In Chapter 5 of Broken Open: How Difficult Times Can Help Us Grow, Elizabeth Lesser tells about her friend, Ram Dass, and his experience with a stoke that he suffered in his 60s. He explained that the stoke created a crack in his ego. His description of the cracked ego provided clarity to the quote of Leonard Cohen, “The crack is where the light gets in,” and of Rumi’s “The wound is where the light enters.” Ram Dass explained that the loss that he experienced as a result of the stroke coincided with grace taking his ego. His perception shifted from ego to soul, where ego caused fear of such things as a stroke. He said, “When you bear the unbearable, something within you dies. My identity flipped over and I said, “so that’s who I am – I’m a soul” I ended up where looking at the world from the soul level is my ordinary everyday state. And that’s grace.” Further, he says, “When you’re secure in your soul, what’s to fear? Since the stroke, I can say to you with an assurance I couldn’t have felt before, that faith and love are stronger than any changes, stronger than aging, and I am very sure, stronger than death.”
The loss of Blake is physical in nature, but not an illness like Ram Dass’s stroke. The day before I listened to these words, a former student and person who has had her own struggles and fought her way back from the depths, wrote to me that she was telling a friend about how I’ve stood up and advocated and shown my soul. She said that I’m a “bright light and soulful person.”
Then I heard and felt the words of Ram Dass. I cannot imagine an event that will break my ego more than the physical death of one of my children. By saying this, I am certainly not challenging the Universe to show me anything different. I know though, that the breaking of my ego allowed the light of my soul to shine brighter.
In the shadow of Blake’s departure from his physical being-ness, I didn’t want to gain anything, no matter what it might be – personal growth, kindness from others, much less anything tangible. It wasn’t for me to decide. I just saw a meme that reflects this. It says, “Darkness gives birth to new light.” The new light comes from the cataclysmic earthquake that knocked my ego off of its comfortable axis, giving birth to more soul presence. With more soul presence, I too feel “faith and love are stronger than any changes, stronger than aging, and. . . stronger than death.”
This is my experience. My first ego shattering event occurred at a tender age, vey early in the development of my ego. Through the years, my feelings about my mother’s abandonment of me have ranged from sadness to anger to bewilderment, but these days, I wonder if it wasn’t a preparation. But for that initial event, I may have just shattered altogether. This primal wound installed the first layers of hard and soft, of courage and soulfulness.
I was listening to Broken Open on Audible while driving, when I heard these words from Ram Dass. Before this section, there were other paragraphs and sentences that got my attention, but when I heard these words, I knew I needed a hard copy of the book immediately so that I could read and re-read as needed. These words literally took my breath away. They are a message from Blake. I stopped the recording after the sentence about faith and love and drove in silence.
If you’ve followed my blog, you know that the words ‘faith’ and ‘love’ were part of the last conversation that Blake and I shared just hours before his fatal overdose. I have written about why he may have chosen to have those words tattooed in prayer hands at his next tattoo appointment.
I believe that addiction took Blake’s ego away, even though this would most often be equated to being a necessary component of recovery. Addiction shattered Blake, and he literally had nothing more to lose. His soul saw the evil all around him – in the desperation of people stealing his clothing, even his underwear, while he was in rehab, the greed of people who illegally coordinated his health insurance and sent him to certain treatment centers, the actions of people who brought substances into the very treatment centers where he was supposed to be finding recovery. He saw it all, and he was relieved from what he saw. He was provided a physical exit from soul searing pain. This was his recovery – the way he was shown fierce grace.
But before his exit, Blake dropped the words ‘faith’ and ‘love’ on me. Yesterday he let me know, through Ram Dass’s words, that “faith and love are stronger than any aging, and . . . stronger than death.” He already knew this. His exit gave me fierce grace.
On Monday, I had the opportunity and honor to be on a Zoom call with 2 other moms and representatives from an Oregon recovery advocacy group regarding the start up of a parent led advocacy/support group as an arm of that organization. At one point, it became evident that the reason for telling our stories was misunderstood. The misunderstanding caught me off guard for a second until I remembered that perspective is everything.
