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Dow plunges below 10,000. Here's a dahlia to distract and comfort you.


  Fantastic Dahlias 
  Originally uploaded by GraceD

Oh, the flower doesn't cut it?  Yeah, I'm with you on that,  but I thought I would try.  Nice try, eh? Gaaah!

Before you go back to monitoring your 401(k) and trying to placate your mother whose retirement portfolio is going south along with your 401(k), I have a tiny bit of unsolicited but perhaps helpful advice - you might want to take up gardening.  I know, you'd rather take up gardening if involves picking up a hoe to wave it around menacingly in the peasant revolt coming to a village near you.  I hear you, I'll be at that anti-government demonstration, too.  But, there is a great deal of solace that comes with using these landscaping tools  in the dirt, whether for dahlia bulb planting or digging a patch of your yard for an organic veggie garden.

I've been hiding out in my own patch of earth, prepping the soil for perennial and vegetable planting.  Here in our part of Northern California, we do our Spring planting in October, before the winter rains that abate in March.  That must sound odd to you dollins outside our climate zone.  While you're raking leaves, we're doing that too along with planting baby delphinium plants and sweet pea seeds.  Last week, I flung a quarter of a pound of native California wildflower seeds on a bare hill.  We'll have a nice field of velvety wildflower seedlings by Christmas and full bloom in late February. 

Getting down and dirty in this wholesome way has saved me on many levels.  Gardening gets me out of my ever buzzing head.  The mind chatter disappears when I'm triple digging compost into our hard clay soil.  Afterwards, I feel like I've done a yoga practice session - hurting (A LOT) but clear headed, calm and grateful.

The downside to getting lost in the compost and multiple packets of seeds is that I don't want to do anything else.  I become a hermit, a cloistered monk.  I have to be dragged away from the raised beds (which will be planted with fava beans for ground cover over the winter, then dug into the dirt in the Spring as a nitrogen rich soil conditioner), then shoved into the shower to get cleaned up for dinner, the movies, or to the book signing last Saturday in San Francisco -  a  big, happy fun time that deserves its own post and a bunch of links to spectacular bloggers/friends who politely said nothing about the dirt under my nails.

(I will say this one thing about the book signing - Maggie Mason, arbiter of excellent style, loved the Hubs' red rimmed glasses.  I couldn't stop talking about Mighty Girl's validation of the Hubs' taste on the 60 mile drive back to Santa Cruz.)

So, for today - more shoveling, raking and planting; writing; Jack Russell Terrier and teenage daughter wrangling and the occasional peek at the business news.  I will try my best to "Keep Calm and Carry On."  I hope you will, too.

After the debate, come to our book signing!

**UPDATE**  I won't be able to attend tonight's signing due to unbloggable events.  I will be at the Saturday signing no matter what!

Dang, I wish we were having the book signing for Sleep is for the Week at a margarita watering hole, but we will have the next best venue, Kepler's in Menlo Park, CA, one of the great independent bookstores in the country which happens to be -  right next to a bar!

Sleep_2 Oh, forget my lowly barfly ways.  Kepler's is a cozy, wonderful setting and tonight, I will be there, sitting behind a table with women with whom I'm humbled to call my esteemed co-authors:  Stefania Pomponi Butler, Jenny Lauck, Jenifer Scharpen and Lisa Stone.  (That's Stefania looking sultry and Jenifer looking winsome.)

The very nice blurb from Kepler's:

Thursday October 02, 2008
Kepler's in Menlo Park at 7:30 p.m. (1010 El Camino Real Menlo Park CA, 94025)

Sleep Is for the Weak: The Best of the Mommybloggers Including Amalah, Finslippy, Fussy, Woulda Coulda Shoulda, Mom-101, and More!

Seeking advice and a sense of camaraderie, more than half a million readers per month turn to the "mommyblogs" featured in this collection, which brings together their best and brightest essays, ranging in style from snort-Diet-Coke-out-the-nose funny to poignant and bittersweet. Written to be read during the mind-bogglingly short breaks parents get during their busy days, these pieces will help moms find solace through a wide range of viewpoints and issues not often discussed in mainstream magazines and parenting books--from dealing with rage to negotiating sleeping arrangements to experiencing the frustrations and joys of parenting a special-needs child.

 

Then - we're going to do this all over again on Saturday at 5pm in downtown San Francisco - this time at a bar!  We'll still probably need to do some drinking post-VP debate, or post Union Square shopping,  or just because the drinks are free.

