Potentially Exciting News...

Since my return to Bahrain I have been looking for avenues in which to use my writing in ways that will both interest me and possibly pay me as well. I've been looking for jobs in that area but so far haven't been successful; however, last night a whole new potential direction was opened up to me. 

Bahrain has a writer's club of which I only recently discovered. It is actually called, Bahrain Writers' Circle, and we all met last night during the first meeting of this new year. They have been a club for a few years now and a speech by one of the leaders gave a run down of all that they have done and hope to do again this year. Among other things, they have an agreement with Bahrain's Ministry of Culture to present the works of local writers' during Bahrain's many cultural venues held through out the year. This particular man expertise is poetry and he explained how they do poetry readings at the national forts scattered around Bahrain. Apparently he teaches the readers to read with real emotion and flair in order to engage the listener. He detailed how all the poetry is gathered and published in a book and presented to the Ministry of Culture. He also said that he truly hopes that at least one person in that meeting will make something of their writing using all that this club has to offer in way of support and opportunity. Apparently several of the longer term members have done some amazing things they credit the club with and others are equally as hopeful in that endeavor. It sounds exciting to me even though I have never really been much into poetry. I might give it a try simply for the experience factor. 

I met a young lady that wrote and published her own book here in Bahrain and she started with just 500 copies and they flew off the shelves so she is on her second print already. The book is the first fiction novel written by an English writer and published in Bahrain while also being based in Bahrain. Arabs are not big on publishing English books so most would be writers must look outside the gulf to find someone to publish their book. She used a local publishing firm and basically they printed the manuscript out as is, meaning, no proof reading, or editing other than what she did herself. She wrote in on Microsoft Word so it printed out quite badly, yet nobody at the press bothered to inform her of that until all 500 copies were printed. Apparently that didn't stop the buyers though as she sold most of the copies the first day it was released.  She acknowledges that basing it in Bahrain let her write freely because it is what she knows and buyers can connect with that as they live here and recognize every place she writes about. Of course that speaks to my personal experience as well so will definitely keep that in mind. I am impressed with her that she just decided to write a book, wrote it, sat on it for a number of years, then decided to just print it and see what happens. Good things happen to those that get off their ass and do it obviously. 

This club might be just what I've been looking for as far as getting my own dreams of publishing a book off the ground. I liked the people I met, the goals of the club as well as the many accomplishments they have already enjoyed considering they are just a small group of people that really like to write and present it to the public. I also liked the enthusiasm of the that one leader in particular, David Hollywood. He is from Ireland and so very gung ho about making every writer in that room famous somehow. Was hard not to be fired up by his energy levels alone. 

One very interesting thing was that I knew nobody in that room when I entered it but apparently my name preceded me (I joined the Facebook group a few weeks beforehand) as some of them knew who I was based on my writing to the paper etc.. That was quite something and made me feel rather proud. Always does when that happens. 

I do like the potential this group has to offer me in terms of getting some sort of foothold in the writing field and, of course, finding ways to entertain myself with a great group of people doesn't hurt either. I shall update as things progress. 

Grandma Coolred...how awesome is that?

 Maya Rashid AlJuma March 24, 2013

During my long absence my oldest daughter had the nerve to make me a grandmother without so much as asking me. As I said...what nerve. She was due around March 23 and thus I made it my goal to be with her during one of the most terrifying wondrous moments of her life. I was alone for the birth of all 5 of my babies so I know what it feels like to not have a hand to hold or someone to calm me down...I didn't want her to feel that way even for a moment. 

Of course I told her I wouldn't be able to make it because I simply didn't have the money for such an expensive ticket. She believed me...so gullible.

I got busy on my side, ensuring I had a month off from work (all my coworkers seemed as excited as I was by the prospect of me becoming a gramma...ancient jokes were in abundance) and I waited impatiently for my tax return to show up. It was the only way I could afford to go but it was taking it's damn sweet time and time was running out on me if I was going to make it there before she delivered. 

Now here is the thing. Other than my kids over here...and coworkers of course...I told nobody that I was going to Bahrain...not even my best friend there. The only person I did tell was someone I knew who wouldn't spill the beans..so he could pick me up at the airport. (well that didn't work out as well as I hoped but what to do?)

My daughter constantly made comments about wanting me there and how she was getting so nervous and worried. I told myself if she really did start to freak out I would ensure her I was coming to calm her down...but that point never arrived so all was good. The day I left I constantly texted her and everyone over there all the way across the U.S. until I lost contact in the air. By this time my best friend sort of had a clue of my intentions as I would see in all the texts back and forth later...but she wasn't positive. 

I arrived in Bahrain after a torturous 23 hour flight all together. I was exhausted...and to make matters worse...my expected ride was no where to be found. My phone had discharged at this point so I couldn't even see his number to call him. I still wanted to surprise my daughter but wasn't sure what to do at this point. My plan wasn't working out...grrr.

I ended up waiting about an hour before I decided he wasn't coming (I was the only red head in a sea of dark haired people..he wasn't there or he would have seen me) so I decided to take a taxi to best friends house. Surprise her...then go to daughter's house and let the party begin. 

By the time I got to best friends house it was fairly late..and she wasn't there. I spoke with her housemaid who ensured me she would be coming soon...so I hid in her ladies salon where I could see when she arrived. Unfortunately, her housemaid wasn't very good at keeping secrets and sort of let the cat out of the bag as soon as best friend arrived. So much for surprises...grrr. 

She was surprised, to a point, but had a feeling I was coming over and so expected me as well. By this time it was quite late and since my daughter was late stage pregnancy and didn't need middle of the night surprises...I decided to wait until morning to spring my awesome self on her. I spent the night at best friend's house and anticipated the morning's adventures. 

A little bit of back story at this point. I had told my daughter previously that I bought a lot of baby things for her...but would mail a box to her and hopefully it would arrive on a certain date (my arrival date no less). She was constantly asking me if I had mailed the box and I told her be patient. So the next morning my best friend calls her and tells her SHE had the box..as I had actually mailed it to her...not my daughter. My daughter was sort of miffed at that but was happy just to know it arrived..and told best friend to bring it over. 

When we arrived at daughter's house...best friend knocked on door and indicated that the box was so big a man from the street was carrying it for her to the door. As I sprung around the corner..my daughter was standing there with a very skeptical look on her face at this point...but it immediately dissolved into a pool of tears as soon as she saw me. I quickly realized how relieved she was to have me there..and I was very happy that I had decided to come despite the crazy cost of the ticket. 

After celebrating we got down to the business of waiting for baby to arrive. She still had about a week to incubate so we shopped, and readied baby room and just enjoyed the next few days while baby was still on the inside (always the best place for them). 

During prenatal visits the doctor kept mentioning C-sections and epidurals as choices my daughter  could consider and I was rather irritated by that. Why not promote natural birth first and foremost...why even bring those up unless the need was very apparent? By this point baby was being just a tad stubborn and delayed her arrival by a few days so induction was talked about. My daughter decided March 24th would be the day to get baby moving. We waited for that day to arrive with bated breath and mixed feelings of Fear and Finally it would be over with. 

The morning of the Big Day we arrived at the hospital very early in the morning and daughter was settled in and prepped for an I.V. etc. to begin the process. She was scared but I could also see that she was very relieved to have me there..along with her husband. I might add at this point that her husband is a wonderful man and was there every step of the way with her (as much as he could be). Always attending her prenatal visits...always very interested in what she was going through and doing whatever he could to ensure her comfort and calm state of mind. They chose a private hospital that would allow him to be with her during the whole birth process as well and he was with her every moment. I like him a lot. 

When her doctor arrived...she still brought up a possible C-section and epidural..even though my daughter was doing fine up to this point. Yes she was experiencing pain but she was handling it well..so what the hell? I talked with my daughter and advised her to do what she thought was best but that natural birth was the best choice unless something warranted such actions. She seemed intent on doing it the natural way...which didn't seem to please her doctor for some reason.

