tonight

Today is a day I’ve been anticipating for months. Today marks the 3^rd annual Share the Love Fundraiser that I created several years ago to raise funds for an organization that I believe in with my whole heart – Texas Advocacy Project. Their cause is one that is hard to talk about because of the havoc it wrecked on my life. Putting this event on isn’t easy for me.

I’ve often wondered why a topic that is so relevant and effects so many people isn’t talked about much. It’s easy to say that it’s not popular or fun to talk about and both are very true. But the truth is that it happens and happens often – every 1 out of 3 women will experience some sort of abuse in her life. This is a LOT of people! And it makes sense that people don’t want to talk about something that showcases and sheds light on just how awful and cruel one human being can be to another. The other thing I’ve realized about the quiet around these topics is that it isn’t easy for the people who have gone through something like this. It can be excruciatingly painful to think about, much less talk about. There is also so much misunderstanding around these topics. It’s just a tough topic all the way around.

And that’s exactly why I wanted to start a fundraiser for this cause. Abuse is rampant and the more I talk about it, the more other people share their stories with me – ones of themselves, their mothers, their friends, their daughters, and the list goes on. I really believe that the only way dark realities change is to shed light on them – to talk about them. I really believe that the only way dark hurts and traumas heal is to shed light on them – to talk about them. It is these beliefs that drive me forward with being vocal about what I went through and helping raise money for Texas Advocacy Project.

At the end of December (I mentioned this in a previous blog post), I began thinking about what I would talk about tonight and soon found myself crying and grieving for the things that had been lost. There has been much gained but the reality is that there has also been serious loss. There’s just no way around it. Since that day I have found myself increasingly emotional about this evening and not sure why. I’ve asked myself why I put this event on when it causes me so much emotional stress. I’ve lost many nights of sleep over it and have become increasingly tearful. And you know what? That’s okay.

Yesterday I received two amazing emails. One from a dear friend and one from my beautiful sister.

My friend reminded me of a few things:

“Forget the difficulty for a moment, though: courage starts with showing up and letting yourself be seen. That's what you're doing tomorrow. It's what you did last year. It's what you did in the courtroom. It's what you -- and others (agencies like TAP) -- do each and every single day they decide to fight this fight. You all decide that everything else aside, there must be an initial step somewhere, and that step takes tremendous faith and confidence and courage. Sometimes that step is as simple as telling your story, sometimes it's as tough as just going out and being around people -- regardless, courage is courage is courage, and its varying degrees don't matter. Everyone who has fought this should be applauded evenly.

And with crazy, how many nights did you fight with yourself about what was right, what would aggravate him, what would be worth the fight, what wouldn't be…and then you did it. One step: the courageous step to just show up. To enter the arena. To dare greatly. The common bond with everyone there tomorrow, yourself most certainly included, is that they have experienced (firsthand or secondhand) something that is designed to paralyze you with vulnerability. It is supposed to keep you tearful, afraid, and homebound. But there will be hundreds of people there tomorrow, raising thousands of dollars, out and open in the heart of one of America's biggest cities, talking about something they should be too afraid to, fighting something that feels so magnificently unnavigable, and taking control. And it all starts with one simple, tough, beautiful step, the same exact one you need to (and will) take tomorrow evening when you speak for thirty seconds to a group of people who LOVE you. Just being yourself is ok, it is enough. And all you can do is show up and let yourself be seen.”

And from my sister:

“I know it is [hard], and you’re wonderful to do it.  You’re doing it to help all the women/girls behind you, and that’s something you certainly aren’t obligated to do.  You’re making a difference.  And, that’s unfortunately not always easy; you’re wonderful to do this.  I’m glad it’s finally arrived and after tomorrow you can be lighter, focus on you, your friends and the things that make you smile.”

I have been SO hard on myself lately and these letters remind me that my emotions are okay, they’re normal, and they’re healthy. But there’s something bigger here at stake than my emotions. Being reminded why I choose to do this makes me so much more appreciative for this event. Going through what I went through was absolute hell. All I want is to hold every child, girl, and woman who doesn’t have someone to hold them through whatever similar hell they are going through. And tonight is my way of giving them a hug and saying that someone is here for them.

tiny beautiful things

I finished a book yesterday that is now among my favorites. It's a book written by Cheryl Strayed who wrote an advice column called Dear Sugar. This book, tiny beautiful things: Advice on love and life from Dear Sugar is a compilation of her most popular columns. This isn't a typical advice column. Sugar says things like,

"Inhabit the beauty that lives in your beastly body and strive to see the beauty in all the other beasts."

