So, I graduated! YAY! Missed my birthday so wondered…did I actually turn 18? Got engaged. Seemed right at the time. Had some unfinished things from High School to make decisions about.

When I was in the play an advertising photographer Had seen me and thought I’d be good as a character model in commercials. He called me at home and I told my mom about it. She had a friend who used to be a model and she asked about this photographer. Turned out he was an excellent photographer with a good reputation. So, my mom said I could go ahead.

He told me he’d take pics and I could choose 6 and bring them, to the modeling agency in town. Also with a good reputation. I was totally uncomfortable, at first. All these things of paper hanging from the ceiling and the lights…I felt awkward and out of place. Was almost ready to quit. Then he said, “Just a moment”, and he left and turned on music and returned. Then, I could relax into the music. As a dancer that felt much more natural to me. We finished up pretty quickly after that and he said he’d send the proofs in the mail.

When I got them it seemed so funny. I didn’t see myself like that at all. But, I chose some pics and then asked my mom if she thought I should go to the modeling agency. She paused for a bit and then said, “Do you REALLY think they’ll amount to anything?” What had felt like excitement a moment before deflated like a popped balloon. “No.” I said. “I guess not.” And with that, I put them away and tried not to wonder what might have happened if I’d gone ahead in spite of my mother’s feelings. I mean, the main reason I wanted to do it was to earn money for college. And, I’d heard residuals could be pretty good if the commercial was popular.

In retrospect, I think its probably a good thing I didn’t pursue it. Not because I might not have succeeded, but because I was terribly naive and that environment might have been very challenging for me to navigate. I had enough difficulty with regular life.

I did not realize how protected I had been until I got my first 40 hour a week job that summer. It was in an electronics company soldering circuit boards. Big garage type building that was very long, very hot and the only air-conditioning was to open the garage door at the far end and put a fan on. The front office had AC and was carpeted. The boss there was all about PR. He rarely even noticed we were alive.

The back room boss was this kind man from Norway. He was also the design engineer. He was the brains behind it all. He was as quiet and kind as the front office guy was loud and obnoxious. And they were brothers. Go figure.

The work was ok. I kind of liked it. Some of the parts we worked with were gold so every job we did had to be counted to make sure we didn’t steal anything. For some reason I thought that was kind of cool. But, work wasn’t the problem. When I started there were two other girls my age who started at the same time and we immediately gravitated towards each other for moral support. We were the same age, but I noticed pretty quickly that they seemed much older than me. They knew more about life. I was fascinated listening to them talking. It was like they were from another world.

But, the world I had a lot of trouble with was the older women who had been there a long time and felt the authority of their time served. They were always on us younger ones about working too fast and making them look bad. Or being replaced by younger workers, which I can understand now. But, at the time we became prey. The other girls seemed to have no problem with it. As I said, I think they had more experience in the larger world than me. It didn’t take long for me to be singled out as the best one to prey on. They would “accidently” bump into me and mess up my tray. Or make a derogatory mark just loud enough for me to hear. But the thing that I had not been exposed to was women who cursed…a lot. It was forbidden at home. They were using words I had never heard and references to things I knew nothing about. I was actually a bit frightened of them. I never knew what they were going to say or do next. And, when they found out I blushed easily, they went out of their way to say things they knew would embarrass me. Then laughed when I blushed. Work became very stressful.

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But, the back room boss, Mr. K, Noticed what was going on and asked if I wanted to work on another project making the front of computer panels for a blood typing machine. I gladly accepted and enjoyed that work a lot. I learned to assemble the entire board and how to test it. I even saw one on TV on a mdical show and got excited because it might have been one I worked on. But, it was not without mishaps…

One day I was de-burring some switches and a switch got caught up and started spinning and cut my thumb. I panicked, of course. I yelled “Mr. K!” at the top of my lungs and he came running to see what the catastrophe was. When he got there he pulled my chair back and reached under the machine and shut it off and told me, “In situations like this, we often find the best thing to do is to shut off the machine.” I felt like an idiot. Then he saw my thumb and brought me to his office to bandage it. The whole way there I heard the comments of “Bosses Pet” from the ladies. More blushes. Again, I was separate…I didn’t fit in.