My best friend arrived at some point and we all spent the morning listening to the fetal monitor, getting my daughter whatever she needed..and counting the minutes down. She was very slow in dilating, was experiencing more and more contraction pain, but was doing OK. Once again the doctor came in and advised her to consider a C-section or epidural. Her comment was that she didn't think my daughter could handle the pain...which was odd considering that's exactly what she was doing up until this point. My daughter told her...I'm fine right now. Give me a chance to do it this way. 

Shortly before noon, as we were all gathered around, my daughter (while suffering through more intense contractions at this point) suddenly demanded we get the nurse. It seemed the urge to push had just arrived. The nurse came and did a pelvic check and was surprised to learn that my daughter had went from barely 2 cm over several hours to 7 cm in no time flat. Suddenly things got serious and nurses came in preparing to take her to the delivery room. 

Best friend and I waited just outside the delivery room for awhile...alternating between crying and excitement...waiting impatiently for good news. Her doctor came out at one point and said we could go in if we wanted. Wow...that was awesome. I didn't think I would be able to be with her..just near her...at that point. We put on gowns and hurried into the room. 

Daughter was concentrating on her moment in the limelight...SIL was holding her hand and doing his part to keep her calm...and the nurses were running around like those last few minutes before the curtain was drawn and the show began was at hand. 

Best friend and I elected to stand just behind the curtain since it was close enough to offer support but not in the way of all the activity. We shouted encouragement to her every step of the way..until we eventually heard what we had all been waiting anxiously for 9 months to hear...the indignant cries of a new life brought into the world. 

We were all crying, excited, and overwhelmed...but not too overwhelmed that we didn't record the moment when new baby Maya was brought over to the table for her first check up. It's an awesome video that I would have loved to have with any one of my own children. Oh well..sign of how things are changing in Bahrain from the 80's. For the better in some regards. 

At some point my daughter looked at her doctor and told her...see, I did it without drugs or anything. I proved you wrong. That's my girl. Don't let the doctors bully you into unneeded procedures unless it's absolutely necessary. Everything and everyone came through with flying colors. 

And  I was a new grandma. Grandma Coolred. How awesome is that?

I spent the next two weeks helping daughter with whatever she needed but she assured me that she had a perfect example on motherhood due to her own mother. She had this. Very cool. A million pictures and a hundred videos later...I was sad to see my day of departure arrive. I had to say goodbye to my two kids, my new granddaughter, SIL, and best friend that I love so much. It was the first time I had ever found it hard to leave Bahrain. Imagine that. All it took was a new little baby to make that happen...well not just that...but more on that later. 

So little Maya is well over a month old now...thriving and keeping her parents on their toes. I get lots of daily pics and videos still and share them with everyone who doesn't run away at this point. My daughter is planning a trip here so her siblings can see their new niece and her husband can visit the states for the first time. I can't wait to see them. 

I will make an effort to be in Maya's life because my own children did not have that sort of connection with their own grandmother (thought hind sight tells me they didn't miss out on much but at the time it was very hurtful to me)...plus I have so many things to teach this precious little girl. Sarcasm and a sharp tongue being top of the list...as self defense against the Stupids of the world.

 It's the least I can do. 

 

The Big Golden Dog that spoke to Coolred in her dreams.

Anyone that has known me throughout my life is aware that I have a thing with dreams. My dreams often come true...in one way or another. This has happened my whole life and I have just come to expect certain dreams will "speak" to me in some way. Now I may have a dozen dreams a week...several dozen a month etc. with nothing extraordinary happening..but then one dream will come along that stands out. It's rather hard to explain why this dream is different except to say that while I'm having the dream, I'm fully aware that THIS dream has something to tell me...and it's usually more vivid and more "real" than other dreams. I wake up and immediately know that something will happen eventually to make this dream "come true".

Another clue that tells me a certain dream is more special than other ones is that I will have it more than once. Up until recently, twice or possibly three times was the max for having one particular dream (with variations but all on the same theme) until that dream played out is some fashion in real life. After that, I never dream that particular dream again.

Until several months ago that was the pattern for my Special Dreams. Now and then a certain dream would come to me...possibly twice or three times...and then become reality in some fashion. Not all the dreams were good, so to speak, so I can tell you that I have been damn scared by some of them...but generally speaking they have been pretty interesting the way they played out.

As I said, up until a few months ago...then something happened that changed the whole Special Dream scenario...I dreamt of a Big Golden Dog. When I say big...I mean larger than the size that this particular dog (it appeared to be a Golden Retriever type dog) generally grows. His head reached my chest and was the most beautiful dog I have ever had the pleasure to look at.

I knew from the moment this dream started that Big Golden Dog was special. I needed to pay attention to this dream. However, in the first dream he did nothing more than follow me around the dream as the dream itself played out. I wasn't surprised when about a month later he showed up in my dreams again. This time he walked by my side as I wandered through my dream. Again, nothing happened to explain his presence but I felt incredibly calm just having him in the there with me. I remember waking up and just laying there almost expecting that he followed me out of the dream...that's how real he seemed to me.

Over the course of several months Big Golden Dog made an appearance in my dreams 4 times (the first time a particular dream happened that often)...but something interesting started happening...he started looking directly at me and doing things with his muzzle (mouth) that made me feel as if he was trying to speak to me.  It got to the point where I absolutely hated waking up because I felt like just a few more seconds and I would understand what he was trying to tell me...and he was really struggling by the 4th dream. I knew, without a doubt, that if he showed up in my dreams again...he would speak to me...and I also knew he had something important to tell me. 4 dreams obviously meant something...but what?

You know where this is headed, right? Big Golden Dog did show up for a 5th time...and yes...he spoke to me...but wait...first let me give some back ground that will explain what he had to tell me and why it was so damn important that I get the message (as if I needed telling but who am I to dictate my dreams...or who shows up with a message in them).

If you read my previous post (I hope), you will know that I have been struggling with a lot of personal issues for a long time. The past few years have been especially hard after the divorce (and the reasons for it) and just dealing with the anger that permeated me so deep I think my bones were soaked in fury. I sank quite low, to the point where friends were abandoning me and I was in danger of losing some very important relationships that meant the world to me. I was on a very destructive course that had me free falling into The Black.

It's about this time (at my lowest and darkest point) that Big Golden Dog first showed up. I didn't equate the two until much later...as you will see.

At around the beginning of this year I had a nasty wake up call. I realized that if I continued on this course of self destruction I was going to lose the one relationship that mattered more than any other (besides my children). I needed to figure out a way to rid myself of this over powering anger in order to save myself...and the relationship. By this time Big Golden Dog had shown up 3 times.

I started thinking (see previous post) about all my issues and what was at the root of all the anger. My ex obviously played a very big role in this. The life I had with him has scarred me in ways that I will never be rid of...but I was holding onto the anger long after the divorce was a done deal...so essentially I was keeping the man in my life as if we were still married. I needed to drop that mentality if I planned on getting rid of that anger. I spent two days off from work, around this point, doing nothing but laying in my bed and thinking...and just letting go of things that had bothered me to the point of causing issues for me...and for those closest to me. It was a weekend of mental purging and by the end of it I was completely exhausted. I barely had the energy to return to work...but before I did Big Golden Dog returned for a 4th time. This is when he really tried to talk to me but couldn't quite make it.

By this time I had told plenty of people about my dreams and the latest star appearance. Everyone had opinions about what a dog in a dream meant but I was no nearer to knowing at this point what his purpose was...but I knew he would come again and I was patient.

By March I had sorted through a lot of my mental anguish and had let so much crap go that I started feeling like a new person. It was mid March that I traveled to Bahrain to attend my daughter's birth of my first grandchild (another story there) and for the first time ever...I enjoyed my time spent in Bahrain (with a few bumps). So much of the anger and suffering that I equated with that country was simply gone. It was almost like visiting it for the first time...with no preconceived opinions about it. When it came time to leave and return to this life...I actually didn't want to go. Yes, I know. Quite surprising that Coolred was actually reluctant to leave the country where here demons came to life...but reluctant I was. I could almost feel my heels digging in even as I looked forward to seeing the children I had left behind for a month.

