The last few days I have been suffering with vertigo.

On Thursday I woke up with blurred vision and nauseated and when I went to go to the bathroom I stumbled to it like a drunk. The floor literally felt like it was moving. I thought it would pass so I went back to bed but a few hours later I awoke no differently.

Of course I was thinking at the time this was just a one day occurrence. It would pass I told myself. I’ll rest. I’ll drink more water. I will take a Zofran and eat some protein and I will be fine.

I walked over to my neighbors for some company and coffee and staggered into her kitchen like I had just come off a bender. She joked that my walking across the yard was like a failed sobriety test. I was just glad that I didn’t fall.

Friday was no different. Nausea and unbalanced. My head felt heavy but my day was filled with hope because Dr. Dong Kim’s office called me. This is the man I have faith will help me with all this. This is the man I am going to trust to crack open my skull and get this out of my head. I just hope that it can be done before I lose too much of my normal.

Saturday I woke up and felt like I was on a ship. My arm was numb and my vision blurred. I still had vertigo and my head felt even heavier. I wanted to lay in bed and have a pity party. I’m not gonna lie, I wonder if one morning I will wake up and I will be blind, or worse.

I worry that this is the end of who I know myself to be and to those around me. How will this change me? Will I still be me on the other side of all this?

I don’t feel as smart as I used to be and those close to me see it. My kids see it. I’m slow and I struggle to find my words. I have trouble reading and get over stimulated. I get confused. I’ve gotten lost driving somewhere five minutes from my house. I don’t really trust myself to drive anymore especially if I am alone.

I am trying to think of this as a way of evolving. Into what I am not quite sure.

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The Road Ahead

This week started out poorly. A three day flare of pain that was hard to get on top of. My head felt as if it would explode. It didn’t help that when I called my neurologist and spoke to his nurse that she treated me like I was being a drama queen.

I’m sick of being placated. I’m sick of being told that this growing mass in my head is asymptomatic.

My legs sometimes buckle when I stand. One leg is consistently going numb. And this morning I woke up with vertigo and blurry vision.

I guess this is all imagined.

So I sent an email to Dr. Dong Kim in Houston for my third opinion. I can’t go on living like this. Wondering when I will wake up blind or unable to stand, getting lost in familiar places, and being in excruciating pain.

Hopefully I will hear back from his clinic soon and get an appointment soon.

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Where from here

I’m sick. I’m bringing in 2018 with pneumonia, the same as I did Christmas. This whole year has been marred with sickness, illness and disease. I am over it.

Fuck Cancer.

Fuck unexpected surgeries.

Fuck brain tumors.

Yet I end the year grateful. I am here. I am living and so are those I most enjoy and love.

I have no solid resolutions. My only goal is to zip line which requires certain things I must do – be in shape, lose some weight, and have some stamina.

I just plan to take one day at a time. Do my best. Love. Be grateful. Soak it all in. Try not to worry.

It seems simple enough.

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I miss blogging.

I don’t mean the writing, though I do miss that. I miss what it used to be. There are only a few blocks that I read or check regularly these days and they are all about politics or religion and politics.

I miss the story telling. I miss the reality and the good writing but mostly I miss getting to know people I have never met and following their stories. Right now I watch three vloggers that feel “real” in telling their stories. There is no advertisements. I don’t feel like I am being sold on something. It’s just them sharing their lives.

I miss seeing people being creative. I miss the shitty photos. The not worrying about being politically correct. The sincerity about a product.

When I do read a blog it is more like a one hit kind of deal. I go to read one post, one recipe, and one how to. I don’t know who the author is or even care anymore. I looked at a Blogging conference the other day and hardly recognized anyone.

What happen to the online diarist? Did they all just vanish back to handwritten journal writing? Sell out perhaps? Become bored?

I know it is hard to write these days online and be real. Just words pouring into a vast sea of millions of others who do not care, who are no longer invested but just looking for the newest thing. To have dialogue and comment and connect seems to have left.

