The life of a warrior

I've been called a warrior a few times, but never really embraced it as my truth until recently. When I think of the hardship, challenges, the struggles of my life, and all that I have endured in my 45 years on this earth, I am definitely a warrior. According to my google search, a warrior is defined as "a brave or experienced fighter" and when I think about all the battles I have had to fight over the years, I realize I am a warrior. Truth is, many of us are. I am not alone in facing adversity, challenges, hardship, and life battles. When I connect with people and share some of my stories, an exchange occurs, and it's through that connection of shared experience, I have found we are not alone. I have listened to countless people with similar stories of hardship and life challenging experiences and with each encounter, I find there is a lesson, strength, and something to gain from each experience giving rise to newfound growth. Listening to another person's challenges and the strength they found to endure gives us insight and at times direction for our own path. To embody the warrior we must be brave and fight, but we also need to listen. Over the years I have found it validating and liberating to listen to another person's journey and by listening I found the answers I was seeking and the solidarity of support my heart craved. Each experience and challenge has molded me into who I am now and I know at any time my form can be melted down and the process of rebuilding can begin again. To some that may generate fear, don't get me wrong it generates fear in me as well, but it also creates excitement because the rebuild allows us to rewrite our story, and create the path we choose. 

My heart outside of my body
I love the laughter we share and these two...
more than words can adequately express. ♥
Mother's Day 2020

This morning I was reflecting on the struggles of parenthood and how hard it is to be a mother. I love being a mother and feel like I was born to be one, but my God it's the hardest job I've ever had. When people ask me about raising teens today, my mind and heart can easily drift to the highs and the lows. Everyone assumes raising a girl is harder but raising my son has definitely been much more difficult. Not because he's a difficult kid, but because I had to work at finding a way in. And let me be clear, I still have to work hard at it. In many ways, I work harder at finding a way in now that he's entered life as a college student than when I did when he was a child. As a child, he allowed himself to be more vulnerable and showed more sensitivity. He received love and help readily which was easier for me since I'm sensitive, loving, compassionate, and very affectionate. Around the teenage years, he shifted and became more withdrawn. Part of it was the normal stages of development and him finding his way independently, but I'm sure part of it was also from the hurts of life and as a result, he became self-protecting and reserved. He's quiet, very private, contemplative, and STUBBORN. Did I tell you he was stubborn? Even if he needs help he will resist asking because in his mind he thinks he has to do it by himself. I'm not sure where he came up with this limiting belief, and maybe somewhere without realizing the weight of my words I said something to him that caused him to develop this belief. Like I said parenthood is hard. Unfortunately, we can't insulate our children from our shortcomings or mistakes. There are definitely times when I wish I had a time machine so I could go back and correct things. The ability to look into a crystal ball would be so nice, so I could see where I made the mistake. But I can't do either, and the only alternative I have is to keep trying and do the best I can. I joke that he's been difficult since the moment he was conceived, but the truth is he really wasn't difficult, I just had to work harder. He's a really great young man. I couldn't ask for a better son. He's one of my favorite humans and one of the best people my soul has connected with during this life. My daughter on the other hand... yes, she's a teenager and by most accounts, people say teenage girls are hard, but she's easy peasy. We are very similar so it's easy to connect with her and I'm not left wondering about her life. She shares and communicates what is going on in her life so it's easy to be on the sideline watching her and allowing her to grow independently. Unfortunately, that's my biggest obstacle with my son... not knowing and his lack of communication. Either way, motherhood is hard, parenthood is hard. Even having a daughter that communicates regularly and allows me into her world it's still hard. She has gone through her own set of challenges and the world has been cruel to her kind, sweet, sensitive heart. That has been one of the most challenging things to endure in mothering her. The world is harsh and the challenges great, and part of being a good parent/mother is allowing your children to grow and find their way when all you want to do is insulate, protect, and shield them. I'm grateful for both of these incredible humans and the lessons they teach me. I'm grateful for the honor to be their mother. They are the same and yet, so very different. The truth is, I'll always be their mother. And I'll always do my best to protect and support them as they grow and expand, and during the times of complacency and stagnation. I will be a life warrior for them...always.

My mom's birthday 2015

I originally wrote the first paragraph of this blog post on 10/10/19 with the intent of commemorating the life of my beautiful mother. You see her birthday is the 11th of October and I wanted to celebrate her wonderful life as a fierce and strong warrior of life. I also wanted to celebrate my deep love and respect for her. I was trying to process the reality that she was fading from this world and it was quite possibly the last birthday I would be celebrating with her. As I changed my age in the above paragraph my heart sunk. I've missed her terribly this year and yet, because of the world's COVID-19 pandemic, national health crisis, social injustice, environmental crisis, and the intense election distractions, my grief has been abated. I know it's bubbling under the surface and when I feel her rise, I honor her. I sit and feel it allowing the release and the feelings to wash over me knowing this is important to my healing and part of my self-care. Grief is a tricky thing and although the world moves on, our hearts are in a place that takes a tremendous amount of time to heal. It requires grace and patience with ourselves and shutting out the noise and judgment of the world. Most people can't handle the intense feelings of grief so they want the people surrounding them to move on from it too. I learned that life lesson many years ago, so I honor grief and the importance of healing, and ignore the noise.

My mom and I
11/22/18

I wonder how my mother felt about motherhood. Did she feel the same as I do? Did she feel differently? Did she feel it was hard to parent me or easy? What do I know when it comes to my mom and motherhood? I know she LOVED being a mother. I know she was born to do it and she made the decision pretty early on to change her own story and be a better mother than her own. I know that she took the job seriously and come hell or high water she supported my brother and I NO MATTER WHAT. I'm sure there were times she cried herself to sleep and she wondered if she did a good job. Those are the thoughts and questions every good mother asks herself. On some level, I know I was a pretty easy child. I did what was expected of me although I did normal teenage mischief. She always knew I would do the right thing... most of the time, and that I would use my people skills and good judgment to keep me moving forward. The most difficult period for her was after I turned 16 and I was a little out of control. WILD. But she had a wisdom that she relied on and she was a fierce warrior... you just didn't mess with her. She knew exactly what to do and shipped my ass to California to stay with a friend for a month. She knew I needed some time to calm down and find my way. MOTHER WARRIOR WISDOM. After that, I did the normal teenage stuff but I was more grounded and definitely analyzed the outcome and risks before engaging. She knew what she was doing. If she was here to tell you herself, she would probably say her biggest complaint was I was mouthy... talking back and I don't know how many times she said... "Why do you always have to have the last word? SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH!" It annoyed the crap out of me, but she was right. I was mouthy and didn't listen at times resulting in my own struggles and hers as a mother. My brother on the other hand... well, he was a difficult one. Firey, fierce, stubborn, and a huge risk-taker. He said screw it most days, alright if you knew Jon he didn't say screw it, he used other choice words. He took his chances and dealt with the consequences of his actions and behaviors afterward. He was in it for the ride and experience which is a nightmare for a mother. A nightmare for my mother. As his sister, I admired all these attributes about him although it scared the shit out of me. I knew in my heart that eventually, this lifestyle would catch up to him, and unfortunately, it did. This was the greatest burden my mother had to bear in this life... the loss of her son. I can't imagine the pain and won't allow my mind to take me there. I don't know that I would be as strong as her. I think that would officially break me.