But, there was a little humor too. One day Mr. K, his intern and I were all in his office facing different walls working on different things. Mr. K sometimes had trouble with English words and spelling so when he asked me how to spell something, it was not unusual. But, this day he turned around and said, “Z, does measurement have one s or two?” I thought a minute and said, “Two”. He turned back around and it was quiet, but he turned back to me and said, “No, you are wrong! Measurement only has one s. But, maybe with your measurements you need two.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth he realized what he had said and started blushing. YES! HE started blushing. And then I did. And the Intern fell out of his chair laughing at both of us.

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When I gave my 2 week notice the front office boss was upset. It turns out the Ad had not said permanent work, so we three girls had just wanted a summer job and he was not happy. I felt a little sad to leave my boss. He had protected me when I didn’t know how to protect myself. It was quite an education.

Other than working I didn’t do much. I could feel the engagement had been a mistake and it should probably end. But, I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. So I put it off all summer. He got stranger and stranger. Started playing these mind games I didn’t understand. I think he felt I was pulling back. He was trying to hang on. But, by summer’s end, I told him it was over. He was not happy. I felt guilty. But, college was starting soon. I had a feeling that was going to be a whole lot of adjustments. But, it was far more than I had counted on…

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I do not seem to be good at doing this writing and printing thing. I keep losing it before printing. Lets hope this time I get it right.

High school gave me hope for a new beginning. It was a much bigger school. And, it was the blending of the rich and poor kids. Until then, I hadn’t realized I was one of the poor kids. My two new dresses a year seemed normal. Then, I saw girls that never seemed to wear the same thing twice while i was wearing cut down box-pleated skirts and bulky sweaters in a min-skirt and shell style culture. I even had a teacher aske where i got my clothes. Kind of humiliating. They went to salons. My mom cut my hair. They went on trips to Europe. I rarely went anywhere. It was culture shock for me. Made me want to shrink into the walls even more. And, it was a predominantly Jewish culture, which meant I grew up speaking Yiddish without knowing it was Yiddish. It was just normal to me. It wasn’t until much later I had someone ask me if I was Jewish and when I said no they asked why I was speaking Yiddish. Funny how we can acquire things without knowing it. I was also a nanny for a Jewish family and had to learn a little Hebrew to say nighttime prayers with the kids. ( They made fun of my accent.) And, they included me in Shabbat, which I liked. Although T warned D not to give me too much wine because i still had to do dishes, lol.

I also was thrown back with the teacher who molested me because of Future Teachers of America. They paired you with a teacher i your interest and mine was music. Didn’t know how to explain why i shouldn’t be with him. Had to shadow him for two weeks. It was emotionally hard. My stomach was in knots. He had this control over me I didn’t understand or know how to stop. It wasn’t until I was in my 20’s and married that I finally told him to stop calling me or I would call the police. That ended it, but I checked the phone book and obituaries for years until I knew he was gone.

I did find fencing club. My dance training and size were perfect to be an agile fencer with a small target. I was undefeated. And I met others who also didn’t fit in well. I was co-captain for two years. Something MY Principal reminded me of when he caught me sliding down the banister, foil in hand yelling touché. I got a lecture about the appropriate behavior of presidents of school clubs. My friends and I ran to the practice room and burst out in hysterical laughter. Humor had already become my stress release. My Fencing Club. I’m in black…trying to be invisible.

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I also had choir which was my salvation in more ways than one. My best friend was with me. The one who was there when I had the dreams. And we sang some incredible music. I also made it into the Mixed Chorale, a 16 voice performance group. Once I decided to walk to rehearsal and went through a field of wild flowers and was entranced! I picked some and put them in my hair and picked a bouquet to bring with and realized I was going to be late so I started running. I arrived at practice red cheeked, out of breath with flowers in my hair and my hand thrust out with a bouquet for my teacher who said I looked like a “wood sprite from the fairy realm come to visit”.