Specifically, the words ‘exploiting’ and ‘sympathy’ were used. The organization was concerned that they did not want to exploit us for our stories, and another mom, who was not present, was concerned that she would cause people to feel sympathy by telling her story.
I had to address this, and sometimes in the moment, I surprise myself with my spoken truth. I asked for further clarification and then explained my position as a parent.
For many of us, our children’s addiction/SUD started in their teens, a time when ‘normal’ teens are going to homecoming and prom and playing sports or going to sporting events. The parents of these ‘normal’ teens support their kids by showing up and being involved in these activities. Not us. We’re home, hiding in the shadows, often afraid that someone will find out what’s happening behind our front door.
This was true for me as a school district employee. There were a couple of trusted friends who I could talk with, but for the most part, I probably suffered from imposter syndrome. I was so good at being present for and making a difference for other people’s kids, and I couldn’t figure out how to fix my own son!
So, no, I cannot be exploited by being asked to speak about my son and the disease that plagued him. I showed up for him by making phone calls and doing research and getting him to appointments. When his SUD was active in his young adulthood, I showed up by picking him up in the middle of the night, by visiting him and sending him books when he was incarcerated, by sitting with him while he was sick from detoxing, by taking him to his monthly Suboxone appointments 3 hours away,… No one who hasn’t loved their child with SUD can understand. I want them to understand!!!!
I did all of these things for my beautiful boy in the shadows, where SUD thrives. I was not ashamed of my son, but I felt the shame that society would cast on us, on him, if they knew. I felt the look of the pharmacist’s eyes as they glanced in our direction to get a look at who was picking up this prescription. I would silently stand next to Blake in a show of solidarity, and then we would walk out together and I would take him to lunch. We would sometimes check-in on Facebook at one of our favorite sushi places, but we never checked in at Fresh Start (the Suboxone prescriber) or Rite Aid.
Blake tried, he really really tried, he wanted it enough, he hit rock bottom, we had boundaries, our relationship was strong always, and he and we still lost. So you know what? I’m taking that spotlight, and I’m shining it on this fucking disease at any opportunity I get! I’m doing that for Blake, because he expects nothing less, and I’m doing it for all the families who have lost and for their children who are with my son. Mostly though, I’m doing it for the ones still fighting, who might feel like I did, who would do anything to help their child and feel the need to protect them at the same time.
So no, I cannot be exploited by asking me to tell our story. It’s how I show up for my son and support him now. It’s all I have left. And if our story evokes sympathy, well, we don’t need or want any sympathy, but if that’s all a person feels, at least they’re feeling something.
I want to add that I recognize that not everyone will feel compelled to stand up in front of an audience and tell their story the way I have and will continue to do, and that’s completely okay. We all have different talents and all of us are needed. And I’m sorry if my use of the f-word offends you, but SUD, and the stigma that surrounds it, deeply, deeply offends me, and I feel that word is appropriate in the context.
Standing at the storefront in the rain next to Thom, I handed Sarafina’s leash to him, as I told him, “You know I have to go in here.” Stepping through the door, I was surrounded in rich colors and fantastic patterns, clothing that sparks my imagination and appeals to my funky and free style.
I moved slowly through the store, soaking up the textures of the materials through my fingertips, forgetting that Thom was waiting outside with our puppy. I was aware that I was the only person in the store besides the person at the counter. As I got closer to him, I commented on how much I appreciated the store and expressed my wish to be able to dress in clothing like this every day. He responded that he heard this sentiment from many of the people who came into the store.
As I continued to meander through the fabrics and designs, we engaged in casual conversation. Some may not think the conversation was casual, but as a mother to a son on the Otherside, whose birthday it was that day, it was casual. He shared that the store is his mom’s and that he made the decision to move from Colorado to Bandon to help his mom. He was knowledgeable about the merchandise, and the extent that his mother went to in bringing this store’s products to this location. I remarked that just being in the store, I know I would like his mom, that she must be just magical. He said, “That’s a good description of her – yes she is.”