Nature's love. Hearts everywhere
Taken Spring 2020 
♥ Redbud leaf ♥

So, what is the life of a warrior? Who is a warrior? As I stated in the first paragraph, "a brave or an experienced fighter." Yes, that was my mother. She came into this world fighting and she left this world fighting. She loved deeply and yet kept her heart at bay. She struggled to find balance in her life and yet despite struggling to find her own balance, she could give you the greatest advice to find yours. She was wise beyond her years and smarter than she thought she was. When I think about all the struggles she had to endure in her life, I'm astounded by her strength. She really was and is the strongest person I have ever met. I learned from the best and she absolutely showed me how to live as a warrior and how to be a good mother. I may not be the best mother, but I always do my best, which makes me a pretty damn good mother. And when it comes to being a warrior... well, I always stand back up, dust myself off, look for the positive, and the lesson I'm supposed to learn, and keep moving forward. And that makes me a pretty damn good warrior. I'll keep fighting and honoring her the best I can... by living life to the fullest, growing, and learning to be better today than I was yesterday.

Surrendering to the journey of life

"The Bow"
© 2018 Toni Becker,
Artfully Healing/Whimsical Jewels

I awoke today with an overwhelming sadness.  The sadness that time is racing by, and I can't stop it.  The sands of the hour glass are speeding up and visually I see the sands falling through my fingers.  I try to contain it by clasping my hands tightly shut, but it's not working.  So here I sit, knowing I need to honor these feelings despite my mind telling me I have a zillion things to do.  My heart reminds me that I am a sensitive and emotional human with empathy and compassion for myself and others, while my head tells me to numb it and stay active with my life and my "to do list".  My ego screams... "No one has time for this, keep doing and it will go away."  Here's the truth.  It's easier and more comfortable to numb myself with activities and things I need to take care of instead of honoring what I feel because these feelings are intense.  The real work lies in the allowing and the honoring.  So today I'm honoring.

I want to say no to the outside world, pull the covers over my head and lie in bed allowing myself to be what I need to be.... a big sobbing mess.  I'm not one to run from what I'm feeling although there are days I know I don't have time for it, and I push through knowing it will be there tomorrow.  Believe me, it doesn't go away.  I acknowledge this isn't the healthiest approach, but sometimes it's what I need to do, to get things done, knowing I can't handle the tasks I need to care for and the intensity of my emotions.  Today I awoke knowing I needed to take care of my emotional health and honor the space I'm in and sit with the intensity.  So here it goes...  I'm mad that I don't have the means to stay in bed today if I want to.  I'm mad that I can't be with my mom every second of the day.  I'm mad that life has been so challenging and there appears to be no end in sight to these challenges.  I'm mad that time is running out.  I'm mad that I'm losing the beginning of me.  I'm mad that time and future memories are being stolen from me.  I'm mad that people focus on such nonsense.  I'm mad that I am forced to deal with these people and their nonsense.  I'm mad that the world is so divided and people are killing each other.  Then there's the sadness.  I'm sad that I'm watching someone I love so deeply weaken each day.  I'm sad and mad that I can't do anything to make it stop.  I'm sad that my life will go on without a huge part of me.  I'm sad for my children and what they're feeling.  I'm sad that there's a good possibility my mom won't be here to see them graduate, go to college, get married, have the joy of seeing them start a family... the list is long.  I'm sad that I can't do more for her.  I'm sad that there will come a day that I won't be able to feel her hugs, stroke her soft hair, place my hand on her face or see her across the dinner table.  My stomach is sick.  My head is throbbing.  My face is a big salty mess from the continual stream of tears. 

My mom on her birthday 10/11/15

Then there's the duality of all the emotions above.  There's gratitude and joy.  It's a little hard to write about it when my sadness is being felt with such intensity today, but these feelings are still there.  It's these feelings that calm my stomach and make the throbbing in my head feel less intense.  They serve as a beautiful reminder of what I have and what I've been given.  I have the unconditional love of a woman who is such a beautiful example of love and motherhood.  And when the clock stops, I'll still have this, just in a different form.  Despite feeling like time is running out, I'm reminded that I have been given time and the ability to care of the woman who gave me life.  I'm reminded that I have the blessing of having her in my home, and although it's hard to see her in a weakened state, I'm grateful for the ability to care for her, to love her in this state and to serve her in this way.  I'm grateful that time has already been extended and I hope for more time, but as hard as it is to acknowledge this... I accept and honor that it may not happen.


For the last year I have been engaging with anticipatory grief or maybe it's been engaging with me.  The truth is, it really doesn't matter how much you engage with anticipatory grief, it doesn't prepare you for a loss of this magnitude.  The waves of grief I will feel when it's all said and done will be greater than what I am going through right now.  For today though, I feel a little better honoring this space and giving my grief the acknowledgement it needed.

My mom and I, 12/25/16

Death

At some point or another all of us think about this topic.  Most of us dread the conversation or the thoughts that arise from the thoughts of death.  Thinking about our own mortality is scary and the thoughts that arise from the impending death of a loved one is equally as scary.  As a small child I can remember laying in my bed at night fearing death.  The word scared me, the afterlife scared me and anything encompassing this morbid subject made me tremble in fear.  With my head nestled on my pillow, tucked in my bed by my sweet mother and uttering the prayer "Now I lay me down to sleep..." I remember thinking so many thoughts about death, wondering what would happen and where I would go if it did happen.  I also remember feeling the fear course through my body, praying that I made it until the morning.  I'm pretty sure most people go through this at some time or another.  Having a religious father, my fear of the afterlife was heightened and I feared the worst would happen to me.

These last few months, the topic of death has surfaced more and more.  In our household we are facing the inevitable death that will occur with my sweet mama.  Maybe it's a year from now, maybe a few months, it's a lot of maybes.  Of course, I don't have an exact time frame, but I feel in my belly it's coming.  I have a knowing that it's happening and it doesn't matter how much I try to ignore it, I know it's on the horizon.  It causes a ton of thoughts to rise, and with those thoughts come a flood of emotions.  I know I want to be as ready as I can be, and make sure I give this process the care and attention it deserves.

I sat with a dear soul yesterday and talked about death.  We had this super loving exchange about preparing a human for this transition, but most importantly the soul preparation.  Since that conversation, I have been flooded with emotions.  As I drifted off to sleep last night, I was aware that the last few months I have pushed my thoughts and feelings down in order to keep moving forward and have only scratched the surface of how I have felt.  I've had to get things done for my mom and be her caretaker, advocate, and healthcare proxy on top of being a mother, a wife, business woman and the many other hats I wear each day.  Self preservation was needed during this tumultuous time, but now that I have some help and have had some room to breathe a little; I am tending once again to these thoughts and emotions on a deeper level.  The flood gates have opened.  I am a highly sensitive individual who feels things deeply and with an intensity I have a hard time describing.  There are times that I dam up the gates in order to get things done which is exactly what I have done the last couple of months.

This morning sitting here with a tender heart and a willingness to surrender to my feelings; I dive in to the emotional processing necessary to care for myself.  It's part of my self-love and self-care on a deeper level than what I've engaged with as of late.  When I began writing this morning there were two songs that moved me to tears and they played back to back on my spotify station.  The first one, "So Thankful" by Nahko & Medicine for the people allowed for a wave of thoughtfulness to occur and how grateful I am for this life, the magic that occurs daily, and for the tremendous woman who gave me life.  She has tenderly cared for me, loved me unconditionally and supported me through this journey.  As I listened to the music and the words, my eyes began to well with tears and my heart surrendered.  These words pulled at my heart and provided a loving space to honor her.

