!  My team didn't, but I did.  Or at least I felt like I did.  But even though I sucked, my mom was at most of my games.  My dad never came to anything, but that is a different story.  And I LOVED my trophies!  Why?  Not because I felt like I was the best at something, but because I was OUT THERE!  I was part of something.  I was having fun and that trophy was a reminder of the good times.

When I was in 5th grade and on the track team, I was allowed on the team, but never allowed to actually run.  Again, cause I was the fat kid who couldn't run to save her life.  But I loved being there and cheering on my team.  Were my parents there? I don't remember. I kind of doubt it.

As an adult, I joined a volleyball team.  I played indoor and outdoor leagues with the same team.  After a year or two, I was asked not to return because I was not "competitive enough".  In other words, "You suck, go some where else."  But I LOVED the sport!  I still do!

As we had kids, my boys played soccer and little league.  They were not the best. They had their strengths in one or the other.  But we went to every practice, every game and we cheered them on like they were stars and we always encouraged them.  And yes, we were those parents that when our kid had a rough day on the field, we said, "You did great honey!  I'm so proud of you!"  Why?  Because they went out there and played with their heart and gave it everything they had....even if it wasn't good enough for some parents....it was good enough for us.  Did this give our children a false sense of confidence?  No.  I do not think so.  What did we teach them?  We taught them, that they are team players, that giving their best was the best they could do for the team, and above all else, you give it your all...no matter what.  You don't quit.  And when they don't win, they learned to take a loss with grace and dignity.  When they messed up, they learned how they could have done it better.  And when the time was right, they decided that sport was not for them.  But at long as they were having fun and it was building their self-esteem, then I was all for them being out there and I was there rain, shine, cold, hot to cheer them on. They were not wasting my time. If it is something they are passionate about, even if they are less than stellar at it, who am I to tell them "you suck, find something else to do with your life."?  Yes, I am their mom and I should guide them in ways that support their success, but part of that is also teaching them to follow their heart and to learn on their own what is good for them and what isn't.  You can be great at something and HATE it.  What fun is that?  Life is meant to be an adventure and fun and to try new things until you decide that its just not worth it anymore.

My kids, for the most part, are grown and done with sports. I still have a teenage daughter that plays sports in school.  She was a phenom at sprinting, but she decided she didn't like it.  That about killed me cause I saw scholarships in her future.  She opted for Tennis.  She wasn't a natural at it, but she did pretty okay.  But she was learning a new sport!  She is in volleyball and is junior varsity..not strong enough for varsity.  I have watched her grow by leaps and bounds.  But the thing is, she is out there doing it.  She is out there learning!  She is out there risking herself!  I can't ask for more.

But still, why did I take what my friend personally?  Well here is why.  There are countless Marathon elitists out there who believe, if you do not completely run a marathon, then you are not a real marathoner and you have no business at the starting line.  There are some that say, even if you run, if you can't finish under a certain time, you have no business at the starting line.  You are not a marathoner. "You SUCK and you don't deserve that finisher's medal."  I am a marathoner.  I have completed 5 marathons, 4 half-marathons and 1 ultra-marathon.  In ALL of these races, I have walked some if not all of the courses.  NONE of them were easy!  Some of them were down right painful.  Some were a total blast.  But ALL of them were a test of will, strength, stamina, perseverance and the result of months/years of training (well except my first one..where I truly had no business being at the starting line *laugh*).  But ALL of them were races that I feared.  Why?  Because if it wasn't scary, then everyone would be doing it!  They ALL test you at one point or another.  They are ALL growth experiences.  After each race, you stop and ask yourself, "What could I have done better?"  But I tell you this right now.. I don't care how long it took me..if I was dead last or not.. I DESERVED each and every medal I received at a finish line!  Why?  Because I got out there and did something others fear to even think of doing!

