OpinionatedGift’s Click

I met OpinionatedGift through this blog and Twitter.  He left a nice comment, I clicked on his blog, read and instantly knew he was good people.  I have so enjoyed reading his thoughts and opinions over the last year.  He is a really good friend and someone I have a lot of respect for.  He was among the first group of people I asked to write a click story for me.  I’ve tried not to pressure him too much, but remind him every now and then that I’m still waiting for his click.  He always tells me he’s still thinking about it.  Last week I read the following post on his personal blog and I thought…that’s it.  I emailed and asked if I could share it here.  He kindly agreed.  You can follow him on Twitter here and read his blog here.

Twelve years ago this week I was spending my days going through my father’s apartment with my brother. Dad had shot himself on the 9th and his body was found by his oldest friend in New York on the 12th. Twelve years ago Wednesday.

Twelve years ago I was sifting through grief, memory and questions questions questions. Not the ones you might think. The fact is, when I got the call from my brother that the police had called him from Dad’s apartment, I knew what had happened. I’d hoped I was wrong. But I knew.

Mom said it best that night when we called to let her know. “He was always so sad”. It was true. He was also scared. Whatever the combination, he had a dim world view.

I loved my dad. He was basically a good man who never really dealt with his anger issues, his alcoholism or his strengths. A talented actor, he’d packed us up from Tucson Arizona, sold the Ford Falcon and got us on a train to New York City and went straight into substitute teaching and social work. His career as an actor was essentially small productions in holes in the wall (before the moniker “Off Off Broadway” was coined.) and extra work in movies.

As a kid I would listen while he would lament the vagaries of the business and how hard it was…and it instilled in me the belief that the business was indeed brutal. It didn’t stop me from wanting to be an actor. It didn’t stop me from thinking I could do better. But these things are insidious and the sins of the father are often visited upon the son. His beliefs did become mine and even when I achieved some pretty good if minor successes, my joy would be tainted by fear of the success not lasting.

Now to be sure, being an actor isn’t easy. It can be brutal, but I can see very clearly as I look back how my own thoughts and feelings that were inherited affected the way I approached my career and subsequently the way my career developed…or didn’t as it turns out.

Twelve years ago fears and doubts overtook my father to the point that he no longer was able to reason. This man who raced down the street with me…encouraged me to take the training wheels off my back when he knew I could. The man who when he saw I was floundering in my efforts to audition for the High School of Performing Arts bought a gazillion plays for me to look through and helped me find the right pieces and even coached me. A man who as a social worker had saved or improved as best he could, so many lives, wasn’t even able to remember a simple meditation technique because anxiety had overcome him.

He’d been given Buspar and started to take it, then stopped. 12 years ago it got so bad that he sat at the edge of his bed and ate the barrel of a .357 magnum. He left a note that was really more of an excuse than anything else. Fears of a cancer that didn’t exist.

Two weeks later, the girl he wanted to marry, a dancer from Japan was finally allowed back into the country. He’d become convinced it wouldn’t happen after months of legal back and forth. Fear of being alone and abandoned convinced him that his life wouldn’t work out as he desired. So it seems he decided to just stop trying.

12 years later I still wrestle with loving him and hating him. Remembering his capacity for compassion for everyone while he seemed to only have pity for himself. I am sometimes on the edge of forgiving him. And then I remember having to tell my daughter what happened. I remember how as she is now almost 20 years old, she can’t play chess because that’s what she used to do with Grandpa. I can’t quite do it.

For the past 12 years, for about 3 weeks before and after the anniversaries, he shows up in my dreams. Sometimes as if he’s never been gone, sometimes as if he’s only been on some trip in South America or something and we all just THOUGHT he was dead.I forget about it…forget it’s that time of year…sometimes even the days of his actual death or the day he was found go by entirely unnoticed. Sometimes not.

Twelve years later I can watch Dirty Harry make one line comments about his Magnum and still get a kick out of it. But when Heroes first aired and there was an episode with half a skull being cut off and brains removed, I get completely worked up.