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The Beauty of the Storm

All eyes are on Hurricane Irma at the moment and while I have been preparing for a potential landfall I can’t help but notice how perfect of a storm it is. Now the largest and highest rated winds recorded Irma is also beautiful. Powerful. Destructive. The eye of the storm is a cyclone of perfection. And I admit I admire it.

There is beauty in the storm. Both literally and metaphorically.

I am fascinated by nature and her power. I am in awe of the devastation she can cause and how we have no control over it.

It is what it is. No control. It is happening. We cannot stop it even with all our scientific advancements.

Nature wins. She doesn’t care about social class, race, or how much money you have. In her eyes all are equal.

There is no respect for Mother Nature until she is shaking the earth under your feet or barreling towards your house with 175mph winds. We throw litter on the ground and pollute our air and water. We deny our imprint on the planet and scoff at climate change. We believe we have the final say over the forests, the water masses, and all the wildlife but the truth is we do not.

Mother Nature will win. She will either spank us into submission or snuff out our lives or that of future generations. We have taken advantage of all she has had to offer with no thanks or appreciate because money and power is more important. We have taken advantage. We moved forward without considering the long term ramifications. Just because we could doesn’t mean we should.

How many earth quakes and hurricanes and wild fires will it take to humble you?

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Signs of the Times

Joel Osteen is an interesting pastor with a new age, name it and claim it, prosperity gospel. I took his Master Class. I’ve read some of his books. I’ve never once thought of him as a follower of Jesus Christ. You will know them by their what? Love? Fruits? Mansions? Expensive suits?

Jesus, the Gospels, the Old Testament is pretty clear about greed and keeping up with the Jones’. Your reward is in heaven not on earth. What is the root of all evil? MONEY.

Here is my “woo” for you this morning. Here is my “everything happens for a reason”. Here is my Jesus moment for you.

Are you ready to receive this message? Are you prepared to face the splinter in your own eye?

American Christians do not worship Jesus Christ they worship money, power, and otherness. They believe they are special. They adopted the ways of the world in their churches and then claim that their Rock N Roll culture is to reach the masses of the lost. They change the names of their churches to no longer reflect their denominations as to deceive and rebrand and soften their theology instead of changing their hearts or getting their hands dirty when it comes to the poor, down trodden, and who they deem unacceptable. American Evangelicals are so far removed from the teachings of Jesus Christ at this point that they voted for a man who shit upon a gold toilet and is the opposite of every value that Jesus tells us to embrace.

Now, one of the leading evangelical pastors of a Mega Church, who is secure in his mansion as the flood waters rise, refuses to open his millions of dollar church up to the poor, the displaced during a national disaster. Why? To protect the expensive pews? To not soil the bathrooms? For fear of theft and human stink? And not only do these “Christians” refuse to give people refuge, they then lie and say it is flooded at the church.

If our current political situation in this country, our denial of science and sanity, and our failure to take care of the least of these in times of national crisis has not awaken you to the REAL and pervasive problem inside of the church I am not sure what will. The Truth Teller has literally exposed it for all the world to see like an open scourge on Jesus’ back.

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Let Them Fall

In 2002, I had my second son, Jack, who was deemed my miracle baby. We already had two children, one which we adopted because we were told having more biological children would be slim to none. Jack was a dream. He was happy, laid back, an excellent sleeper, and nursed on schedule. I could have not asked for a more pleasant babyhood but shortly after he turned one we discovered he had a host of developmental delays. He could not sit up unassisted. He could not crawl. He did not eat solid foods and he said no words. I was so enthralled with having a good baby and living with the illusion he would eventually catch up that I sorta ignored those milestones he should have been meeting.

At around 15 months old Jack began early intervention. He had physical and occupational therapy twice a week and speech therapy once a week. I remember feeling insecure and embarrassed that some how his delays were a reflection on me. My confidence was under-minded as a parent. I questioned what I could have done differently to have prevented this. While I had missed cues of Jack’s developmental delays his delays were the result of other problems that were not caused by me or any one thing. They just were.