And that is why every child who plays a sport..whether they are spectacular and a natural at it or whether they need a bit of encouragement..deserves a trophy at the end of the season.  Because they got out there and they gave it their all!  They got out there and played and took a risk of getting hurt.  They got out there and were vulnerable to the scrutiny of the other players and parents who watch them.  It's a tough job being an athlete and every child should be encouraged to follow their desires to play sports (whatever that sport is).  Especially in this day and age of childhood obesity...they should be encouraged, not told they suck and move on.  They should not be told "stop wasting my time."  They should be encouraged to get out there and move and keep reaching and keep striving to become better...until one day, they decide it is time to move on.  As parents that is our job.. to coach them, support them, love them, and be their biggest cheerleaders...even if what they are doing seems a bit torturous!

Just Another Day On The Couch.....

Remembering the things I am grateful for.

In case you didn't know; it is snowboard season here in Idaho.  The snow really hasn't been the best, butt hat doesn't mean I don't miss snowboarding.  I am grateful I got to go for Christmas with my family before I injured my back.  But today, Tracy and Omi went with our friend and her kids to one of my favorite ski hills.  Yes, I am jealous.  I am not going to lie.  I want to be out there shredding it up and laughing and having fun.  Though, with that said, I am the one who encouraged him to call Tami to make the date cause I know he needed to go and he won't go by himself.  So I'm glad he is out there having fun today.

An update on my back.  I have been going to the gym and doing what I am allowed to do.  I thought I was getting better.  I am even sitting on the couch the way I used to without the help of extra pillows.  So that is progress.  I know most of you don't know this, but I had originally tried to see my favorite surgeon for this issue, but he was taking too  long to review my records and get back to me.  Instead, the surgeon that my primary care physician referred me to contacted me first.  I liked him. He was cool enough.  But a couple of days ago, my favorite surgeon called and said they can finally make an appointment.  At this point I was not experiencing any real pain. I have not been on pain killers and I felt like I was on the upside of treatment.  Tracy and I agreed that I did not need to see him (even for a second opinion); we would just wait another couple of weeks for my follow up with the current surgeon over seeing this issue.  Then IT happened.... Tracy and I were making out like a couple of high schoolers.  (We are prone to do that.)  When all of a sudden, I felt that disc try to "pop out" for lack of a better word.  It is the strangest feeling.  It terrified me. Tracy didn't know what happened, but he knew something happened cause everything about me changed.  Later, I explained and I was worried about my back.

The next morning, my back was a bit tender.  I specifically walked around and did things in hopes of stretching it out and keeping it from getting bad.  It hasn't gotten bad, but I can tell you that I do not feel the same kind of "peace" with my back that I had been feeling.  And today I have a bit of pain.  Nothing huge, but I know its there.

I have decided to make that appointment with my favorite surgeon.  Not because I think the current surgeon (and I can't even remember his name) is blowing smoke up my arse.  I just want some reassurances.

I know I should live in the present and not worry about the future.  And I have been doing that.  Until this incident with Tracy.  Here is my concern.  Yes, my back pain is next to nothing now.  But what if I go back to the doctor on March 6th (which was scheduled for a follow up) and the pain is gone and the doctor says, "Well, you are cleared to get back to life.  It looks like it cleared itself up." (which was the hope)  Then I go back to life as previously lived and BAM I'm down again.  I realize at that point, I would opt for surgery.  And I realize that there is nothing I can do right now to change that outcome.  But truthfully that is what I am worried about.  That I have spent 2 whole months doing NOTHING or close to nothing and STILL end up with surgery when I could have just said, "give me surgery" 3 weeks ago and today be back to walking vigorously and a real training plain in progress.

Anyway, I made the appointment with my favorite surgeon to get his thoughts and I guess a second opinion.  I feel a little silly using him for a 2nd opinion since I think he is pretty fantastic and I feel like I might be wasting his time a little bit and I know he is always so busy.  But I would like to know what he thinks.  I trust him with my life.