"The mother that raised me

is truly a queen.

Taught me how to love God

and follow my dreams.

Said, "oo so grateful, oo so grateful""

The heartfelt message of Nahko's words pull at my heart strings most days, but today it pulled harder and deeper.  This morning, in the quiet of the house, as I listened, the music soothed me and gave rise to love, gratitude and light.  As I listened to his musical story and the hardships endured, hardships far greater than what I can imagine, I found beauty in the gratitude of this lovely song.  We can go through the trenches of hell and still have a sense of gratitude, if we choose to.  The last year has been so challenging... emotionally, physically and mentally, but I am grateful.  I'm grateful for the enrichment these challenges bring, the blessings of life, but most importantly for the love of a woman I call mama and the impact she has had on my life as a woman and mother. 

In the stillness of the room as I surrendered, the song "Directions" was and is my prayer.  Again, Nahko & Medicine for the People moved me to tears.  This lovely song of prayer sang directly to my soul.  In that tender moment as my heart opened, the song sang the words of my soul.  "Grandfather, Grandmother... I am calling on you.  I need your guidance now."  

Dear Spirit of the Divine, Help me in the days ahead to act with grace and love, to be honoring and accepting, help me to surrender to my path as well as hers, and provide the guidance and the people to assist me as everything unfolds.  Thank you for your blessings, your loving gifts, your challenges that cause me to awaken deeper and your divine support and love. 

"With these wings I CAN fly"

©2017 Toni Becker, Artfully Healing, Whimsical Jewels

Allow. Honor. Healing

These last few days I've had a strong pull to write my feelings out, but the raging battle of avoidance and resistance were winning the war.  I have a few different coping methods I use to allow for a space of healing to occur and aide in the restoration of balance.  Deep in my heart, I know there are certain coping methods that are more effective, and yet, I turn to the "easier" methods to avoid the feelings that may come up because I need to keep moving.  It's in the moment of stillness, that I feel this stirring that says, "take care of this" and the flood gates are open and the emotions come to the surface.  As time passes, I am developing an understanding of the agreements I have made with myself that have created my limiting beliefs that give rise to the battle of avoidance and resistance instead of diving in to aide in my release.  With time, I have noticed my battle with avoidance and resistance has lessened and I have become more patient with myself and my healing process.

A small glimpse of a work in progress.
©2018 Toni Becker, Artfully Healing
Whimsical Jewels

For me, writing, painting and healing arts are powerful healers.  As much as I dance with resistance, I am thankful that I place one foot in front of the other and say hello to these healers and engage with them despite the fear I feel at times.  While engage with these powerful tools of healing, it takes a level of courage and bravery to do so, because the emotions that are evoked during the process can be quite overwhelming.  But so worth it!  The level of emotion that comes to the surface while engaging with these great healers astounds me, and allows me to honor my process and listen.  Beyond witnessing my own story of healing, I have been able to witness the healing power these great methods offer to others I have had the honor of coaching.  Silencing the noise in my head and tricking my ego to be quiet in order to create an honoring space to heal, transform, and surrender is what allows me to place one foot in front of the other to cope with my external world.  Honoring myself and the stage I am in, allows for a deeper understanding of myself, and provides a safe space for me to cope and heal.

My brave steps this week.  I'm working on a
few different paintings right now.  Current
work in progress.
© 2018 Toni Becker, Artfully Healing
Whimsical Jewels

A few of my limiting beliefs that give rise to my resistance are....  "I'm not good enough."  "I'm not smart enough."  "My writing will sound stupid."  "No one will read this or care, so what's the point?"  "What happens if my painting sucks?"  "What happens if I don't paint something good?"  All of these thoughts and beliefs give rise to fear and open a space that could potentially hold me back from not moving forward.  It's the moment of truth.  I can choose to listen and not move forward, or I can allow the wave of healing to occur.  The truth is, my writing is my own.  It's my unique voice, and over the years I've worked hard to develop her, listen to her, and surrender to what she wants to say.  Is it going to win a prize?   NO and that's okay.  Is it going to be grammatically correct?  Probably not and that's okay.  Does my writing really say I'm not smart?  Well, I guess it could to some people... and that's okay.  The truth is, I know I am smart and my writing is a healing space for myself that allows me to reflect and cope with life.  And truly, who cares if no one reads it... Of course, I hope someone does.  Not because I need them to, but because I hold the intention of healing for others as much as I do for myself.  I hope that my words resonate with the reader, and in that space of connection allows for love to heal; inspiring you to do your own form of healing beyond the space of fear.  The truth about my art and paintings is this... they too, are my unique voice and my art.  Art is subjective and beauty is in the eye of the beholder.  I create art because I need to, and because I want to, even when resistance is high and I've had to wrestle myself to get in the studio and stand in front of my canvas.  Yes, there are times painting can be a painful process for me, but the magic that happens because I show up in front of the canvas, I have trouble placing into words.  The in between stages of each canvas, undoubtedly always brings about more fear because it's usually a jumbled mess, and my ego likes to step in and say "I told you so."  Really, what did you tell me?  That I wasn't good enough? It's in that space that spirit whispers..."yes you are, keep going, you got this."  It's in that moment that my heart says, "I believe in you and I love you."  And let me tell you, because I chose to listen to my heart and spirit, there have been several canvases I have stood in front of, in utter disbelief that they were mine.  And in that beautiful, magical moment, I've felt an indescribable joy.  My limiting beliefs are fairly universal and shared by many people.  It's what we decide to do with those constricting beliefs that matters.  Today I chose to shut them off, told my fear to kiss my ass, and sat down to write.  Yesterday I did the same and lovingly picked up my brushes to paint.  It felt so damn good to open to the space of healing and allow myself to be in the present moment, silencing the noise of fear.


Today, I invite you to move forward.  Engage in that healing space, open up to the possibilities waiting for you.  Tell fear to kiss your ass.  Be brave and move forward.  Allow  your spirit and heart to emerge, and do what your being called to do.  Do you feel the urge to write?  To paint?  To breathe?  To call and connect with someone?  To walk outside?  To take the first steps to be more healthy?  Whatever it is...  take the first step.  The second step gets easier and the reward of moving forward, and connecting with your inner voice is greater than what I can describe to you.  I have felt it myself many times and witnessed it with those I have had the honor of coaching.  I believe in you and I'm holding a loving space of healing for you.

"The Light Within"
©2017 Toni Becker, Artfully Healing
Whimsical Jewels

Late night writings

"Changing" Acrylic painting,
© 2018 Toni Becker, Whimsical Jewels

Inspiration.  Do you ever notice when yours comes?  Do you pay attention to this quiet voice that gives us big ideas or do you ignore it because the timing is inconvenient?  For me the answers are yes, yes, and yes.  I have found that the voice of inspiration comes when I least expect it... in the shower, walking in the woods, in the middle of the night, when I'm driving down the road, observing other artist's work, looking at the wonders of nature, observing bright, bold colors, listening to music, and sometimes in the middle of a conversation.  Lately my ideas and inspiration have come during the night.  I'll awake from a sound sleep and have all of these ideas in my head.  I then feel this sense of urgency to hurry and write them down.  I have been known to ignore them, because it's the middle of the night and well... I'm sleeping and I'm tired.  I've learned though, that most of the time when you ignore that little voice, the inspiration goes away and doesn't return until the next big idea.  Try as I might, I can never conjure up the inspiration or feelings that were invoked at the time inspiration spoke to me.