"Forgiveness doesn't just sit there like a pretty boy in a bar."

"Believe that the fairy tale is true."

"Let yourself be gutted. Let it open you. Start here."

Her column was a hit because she believes in the beautiful, she's radically forthright while being kind, she's a little bit crude and sarcastic while tempering it with humor and lovingly refers to her readers as "honey bun" and "sweat pea". Her words are real and I think we can all relate to much of what she says. The final question in the book was one that was so perfectly answered, I had to share it. Perhaps we can't relate to the specific stories but we can relate to the experiential part because as my old mentor used to tell me, "It's never about the story." The stuff underneath, the heart is what we relate to and so here's a bit of wisdom from Dear Sugar. 

Dear Sugar,

I read your column religiously. I'm twenty-two. From what I can tell by your writing, you're in your early forties. My question is short and sweet: What would you tell your twentysomething self if you could talk to her now?

Love,

Seeking Wisdom

Dear Seeking Wisdom,

Stop worrying about whether you're fat. You're not fat. Or rather, you're sometimes a little bit fat, but who gives a shit? There is nothing more boring and fruitless than a woman lamenting the fact that her stomach is round. Feed yourself. Literally. The sort of people worthy of your love will love you more for this, sweet pea.

     In the middle of the night in the middle of your twenties when your best woman friend crawls naked  into your bed, straddles you, and says, 'You should run away from me before I devour you', believe her.

     You are not a terrible person for wanting to break up with someone you love. You don't need a reason to leave. Wanting to leave is enough. Leaving doesn't mean you're incapable of real love or that you'll never love anyone else again. It doesn't mean you're morally bankrupt or psychologically demented or a nymphomaniac. It means you wish to change the terms of one particular relationship. That's all. Be brave enough to break your own heart.

     When that really sweet but fucked-up gay couple invites you over to their cool apartment to do Ecstasy with them, say no.

     There are some things you can't understand yet. Your life will be a great and continuous unfolding. It's good you've worked hard to resolve childhood issues while in your twenties, but understand that what you resolve will need to be resolved again. And again. You will come to know things that can only be known with the wisdom of age and the grace of years. Most of those things will have to do with forgiveness.

     One evening you will be rolling around on the wooden floor of your apartment with a man who will tell you he doesn't have a condom. You will smile in this spunky way that you think is hot and tell him to fuck you anyway. This will be a mistake for which you alone will pay.

     Don't lament so much about how your career is going to turn out. You don't have a career. You have a life. Do the work. Keep the faith. Be true blue. You are a writer because you write. Keep writing and quit your bitching. Your book has a birthday. You don't know what it is yet.

     You cannot convince people to love you. This is an absolute rule. No one will ever give you love because you want him or her to give it. Real love moves freely in both directions. Don't waste your time on anything else.

     Most things will be okay eventually, but not everything will be. Sometimes you'll put up a good fight and lose. Sometimes you'll hold on really hard and realize there is no choice but to let go. Acceptance is a small, quiet room.

     One hot afternoon during the era in which you've gotten yourself ridiculously tangled up with heroin, you will be riding the bus and thinking what a worthless piece of crap you are when a little girl will get on the bus holding the strings of two purple balloons. She'll offer you one of the balloons, but you won't take it because you believe you no longer have a right to such tiny beautiful things. You're wrong. You do.

     Your assumptions about the lives of others are in direct relationship to your naive pomposity. Many people you believe to be rich are not rich. Many people you think have it easy worked hard for what they got. Many people who seem to be gliding right along have suffered and are suffering. Many people who appear to you to be old and stupidly saddled down with kids and cars and houses were once every bit as hip and pompous as you.

     When you meet a man in the doorway of a Mexican restaurant who later kisses you while explaining that this kiss doesn't "mean anything" because, much as he likes you, he is not interested in having a relationship with your or anyone right now, just laugh and kiss him back. Your daughter will have his sense of humor. Your son will have his eyes.