In the mean time, I am sitting on the couch while Tracy and Omi are out snowboarding, hooping and hollering it up.  Nate is out moving mountains with his new job.    And on my agenda for the day?  Finish the first book in the Marry Poppins series and maybe start on the next one.  I bought 3 books in the series, PL Travers Biography AND the 50th anniversary edition of the movie.  I'm an all or nothing kind of girl (in case you didn't know that all ready).  And ever since seeing Saving Mr Bank, I  have had some questions about Mary Poppins (since I don't ever remember seeing it as a child and I certainly never read the books!)  I am learning a great deal from reading the books!  Who would have thought!

Russian Nesting Dolls.....

Just another way of looking at integrated personalities.

A couple of nights ago, my family and I went to see the movie Saving Mr. Banks.  It was a great movie and brought up some of my own "daddy issues" and the abuse I went through as a kid.  Even as I type this, more comes to mind. But I will stick with my original thought with this blog.

I do not want to focus on what happened to me as a child. I guess if you really wanted to know, you could ask me and I would tell you.  What I want to focus on is the result of the abuse I went through.  It may be of some importance to know and understand that my family (once I came out and told them what had happened to me as a child) did not believe me and thought that what I was saying was physically impossible.  So every time I write about it and post it where they can publicly see it, I have this little girl inside of me that cries out for fear of rejection.  But I have learned that I do not need acceptance from them to know what happened to me.  None of them lived near me when the repressed memories came back. None of them saw my personalities split.  None of them saw the damage left it its wake.  If they had, they would understand.

Anyway, So what exactly did happen to me after all of it?  Most of my life I only had a few memories of abuse.  I had the physical and emotional stuff and only one memory of sexual abuse.  And as sexual abuse memories go, the one memory I had was pretty benign.  Anyway, in 2000, all of the sexual abuse memories came flooding back to me.  Not all in one fell swoop but over several months.  But the moment in which they started coming back to me, I learned that the abuse was so horrific, my consciousness had to split in order to keep me alive and sane.  Which meant, I had multiple personalities.  (Finding that out at age 30 explained quite a bit of some of the things I did as a teenager.)  And one of the personalities (the first to show up) was a 4 year old little girl named Ginny.  She didn't talk much.  Mostly she rolled up into a fetal position and cried.  When she did talk, it was the voice and vocabulary of a 4 year old.  Imagine Tracy's shock when this happened.

I will say this right now, my husband, is an absolute saint!  He is the strongest and most gentle man I have ever known.  Had it not been for his gentle patience and love, I would have never survived.  He knew how to make the little girl in me feel safe.  Heck, he knew how to make ALL of my personalities feel safe and heard.

Anyway, it took YEARS and lots of therapy to integrate the personalities.  And its been a long time since I have really even given them any thought. (Although, now that I am thinking about it, I guess we did give them some consideration last year when I bonked my head and I had a bit of a personality change (but not like multiples this time..just a change in how I do things and what I like), and my PTSD was triggered.  So we did give the multiple personalities disorder some consideration last year.

So, here I am.  2014, nearly 45 years old with fully integrated personalities and have completely forgiven and am GRATEFUL for what I went through as a child.  "It's all good."  Then I see this movie, and they play a bit of Chim Chim Cher-ee and it instantly took me back to my messy room and my favorite music box.  It was the strangest feeling.  It wasn't like I switched personalities, it was just a good memory...or at least a memory of comfort.  That music box used to comfort me. After I got home and blogged about the movie, I felt another strange sensation.

(This was not the music box I had growing up...its just an example)

I was lying in bed talking to Tracy about my thoughts and feelings that had come up because of the movie. I was trying to process my feelings.  I checked in with my body (the way I used to check in when I had multiples).  What I felt and what I pictured in my head was the image of Russian Nesting Dolls.