Trying to choose one thing, or a couple of things, I was overwhelmed. It took me back to a shopping trip that we took with Blake to Woodburn Factory Outlet. I told my new friend about this, how I saw these shoes, grey high-tops that were adorned with silver studs and chains, designed by a daughter of one of the rappers from Run DMC. I tried them on and walked around the store in them. I loved them, but they were pretty impractical and kind of expensive. They surely weren’t shoes that I would wear on the daily and probably not even monthly. So, I left them at the store. When we were putting our purchased items in the car, Blake stopped and looked at me, kind of accusatorily. “Mom, where are your shoes!?!” I told him that I decided not to get them, that I didn’t need them. He said, “Mom, you love those shoes. You need to go back and get them.” And I did. And I am so so glad that I did. I have this memory of him recognizing how much I loved something – some thing – that he knew I wanted, and because of that, he wanted it for me, even more than I wanted it for myself.
I told my new friend that it was my firstborn son’s birthday and that he was on the Otherside. I told him that he would tell me I could pick whatever I wanted. I could feel that. It was not just some excuse to go crazy in this store, which I didn’t. It was a message of gratitude from him. But there was this dress, this flowy purple and blue dress of creamy fabric and so much free spirit style that it nearly sashayed itself right off the hanger and across the floor. The blue and purple are significant because sapphire and amethyst are mine and Blake’s birthstones.
I didn’t buy the dress. The price tag was heavy, and it wasn’t really practical. It wasn’t a need. I told my new friend I would think about it and come back the next day if I decided to buy it. We parted ways.
That night, as Thom and I were enjoying our Happy Birthday Tribute to Blake Sushi Dinner, I was thinking about the day. There were really no signs. I’m especially aware of and open to signs on days like this. We planned to enjoy meals that Blake would enjoy, and really, with very little open for a weekday breakfast where we were, it was a sign that we found some really good chicken fried steak that morning.
There were no orbs though, no coins on the ground, no messages sent through technology. These are the signs that I’ve been most familiar with, although I am aware of deeper signs. The deeper ones though, might be missed if I’m not paying attention. I no longer believe in coincidence.
Then I realized that the biggest sign, the most beautiful sign, was this interaction with this person, who before I walked into The Spirit of Oregon in Old Town Bandon, I had not spoken with. This person shared the extent to which he was willing to go for his mother; he shared the love that he has for his mother. I knew – that was my sign.
I went back the next day and tried on and bought the dress. It makes me feel ‘magickal.’ Feeling magickal is practical and necessary and love. I told this person – his name is Jack – the name of my paternal grandpa – that before Blake passed, I didn’t think about the afterlife, but since his passing, I think about it often. I intentionally read about and talk about signs. I told him that he was the messenger of the sign that I received on Blake’s birthday, and I thanked him for sharing the love that he has for his mom with me. He told me that he was glad that he shared with me, and he provided a little more of the backstory. When you know, you cannot unknow, and I know – Blake took me to that shop on his birthday, and he blessed me with this message and this magickal dress. From Jack’s compassion and openness to my gratitude, which I realize might seem over the top to many, I believe he may have needed to hear the story of Blake just as much as I needed to hear the story of his mom.
Last year at this time, I was so scared to leave 2019 behind. I had this ebbing pain that came with the loss of Blake – this fear that turning the page to a new year and a new decade would somehow separate us even more. What I’ve learned is that while time measures how long we’ve been physically distant from each other, my heart cannot read a clock or a calendar. I know there are hundreds of mothers joining the club of mothers who have lost a child to substance use disorder/overdose/poisoning every day, and we should all be alarmed. We should all rise up and demand better from our systems, our communities, and each other. What I would tell these mothers though, is that you will always love your child. You will think of them every single day, every waking hour. Look for them, they are with you. Look for them in the good times; and be aware of their encouraging presence during the challenges.
This past year has been a mixed bag for me personally. I entered 2020 knowing that I needed to take some time for myself. I had been showing up to do the work of my previously unbroken heart during the months since Blake’s passing, smiling pleasantly for the children, trying to be present for them, all while carrying this immense weight that I could not let them see or feel. This made me incredibly tired. I also felt guilty because I knew that they were not getting what they deserved. I saw a doctor who granted my request for a medical leave of absence for the month of February.
