To Whom it May Concern
The older I get, the more I realize how incredibly patient love is.
I've been in and out of transformative moments this week. I began spring break with picking up my kids from school and then pulling over to the side of the road and puking my guts out. I puked so much and so hard that I thought one of my kids should call 911; I was shaking so much in the after math. I hadn't really eaten that morning so my body was releasing processed food from the day before. I got out of the car and laid on someone's front lawn hoping that the the coolness from the grass would calm my shaking body. I didn't have my bearings. I was scared.
Who do you call when you're scared?
I certainly know not to call a stranger. I don't know all the nurses at Indian Health Center but I know that the majority of them are Natives. I've been in ER twice in my life. Both times I was rushed to Phoenix Indian Hospital. Both times a Native nurse held my hand throughout. To see your kind looking back at you, knowing the historical trauma of your people bridges the gap that removes the word stranger from your connection is incomparable.
I didn't want to go to the hospital specifically because of my kids. We all dislike brick buildings where people go to die. I didn't know if I was going to die or not. Sounds dramatic, I know but life is illusive. Death happens when you least expect it. I could've stumbled the wrong way into the street and been ran over by a speeding car. Morbid but this stuff happens all the time. My reflection isn't meant to be a walk down Morbid Lane.
Nabahe called Nancy, the kids only refer to her as Mom. He won't admit to being scared but he calls her when he's scared. In his phone, she's plugged in as Mom. I'm identified as Judge Daddy. Bahe told her what was going on. She's was there on one of my ER visits because of a migraine so she was familiar. She directed me home. She was on the car audio, all the kids were telling her what stop we were at and whether the light was green or red. There was no trace of fear in her voice. She was in story mode. "Oh, I know where you are, remember when..." The kids were enraptured and calmed by her voice.
We got home in one piece. I took some of my migraine medicine and went into the dark and slept for several hours. Mom had food delivered and texted back and forth with Nabahe while I slept.
On Monday I woke up with the feeling that a migraine was hiding in the tall grass. I opted to stay in. I wear ball caps a lot because I am very sensitive to the light. Too much light can trigger a migraine. I learned that word "trigger" from my doctor. When you get a certain age, it doesn't really matter how healthy you think you are, it matters what triggers are present in your environment. Learning my triggers became imperative to staying in the game. I allow myself plenty of room to switch things up if I think a trigger is hiding. I stayed in and the kids supported me. Well, sort of, they tore the house up but they weren't whining about not spending the day outside.
Tonight, I am accompanying a dear friend of mine to a battle of wits and words. She recently lost her mother. I haven't even spoken to her about it yet. I don't know that I will yet I feel the umbilical cord of pain. I'm not an attachment expert but I hope my kids don't lose me before they grow up. I'm everything to them, as it should be. I don't live my life through them but they are also everything to me. I can't see life without seeing them in it. I don't consider myself a sappy parent but I thank God every day for entrusting me with them. I think life falls short in many ways. Racism has become part of our culture. We have children shooting holes in other children. The number of folks without homes is growing and we continue to turn our music up and look into our phones for distraction so we don't see the reality of greed. We live life separated from the true beauty of heartache because we're bootstrapped to drugs and alcohol. We can't handle life on life's terms. I used to drink. I know first hand how alcohol blurs every perception. I'm so thankful my kids don't know that gal that thought life was in the bottle.
Grief.
Unprocessed grief is everywhere. The unforgettable lesson of the pandemic is that we all need each other. We all have resources that we won't tap into unless we absolutely have to. We haven't recovered. I see it everyday. I don't know if we will recover. I still don't know the names of my neighbors. During the pandemic, I fantasized about how I would go out and introduce myself and rejoice that we got through it, if we got through it. I knew several people who didn't make it. I was shocked when a law school friend who was hospitalized, fighting for her life one day and then thanking friends for all the prayers and support the next. Two days later she died because Covid-19 had done too much internal damage. I'm not sure if we have officially gotten through it. I still see masks. I still get my kids and I the boosters. I still haven't ran into the arms of my neighbors.
Love is patient.
We need a lot of love to walk through life. People change. Life changes us. Writers use the phrase "the trick is..." but the truth is that there is no trick. There is just showing up. Naked, vulnerable and open is the best way to get through whatever life throws your way. It took me over thirty years to figure that out. Lots of broken relationships. I don't want to be unclear, a lot of shattered relationships. I've been blessed with the ability to convey my thoughts in writing. I can't talk openly to you like this. The thought of it makes my knees buckle.
I'm learning to love better because of the grace of my kids. They say some big stuff to me and I kinda just cry. I wish I knew my heart as well as a kid as they do. They write me love notes. They'll hide them and I find them and I kinda just cry. I'm able to relate to other adults because of my kids. My kids are the raw version of what every adult is trying to be. We think big houses, flashy cars and clothes are how we communicate this one simple thing: I want you to notice me, maybe even like me. I want connection. I need connection.
There is inherent vulnerability in each of us, in all of us. That is how we are wired. If you think you're gonna impress someone with superficial stuff, you've been scammed. The flip side is also true. If you're someone who is impressed with superficial stuff, you've been scammed.
I know a lot of you think prayer is a scam but it works. I'm where I am in life basically because of prayer. That's the absolute truth. My kids know I can't dance but I can pray. I don't even want to try and talk a big game because none of what I have is because of me. Gifts are all God showing up in my life. God has always used the broken and rejected. I don't seem like that now but few of you know my history. That will be available in print at some point.
Maybe start out with this simple prayer: God help me to stop being scammed into believing love is anything outside of me.
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