In general I feel as though I am the largest of the nesting dolls and my multiples that were integrated were the littler ones that fit into the bigger ones until they were all inside the bigger one.  That is the way I picture integration.  And in remembering that song, it wasn't just a memory from my brain, it was a complete body and consciousness memory.  And what I felt was that little tiny nesting doll deep inside of me through all of the layers of the older personalities that protected her.  I could feel each layer all the way down to little Ginny.  That part of me felt happy and safe when listening to that song, and every part of me felt happy and protected.  It was the most amazing feeling.  I'm certain my words do not do it justice and it is probably something you would have to experience to understand.  I know Tracy tried to understand, but try as he might, he just didn't understand.  

Anyway, I just wanted to share that experience.  It is amazing how a smell or a taste or a piece of music can take us right back to a certain place in time.  It truly is a magical experience.

Saving Mr. Banks... or Saving My Dad....

Or was it really about saving myself?.... (Spoiler alert..............don't go any further if you have not seen the movie or care....)

Okay, so please forgive me.  I know you all know that I have sustained a Traumatic Brain Injury that can affect my memory...especially my short term memory.  So I am writing this blog as fast as I can before I forget things (and I already have *groan*).

So I can't remember seeing Mary Poppins as a kid.  I'm sure I must have, but I must have been very little.  But in the  movie Saving Mr. Banks, as soon as it played the music for Chim Chim Cher-ee, it took me right back to my incredibly messy bedroom with my most favorite music box playing this peace of music and the way it made me feel.  I loved laying in my bed surrounded by my stuffed animals listening to this music and closing my eyes and drifting off into my dream world where everything was perfect and I danced like there was air beneath my feet and as I was as graceful as a butterfly fluttering around.  Such a peaceful and beautiful memory.

But to be honest, other than some of the songs from the movie, I do not remember a thing about it (like what it was about).  And until tonight watching the movie, I had NO IDEA it was about the authors childhood and the relationship with her dad!  Wow!  Now I want to read the book AND watch the movie!

Anyway, As I watched the movie tonight, I gathered it was about her father.  You saw his drinking.  You saw him getting sick.  You could see her struggle with her memories, and my heart ached a bit for her.  But it wasn't until she was back in England and Walt Disney went to visit her and he shared his story that I really truly got it!  Then all of a sudden I saw not just my dad, or me but also my son Nate.

First let me say... My dad was a dreamer.  He had a whole head filled with dreams that he never followed.  He was prisoner of his own dreams and the failures in his own eyes.  He was the prisoner of his past from his own abusive childhood.  He never had anyone believe in him (I think).  I don't know.  But he always had huge dreams and never knew how to make them happen it seemed.  Why do I say that, I guess because he was always dreaming of being a millionaire and truly believed that he would win the lottery one day.  But there were other things from my childhood that I cant place.  And there are things that I can.  Like him taking me up to this huge high rise in downtown Dallas to an exclusive diamond dealer.  I got to walk into the vault at this dealer's office and he took out these rare diamonds and taught me all about diamonds and gave me the jewelers lens to look at them.  Gorgeous.  But I didn't truly understand.  I was just in elementary school.  My dad used to take me to jewelry stores and have me pick out the most exquisite pieces and tell me that one day he would buy them for me. He never did.  He would take me car shopping and have me hand design my dream car from the pamphlets and tell me that was the car he was going to buy me; he never did. I ended up with a Yugo in 1987..far from the car he had promised me.  Don't get me wrong.  I am not ungrateful, but these are just a few of the dreams he lived with and instilled in me.  And just some of the heart breaks I grew up with when I realized these were just pipe dreams.

My dad taught me to be a dreamer, for better or worse. I have had some amazing dreams of owning some really great businesses.  And I have shared those dreams with my  kids.  I have never followed through with these dreams.  And now, my son Nate, is the dreamer.  His brain works in magical ways and he totally believes that anything and everything is possible; unfortunately he has parents who have their feet too stuck to the ground to find a way to really help him reach his dreams.  That breaks my heart.