Saturday, Oct. 4
Sleep Is for the Weak
Swig in San Francisco from 5-7 p.m. (561 Geary St, San Francisco, CA 94102)

Both events are sponsored by our pals at Graco - they rock with their generous sponsorship of our book tour.  They're also represented by rockin' women (HELLO LINDSAY! F*CKIN A, DUDE!) (That's how rockin')

All righty then. Come on down, I'll be dressed up and wearing lipstick.  Sarah Barracuda has nothing on my MAC enhanced lips.

Paul Newman - Believer in Luck

Painful news this morning - we lost Paul Newman. 

In this video from Newman's Organics - co-founded by his daughter Nell who resides in the next town over from us - Paul Newman says he's a "great believer in luck." 

Lucky indeed -  We should be so lucky to have been as successful as Paul in all of his many endeavors.  We should be so lucky to race fast cars and win those races and we should be so lucky to share the movie screen with Elizabeth Taylor. We should be so lucky to have raised millions of dollars for philanthropy through great salad dressing.  We should be so lucky to have loved your spouse as deeply and as long as Paul has with his amazing wife, Joanne Woodward. 

We should be so lucky, but we should also be so willing and committed to do the very best we can in our lives.  This is the lesson of Paul Newman's life.  We are lucky to have had him in our lives.

At the end of the video, he bids us farewell.   This must have been filmed in the last few months as it is clear that this magnificent man was so very ill.   But, Paul Newman's last words to us are robust and compelling - he urges us to "just lay back and raise hell."

Then he said "...bye." 

Peace and love to all.

Back to the Land

My kid's dad is out of the hospital, I am armed and dangerous with new allergy/asthma meds and the polls are still looking great for an Obama win.  Praise the Lord and pass the taters.

That's all good, but this spooky economic crisis continues and my response is to start digging up the garden.  Growing our own food suddenly makes sense, going off the grid is just as sensible. Think I'm getting all survivalist on you dollins? You may think right.

However,  these ambitious agricultural endeavors are not limited to growing organic vegies, I am also getting the land ready for two June events - Molly's graduation from high school and the wedding of our kid Jenn and her very excellent partner Mike.  We're thrilled to be hosting the graduation party as well as the wedding and reception. Our house has been tested successfully for large scale events, of which the most significant of these occasions was the Hubs and my wedding in 2000.  We had the fenced off area of our land converted from an eroding hill to a multi-level garden with a stone patio.  Landscaping the yard for the wedding was cheaper than renting a venue for the wedding and we were rewarded with great results.

2863708843_96371c0246_2 Unfortunately I don't have the before and after pictures of the landscaping scanned. I do, however, have a picture of me sniveling and snorting during the ceremony.

Sadly, in the past eight years, I have have let the garden go.  For this I blame the rattlesnake I saw in 2002, coiled under the pine tree adjacent to the raised beds.  I am a snake wuss of the highest order and because of that, I have not been in the garden since.

Really, this is no way to live.  I have access to a lot of dirt and it's a shame to just let it go.  So, earlier this year I planted some heirloom tomato seeds, sat them under a light on the kitchen table and watched them grow into seedlings then real plants.  I felt like a happy third grader, triumphant with her science project.  Snakes or no snakes, poisonous vipers or harmless king snake, I had no choice but to get my tomatoes out of their yogurt cartons and into the outside dirt.  And I did that, though I planted way too late, like June, and I expect we'll harvest in the latter part of next month.  We can get away with that in Northern California, our warmest months are September and October.

I'm a self taught gardener, which means I've done some foolish if not blatantly wrong things in and around our dirt.  I've killed many plants by positioning them in sun that's too hot or shade that's too chilly.  I have over fed, over pruned and under watered.  The latest gardening crime I committed was to plant the heirloom tomato seedlings too close together  and that doofus move resulted in one giant tomato bush.  Big, big no-no as you really need to get in between the plants to add compost and weed.  Now I have to commando crawl under a canopy of tomato branches to get those essential jobs done.   

2832606403_8236722ba0 The one big tomato bush.  Error duly noted and I will never plant so close together again. Live it, learn it, but, in the meantime, crawl under it.