It was then that I truly realized I had successfully done what I never thought I would ever be able to do. I separated the fact of my abusive 20 year marriage to a worthless human being...from the country it took place in. Bahrain wasn't evil just because evilness occurred there. If that were true then America would be evil and unacceptable to me as well since my own father was every bit as abusive as my ex. I realized that I had been equating the place with my ex and my marriage...and for that I had been making those closest to me suffer with my anger and personal issues. I also realized that because some of my children still live there (and my new grandchild) that I would obviously be making more trips back there and so getting rid of the anger and bullshit that crowded my mind was paramount if I was going to be the Awesome Gramma that my own mother never was (another story...I have plenty of them...just wait).

I returned home with renewed determination to continue the healing process. I had plenty of incentive...a new me...a new life awaited...and happiness.

And so...for the 5th time Big Golden Dog showed up in my dreams (last week)...and he spoke to me just as I knew he would.

And this is what he said.

You have lived a life full of pain. It has made you who you are today, for better or worse. You cannot deny your past nor can you change it...all you can change is how you let it influence your future. Letting go was essential for healing to begin. Those who left you while you struggled were meant to leave...and those who have stayed were meant to stay. Do not spend precious moments grieving or feeling anger for those that are no longer in your life as their paths sent them in a different direction. Those that love you, need you, and want you in their lives have made it a point to remain in your life. You have learned that life is short. Time is precious. Prolonged anger is a wasted emotion and love is often the victim. You have traveled a rough road but it has led you to where you are today. Be proud for what you have accomplished. There is still work to be done but you are well on your way. Happiness is always a choice.

I woke up from this dream feeling absolutely amazing. Rested and at peace with the choices and actions I have made recently. I have no doubt that what I want for what remains of my life is the right choice or me...but it doesn't hurt to get a second opinion that supports that choice. Ha ha.

Big Golden Dog (who remained nameless throughout the dreams but strongly reminded my of my dog King) was a sort of spiritual adviser I'm thinking. Something I've never experienced but certainly was well worth the wait. I have no idea if I will see him again but I doubt it. He had a message and he delivered it.

Just Let It Go

For those that use to read me regularly you may have noticed that I haven't written anything significant for quite some time. Writing is my Thing. It's what I do and I have always enjoyed it since I realized I do it rather well. However, this past year hasn't been My Year, so to speak. I've been in an up and down roller coaster ride that has had me either hanging on for dear life...or raising my hands in the air and enjoying the thrill. All this has resulted in one very troubling aspect in my life...I lost the desire to write.

Period.

It just left. No idea why...or really when but I realized at some point that I just had nothing to say anymore. Or maybe I felt my words had lost their ability to really convey what I was feeling or what I wanted to express. I have no idea but the end result was silence in the one area of my life I had always depended on to get my demons out...or my humor (I choose to call it that) or whatever was on my mind. Without being able to write...it has all been locked up inside me...and damned if I haven't suffered because of it.

I went down the rabbit hole more or less and apparently enjoyed it so much I decided to stay there for a spell. I have been down that hole before (my past made it a place I tend to visit from time to time) but I have always used my writing to pull me back out again. This time I did not have even that ability to rescue myself...so there I stayed.

Around the first part of this year I had a revelation of sorts. I was angry. Very angry. Angry at the people in my life (past and present) that have done things to me that turned me into a negative, pissed off person. Every day I was fuming about one thing or another. My temper, which use to be so hard to trigger, was now on a veritable trip wire. Anything could set me off...and I was a raging ball of fire. I was a seething mass of negative energy that ended up corrupting everything good in my life...because I was too angry to pay attention to the good things in my life.

I was letting my past ruin my present...and destroy whatever good my future held for me. I was allowing all that bullshit that was my past life...be the sum total of my present life. I was my past..and my past was me. When I realized that I was allowing those people, that are long gone from my life, to still be a part of it (taking up full time rent free space in my head) and therefore impacting and corrupting it...I knew I either accepted the rabbit hole as my forever dwelling...or fight my way out of it.

Everyone who reads (or did) about my life know that I have 5 kids. I had a blast with my kids while they were growing up. We were rarely apart for any reason and they were a close knit group of siblings. My kids are mostly all grown now. I have my youngest, 15 years old, at home still but the rest are off living their lives. The silence that is my house now weighs on me terribly. Gone are the sounds of the music they all played, the fighting or laughing...the messes they each generate in their way. This silence has fueled my anger in ways...because I had no distractions from that anger and could spend copious amounts of time nurturing it and feeding the flames. My children are the soul reason I survived my marriage. Having them in my life, knowing I needed to be there for them..meant I couldn't give up or give in. Even if I felt my life wasn't worthwhile or important, theirs was...and I had to make sure they knew it. Now they are gone (generally speaking) and Ive been alone with my thoughts, my inner demons, my anger issues...and that has meant I had little respite from the inner destruction that was going on.

As I said, I realized one day that I might as well still be married if I was going to wake up every day and spend my time, my precious time, living as if my ex was still a real and meaningful presence in my life. If my memories of the past were going to keep me company as I went about my daily routine, ruining whatever happiness I might gain from even the smallest of joys then why bother living. If the experiences I had while living in Bahrain for the first 20 years...were going to color and corrupt whatever came after that then what was the point of the divorce..of gaining my freedom...if I was still going to live as if I were a prisoner?

I realized that the only person that could save me from my anger and issues with my past...was ME. Once I realized this I set about on a course of emotional healing. I spend far too much of my time alone...but one thing that being alone affords me is time to think....and think... and think some more. At times I would lay in my bed, during my time off from work, and just think. I would do nothing else but think about my past, my anger issues and where they came from...and what I could do to change what I was becoming (or had become) into someone better. I would literally lay there for two days solid and just stare at the ceiling...going through every damn issue that had turned me into a person that others didn't want to be around (did I mention I have lost several "friends" this past year as well)...I thought it was them...but realized it must be me since it kept happening. I find it incredibly hard to make friends, went most of my whole life without really having any, so losing the ones I did have was like a confirmation to my already low self esteem that I'm not even worthy to remain friends with. If others can't stand me..what did that say about me?

I worked my way through issues that were like open wounds on my soul. I poked and prodded them and made them bleed out all that pent up corrosive blood until only fresh blood remained. As I dealt with each issue I would ask myself...why is this still making me so angry...and is it worth it still? Of course, most of the time (damn near every time) the answer was no. Anger and self loathing, low self esteem and feelings of unworthiness were not worth it. My past was what it was...I couldn't change that...but I could change today, tomorrow and whatever came after that. As I worked my way through each and every issue...the end result would be to Just Let It Go.

Like a balloon that yearned to be free and sail off into parts unknown...I released, one after the other, issue after issue that was weighing me down, corrupting my relationships, my goals, my life. As each balloon sailed away I felt myself become lighter inside. I started feeling something I hadn't felt in so long I wasn't even sure I was calling it by the right name.

I started feeling happy. (don't be as shocked as I was please)

Happiness is not a feeling I have really felt too often in my life...and when I say happy I mean more than just a fleeting moment of happiness that is more like a memory than a state of mind. It felt unfamiliar and alien at the beginning...almost like an impostor had set up residence after I kicked out the abusive squatters. I almost didn't know how to handle this new emotional state. I felt like a beginner at happiness..a noob that needed to feel my way around and learn the rules and tricks before really putting my all into the game.

Apparently the "new" me was attracting some attention. I have had people at work comment more than once that I always seemed to walk around with a scowl on my face (I'm sure I was as I always had some inner demon playing with my mind)..or that I looked like I wanted to punch someone. Now they were amazed to notice that I was smiling, whistling...even singing...while going about my work. I had a few people ask me if I was in love..had I found someone that had brought about this change. Well, first off, yes...I am in love, have been for years now, but that relationship was one of the ones I was busy destroying due to my anger issues and one I was desperately trying to save at that point....but the reasons for the smiling, whistling and singing was due to another person all together.