Anyway, back to my dad, Walt and Mrs. Travers.  Walt started talking about his own  hard childhood and the abuse he went through.  He said his dad was a good man.  You could see that he had forgiven his dad for what he had been through.  And he rose beyond it, and even honored his dad by giving him a special place on Main Street in Disney Land and Disney World.  He said you can change the ending to be what you want it to be. You can change your story. Just because it wasn't the happiest, doesn't mean you have to be unhappy and continue to remember it that way. You can change the ending. You can stop telling the story the way you have been telling it all of these year.  You can change it and make it happier!  That is our job as storytellers!!!!  (As a "professional storyteller" that one really hit home to me!)  As a child of an abusive father, that one really hit home to me.  For the most party, regarding the abuse, I have done just that.  I went through things no one should ever go through, but I have turned them into positive things.  But there is a portion of the movie that touched a portion of my life I guess I still have work to be done on.

The Pears scene in the movie really got me right in the gut!  I have no idea what "Mr. Banks" died of; though it looked like possibly cancer to me.  In my mind that is what happened.  He sent his little girl to get pears and he died while she was gone.  My father (on his cancer death bed) was sending me off to get diet cokes and sweets.  No he didn't die while I was out getting them....but it hit me. Maybe that is WHY I am so stuck on diet coke!  It's my connection to my father.  Maybe that is why I have such a hard time giving up my morning diet coke and sweets habit. It is my connection to my father.  More importantly, it is that connection to my little girl who still believed my daddy was going to buy me the beautiful jewelry, the amazing car, diamonds from an exclusive diamond dealer in a high rise in downtown Dallas.  More important than the jewels or the car is the accomplishment of my daddy's dreams!  And he let that little girl down.  So as an adult, I continue to let the adult in me down by staying connected to this by making poor food choices.  I dream of being this amazingly fit human being just like my dad dreamed of being this rich person.  He didn't feel worthy. Neither do I.  Wow.

This is certainly a movie, I am going to have to watch a couple of times and take notes and digest a bit deeper.  But for right now, I am grateful for the memories it brought back and the lessons I am retaining at least long enough to write them down.

Wow.  Just Wow.

Happy Valentines Day!!!

A love letter from my trail running shoes...

Dear Martha,

I realize the road to find each other was a long and treacherous one.  I understand that you went through many other shoes before you found us, and once you did, it was love at first site.  The minute we were put on your feet, we knew that this was meant to be and that together we would all travel some beautiful and dirt filled miles! 

We were so excited to get dirty with you.  We were excited to get muddy with you.  We were prepared for the long hard miles you were going to put us through.  

We remember our first run together with your running friends.  We were excited to show you exactly what we could do for you.  You had so much faith in us.  Let's face it, who takes a brand new pair of shoes out for their first run when the distance is scheduled for 22 miles?  Thank you for having that much faith in us.  We had so  much fun romping through the dirt and dust with you.  It was a gorgeous day!  Even if some of it was really hard!  We remember the conversations we had with you and your feet and the goals we all set together.  It was an exciting day to actually FEEL your passion for the sport we were created for.

And we were totally excited to share the huge victories that were coming your way, like finishing your first 100 mile run at the end of March and becoming a finisher in the Idaho Ultra Trail Series this year.  We also knew that at some point, during this journey, you were going to have to find a twin set to swap us out, and we weren't even jealous.  We were going to practice compersion and be totally happy that you shared your love of running the trials with another pair of shoes and that we got to share you with another pair of shoes.  Cause let's face it, to run that many miles and reach those huge goals, it just takes more than one pair of amazing shoes.  It might have even taken a commune of shoes.  And that is okay as long as we could be part of reaching your goals.  

At the beginning of January, when you realized you were going to have to put your running on a hiatus, we completely understood. When you decided to take up Yoga (which required bare feet) and Spinning (which required your cycling shoes), we didn't feel neglected.  We only wanted what was best for you.  Then when you realized that your back was so injured that you couldn't even do THOSE things, we sat in the closet and cried for you.  We love you and totally understand what you are feeling and missing out on.  We miss it too.  