But, it was also him who noticed the crying spells that started in his class. They would come out of nowhere. After it happened a couple times he would just nod quietly and point to the door. I would go to the counselors office and just cry. I tried to talk but nothing made sense. He wanted to talk to my parents and do some testing. They said absolutely not. So, I just coped as best I could.

One of the triggers may have been the result of falling in love for the first time. Met a man on vacation with my girlfriends family. He was headed for Viet Nam and asked for my address to write to me. And for that year he talked about our future, how he loved me…I fell in love. He was due back September 13th. He said in his last letter that that last week was the most dangerous. Things happened. Then, he didn’t come back. No one I knew in his family to contact. As the weeks went by I got more and more depressed. Then I got a letter from another girl I’d met at the same time. I forgot she knew him. She asked how things were going now that he was home. She was surprised because he had been writing to her. I got the last address and wrote to him. I was pretty upset he hadn’t let me know all that time that he was ok. He said he’d been injured by shrapnel and didn’t I see the address I wrote to? It was a hospital ship. Bur, he still could have let me know. He obviously could write to the other girl. My mom said I couldn’t write to him anymore. That also upset me, but I understand now. If he had truly cared he would have let me know he was ok.

What followed was a series of people trying to get me to date again. My sister-in-law’s brother asked me out, but I was just his decoy to get close to his best friends girlfriend . His friend was going to Viet Nam and they didn’t know how to tell him of their feelings. I told them to be honest. They were and they got married.

Another one was a friend of my brothers. Genius, arrogant. My friends hated him. He also liked to create chaos. I got along ok with him. I really don’t think I was ready for any relationship. I was just trying to please everyone else and get them off my back. He proposed on my 18th birthday. Secretly. My father did not approve. It was also my UN-birthday.

I had gotten a failing notice in Bio-Chemistry. I actually passed, but the notice was enough for me to be shunned and my 18th birthday to not happen. I also had trouble in Chemistry. Turns out the counselor had not told me I needed a certain math course before taking either of them. Chemistry was also problematic. I failed a lab and had to come in after school to retake it. I did the experiment and got the same wrong answer. The teacher had me do it again while he watched me…and I got the wrong answer again. He said I did everything exactly right and had no idea how I came up with the wrong answer. He passed me because I did it correctly, but he was redoing it as I left. Found out years later that there was another man who had the same experience skewing chemistry experiments. So…another weirdness.

I also developed this “gift” of knowing what was going to happen next. Over and over i would say what was going to happen before it did. I didn’t try to know. I just did. People thought I was spooky and avoided me. Another weirdness I didn't understand and no one to ask about it.

Theater was another thing I tried. I made it into the Spring Musical. About two weeks in the director asks if I would like to play the lead. The girl he chose had the looks but couldn’t sing and dance well enough. He figured he could fix my “looks” with make-up. sigh He said if I memorized the first act by Monday I could have the part. So, I studied all weekend with boyfriend’s” help. Felt confident when I went to rehearsal. Then the director noticed everyone was still using their script …but me. And I had only had it two days. Good way to get the cast to dislike me even more for venturing into their drama clique. Pretty sure he did it on purpose. He liked using people to motivate other people. In nasty ways.

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Dress rehearsal went ok. But, when I got home my neighbor ran out to say we had to go to the hospital. My brother had been injured and was having surgery. He had gotten hit in the forehead on the backswing of a golf club and had a depressed skull fracture. (He was 13, as my other brother was when he was blinded in one eye and as I was when I broke my tailbone.) So, we all went. When he got out of surgery the surgeon said to try to get him to say something recent to see if his recent memory had been affected. He looked at me and the first thing out of his mouth was, “Well what do you know. Fatso’s here!” I said he was fine as he had just started calling me that. I do not know why. There was big chaos and anger between my parents. My father had been out of town and blamed my mom for not watching him better. My mom was a wreck.