I do give myself many breaks. I have indeed documented my failures and the successes in spiral binder notebooks because I'm a wonk that way. I also wonkishly conduct extensive gardening research both online and at our local nurseries.  Most importantly, I am uncharacteristically patient as a gardener.  In most things of life, I'm a twitchy-nervous, impatient wreck.  Gardening, I am your local Buddah (though not necessarily with snakes.)

The hubs is also supportive and gets me whatever tools I need, though he does get twitchy-nervous when he sees me wandering  outside with the big hedge trimmers, aiming the blades at the overgrown rosemary or the rose bushes.

This time  around, I will be enlisting help for the garden/landscape renewal project.  I've already recruited Moll's boyfriend Jordy (short for Jordan, aka "Jordy Meister" as he asked to be called when summoned by the principal to receive his high school diploma) who has been most useful around the yard hauling loads of clippings and branches to the dump's composting center and doing any and all heavy lifting.  He's also been grand company though I probably talk way too much for his centered surfer sensibility.  When Jordy does speak up, he's delightfully monosyllabic - "Whoa...Cool...Good" and delivers these grunts of approval in low, soothing tones.

I'm also getting estimates on what it will cost to dig and grade terraces for a multi-tiered edible/perennial garden.   A landscaper came over the other day, a really great guy who took a look at my yard.  We ended up talking about a million things including sustainable agriculture in Ecuador where he taught university, how my house can blend into the outside and the outside blend into the house, creating little environments/rooms in the yard, plants that can hold the hill down, and the promise of Barack Obama and why the planet needs him now.  His plans for the yard range from grading and soil prep of the existing terraces along with strategically place plantings to the whole hillside fully terraced on three levels, held up by retaining walls of recycled patio concrete. 

So, dollins, here's what I'm talking about.  Wish me luck. -

Img_0637 The slope that needs to be more clearly defined as terraces.  Jordy removed a very ugly and gnarly rosemary bush from the center.  It now stands as a blank canvas for the edible/perennial garden.

Check out the steps - these are made from recycled soda bottles.  Eco chic!





Img_0633 Another view.  That's a railroad tie you see towards the top of the slope.  Should be replaced with something far sturdier like the recycled concrete.







Img_0635 Our patio.  Once the work on the slope above has been completed, I will be planting creeping thyme and dichondra grass in between the pavers.








Img_0634 The slope leading down from the patio cannot be terraced without screwing up the roots of this giant oak.  For now, I'm going to broadcast wildflower seeds in successive plantings to pretty it up.







Img_0630 We also have this charming little patio that will be revived with plantings and ground cover between the pavers.








Img_0480 Gratuitous picture of Malcolm.  No, he has not been helpful, but he certainly has been decorative, not unlike a garden gnome.

Seven Years Ago

On the day after, Molly wrote and sent this to Mayor Giuliani of New York City:

9112001_2

Hurricane Gustav Evacuation List Links

Hello friends, I'm now off the deck and back online to post this very important message:

I'm receiving an unusually high number of hits on my blog from folks who are Googling hurricane preparedness, evacuation lists, and related disaster rescue and recovery topics. 

You're here because of this post. As you discovered, there's a good list on that entry, but it pertains to evacuation from wilderness/urban fires.  Here are some links to hurricane specific evacuation resources:

The American Red Cross Evacuation Checklist - Can be downloaded as a .pdf or printed from the screen.

State of Louisiana Homeland Security and Emergency Preparedness
- A fact sheet with a brief list - as in "If you have only moments before leaving, grab these things and go!") and an extended list.

Not a list per se, but a wealth of evacuation tips from Katrina survivors on Nola.org of The Times Picayune.

Also from Nola.org and relevant to citizens of the New Orleans metropolitan area, a comprehensive resource guide - New Orleans Hurricane Survival Guide.


Good luck and many blessings to all of you in the hurricane zone.   Please, friends, take care.

 


 

Fine cookin' folks, them Filipinos.

Well, dollins, allow me to jump back into the blog waters with the latest stupid thing Dubya said.  And, this time, it's personal:

From the HuffPo, a excerpt from a White House meeting transcript with President of the Philippines Gloria Macapagal Arroyo:

***************************************

Bushasshole PRESIDENT BUSH: Madam President, it is a pleasure to welcome you back to the Oval Office. We have just had a very constructive dialogue. First, I want to tell you how proud I am to be the President of a nation that -- in which there's a lot of Philippine-Americans. They love America and they love their heritage. And I reminded the President that I am reminded of the great talent of the -- of our Philippine-Americans when I eat dinner at the White House. (Laughter.)