Lately my inspiration has been coupled with my emotional content and what I'm processing internally.  Time weighs heavy on my heart and on my mind.  When your staring Father Time in the face wondering when the clock will stop ticking, it definitely raises all kinds of uncertainty and a level of emotions I can't place into words.  That's my current story right now.  It's not an easy story to tell, because right now there is a vulnerability that comes with an authentic raw emotion that cuts to my core, leaving my heart aching and a sickness in my belly.  I have wrestled with myself internally and went back and forth about sharing my feelings.  I feel very vulnerable and emotionally raw.  That's my truth and my story.  The wrestling is over.  I've decided to share it because it's healing for me.  A couple weeks ago, in the middle of the night, inspiration called and I had no choice but to listen.  This time it was about my dear momma.

I've been called to write about her a few times over the years.  She's a very influential part of who I am as a woman and as a mother.  In December, I was awakened from a very powerful dream, with the same sense of urgency to record my thoughts and feelings.  I still carry my dream message with me, because I lovingly talked with my mother the day after the dream.  December was a really stressful month.  At the beginning of the month, my dear mother was hospitalized for several days, on 12/13 we experienced the anniversary of 9 years without my brother Jon, and on 12/15 my husband said goodbye to his brother.  It was a really tough month in our family.  My dream came the night before my brother's anniversary and it was so powerful.  In my dream, my soul openly spoke to my mother with a pure love I've never experienced before.  I have grieved the loss of my brother, HARD, for the first few years after he died and thankfully now when the anniversary of his death arrives, it's an honored space more than a sad, grief space.  I take the time to honor his life and what he meant to me while he was here.  For my mother, it's a lot different.  I don't pretend to know what she goes through as a mother losing her son, and when I think about it, the feelings almost break me.  In the dream, I shared that pain with her, and in that moment I could feel the tremendous pain of her heavy loss and it was unimaginable.  During that moment of love, we sat and openly talked with one another sharing our love for one another.  When I awoke from the dream I was crying.  I felt the need to write it down, and realized I had a few things I needed to say to my dear mom.  Instead of popping out of bed to quickly write it down, I trusted myself to remember what I needed to say to her.  For some reason, I didn't fear losing it, quite possibly because it was so powerful and the emotions I felt were quite deep.

Over the years, I have spoken with individuals who have lost a sibling and I've read books on grief and this particular loss.  In my own research and in the pages I read, a lot of siblings shared they felt neglected by their parents after their sibling died.  When holidays would come, they expressed the same type of experiences...  Instead of celebrating life and a joyous time of togetherness during the holiday/birthday/etc, the parents focused on the death of their child and that they weren't there to celebrate with them.  For a lot of children who have lost a sibling, there can be a sense of survivor's guilt with irrational thoughts and feelings that come as a result of this tremendous loss.  Thankfully, I have NEVER had to experience those feelings.  I absolutely went through survivor's guilt, but it was part of my grieving process, not because my mother, or father for that matter, caused the feelings.  In my dream, I felt my mother's broken heart and her feelings of loss.  Her heart was whole and full of love prior to Jon's death, and after this tremendous loss she felt incomplete, broken, and her heart was missing the other half.

In my dream, the purity and power of her love was clearly communicated to me.  Her soul spoke so lovingly to mine, sharing that Jon and I were the true loves of her life, and with him gone, her heart felt incomplete.  As I share this, I can feel her pain and her love simultaneously.  It immediately brings me to tears and makes my heart ache.  My soul so beautifully expressed my understanding, and how loved I felt by her despite her burden of grief.  In my dream I thanked her for her love and for always making me feel wanted, despite missing the other part of her heart.  This dream was such a gift to my heart, healing in its own way.  The next day, (my brother's anniversary) I called and thanked her for her gift of unconditional love, for allowing me to be the love of her life, and for always loving me just as I am, nothing more or less.  We cried together and expressed our love for one another.  That moment, in dream and in our phone conversation, will be something I will hold in my heart forever.

A couple weeks ago, after being asleep for a little while, I was suddenly wide awake.  During the day, I had some pretty terrible news about my mother's health and I was processing everything before drifting off to sleep.  When I awoke, I was really groggy and quite tired.  Emotionally I was spent.  I really wanted to roll over and go back to sleep, pushing my ideas and thoughts to the side, forgetting that I had been woken by the voice of inspiration.  I can't lie, I contemplated it for a few minutes, and then told her to go away that I was tired, and I really didn't want to deal with the emotional content of her inspiration.  Somewhere deep inside me there was this voice... "If you don't go write it down and write it out, you will regret it."  Then like a flood, these ideas, thoughts, feelings, and MEMORIES had come to me in that moment and quite frankly, I didn't want to forget them.  Begrudgingly I got up.  I went to my studio, and started writing in my journal.  For 2 hours, I wrote.  I remembered things, I hadn't remembered and saw things from a different set of lenses.  A new pair of glasses.  My heart hurt and my body shook from my sobs, but there I sat writing until I couldn't write anymore.  When I finished writing and my tears stopped flowing, I felt so much better.  I saw things differently.  I also had this sense of "Knowing" that wasn't there before.

I have a Rumi journal that has his beautiful quotes on each page.  In the silent hours of the night, I scribbled on the pages of my journal about love, beauty, and childhood.  I wrote about motherhood and the blessings of love that I have received.  Perfectly aligned with my late night writings were these 4 Rumi quotes: "Love is a cloud that scatters pearls."  "God created your wings not to be dormant.  As long as you are alive you must try more and more to use your wings to show you're alive."  "Thankfulness brings you to the place where the Beloved lives."  "You think because you understand "one" you must also understand "two," because one and one make two.  But you must also understand "and."   Each quote, magically aligned for a deeper knowing and sense of gratitude that I had listened to the voice inside me, calling to scribble on my pages.

"Blue", Mixed Media Nature Mandala
© 2017 Toni Becker, Whimsical Jewels

My momma...  What best describes this woman I call Mother?  Is it grace or beauty?  Is it pure love and loyalty?  Is it strength and fire?  Is it tenderness?  Is it thoughtful and kind?  Is it protective and fierce?  I'd say all of these are perfect descriptions of the woman I have the honor to call mom.  A few months ago, if you had asked me what my greatest loss in life had been, I would have told you, hands down, my brother.  Now staring at the possibility of losing my mother, without really knowing when, and on a much more rapid time table, I can easily say... her.  She will be my greatest loss.  I haven't even felt her loss yet and I can say without a doubt this will be my greatest loss.  She is my beginning.  The roots in my tree.  And what do you do when your tree has been uprooted?

