At least once every day, since January 20, I have uttered the words “What the F—-“, as I listen to the news. Before this year, I tended to be the type of person with my head part way in the sand, when it came to local and world events; that changed as the new Trump era swept in.
In December 2024, I decided that my New Year’s resolution would be to complete one creative project a month. The year ahead looked like it might have many hard changes. At this point, my prediction is coming true, for many of us. The reason for my new year’s intention was this: having something to focus my imagination on, would clear the noise that might be rattling around my head; it has helped somewhat.
As the executive orders were announced, like so many Americans, I became angry. The very first actions I heard were those that directly impacted the LGBTQ+ individuals; it is a clear attack on human rights. One of my children lived as a transgender individual for a five years, before detransitioning. I felt our president was wiping out a population of people with a swipe of his pen; this wasn’t okay. The executive orders kept coming. This was an intentional strategy to “flood the media”. Typically a mild mannered person, my temper was flaring! To help extinguish the flame within me, I worked with real fire to make my first creative project of the year.
Nine days after the beginning of the presidential proclamations, my husband and I went on our planned vacation to Arizona, the time in Sedona took me away from the news. I felt calmer…maybe it was all the healing energy that was within Sonoran Desert? When we arrived in Tucson, for the next leg of our stay, I received a text from a friend with the headline “Rep. Ogles Proposes Amending the 22nd Amendment to Allow Trump to Serve a Third Term”….all the peaceful feelings went away. The next two days, I was in class and discovered the our teacher and at least several of the women (from the first class) were feeling very much like I was. As I focused on my creative workshops, attended the gem and mineral show and enjoyed the surroundings of Tucson with my spouse, the anger dissipated once again. When we left Arizona, I felt ready to face the next step.
A friend invited me to join a group of people who also were not happy with what was happening in our government: this was a safe space to exchange news headlines and share information. Some of the things conveyed, made me look at things through the eyes of others. In the middle February, I attended a protest and no longer felt completely complacent.
In late February, I focused my on the imaginative project of the month; it connected me with a happy memory and good intention. Although I had some respite from the outside world, my torch must have felt some of my energy (if that is possible); it misfired and singed some of my hair. By the end of the month, I was afraid of what was happening in the United States. As a fan of historic fiction and dystopian novels, the thought of of what took place in the past, layered onto what life could become, instilled fear. Doomscrolling added to my anxiety.
Then, at the beginning of March, I understood just how isolated Americans had become from the rest of the world. My fear increased. Every evening, as I watched tv with my husband, time was taken away from the news. For a little while, concern for things happening in the “New America”, were replaced by laughter that came from the shows we were watching. My energy was also centered on learning how to wire wrap a beaded necklace. The matte chakra beads, that had called to me the very first day at the Tucson Gem and mineral show, were what I decided to use for my March project.
The second full week of March (as the markets continued to drop and my worry about the economy started) my husband and I began instruction on how to hand build pottery. During those first three hours of class, my thoughts centered on the way the clay felt in my hands and the piece I was building. My pots might not end up being the most beautiful of objects, but the therapeutic benefits of the process are highly recommended!
The second week of class, I took too long to make my coils. I took them home, along with extra clay, to finish my project. Of the three pieces I made, this is least favored by me; once they are all fired and glazed my opinion might change.
My fear continued to ramp up while listening to the news, yet calm during the later part of the day when my focus was elsewhere. Then, on March 16, the local chapter of INDIVISIBLE had in-person meeting and I attended. Surrounded by other people who are not happy with the things that are happening in this country, made me feel better; something switched inside of me. That same week, my chakra necklace was completed. Now it is the end of March. The path of where we are headed, as a nation, is not clear. I’m still angry and fearful: freedoms seem to be waning and history might be erased, but now I no longer feel alone.
Well over a year ago, knowing my enjoyment of beading, my husband said to me: “You should go to the Tucson Gem And Mineral Show”. The summer of 2024 came and my spouse asked: “have you looked into the show in Arizona?”. My response was “No, but I will”. After a little research into the largest gem show in the world, I told my other half that it looked overwhelming and it probably wasn’t for me. He was surprised and then said “Aren’t there any jewelry workshops you can take?” I did some more investigating and found that he was right….
At the end of January, my husband and I traveled to Arizona. We spent a few days in Sedona, hiking and touring the high desert. The colors of the ancient red rocks, once under a sea, were breathtaking! Walking through this desert was somewhat like walking into a painting.
When our time in Sedona was over, we drove to Tucson. I spent a day and a half in two workshops, but neither of the things I made could become my creative piece for the month.
The first day was a water casting class. Water casting is a process where metal is melted and cast into a bowl of water, the water essentially freezes the metal to create an organic form. We made “cups”. This process was learned, but so much more was involved: hammering the metal; making a bail (the piece that attaches a pendent to a chain); then soldering everything (including a bezel cup) to the transformed silver shape; lastly, the gemstones were secured.