When you laid flat on your back and cried as you felt yourself gaining weight and cried from physical pain and cried from emotional pain and just felt like you were going backwards, we cried for you too.  Our mission in life is to help you reach your goals and we felt powerless sitting in the dark closet listening to you cry.  We wanted more than anything to be able to slip over your feet and let our laces hug with the huge bows you tied.  But we also had faith in you.  We have seen your courage.  Heck, we have FELT your courage and your strength.  We have felt your determination and your joy.  You may run us hard, but that is what we like.  That is what we are made for.  So we KNEW it wouldn't take you long to get back out there at some point.  And when you were strong enough, we KNEW we would be the first shoes you reached for. We had faith in you!

So today, even though it wasn't the first day you have worn us since your back injury, we just wanted to send you a love letter on Valentines Day and thank you for slipping us on your feet today and taking us to the gym (even if the gym is not what we were built for).  We wanted to thank you for loving yourself enough to never give up.  We wanted to tell you just how proud of you that we truly are.  We know that you look at the dreadmill and wish you were in the mountains. We know that you look at your pace on the dreadmill and dream of your faster days.  But today, you did a 20 minute mile which is the fastest you have done since January 1st!  You have shaved off 10 minutes per mile just in the last couple of weeks!  And we have been there to celebrate with you.  We watched you today as you did leg weights and you increased the amount you were lifting. And even though we were not getting dirty, we celebrated because we know this is what makes you happy. We know that soon, you will be well enough to do everything you love doing (including those things that don't include us).  Why?  Because you are our favorite runner!  You are the most courageous runner we know.  We love you and your impossible to fit feet!  We were made for you and we are here to support you and your impossibly high arches in any way we can...even if its cheering for you from our shelf in the closet!  We love you! 

Thank you for taking care of yourself on Valentines Day and for letting us be part of it!!!!

With love,

Your faithful trail running shoes.

Saw the Spine Specialist....

Good News and Bad News....... Really trying hard to see the good news

I know my life could be so much harder than it is right now. I have friends who can't even walk cause they  have Duschene's Muscular Dystrophy..not only can they not walk or feed themselves but this disease could eventually take their lives.  I have ultra marathon running friends who can't run right now cause they are battling cancer and the treatments are harsh.  I have a friend who served our country and lost his legs and he can't run or even walk right now.  Yet, all of these people are making the best of their lives.  So who am I to be sitting on my couch crying right now and feeling sorry for myself?  Yet, I have to tell myself to feel the sadness and disappointment and frustration and then move on.

So I have a ruptured disc.  I was able to see the MRI results for myself today.  Dr. Floyd explained that unlike most ruptures that rupture through the thinner side of a disc, mine has decided to push straight out on the thicker side.  Which means it hurt like a mother f***er AND it has not ruptured all the way through just yet.  Which on the plus side means it has a chance to heal on its own.  That is the good news.

The bad news....."I know you are a very active person, so this is not going to be easy to hear, Martha.  But this means, no running, no cycling, no dancing, no yoga, nothing that will agitate the trunk of our body."  This is when I said under my breath but loud enough for him to hear and snicker.. "Well shit."

What can I do?  I can stroll.  No power waling.  No strenuous hiking.  I can go to the gym and use machine assisted weights that support my arms, but no presses.  I can use leg presses and legs machines.  I can do squats with no weights.  Nothing that stresses out my lower back or twists it and turns it.  Can't even use the elliptical that is taking up space in my living room cause it moves the arms which will torque the trunk of my body.

I have a follow up appointment for March 6th.  Hopefully the news will be better.  Unfortunately, this means I may have to miss my last belly dance performance with Mearah and my belly dance sisters before the dance studio switches hands and who knows what will happen.  That performance is in Early April.  I am so sad.