February – Blake’s birth month, and the first birthday that we would spend without his physical presence on Earth. While he spent his 22nd and his 28th birthdays in in-patient treatment, and his 27th in sober living in Los Angeles, this new separation was final. We were navigating a new normal. It just so happened that his actual birthday was Advocacy Day at the state legislature, and I was offered a platform to speak about my heartbreak, as a mother who lost her child to substance use disorder. The afternoon before the event, I sat in the passenger seat and wrote, as Thom drove us to Salem.
The next day, we got up early. I put the final touches on my poem that I would read on the steps of the state capitol, and we found our way there. It felt good to keep his memory alive in the presence of so many who understood, and to speak with legislators about what this disease is doing to families and communities and what is needed to make positive change. I made lifelong friends that day – other mothers who know and understand the pain, whether their children are with Blake or are still struggling to break the chains. By the end of the day, I was tired. Thom and I stopped at a favorite sushi place that we both frequented with Blake when one of us would take him to his monthly appointment with his Suboxone doctor in Portland. The sushi didn’t taste near as good that night.
That weekend, we celebrated Blake’s birthday with a couple of Blake’s friends and some new friends of ours, preparing some of his favorite foods. This is often a question from moms newly on this journey, “How do you get through their birthday?” What I’ve learned about myself, is that I must intentionally grant myself time to just be with him. After I’ve done that, I can emerge and give myself to the needs and attention of others. On this day especially, I need to love and care for him. I need to cook for him and share him with others.
The next week, I spent two days at La Pine High School, speaking with youth about the realities of substance use and substance use disorder, using my story, and Blake’s story, in an effort to normalize what so many are struggling with, whether it is them personally, a family member, or a friend. I can definitely see myself doing more of this work, perhaps while RVing throughout the United States.
Thom and I ended the month of February with a retreat to Ashland, where we lazily walked through the park, shopped downtown, ate some really good food, and even found and walked into Tunnel 13, the site of the country’s last train robbery. That was a fun hike, but it was admittedly also kind of creepy. We returned home, somewhat invigorated, and I returned to work on March 2nd.
I worked for two whole weeks. I can’t say that I was upset by the news that spring break was being extended by a week, and then a month, and then the rest of the school year. I was suddenly forced to sit my butt down and be still with my grief, and I felt grateful. I settled into a pattern of more rest, more exercise, more cooking and reading, and learning about and doing yoga. I took care of my mind and body and paid attention to my needs. I soaked up the sun, raked our yard, and painted my kitchen.
Blake’s one year angelversary, July 23rd, found us taking a trip to Eagle Point, where we spent the day with him at Lost Creek Lake. We saw him everywhere and could feel the magic of his presence in nature, his favorite place to be.
By August, I felt an ominous cloud hanging over me in regard to the impending return-to-school date. I really didn’t know what to do. What I wanted to do was sell the house, buy an RV, and hit the road. I still want to do that, but it’s not quite time – yet. I had been watching various job sites, and I was struggling with the pros and cons of leaving my 20 year career in education. What I knew was that the stress of the pandemic and the uncertainty that it brought to the daily lives of all I would be involved with would be too much for my mental health. That was the bottom line. I responded to a job posting for a paralegal after researching the firm. Almost two weeks later, I answered a call from an unfamiliar number and passed the initial screening for the paralegal position. The first interview was set and then the second. The job offer arrived in my inbox within the hour on Friday afternoon – two and a half days before I was scheduled to report back to school. Happy dance with tears!
I started my new job on August 31st, shortly after Thom’s dad’s wife passed away. Throughout September, Thom helped his dad settle his affairs in Boise. By the beginning of October, Thom moved his dad into a travel trailer on our property. There is challenge and reward in this transition. Overall, I am happy to be in a position to be able to have Thom help his elderly father. It is challenging to watch the effects of physical aging and to accept the reality of the continuation of the process, both the known and the unknown.
Also in October, Lucas, our youngest son, and his fiance, Kristen, (yes, he proposed in September, and she said YES!) took a long vacation to Montana, where her family lives. I had a suspicion that this vacation would turn into something more. Sitting together at the table, after eating Thanksgiving dinner, it was confirmed. Lucas and Kristen were planning to move to Paradise Valley, Montana at the beginning of 2021. The next day I put a deposit on a puppy.