February 2, 2025: Water Casting
This piece couldn’t be my creative project for the month, as it wasn’t solely my work. I needed to use a bail that the instructor had on hand. My connector was too small; this is something to work on: finding the sweet spot where the chain fits through the loop, yet the bail isn’t too large. The class ran overtime by at least an hour. The last things to place were the gemstones. My bezel work is slow, so I had help to complete the pendent.
The second day, was learning to solder fine chain; this was a shorter class, with the same instructor. I had been looking for a class like this. We learned how to attach a jump ring to a premade chain, by soldering it together without melting everything. Again, this workshop provided much more than just learning the initial process: a hammered circle was made; it was attached to the chain where I had soldered the jump rings, then the circle was fused shut. Finally a bezel cup was joined to the circle and a gemstone was secured as very last step.
February 3, 2025: Soldering Fine Chain
Our workshop went overtime by about an hour or more. Once again, help was needed securing the stone. Since I had some help with this necklace, it also couldn’t be my creative project for the month.
Although the Tucson Gem and Mineral Show was as overwhelming as it looked, I would absolutely go again, if only to participate in some wonderful classes! Attending only one location was my goal. However, my husband and I decided to go to one of the “Big 3” together; it was the 22nd Street Mineral & Fossil Show and well worth the time.
My spouse and I spent a few more days in Tucson, exploring the area and the desert that surrounds it. The Sonoran Desert has a very different landscape from the high desert in Sedona; the colors are mute in comparison, with rugged mountains, and plenty of cacti. The arid landscape is beautiful in its own way.
After over a week away, our time in Arizona came to an end. Once settled back into routine, I wanted to practice my soldering skills and make something special for my daughter’s birthday; it needed to mean something to both of us….
Along with the dinosaur-like bird from my January story ( https://tell-me-your-story.org/2025/02/01/my-year-of-creativity/ ), I had two more metal cutouts that sat on my workbench for months. These pieces of metal were from jewelry made last summer (the first being the heron pendant in my last post).
Each time my youngest came home this past fall, she said: “you should make something with those”, referring to the tree and the bird. As I mulled over what to make for her birthday, I realized that the tree was somewhat a symbol of the many adventures we had together.
One of many road trips taken with my youngest child in the summer of 2022. This was on the Georgian Bay in Ontario, Canada. Do you know which tree I used for the wearable art?
For my daughter’s present, a necklace and pendent (both applied with patina) were created. The bail is too big, but eventually it will be fixed.
“If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again”
-Saying attributed to William Edward Hickson
2nd month complete
(The story took longer than anticipated, but the present was finished on February 21st)
A few years ago, I decided to learn how to work with fine metal to create wearable art. My first teacher told us: “look to nature for inspiration”. Loving to take pictures of the world around me, I took this to heart.
I took a few jewelry classes and found that hammering and sawing are my favorite ways to transform a blank sheet of metal into a story. The procedure of finding the right picture, manipulating it to make my design, and then actually create something with those images, brings me joy (probably after some frustration).
I’m learning, it’s a process….
Over the summer of 2024, I took some tools to my summer home. Our cottage is on a lake, yet surrounded by trees. My torches, that would allow me to solder any metal, stayed at home. I made a few creations, using my photographs. The following is one of those pictures.
This picture inspired two pieces.
“Experience is the name we give to our mistakes.”
-Oscar Wilde
The cut out dinosaur-like bird sat on my work bench for months. I had an idea of what I needed to do to fix it, but didn’t have the nerve; it would require soldering some wire to the silver to fix the beak. I was afraid, because the tendency to melt my metal with the fiery torch is great. In December, I decided that my New Years resolution for 2025 would be to complete at least one creative project each month.
I took an intensive soldering course in January. I made nothing, but learned a lot. The class be me a little more confidence. A week later I got up my nerve and finished the pendent.