     The useless days will add up to something. The shitty waitressing jobs. The hours writing in your journal. The long meandering walks. The hours reading poetry and story collections and novels and dead people's diaries and wondering about sex and God and whether you should shave under your arms or not. These things are your becoming.

     One Christmas at the very beginning of your twenties when your mother gives you a warm coat that she saved for months to buy, don't look at her skeptically after she tells you she thought the coat was perfect for you. Don't hold it up and say it's longer than you like your coats to be and too puffy and possibly even too warm. Your mother will be dead by spring. That coat will be the last gift she gave you. You will regret the small thing you didn't say for the rest of your life.

     Say thank you.

Yours,

Sugar

Firsts

I’m back from my trip and am experiencing a bit of a lull from the high of it all. Something I think is really fun about my trip is that there were a lot of new experiences for me. Some were things I’ve been wanting to check off my “I’ve done that!” list, some were things I hope I never take for granted, and some were things I hope that maybe one day I will take for granted. Here are these firsts:

1.   Simply taking the trip. I’ve never truly traveled on my own and it’s something I knew I needed. I’m so very grateful to have insisted on this despite a lot of well-intentioned reactions from people who love me. I hope I never take my alone time for granted and don’t know that I ever could. I’m a different person because of this trip and know this trip doesn’t end with stepping off the plane. The ripple effects and realizations from this time are sure to keep coming. 

My first view of the ocean coming into Grand Cayman.

One of the many lovely courtyards where I was staying.

2.     Going scuba diving. This was on my list of things I’ve been wanting to do for quite some time. Despite being a terrible swimmer and having a completely irrational fear of putting my face underwater, I thought I’d get hooked. Not so much. At all. Once in the water for the training portion, I began visibly shaking. I went from feeling very cool and confident to quickly reverting to a very unbrave version of myself. I stayed in the water because I have an intensely stubborn determination to face my fears. In an attempt to feel better, I began quizzing the scuba instructor on how long he’d been taking people diving, how long he himself has been diving, and whether or not he’d ever had any problems with a newbie. He assured me of his experience and asked me to please not be his first trouble student. Poor guy. Once we dove, I kept my hand pressing the breathing device tightly against my face. I was terrified that somehow I’d drop it from my mouth so I kept my teeth clenched so tightly I made my jaw sore.  I also felt the odd need to hang on to my scuba instructor’s hand throughout the dive. I would grab onto it only to have him remove it from my grip and as he’d swim away, I’d grab onto his leg. He’d turn, ask if I was ok, I’d give my ok signal and on it went. I really felt the need for human contact to help me feel more comfortable. Pretty funny. 

I did it!

3.     Horseriding on the beach. Like most little girls, I grew up wanting to ride horses. The desire never went away so my parents relented and in high school I started riding. I’ve always wanted to ride on the beach so in Grand Cayman, I took my own intimate sunset ride with a pair of newlyweds. We even took our horses swimming in the ocean. It was phenomenally beautiful, relaxing, and either number 2 or 3 of my favorite experiences from this trip. I want to do it again. 

4.     Relying solely on my feet, public transportation, and hitchhiking to get around. I would bet good money I’m the first person ever to take a bus to the Ritz Carlton. I walked countless miles and spent a lot of time both marveling and detesting the bus system. I got yelled at on the buses. And hit on. And I nodded my head a lot pretending to understand English with an accent I’d never heard. I sprinted after buses and begged drivers to take me off-route. It was all part of the magic for me. I hope I never take either of these things for granted. I want cars to be a luxury for me even when a part of my daily life. 

From my first bus ride.

5.     Comparing myself to an African lady carrying a jug of water on my head. Do these women have any musculoskeletal imbalances?! Why would I compare myself to an African women carrying a jug of water on my head? In my multiple trips to gas stations to purchase water and lug heavy bags of bottled water home, I was reminded of women carrying water jugs on their head. I love walking because of how connected I feel and carrying water made me feel connected to these women around the world who throughout history have walked miles to bring water home.  It felt really historically beautiful to me. Perhaps one day I’ll visit a country where they carry things on their heads and learn from the best. Bucket list item noted. 

I want to learn from her.