Knowing that they were getting ready to move out of our home and out of the state, I poured every ounce of myself into the Christmas holiday. We hunted for the perfect tree with Lucas. I scoured the Internet, mostly Etsy, for heartfelt gifts. I shopped downtown stores for local items. I created our breakfast and dinner menu and grocery shopping lists. Right in the middle of December, I picked up my new love, Sarafina. On Christmas, we celebrated a perfect day, our family, as it is, the end of a chapter, and the beginning of a new adventure.
The day ended with a phone call that my PawPaw had passed from COVID, a month and a day shy of his 98th birthday. He was my maternal grandpa. He had been in a nursing home for a number of years, as he had debilitating arthritis, among other ailments. Having not had a close relationship with him, as my mother prefers to deny my existence, I was more happy than sad, that he was not in pain anymore and could now dance on the Otherside. In the days ahead though, I was reminded, once again, that my mother does not consider me to be part of the family that is indeed mine, and I felt the stabbing of her dagger in my heart. I cried that night and rose the next morning. Driving to work, the full moon still in the sky, Blake seemed to be deejaying the radio station. First Train and then G. Love and Special Sauce. I don’t know if Blake ever heard the song “Diggin’ Roots”, but it always makes me think of him when I hear it.
With everything that has happened, especially in the last quarter of 2020, I have neglected my physical self-care, which is tied to my overall well-being. I enter into 2021 with a bit more anxiety and knowledge that I have work to do. That is a constant though. I always have work to do. I am willing to do it. Sometimes it’s two steps forward and one step back. 2020 was a year of huge evolution, a year of experiencing love to and from the Otherside, a year of realizing that sorrow and joy can co-exist, a year of understanding that life is about more than meets the eye, and a year of courage. I am and will remain curious and resilient. I will take courage with me and develop it further, as I carry it into unknown places and spaces. I will take intentional steps to manifest the future that I see, which starts with a recommitment to my physical health, a Zoom meeting with Anna B. David on Tuesday afternoon about writing a book, an 8-week “Sacred Time – Space: Grief and Psychic Phenomena” course that begins in three weeks, and research into starting a non-profit..
I know it’s been a minute since I last wrote, but you and I know we talk every single day. I try not to take up too much of your time, because I know that I’m not the only one who needs you or the only one you want to hang out with.
So what’s been happening since Mother’s Day? Wow! Where to even start…. COVID is still a thing, but that’s kind of boring, and a lot of people seem to like to argue about it, so we’ll just skip that conversation. It’s summer. We love summer!!! We haven’t had many lake days this summer, but the days spent at lakes have been beautiful. We’ve been to Crescent Lake and South Twin near home, and we spent a day at Lost Creek Lake and another day at Willow Lake near Eagle Point, Oregon. Lucas and Kristen joined me and Dad at Crater Lake, and I think we’re going to do that annually in remembrance of you near your angelversary. I’ve spent a couple of afternoons by the river at Cline Falls State Park and many many afternoons in the backyard in or near my inflatable pool. Books have accompanied me to all of these places.
I’ve done a lot of introspection, and there have been some authors/teachers, through their books, that have found their way into my heart exactly when I needed them. This grief journey is no joke, but I feel like I’ve grown considerably in my own journey to self actualization. I will say that the time that COVID has allowed me has been a gift for my healing. I’m realizing and accepting that I’ve been holding myself back, that I have not been allowing myself to live to my full capacity, out of some perceived or self-imposed responsibility to invest in others or perhaps out of fear of losing or failing. This is not good or bad. It just is.
In addition to the books, I met with a shaman three weeks ago. Can you believe we worked together for five hours? I think I’m still processing, but she affirmed a lot of what I already knew. This gave me confidence to believe that my feelings are valid. I know they’re valid, but sometimes it’s hard to believe they’re valid. She offered clarity that it is time for me to claim my life. She said that in terms of wisdom, I know a lot, but that I’m not applying it to myself. She said “You have all of this information and all of this knowledge, and if someone sat down in front of you, you’d say blah, blah, blah, blah. Apply what you know and what you believe and your intuition to you, to your current situation.” I can feel that you agree.