Since little I always lived a very fast life sometimes I wonder if anyone could relate to what I’ve experienced
I was a very weird and quiet kid curious about the whole world and others I always got treated as an outcast
My first memory as a kid is seeing the cops outside multiple times And knowing that my father acted out again I didn’t really understand it at the time
He was abusive and aggressive towards my mom I’ve seen a lot of violence, guns, and alcohol (he was a alcoholic) At a really young age I saw things i shouldn’t have
my father would throw things screamed be aggressive towards my mother and me and my brothers ( I have two brothers I’m the middle child)
I saw him fight my older brother once and he tried to fight me as well multiple times
Another traumatic thing that happened Was seeing my dog get shot in the head by our neighbor because he claimed he bit his son.. I was only 12 And went to school the next day as if nothing happened later on we found out he’s done it before to somebody else
At 15 I dropped out I hated school I was being bullied girls wanted to fight me for guys Guys only wanted to use me and Bully me I just wanted to feel loved.. being outcasted again I didn’t understand why it felt like the world was against me sometimes
So I rebelled I met my first bf who was abused We would steal together I would sneak out to see him or sneak him in (I got caught multiple times) And I would even run away and stay at his friends house just to see him (His mom was a crackhead and almost stabbed him) So we would all rebel together and run away A bunch of kids with abusive homes Wanting to feel loved and cared for But no home to go to
my bf also abused me mentally and physically Bad It still affects till this day of how I view people
I got pregnant at 16 But lost him because I was being abused That changed me forever I try not to think about it too much
The abuse went on for years until i decided that enough was enough I called the cops on him and finally he was gone
I didn’t have any friends so I went on dating apps to meet people And I met this guy It was going sooo good
We were talking for 5 months then I started noticing my body was changing I was pregnant again.. But it was by my abusive ex I had the worst suicidal thoughts ever It was a very dark time for me Memories of his abuse came back I was having nightmares of him coming back
I had to get a abortion that also changed me forever
Things changed with him after the whole pregnancy I could tell it scared him a little and later on On my Birthday he cut things off with me
Something died inside me that night Again I felt like the world was against me Why can’t I just have something good for once? Everything I loved being taken from me
Years go by I made a lot of friends I lost a lot of friends
I started making music and got a good amount of people listening to it My pain and suffering made me make my beautiful art Art Of freedom I like to call it I always wanted to feel free
I moved in with a group of friends into this party house
It became a house show where all the hardcore bands would play at We had people break our windows Our house was basically a junkie house With loud music
Our neighbors were scared of us A bunch of punk rock kids screaming till the night I don’t blame them for hating us We were a mess People thought we were on drugs (We weren’t) We were all just depressed lol We made history there In our home area
But traumatic things happened there as well A lot of disrespect and mental abuse from friends happened And Black magic I have a hard time trusting people because of it The house was also very haunted so it made it worse
Now I’m 23 Moved out of there Just got out of another mentally exhausting draining friendship I was living with Now I’m on my own journey I almost died 3 times recently I scare myself sometimes Mental health is a serious thing And I want to save others from it I’m gonna make art Music Maybe even write a book About my experience Looking for what’s next In my insane life that I don’t understand sometimes But it made me stronger I make music and art and poetry I feel insane A good insane A passionate one I sometimes feel like I have a calling to do something here Something big Something different I want to change the world I still feel like an outcast sometimes I’m still looking for the answers To understand this feeling I wonder what’s coming next for me..
(Please be something good now)
I want to save others from the abuse I suffered as no one could save me from it
I hope to be SEEN. HEARD. FELT
I’ll forever continue to rebel against everything I don’t believe is right for us humans until I die
The global pandemic took the earth off its axis. People were dying from COVID, others were mourning those who they had lost. I was fortunate, nobody close to me suffered from the illness. Along with this crises many people became anxious and depressed. According to the Mayo Clinic “Worldwide surveys done in 2020 and 2021 found higher than typical levels of stress, insomnia, anxiety and depression (https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/coronavirus/in-depth/mental-health-covid-19/art-20482731). In many ways, I felt the rest of the world had caught up to my mental state from the previous year and a half. Having moved through mental distress for a long while, when my state and the rest of the country locked down, I just felt the quiet around me.
Our middle daughter stayed in extended care in Los Angeles, while the remainder of my immediate family was home. My husband and two other daughters dealt with with the stress of the pandemic in their own way. The neighborhood where we live, in the suburbs, borders on farm land; some people might say we live in the country. This location afforded the space to go on long walks almost every day. When COVID hit, we did not see Bailey (in person) for 4 months. That time was very much a respite for me. We talked with our child, on the west coast, every day and zoomed with her once a week. I was able to do things around the house that I had been putting off for years, but still stay connected to my child who was so far away. When we were finally given permission to go to California and see Bailey again, I was rested and ready to spend time with her….
Between the July 4th weekend and the end of August, in the summer of 2020, I made four trips to LA. I have many memories of that summer, but because we couldn’t spend a lot of time with Bailey (due to the treatment center’s COVID protocols) there was much time spent on my own. I walked countless miles by the water with my summer playlist strumming through my AirPods. On my walks, whether the ground was pavement or sand, the seed for this blog was planted. I would watch people. Each time I walked to Venice beach there would be a wizened woman, darkly tanned, most likely homeless, and I would wonder: ” What has led you here?”. One day, on my way to the beach beach, I was stopped by a man at the bus stop near my hotel. He was wondering why the bus hadn’t come and asked me the time. After telling him the time, he reached out and tried to give me a hug. I shrank back: did he not know there was a global pandemic? Again I thought, “What is your story?”.