I signed up for spin classes on Groupon, I need to get that refunded before it expires since I can't use it. I signed up for the St. Luke's Weight Loss challenge but I dont' see me coming anywhere near to winning if I can't get any strenuous exercising in.

I'm sure there is a reason and a plan for all of this.  But right now I am just pissed beyond measure.  Yes, I still have the gym, but it is NOT my favorite place to be.  I miss dancing and smiling like I do in all of the pictures I see when I dance.  I miss running in the foothills.  I miss riding my bike.  I miss being active!

Tracy is such an amazing husband.  He says, "Well, I guess that means you and I are going back to our evening strolls together."  And Yes, I guess I can go to the gym with him and do the express workouts (even if I have to skip one or two machines).  I was just telling him that we are watching too much tv and not spending enough quality time together.

This could be so much worse, and I realize that.  I just miss my life the way it used to be when I used to run and frolic through the hills with my friends!

Can someone please send me to a beach where I can walk on a beach relax in the water and continue recovering and healing in the sun?  Thanks.

The Ugly Truth About Labels.....

And not the kind you find on your cans of food....

The other day, Naomi and I were standing in the check out line while the cashier rang up our grocery cart of food and stuff.  This was a very nice, soft spoken and feminine man. At Wally World, the uniform is kaki pants and a navy blue shirt.  This young man had on the required pants and a navy blue sweat jacket/sweater, but underneath the sweat jacket was peaking out a pale-pink, long-sleeved T-shirt.  Over the top of the wrist of this pale-pink T-shirt was the blingiest wrist watch I have ever seen on a man.  It was a gorgeous watch.  I love watches.  I always have.  It think it is a shame that we have all turned to our phones for time keeping. (but that is beside the point.)  Anyway, needless to say, I notice watches, and his was gorgeous.  Of course, I complimented him on his watch.  He kind of blushed and very softly said, "Thank you."

Now, I hate stereotypes, but they are stereotypes for a reason.  In my head, I assumed this young man was something other than straight.  My assumption was that he was gay.  And in this day and age, especially in Idaho, I felt it so very important to be nice to this young man. You could tell by his demeanor that he felt low about himself, for who knows what reason. I don't care why he felt the way he did.  If I could bring a smile to his face by complimenting him on his watch and saying, "Thank you. Have a great day." Then that is what I would do.

As we walked away, Naomi asked, "Mom, do you think he was gay?"  My reply, "Yes.  Why do you ask?"  Of course, she went over the same things I had noticed.  And that started a conversation about stereotypes and labels.

"Naomi, why do you think labels matter?"

"I don't know.  I don't really care about them."

Then she went on and said, "I have this gay friend at school who has a crush on this other kid in choir.  I think its cool."

Then I thought about the way *I* talk and the way I describe my friends when I am talking. I know that my daughter must have picked (at least SOME) of this up from me.  Naomi, why do we say, "I have this 'gay' friend?"  Why don't we say, "I have this friend who has a crush on this other friend at school and I think its cool?"  "Why do we say,  'I have this African American friend who......'"

Naomi's reply, "I really don't know, Mom."

"Well, Naomi, when you are talking about Makenzie do you say, 'I have this white friend who.....'"

She laughed out loud.  "No!"

Exactly. I told her that I am just as guilty of this.  And last night as I was drifting off to sleep this conversation came back to me.  Why do we do this?  Why do *I* do this?  And more importantly, why did I teach my child this?

Is it a matter of describing my friends, or is it something else, something more deeply rooted.  I do not think I am prejudice, but this kind of talk seems as though I might be. I don't say, " I have this straight friend..."  Or "I have this white friend...."  So for me to describe a friend who is anything other that straight or white by using labels seems rather discriminatory and upsetting to me.  I thought long and hard last night. Do I use this type of language EVERY TIME I talk or do I use it in certain situations as a means of describing a friend as it pertains to a situation.  Like after running across a seemingly gay cashier and we are on the conversation of homosexual males and Naomi starts in on a conversation, "I have this gay friend in choir who has a crush on this other boy in school, and I think its cool."   I don't know.