Me. I was happy....or working hard so that I knew it was coming. I could feel it...see it...taste it. As I worked my way though each issue...I finished with it..and then Just Let It Go. I could not possibly explain with adequate words the effect this had had on me emotionally. Yes of course I still get angry (more than I like still...a work in progress) and I know that to never get angry is just not possible...but when I trip up and fall into a full blown anger melt down, I mentally try as hard as I can to reign myself in and put a halt before it gets out of control. (again, not always successful but I'm far better at it then I used to be). I ask myself, will this matter in 5 minutes, ten...tomorrow...and of course it most likely won't. And when I realize this...I can almost  feel myself relax and feel the anger start to recede and dissipate. It has stopped my anger in its tracks most of the time...most, work in progress as I said.

I have reached a stage now where so many things that use to set me off (thoughts of my past, of Bahrain, of certain people) don't really affect me at all anymore. I can think about them without feeling that tightness in my chest that would be an indicator that rage was building. I can talk about them without gnashing my teeth or getting angry at the person I'm talking to because the person I'm really angry at isn't there. Those balloons have sailed...and I have never heard of a balloon that was set free...come back to its owner.

Now, if there was one set back to all this emotional healing...it's convincing others that it's actually taking place. People who know me, love me, are so used to Angry Red...that they are suspicious of New Red. For some reason they would rather believe that you can't change who you have always been even though those same people have been encouraging me for years to do exactly that. I have actually gotten into arguments (go figure) while trying to convince these same people that the changes are real, are reaping benefits and are permanent. I much prefer New Red to Angry Red...why would I go back to that...and why do those I love most keep insisting I do? I have no idea.

Anyhow, I have a lot more to say. That makes me happy just writing that as it means I have more writing to do...and I realize this post is not up to my usual standards but I felt the need to write and I haven't felt that in such a long time...I'm just putting it out there before the mood disappears. So you guys (if there are any readers left) get a rough copy and I'm sorry for that but it is what it is. 

A few topics I will write about are my two recent trips to Bahrain (yes...imagine that), my new status as Grandma (my granddaughter is amazing) and what the future might hold for me. I became friends again with my ex from high school and other topics that might be of interest.  Stay tuned...if you are interested. I know I am.

Oh mind of mine...

Being alone with my thoughts
What black chaos
What red pain

Filling my head with your sneaky ways
Devious pain filled images
Do you even care...oh mind of mine

Three little words on a screen
Causing doubt...hurt...regrets
Squeezing my heart

Wonder of wonders
It still functions...beats
Tho each one leaves me breathless

Choking my throat
Filling my eyes so I can't see
Squeezing...always squeezing

Oh mind of mine
You are not really my friend
Will you leave me too?

Now That Your Gone...pt 3

So my Father was in jail awaiting trial for the murder of my sister Nay. Our house was torn between feeling the desire to celebrate our new found "freedom" and worrying about the outcome of the trial. I was only 5 at the time but I clearly remember the tense atmosphere and the many whispered discussions between my Mother and her family.

As I said before I dont know the exact procedures that occurred that kept my Father in jail for nearly a year...I do know that my Mothers testimony was the key that was going to be the "deciding factor" as to whether he went to prison or not...I would have to assume there had to be some other sort of evidence...but my Mother has never said what it was...or even if there was. I do know that she was extremely torn up with guilt over her accusation. As horrible and abusive as he was...she couldnt make herself truly believe he was a child murderer.

Eventually her guilt got the better of her (or maybe the worst depending on how you look at it) and she decided she couldnt go through with it. She went to the police station and dropped her charges against him. Told them she was mistaken and was just emotionally distraught and not thinking straight at the time of her accusations. Without her "eye witness" testimony I guess the prosecution had little else to go on...and so my Father was released after nearly a year in jail.

Now I realize I have been calling him my Father all this time...but in fact they werent actually married up til now. He had been living with my Mother for years without marriage...when I mentioned marriage earlier I was referring to later on in their relationship (just wanted to clarify that). Later on as in after he was released from jail. Now here is the truly interesting part (and something I will remark about later on)...after being accused of murdering her child and spending one year in jail...with the possibility of life in prison...rather than turn and run away from this "crazy" woman...he came home directly from the jail...and told her they were getting married. I do believe my Mothers deep sense of guilt was the major deciding factor in her agreement to marry him...I cant believe or think of any other reason for doing so.

They were quickly married without too much fanfare and within a year my little sister was born. Now up until my sisters birth I believe my Mother could have actually made the effort to leave him if she truly had wanted to. There was nothing tying her to him...she would just need to work up the nerve and take that first step. However, with the arrival of little sister...she was suddenly bound to him in ways she couldnt imagine. Suddenly that little baby was a tool in his hand to keep my Mother by his side whether she wanted to be there or not. Over the years she made several efforts to leave him (I have forgotten the number of times she threw everything in the car along with us and took off without much planning)...only for him to track her down and drag her back...all with my little sister as the "threat"...as in...if you dont come back I will take her and you will never see her again. Take it from me...women can suffer a lot just for the sake of their children...especially when they feel helpless and powerless. Every time she left...he would track her down and bring her back.

Now, my Mother will tell me and everyone she knows that I am the one that suffered the most at my Fathers hands. Everything from beatings to verbal abuse to just down right treating me like a piece of garbage. My older sister got it as well but she was a rebel from an early age and tended to antagonize rather than sit quietly by and take it (a whole other story). I was the quiet introverted one...the book worm and A student that absorbed all this abuse with little or no reaction on the outside...on the inside I was living a mental hell.

My little sister was The Princess...spoiled and made to feel like our superior all our young lives. A role she played with a relish. I dont blame her for what she was in those days...a horrible little sister that added to our miseries with her infantile power to harm us with just a word to Father....everything she was he made her. Im happy to say she grew up about as normal as one can be given her upbringing...thank God...I didnt want to hate my sister merely because my Father preferred she hate us...as he did....but when we were young...I came about as close to hating her as two sisters can get and still maintain a relationship. We were enemies living in the same room...sleeping in the same bed...and we were pawns in the hands of that piece of shit.

I mentioned earlier my wondering at his coming back to marry my Mother and not just hightailing it for the hills upon release. Well I actually asked him one day...about 5 minutes before I believe he was going to actually kill me.(no lie). Picture this.

My Mother had been called away to my Aunts house in another state (my cousin had been raped and murdered...another story worth telling)...and my little sister and I were left with my Dad for about a week. Now among the many things I was not allowed to do...talking on the phone without permission was one of them. I was 17 years old and had a boyfriend (of sorts) and took the opportunity to make a quick call to him while my Father was gone (or so I thought). He walked in and caught me and preceded to give me the last beating I would receive at his hands.

He threw me across the room and I landed on a table and shattered it...and the next half hour was a blur...but in the end he got a gun and explained to me that since my Mom was gone...sister was at school...and we lived 17 miles from our nearest neighbors...he could kill me...bury my body somewhere...and tell everyone I ran away cause I was ungrateful for our home life. Who would know?

I believed him...I had no other choice at the time....but I was fed up at this point. I decided that if I was going to die..then at least answer me this one thing. I looked him straight in the eyes (something I had avoided doing for my entire life) and asked him this...

"Why did you come back to my Mother and marry her? Why did you marry someone that put you in jail and could have sent you to prison for life? You didnt love her and you certainly didnt love us. So why? I know why you did. You married her so you could make her pay and us as well for what she did to you. We have suffered 16 years of hell just so you could get some fucked up revenge."

That is the only time in my entire life I ever spoke to him in such a way...and so directly and with anger. I felt like if I was going to die...dont go quietly...let him know finally what I felt about him...and that I thought he was a piece of shit for what he had done to all of us.