42 years ago, I was a little "seedling" in the tree of life called my mother, or as I like to call her... mommy or momma.  She has lovingly guided me throughout my life and really placed a solid foundation for me as a woman.  Any words I use, will be inadequate for describing my gratitude and love for this dear woman.  She is pure love and embodies it in her core.  My descriptive words of love barely scratch the surface of who she is and my love for her.  From the time, she knew she was pregnant with me, she loved me.  She did what she could to protect me, and cared for me with a love so deep I can feel it in my core.  Throughout childhood into adulthood, she has been a fierce lioness protecting me, her cub.  She has been a strong and fierce, a force to be reckoned with.  God help you, if you did anything to hurt Jon or I.  These days, it is I that protects her.  And quite honestly, my actions pale in comparison to hers.  Her love has always been flawless and gentle, unconditional and forgiving.  She was a good teacher of love, friendship, and how to be a good mother.  Her teachings showed me taught me to stand on my own feet as a woman.  She made sure to give me the tools I would need to be successful in this life.  I could go on and on... but you get my point.

So now here I am, looking at my time with this incredible woman.  Life is short, and her time is being
shortened by cancer.  It makes me feel all the feels.  Some would ask for healing and would beg Father time for more time, but that's not where I am in my journey.  I accept that this is where I am and where she is.  I surrender to this process, knowing I can't control it.  The only thing I can do is love her fiercely and support her decisions as she rides the last wave.  I have appreciated every second I have had with her.  She has loved me with a depth I am inadequate in describing and even father time can't take that from me because love is eternally infinite.

"Acceptance" Acrylic painting
© 2016 Toni Becker, Whimsical Jewels

5

If you’ve spent a decent amount of time with me, and we’ve had in depth conversations, then you know that numerology is pretty important to me.  Within those conversations, I have most likely told you that I try my best to pay attention to the signs of the universe, and I feel quite strongly numbers are one of those signs. 

I’m reflective most days, but the last few days, I have been quite reflective.  My life has had some twists and turns, ups and downs, days that were filled with light and days upon days of darkness.  Sometimes so dark, I wondered if I would ever see the light.  Some of these days were a result of situational depression, and some of those days were a result of overthinking various things going on in my life and the world around me, the demon of self-doubt, and the fear of failure and success.  Isn’t it interesting that I fear both failure and success?  That’s a whole other conversation for another day. 

Five.  Such a small number.  A small number with a colossal meaning and symbolism.  A few days ago, the gadgets in my brain really started turning.  This week marks a few important anniversaries.  Anniversaries that demand a moment and a pause in time and reflection.  So, why the number 5?  What does 5 mean?  And how does it relate to my period of reflection and the anniversaries I’m reflecting on?

Five years ago, I was having the worst summer possible.  My husband professed how unhappy he was in our life together.  I literally waited on the sideline to find out if everything I had helped to build was going to crumble and be left in ruins.   I waited and prayed.  I created art to soothe my bleeding heart.  I cried myself to sleep, begging the Universe to help me through this impossible pain, again.   The thought of my marriage dissolving after putting so much work and effort into it, seemed unbearable. The timing incredibly painful.  Then it happened.  It was over.  I was left standing like I had been hit by a bus and utterly devastated.  I couldn’t believe that my life, the life I had helped create and build, was shattered. 

In my research today, I realized how important the number five is to this particular period of my life.  So, what does five mean?  The meanings that resonated with me are the following: “Personal freedom, individualism, non-attachment, CHANGE, LIFE LESSONS THROUGH EXPERIENCE, release and surrender, health and healing, expansion, opportunity, story-telling, making positive life choices and decisions, conflict, able to learn and teach from direct experience.” It goes on to say that “the number 5 relates to making positive life choices and decisions and learning life lessons through experience.” (Joanne Walmsley-Sacred Scribes, link is listed below)  This pretty much sums up the last five years of my life.

On August 9^th, five years ago, my husband said he wanted a separation.  Today, August 10^th, marks 5 years that he signed his lease on his apartment and started out on his journey alone.  At the time, I was devastated.  How could my life have led me here?  How in the world did this happen?  He was asking for personal freedom and I was clinging to attachment.  He wanted change and I wanted to repair this vessel that was so broken.  What I came to realize over the last five years, was I created the separation too.  My soul needed it, but I wasn’t brave enough to ask for it outside of my being.  He was.  I was rooted in my own core beliefs of what marriage was, I was too blind to see it at the time.  I was blinded by my pain, fear, attachment, control, fear of change and expansion.  So blinded, that I couldn’t see that this event in my life would lead me to learn, gain experience, make positive life choices and decisions, and eventually here, telling my story.

For quite some time the pain was unbearable.  The same thoughts churned over and over in my mind, which at times made me feel crazy.  I felt so lost and insecure.  Unsafe.  Uprooted and shattered.  I couldn’t imagine that the 18 years that I had invested in, and something I had worked so hard at, came to a screeching halt.  I was mad at myself for continuing to love him.  I was sad and alone.  There were times when the pity party in my head went on for so long, I thought I would break.  It was so tiresome, even Pity wanted to leave the party, but due to my attachment to her, I clung to her for dear life.  I couldn’t lose her too.  Victim-hood can suck the life out of anyone, and leave you naked and afraid.  I needed to feel empowered and strong, two feelings that were so far out of my reach, and so far from my view. 

I ran.  I biked.  I wrote.  I cried. I cried. And I cried some more.  I sat alone.  I took classes to heal myself.  I did yoga.  I listened to music.  After a while, I drank.  Not every day, but after a couple of years of the pain, I definitely drank to numb the intensity of my feelings and to forget… I needed to forget, for a few moments, that my life had been turned upside down.  In my moments that I was heart centered and witnessed soulful insight, there was this incredible clarity, and in those moments I realized the healing path I was on, and why my soul called for the separation just as much as he did.  I couldn’t blame him anymore, because I had asked for this too.  My soul needed to grow and expand, and this painful experience needed to happen, in order for the growth to occur within myself.  Then I started painting.  All of the intense emotions and thoughts that swirled in my brain, came pouring out of me onto the canvas.  Standing in front of the canvas, moving my brush, scared the shit out of me, but it was where I felt free.  Free of the noise.  Free of the emotional turmoil I wrestled with each day, because so much had changed in my life.  Through my pain and acts of self-love, I found painting.  Or maybe she found me?    It was through the act of painting, I started to see the girl in front of the mirror and I didn’t mind looking at her.  It was through painting, that I found healing and grace, incredible strength and bravery.  And EMPOWERMENT.

In the last five years, I have been on a journey of transformation.  A path that stripped me naked and shattered my world.  It was through healing my grief that I realized that I needed the challenging lessons to gain experience.  I needed the pain and hurt to understand the power of healing.

These last two days, while reflecting on the anniversary of the dissolve of my marriage and the start of my husband’s new journey without me, I feel incredibly blessed.  I learned a tremendous amount about myself, my community, healing, and what it means to let go and surrender.  Some of these lessons, I continue to learn and deepen my understanding of, but then again, aren’t we all?  These last five years, I have had an abundant growth within myself and in my external world.  I have fell down and got back up.  I’ve carried on, surrendered to the process, released, and healed.  The last five years have been truly represented by the numerology of five and its meaning.    

