Not Another Abortion Story

 

Trigger Warning!

I am about to reveal very personal information about myself that might be uncomfortable for you to know about me. If you can’t handle it stop reading now!

I used to not share this information with folks because I was ashamed. Now, I don’t share it because it makes people uncomfortable.

 

Not Another Abortion Story

 

I just turned 17, when I found out I was pregnant with my daughter. I loved her from the moment I knew she was growing inside me. My father and stepmother were not so happy. I told my stepmother in the car, she was so shocked, she stopped the car in the middle of the highway. We drove home in silence. She flung open the door and screamed at my father, “YOUR DAUGHTER IS PREGNANT.”

After a cigarette my father declared I would get an abortion. He was worried about the shame I would bring to the family. He didn’t want people to find out his daughter was “whore.”

The next week was a blur of frenzied activities. I refused to go to the doctor because I was afraid, he would pay off a doctor to give me an abortion. I got in contact with pro-life attorneys, and they made sure my father knew he was being watched. I was given an ultimatum, end my pregnancy or get out of my father’s house.

It wasn’t a hard choice. I loved my baby. I would do anything for her. Even at 17, I understood some of what my decision would mean. I was giving up a privileged life. One with horses, horseback riding lessons, fancy vacations, opportunities for amazing international boarding high schools, and flying lessons. I knew my daughter’s life would be very different than mine, but I also knew that she would grow up with all my love.

I fought hard to keep my daughter. I gave up that life of privilege and my family. It was more than worth it. I loved being pregnant. I love being a mom. I love being Susan’s mom. I wish I could have given her an easier life, one where money wasn’t an issue, but I absolutely did the right thing.  If I knew now what I knew then I would make the same choice a million times over.

Pro-life folks are probably thinking this a great story! Look at the outcome! Pro-choice folks are also thinking this is a great story, a 17-year-old who fought to make a choice for her body!

When people ask about why I didn’t have a relationship with my father, this is the story I tell them. It doesn’t make people uncomfortable. They cheer me on. Sometimes, they tell me I should forgive him and I just shrug and change the topic.

I won the right to govern my body in that story. In this next story, I didn’t get to choose what happened to body. It did end happy.

Fast forward to 4 years after I gave birth to that perfect baby girl. My father, stepmom, and siblings were living in China. I talked to them maybe once month. I was 21 years old. I was the youngest retail manger at the portrait company where I worked. I worked crazy hours. I was proud of myself for not becoming the “white trailer trash welfare queen” that my father said I would become. I wasn’t able to provide for my daughter in the same ways my father provided for me, but I was providing for her and always giving her all my love. I was happy.

My father called and told me he was flying to the states to buy a helicopter for a client. He would be Tennessee mostly but wanted to know if I could spend the weekend with him in Indiana. I was excited to see him. It wasn’t that long ago, that I was “daddy’s little girl.” We talked about dinners, places we would shop, and all the fun we would have hanging out, the three of us. He said he couldn’t wait to get to know his granddaughter and spoil us both.

I rearranged my work schedule, picked outfits for me and my daughter to wear that weekend, and thought about the possibilities of what it meant to have my father in my life again. Maybe he would help pay for college? Maybe we could go visit them in China? Maybe I would be allowed to talk to my brother and sister again?

He was late getting in the first night. It didn’t matter because Susan was at her father’s house until the next morning. I told him I didn’t care what time he landed, I wanted to see him right away. Around 10pm, he called to say he finally made. He picked me up. Because it was so late, he decided we should just go to his hotel room and order room service.

I chatted nervously about my life, and he gave me updates on my stepmom and siblings on the drive there.

All the pleasantries ended when we got into the hotel room. In that room, he wanted to make it clear that my body was his and he would do whatever he wanted to it. I was raped. My father, the person who spent 17 years raising me, raped me.

I escaped that early morning with just some of my clothes. I called my boyfriend at the time to pick me up. I couldn’t even tell him what happened but somehow, he knew.

My father tried to call me the next day to sort things out. My stepmom called me, angry. “How could you have sex with my husband,” she spit into the telephone.

I shut down. I ignored that it happened. It was weeks later when I realized that my period was late. At the same time, I knew without a doubt that if I was pregnant, I would kill the cancerous cells growing in my womb.

You just read one of my most personal truths. Most of you probably wish you didn’t know something so personal about me. But that is just it, abortion is personal. I keep seeing folks debating on the laws around abortion.

“I can agree to abortions for life saving measures or in the cases of rape.” It took me 25 years to tell you I was raped. Do you really think, everyone can utter the words to their doctor or police just weeks after it happened?

“There is a statistic that 75% of women who had an abortion didn’t want one. This clearly shows that for most women it isn’t their choice.” Okay Karen, I didn’t want my wisdom teeth pulled either, but I still had that medical procedure done and no one forced me.

Abortions are a personal medical procedure. Your religion, your ethics, your thoughts don’t get to govern other people’s bodies.

We should trust folks to decide what is best for their bodies. There should not be a debate about when a woman gets to choose to have a medical procedure.

If you are against abortions fight for better medical care, fight for paid maternity leave, fight for fair housing, fight for childcare, fight to end hunger, fight to end poverty, fight for tougher rape laws- all of these things are proven to lower abortion rates.

Don’t fight against my ability to choose what is best for me.

Trauma

Trauma.

My body’s way of dealing with trauma is to shut down, block it out, get sick, ignore it, or move on. Not this time. This time my body said no more. I will not hold you together. I will not give you something you can blame on me. I can’t hold all the evil inside. I can’t give you a way out. I am no longer strong enough.

I collapsed into a puddle of tears, leaving my wife to pick up all the pieces. She text my boss from my phone to let her know I won’t make it to work. She finds a doctor. She walks me there. I haven’t stopped crying for three days. The doctor agrees with my wife on leave of absence. A plan is put in place. Medicine is prescribed.

I am horrified.

It takes me forever to do anything. I make a plan everyday on things I will accomplish. It never works out. I spend hours in silence. Get up I say to myself over and over. Just get in the shower. When I finally make it to the shower, I turn the water on so hot that my skin is bright red. I like the feeling. I stand there until the tabby cat comes in and meows obnoxiously. I put on the same dirty clothes and go back to sitting couch.