Well...for the next 5 minutes (could have been a year...not sure) my Father knelt over with his hands on his knees and got within inches of my face. He stared at me with eyes snake black and without emotion. My heartbeat was pounding so loud Im sure he could hear it. He said nothing...just stared into my eyes and could have been planning my murder for all I know...but I didnt look away...I stared back. Dont ask me how or where the nerve came from...but when I think about that incident now I get goosebumps from the raw emotion and tense atmosphere that I can still feel today. Im sure my very life was hanging in the balance in those 5 minutes...but I didnt care. I wanted an answer...

But I didnt get one...after about 5 minutes he stood up...went to his room and put the gun away and left. For the next 2 months until I went into the military we did not speak a single word to each other. He completely ignored me which was fine by me. My Mother kept asking me what had happened when she was gone but it would be years before I told her.

My Father died from diabetes complications some years back. I find it hard to this day to believe that he is dead. He was 6'4"...a mountain of a man and ornery as all hell. He was mean and abusive and didnt give a shit about anyone or anything.

When he died...nobody cared. My sister had him cremated and he sits in a vase in the garage.

Now I sometimes wonder..if my sister had not died (I will never know if he really had anything to do with it) would he have stuck around...would he have tired of this woman with 4 kids that werent his...one a "mongoloid" that required lots of medical care etc. Would he have bothered himself over a family that wasnt his and he obviously didnt care about? But when he went to jail...I have a feeling his personality was what made him come back...for his abusive and vindictive revenge...he came back to make her pay...and us...for having the nerve to believe she had the power to hurt him.

He had all the power...and he never let us forget it.

Now That Your Gone...pt 2

The passing of my sister was understandably a huge sorrow in our lives. Even though she had been sick for much of hers..she had always been a ray of sunshine that effortlessly lit up a room when she was in it. It took a great deal to get that beautiful smile to waver from her lips my Mother tells me....and she never seemed to dwell on the fact that she was the sick one...always asking the rest of us "why we were sad" etc.

I was very young when my sister passed away...and the emptiness in my life after that is a feeling that has never gone away even though many years have passed since then. And I often sit and wonder what our lives would have been like had she survived her childhood and grown into an adult with the rest of us...but I digress.

For many months after her passing my Mother could not focus on the rest of us...on life. She was so unaware of time passing that my bday in November came and went and wasnt remembered by her until Feb. Of course I was too young to realize a milestone in my life had passed but on that Feb day when my Mother suddenly realized that she had forgotten an important day in one of her childrens lives...she quickly worked in a feverish frenzy to organize a bday party for me. There is a pic of all of us gathered with a few friends and family...me in my party dress...a very festive atmosphere with balloons and presents etc...but when I look at the pic I realize there are no smiles on the faces of the party goers...and I look like the saddest little bday girl in the world. I was suffering a deep loss without my Nay...as if my other half was gone and I faced the world (and the Big Bad Boogieman) alone.

Its during these months of unfocused living that my Mothers mind was working itself into a deep depression...playing the What If game but with a deadly consequence...What If....he hadnt gone into her room that day in the hosp? That dark thought kept my Mother preoccupied for the months that followed and while it remained just a thought in her head she could almost convince herself that her imagination was getting the best of her...but one day the thought, so far unspoken out loud, was spit out with a harshness that only long held pent up breath can express.

She was with her sister that day...listening to my Aunt tell her to "just let her go"...she was in a "better place now"...and life "goes on"...the usual platitudes we try and console ourselves with when a child is lost so young. My Mother listened until she couldnt listen anymore and in life changing moment (another one...sigh) she spit out those dreaded words...what if he had something to do with her death?

From the moment my Mother released those words our lives were once again turned upside down. My Aunt immediately jumped to the very worst conclusion knowing full well what sort of man slept beside my Mother at night and kept us all hostage with his abusive ways. It took her no time at all to inform the entire family that her niece had been murdered by "that MONSTER!!!" and the police needed to be told as soon as possible.

My Mother felt as if she was on a roller coaster ride...unable to control the speed or direction her life...our lives...had suddenly taken. She felt she had made a huge mistake by uttering those words out loud...but felt powerless to pull them back in...but after all...he was an abusive man...and he had been in her room for some unknown reason...what else is one left to assume?

Before too long my Mother found herself at the police station surrounded by various family members telling the cops about her suspicions and why she felt the way she did. I might mention that my Mother actually did very little talking during this initial visit...my extended family were more than happy to "fill in all the details" of our lives. Years later I find it somewhat hypocritical of them to jump to the role of 'saviors" and "justice seekers" for my sister...when prior to her death they all were fully aware of just what our family was suffering through at the hands of that man...and not one of them ever opened their mouths against him or tried to help us in any way.

I will fill in a bit of back detail here and tell you that the police station was well aware of the abusive and volatile ways of my Father. He had had run ins with them several times all ready. In one incident while my Mother was working at the bar....my Father got extremely jealous when a half drunk man made a pass at my Mom...during the ruckus that followed the cops were called in. Now my Father was not a drinker (thank God or Im positive that alcohol and his abusive personality would have resulted in one or more of us being dead at some point through the years...ironic considering this very story) and he didnt do drugs etc...but he also didnt take kindly to anyone...including cops...telling him what to do. Before the night was over....6 cops were needed to take him down and get him in cuffs....yes...they knew what they were dealing with when it came to my Father.

Apparently sufficient suspicions were aroused to warrant the arrest of my Father. I dont know how all that works but it was agreed he needed to be brought to the police station but wasnt likely to come on his own...so cops were sent to our house to facilitate as peaceful an arrest as possible. It was agreed beforehand with my Mother that they would come in the night when he was asleep...the element of surprise giving them the upper hand and all.

The courage it took my Mother to go home and act "normal" for the next few hours knowing full well what was going to happen...and knowing what could happen to her or us if he had even a glimmer of a clue about it must have made her sick with apprehension. She did her best to keep the rest of us quiet and sent us off to bed sooner then usual. It was agreed upon before hand that she would leave the door unlocked so the police could enter quietly.

The one fear she had more than anything else was the fact that my Father kept guns...and took delight in taking them out now and then and pointing them at her (and later us) and informing her on how easy it would be to pull the trigger and blow her brains out. She informed the cops of the guns and begged them to remember her children...promises of avoiding a "shoot out" were extracted...but really...it wasnt something they could promise when dealing with a man such as my Father.

2 o'clock in the morning while my Mother laid in bed with her heart hammering in her throat...barely able to stop herself from fleeing the room into ours as he slept beside her...the cops entered our home. They quietly stole through the house already knowing the layout and where they needed to go. Before long there were 8 police offices surrounding my Mother and Fathers bed...not a sound was made as my Mother was led away (I will add here that my Father was one of the lightest sleepers I have ever known...and believe me we all knew that...so why he didnt awaken that night is beyond me...they must have been seriously quiet).

My Father was awakened on that early March day with cops surrounding his bed and pistols aimed at his heart...for once he didnt put up a fight (now theres a What If game..what if he had....hmmm?)

*to be continued

And Now You Know The Rest of The Story

During my school years of 7th through graduation I lived 17 miles outside of town and so had to ride a school bus...along with a bus full of other students scattered outside of Rock Springs. Some of the events that happened on that bus ride everyday could make many many posts all by themselves...we had danger, excitement, boredom, fights, parties....and some heavy duty make out sessions by the more daring among us. Everyday was something new...but everyday was exactly the same in some respects.

Without fail our radio was blasting...to overcome the chaos and disorderly conduct no doubt but I believe our string of bus drivers just liked to pretend we all ceased to exist while the radio was cranking out the latest top 10. The variety of men and women that were signed up to drive our bus was truly a line up of the best and worst society had to offer. I sometimes wonder if our bus had some sort of a curse on it or maybe a bad reputation(turns out it did...lol)...considering nobody viewed driving it as a step up the school bus driving career later...but I digress...

Anyhow, despite our many adventures one thing remained the same...a daily dose of Paul Harvey coming on to quiet us all down and allow us a moment to reflect on "The Rest of the Story".