6.     Rode in a submarine.

Yes, I rode in a REAL submarine! I took a night submarine dive and went about 120 feet underwater. We saw a lot of different types of fish, coral, crabs. It was pretty surreal.

The entrance to the sub.

Waiting to go down.

On my way down into the submarine!

Photos didn't take well but I did my best.

Coral

Cool shot of the inside of the sub.

Watching the sub go below water.

There it goes!

And, gone.

7.     Swam with stingrays, fed them, and even kissed them!

So, technically I’ve done this before but I was much younger and don’t remember it. I’m including this in my firsts list because the hour I spent with the stingrays has got to be one of my favorite hours in my life. I adore all animals but there was something really incredible about having these large creatures rub up against you, kiss you, and hug you in their little stingray way. I loved the way they vacuum suck food out of your hand.  Two of the stingrays I held were pregnant and I was able to feel the baby stingrays moving inside of them. It truly was magical. It was also interesting to learn that stingrays don’t sting as absentmindedly as I had previously thought. They only have one stinger and when they sting something, it falls out and takes about a year to grow back.

They were really sweet, affectionate animals and I’d like to go back to Grand Cayman to do that again.

On our way out to Stingray City. My first ride on a sailboat!

Frisbee. Beautiful pregnant, tailless stingray.

I could play with them forever.

Giving Frisbee one of many kisses! mmmwwuaH!

I’m home now and it feels strange. Sad even. Everything I left is the same but I am unquestionably different. The trip was perfect. It was phenomenal, it was eye-opening, it was hard, it was fun. I fought with myself and I embraced myself. I learned more about what I like and what I’m made of. I connected with ME more. I really believe that the best and hardest and most rewarding places on this planet are the one’s where there’s no hiding spot - there's nowhere to hide when it's just you.

And to quote the last line from my favorite book, “How wild it was to let it be”.

This Beach

Strolling along the beach, I have the sudden recognition that I was also on a beach this time last year.  It was under very different circumstances.  I was very much in love and it wasn’t too long after that trip I had my heart broken for the first time.  It was my first time to really open my heart and love someone with every inch of my being.  We loved with everything we had and it wasn't enough.  As exquisite as the love was, the pain of the end was equally exquisite.  It was excruciating.  I spent the majority of 2012 putting the pieces of my heart and myself back together. 

***

My parents met and fell in love here … I can see why and I can imagine them on this delightfully perfect beach. I’ve long imagined them in their youth strolling hand in hand, without a care in the world, spending their days tangled in each other’s arms on a - this beach. They have a beautiful relationship and it’s fun for me to think about what it must have been like when they first met. The hotel where they met each other burned down shortly after they left but the sign still remains.  Ironically, I’m staying right across the street from it so every day when I take my walks, I see it and it’s a very comforting sight for me.  It’s like a part of them remains on the island and is a poignant visual reminder of how very strong and deep the love they have for each other is.  Just as the sign survived the fire, so have they survived fires of their own.

***

Growing up I took the strength of their relationship for granted.  It’s once I entered my 20’s I realized how rare it is for two people to meet at such a young age and not only stay together but fall even more deeply in love despite the passage of time and extremely difficult challenges.  To be friends and companions.  To laugh every day together.  The depth of their commitment has always been obvious: every evening that I can remember my mom has jumped up to greet my dad with a hug and kiss when he gets home from work.  She didn’t and doesn’t have to say why – I know I’d prefer to go home to someone thrilled to see me versus an empty house or someone with a litany of demands.  She also doesn’t have to tell me that there were probably days she didn’t feel like it and did it anyways.  Probably days they’d had an argument or going through a tough time.  Maybe she was tired.  She would turn down invitations if they interfered with her being home to greet my dad.  As a child and teenager it bothered me and now I have so much respect for her commitment to this small and simple act.  And when my mom gets up from the dinner table, my dad says things like, “isn’t that the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen?”  He plays with her and teases her.  He touches her.  And after 37 years the look I see in my dad’s eyes when he looks at my mom is the way I hope someone one day looks at me.

***

I say I spent 2012 putting the pieces of myself back together but the truth is I have found myself in a new shape altogether.  Maybe I wasn’t quite whole before.  Maybe I never was.  I am now and that is an exquisite thing to be able to say.  