I try to block out the world. I try to forget the evil. I try to forget the trauma that my body refuses to hold for me. I have memories that play over and over in my head. I sit. I tell myself to get up, do something but I sit.

My body aches and my soul feels broken.

I worry. I worry about work. What will I tell my coworkers? My students? I worry about going anywhere. What if this happens again? What if I am out and all the sudden can’t move? I worry that my life has changed forever.

I wonder why the memories that play over and over again, don’t seem that traumatic in all of the trauma in my life. I wonder why my body refuses to hold me together. I wonder why I can’t just get up.

I cry. I cry for myself. I cry for the little girl I never got be. I cry for the adult that just kept on taking the punches the world threw at me. I cry for my wife.

If there was an answering machine for my body it would say, “You have reached Kim’s body. She isn’t here right now. If this is an emergency please call her wife.” For almost two weeks now she has taken care of every part of my life. I try to be grateful for having a safe and loving place to fall apart but it’s hard to feel gratitude through the pain.

I sit on the couch. I am scared. I am in pain. I cry. I worry. I feel. I feel too much. The feelings are holding me hostage. They won’t let me ignore them. 

Susan Ashley

I fell in love with my daughter when she was growing inside me. I couldn’t believe I could love so much. I was seventeen. I was kicked out of my father’s house. I had no money. I had very few possessions. As I was leaving my dad’s house he mumbled something like, “You are white trash. You will never finish high school. You will live off welfare and if you’re lucky you’ll end up in a nasty trailer park. Your baby will be just like you. It’ll have nothing and it will be your fault.”

I moved to Missouri in a small town, where my mother lived. My daughter’s father followed a month later. I was taking a home economics class. In this class, I learned that statistically my father was right. I probably wouldn’t finish High school. I would probably live on welfare and my baby, still growing inside me didn’t have much of a chance.

I moved back to Indiana. I was 8 ½ months pregnant. All of our belongings fit in a two door car. We moved into a very small one-bedroom apartment.

I gave birth to a beautiful, healthy daughter on July 10, 1993. When she was just hours old, I started crying because I knew that I already screwed up her life.

She started her life sleeping in a laundry basket. I married and divorced her father before she was 2. We moved six times before she was 5.  

I did some things right. I got my GED. I worked hard as a photographer. I read to her every night. (I love statistics and I read that reading to your child improved their chances academically.) There was always plenty of food and books in our home.

I got a lot wrong. Our power and phone were shut off more times than I care to remember. We were homeless for a short period.

I read another statistic that said the more college a mother has the more chances her child has at going to college. I enrolled. Susan was in middle school.

Some mothers dream of the day their daughter gets married, not me. I have always dreamt of the day that my daughter beat the statistics, despite me screwing up her life before she was even born. I’ve dreamt of the day she would graduate from college.

I love statistics but I knew I wasn’t raising a statistic. My daughter has proven over and over again that she can accomplish anything. She continues to rise above everyone’s expectation.

She graduates from college in a week and half!!!! I can’t begin to explain my joy and excitement. I am so proud of her.  I feel incredibly honored to be her mother. She is graduating with a degree in marketing and a minor in public relations. Did I mention she is graduating debt free? She is also getting paid to get her master’s degree.

Statistics

41 percent of young adults with LD complete post-secondary education within eight years of leaving high school, as compared to 52 percent of young adults without LD.

Children of teen mothers perform worse on many measures of school readiness, are 50 percent more likely to repeat a grade, and are more likely than children born to older mothers to drop out of high school.

Many children born to teen moms have behavioral problems, juvenile delinquency and conflict with authority.

Two-thirds of families begun by a young unmarried mother are poor. More than half of all mothers on welfare had their first child as a teenager.

Daughters of teen moms are three times more likely to become teenage mothers themselves.

Fat, Again

I am fat, again. It is so difficult to be back here. I promised myself when I started this blog that I would get below 200 pounds and never return to the 200s again. I promised myself that I would treat my body with the respect it deserved by exercising and eating healthy. I promised myself that I would work on my emotional crap by painting, running, and being more open with those around me.

I lied but I also felt that I was told a lie. I did everything I was supposed to do and it felt amazing. Then I was betrayed by own body, at least that’s how it felt.

It started over three years ago. I had a crazy pain caused by a rather large gallbladder stone. After surgery this happened, http://speakingaboutthat.blogspot.com/2013/04/tw-trigger-warning.html . I ate and ate some more but I also tried to cope with the memories in all the new positive ways I taught myself. I started getting depressed and crying all the time. I started screwing things up and forgetting to do really important things.

I ran my second marathon. (I was still trying.)

I ate.

Running became a challenge because I couldn’t feel my left side of my body. I started getting migraines and I was exhausted all the time.

My b12 and vitamin D levels were “dangerously low.” I was given vitamin supplements and b12 shots. I felt better but still exhausted.

I ran a half marathon (still trying). Had another surgery to repair the giant hole the first surgery left in my stomach muscles.

I ate.

I was tired.

I went work, ate, and slept. I had no energy.

Summer break, I slept, a lot.

My father died. I was grateful, numb, confused, and angry. I called my step mom to give her my condolences. She asked me how much I weighed. I had not talked to her in years and this was the question she asked.

I ate.

I slept.

I couldn’t figure out why I couldn’t do more. Why I couldn’t just get up and start running? Why I was hungry all the time? Why I was always exhausted and in pain? Why wasn’t I coping with my life anymore?

I went to a new doctor. He ran some new blood test. My iron was low, as was my B12 and D despite being on heavy doses of supplements. He also discovered that I wasn’t absorbing protein. He suggested that I stop eating gluten.

Two weeks after that I started feeling better.

It’s been two months since giving up gluten. I am not as hungry all the time. I am only sleeping 8 hours. I have a little bit more pep in my step. I am still not running but I have hope. I have so much hope that I signed up for a race April 2.