I went to school that day after about 2 hours sleep. Fell asleep on the lawn of the school and didn’t wake up until the end of day bell rang. I wandered into the school knowing I had to perform…no understudy. Director saw me, said I looked like hell and put me in a dressing room to rest until showtime. The cast was actually very nice and supportive. Offered me pills of various kinds, beer…whatever they thought might help. I made it though and not only remembered my lines but helped another member when he froze. My dad came, sat in the front row, glowering. Never said a word about it afterwards. My mom never came. So, what I hoped would finally be a success just kind of disappeared into nothingness. And my feeling that every time something good happened it would be overshadowed by something bad. My brother was fine, by the way. No aftereffects at all.

One of my favorite memories, though, was about someone else. There was this kid I had known since 2nd grade. He was always in trouble for something. He was mouthy and the teachers were always after him for something. He was very short, so a lot of sports and things were out for him. But, he had a good voice and was in choir with me. One day he noticed on Wednesdays I walked in the other direction to home and asked where I went. I told him I taught CCD at the church to 2nd graders. He asked if anyone could do that and I said, “Well, they’ve gone through three teachers for the third grade, They all quit because the kids were too hard to handle” He got a big grin and said, “They couldn’t have done anything that I haven’t done. Do you think they’d let me teach?” I told him to talk to Mother Superior and he did and started teaching that week. Two weeks later I get called to Mother Superior’s office where she thanks me for sending J and how wonderful he was! Then, J stopped me after school and handed me this silver cross, He immediately said, “I didn’t steal it! I found it” He said he wanted to thank me. He’d always felt he was just a screw up. But he loved teaching the kids and he was going to buckle down in school. He had a goal now. He wanted to be a teacher! That was one of my happiest moments! I was so happy he’d found a dream!

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So, I learned a lot. Hard to escape the past. You have to heal it before it goes away. That i was poor and didn’t even know it. I decided poorness is more a state of mind. I found I liked teaching others. And helping someone see the good in themselves was a wonderful feeling. I did develop this fear of good things happening because bad things always seemed to happen afterwards. I did graduate. Me school counselor told me after I took my ACT’s that I was very smart and could go to any college I wanted. I didn’t believe him. By then, I thought I was stupid. Took many, many years to get over that. I missed my 18th birthday. That hurt. And never went to Prom. But, I survived. I had hope college would be better…

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Fifth and sixth grade were pretty normal, for the most part. I lost my only grandparent in fifth grade and that was sad. I didn’t get to see her very much because she lived half a country away. But, she was the only grandparent I’d had.

But, sixth grade was a bit of a challenge. Puberty. Of all the sixth grade classes, there were only two girls who needed bras. And guess who was one of them? Me, of course. The shortest one. I think that’s where my defense skills transferred from protecting others from bullies to protecting myself from silly boys! By the end of the year, no boy dared to tease or grab at me. I stood in all my 4’10” stature and dared them to try. Must have looked like a little Banty chicken, all puffed up.

Another thing that happened was my mother found a letter I’d written to a convent asking for information about becoming a nun. It was something I had wanted since I was 8 years old. My Spiritual self grew, even though my physical stature didn’t.

Well, when my mother found the letter and read it she went berserk. She started screaming at me, telling me I wasn’t good enough to be a nun, I talked too much, I wasn’t the right kind of person and don’t dare tell my dad or he would be furious. I was kind of stunned. I could understand if she didn’t think it fit me, but the way she described me as this evil, bad person…I mean, if your own mother feels that way about you, you must be REALLY bad. It kind of shattered a part of me. I started looking at myself, trying to see what she saw in me to fit what she was saying. I mean, I knew I wasn’t perfect. I made mistakes. But, I didn’t think I had done anything to warrant her character assessment of me. My friends parents liked me and were happy when their daughters hung out with me because I was the “good” one and I would keep their daughters out of trouble. And my friends called me a “goody two shoes”. A title I was not fond of. So, big conflict for my mind to try to digest.