The first summer trip to La La Land, was by myself. There was fear I would catch COVID on my flight, but flying during the pandemic was awesome: the planes were empty! I arrived in LA on July 3, 2020 I had a whole day ahead of me. Most of my trips between November and March had always been included a stop at The Native Spirit Lodge in Woodland Hills; my husband had discovered it on one of his trips by himself. This unique metaphysical shop became a favorite shop of mine. An old hobby, from my teenage years and early 20’s, of making beaded jewelry had been renewed. Fortunately, the lodge, which sold beads and all sorts of other items, had reopened for walk-in shopping. The traffic was light for the LA area, as many restrictions were still in place. I headed to my favorite store, had some lunch and then checked in to the hotel. During my March visit, I had decided that a place to reside in Marina del Rey would bring me joy: the location was a few blocks from the marina and a mile from the ocean.
The travel industry had changed in the months since I had been stationary: hotel rooms were cleaned and sanitized before arrival and then again after checking out. Many restaurants were closed or only open for takeout. Having traveled for so many months before the pandemic, I always stopped at a supermarket and bought food to help save money. If a bathroom was needed on a roadtrip, most likely there was one open in a grocery store or gas station (but not always).
Time with Bailey was limited. As she lived with several other girls, the fear of catching COVID, while away from the residence. was real. I know was able to spend both weekend days with Bailey, but the days that I write about are the most memorable…
The only things we could really do together were to an outdoor activity (that was not my middle child’s idea of fun) or car trips. A day on the road was the only option, but my question was: where should we drive? I was craving cooler air and a view of a lake; we spent Independence Day driving to and from the San Bernardino Mountains. The day moved pleasantly, Bailey was in a great mood and easy to talk to. Names of places, as we drove toward the mountains, were familiar. Most likely we stopped at a Jack-in-the-Box for lunch; that became a favorite take away spot, for us, that summer.
We arrived at our destination, a lakeside town, and didn’t leave the car. The amount of people was astounding! Traveling away from the lake, and up the hill, we looked down at the water. The view showed us wall to wall pontoon boats. During this day of celebration it appeared the pandemic was forgotten! Then, as we drove farther up, through the mountain neighborhoods, past beautiful houses and luxury cars, I got lost. We spotted a gaggle of teenagers, or early 20 somethings, roaming the narrow roads. Stopping the car, I asked for directions. Once we were given the new route, the young adult (at close proximity to the open window) said, “that’s a nice car”. As Bailey and I drove away, we laughed, not knowing if the compliment (on the basic rental car) was real or not, but the friendly helper seemed sincere. It was a good day!
The second trip to Los Angeles, in mid-summer of 2020, was with my husband and youngest daughter. On Saturday, with Bailey, we drove to Solvang; this was a suggestion of mine and not a great destination. When researching road-trips, it was on my list of places to visit: a “Danish village” in California. I should have known this place screamed “tourist trap”. As has been mentioned before, we only had limited time with Bailey….our drive to the not so sleepy little town took at least three hours. By the time we arrived, Solvang was not just our destination, but also that hundreds of other travelers! We had about an hour to walk around town. The day was hot, the streets were crowded, and always looming around us the thought “is anyone sick?”. My youngest daughter and I walked around more than Bailey and my husband, then it was time to head back to LA. On our long drive south, my husband said “we went all the way to a Danish town and I didn’t even get a Danish pastry!”
What I remember most about that weekend: were long walks on the beach with my 14 year old, looking for sand dollars and sea shells; a walk through the Venice canals; and vegetable Ramen. The soup needs an explanation…
…. My husband, youngest daughter and I were somewhat hungry our first night in LA, after a long day traveling. We didn’t want to walk far, as we had been up for hours, and our bodies were on east coast time. There was a strip mall, about a block from our hotel, with eateries. Not wanting something heavy, my daughter and I decided to try Venice Ramen. My significant other was not in the mood for soup, so he picked up dinner elsewhere. A table, in front of the restaurant, opened up for my daughter and me. The two of us sat, ordered our vegetable ramen, and waited for what we thought was going to be a quick meal from a ramen chain-restaurant; this was a wrong assumption. The sun was getting low in the sky, but still we sat. Our soup finally arrived and…. WOW! The “from scratch” Japanese broth, with vegetables and noodles, was worth the time we stayed watching the world go by! We still talk about this meal…
My final trip, by myself, to the City of Angeles was in mid-August. The time I spent on my own, was the same way as on past trips…a visit to The Native Spirit lodge and walking: either on the beach or around and through the marina. As I walked, happiness sprouted in me by the simplest of things: viewing the mighty Pacific when the waves rolled in, wild flowers that grew along the path, the way the sun looked as it rose in the morning…
Knowing Bailey would be coming home soon, I wanted to take a special road trip and visit something unique to the two of us. The event (per the summer of 2020 rules) had to be outside and socially distanced, yet would appeal to Bailey. In searching for places, online, I came upon the Mission San Juan Capistrano; this was about an hour drive south from the residence where my daughter lived. The mission looked like it might be a fun place visit: a story of the past, very pretty and was mostly outdoors. As promised, this lovely destination was full of history; it didn’t disappoint!