Do I use race as a description when I talk as a means of describing someone important to the conversation and using race to describe them is important to the context (like the person I am talking to needs to know this person is African American because the person I am talking to does not know them).

Is that what labels are for?

People are so much more than the labels that we give them.  There are all kinds of labels to describe the different facets of what make us up.  Labels of our race, skin tone, gender, sexuality, learning abilities, social standing.  Labels are just adjectives to describes parts of us.  Kind of the same way our clothing can sometimes describe parts of us.  Yet labels do a huge part in keeping us separated from each other.

Tracy and I watched a movie over the weekend called Workshop.  We had no idea it was going to be a documentary.  But it was a documentary following this man and several people who attended this self-help seminar.  It used alot of "new agey" type thinking.  But a main part of this workshop is that people ended up naked.  Why?  To strip themselves of "labels" and "preconceived notions" of not just who we thought we were, but also what other people thought we were based on our clothing.  It was a way to strip away this outside shell and get beyond labels.  That is kind of what uniforms do at Naomi's school, but getting naked gets down deeper into the root of the matter (not that I would even begin to suggest that for schools....the uniform thing was just an ah-ha moment).    When we strip ourselves of clothing, there is  nothing that separates us from the next person. We are completely vulnerable and able to get to know someone from a heart level (notice I said heart and not genitals...get your minds out of the gutters).  This is what I love about nudist beaches.  There are no pretenses. There are no worries about what other people are thinking; after all they are naked too!   It's only the people in clothes who sit and judge the people without clothes on.  You will never find another naked person on a beach judging another naked person's body.  It just doesn't happen.  We are all beautiful in our bodies..in every shape and size...in ever color...in ever race.  Without the clothing to tell us how much money we spent on our clothes or maybe what our jobs may be, it is up to us to get to know the person for who they are without the preconceived labels and notions.

What would life be like if we did that with our clothes on?  What would life be like, if we came across someone who is completely clothed and got to know them at a  heart level without saying to ourselves.. "This person is wearing a very nice suit, he must be made of lots of money!"  Or, "This woman is wearing a tie dye shirt, she must be a dirt worshipping, tree hugging hippy!"  What if we could let go of  judgements and labels and just listen and get to know that person in a suit and find out that he is the single parent of 5 kids, is funny, sweet charming and smart!.  What if we could look at the woman and find out she has such an amazing artistic and side to her, and Wow is she smart!

But then there are times when labels seem necessary.  I constantly describe myself as a bisexual woman.  Why?  Because as long as the LGBT community is fighting for equal rights, it is important for me to stand out and be who I am and to let people know that I am not just bisexual but I am a happily married, strong, beautiful, independent, amazing human being who is raising strong independent happy well adjusted human beings!  It is important for people to see that the LGBT community is filled with NORMAL people (well as normal as I can be..which is about as normal as many straight people I know.)  As long as people see LGBT people as separate, I will stand out and show that I am not so different than those people who are straight!  Its my way of showing people that we are more alike than we are different...its just the labels that keep us separate. And until people can let go of the labels and stop seeing people as separate and start seeing individuals as part of a whole, then discrimination will continue to happen.

Right now, the people of Idaho are fighting for civil rights.  No I am not talking about same sex marriage (though that would be nice), but I am talking about the right to work and live where we want regardless of sexual orientation or gender identity.  We are asking that those four words be added to the Idaho Human Rights Act to make people of the LGBT community a protected class such as those of race.  Several cities in Idaho have added the words, but the state has been fighting for 8 years to keep the words off of this law.  It's time Idaho to stop living in a state of separateness and unite all peoples and protect all peoples and to let go of labels that hurt us!  It's time Idaho to protect ALL people so that they can keep their jobs and have fair housing.  IT'S TIME!!!!