So much of what she said aligns with the literature I’ve been reading. I could and probably should do a complete annotation of Seane Corn’s book Revolution of the Soul. Reading it with a highlighter in hand was good, but I need to digest each morsel of wisdom. I related to her description of being “scared for the wounded little girl in me. Because of my fears, . . . I couldn’t truly serve them.” She was speaking of youth she was serving in a detention facility. When I look through that wounded little girl lens, I see things as I am, not as they truly are. She quotes Carl Jung, who said, “The best political, social, and spiritual work we can do is withdraw the projections of our shadow onto others.” I know that I have developed resilience, but I acknowledge the wounded little girl, and I think her existence is okay, because without her, I would not be who I am today. And today, I am not her. This is what the shaman said:
You literally have to become someone else with no diagnosis, no illness, abuse, trauma or neglect. You have to release the programs of trauma and sickness, and the back story and the personality that goes with it otherwise the future will just look like and become a record of the past that progresses in severity.
We don’t say this to be dismissive of Blake or your past in any way. It’s not about erasing or forgetting but rather allowing yourself to build a new identity without them because they are no longer present and you cannot pretend to be your old self when so much of your personality, habits, beliefs and actions were linked with them. Now that Blake is gone you have no idea who and what you are without his presence and all that you said or did to keep him alive and yourself sane while he engaged in his self destructive behaviors. [Self destructive behaviors are an outcome of Substance Use Disorder.] It’s not just Blake that is gone but also the personality you adopted to cope with his life.
I’m sure you know these things. I know you did not want to burden (your word) me with your problems because you loved me, and you knew that it would hurt me. Perhaps you also didn’t want me to see you as broken – maybe the way I saw myself.
It’s time for me to break up with the identities of the wounded little girl and the mother that sacrificed herself to keep you alive. Those identities served a purpose but trying to hang on to them traps me and blocks me from my current purpose. I will continue to use my pain as my purpose and the empathy that I’ve gained as a result of my journey because I do know “the ways in which the other person wants to run, hide, sabotage, and resist.” It’s wondrous to me that purpose can come from pain, that living life on purpose is dharma, or the soul’s work. Seane quotes Deepak Chopra as he describes dharma as “the ecstasy and exultation of our own spirit, which is the ultimate goal of all goals.”
I intentionally trudge through the muck giving myself grace and patience. I show up for myself and reach for nourishment. I’m opening myself to possibility. The work that I’ve done with youth has allowed me to heal the wounded little girl. She remains as a scar, a beautiful badge of courage, a reminder that I can do hard things. And let me share what else the shaman told me:
Life is just not the same without Blake and you don’t know how to be the self you recognize. The version of you that was so driven to help youth included Blake from the beginning. That teacher, healer, counselor and motivational speaker persona was all wrapped up in Blake. His presence motivated you to change your life so that his life would be better than yours. You both had rough childhoods through no fault of your own. You both made choices that would have led to self destruction. Blake’s conception and your commitment to keep him was a catalyst for change for you. His life changed your momentum and inspired you to change your thoughts, habits and beliefs so that he would not have to suffer the same fate. He was your inspiration and motivation that led you to working with youth with trauma. You were drifting, but all that changed when he came into the world. He was intrinsically tied to your life purpose and now that he is gone you have to ask yourself if your purpose has changed.
Remember when you told me that if something happened to you that it would not be anyone’s fault? I told you that if something happened to you that it would change me in a way that I could not know. But I knew in my gut, as I spoke those words to you. I knew that it just might change the way that I am able to show up for youth. And I was right. I went back to school last fall. I went through the motions, but my head wasn’t in it, even more, my heart wasn’t. I had a complete lack of initiative. I would get upset with myself for not being emotionally and mentally present, for not being committed, for running short on patience.
I ran the tape in my head, ‘this is what I’ve spent my life doing,’ ‘this is what I went to school to do,’ ‘I’ve invested my life in this,’ ‘I have 5 more years to have 25 years in the PERS system,’ ‘I need to stay in public service because of student loans,’ ‘It’s just grief, it will get better.’ All these things, and not one time was it, ‘I love what I’m doing, and I’m going to continue.’