Anyone that has heard this program knows that the "rest of the story" always involved some well known figure that had some event in their lives that few knew about. During the entire monologue many of us would be trying to figure out who he was referring to based on some of the bits of information he mentioned. Shouts of famous names and possible outcomes were never in short supply. I liked to just sit and listen...and imagine one day Paul Harvey might be speaking about me to a million strong audience who knew all about me because I would be famous...but didnt know this one thing from my life...this one thing that made me human...brought me down to earth and allowed others to share my humanity...such is the life of celebrities that we view them as "above us" ...unreachable and somewhat infallible and iconic....immortal!!!

He had the best stories that never failed to bring smiles and comments of..."I knew thats who it was"...or shouts of...."no way man...thats gotta be a lie...that guy/lady would never do that"...and other such things. We kids apparently knew much more about these people Paul Harvey spoke of then he could ever know...ah the audacity of youth!!!

There are a multitude of bad memories I have of my younger years...memories that involved riding that bus as well (oh the stories) but Paul Harvey was a good one that could be counted on every day to bring a little sanity to an other wise chaotic life...if famous people could be viewed as normal...then our messed up little no account lives could mean something too one day.

The rest of OUR story is what we were striving towards...aiming for...dreaming of no matter what hell we were suffering at that moment. It was just a moment in a story that would and could read out completely different from its beginnings...after all...many of those famous people he spoke of started out pretty much as ordinary citizens who experienced extra ordinary events that changed their lives...that could be anyone of us...and so we dreamed.

I happened to hear by chance that Paul Harvey passed away recently. That brought a moment of sheer sadness...it reminded me of the fact that much of my life has passed me by and my story has never really had a chance to turn into something people might want to hear about on the radio someday...I thought about all my hopes and dreams and how through circumstance and fate...they have been all but forgotten...but then I figured...Im not dead yet...theres always time...as long as your still breathing there is time...so who knows?

A moment of silence for Paul Harvey...an American icon that was able to silence a busload of misfits and troublemakers long enough to allow us to dream of a future with potential.

Dont Look Down When the Sun Comes Up

My youngest daughter and middle son just celebrated bdays. Her 15th and his 17th. I was just sitting here wondering how it came to be that they are that old? Wasnt it just yesterday they were running through the house half naked with coloring markers all over themselves and nice artwork left on the walls for Mommy to admire...and clean off? God how I miss their childhoods.

Anyhow, it got me to thinking about the past and suddenly a memory came up that I hadnt thought of in quite awhile. I realize looking back that its rather a miracle that the 3 of us are here.

See, one night, around 13 years ago, with a full bright moon and crispy snow on the ground...we nearly went into the black. Picture this...

Has anyone driven through Wyoming up into Montana during the winter? Its got to be some of the more treacherous driving there is...especially considering Montana doesnt have a speed limit on the open highways(at least they didnt 13 years ago...not sure about now). Put the lead down to your hearts content...just remember once your into Wyoming...better slow down. The highway patrol in the big square state dont take kindly to scraping speeders off the highway just over the border from Montana....anyhow....

I had been staying with my older sister for a few weeks down in Wyo (grew up there you know) and had to return to Montana on the spur of the moment (was living there at the time). I didnt really have time to prepare for the trip adequately being in a hurry (thats another story...the reason for the haste) and couldnt make arrangements for the two younger ones to be looked after so was forced to take them with me. I threw two laundry baskets of clean clothes in the car...some snacks and necessities for the kids and off I went. It was to be one of the most heart stopping nights of my life...no lie.

I can no longer remember the highway numbers and road names etc (40 year old brain full of sand) so dont ask me exactly where I was when I took the wrong turn. Considering I had driven that route before a few times Im not even sure how I managed to make the wrong turn...but there it is...fate, destiny, the Hand of God...or maybe just two noisy kids in the back seat distracting me....whatever.

By this time it was around 11 pm and the night was cold and crispy with a beautiful full moon lighting up the road...which was becoming increasingly more narrow and headed upwards. It was about here that I realized things didnt look right so suspected I needed to turn around and retrace my steps...see where things went wrong. Well things were about to get much worse.

Im well aware that driving on snow is a dangerous activity at the best of times...but throw in unfamiliar territory, shaken nerves (reason for the trip), and the late hour...and its all you need to make a mistake. My mistake was to hit the brakes just a little too hard in order to slow down and turn around....I immediately went into a slide. I actually wasnt going that fast to begin with because I knew I was headed the wrong way so probably wasnt doing more then 30 at the time...but it was fast enough to put the car into a slide...and we were headed straight for the side of the road....that was pitch black.

The car did a complete turn and I had just enough time to think, Oh God!!! before slamming up against a snowbank...and came to a stop with the car tilted just awkwardly downward...with snow piled up against my drivers door. I nearly screamed at the prospect of the snow giving way and the car continuing its slide over the side...which, as I mentioned was pitch black. I couldnt see anything out my window except blackness. I couldnt see where the snow bank ended...if there were trees...if there was a ditch running along the road...nothing. The not knowing what was out there is a terrifying feeling ...believe me. Imagination going full throttle and all.

My heart was literally pounding out of my chest...I didnt dare to breath believing any sort of movement would start the car sliding again. I actually held my breath (without realizing it of course) until I nearly passed out...and had to let it go in an explosive release...which literally scared the shit out of me (dont believe me...just wait)...and I waited with breath held again to see if the car would stay put or not.

I dont really know how long I sat there without moving a single muscle...I was breathing in shallow breaths...trying not to even let my diaphragm be the deciding factor that tipped the scales in favour of gravity. I couldnt even reach out to put the car in park...the fact that it was still in drive terrified me and I slowly....ever so slowly, slid my foot away from the pedal believing I would accidentally hit the accelerator and that would be that. And I just sat there...my mind utterly blank as to what to do...how to save myself and my two small children...who were incidentally asleep in the back seat. To say that I was thankful for that small miracle is no lie...can you imagine if those two toddlers had been awake...there is no way I could have kept them from bouncing around in the car...the result of that too horrifying to contemplate....I prayed they would stay asleep...and for the ingenuity of Mcgyver to get us out of this danger. I was blank...and on the verge of a mental melt down.

Im thinking at least an hour passed before I got up the nerve to reach across and put the car in park. I did it so slowly...like a expert bomb diffuser...sweat dripping and breath shallow. For some reason I felt safer with the car in park...dont ask my why..probably just because I felt like I had DID something. Action is always better than inaction you know. So then I sat there for another hour or so (I think...who knows).

It was then I noticed the gas gauge was nearly on empty. My God if the gas ran out it was going to be horribly cold in the car in no time...and I hadnt brought blankets etc thinking I wouldnt need them. Now I vacillated between plunging to our deaths (depending on the incline) or freezing to death in the car and nobody finding us till Spring. I hadnt seen a single car come by up to this point obviously.

Now, this is the somewhat funny part (its been a riot so far right)....I had to go to the bathroom...seriously. Remember earlier when I said I got the shit scared out of me...that was no lie folks...I very nearly shit my pants when faced with the prospect of going over the side of the road into the black...up till then I had ignored the fact that I seriously needed to defecate if I didnt want to add one more misery to my night by shitting in my pants. I know it sounds crazy now...but hey...it was a crazy night.

So I sat there for another good half hour wondering if there was anyway I could maneuver myself out of the car in order to relieve myself...and of course that could entail risking moving the car enough to jostle it loose from the snow bank. Not to mention Im not the most athletic person in the world...so getting my ass across the seat to the passengers side and getting the door open seemed akin to climbing Mount Everest. Making that first move was torture...