My Day in Pictures

For my final day of 2012, I have put together a photo blog.  Today in pictures:

Sunrise this morning. It was a bit stormy.

Post-morning sweatfest - ending the year right!

This little guy was too cute not to include. I thought his little curls were precious and then he passed out with his mouth open! This is on the lonnggggg but very scenic bus ride to Queen Elizabeth Botanical Gardens.

I have had several favorites on my trip and the Botanical Gardens are absolutely on my favorite list - perhaps my most favorite. I love being outside and seeing beautiful snippets of nature and I often find myself at gardens in various cities as I travel. I kept finding myself with a huge smile on my face and laughing out loud. After two highly emotional days, this was a great way to end 2012.

I thought of my British grandparents throughout the trip to the garden.  They love greenery and often send us photos of butterflies on flowers. I have a new camera and the combination of admiring the gorgeous and plentiful butterflies with my new camera's zoom capabilities was really fun for me!

I spent a lot of time in the gardens chatting with the butterflies and telling them how lovely they are. 

I can't even imagine. What a blissful life.

The actual tree wasn't anything spectacular to look at but I'd like to know the history of it's name.

Another gorgeous little butterfly!

I chatted with this little guy for awhile. My family used to have a very loving iguana named Bernice so every time I see one I'm reminded of her and want to believe she can hear me. I told this guy what big mus(K)les he has!! I wanted to squeeze them like we did with Bernice.


Beautiful face.

The story of this tree is amazing. See below.

More garden photos

Cat's Whiskers!! I LOVE(d) this plant. I adore cats and anything cat related. I mayyyybe told this plant how wonderful it is.

Sweet little ducks.

Anyone else impressed with this photo? I thought it was really cool and felt artistically satisfied. 

See below for the warning sign that comes with this tree.

I forget to do things like charge electronics so around this time in the garden my camera died. I was SO bummed! I attempted to make do with the camera on my phone but it's pretty poor quality.

This itty bitty tree is MEAN! It's actually parasitic to the surrounding roots of neighboring plants. Now THAT is survival of the fittest.

Look between the tree and the leaves and you'll see a head. I stood silently watching this little guy (I was SO bugged about my camera otherwise I could have gotten a good shot) for at least 20 minutes. Then a couple came along, asked what I was watching and it of course ran off. I told them what I had been watching and the man laughed and said I'd been watching an Agouti - basically a large rodent. He seemed to find it humorous and I was annoyed he'd chased off my first mammal encounter of the day.

Agouti sighting # 2. If you look verrrrry closely you'll see the little guy back there. 

Apparently they're very shy so it was really special that I got to see two!

Really, they look more like this. Thank you, Google Images.

                                                

The aforementioned male pictured above. I thought this was a sweet photo even though I felt a little strange taking a photo of people I don't know.

I took this for my sister, Luisa. She LOVES wisterias and I think this is one?

My journey home was an interesting one. I've become a little impatient with the bus system. At moments I continue to marvel at it but those times I want to be somewhere at a certain time, I'm pretty annoyed. So, today when I was told that a bus would pick me up in 45 minutes and I was a 30 minute drive from the Gardens back to where I'm staying, I decided to be bold and ask a couple of firefighters if they'd take me home. This particular guy in the photo ended up being very creepy, asking me to party with him tonight, to meet him in Miami to party, and to exchange email addresses so we could keep in touch and party around the world (ummmmm??). He didn't get detailed with his definition of party but I was pretty sure I'm not interested. Thankfully he was only giving me a ride in the firetruck for cool factor because I was getting a bit nervous. When it was time to exchange contact information, I told him my name is Roberta and that my email address is roberta001@aol.com. I really hope this isn't anyone's contact information but I was in a pinch.

My new penpal driving away in my first firetruck to ever ride in. I was later told I could brag to my friends that I rode in the most expensive truck on the island. Purportedly it is worth $1.3 million. Who knew?

The ex-fire chief took me the rest of the way home. His name was Roy and much more honorable than his buddy. He told me stories about his wife and 6-year old grandson. Just as Maxine had a fascination with back when mosquitos killed cows, Roy LOVED talking about Christmas lights and his love for them. Sweet man.

And the fireworks show tonight. Right off of my balcony.

Perfect.

Happy New Year!!