PRESIDENT ARROYO: Yes.

PRESIDENT BUSH: And the chef is a great person and a really good cook, by the way, Madam President.

PRESIDENT ARROYO: Thank you.

***************************************

All righty, then! We at the White House know Filipinos as SERVANTS.  But, rest assured, the President says we're great folks and love America! However, more than anything, we can cook like a mofo!

No doubt that White House Executive Chef Cristeta Comerford can rock it in the kitchen.  This is not unusual - I come from a legacy of excellent Filipino cooks including my grandpa, who was the personal chef of a US Navy Admiral.  I have a lineup of bossy aunts who insist their adobo rules above all others and you'd best agree with them.  Perhaps Chef Comerford operates the same way - love my food Mr. President or you're dead meat, preferably the favored protein of Filipinos everywhere, dead pork.

But, try to see beyond your insular world, George W.  Watch who you're talking to - President Arroyo has a Ph.D. in economics.  Prior to being elected President, Arroyo held multiple federal government appointments.  Even her DNA is a big deal - her  father was President of the Philippines.

In other words, this lady is not going to relate to your clumsy associations between her people and their fine culinary abilities.  In the transcript, President Arroyo was polite, but I sure hope her "thank you" was a frosty one.

For the record, I'm a lousy Filipino cook.  I guess there's no job at the White House or in Kennebunkport for me or for my cousin Kevin, a professor in the poli-sci department at the University of Southern California and former Deputy Mayor of Los Angeles.   Yeah, Cousin Kev, tough luck because you're a lousy cook, too.

Gaaaah, dollins.  Just gaaaaaaaah.

More on Forgiveness

I want to talk a little bit more about forgiveness and what I believe it means in the context of child abuse survivors.

In my previous post, Fatherless Child, I stood up with a megaphone and made what is a startling announcement for many abuse survivors - you do not need to forgive your perpetrator; it is not necessary for healing; if there is forgiveness to be offered, extend it to yourself.

BlogHer founder Elisa Camahort mentioned my take on forgiveness at the estimable BlogHer site.  She commented in response to Contributing Editor Mata H.'s post, What Does it Mean to Forgive Your Father.  Mata, a graceful and thoughtful writer, described her father "wound" that was inflicted upon her by a raging man who terrorized his family as a place she does not want to dwell.  Forgiving her violent father was the way out of that wound:

Forgiveness (at least in part, the part I understand) is the putting down of a burden of bad feeling. It is a Great and Holy Unraveling. It is saying "I will no longer see the world through this piece of pain." It is, for me, a way to freedom.

Though I appreciate this theme, it does come down to this - forgiving the perpetrator is a necessary step to liberation.  As implicit in my Fatherless Child post, I disagree as does Elisa:

From my perspective, this requirement of forgiveness is just another burden we ask the survivor to carry, a responsibility I don't think is necessary or fair.

Further to forgiving the perpetrator, commenter Emma presented another angle to forgiveness in my Fatherless Child post.  Excerpted from her commentary:

"I dunno, I don't quite agree with this...once you fully heal (i.e. feel everything and integrate everything that happened), forgiveness is all that's left.

And I think it does matter to fully heal. Reaching that place of full healing is a place of true liberation. It's not defensive. It's not "I can go live a fulfilling life in spite of you, ha ha". Whenever freedom is accompanied with defensiveness, the work isn't finished.

Which doesn't mean you should beat up on yourself or hold yourself to a standard of perfection. But I do think it means you shouldn't stop there, if what you want is really to heal. Of course living your life, forgiving yourself, is a huge part of healing. But there is more, there is integrating all of the pain and resentment and anger and fear and helplessness and despair until you really see that the pain that you are in is the same pain that your perpetrator is in. And that doesn't come easy, and it doesn't come quickly, but it is worth going for, and it is different than stopping short of that.

To me the goal of healing is not just to "live a life", but to be fully free, to return to Source, to live from a grounded sense of OKness that is so spacious that it can encompass true compassion and forgiveness.

I appreciated Emma's thought that one may come to that place of loving kindness and compassion and that in such a place one can forgive.  And, that one could strive to achieve love, compassion and kindness for all  including one's abuser and that this is "worth going for."

But, for the child abuse survivor, this is not the goal for healing, even for complete healing.  The healing that's worth going for is another story altogether.