I am still fat but I am starting not to hate my body or myself for the extra fluff. My body and I went through and SURVIVED a lot these past few years. The fluff is my armor. It is my emotional crap and my bodies cry for nutrition. I hope I can start down a healthier road. I also hope when I look in the mirror it’s not with disgust with how I let myself go but instead with awe of how I survived.

Nana's Cookbook and the Kelley Thanksgiving

The beautiful china cabinet, dinning room table, china, elegant crystal and silver moved in at the same time as Lavender. These things didn't exactly fit the other things that moved in with her like the hockey stick coat rack.

These things, like almost everything Lavender owns, have sentimental value. They belonged to her Nana (grandma). In the past seven years, through the stories that Lavender's told, letters that were written from Lavender's grandfather when he was in the war, pictures, and a handwritten cookbook, I have learned a lot about the woman that was raised during the depression with 13 siblings, fell in love and stayed in love to the same man until she died years after him, fought for the rights of her disabled son to obtain a public education, and raised her granddaughter when her own daughter wasn't capable.

I wear her engagement ring. Lavender gave it to me at our "making it legal ceremony." It reminds me how powerful love can be and how much love can do. It reminds me to take care of my marriage and all the people I love.

Lavender and I don't have traditional holidays. We sometimes come close to what resembles how others celebrate. We sometimes do that "thing we usually do." We are a family that loves to celebrate so we ALWAYS celebrate.

This year for Thanksgiving we have three couch surfers staying with us, whom we have never met. We know that they are Atheist, Orthodox Christian, and Muslim. They come from all over the world. Of course Susan will be joining us. She is bringing her roommate from Twain and her boyfriend.  Our friends who fall into that category of "things we usually do" will be joining us for the 7th year. Our neighbor Mike who usually partakes in all of our family celebrations will be there. My cousin and his girlfriend, who live in Arizona and are more people we have never met, will hopefully be joining us too. This isn't the final list, at least I hope not. I hope we also have the usual "mind if we stop by" "can so and so also come" "is there room for me?" or the "we haven't seen so and so in forever so lets see if they can make it." This year we are celebrating on Friday after Thanksgiving, just in case you want to stop by.

We will celebrate the diversity of people. We will give thanks for the gift of being able to host and feed others. We will be thankful for the way that food and drink can bring together people. We will be grateful that the people who choose to come into our lives don't just tolerate each others religions, political views, gender, sexuality, education, and careers but celebrate these things and honor them.

This year, we will do this by gathering around Lavender's Nana's table and eating the recipes that she lovingly hand wrote. Recipes that she made to share with people she wanted to comfort, bring joy, or just feed in times of need. There are notes written next to some of these recipes like "My favorite" "Johns Favorite" and "Feeds 18." Food is an amazing gift and meant to be shared. I look forward to cooking with Nana on Thanksgiving and many more times. Out of all the meaningful gifts she left behind, this cookbook is my favorite. Sharing food is always an act of love for me.

Nana's Recipes that are being used for Thanksgiving 2015

Holiday Cheese Ball
6oz of smoked or chipped beef, diced fine
2 packages of cream cheese
8oz sharp cheddar cheese, grated
2tbsp. Worcestershire Sauce
1/4 cup  pickle relish
1/8 tsp of Tabasco sauce
1/4 tsp onion salt
dash of white pepper

Cream all ingredients together. Be sure they are mixed well. Form into ball and roll in chopped parsley or grated pecans. Serve with crackers.

Dinner Rolls
1 package of active dry yeast
1/4 cup of warm water
1 cup of boiling water
1/3 cup of butter
3 tbsp. sugar
1 tsp salt
1/2 cup of dry milk
3 1/2 to 4 cups of flour
1 egg

Soften yeast in 1/4 cup of warm water. Combine boiling water, butter, sugar, and salt. Cool to luke warm and add yeast mixture. Stir in beaten egg. Add dry milk. Beat in as much flour as possible and then continue to add enough to make soft dough, kneading 8 to 10 minutes. Put in a large bowl that has been oiled, turning dough to coat it all over. Cover and let rise in a warm place (85 degrees) until doubles, about 1 to 1 1/2 hours. Form dough into rolls. Brush top with butter. Fold in half to make parker rolls. Place on greased cookie sheet. Brush with melted butter. Let rise in warm place, until doubled, about 30 to 40 minutes. Bake at 375 for 15 to 20 minutes or until golden brown. Yields about 2 dozen.

Shoepeg Corn Salad

1 cup chopped celery
5 green onions chopped and the tops
1 green pepper
1 *can of corn
1 *can of party peas (I am not sure what part peas are but I am using frozen petite peas)
1 *can of French green beans
I medium jar of pimento (drain)
1/2 cup of oil
1 tsp of salt
3/4 cup vinegar
1 cup of sugar

Mix it all up.
*I am using frozen vegetables just because I prefer the taste of them to canned.

Cranberry Salad

1 pound of crushed cranberries
2 small boxes of strawberry jello
1 2oz can of crushed pineapple juice, do not drain
2 cups of sugar
2 cups of boiling water
crushed pecans

Mix and refrigerate

Nep's Dressing (Nep was the neighbor across the street)
First make the bread for dressing

1 cup of corn meal
1/2 cup of flour
2 eggs
1 cup of milk
1/2 cup of butter
1 cup of celery
1 cup chopped onions
1/2 tbsp. of sugar
1/2 tbsp. of tabasco sauce

Sorry, folks there is no directions here. I am guessing your mixing and  baking at 350 for 30-45 minutes.

Next
Corn Bread in pieces
12 slices of bread in pieces
1 cup of milk
1/2 cup of half and half
4 eggs
2 cups of broth
1 tsp of lemon pepper
1 tbsp. of chicken bouillon
1 tbsp. of poultry seasoning

Again no directions. I am guessing you mix wet ingredients toss in dry and bake 350 for 30-45 minutes.