The other thing was how puberty affected my relationship with my dad. We had always been close and I was always trying to make him proud of me. He had high standards, though, that were hard to live up to. If I got an A, why wasn’t it an A+. If I came in second, why wasn’t it first. I could never quite feel I measured up. And, when I went from child to woman with my body he related to me differently. I used to run to him for wide open hugs, And, suddenly he would only give me “side hugs”. I found out later he was trying to be more respectful. But, at the time it felt like rejection.

Thirteen was the year so many things changed. Mostly for the worst. I slipped on ice and broke my tailbone the first day of Christmas vacation. Had to crawl home. SO much pain. When I told my mom all she di was yell at me and she said we had to hide it from my father or he would be angry. Ever try to hide the restrictive movements of a broken tailbone? I had to have help getting out of bed, standing and sitting, etc. My mom told my dad I had over exercised and pulled some muscles. Never saw a doctor. (Found out 7 years later that, yes…it had been broken. It was still bent when the gynecologist asked when i had broken my tailbone. She said it would straighten out during delivery.)

Junior High itself was scary. Being the shortest in a smaller school was nothing compared to a very large school. I felt overwhelmed and intimidated. I couldn’t see where I was going. Changing classes and lockers were new to me. And I was even more of an oddball than in grade school. But, I felt sort of invisible, so it wasn’t as bad.

The only saving grave was choir and my new girlfriend. We got to be good friends. So, when the next thing happened, she was the one I told. I started having dreams. The first one was that our music teacher got a dog, a French poodle, and named it Fifi. I told her and we laughed…until the teacher started class telling us about going to the store to get a dog. A French Poodle, they named Fifi. She looked at me and both our eyes must have been bugging out. And we thought it was very strange.

The next night I dreamed he played something jazzy on the piano, which he never did. But, that day, at the end of class, he starts playing a Boogie-Woogie and the whole class is clapping and laughing. But my friend is looking at me and making the Twilight Zone music theme song” do do do dooo.”

The third dream shook me up. Mostly because the previous two had come true. I dreamed he had kissed me. It was Saturday, but we were all at the school making sets and painting for the Spring Concert. He assigned everyone their jobs but told me to follow him. When we got to his office he told me he knew I had a crush on him (I did) and then told me it was normal for that to happen and don’t be embarrassed and he was much older than me. (38) I wanted to sink into the chair and disappear. Then, he asked if I wanted to help him and of course I said yes. Anything to get out of that chair. He had some paints that had to go on a shelf in his walk in closet. I got a chair to stand on because, oh yeah, still short. And I climbed up an down placing the paints. Then, I stepped down and he was right behind me and caught me as i came down. I spun around and he kissed me. My very first kiss. And it was a French kiss and I thought it was gross. And then he said what started the mind games and traps I lived with for years. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you? You had better not tell anyone or YOU will be in a lot of trouble!” Rules set. Orders given. Silence.

And what he said ran through my mind…DID I do it on purpose? I didn’t think I had. But, I had dreamed it. Did I make it happen? He was the teacher. The authority figure. He would know more than me, right? And, right there, I owned it and decided everything that followed must be my fault, too. A pattern I repeated in many ways for many things during my life. And, not necessarily a good one.

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So, this was a rough spell for me. Becoming a woman was fraught with challenges. I lost my connection with my father. My Mother seemed to think I was the child from Hell. I started to have prophetic dreams, which I had been taught were evil. And, I was being groomed by a pedophile before I even knew what a pedophile was. I also learned my injuries, ie broken tailbone, were not as important as keeping my father from getting angry. Overall, I felt pretty worthless. I visited the woods a lot. Alone.