To continue, it's useful to define forgiveness.  Clearly, there are differing interpretations of the concept. For survivors of abuse, I defer to two authors, Ellen Bass and Laura Davis,  who gave me and thousands of survivors the will to live when their book, The Courage to Heal, was published in 1988.  They provide a definition of what forgiveness means and how a survivor can integrate this perspective:

To find out exactly what forgiveness is, we looked in the dictionary and found these definitions:  (1) to cease to feel resentment against an offender; (b) to give up claim of requital from an offender; to grant relief from payment.

There are, then, two elements in what we call forgiveness. One is that you give up your anger and no longer hold the abuser to blame; you excuse them for what they did to you. The other element is that you no longer try to get some kind of compensation from the abuser. You give up trying to get financial compensation, a statement of guilt, an apology, respect, love, understanding – anything. Separating these two aspects of forgiveness makes it possible to clarify what is and what is not necessary in order to heal from child sexual abuse.

It is true that eventually you must give up trying to get something back from the abuser. This process need not be hurried. It is appropriate and courageous to fight back any way you choose. However, at some point, trying to get from abusers what they aren’t going to give keeps you trapped. There comes a time when what you feel about the abuser is less important than what you feel about yourself, your current life, and your future. The abuser is not your primary concern. You say, 'I am my primary concern. Whether the abuser rots or not, I’m going on with my own life.'

When a friend inadvertently hurts our feelings and apologizes, we forgive her. We no longer blame her. The relationship is mended. We are reconciled and we continue with trust and respect, without residual anger between us. This kind of forgiveness – giving up anger and pardoning the abuser, restoring a relationship of trust – is not necessary in order to heal from the trauma of being sexually abused as a child.”

If at some point in your healing, you come to feel compassion or understanding for your abuser, that's fine. It's a personal decision, not the goal of healing. It is not essential to your own recovery.

This is what I mean by forgiveness, this is the concept of forgiveness that must be presented to survivors, if it's to be presented at all.  I question that the subject can even be brought up, as any talk and effort in forgiving the abuser distracts from what we must do to honor ourselves, to honor life itself - and that is to work towards getting our life, our selfhood back. 

I refer to the Buddhist teachings of losing self and made an amendment:

One must lose self, let go of self, in order to move beyond human pain and suffering.

But, one cannot lose the self unless one has a self.

Those who were abused had been robbed of self.

Thus, attaining self is the ultimate goal.

You can stop there. Everything else is optional.

In discussing forgiveness, this all important element of coming to selfhood is often missing.  It's a glaring omission and implies to the survivor that once again, you have to put yourself aside and think of others.   

If there is forgiveness, it might, as Mata and Emma suggested, show up as a result of recovery.  I contend that it should not show up at all as part of the curriculum.  Think of it this way - would you ask a survivor of the Holocaust to work towards forgiving Nazis?  Never, it's just not done.  Surviving child abuse is the same, though charged on another level as the abusers are, in most cases, a member of the family.  That's what makes it devastating, the betrayal of family and the reduction of home not as refuge but as dungeon and torture chamber.

Did I forgive my father? Yes and no.  If one believes that forgiving means comprehending the roots of his perversions and violence, then I forgave him.  But, this understanding came from the perspective of my adult self, the one who has the tools and resources to arrive at this understanding, the one whose family and home life is finally safe and nurturing.  It took me three decades to be able to do this. I don't think that I'm special because of it. I do not tell survivors that this is where they need to go.

As my adult self, I forgave him, the sinner, but not his sins.  I am not in the business of forgiving sins, I leave that to God.

However, I do not forgive him for what he did to my child self, the one who is still alive and hurting within.  I have done years of therapy to alleviate some of her pain and suffering.  But, she still screams in the middle of the night.  She has been crippled and isolated, battered, used as the family scapegoat neglected, shamed and humiliated.  In my EMDR therapy, I''m rewriting the script so I can rescue her, take her away to a place where she is safe,  unconditionally loved and not diminished as a mere sexual receptacle and the object for rage and violence.  This is an incredible journey which leaves me no time or energy to spend on forgiving my abuser.  In fact, forgiveness is not even on the radar and, quite frankly, I am indifferent to the notion. 

My girl self within, like the Holocaust survivor, does not have to work on forgiving those who did this to her.  We do not ask that of children, that's just not done.