Tomorrow marks another anniversary.  August 11^th marks 23 years that we had our first kiss on the front steps of the Unadilla library.  It was here that our journey began.  Tomorrow also marks 17 years that we exchanged our own vows in front of our beloved family and friends.  I’ve reflected a lot this last week of anniversaries, on where my life was, where it is now, and where my life is headed.  This week marks five years that my life took a different turn and my lessons began, but it also marks a time when an immense love presented itself.  The last five years have been difficult, challenging, and a tremendous blessing. I’ve had many uncomfortable gifts and I know I’ll be presented with many more in my life.  Uncomfortable gifts allow us the space to expand and the room to grow.  I’ve grown and so has Shayne.  We are completely different people than we were five years ago when we ended our marriage, and started down a path by ourselves.  Now five years later, here we are.  Reunited and stronger than ever.  More in love than we ever were before.  We share a true partnership that didn’t exist before the separation.  We needed the separation in order to be in this loving space, and it is here, that I triumphantly celebrate the uncomfortable lessons I learned over the last five years.  It is here, I celebrate the love we have for one another and the life we are creating once again.  So tomorrow’s anniversary takes on a very different meaning for me.  A life enriched with love, partnership, and a life shared with my best friend.  I am truly blessed.   

Title:  "Transformation"

Medium:  Acrylic Paint

2016

In numerology, the number five carries several meanings, and I’ve chosen the meanings that resonated with me, and this particular time period of my life and reflection.  If you want to read more about the number five, please check out this link for the information:  http://numerology-thenumbersandtheirmeanings.blogspot.com/2011/03/number-5-ruler-mars-said-to-be.html?m=1

Celebration of Life

Today I celebrate you.  I think of the time we had together, our conversations, the memories, and all the beautiful characteristics that made you,.... You.  I wish I could call you, hear your voice, and then sing or belt out the worst tune of happy birthday to you, but today singing into the energy of this world will have to do.  

Wow...  38 years.  What would you have been like now?  Would you be different?  Would be you the same?  Would you be a better version of who you were?  I like to think so.  I imagine you would be more settled in life, grounded in the man you were becoming.  I imagine you would still love with a strength and depth few will ever be able to reach.  I imagine you would hold those close to you, that have captured your heart.  I imagine you with the largest grin on your face, trying to make those around you smile too.  I imagine you still having a fierce loyalty to friends.  I imagine a lot of things about you, who you were then and who you were becoming.  When I think of all of this, it makes me miss you.  Miss that I won't have the opportunity to see what you would become or how your life would evolve and transform on this physical plane.  But I do see you, it's just a different view than in a physical form.  You are more radiant than what you were, a beauty that isn't defined by the shape of a body.  And that makes my heart beam and shine with an amazing love for you.







You, my brother, are missed and loved more than words can express in this short blurb.  When I think of the incredible life you had, in the short 31 years you were with us, I stand amazed.  The purity of your soul was beyond most.  The fire and zest you carried for the adventure of each day was inspiring.  The loyalty you had for those you loved was breathtaking.  Your valor made me beam with pride.  The way you looked out, for those you loved, made my heart fill with joy.  There's only one you and I'm glad I can say you were my brother, my friend, and my family.

happy birthday, Jon.  I love you.

Nature is my church

Photo taken at Reynolda Gardens Spring 2015

Photo taken by my beautiful sister, Aoife Rose

Oregon, Fall 2014

Spring and fall are my favorite seasons.  Death and rebirth.  Both are so striking in beauty, that when these seasons are in full swing, I can't get enough of either.  When I'm in nature my soul is at peace.  It's here that I listen and quiet my mind.  I feel closest to the spirit of this great universe when I'm in nature, so yes it is my church.  Some go to church to worship the God they believe in...  I step outside into the bounty of the natural world and fill my spiritual cup, clear away the cobwebs in my mind, and breathe.  Restoring balance and finding the calm.

This morning as I ran in one of my favorite parks, I did just that.  My heart was filled with gratitude at the people, situations, challenges, and uncomfortable gifts I have experienced this past year.  Each one, great and small, taking me somewhere new.  I couldn't help but think of the many blessings that I have been given and how much love was in my heart, and how important it is to give thanks for everything.

I started giving thanks this morning in my church.  As I ran past the city worker clearing the fallen debris I made sure to say thank you....  I gave thanks to him for stopping the leaf blower as I ran past and then in the midst of running, yelled...  "Thanks for your hard work."  I wondered how many people say thank you to them for the work they do to keep our parks clean and looking nice.  I certainly don't say thank you enough.  So, I think it's time to share what I'm thankful for.

I'm thankful for...

*My beautiful children.  God, I love these two magnificent human beings.  Watching them grow into the people they are becoming is such a joy.  They are unique in their own ways and I love them for the wonderful character they bring to my life and our family.  It's an honor to be their mother and guide them in this world.  Definitely a responsibility I do not take lightly.

*My parents.  I feel blessed to still have them here on this earthly plane.  They have given me so much in my life and I will forever be grateful for the love, teachings, and guidance they have given me.

*Jon.  God, I'm so thankful for him.  Thankful that I was able to love this human being, in this life, for 31 years.  While living, he was my greatest teacher and now in death he continues to teach me from beyond.  I loved my brother beyond what I could ever describe here.  If you've followed my blog, this one or my other blog, http://whimsicaljewels.blogspot.com/, you already know how I feel about him and the loss I feel living without him on this earthly plane.

*My siblings, Aoife and Chuck.  As the years go by, I have become closer to both of them.  I'm so very grateful for the relationships we have developed.  It is here that I find my roots and strength when I need it the most.

*My ex-husband.  Weird right?  No, not really...  He gave me the greatest gift I could ever have, my two children.  It was during our time of deep love we created something so beautiful. He's a wonderful father and although our journey together ended, I'm thankful we are able to co-parent our children in a healthy, loving environment.  This is something I am extremely grateful for and could never give enough thanks for.  I've heard horror stories from friends and strangers of the nightmares they have to go through with their exes.  Every time I hear the stories, I say a prayer of thanks for the relationship we continue to have despite our marriage not working out.

*My ex-husband's family.  I love them so much and through this beautiful family I still have an extended family that I love dearly.  I love mom and dad Becker as much as my own parents and no words could state how grateful I am for their tremendous presence in my life.

*My sweet sister-in-law, Samantha.  She is more beautiful than she realizes and I give thanks for another lovely sister.  I wish we were able to spend more time together, however, the time I do get with her is a sweet slice of heaven.  I'm filled with gratitude and love that she is a part of my life.

*My aunts, uncles, and cousins.  I have learned a lot from them and feel blessed to have such wonderful memories of each of them.

*My chosen family....  All my Friends!  God, I love each and everyone of them for how different they are, the friendship they give and the gift of knowing them.  

*My soul sister, Karin.  This small blurb could never express the gratitude I have for her.  She is an amazing goddess and I love her so much.  I've never met anyone quite like her and honestly I don't know where I'd be without her.  She's carried me when I couldn't carry myself.  She's reminded me of my light, when all I saw was darkness.  The love and friendship she has given me over the years I will be eternally grateful for....  a true, authentic connection I cherish.  

*My childhood friends that I continue to have a connection with.  We can go for years without talking and pick up right where we left off.  I love these connections!

*The ability to run, bike, walk in a multitude of choices in Winston-Salem.  Even though I long to live somewhere else, I really am thankful to be here at this moment in time.  Winston is a beautiful city and I have so many beautiful parks to choose from to enter my church for balance and restoration.