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The journey continues as I learn how to cope with everything…til then.

So…I wrote this and lost it before I could send. Its Monday. Perhaps it needed to say something differently? Entirely possible. What I had wanted to talk about was how school doesn’t just teach the basics…other things become lessons, too. Some good. Some not so good.

I learned in Kindergarten that I loved to learn! I loved painting, playing, making letters and helping others. My teacher was very kind, although she did tape my mouth shut with Scotch tape once because I couldn’t stop chattering. But, it was done with humor and came off right away and we all laughed. Lesson learned. One must wait ones turn. And be polite. Very hard for a little dynamo with a million questions running around in her head. I was probably ADHD, but we called it “Ants in the pants” back then. The teacher would just have me go run around the playground to burn off some energy. Another lesson…if I have to much energy I am disruptive. Go do something to burn off all that energy. I still do that when I am upset.

I also learned a lesson during pay time. We had a block room and after play time the teacher noticed I was missing. When she asked if anyone knew where I was all the boys giggled and pointed to the block room. The teacher walked in and there I was, sitting in a block tower that was about four feet tall all around me. I was afraid to move because I didn’t want them to all fall on me. But, my teacher rescued me and all was well. But I learned to not trust boys, lol. Should have listened better to that one!

I had another episode with a box around that age. My parents had gotten a washing machine and the box was in the back yard. So, of course, my friend Tommy and I made it into a fort and brought a candle in it for light. Of course it caught fire and we weren’t tall enough to push it up over our heads. My mom saw the smoke and rescued me. Another lecture. But, I learned not to have candles in cardboard boxes.

I was very short. I was about 6 in this pic. I am the little girl in the front with the tutu on. The girl to the right is a month older. The girl behind is a month YOUNGER. You can see how much shorter I was. Between first and fourth grade I didn’t grow. I know this because we only got new clothes and shoes if we grew. And I had to wear the same two plaid dresses for three years. One was brown plaid and one was turquoise plaid. To this day I hate plaid. Won’t wear it. lol

But, I do wonder why no one ever looked into it, health wise. That’s a long time for a child not to grow. I know, now, that was probably when my Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis began. And, no one really knew what it was way back then. But, as a parent, I know I would have been concerned if my child had stopped growing for three years.

Third grade was hard for me. Strict teacher. It was my turn to shut off the lights in the music room and I was so excited! But, I got the buttons confused and instead hit the intercom to the principal’s office. My teacher was furious with me. Said I had wasted our important Principal’s time. Totally shamed me in front of the class. It made me very scared to make mistakes after that. And it was just a mistake. But, she made me feel like I was an evil person doing evil. That was not a good lesson.

At nine my world went crazy. My brother was hit in the eye by a ricocheted BB and blinded, lawsuit went on, neighborhood took sides, dad started drinking, mom has a breakdown. Family stability gone. We had to raise ourselves. My oldest sister got a job so she didn’t have to be home. My brothers and I coped as best we could.

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I Had one incident during that time. I got myself up and dressed and looked at the clock and saw I was going to be late so I ran the two blocks to school. When I got there, the doors were locked and i thought I was so late they’d locked me out so I’m standing there crying and I noticed the school clock. I was an hour EARLY. So, I walked back home and my mom has gotten up by then and yelled at me, “Where were you?” I told her and she just got mad at me for messing up.

It was during this time I became more and more of a loner. I would go top the park and sit in a tree and think and pray and sing and cry. I was not allowed to cry at home. I came very close to God at that time. And nature.

So, lessons learned…I had to count on myself. Shame hurt. Avoid mistakes. School can be fun and hard. And don’t trust boys…at least with wooden blocks…

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Yes, babies have a tendency to grow…in various ways. Even nameless ones like me. It was 6 weeks before a name was agreed upon for me. My mother and Grandmother argued first about whose name to use, then thought they’d use both. But, then they argued about whose came first. So, for six weeks I was “no name”. That was what was on my birth certificate. `And, they both hated their names…so I got that legacy, too. I never did feel comfortable with my name. Changed it at 50. But, that’s another story.