I wrestle with fear too. And it’s not hard to see how it keeps me from acting. Clouds my thinking. I’ve made a decades long struggle of shifting from “can’t” to “can”. It hasn’t been easy.

Twelve years ago I cremated my father. Twelve years later I’m still cremating parts of his legacy so I can rise from the ashes.

Jill’s Click

I’m not sure where I first met Jill, whether it was Twitter, our blogs, or Owning Pink, but I know that I read whatever was the current blog post on her page and added her immediately to my blogroll b/c it spoke to me so strongly.  I have enjoyed tweeting with Jill and she is always so very supportive of my blog and writing.  She sent me the following post in response to my request.  It couldn’t have come at a more perfect time.  An essay about moving past fear as I was stuck in a fearful place, worried about rejection.  Thank you Jill, for the following wise words.  You can follow Jill on Twitter here and read her blog here.

When I was asked by Leslee to write a Click story I was momentarily panicked.  I instantly heard a voice in my head say, “No way! You can not do that. You have nothing to say. You don’t remember any click moments.”  It was the voice of fear.

Fear has often stopped me in my tracks. To be honest, it has not only stopped me, but it has knocked me down and pushed me into a deep hole and then shoveled dirt on top of me. Ok, that is a little dramatic, but that is exactly how my life used to feel. I would be wandering along happily and then BAM!! Something would bring fear into my heart and I would fall to pieces.

Since January of 2009, I have been on an interesting journey.  I don’t remember the specific date, just that it was a Saturday in January. I was at my baby sisters house and we were discussing the spiritual journey she was about to begin. She had recently quit a job that was sucking the life out of her and she was feeling drawn to California. I remember sitting there seeing how happy she was and how she was much more relaxed than I had ever seen her before.  I wanted what she had. Then a thought came into my head from nowhere that turned me upside down.

“You get to decide. You get to choose who you are.”  With that thought I was brought to tears. These were tears of joy.  It was like my life had never existed until that very moment. I was so excited to finally get to live my life on my terms.

I chose a few things that day. I chose to no longer accept that I was an addict of any kind. I had recently left a 12-step group for compulsive overeating, and while in that group I had also accepted that I was probably an alcoholic. On that cold, January day I gave those labels to the Universe, and I was happy, joyous and free for the first time in my life.  I chose to let my past be my past.  I chose to allow myself to be happy and beautiful, even if I was overweight.

It was very much a spiritual experience, but I had a long way to go.  I was coming out of the depths of my own living Hell, so there was much more work to be done.  Over the next year I had my ups and my downs, but I never lost sight of the fact that I get to choose.  I spent numerous hours reading all things spiritual. I also spent many hours in the therapist’s office.  The day came when I decided that I no longer needed a therapist. I was ready to go it alone.

My life continued to get better. My heart opened in ways that I didn’t think were ever possible. I learned how to love myself and others fully. I recognized that I had been sharing my Spirit with a bully and got some help to get rid of it once and for all. Happy, joyous and free had continued to be my destiny.

I can’t possibly remember all of the defining moments I’ve had over the past year and 3 months.  There have been many.  The next one that struckme came sometime in November (or was it December). I honestly can’t remember. I was on Twitter and in my Twitter stream came a Divinely inspired tweet. I don’t remember the exact quote, but it was about giving up “chicken behaviors” and living bullet-free.

I decided at that moment in time that I wanted to be bullet-free. I wanted to live fearlessly, out in plain sight. So I committed to facing my fears and not letting them control me any longer.  You see, even though I was happier than I had ever been in my life, I was still letting fear live a part of my life for me. I was still holding back because I was afraid of what people would think of me.

So starting in January 2010 I dedicated my year to living it free of fear.  If something puts fear in me I know that that is something I need to do.  I have faced a number of fears through my blog. I found my voice and now I let it speak. I no longer deny my spirituality. If someone wants to know who I am I tell them. I started homeschooling some of the Littles again because I knew in my heart it was the right thing to do, even if others didn’t think so.  I sang karaoke for the first time recently, because it has always been something I wanted to do, but was too scared to try.  And when Leslee asked me to submit a Click story, I knew by the fear I felt that I would be writing that story.