Harvest Potatoes

32 oz frozen hash brown  potatoes, thawed
1 can condensed cream of soup
1 cup of sour cream
2 cups shredded cheddar cheese
1/2 cup butter
1 1/2 tsp salt
1 medium onion diced

Topping
2 cups cornflakes crushed
1/4 cup of butter melted

Grease 13x9 baking dish. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In large bowl combine all ingredients except for topping. Spoon into baking dish. In small bowl combine topping ingredients. Sprinkle over potatoes. Bake 45 minutes or until bubbly.

Asparagus Casserole
3/4 pound grated cheese
10 or 12 crackers crushed
2 *cans of asparagus spears
slivered almonds
2 cans of cream of mushroom soup
1 stick of butter
1/4 cup of sweet milk

Mix grated cheese and cracker crumbs. Place half of the mixture on the bottom of a long Pyrex dish. Drain asparagus spears and arrange on crumb mixture. Sprinkle with almonds. Pour mushroom soup over this. Cut butter over this. Add remaining cheese and crumb mixture. Add the 1/4 cup of sweet milk. Bake at 400 degrees for about 45 minutes.
* I am using frozen asparagus. Canned asparagus is gross, according to Lavender.

Broccoli Casserole *This is something that often gets served at holidays because Susan and Lavender love it.

2 packages frozen broccoli
1 can mushroom soup
1 cup cheddar cheese grated
1 egg well beaten
1 cup mayonnaise (not salad dressing)
1 cup cheese cracker crumbs
salt and pepper
Combine other ingredients saving 1/2 cup of  cheese crackers. Combine with broccoli and spoon into a greased pan. Top with remaining crackers.  Bake in a 400 degree oven for 20 minutes.

Cocoa Cake (This cake recipe is on the first page and is marked "My Favorite Cake.")

1 cup boiling water
1 stick of butter
1/2 cup of cooking oil
4 tbsp. cocoa
2 cups sugar
2 cups flour
2 eggs
1/4 cup of buttermilk
1 tsp of soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp vanilla

Combine water, butter, oil, cocoa heat until blended. Pour over sugar, flour, and eggs. Beat well. Add buttermilk, soda salt, and vanilla. Beat well. Pour into a greased 9X12 pan. Bake at 400 degrees for 20 minutes.

Topping
1 stick of butter
6 tbsp. of buttermilk
4 tbsp. of cocoa
1 box of powdered sugar

Combine butter, milk and cocoa. Bring to boil. Add powdered sugar. Pour over hot cake.

Mamie's Pumpkin Pie *I did an internet search and found some recipes similar to this with credit to Mamie Eisenhower. I am not sure because the recipes are not exact but I think the Mamie could be referring to First Lady Eisenhower.

3 egg yolks
3/4 cups brown sugar
1 1/2 cups pumpkin
1 cup of canned milk
1/2 tsp salt
1 package of plain gelatin
1/4 cup of water
3 egg whites, beaten
1 tbsp. pumpkin pie spice
1/4 cup of powder sugar
Pie crust

Cook egg yolks, brown sugar, pumpkin and milk in a double broiler. Dissolve gelatin in water with pumpkin spice. Cool. Then fold in egg whites and powdered sugar. Spoon into a  baked pie crust.

Easy Pecan Pie

1/3 cup of butter
1 cup of sugar
1 cup of light corn syrup
1/2 tsp salt
2 tsp vanilla
4 eggs
 1 cup of coarsely chopped pecans (The side note says, "I add a little more."
1 unbaked pie shell

Combine butter, sugar, corn syrup, salt, and vanilla beat well. Add eggs beat well. Stir in pecans. Pour into pastry shell. Bake at 375 for 45 to 50 minutes.

What I Wanted Vs What I Needed

I wanted a cat that would cuddle me all night long, even if it meant sleeping in uncomfortable positions. I wanted a cat that would convince me lying in bed for five more minutes was a good idea. (This is after of course I woke up at 5 a.m. to feed him.) I wanted a cat that would lay next to me while I lazily watched movies. I wanted a cat that would purr while I explained my hard day. I wanted a cat that always liked being petted.

Enter Flanker an incredibly handsome black cat. He could care less about petting. Waking up at 5 a.m. is necessary but going back to bed is just plain silly. It’s time to play. If his humans try going back to bed he brings them his toys and if that doesn’t work he zooms around the bed. There isn’t enough time for petting when you are trying to catch the red dot, attack an inanimate object that mocked you, steal things off the desk that really should be yours, run around the house, climb on everything, and kill the very dangerous fly. He doesn’t have time to listen to problems or cuddle on the couch. Moments matter and every moment needs to be spent playing, eating, or dreaming about playing. Sleeping with humans is a bad idea, after all he might miss something in the outside world if he didn’t sleep in his chair by the window.

The cat that I got gets me out bed, helps me view the world in wonder and play, and makes me laugh multiple times a day.

Moments Matter

I have a huge extended family on my mother’s side but I didn’t get to see them much. The moments that I have had with each of them touched me in ways that took the good parts of me and made them better, more loving, and more understanding.

I wrote a letter to my uncle several years ago because I wanted to try to express the importance of one moment he shared with me long ago. Saturday he passed away. I am grateful that I had the chance to tell him just how important this one moment we shared was in my life.

I try to remember that moments matter. You never know what small gesture you can do for someone that will give them the strength to continue.

Dear Uncle Stephen,

I have been writing this letter in my head for over a year now. Each time I start, the words just don’t seem to be there to explain how very important you have been to me. Then I found out that you are not in good health. This information makes me struggle even more with what and how I want to say this to you because I want to make sure that you know this is from  I want to make sure that you know this is from my heart and always has been and not something that has come to be because of your health. 

Some time ago, maybe 17 years ago? I was sitting on the couch at Grandma and Grandpa’s. You came and sat next to me. You put your arms around me and just held me. It and just held me. It was the first time I can remember being embraced by someone who wanted nothing from me. You were just you that night but I didn’t know that I could be worthy of such love in a physical and emotional way. I believe that we experience God through the connections we make and that day I saw God in you. 

I had bad things happen to before that moment and bad things happen after that moment but somehow that moment gave me a promise of what life could be like. It was times in my life when I was in my lowest that I pulled up the memory of that one night and used it to get me through. It gave me hope and showed me that I could be loved.