*The ability to create art.  I love creating works inspired by nature.  It fills my soul with so much joy and one of my deepest passions.

*The ability to do work that I LOVE and feel passionate about.  Everyday I go to work, I'm so grateful that I don't have a conventional job and I get paid to help others live an independent life that they choose.  

*The ability to be involved in my kids lives at school, at after school activities and picking them up each day.  It seems so simple, but I think of the many moms out there that want to do this, but due to circumstances are unable to.  I am tremendously grateful for this daily gift.  I love hearing about their day, what they are learning, and seeing them participate in sports and other activities.  It gives my heart an abundance of joy.

*My 6 senses...  sight, smell, hearing, taste, touch and my intuition.  I'm so incredibly grateful for each of these.

*MuSic!  The birds melodic song and all the phenomenal musicians out there.

*Me!  I'm so thankful for the woman I am and the woman I am becoming.  As I look in the mirror each day, I'm filled with love and gratitude for the beautiful life I have.  My body certainly doesn't look like barbie and I don't want it to.  Each curve reminding me of my femininity and how beautiful I am.  Each stretch mark reminding me of the beautiful children that I was able to carry and bring into this world.  Each wrinkle on my face reminding me how much joy I have had and the laughter I have engaged in.  Each grey hair reminding me of all that I have learned and the wisdom that is within me.  

Life is a gift.

I am thankful.

Dancing with Grief

I think a lot.  Is it possible to think too much?  I guess at times too much thinking could be detrimental.  These last several weeks have been a time of deep reflection for me.  I have been reflecting on my actions, behaviors, thoughts, patterns and where I am headed....  A LOT.  When I say a lot I mean A LOT.  So this morning I had a general idea for my writing topic, however, there was another plan in place bigger than myself.

Originally, I thought I would share a little bit about myself, elaborate on my reflection post from the other day, expose myself a little more, and some of the things I have been working on in the last few years.  So, with that in mind, I started my day "searching for myself".  Have you ever done this?  I don't mean thinking to yourself...  "who am I" although some of us could stand to ponder on that a little bit.  What I mean is, I typed my name into the google search engine to see what would come up.  I do this from time to time just to see what's out there.

You know, I'm pretty famous.  I'm not really but it was a nice thought for a brief moment.  Anyway, there is a musician named Toni Becker who is.  That's not me.  I was a musician at much younger age...  playing the lovely tenor saxophone.  I survived my teenage years because of music, so I'm forever grateful for the healing power music has.  Anyway, back to my search.  When I searched my name, my brother's on line legacy account came up, listing his online condolences.   And then it hit me...  that was my topic.  Grief.  My experience with grief has led me down a road of awakening, a life of conscious living, and it has cracked me open in a time of serious personal revelation.

Grief.  She and I have danced together many times over the years.  Throughout the years, we have developed an understanding for one another and our dance has become less awkward.  Don't misinterpret that, less awkward does not mean less difficult.  I wish I didn't know her as well as I do, but I do.

I feel as a human being, grief is the hardest part of the journey.  Letting go and saying goodbye to someone we love so dearly is hard.  It's not something you "just get over".  You can't move through it quickly because if you do, she'll teach you something else.  And through the most difficult and darkest of circumstances, she still reveals a light that teaches compassion, love, patience and understanding.  Grief is not only hard for the person dancing with her.  Those that we love and share a connection with us, also go through their own experience watching our awkward dance.  Their dance can feel like helplessness, hopelessness, and frustration with us, and with themselves for not being able to "fix it" or take away our pain.

I've had a long history with grief and we've danced together for quite some time now.  It wasn't until the last few years of my life that I started to fully understand her, and our bodies began to move in sync with each other. I have learned I can not lead this dance but must follow.  She leads the dance and I then move myself in the direction that is needed to heal.  For me, learning this was necessary to recover from the loss I feel so deeply in my heart and soul.

Grief and I have had our first awkward dance at the tender age of four, when I lost my dear grandma Verna.  God, I loved her.  She was so beautiful and I loved her sweet lap.  Even as I sit here thinking of her, with tears in my eyes, I can feel her lap as I nestle into her neck,  I remember her with deep love and adoration.  I didn't even know what grief was then, how could I at the age of four?  I came to understand what loss was and I knew it was very painful.

Then a year later, my parents divorced.  When I look back on my childhood, my experiences, my feelings and how they translate to my current patterns, I realize how deep this pain was.  I have come to realize that due to this heavy loss in my life, I developed many belief systems that I have had to ponder on and release.  I'm still working on this.  

I entered the dance floor again at the age of 15.  My step-sister, Karen, developed cancer at a very young age (21) and died shortly after.  God, I loved her too.  We had some common interests and every moment I spent with her, I always came home wanting more time.  So, when she left this earthly plane, my heart broke.  I can remember sitting in my room, crying, wondering how this had happened.  No one really talked about grief in our household or what to do to make the dance less awkward.  I didn't know about the stages of grief or what to do to cope, but my soul did.  Somewhere in my being, I found the light in the midst of the darkness and engaged in healthy coping mechanisms to get through the dance.  My parents purchased a fish tank for me, which was one of the most relaxing activities I engaged in during this time of heavy loss.  I ran.  I cried.  I listened to music.  I played music.  Thank God for my tenor saxophone.

I entered the dance floor again, a few short years later, when my dear Uncle Bob died.  He was my dad's closest sibling and his best friend.  I spent quite a bit of  time in his house and loved him dearly. When I look back at how I handled this loss, I remember just pushing through it, because unfortunately that's what I learned to do, instead of dancing slowly.  I think this loss was buried someplace within me, definitely not a very good way to cope with loss.

A couple years later, I entered the dance floor again.  This time it wasn't a family member but instead a close friend.  We were young.  He was young.  Too young.  He was days from turning 21.  This death hit hard.  I couldn't even dance.  I remember laying in bed for a week not wanting to do anything but listen to music and cry.  My heart was broken and I didn't know what to do.  Roger, was such a beautiful human being.  He had a smile that held you captive, a free spirit that loved everyone, and a lot of fun to be around.  At this time, I was in nursing school and had started learning about the stages of grief, healthy coping mechanisms, and what it means to say goodbye.  All those tools couldn't prepare me for the loss I felt or soothe my bleeding heart.

Grief called me to the dance floor again in 2002.  This wasn't a physical death, but instead a death of a relationship.  My husband at the time decided that he wanted to walk the journey of life alone, and to say I was devastated, would be an inadequate way to describe what I felt.  It was in that moment I came to understand grief doesn't call us to dance only at a time of physical death, but can call us to dance with any loss.  This experience really deepened my understanding of grief and started to help me see what all of us go through at a time of loss.  It's uncomfortable, awkward, soul wrenching, difficult and dark.  I learned that a lot of people in the world are numb and have a hard time with other people's pain.  I learned that any loss will cause grief.  I learned grief is a process that must be handled with care and allowed to happen in its own time, not forced, but instead handled with gentle understanding.  I did just that and vowed that what I learned I would hold on to and try to help others, so they didn't feel so alone.  Just as I was digging deep into my grief and processing my loss, my husband and I, came back together.