I realize there may be some who want to present another way to look at forgiveness or challenge my beliefs,  but I decided to close the comments because I want to have the last word on my blog about forgiveness. It is a subject that will not be approached here unless I need to attend to my brother and sister child abuse survivors and then I'd probably end up re-publishing the Fatherless Child post. 

Anyway, I have more vital, self-affirming things to do like yoga, going shopping with Molly, hanging out with our kids and their kids, laughing with my husband and getting my life back.

Late Bloomer Gets Published. World Comes to an End.

Incredibly, you will read nothing about therapy, dysfunctional families and bad childhoods in this post.  Imagine that! You click over to my url and, surprise! Not only have I published a blog entry for the second time this week, said entry will be free of existential dread and struggle.  We'll save the usual sturm und drang for another time because today is a special day, a red letter day, a happy day.

You wonder, what's going on? Why is GraceD so uncharacteristically upbeat and who put on that damn Kool and the Gang song that's always played at weddings and professional sports playoff victories?

Well, I just want to 'Celebrate' because this hot-flashing baby boomer, this Grandma Moses-like late bloomer, this writer/blogger/mother can officially announce that her ultimate fantasy has been realized: I am included in an anthology that will be on sale at a bookstore near you!

Behold, our book - celebrate good times, come on!

sleep is for the weak

 

I have a story in this anthology that Roxanne Cooper told me a long time ago would be suitable for publishing.  To Rox, I thank you for saying such a nice thing.  I'm proud to tell you that I met your challenge and with this accomplishment, custom dictates that you owe me a round, if not two or three, of salty rimmed, over ice (not blended)  Austin Texas style Margaritas the next time we meet.

I am also indebted-for-life to "my Jenny" (drawled worshipfully in a kinda lame but nonetheless heartfelt imitation of Forest Gump).  Jenny Lauck, she of Three Kid Circus blogging fame and renown, suggested to editor, writer, agent and all around wonder woman Rita Arens that I may have some material for this project.  Ever the professional, Rita gave my submission a thorough shakedown, editing out pictures of my dog and the obscure references that are usual fare on my blog posts.  She was able to format my little tale of yelling at Molly then desperately wanting to escape to a Menopausal Hut into a short story.  For this, not only am I indebted-for-life to Rita as well, but I will handing over my only born, the aforementioned Molly, to the Arens household.  Rita, you're getting a deal - Molly is just a year and half away before she's 18 and kicked out of the nest to the cold, cruel world.  Thus, you have escaped Molly's middle school years and toddlerhood. A bargain, I'm telling you.

There are parent blogging superstars in this anthology, and the Table of Contents is not unlike the roster for an amazing music festival where I am an opening band (like, dare I say it, Feist?) to Radiohead-quality rock star writers of these beloved blogs:

Amalah
Binkytown
Birdie's New Mexico Time Machine
CityMama
Finslippy
Friday Playdate
Fussy
IzzyMom
Laid-Off Dad
Mom-101
Mommy Needs Coffee
Mommytrack'd
Motherhood Uncensored
Not Calm (dot com)
Paper Napkin
Rancid Raves
Surfette
Sweetney
The Modernity Ward
The Naked Ovary
Three Kid Circus
Woulda Coulda Shoulda

Adding to the glam and bling of being published, we will be doing book signings.  Be warned, someone responsible better monitor my activities at these book signings, lest I get all full of myself and sign off in the smart-ass way that David Sedaris autographs his books.  Our lovely Rita Arens, who is far more couth than David Sedaris or I could ever be, will kick off the "Sleep is for the Weak" book tour on May 17 at the Kansas City Literary Festival.  Book signings are confirmed for July 18 at BlogHer, August 29-30 at the Decatur Book Festival, September 4 at the Kansas City Barnes and Noble, and September 13 at The Full Circle in Oklahoma City. 

More "Sleep is for the Weak" events to be announced, including book signings in California where I will be on hand to conduct a bonus tequila shot drinking contest for parents of teens and/or toddlers.  Think I'm kidding? You'll have to show up to find out.

Those who need to get a jump on things can pre-order our book from Amazon, Barnes and Noble and indie book sellers, Booksense.  Official release will be September, 2008. 

I can barely stand it, dollins.

Love and blessings to all,
GraceD

 

Disaster Management

I'm back home in Santa Cruz.  In truth, I've been back for a week.  Once again, I did not fall into the abyss. But you, my Dollin Readers whose generous attention you shower upon this humble bit of bandwidth, knew that I'd be back.  Thus, here I am.  And, so, hello.  Again.  Good to see you.  I missed you.