The connections and impact we make in life live long after us. That moment in time will continue to live on in the daughter that I raised, the friends that I have helped, and the inner city school children that I will soon be teaching because I know how important it is to just sit next to someone and  love them. I know what a difference that can make. One of my most important life lessons I learned from you. Thank you for the difference you made in my life.

Love Always,

Kim

Integrity or Scores: I Choose Integrity

My students are not standard. They don't learn at the same rate. Some of them are brilliant but not book smart. Some have a high IQ but I worry that they will never find a job.

At this time of every year anxiety is up. Teachers stress, parents stress, and students stress as we prepare to take the standardized state tests. It's how I will be evaluated as a teacher, how my school is evaluated, and it can determine the classes my students will or will not be allowed to take.

I hate this test. I hate how much focus goes into this test. This test does not examine the important part of my job. I sew buttons, put on band aids, provide food, give out pencils, and buy the occasional uniforms. I have listened to two different students describe how their mother was shot in front of them. I held a student that was crying while describing how he felt while he was being raped in jail. I have students that do odd jobs for money to keep their electricity on and ones that raise younger siblings because mom works several jobs. I have students that have been abused and neglected by their families and the system. I have students that read at a third grade level but better than anyone else in the house so it's their job to try and navigate the bills and our messed up welfare system. After I give them the attention, the love, safety and respect they deserve and have earned, I teach math and reading.

Fuck standardized testing. It will never tell the true stories of the AMAZING individuals I have the privilege of knowing. It will not show their life skills, their true academic growth, or their perseverance. I will never understand how the government thinks one test can grade the work my students and I do everyday.

Below is an essay one of my students wrote. If I am to be graded on just one thing, let it be this.

The school that I was at before was not trying to teach me anything because I was in a special education class because I have learning disability. The teacher treated me like I was dumb and could not learn. I didn’t do reading and in math I was doing work way below my grade level.

I came to school my 7^th grade. My reading level was at first grade and my math was at fourth grade level. I had some anger and behavior problems. I couldn’t read and so I made sure that teachers did not bother me by acting up. So that made me a little sad.

Watching my teachers reach out even though I acted up is the best model of integrity I’ve seen. They told me exactly where I was at and where I needed to be at the end of the year. My teachers treated me with respect showing me how to act with respect.

Applying myself has shown me the gift of perseverance. I tried to read but it was hard. I didn’t give up. Now I’m willing to read out loud in class. I have the wisdom to think clearly about my gift and behaviors. So now I’m above grade in math and improving my reading every day. Deeper understanding gives me self-control. I improved my behaviors a lot.  

I have compassion because I know how it feels to want to do something but don’t know how to do it. I’m writing this to encourage others. I want them to have confidence in themselves.

Letting my guard down took a lot of courage for me. I can be more for myself and my family and that is why I’m grateful to my teachers.       

Loving

A month ago, I attended a wedding that Lavender was officiating. Imagine two doctors getting married in a Chicago Downtown art museum and all the pretty and beautiful things that means.

I didn’t know the brides. I did not know anyone there. I was just the minister’s wife. My job was to smile, eat, and drink. I would not be emotional at this wedding ceremony. I had no reason.

It was a beautiful ceremony. Lavender did a great job. The brides were both gorgeous. They said heartfelt words to each other. Friends, family, and their teenage son surrounded them. I didn’t cry.

I mean I almost didn’t cry. At the end of the ceremony, Lavender said, “by the power invested in me by the state of Illinois, I pronounce you wed for life.” I cried.

Lavender and I had been talking about making our marriage legal for legal reasons. When we had a ceremony 5 years ago, it was not legal in Illinois where we married or in Indiana where we were living. It was upsetting that we were not going to be granted the same legal protection and rights as others but we made the best of it with legal documentation like powers of attorney and me changing my last name through the courts. I didn’t imagine at that time that we would be living in a world where we would have a chance to see our marriage ‘legal.’ (It’s kinda funny to think about your marriage being illegal.)

Anyway, when we were talking about making it legal, I thought about it as it just being paperwork. No biggie. We had the ceremony, it was the wedding of our dreams. We both agreed that we would do something. Maybe get a bite to eat after filling out the paperwork. Just to mark the occasion.

Then I was at this wedding hearing those words that could not be said at our wedding. I cried knowing all the sacrifices other couples made to make this happen. The couples that couldn’t be with each other ‘during sickness’ because they weren’t legally married. The families split up because a spouse died and children were not allowed to live with only other parent they knew. I thought about last year when Lavender had a medical scare and I realized that I would not be able to use the Family Medical Leave Act to help her in any worse case scenarios.

I thought about Mildred Loving who was arrested for marrying a white man and living in Virginia. They won their court case Loving v. Virginia. She and her husband paved the way for discrimination laws against marriage.

“I believe all Americans, no matter their race, no matter their sex, no matter their sexual orientation, should have that same freedom to marry... I am still not a political person, but I am proud that Richard's and my name is on a court case that can help reinforce the love, the commitment, the fairness and the family that so many people, black or white, young or old, gay or straight, seek in life. I support the freedom to marry for all. That's what Loving, and loving, are all about.” –Mildred Loving

Making it legal will not change my marriage, my love, or what my family means to me. It will give certain rights that straight white couples have always enjoyed.

I can’t wait for out “Making it Legal, Hangover Edition”celebration January 1, 2015! I promise to cry when Erin says those magic words. I also promise to thank all those who fought so hard to make this day happen!

mY CrAzy hEaLtH and Amazing Support Sytem

This year I have had some scary health problems. I am okay. It turns out that most of my problems relate to deficiencies in vitamin D and B12. According to doctors, dangerously low and life threatening levels. I know it sounds crazy that these two vitamins can cause so many problems but look it up, it is crazy. The lack of B12 caused strange sensations, numbness, & tingling in my hands, legs, & feet. I’ve had difficulty walking (staggering, balance problems), difficulty thinking and reasoning (at times severe cognitive difficulties), and memory loss. The two together caused extreme fatigue and aided in my depression. They can even cause cardiac and respiratory failure. You know that old saying about “having a nervous breakdown”? It’s literally the breaking down of my complete nervous system. Two times this year I have been in the ER room because of headaches. Headaches so severe, that they caused me to have vision problems, incoherent speech, and difficulties walking. My neurologist believes these migraines came from the stress my body was going through. Even with ongoing treatment, it will be 6 months or more before most of the symptoms will be gone.