So, baby grew. I was called “Little girl”, so I’ll use that name. Little girl made up for all that restriction in the womb. Walked at 9 months, ran at 10. Could crawl out of the crib at 9 months too, Hard to corral. I was pretty tiny. Could run full bore under the kitchen table, which was solid pine, until I grew just a bit and hit my head. I was quite angry…at the table. Just as I was angry at the electric cord that “bit” me when I was teething. I was always in motion.

Because I was so little I stayed in the crib until my brother was born 4 1/2 years later. I did NOT want to give it up. It was my fortress. I had no Teddy bear, doll, pacifier, blankie nor did I suck my thumb. I had the whole dang crib! And…a feather. From the pillow. I would pick at the corner of the pillow until I could grab a feather and pull it out. Then, I would hold it between my thumb and first finger and flick it with my third, until I fell asleep.

Then the day disaster struck. The corner of the pillow got quite worn from my pulling feathers out and it developed a hole. Big enough to put my tiny hand into. So, I did. And I pulled out a handful of feathers and inspirations struck! I threw a handful up in the air and it looked like snow! So, I threw another…and another. I was giggling in joy and this wonderfulness!

My dad happened to be watching me that day. He didn’t very often. The last time he’d tried to diaper me and I ended up with six diaper pins to hold the diaper on. But, when he opened the door, and saw all those feathers, his joy did not match mine. At all. In fact there was a very serious “You did something naughty” look on his face. I was not sure I liked where this was going.

He picked me up and gave me a swat on the bottom and put me in my tiny chair. Covered with feathers that were now sticking to my tears and snotty nose. And, I sat there crying and hiccoughing until my mom came home. And, not surprisingly, she had the same look on her face my dad had had. sigh She said it took two weeks to get the feathers out of the wool blankets on the clothesline. And they drifted through the house for ages. But, we all learned lessons that days. I learned to leave the feathers in the pillow and they learned i was hyper-sensitive. I couldn’t stop crying…for hours.

The sensitivity came out in other ways, too. I was very shy with strangers. I would hide in the closet. To bring me out of the shyness she enrolled me in dance at 3. I loved music and I loved dance and i still do. But, I was also wary of strangers away from home. I could feel if someone’s intentions were bad. Now, I would be called empathic. Back then, I was just too sensitive. I felt everyone’s moods.

I also learned that certain things I did made others uncomfortable. I used to talk with my hands. They would be flying all over the place as I excitedly told my news. One day my dad said he’d give me a dollar if I could talk for five minutes without using my hands. A dollar was a LOT back then, so I said yes! I did it and I won my dollar. And I learned one of the first hard lessons without even knowing it. “I am not ok the way I am. I must be like others, don’t talk with my hands, to be accepted”.

When I was about 8 or so I was playing marbles alone in the dirt by the road. A couple walked by, as they often did after supper back then, and when they got to me the woman leaned over and said, “Well, hello little girl. Where are you from?” Without batting an eyelash I said “Venus”. Sometimes I wonder if I already felt that alien to my life and family. The couple quickly moved on and I never saw them again.

I think I will stop here for now. School has too many fun things to explore. But, what I am trying to see is how this all helped create me…now. Anxiety. Fear of restriction. Security via crib and feather. (I still like birds and have a parrot) The restriction of my normal mannerisms so I could fit in. The extreme sensitivity to everything. Perhaps yo can see things in your own past that tried to predetermine who you should be? Please share. I know we all have very individual journeys. I tend to write when the muse hits me. So, until next time…