All of of the days Bailey and I had spent together during her time out west, in the year 2020, were noteworthy: we talked about many different things and and were able to be open with each other. So much had changed in the last 2 years!
The final trip to LA, in the pandemic summer, was to bring Bailey home. My husband and I flew to California on Tuesday, August 25 and returned (with our daughter) on Thursday, August 27.
I think of that summer as the “season of the sand dollars”. In the many visits to beaches, over my lifetime, I had never before found remains of these beautiful sea creatures; in the summer of 2020 there were more sand dollars than I could have imagined! Knowing there is often a symbolism behind certain phenomena, I looked up the significance of a sand dollar. The meanings surrounding this marine animals are diverse, but the one I connected with most was “a symbol of personal growth and transformation”. Although, I have always had self awareness, the time spent in therapy and on inward reflection changed me in ways I can’t describe. Despite life’s uncertainty, the ground finally felt solid beneath my feet.
To see the other parts of An Unexpected Journey, follow the links:
2020 started out on a positive note when Bailey decided to embrace “new year, new you”. We were told she was starting to do what she needed to do to help herself. Although I didn’t go to Los Angeles for a month following this news, the improvement in Bailey’s mood and spirit was evident through our phone calls and therapy sessions. When I reached the residence on Saturday, February 1st, one of the parents (who I had become friendly with) said: “You will be amazed by how much Bailey has changed!”. I was stunned! Before the new year, during Saturday morning family sessions, Bailey sat with her hoodie pulled up and barely spoke a word. That morning, in the parent/child group, Bailey was engaged and talkative, offering constructive comments and insights on herself and others; things had definitely improved! About a week after my visit, she moved from the residential treatment center back to the extended care house.
In mid-February, my husband youngest daughter and I went to visit Bailey. On the flight out to California, there was a medical emergency on the plane. We didn’t make an extra stop, nor did we find out what was wrong with the woman. In hindsight, I feel maybe it was the beginning of what was to come….
The first morning in LA, while Bailey was in school, we spent some time on Venice Beach. I don’t recall what we did with Bailey that weekend, most likely a road trip and a movie; the fact that I don’t remember means that it felt natural and good.
My next trip to LA was by myself, at the beginning of March. There were rumors that things were going to shut down because of something called the Coronavirus. I was worried that the planes in California were going to be grounded. Arrangements were made with my sister, that if my flight was canceled, I would drive my rental car to San Francisco to stay with her family; this was something small I could do to give me peace of mind. With the assurance that I had somewhere to go in case the inevitable happened, my weekend out west was thoroughly enjoyable.
A little thing I always did on my trips to LA was add some extra time just for me; this trip was no exception. After a morning swim on Friday, I spent time exploring a new area to me: Marina del Rey.
That evening, after family therapy, Bailey snd I went to dinner at a sushi restaurant where we tried sea urchin. Later, after a trip to Target, she showed me an area she liked to view at night.
On Saturday, we drove up the PCH to Santa Barbara to see the old mission. The two of us spent a really great weekend together!
By the time I visited in early March, our middle child had made such progress that we would be able to have an overnight with her on our next visit. If the overnight was successful, a weekend together was the next step. I started planning to venture farther than LA. The prospect of taking Bailey out of the city was exciting! At the end of our time together, when my goodbyes were said to my middle child, I didn’t realize it would be several months until we saw her (in person) again. Three days after I arrived home, it was evident that the world was going to close down: the stores were packed and an announcement was made that public schools were going to close. Then, for me, the quiet came and the world stopped….
To see the other parts of An Unexpected Journey, follow the links:
In December of 2019, as the days grew shorter, we realized Bailey wasn’t getting better; in fact, she was worse than we thought. Our middle child was put on new medicines, but these would take some time to start working. If it was within my means, I would do anything to help my middle child. Besides going to LA and spending time with our daughter, there wasn’t much more that I could do. Speaking with my therapist, she suggested I talk with someone she knew who might be able to help: a holistic healer. My thoughts were skeptical, but needing to do something, I reached out to this woman who said she could help heal my child from a distance. Perhaps this was an aspiration. However, if a little thing would help Bailey, maybe this was it. I still had hope. The holistic healer was hired, and the first appointment was held on December 12. When the session ended, I asked how long it would take to see a change in Bailey. The answer “about 3 weeks”.