This is not a story about Jack. Well, it sorta is, but it’s more about me and Mr. K and how we had to let go and let things move in a direction that made us uncomfortable and that caused Jack pain. Yes, you read that right, pain.

In the months that followed after Jack’s diagnosis I got to watch my happy and laid back son cry and scream in frustration and physical pain nearly every day. It was gut wrenching. Physical therapy at times was grueling and we did his exercises three times a day like clock work. Occupational and speech therapy some days left me crying in the closet and bumming cigarettes off my neighbor. My sweet baby would cut me sad eyes and sometimes fight through the exercises we had to do.

And people were assholes. How could I? Didn’t Mr. K and I see how painful it was? Could we not see his suffering? Poor Jack. Surely there was another way. A better way. A less painful way.

And then Jack crawled. He crawled on our hard wood floors. He sat up unassisted. He learned to stack blocks and babble sounds and eat baby food. The hard work was paying off. The tears and the screaming were worth it (on both our accounts).

Then it came time for him to learn to walk. The physical therapy was harder. More pain. Harder exercises. More screaming and crying and frustration. And a long with this came more judgment. I had to get tougher. I had to learn to withstand the crying and the screaming and the begging to be picked up rather than learning to pull up on his own or move from place to place by himself.

Scuffed knees, bruises, and one angry toddler who could not toddle. I was called cold and insensitive. One mother said I was ignoring my child’s emotional needs by forcing him. My terse response was that I wanted my son to walk.

And one day, and I remember it like it was yesterday, Jack stood up on his own in the middle of our living room. The look of amazement on his face was a bit of heaven and our best reward after months and months of hard work. We were so happy and he was so happy.

Then he fell.

On his face.

And chipped his front tooth which had gone through his lip.

I rushed to my crying baby and Mr. K grabbed a wet rag but one of the things I said was how proud I was of him. We continued to say how proud we were with beaming smiles. That is right. I wasn’t going to let a busted lip and some blood ruin this profound and monumental moment because I wanted Jack to do it again. I wanted him to stand again. I wanted my soon to be two year old to walk. I didn’t want his or our hard work to stop because of a fall.

We decided to let our son fall and fall often. I pushed the furniture up against walls and I made it harder for him to hang on to things to guide him through the house as he learned to take his first steps. On hardwood and concrete floors. I carried him less and less.

Eventually Jack let go. He walked without falling. He learned to pick himself up over and over again. There was less crying and complaining. Eventually there was no more need for a physical therapist.

Jack remembers none of this. All he has is mine and his father recollection and the chipped tooth that I saved in a small glass jar. Jack went through three more years of speech therapy before he could clearly talk. Today you would never know that he was developmentally delayed or couldn’t string a sentence together well until age 5.

I tell this story to encourage other parents not to shelter their children so much that they hinder them from growing and achieving their full potential. Yes, they are only little once, but with that same token they deserve to have the fullest life possible. And sometimes that means making the tough choices that might involve discomfort and tears.

Parenting is not about taking the easiest route possible. You do your children a disservice when you don’t make them do the hard things, when you shelter them from the bumps, bruises and falls, and create a safety net to fully living.

So, let them fall so that they may rise to their full potential.

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Read the Comments

I am not a big fan of reading the comments on local news because of the vitriol spilled but I have revised my feelings on this. See, it is in the comments that people expose who they really are. It is where somewhat normal people in our lives and in our community expose themselves.

Many conservatives have expressed over the last few days that they are not racists and want no part of these groups that do. Yet they continue to support media – Fox News and Breitbart – that have an alt right, racist agenda. They also say that white supremacy is a small portion of their base which I beg to differ. They have just been quiet, hidden in fear of the moral and social implications of their views being discovered but now they are embolden by the President who espouses not only their views but gives them a platform like Charlottesville. They are feeling Brave in their new found freedom and comment frequently on news articles about politics, local crime stories, and social issues.