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We all have our birth stories. As I begin this journey with you I’d like to share mine. My mother had four miscarriages after my older brother was born. He was her 5th child, four from her previous marriage and then my brother from the current one. The doctor told my mother if she wanted to carry me to term she would have to be bedridden until the baby was stable and it was safe to move around. Now, knowing my mother, having to be stuck in bed would not have pleased her at all. She was a very active woman and was not one to sit still let alone lay in bed. So, in my little prebirth cocoon I was already feeling resentment. But, added to that was also fear and anxiety about losing the baby. So, another stress surrounding my little self. I was due May 1st. As my mother got up and was able to move around I am sure I felt better, too. But, I couldn’t seem to make the decision to actually appear. My parents moved to a new home the day I was due, which seems a bit crazy in retrospect. And, my mother was down on her hands and knees washing floors, unpacking and setting up the home. Nine months pregnant. And still, I did not come. She went to a street dance and danced away. And still…no me. Finally, a month later than the due date, I was born. May 30th. She didn’t think she was in labor because there was no pain, but they told her to come in to the hospital where they told her she was fully dilated and ready to go. She told them, “No! I have had 5 babies. I know what it feels like and there is no pain!” “Oh, no!”, they said. “Painless labor! We will have to coach her.” Personally, I don’t think that sounds like a bad thing. But, I finally arrived. All 6#10oz, 20” long. Healthy. With violet eyes, according to my father. But, my story didn’t end there. My mother got what they used to call “milk leg” or phlebitis. Again, when she got home, she wasn’t allowed to move around. And my sister, who was 8 at the time, became my mother. There was never any real bonding with my mother. My sister became that to me and stayed that way most of my life.

So, in the beginning I was surrounded by resentment, anxiety, lack of bonding into a world I had to get to know. I don’t remember being resentful as a child, but I definitely didn’t like to be curtailed from activity. I always wanted to move. And I was anxious and very shy. My Mom said I would hide in the closet when strangers came over. And the lack of bonding showed up over an over again in my journey. That’s what I am exploring in my journey. The effects of things around us, inside us and done to us. Let the journey begin.

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Was on my porch this morning and thought I saw a cat. It was a cat, of sorts. A Bobcat. 10 feet away from me. I ran and grabbed my camera and took some pics though the window. Then, I opened the door carefully and got a shot of it up the tree. BOY can they run fast! Very cool experience! Kind of surprised me it was in broad daylight. Have never seen one here in 18 years.

I went to a local festival yesterday and met some new people in my town. It's a very small town and I am somewhat uncomfortable meeting new people. So, I focused on noticing things about others. One thing that was very obvious was the power of a smile. It's a small thing, yet when it is returned you feel an almost physical swelling of joy in the heart. It's such an easy thing to do, yet its impact can be so great. It's like a hug, only at a distance. Sort of 'Love...level 1'.

It reminded me of how much we need each other in this world. I remember a number of years ago I was at the Vets having my dogs leg x-rayed after a spill she and my daughter shared. There was a woman sitting across from me holding a collar from her dog which had obviously just been put to sleep. I felt so strongly that she needed a hug, but was afraid to approach her for fear of...what? Looking foolish? Being rebuffed? As I milled it over in my mind I got my courage up and went over to her and asked if she was ok...if she needed anything. She told me she was fine and thanked me as her eyes filled with tears. I went and sat down with my husband but kept watch over her while she brought her dog out to her car to bring home to bury. She got to the car and put her head down on the back of the car and that was my signal. I rushed out to her and put my arm around her and she turned towards me and sobbed her heart out. I know she felt uncomfortable at the same time she felt comforted. Why is it so hard to admit we need love and comfort? Do we see it as a weakness? A failing in ourselves? Why do we apologize when we break down and need love?

So, yesterday, I started working on creating a bridge with people again. It's a small bridge, made of smiles. But, when you send love with the smile its the begining of giving love back to a hungry world. I am looking forward to seeing the smiles become hugs and the hugs, laughter and the laughter, healing for the little pains we all encounter.

So, smile at everyone today! Send love with the smile! Laughter is good, too. You may never know just how much that smile was needed or how you changed someone's life. :-)

Love and Joy!

Zihna