As we moved toward winter solstice, darkness slammed into us. My husband and I were told we would need to look for a long-term residential treatment center for our child. Again, this was taking us down a path unimagined.
What would a long-term treatment program look like? This was something I needed to know, but didn’t want to find out what it entailed. We received this information mid-December. I was trying my hardest to plan a nice a trip out west for Christmas. A hotel had been booked: a room for my oldest and youngest daughters and a room for my husband and me; it was in a good location near stores and restaurants and within walking distance of the residence where Bailey was living. I had made reservations for a late lunch on Christmas Day, at a Jewish deli, as it was the one restaurant in the area that was open. My sister and her family were hoping to drive down from San Francisco to LA the day after Christmas to be with us for part of our time out west……would Bailey still be in California?
We kept our reservations and had our fingers crossed that everything would come together as planned. Gifts had been bought, but our most important tradition of making Christmas cookie hadn’t been completed. When my first born arrived home from college she took the reins and made sure we had Christmas cookies for us to decorate.
Our search for a long term treatment center had barely begun when the Christmas holiday was upon us. Bailey stayed in California. We arrived the day before day Christmas. The week we spent in the San Fernando Valley was excruciating at times. Bailey was very unstable; all she wanted to do was to go home and kill herself. Luckily my sister, her husband, and their two teenage boys came down the evening of December 26 and added the distraction my oldest and youngest daughters needed. Although I enjoyed our times as a nuclear family, before and after the arrival of my extended family, Bailey’s sisters needed more than just my husband and me. I found solace during my early morning swims (in the 40° darkness under the stars, with only the pool lights to see onto the deck). However, the arrival of my sister’s family also added the extra layer of levity I needed…
Christmas week in pictures
On New Year’s Eve we came home from California. Either that night, or New Years’s day, we received a call from Bailey’s therapist: she had turned a corner. She had decided to embrace “new year, new you” and was starting to do what she needed to do to help herself. Whether it was the new medicines taking effect, the support she received from her extended family or something else, we will never know. Perhaps the strength that had allowed Bailey to stay alive all of this time, through the years of depression, had finally come through in full force. Whatever it was, the stars aligned and we were so thankful!
In early August, many of our conversations focused around Bailey going to an extended care program before coming home; this would be with the same treatment center. At one point, Bailey said, “the only reason you think I should go is because it is better for you”. I tried to explain how it would be a good segue from residential care into normal life: we wanted her to have a healthy transition so that she would be in the best place possible when she came home. Frankly, I wasn’t sure Bailey was ready to come home. She had a way of misleading people into believing all was well when it wasn’t….in the end Bailey moved to extended care.
I missed Bailey, but maybe her words “it would be better for you” rang true. Perhaps knowing she was somewhere safe was what I needed to focus on my own healing; it hadn’t occurred to me how the “trauma” from my past had taken a toll on me. Actually, I hadn’t thought of all the hard things I went through as trauma. Late in the summer, as schools were already in session, I realized that running, swimming, yoga and talk therapy were only helping me feel a little better. Were the tears that were always ready to flow partly due to my changing hormones? Mid September was the time when I had my women’s wellness check. Sobbing when I saw my gynecologist of 21 years, my story was told. She put me put me on Zoloft. I also started energy healing along with traditional therapy. The Zoloft calmed the anxiety I felt for my middle child. Energy healing helped me let go of things I was holding deep inside myself.
October began with my mother, husband, youngest daughter and me flying to LA to celebrate Bailey’s 16th birthday. The weather was beautiful! We were staying in a new area of LA. Our first full day was without our middle child. We spent a good part of that day at the Getty Museum.
We picked up Bailey on Saturday morning and she appeared to be doing well. There seemed to be enthusiasm about spending her down time with us: driving around the city; taking in a museum; hanging out and playing cards.
The Museum of Death was the place of interest that we decided to visit with Bailey. Permission was given from the treatment center. In hindsight, this might not have been the best choice.
Her grandmother treated us all to a wonderful dinner to celebrate Bailey’s birthday. One afternoon we brought cake to the hotel. Then our time with Bailey was over for awhile…my next trip was not for a month.
When the leaves on the trees started their transformation from greens to the bright autumn hues, my mindset also began to change. The weekend before Halloween I took a solo trip to visit my eldest daughter, who was a Sophomore in college; this was I knew something had altered for me. I had planned my weekend around long walks with and without my daughter. For a few weeks I hadn’t been running because my knee had been bothering me, so a hotel with a pool had been booked. I arrived on a Thursday night. Friday morning I met my daughter for breakfast. My plans were set for the day: first breakfast, then a long walk to make returns that I hadn’t had time to do at the stores near home. The walk was at least five miles round trip. After breakfast I said goodbye to my adult child until that evening. The day was beautiful and very warm for a fall day in Massachusetts. Enjoying my walk, I was about a mile from the stores when my knee buckled and took me down to the ground. With the pain surging through my knee I sat on someone’s stairs in the middle of Somerville, MA. Eventually the pain lessened. I got up and decided to hobble the rest of the way to Assembly Row. Once I reached the the Mystic River, near the shops, I calmly installed the Lyft App, then went into the stores to return my things. The 2.5 mile walk back to the parking garage where my car was parked wouldn’t be happening.