It has been a rough 8 months. I am lucky to be able to surround myself with amazing people. Even though I have not been very forth coming with friends (because it’s really hard to explain to people what’s going on when you have no clue) but even so I have felt their support. From text messages and phone calls of friends asking if there was anything that they could do to outstanding coworkers getting me through the school year, I’ve experienced incredible support.

                                                           

Lavender has advocated for me through all of this. I am not sure they would have found out what was wrong with me without her persistence. She found a new doctor for me when my old doctor had reached a dead end. She became my voice when I was unable to communicate. She made my mornings easier when I was so tired I wasn’t sure if I could crawl out of bed. She helped me with my work when I was incapable of performing certain task. Most importantly, she held me in the darkest and scariest moments.  

My surprise through all of this is my daughter. Now in case you didn’t know she is amazing. I am so proud her. She has flourished in school. She works, volunteers, cheerleads, and is active in several clubs. She does it while maintaining a high GPA.

In the middle of all of this crazy health stuff, I screwed up and didn’t turn in some paper work in time. It cost her her most important scholarship. I was devastated because so far, she had made it through school with no debt and was on course to graduate debt free.

She was not mad or even upset. Instead, she applied and got job that allowed her to live on campus, free. She applied for several other scholarships to help replace the one I lost. She stepped up in ways that I would not have even known how to ask her to do. She starts her junior year this year and she is still on course to graduate debt free. She has even figured out how she is going to obtain her masters debt free.

Back to my amazing wife for a second, Lavender after much paper work was able to get Susan back the scholarship I thought was lost forever.

I am grateful to be surrounded by supportive, loving, ingenuitive, people.

 Here’s to better health!

Growing

It's been over a month since my last post. I wish I could tell you that everything is fine and back to normal but we all know that life takes work. I did go to the doctor. She diagnosed me with situational depression (big surprise). I also found out that my left thyroid is enlarged and my vitamin D was virtually nonexistent. I am on a low dose of wellbutrin and a heavy dose of vitamin D. Wellbutrin is not a magical happy pill but I am starting to feel normal.

I was running more but this week I am sick. Instead of feeling like my life is over and I will never run again I am looking forward to a race with my daughter and a good friend, this Sunday. It's going to be a very very slow 5 mile run but I am going to enjoy every minute of it. I'll even enjoy any discomfort I might feel the next day. 

I haven't lost any of the weight I put on but I haven't gained any weight in a month. That's an improvement since for the past year I gained weight every week.

You may remember Lois, the plant. I blogged about her here Life Lessons From Lois. She has moved off my painting table and now has a spot in the kitchen window. Two years and four months later, I am still talking to her and learning life's lessons. She has been cut  down twice, so that she can rest because everyone needs rest. She has only produced flowers that one time but her blooms are just one part of her.

On Saturday, I watered Lois for the first time in months,  to wake her from her winter sleep. Sunday morning her green leaves started pushing through her bulb. I am grateful for new growth.

Here I am in My Wonderful Life, Perfectly Miserable

I have written here about my weight loss and how with every pound I lost I had to deal with the reasons I gained them. I talked about the emotional part of losing weight. The struggle of losing the armor that protected me and comforted me. I shared my joys as I shed the image I had of myself- the uneducated teen mom… the hillbilly whose family members sexually abused her just like in all those jokes people tell that aren’t really funny at all… the person destined to be abused in every relationship.

I did it. I am in love with the most amazing person. I lost 110 pounds. I ran a marathon. I graduated from college. My daughter is doing well in college and succeeding in her own path. I got the career I wanted. Life is good. I mean really good.

But I am not. I know exactly when it happened. It was the second to last blog that I posted, if you want to read about it.  But, here is the recap- I had surgery last April. My step-mother sent me an edible arrangement.

Memories washed over me and I ate to feel good. I was mad at myself. I felt like I dealt with these issues and I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me. After all, my life was good. I gained 20 pounds. Then I struggled with running. It was hard for me to get out the door. It was hard for me to do something that felt good. Next came the stupid shame cycle. I was ashamed of the way I felt. I was ashamed of losing my healthy mind and body. I was ashamed of not being able to do more. I was ashamed of not being able to talk about it. I pretty much stopped blogging because I had nothing left to say. I was failing myself and that made me feel ashamed.

Twenty more pounds came on and life kept coming at me. I was dealing by trying to pretend that I was dealing. Forget running, waking up was my new struggle. Going anywhere was a problem.

I remember going to the “Chosen Family” Thanksgiving. I cried the hour before leaving the house and the hour and half drive there. I remember thinking that I needed to get myself together. I was being ridiculous.

I gained 20 more pounds. Pretty much stopped running and now find it a challenge to get out of bed to go to work. This is the reality I find myself in today. All because of painful childhood memories I don’t know how to deal with. 

I don’t really believe in depression or mental illness but here I am getting ready for my wife to take me to the doctor. Here I am spending more days crying than doing anything else. Here I am in my wonderful life, perfectly miserable.

It’s time to stop pretending that I am okay. It’s time to start running toward my life again. I hope this includes mental growth, beautiful runs, a stronger marriage, more amazing bonds with my daughter, and life’s beautiful celebrations. I hope to blog more, run more, and celebrate what I have been through.

Run On!

One Goal

Last year a general education teacher announced to me that she did not think it was fair that ‘my’ student got to use a calculator on his math test. I am a special education teacher and one of the things I fight for is making sure ‘my’ students have a fair chance at doing and learning the same things their non-disabled peers do. This often means I make sure they have the appropriate accommodations to help them.