The time for us to just pass them off as ignorant or a small fraction of our society is no more. I say now – read the comments, click on their names, look at their Facebook profiles, see if you have mutual friends with them, and see where they work. See what they are saying on Twitter.

Know the enemy in your mist. Know if you are going to church with white supremacists. Avoid patronizing their businesses and inform their employers that you cannot do business with them because they are employing Nazis. This fight against hate and fascism doesn’t have to be fought in the streets. It can be shut down and made to crawl back to which it came through social media and quiet opposition.

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Anchor Me

The last few months I have been unsettled. I've drifted from my goals, my art, and my writing. I just let things go. I've been lazy with my life and I am now sowing weeds so to speak. As much as I would like to be a person who is carefree I am a better person when I am grounded and have purpose.

An empty plate leads me to distraction and laziness and this seems to apply to every area of my life. I can see this trait in my own children as well. They seem to function better when their is organization and purpose to the chaos.

I have started tending to my "house". I have written a list of goals and I am slowly crossing them off. One of them has been seeing to my physical health, something I am bad about neglecting until I can't anymore. By the end of August I will have seen four specialist and had a brain MRI as I try to get to the root of my pain and exhaustion.

And as I get my health on the right path I have been pulling and dragging the children with me. They have become accustomed to their quick fix meals and junk food. I recognized I created this problem.

I've declared Autumn mine. To travel, to challenge myself emotionally and spiritually, to strengthen my faith, and to love those close to me deeply. The last three years of my marriage has been hard on my soul and I need to move forward clear headed and with intent. I want to return to a place where I can say that I am in love and if I can't to move in a different direction.

I am craving to be in the woods. I need the covering of trees and the whispers of the wind. It is my sanctuary. A church in and of itself. A time to soak in through all your senses the Truth Teller.

Grounding does the soul good.

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Silence On Charlottesville Encourages The Alt Right

“We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented. The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference. There may be times when we are powerless to prevent injustice, but there must never be a time when we fail to protest.” ~ Elie Wiesel

The silence of so many Trump supporters is deafening. Others I hear loudly. Today I have seen repeated claims that Charlottesville was a false flag. I have seen Trump Supporters claim that the white supremacists that were there were paid to be there to make him look bad. (here is proof that they were not paid) I have read that the students, clergy, and multitude of people who counter protested were also paid to be there, that they were carrying clubs, and had guns. Of course this is false.

I watched a You Tube video that claims that Heather Heyer purposely stepped in front of the car that killed her and that the driver was being attacked. More distortions of the truth. More distractions. More conspiracy theories. To believe this shit is a choice. It is not an alternative fact, it is a damn lie.

But the last two years have been one lie right after another. When I attended the Trump Rally in Mobile, AL, and later went on the news with the white supremacist paper handed to me as we parked our car I was called a liar. That I had made it up. I was threatened. I was called a liar and a bitch and a nigger lover. People claimed I was not even there even though there was plenty of photographic evidence of me there (including my picture at the rally on al.com).

We have a group of people who are choosing to believe “alternative facts” because to acknowledge the truth would expose flaws in their ego, their moral compass, and their choices. We have tainted free speech with acts of violence and domestic terrorism. And the deflection has already started, pointing fingers at Black Lives Matters and the Women’s March. I have seen conservatives ask why this is considered racism and I cannot even justify that with an answer.

This is Trump’s America. This is the America my children are growing up in.

I can’t even anymore with the denial of white privilege. I don’t want to try and understand your views on why it is okay to shoot black people and not white people who commit the same crimes. I can’t support militarized police officers who are daily beating and killing black people in the streets for petty crimes, planting drugs on Latinos, or tazing pregnant women.

I can no longer excuse your wanton ignorance. There are no more passes. There are no more excuses.

There is only one clear choice to make. Silence is a choice and if you are silent I am going to believe that you have taken the side of the oppressors. I am going to believe that you have chosen hate over love. It is time to speak out against the hate, to take action, and to stomp out these false narratives.

For moral and ethical people there is only one side. One.


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