Although, I was in pain and spent a good part of the afternoon icing my knee and resting, a satisfaction of sorts settled over me: with the exception of not having a great walk, everything I set out to do had been accomplished. An appointment with the orthopedic surgeon was made. Also, I learned how to use a Lyft. The last thing may seem extremely small, but every time I learn something new I hear my dad’s voice in my head: “It’s good to learn something new every day”.
That evening, I met my daughter and her boyfriend, at the university, and walked into town for dinner. Sadly, the dinner was interrupted; it was necessary to talk with someone at Bailey’s treatment facility. Once again, my thoughts were divided between the conversation at the dinner table and my concern for my middle child out west. For the second time, I felt sad that the small amount of time I had to get to know my daughter’s significant other was interrupted. Although I knew my child in LA was going back to in treatment care, my college age daughter and I enjoyed the rest of our weekend together. We took a road trip on Saturday to Marblehead. Sunday we met for brunch, then I made the long drive home in the pouring rain.
Between my weekend drive to Massachusetts and my flight at the end of the week to LA, I was able to see the orthopedic surgeon about my knee. On my visit I was informed that there was “severe arthritis behind each knee cap”. My main question of the doctor was “Will I be able to run anymore?” He gave me a look and said, “What do you think?”. Obviously the answer was “no”. “Just another ending, another thing to mourn”, was my thought that fall day. I had been running for 33 years. I was not old, just 51, but I had known for a long time my knees would give up on me. For so many years I ran through worst things to happen in life. I could’ve railed against the unfairness of this news, along with everything else that was happening/ had happened in my life. Walking through the hard things and stopping to face them was something I knew could be done. As much as it hurt to stop running, I didn’t break. There was pleasure taken in my growth to be able to stand up to the bad; this is how recognizing joy the little things began for me: to take something negative and find the positive…..
To see the other parts of An Unexpected Journey, follow the links:
In the summer of 2018, our middle child (Bay) told us he was severely depressed with extreme suicidal ideation. For almost a year, I woke up every morning dreading that Bay had taken his life while we slept. I was anxious and sad for my child. Time was spent seeking joy: I ran, swam, and did yoga. Friends would walk and talk with me. My husband, youngest daughter and I laughed for many months with the show Schitt’s Creek. As a family we took road trips. Although I didn’t see it at the time, all these things, small as they were, helped me wade through that dark time: I was chasing Joy, but it remained elusive.
A year later, in the summer of 2019, Bay was in a treatment center in Los Angeles, California for his mental health. July began with my husband and I traveling to California together from our summer residence in Muskoka, Ontario. Our eldest daughter was living at home for the summer. Our youngest was at camp a few hours away from our cottage.
We arrived in the City of Angels on July 5; that afternoon we met with our son and his therapist. In that session, our middle childth old us that he was transgender and would now be using the pronouns “she” and “her”. Bay wanted to “come out” to her sisters and grandparents herself. For the time being, my husband and I kept it a secret from most of our family members. When we talked about Bay with our family and friends, she was our son and the male pronouns still applied. My husband and I were trying hard to use the correct pronouns when we talked with each other, Bay, and anyone associated with the treatment center. We also learned that our child was trying to decide on a new name, eventually Bay became Bailey.
Almost every other weekend either my husband or I flew from Toronto to Los Angeles; these trips were solo. However, on August 1, 2019, my husband, youngest daughter and I flew to Los Angeles where we met our eldest daughter who had arrived several hours earlier. This was the weekend Bailey was going would reveal herself to her siblings.
I would have liked this trip to be purely for pleasure; it was the first time our two other children had been to California. We tried to add some fun experiences during our trek out west. The first morning we were in LA, was Friday. Family therapy was scheduled for that afternoon, so we took our oldest and youngest daughters to El Matador State Beach, in Malibu and then to lunch at the Santa Monica Boardwalk.
After our morning and early afternoon out, it was time for family therapy. I don’t remember much of that hour when Bailey came out to her sisters. Also, there is no memory of how she presented her news. What I do remember is my eldest, who was and is very enlightened, was not able to wrap her mind around the announcement that her middle sibling made. My youngest just seemed to absorb the information. I’m sure there were tears and questions, but the memory escapes me.