General education and the rest of the world could learn a lot from the running community about providing accommodations for different abilities. When I run the Chicago Marathon this October, I will do it with the top athletes of the world. I will run 26.2 miles just like them. I will cross the same finish line. The only difference is that I will finish around six hours and those top athletes will finish in just a little over two hours. But no one is going to tell me it isn’t fair because I had more time or that only my first 12 miles count. I will instead be congratulated on my personal accomplishment.

 Besides time there will be other accommodations that day. If a person is visually impaired they might run with a guide person. Some people will be running with prosthetic limbs, others in a wheel chair. Still others will be pushed the whole way through by another runner. Some runners will take frequent walk breaks. Some runners will run with headphones to drown out the million spectators.

In the running community everyone gets to run the same race and cross the same finish line, regardless of your ability or the accommodations that you need. Those that cross the Chicago Marathon finish line on October 13, no matter how the runner got there, will be considered a marathon runner. No one will say to me that it doesn’t count or that it isn’t fair because I required extra time than the top athletes. It also will not take anything away from those top athletes because I too got to run the same race as them.

Shameless plug please go here http://bit.ly/10VgYkz read why I am running for Lurie Children’s Hospital and consider donating towards my run!

After finishing the 2011 marathon in 6 hours and 14 minutes.

TW (Trigger Warning)

The night after surgery was a rough. I was in a lot of pain but of course the morning came. I was still in a lot of pain but able to get up, eat, and Lavender had opened the windows so it was bright and cheery. I was feeling better. The miracle of science and the human body… I mean less than 24 hours earlier I was cut open and an organ was removed and here I was feeling better.

Then I got a delivery, an Edible Arrangement and a get well soon balloon. The card was signed “Mom ‘C’.” It took me awhile to figure out that it was from my step-mom. At first I was like whatever and ate a piece of the fruit.

In the last 17 years I have had less than ten phone conversations with my step-mom and my father. When people ask why I don’t talk to my father I say something like “I got pregnant at seventeen and kicked out of my house.” That usually is enough information to get people to move on to the next subject. It’s not a lie just not the truth to that question.

See the truth is 17 years ago my father and his family were living overseas. He had flown to the states on business and decided to stop by and visit me. We were catching up in his hotel. I was telling him all about his granddaughter. He was filling me in on my brothers and sisters. Fast forward thirty minutes to him on top of me, I said, “Please don’t do this daddy.” Up until that point, even with all that went wrong between us in the past and the fact that I was 20, I still considered myself a daddy’s girl. But when the pain became too much in my soul and body as he forced himself onto me, I willingly took him in my mouth.

When I talked to my step mom on the phone in the coming weeks she first told me that she heard I had gotten fat and then informed me that she knew what happened. My father had told her that stuff had gotten out of hand. She said something about how bad he felt and that I should call him. I hung up the phone, shocked.  And so began 17 years of minimal contact.

The day that I got the delivery from my step-mom, I drifted in and out of medicated consciousness. The pain grew worse. My thoughts were getting uglier. My dreams were haunted and I felt like I couldn’t move. I felt miserable. By night time I had a slight fever and started dry heaving and then throwing up. Seventeen years later and I still could taste him in my mouth. Recovery from surgery didn’t go as planned.

I want to wrap this up with a nice neat little bow and talk about surviving and managing and things getting better but it might always be a mess. I might have to live with triggers and the pain of that night forever. I might always feel like white trash. I might always mourn the loss of that family. I might always replay the details in my head. I might always have dark and twisted thoughts. I might always be afraid of him. It might not ever get easier.

I keep getting up and I keep going on.

The "Get Well" balloon fixed up with a pair scissors, canvas, and oil paint.

Time for Change

After a discussion about urban violence, race, gangs, and poverty my seventh graders were directed to write about what we just discussed. They had very little instruction except to write. Please read some excerpts from different student’s writings.  

“The question is why? Why, such tragedy? Each and every day bullets are taking our young people out of the land of the living. The tragedy is over ridiculous things such as money, drugs, arguments, fights, power, revenge, and gangs.”

“Young people are getting into gangs for different reasons. They do it for protection from other gangs, to keep from being bullied, and for respect. Some people are just born into it like from generation to generation. Like a boy I knew. His dad, uncle sister, mother, and cousins are all in the same gang. He sold drugs shot people and even killed. He represented is gang to the fullest. One day he yelled at a group of guys and they killed him.”

“I shouldn’t be saying this but my family is in a gang.  I was born into it. I don’t tag or put anything up because I’m not ranked like my dad. I hate to be looked at like I am a low life. I have big dreams and smart stuff. But, being what I am in there is no way out. But I am going to be an intelligent and smart member, I don’t steal and kill.”

“My older brother joined a gang because his friends talked him into it. One day my baby brother was outside with my older brother when a different gang came by and shot three bullets.  They killed my baby brother. Young people don’t want to be in a gang but sometimes they have no choice. “

If they mentioned names of people or gangs, I left them out to protect the students who wrote these but otherwise this is the words of OUR children. These students are amazing and have the ability to change the world for the better. WE must figure out how to give them the tools to succeed.  WE must stop thinking that gang violence is not our problem. The time for change is NOW.

Pineapple Ginger Crisp-You have to try this!

Lavender and I decided to start this year off with a 30 day healthy eating plan. We are eating mostly whole foods, no white sugar, no artificial sweeteners, and no alcohol. We are also starting yoga on Monday! It’s our plan so if we decide to eat that piece of chocolate or taste that adult beverage there’s no shame. The 30 days is what we make of it. What surprises me are the unsupportive people.  I have people putting cookies in my face trying to get me to eat one. This is one of those no big deal things in my life but it takes me back to two very big deals that involved unsupportive people.

The first is when I went to college. More than one person told me I was being selfish and not thinking of my child. I was also told I would fail. They said there was no way I would be able to go to school full time, raise my child, and work full time. I did. I raised a beautiful child and we both graduated with honors. It would have been nice if I didn’t have to second guess myself along the journey… if I didn’t have to wonder if me having goals and doing what needed to be done to achieve them were selfish.