Dont know how long it took me but I eventually got myself over there...with much pausing and holding of breath to see what the car was going to do about my recent clumsy move...it held. Once I got myself situated by the passenger door...I contemplated the act of opening it...and disturbing the balance of the car...and then thought about hefting myself out of the car...and disturbing the balance some more. I know this all sounds bizarre now...but I was burning up some braincells thinking about all the "what ifs" (theres that damn game again). Heres a truly strange thought....what the hell would I do even if the car started going over? Both the kids were in the back seat asleep...the sheer speed and dexterity I would need to throw myself out...open their door and drag them both out was something Im sure only Tom Cruise or Van Disel could manage with any hope of succeeding. In a bizarre way I felt as if I was protecting them by being in the car with them...but as soon as I got out of it they would be vulnerable to...it didnt bear thinking about....but I seriously needed to GO. I eased myself out....

The car stayed put....I stood there for a few moments looking at them sleeping in the back seat...seriously considering taking them out to remove them from the danger of going over with the car....but it was freezing outside. Already my teeth were chattering and the cold was seeping into my feet through my shoes. At least in the car they were warm...as long as the gas held out. I left them and went to the back of the car...to do my business and to try and determine just how deep in the shit we were...no pun intended. Pulling your pants down in the middle of the night on a moon shined snowy road thats so quiet all you hear is the crunch of your shoes in the snow is truly awesome...no lie. You still have the feeling someone is going to come along and catch you with your pants down...even though you feel like your completely alone in the world...and likely to stay that way. Eerily enough...I felt like hundreds of eyes were watching me...well it was the "wild" so who knows.

I checked the side of the car but it was completely black on that side...all I could see was the wonky angle of the car...and snow up to the door...nothing at all down the side of the road. I walked back to the passenger door and thought about getting back into a car that might likely plummet me to my death...but the fact that my two children were in there cast my hesitation away...I had no choice...it was too cold...and if they woke up I needed to keep them as still as possible. I eased back in...and sat there...for around 2 hours I believe...dont ask me what was going through my mind...I have no idea. Then the car turned off...the gas had run out.

In barely half an hour I was shaking with chattering teeth...shock no doubt contributing to my rapid decline...but amazingly the kids were still asleep and seemed to be warm enough...all cuddled up to each other.

I was seriously starting to wonder if anyone used this road other than ignorant white woman who headed out on the road with two toddlers without adequately preparing for the trip or paying attention to where she was going? By 6 am the sun was just starting to distinguish the day from the night. We had made it through the night...but how long until someone came down this road...and my God I was cold!!

It was about this time that I heard a truck coming and before long I could see its lights. We were saved!!! Yay us!!! Thank God. I carefully eased out of the car again and waited for my would be saviors to crest the hill...turns out that two early morning hunters had decided to take this road to a good hunting location...yes folks...somehow or another I had managed to get myself onto a little used hunting road...dont ask me how cause I dont know either. The men were peering at me out the window of their truck as if they had came across some new species of deer...I was momentarily warmed by the flush of embarrassment that shot through me....but was willing to look the fool just to get the children and myself the hell off that mountain. It was then the sun came up enough to get a good look at where we had spent the night...Turns out the snowbank was the only thing keeping my car from plunging off into a gorge that went straight down a good few hundred feet. Now I was really feeling warm...I guess thats what impending heart attacks do...warm ya up all nice and toasty...ya think?

I quickly got over my embarrassment and got the kids out with as much grace and composure as I could...they were just waking up...and were excited to find themselves in such a pretty place...and boy it was beautiful...any other day and I might actually enjoy taking in the view...not today!!!

The hunters actually asked very few questions all though Im sure they were a hell of a lot more curious then they let on...maybe they were use to finding lost mothers on the side of mountains precariously balanced over the edges of cliffs...I dont know...sounds like a regular hunting trip to me. They bundled us up in the truck...took us back down the mountain (yes I had manged to drive up a mountain...still...dont ask me how)...and located a tow truck to sort my car out.

So looking back...I realize what a lucky night that was...so many things could have gone wrong (other than the obvious of getting lost) but it worked out...Im thinking that if I had been aware of just what was waiting for us in that dark abyss...I might not have stayed in the car...I would have freaked out and dragged the kids out no doubt...and who knows what would have happened then....but the dark hid the danger....and I stayed put in the warmth of the car...and Im still here...and the kids are still here...they dont even remember it of course...they were too young...but I certainly do.

So happy bday (belatedly) my son...my daughter...Im so glad and thankful your both still here with me...and that Im still here for you. Love you.

Side note....thats one good reason to be happy there is no snow in Bahrain...could you imagine the driving here then?

Playing the What If game

There are many events that occur in our childhoods that can change who we are...or who we were meant to be. A good kid with a promising future can suddenly be thrown down a new road just by hanging out one night with a new chum that takes him to a drug buy. Promises of "you cant get hooked the first time" are famous last words...no? Or how about that valedictorian that believes her boyfriend when he maps out their whole future and promises of "happy ever after" ring in her ear...she will go to college and he will support her and life will be wonderful...until she turns up pregnant...and boyfriend runs for the hills. Its those "little things" that trip us up...set us on a new course that was never figured into the Big Plan that is our life. Quite often its meeting a certain someone...a new face in your life that appears to be a good thing but in reality should be accompanied with sinister back ground music and red flags all over the damn place...but most of the time we dont see the danger coming...we ignore the flags...and forever after that we are destined to spend a good portion of our severely altered lives wondering ....what if?

I was just watching a movie called The Butterfly Effect in which a man has figured out a way to go back in time and change events that happened in his childhood in order to change the tragic way things eventually turned out in his and his friends lives. However, he discovers that changing one thing in order to prevent some tragedy from happening etc only sets off a new set of circumstances that allow another sort of tragedy to happen. He tries again and again with varying results...none of them good...each time he or his friends are effected by the new outcome in a psychological or physical way. Eventually his only solution to prevent any sort of tragedy to all concerned was to never meet his friends in the first place..to never be friends with them and thus no event could ever occur that would result in tragedy. So he goes back one last time...and prevents that friendship from blooming....desperate act by a desperate man that loved his friends enough to sacrifice his future friendship with them.

Problem with altering his childhood so that he never met his friends thus preventing tragedy...he also prevented himself from meeting the future love of his life. One of his friends would eventually be his girlfriend whom he would love more than anything and she and the other friend would change his life for the better in many profound ways...as well as eventually leading to tragedy. And so...because he loved her so much...he gave up the opportunity of ever meeting her...of having her in his life...of loving her ...just to protect her and prevent tragedy coming to her. Love is such a kick ass emotion!!!

Of course once the credits started rolling...so did my mind....what if?

I spent the better part of the night playing the What If game...all I can tell you is...no matter how hard you try...when tragedy is written it seems that you cant escape it....except by one way...to never meet the person that causes the tragedy to occur. Well that would be fine and dandy...not ever meeting up with that disgusting monster would have been icing on my cake...I had a life, I had plans that didnt include a future abusive controlling incestuous husband/father...

Only one problem with that scenario...if I didnt meet him...then I wouldnt have the love of 5 beautiful children in my life.

Damn!!! you just cant win this game can you?

We never know what tomorrow might bring do we?

Sorry to any regular readers for lack of posting this past few weeks...personal drama has kept me busy for the most part other than the odd comment on other blogs etc. The adage that we never know what tomorrow has instore for us has never been truer for me then this past few weeks.

After waiting so patiently to leave this little island that has been the bane of my existence for so long...and relishing the freedoms and feelings of release that treading American soil has afforded me for the past two months...due to unforseen circumstances (all though in reality they were not that unforseen..but you always have hope that people will surprise you...they rarely change who they are do they) I find myself once again on the sandy shores of Bahrain.