I wondered if Seane Corn was advising me to stay, to lean in, when I read, “So serve where you are called. Serve in a way that is sustainable. Be open to what presents itself. Service may look completely different from how you thought it would look. Serve anyway. Just give of yourself in benefit to the happiness, good will, safety, abundance, and ease of others . . . and watch your own heart open in unimaginable ways.”
I kept this in mind as I was confronted with a recurring question in her book and in “Signs, The Secret Language of the Universe by Laura Lynne Jackson and “Finding Inner Courage” by Mark Nepo. I applied the question to making a decision about going back to school this fall. I asked myself, “Are you making this decision out of fear or for love?” All of the authors counseled that all decisions should be made for love.
Laura Lynne Jackson told a story about a woman named Amy who was unexpectedly pregnant. Her story reminded me of myself so much. Laura is a psychic medium and she met Amy for a reading. She told her, “You have to make the choice, but you have to make the choice independently of your boyfriend. The baby is linked to you. If your boyfriend steps up, great, but if he doesn’t you need to understand this is not about him, it’s about you and the baby. It’s about how your souls are connected.” Wow! Right? This gave me goosebumps. She said, “Amy needed to ask herself what was motivating her choice. If it was fear, it would always lead her down a lower path. But if she followed a path of love, she would find her highest path.”
Mark Nepo starts a chapter entitled “Loving What You Fear” with an except from one of his poems:
Go outside and let the sun spill into your heart.
There. Can you feel it? It’s the quiver of your soul.
It makes you vulnerable but it will never betray you.
Now you and I know that I have no fear of the sun. In fact my doctor just advised me on the proper use of zinc based sun protection. I interpret this as being open, not doing something out of fear of not doing it, but doing it because it exhilarates me – makes me feel alive. Sure, it might be scary, but stay in that space. I labored over the question of fear versus love, and in the meantime, I kept my eyes open for different career opportunities. I applied to a couple and didn’t hear anything. I emailed our local district attorney, as I felt like I could be of value to a law office, serving as a paralegal and possible resource for those struggling with substance use disorder. I was on the right path.
The following week, actually it was the day that I had the meeting with the shaman, I submitted my resume, cover letter, and references to a law office looking for both a receptionist and paralegal. I told them that I was seeking a career change back to the field of law. I explained that I’ve spent the last 20 years working in roles supporting education. Almost two weeks went by. I nearly forgot about this, and the clock was ticking, with just a little over a week until I was to report back to school for the 2020-2021 school year.
Last Thursday night, I was about at my wits’ end. I had so many ideas for how to go forward, and nothing seemed to be working out. I had just finished reading “Signs.” Laura said, “You can ask for help too.” So I said, “Blake, I really need some help right now. I don’t even know what I’m asking for, but I need your help. Please help me.” I went to bed and you came to me in a dream. I don’t have a vivid memory of the dream, but I know you were in it. When I woke up, I felt calm. Two hours later, I got a call from the office manager of the law firm, and we talked for fifteen minutes just setting up the interview, which was set for the following Monday.
This week, on Monday afternoon, I had an awesome interview with the Office Manager and and the Client Relations Manager. By the end of the day, my second interview was scheduled for Thursday, yesterday. It was the best interview I’ve ever had. Everything just clicked, the desire for empathy, resilience, respect, being a community asset, work-life balance, self care – everything. I was so happy when I sat down for the interview in front of my computer. I was only slightly nervous. I felt confident and excited. By the end, I could not stop smiling. Just over an hour after the interview, an Offer of Employment for the role of Family Law Paralegal landed in my email. The feeling? Complete exhilaration! I could not sit down. Tears filled my eyes.
I’ve thanked you out loud, and I heard you, “Have faith mama, I got you!” Thank you my dear angel. I’m learning how this works, how we get to have this healthy relationship, how the love will never die. I do not like being unable to hug you and being unable to hear your voice (outside of recordings), but I know you’re safe and healthy, and we still have each other, and for that, I’m eternally grateful. I’m also grateful that I’m gaining the courage to grow in the grief, and that I get to take you with me.