I've been thinking about the recent natural disasters a seemingly angry earth has released upon its inhabitants.  I've been thinking that my problems are nothing next to those of the disaster's victims.  That may be true, but that should not distract me from my ongoing work in therapy.  I need to reinforce that truth to myself, hence this blog post. 

I also want to reinforce that truth with my Dearest of All My Dear Readers, any of you who are survivors of child abuse, or depressed, or undergoing a crisis of heart and/or soul - anyone who is working on their stuff like I am and who feel like their problems in the face of all this chaos are nothing.  These issues, our issues, are important and you must continue your work of seeking enlightenment and freedom from your pain.

But, it's easy to get overwhelmed with the suffering of others.  I certainly am.  What happens is that I identify with the victims and see the parallels of their life with mine.  Then I slap myself silly for thinking that my lot may be half as bad, even one/millionth as bad.  Then, I'm back to square one, where I'm feeling like a shit and loathing myself for breathing.

What it's like for me:

This morning  I woke up to the clock radio tuned to NPR news.  The reports from correspondents in China described the  earthquake's devastation as so utter and complete, I couldn't move.  I went perfectly still. I listened to the stories of mothers wailing at the site of a school collapse, their children under the crush, broken, suffering or dead.  Residents refusing to sleep in their homes, fearful of the aftershocks, and setting up camp in parks and the center of traffic roundabouts.  Chaos and destruction many times worse than what I experienced in the Loma Prieta quake of 1989 which killed 67 people.  The 7.8 quake in the Sichuan province has claimed 12,000 by official count, but doubtless will rise to at least 20,000 deaths.

Then, the NPR story segues to Myanmar and the chaos and destruction there, made worse exponentially by a totalitarian government's refusal for international aid.  Most survivors have no food, clean drinking water and shelter.  Bodies bloat and rot in the rivers.  The estimated death toll will likely climb to a million people.

By this time, I had to get up and out of my stillness, start my day and remember to maintain a balanced perspective. I  know I can become completely obsessed with a disaster half a world away.  Glued to CNN with the laptop teetering on my thighs, clicking to the BBC, New York Times and the rest of my news bookmarks, I plug myself into the news feed of  storm/quake/terrorist bombings.  It's my subconscious in overtime, in trying to get any and all information so I can gain mastery of the trauma.  If I have that knowledge, then there's control.  If I have control, then I won't be fearful. 

And this is an analogy to the biggest task I've undertaken -  examining my life thoroughly, getting  information so I can gain mastery of my own background of trauma.  But, rather than simply gathering the facts as I do during a disaster, the job in uncovering the truth about myself involves compassion that I would rather extend to grief stricken mothers in China and Burma.  I have to work very, very hard to tap that place of mercy and sympathy and give it to myself.  Why should I be focused on abuse that happened years ago to me as a teen/girl/baby, while these Chinese and Burmese mothers - and fathers, siblings, cousins, friends - are  sorting through the rubble, desperately looking for signs of life?

The answer to that is many fold, but I can sum it up with a twist on a Buddhist precept:

Save all sentient beings. And, start with yourself.

That's hard to get, especially for women.  We women put off our happiness.  We risk our health.  We place ourselves last.  For those of us who are survivors of child abuse, we're downright professional at self-neglect.   Why should we care about ourselves when those who should have cared for us fucked up the job?  If you're like me, that's an old imprint, one that's currently taking time, energy, money and patience from my family to erase in therapy. 

But, reclaiming my self worth at this point in my life is necessary on a critical, if not emergency level.  I've wasted a lot of time feeling stuck and defeated.  This doesn't work anymore (and, really, it never did).  I want to be fully functioning, I need and deserve to be whole. 

This seems easy for a comfortable American middle class woman to say on her blog.  At least I have food, at least I have clean water.    Not only do I have electricity, but I have a phone connection and this laptop, so at least I'm in communication with the world.  I'm not waiting for the high energy biscuits and water to be air dropped from a UN plane and I'm not looking at a heap of concrete blocks where my apartment used to be.  But, because I'm in this position of relative luxury, I owe it to myself to take advantage of the resources at my reach to help heal my own PTSD.  I owe it to the world to heal myself as the planet can use more  healthy, whole and loving folks. 

So, shout out to all of you in the struggle to attain self.  Don't stop, you're important. The world needs a healthy, whole and loving you.