The second was after I ran my first 5k. This guy that I knew congratulated me. I said thank you and then told him my plan to run the Chicago Marathon the next year. He actually laughed in my face and then while still laughing told me that I was getting a little ahead of myself. I was embarrassed. Honestly though, when I crossed the marathon finish line I didn’t think about him.

Why do we do crush people? Why do put tear each other down? If someone tells you a dream or hope, just try not to take it away from them. Try just asking “is there anything I can do to help?”

Back to this 30 day challenge, we are in week one and the payoff for me has been my new food invention. Pineapple Ginger Crisp, it’s so good.

Ingredients
1 fresh pineapple peeled and chopped
2 inches of fresh ginger, grated
1cup oatmeal
½ cup pineapple juice
1 very ripe banana
1tblsp coconut oil

Cook ginger with coconut oil on low heat for about 5 minutes, add pineapple to the pan and cook for another minute. In a bowl mix oatmeal, pineapple juice, and banana. In an ungreased pan add the pineapple mixture and top it with the oatmeal mixture. Bake at 350 for about 40 minutes.

My Shameful Secret

                I have a secret. It’s something I find hard to talk about. It’s the shame that I feel that keeps me from talking about it. My wife is bipolar and suffers from clinical depression. That is not a secret. If you have a question about that, my wife will welcome them and engage you in an open and honest conversation for what that means and has meant in her life. The secret is that I refuse to talk about it.

                I don’t talk about because I am ashamed of the way feel about it.

                I feel selfish. I have read books on how to cope when you have a loved one that is depressed. They say things like make sure you are taking care of yourself. No one tells you how to not yell and take out your anger on your depressed loved one. They don’t tell you how lonely it feels. They don’t tell you how to get over that selfish feeling of wanting to make this about you and scream, “I know you’re depressed but what about me!”

                I think the bigger issue is how afraid it makes me. It scares me. I’m scared because I don’t know how to handle it. I’m scared because it is full of what ifs. I’m scared because I can’t stand the thought of losing Lavender to this disease.  I’m scared because I don’t know how to say the right things. I’m scared.

                The truth is in the past 4 ½ years it hasn’t been a big issue. Lavender is doing well. She has great self-awareness. She takes time for her emotional health. At this time, she doesn’t require medication. Then why you ask do I refuse to talk about it. Well, the moments, the very brief moments this disease has shown itself in our relationship, I did a horrible job of handling it. I was selfish and scared.  I said the wrong things and acted the wrong way. If I can’t handle these brief moments, how can I ever handle a full blown major depressive period? How can support the person I love during this? How will I be able to sit in the darkness with her? This is what scares me.

                When Lavender tries to talk about it or someone else mentions it, I shut down. I know this hurts her. I know she wishes I was able to have an open and honest conversation with her. I know she is patiently waiting. I’m getting there. I need to let go of the shame and talk about how it makes me feel.

What Version of the Truth Do You Want?

I haven’t blogged in a while because I can’t decide what version of the truth I want to say.

I have slowed down on running and it makes me feel terrible inside and out but I have been running ten mile distances almost every week and that makes me feel great.

I have gained 5 pounds and that makes me feel like a loser but I am not training (yet) for a marathon so thinking I could maintain a 0 pound weight gain doesn’t even make sense.

I am happy that my daughter is doing so well at college but when I hear talking about moving out of our home for good, it makes me sad.

I am grateful that my mom came to see me and even more grateful that she said she would probably never come see me again.

I love my job and where I work. I hate that if the wrong person/people find out I am gay I could get fired.

I need to start looking for a new a job but I don’t want to.

I hate living in chaos but have never known anything else so all this stability in our house is great and making me miserable.

My life is amazing and I can’t fully enjoy it because I can’t stop thinking about all the things that might happen to mess it up.

The truth I know for sure I am surrounded by great people full of love.

Running Has Taught Me, I Decide What I Can Do!

I am running the Hot Chocolate 15k tomorrow! I am excited. It is my first time running this race. Let me tell you why.

Two years ago around this time I wanted to run the Hot Chocolate 15k. People told me not to do it. They told me I couldn’t do it. In their defense, I was overweight and I had only been running for two months. I listened to them and didn’t sign up.

The week of the Hot Chocolate I felt really bad about myself. I hated my body. I hated the way I looked. I hated that I was 35 and in school. I hated that I listened to someone else tell me what I could do!

So, I did what any sane person would do.  I got off the couch, put on my running shoes and ran ten miles. When I was done my body hurt in ways I didn’t know were possible. I had blisters on the bottoms of my feet. The inside of my thighs where rubbed raw.  My arms felt like they might break off. I felt like I was going to throw up.  I will never forget that run. It was one of the best feelings I have ever had in my life. I claimed my power that day. I decided what I could do and I did it!

Perspective and Teaching

I went to a beer festival a couple of weeks ago and someone was handing out cheap gloves. Me, being the school teacher, asked for a few pairs to add to my lame bag of prizes for students. I actually call it my "lame bag prizes."  It has free things that I collect and then give away for birthdays, games, and good behavior. Students truly seem to enjoy getting to pick something from my “lame bag of prizes.” They also seem to enjoy the name.

Anyway back to the gloves. I was holding a study group for a math test the next day. I really wanted the students to do well so I offered incentives like pop and chips to come to my study group. I was secretly patting myself on the back when 22 out of 44 students showed up. I mean that is an awesome turn out. I had been working hard for the past three weeks to get them motivated to learn associative, commutative, and distributive properties. They were also learning scientific notation, rounding, and place value. I was pleased with the growth that I was sure they would show.

Back to the gloves. It was the end of the study session. I offered the best behaved and hardest working students a pick at the lame bag of prizes. One of my students looked at me at said, “really we can take these gloves.” I assured him that yes the gloves were fair game. He said, “I’m taking the gloves then. Winter is coming and my hands were cold last year.”

The powers that be are appalled that my 8th grade students don’t know their multiplication facts. Lesson in perspective - 8th grade students who don’t know their multiplication facts are more concerned with keeping their hands warm, taking care of their siblings, and finding food than multiplication facts.