Although we talked with Bailey every day while she was in treatment, we could only see her Saturdays or for family therapy. On Saturdays, after a morning group therapy sessions at the residence, there was lunch (if we chose to stay). Bailey was allowed to spend time away from the house with us; the break from the center could be a few to several hours.
The Saturday Bailey’s sisters were in Los Angeles was rough. While my husband and I were in our parent group, Bailey’s sisters arrived early, hoping to spend a little time with her. Apparently, she engaged very little with them. After lunch Bailey didn’t have any solid thoughts on what we should do during her time with us. She had suggested “window” shopping to my husband the previous weekend. I proposed we drive through Beverly Hills and walk down Rodeo Drive, as it is unique to LA. We didn’t plan to buy anything, but I thought it might be fun; this wasn’t the best idea. We spent maybe an hour on Rodeo drive. Bailey went into the stores that we went into. In the last store, however, I pointed to an outfit and said “Bailey, this outfit would look good on you, because you are tall and thin”. Within a minute she left the store and joined my husband outside. My 13-year-old later said, she thought Bailey would have preferred to stay at the house.
We drove around LA and had a good sushi dinner not far from the house where Bailey was living. We thought she appreciated it. After dinner, as we headed to have ice cream, we passed a few teenage couples. Bailey said, “I really don’t like teenagers”. My eldest responded, “I hate to point out that you are a teenager”. My middle child responded with “Yes, and I don’t like myself”; it felt as though Bailey had relapsed.
Our last day in LA we didn’t see Bailey. Our time to visit with her was over. The rest of us tried to enjoy more of what LA had to offer. We attempted to hike to the Hollywood sign. About an hour and a half into the hike we were extremely hot and didn’t seem to be close to where the hike was going to take us, so we turned back. Besides, there was a three-hour limit on our parking space.
Finishing our hike we decided to try In-N-Out Burger, as none of us had ever been to one: it was very crowded and nothing special…after lunch we went to Venice Beach. The sand was burning hot; because of this, my daughters and I had a clear path to run to the ocean, while my husband waited for us on the opposite side of the beach. We didn’t spend much time on the beach but strolled through the Hare Krishna Festival, walked along the board walk and saw some interesting buildings on our way to the car.
We arrived back at the hotel knowing this was our last night in sunny California. Our moods were anything but sunny, I think we all felt deflated. The next morning, at the airport, my husband, youngest child and I said goodbye to our eldest. The anticipated “family trip” had come to an end with each of us carrying our own burden. Even though we tried to engage in enjoyable activities, the purpose of our trip wasn’t for joy. We were there for love: to support and see Bailey.
To see the other parts of An Unexpected Journey, follow the links:
On the 10th of the month, we received word that a good family friend from Toronto had passed away. She had been in my life since I was very young and was one of my mother’s closest friends. Our families were (and still are) somewhat intertwined in the history we have with one another. I always considered this wonderful woman and her extended clan a part of my family.
A little more than three weeks after our friend died, it became apparent that we needed to help our beloved dog, Murphy, go over the Rainbow Bridge. He was just a puppy when he became a member of our family in August of 2009. Murphy had a good life and at 14 1/2, our dog was in extreme pain. Everyone knew it was time to let him go, but I wanted just a little more time with him; this wasn’t meant to be. The day before Thanksgiving, with his family by his side, he took his last breath.
I wasn’t ready for either of these losses. The deaths, on top of other things that were happening, made it difficult for me to find joy. I had momentarily forgotten how to rejoice in the simple moments or find the tranquility in something that might seem insignificant.
The Sunday after Thanksgiving, my youngest daughter and I drove north with my mother. We were headed to Toronto to attend our friend’s funeral. My sister, who arrived the day before, was waiting for us at the hotel when we reached the city. In addition to being sad, I was stressed. The traffic was awful (due to road work as well as a Christmas parade). I was afraid we might not make it to the visitation that afternoon. Luckily, all went according to plan, but I didn’t feel any better.
The next morning, being an early riser, I planned to walk to the nearest Starbucks and arrive when it opened at 6 AM. Around 5:30, I went down to the lobby with my coat and mittens (my hat having been forgotten at home). Coffee was just being set up. I decided not to go to the coffee house but went for a walk anyway. The fresh air would be good for me. The morning was brisk, about 16°F and a light snow was falling. The city was quiet, the roadwork on Bloor Street had not started up for the day. Despite the torn-up streets, there was something magical that morning. With the shops lit for Christmas and the snow lightly falling in the crisp morning air, I felt a calmness wash over me. I walked about two miles that morning, until my ears were unable to stand the freezing weather. That time outside was more than just a good stretch for my legs: with that walk, I was reminded how I learned to find joy in the little things….
Authors Note: Stay tuned for the next segment of this story: it will be released somewhat like an old-fashioned serial.
To see Part 1, 2, 3 and 4 of An Unexpected Journey, follow the links:
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