Quite interesting how only a 2 month "sabbatical" has opened my eyes to even more changes that I hadnt noticed as we quite often cant see the forest for the trees...but thats another post. Suffice to say that the animal masquerading as a man that also pretended to be a father and husband...reared his ugly head against my sons from the moment I shook the dust from my heels and boarded the plane...and so I had no choice but to come and take back what he apparently thought was his right to regain simply because I was gone...I might also add that I received a certain satisfaction to hear the "look" of surprise in his face when he realized I was indeed calling from "this side of the moon"...his excuse for a sister was no less surprised when I showed up at her door with the boys to give her an earful for her little part in all this drama...to say they were left opened mouthed hardly described it...for sure they assumed I wouldnt come back simply because I was clear of this place "once and for all". Just more proof that they have no idea what being a parent means...because it matters little that I truly do not find joy in Bahrain...that I do not feel welcome or content here because the culture and I just do not play well together...I would just as soon forget I ever knew of such a place and be happy with the forgetting...unfortunately...while I cannot stand the fact that I have ties to this place through the blood that courses through my childrens body...it remains a fact that it does indeed course through them...and so I will never truly be rid of Bahrain. Also...because my boys were still here...well hell...the strings that bind can stretch pretty far indeed...but they always pull you back.

So for now...Im back on this little island in the sun...I have some serious ass to kick...and will relish the kicking since those that deserve it...pretty much brought it upon themselves...why couldnt they just leave well enough alone and forget they even knew of my boys...as they had been doing for the last 2 years with exceptional skill and acumen?

At any rate...a regular post will be up as soon as I get situated once again and get some back child support that was some how "mislaid" in the 2 months I was gone...until when these poor excused for human beings (husband and sister in law) will realize that I am not the same "greenhorn" that they always delighted in calling me? Those days are long gone and good riddance to them...but new days are here...let the show begin.

Right here and right now!! pt. 3

The journey ends with us arriving in Mecca. While everyone else was straining at the windows trying to get a look...I was barely aware that we had arrived. I seriously needed to lie down fully stretched out and could think of nothing else I wanted or needed in life but a space large enough to do so. I dont really have any memories of our arrival in Mecca...I was in the middle seat and couldnt really see anything anyhow and it held no interest for me at that moment...I just couldnt bring myself to care that I had arrived in the holiest Muslim spot on the planet...a spot I had dreamed about for years...I just wanted a soft pillow and some quiet.

When we arrived at the hotel the lobby was a madhouse of people and luggage. It turns out our rooms werent ready yet and so all the luggage was piled up in a corner and my fellow bus travelers went off to perform Umrah...I collapsed on a couch in the lobby and Im unable to tell you what went on around me for the next 2 hours. I slept the sleep of the dead...dont ask me about my modesty...its possible something showed that shouldnt have etc...I didnt have the strength to care about such formalities. I discovered later that my son had stayed behind and "kept guard" over me. I also discovered that the cousin (brother to my friend) had also stayed behind to watch over me (as he would do for the remainder of the trip...and still does to this day)...my unofficial brother. He is one of the best men I have ever had the honour of knowing.

As soon as the first room was made available...Kaleefa (unofficial brother) made sure that I was escorted to it...and I crawled into a bed fit for a queen and slept a further 4 hours. My son stayed outside the door. Eventually Kaleefa had my son wake me up and said I needed to perform Umrah before the day was over since that is what I had come for...was in a state of ihram (I believe thats the word) as well as himself and my son. So I prepared myself and Kaleefa led us from the hotel. I anticipated a long walk to the Kabaa but it turns out our hotel was practically in the shadow of the mosque...we stepped out from the hotel and the mosque was right there on the doorstep pretty much. I was pretty shocked to say the least...but had to keep moving as Kaleefa was striding ahead...barely looking back...sigh. My son was helping me along but boy was I exhausted. I was already out of breath and we hadnt even got to the actual mosque yet.

Once we entered the doors (after passing security that made sure we didnt have cameras etc) (which was funny considering so many people were taking pics with their phones) I was amazed at just how long it took to get from the door area to the actual prayer areas and the Kabaa itself. The place was packed with people and Kaleefa was holding himself back Im sure to keep an eye on us...but he was still keeping up a good pace. I barely had time to register the beauty of the mosque and the cosmopolitan atmosphere...I was concentrating on not losing sight of him and not falling down as my abaya was too long and I was too tired to lift my feet properly.

When we finally reached the main area of the mosque that had the Kabaa...I just stood there in awe. To actually be face to face with something I had only ever seen on tv was surreal. People were bumping into me...voices all over the place...birds over head...sun shining...kids crying...you name it...but none of it registered...I was in a state of awe...and wanting to enjoy it to the full. However, Kaleefa had other plans. He handed over a mobile phone to my son...gave us some instructions about how to deal with the crowd...how to perform the Umrah itself...and what to do if we lost sight of him (which was a given of course). He instructed my son not to let go of me under any circumstances...and while I know my son would try his best...I had little hope in all that throng that he would manage it. (I was amazed later that he really did keep hold of me throughout...the multitudes of people seemed to have only one intent..pull us apart)

And off we went...we flowed into the crowd of people and immediately I felt like I had been there before...I felt a sense of deja vu so strong...I stopped in my steps to take it in...but of course you cant stop while circumventing the Kabaa lest you get run over...so on we went.

I cant really tell you much about going round the Kabaa...I was concentrating too hard on not getting trampled by the crowd...I was much slower then most of them as I was plain exhausted. I sort of went into a robotic like mode...one step...one step...one step...while chanting the same words that Muslims through hundreds of years had gathered and chanted as well. I was also trying not to lose track of how many times we had went round the Kabaa...its kind of hard to keep a mental note of that...as every side of the mosque looks pretty much the same...so in a small corner of my mind I also chanted...3...3...3...or whatever circle we were on...and watched for the corner of the Kabaa that had the black stone as a marking spot. It took my son and I nearly 2 hours to do our circumventing...I found out later it took others just under and hour or so. I was tired...did I mention that?

When we finally finished Kaleefa was long gone so we made our way to Marwa and Safwa to begin our 7 trips back and forth. I spent a further hour and some shuffling back and forth between these two spots...trying to keep track and wondering when it would all be over. My son stayed with me for awhile but felt he should be jogging it like so many other men were...so he left me with promises to find me when he was done....sure...ok...whatever (2...2...2...2). The hardest part of that particular trek was that at each end, the spot where you did a Uturn of sorts and headed back the other way...the ground was cemented with little bumpy protrusions. Im assuming so that people could get a grip with the toes and climb up the incline without slipping. What it meant for me and my very swollen sore feet was agony each time I reached one end and had to traverse this spot in order to begin the journey back. (3....ouch.....3....ouch....3.....oh my feet). (later many of the women asked me why I didnt allow my son to push me in a wheelchair like many others...but I felt that as long as I could actually still walk...I would...no matter how long it took)

Finally....I was done...after what seemed to be years of shuffling, counting, agonizing and chanting...I was finished with my first Umrah. My son was nowhere to be seen so I weakly made my way to the side out of the way and waited for him to find me. Oh to get off my feet at last was heaven!!! even if it did take me 5 minutes to actually make my way down to the floor. I felt like I was 100 years old and couldnt imagine a time when I didnt feel like this. (I want my bed and I want it NOW!!!)

My son finally found me and he had Kaleefa with him. They needed to go shave their heads now as a final ritual....which meant I had to get up off the floor. With nothing to lean on to aid me...it was an ordeal all by itself. My knees were grouchy...my ankles were hollering...and my feet had gone off on vacation apparently as Im sure I couldnt feel them. I realize that men are reluctant to touch females that are not related to them in the Muslim world...so I was greatfully surprised when Kaleefa offered me a hand up, which I readily accepted. It still took me some time to gain my feet...and even then I wasnt sure I would stay upright...I was down to my last ounce of strength...and we still needed to get back to the room....OMG!!! OMG!!!! OMG!!!

I did manage to finally make it back to the room...to find my room mates on the way out. Now that Umrah was out of the way...many were excited to start on the second most popular reason for coming to Mecca...Shopping!!! I was happy that the room would be quiet so I could sleep without the constant babble of chatter in the back ground. I crawled back into my lovely sweet smelling soft bed and slept without regaining conciousness until fajr prayer. The ladies were waking me to go down to the mosque for prayers...but my legs just wouldnt hold me properly. I was wiped out. They all left and I struggled to wash and perform my prayers and crawled back into bed once again. Where I would remain for much of the next 5 days.

*to be continued