On 12/13/08, my life changed forever.  A night I will never forget.  A phone call at 1:07 am  on 12/14/08, bringing the news that caused a profound change within my soul.  "Jon is dead'" rings in my ears...  burning them actually.  If I could chose to NEVER hear those words, God I would.  The connection I had with my brother is something that I can never explain.  To know him was to love him and hate him.  He was beautiful, kind, charismatic, so intelligent, compassionate, strong, brave, lived with honor...  the list goes on and on.  He drove me crazy and I drove him crazy.  Under it all was a deep love.  A love that even death can't diminish.  If you want to read about my process and what I went through during that time, click on these links:   http://whimsicaljewels.blogspot.com/2008/12/angels-called-home.html  AND http://whimsicaljewels.blogspot.com/2008/12/o-troubled-soul.html

I think of my brother daily.  I loved him a great deal and when he died I couldn't imagine my life without him.  Even as I type those words, my eyes are welling up.  But time has passed and although I miss him, the pain that took my breath away so many years ago, no longer has the power to do that.  That doesn't mean I miss him any less, it just means I have moved through my grief.  So, after seeing Jon's on line legacy account I sat and read it.  Tears streaming down my face, remembering what a beautiful light the world lost, yet the heavens gained a bright shining star.  I'm so thankful for this little online treasure and reading how much my brother's life impacted so many.  (Thank you Tearé, I don't think I ever properly thanked you.  From the bottom of my heart, thank you for purchasing this.) Like I said...  to know him was to love him.  You'd get angry with him, utter hateful words as a result, but always go back to loving him because he was amazing.  For me, I couldn't imagine not having him by my side.  He was a soldier in the world and fought for those he loved with valor.  Did I tell you he was amazing?  :)

Jon taught me my greatest lessons.  When I said goodbye to him, I felt so lost.  I felt like I was missing parts of me that would never return.  Grief and I resisted our dance several times because it was too hard.  I couldn't dance.  I couldn't move.  My pain immobilized me.  Thankfully I was able to move forward and I invited her to dance.  I needed too.  I knew that I couldn't stand against the wall any longer and had to find someway to dance even if I didn't feel like it.  Through the most profound pain I have ever experienced, I found the light again.  I learned what it was like to lose someone you cared about so deeply and feel like there was no purpose in life.  I remember feeling that each day was a gift and so many people were squandering it away with meaningless shit.  They focused their attention on the most trivial things, all the while I wanted to scream...  "WAKE THE FUCK UP!"  I've lost the most important person in my life and here you are moving through life aimlessly bothering me with nonsense.  Jon was the greatest teacher and he continues to teach me.  This loss opened my sleeping eyes and helped me realize that love remains the same even after death, be thankful for each day, see people without judgement, love openly, be true to yourself, give your love freely despite how uncomfortable it feels, be kind, live with meaning, engage in deep discussions, choose your friends wisely, really this list goes on and on too.

My dance with grief, after losing Jon, was so awkward.  I couldn't stand, let alone follow her lead.  I learned with time that the sun continues to shine and the pain lessens.  I'll never stop missing him on this physical plane, but I realize he's still here.  I just have to be "awake" to see and feel him.  Awake and aware.  I'm thankful for his love and his visits.

Fast forward to 8/9/12.  Another HUGE loss.  Grief invited me to dance once again.  I didn't want to and I screamed at her to leave me the fuck alone.  My husband decided, again, that he wanted to continue on his journey ALONE.  Again, seriously?  How the hell could this be happening...  AGAIN?!?!?  I was so devastated.  I longed for my brother during this time.  He always knew what to say when I needed it the most.  This life situation was another great teacher of grief and just like losing my brother it has taken a lot of time to heal from this heavy loss.  Losing my marriage made me pause and examine my beliefs regarding love, relationships, family, communication, self-love, self-esteem and self-worth.  I have held myself under a microscope and examined every nook and cranny, trying to uncover beliefs that no longer serve me, discover myself again, and heal from this loss that shook my being.  I felt a veil of darkness, but forced myself to see the light.  I'd say life wants us to move quickly and "get through it" but that's not true.  Honestly, it's the people in life that want us to do that.  I've realized, once again, that people can't handle other people's pain.  It creates an uncomfortable stirring within themselves that leaves feelings like despair, hopelessness, helplessness, shame, guilt, anxiety, fear, sadness, anger and vulnerability.  I've sat on the other side of grief too, watching those I love flail about, writhing in discomfort and pain.  It's hard.  I've wanted to help but knew I couldn't...  it was their journey and process, something they had to go through and sit with.  My job was to provide love and non-judgement.  That's been hard too.  We humans are so quick to judge another person's journey.  I try not to and really work on it, and even though I work to not cast judgement, I still occasionally do.  Losing my family as I knew it, has been a really hard journey.  One that I am still navigating through but I'm dancing.  Letting go and learning to live differently has been a period of discovery, and trial and error.  Sometimes I've failed miserably but not without learning something.

Last October I went through another loss.  It was through the loss of Jon and my marriage, that I was able to navigate through my grief with a little more ease.  I was able to recognize the dance steps and although she was still in the lead, following the dance wasn't quite as hard.  Losing my step-father, Glenn, was unbelievably hard.  I had come to love him so much and his presence in my life.   I can remember sitting in the park with a deep sadness, a sadness I couldn't seem to shake.  I looked at my ex-husband and said aloud...  "I'm depressed.  I'm so unbelievably sad that Glenn isn't here."  Saying those words, acknowledging the stage of grief I was in, was so liberating.  That simple act broke me free and my healing process started.

Beyond my own grief, watching my mother go through another deep loss in her life, was much harder.  This last year, she has shown an amazing amount of strength.  Losing Jon, was the hardest thing she has ever been through and practically broke her.  Losing Glenn, is easily the second hardest thing she has been through, and as I've watched her this past year, I stand amazed at her strength and growth.

Grief, I hate and love the word simultaneously.  Weird, right?  I hate it because of the loss we go through and the grief we feel as a result.  I love it because sometimes what we are grieving was necessary in order to become more than we were prior to the grief.  I've learned that grief is an individual process.  It's important to be kind to yourself as you navigate through it and dance slowly but not too slowly because it's easy to get stuck in one place.  You know that heavy feeling in your feet when you're immobilized?  In order for healing to occur we need to continue to dance, but if by chance we get stuck, it's possible to get unstuck.  There's light in the midst of darkness.  Remember time heals all wounds.  I hate using a cliché but there are reasons they exist.  I promise you, time will go by and the pain will lessen.  The first year is the hardest.  Experiencing all the firsts without the person you love so dearly...  no words can describe what that's like.  Be patient with yourself.  Love yourself by not judging your process.  Find healthy coping mechanisms that will help you through the grief.  I have several that have helped me over the years...  Being outside in nature, music, art, writing, screaming at the universe, talking with supportive friends, biking, running, crying, crying, crying, did I say crying?  I have found that a physical release, is just as important if not more important to my process, as listening to music or any of the others on the list.  The endorphins that your body releases when doing something active is a natural way to make yourself feel better.  Love yourself.  Take the time you need to heal.

After I finished this post I thought it was pretty humorous that I chose to use the analogy of "dancing with grief."  I am introverted and shy, and although I love dancing, I hate doing it because I don't like the attention it brings.  Being the center of attention is so dreadful for me....  eyes on me, no thank you.  This made me laugh and realize I need to dance more, not with grief, but in a crowded room with the sweet sound of music as it fills the room.