My decision to live a fearless year has not been easy. I still have fears that I have to face. I have avoided some conversations with loved ones. I have a phobia of the dentist that I will be facing soon. I have kept my truest self hidden from certain people.  These are all fears that I have, but I know that each one will be dealt with. I know this because, I get to choose. And because I have chosen to live free, I know that I will face all things that make me want to run and hide.  I’m done hiding.  I’m living out in the open.  Happy, joyous and free.

Hope’s Click

The following click story was left in a comment on my “writer’s wanted” page.  Names and some details have been changed for privacy….

~Silly girl fairy tales aren’t real~

Lately on my Facebook page my friends may have noticed some bible verses and things about going to court and asking for prayers.
Of course no one plans on going through a divorce, not in the beginning.  I didn’t. Ah, I’ve been married twice to the same man. The second round we told each other contently how we must be meant for each other for three years to pass and us to fall right back into love like we never left. I loved him so much.  Neither one of us had jobs when I came back from NM after being in the air force… and then we both got jobs right away it. It seemed like everything was falling into place so quickly, I wanted a baby. I wanted to be settled, play house if you will. I’ve never been big on going out with the girls or even really had many girl friends. So what else did I have to look forward to in life? I wanted my life to have more meaning, I was depressed. In my head I thought if I have a baby my life will have more purpose… Not a lot of women will admit that they feel that way. So what a perfect time to have a baby.  I’ve mended my old marriage, I always planned on having a family with ‘Him’, at least in the beginning. I ask myself now why didn’t I look back at all the hurt he put me through before… and the only answer I can come up with is, well “Love is blind”, and also being a women or maybe being a Christian I forgive, and unfortunately forget too. I thought to myself we were young, stupid and out of our environment (away from home).

So I told him I wanted a baby, he of course was willing to try…(eyes roll). I wasn’t concerned about getting remarried because we already did that. I told myself God brought us back together and in his eyes we were never divorced. I came back from NM in March, moved in with him in April, got a job the same week… and found out I was pregnant in May. My son was born a month early on Jan 25, 2009. And spent 2weeks in the NICU. He is a healthy bouncing baby boy now.
I never really accused the father of my child of drinking the whole time I was pregnant. Although there were plenty of signs that he was. Those times he came home from the night shift and smelled of beer, I would ask him “have you been drinking?” When he would come in to kiss me goodnight… he would quickly jump in the shower. And then there was the time I found him passed out in his truck with it running, beer cans and him falling out of the truck when I opened the door. What happened to him while I was gone? He wasn’t this bad before he just didn’t work (he was too young to buy beer before). Then there was the time towards the end of my pregnancy; we had a yard sale trying to make room for the baby… He was upset about getting rid of some of his things and said he would help me with the yard sale as long as I let him drink. I said no, so he hid it.
By the time the time our baby was 12 weeks old I had no idea this was going on behind my back it all came out later how bad the drinking really was. I left the house and everything in it when our son was 12 weeks old. My son and I had nothing, just the clothes on our backs, it wasn’t a planned escape. His grandmother almost pushed us out the door, I now believe she thought she could get this new mother so upset I might leave the child with her… didn’t happen.
Stupid me we never married, but it could of been a good thing. Until the day came for us to go to court for child support. We made amends I never wanted any of this and besides it wasn’t his fault he took his grandmothers side and left us with nothing and never called to hear my side of the story or to even see his son, for 3months? But he could go to church and sit with the other babies and the nursery with his father also a recovering alcoholic…

After that we remarried
Again I forgave him we said we’d work on things, he would go to AA, we would go to counseling. He went to 2 AA meetings.
Then one day he was off the wagon… it got physical.
I’ve never felt the warmth of blood running down my face before. A bloody nose…
Anything after this point just seems redundant…
I knew my life would never be the same when I found out I was pregnant; I had no idea this was in store for me.
Well I remain hopeful, just like my name.