Last Tuesday, shortly after my three hour pottery class had ended, I found out that it was “World Art Day”. Apparently, every April 15, the fine arts are recognized and awareness of creativity worldwide is promoted. In 2012 The IAA/AIAP and UNESCO started this day of celebration, to coincide with Leonardo da Vinci’s birthday. Finding out that I had unknowingly marked this special day made me happy.
From an early age, I wanted to be an artist: my passion was to do anything creative painting, drawing, sewing… The dream never came to fruition. Dabbling in the arts is what I have done throughout my life. Here is my story:
There was not a great deal of talent when it came to figure drawing, but I didn’t notice or care.
My favorite pastime when I was little, was sewing. I learned to use a needle and thread at a young age. Many hours were spent creating plush animals.
At the age of 12, I made my first earrings by drilling holes in two Canadian dimes with a push drill. Not really know how to insert the drill bit properly, at one point the drill slipped and the bit went through the flesh of my middle finger. I persevered and finished the holes the same evening. They earrings were basic, with some metal ear wires.
I remade these earrings, probably in my early 20’s, they now belong to my youngest daughter.
In college I had no idea what my focus of study should be. Stupidly I chose English as my major, because I loved to read and write, art was my minor because creating had always been a part of who I was.
The studio art classes were my favorite. My sophomore year, I took silk screening. I spent hours in the art studio working on my projects. The process of figuring out what the image was going to be, preparing the screen and using the inks in layers, to create a print, was so much fun!
This was a project for class, I think we needed to choose something from current events, so I chose the AIDS Crises, as there were still so many questions around this disease.
This picture of my print is poor. The words around the figure say this: Top: Is the blood Supply Really Safe? Left: Can You Touch Someone Who Has AIDS? Right: AIDS and “straights” Bottom: Will you get AIDS from kissing?
At the very bottom: “‘ THERE ARE NO MORAL OR IMMORAL DISEASES…. ILLNESS IS NOT A PUNISHMENT FOR SIN” -HA. Katchadourian
I studied in London my junior year of college. The first semester I took a photography class, this was before digital cameras. The pictures were shot in black and white, as part of the class was learned to develop the film.
Here are a few of my photographs:
I became a volunteer with the Jesuit Volunteer corps, late in the summer, after graduating from college. My job was working with young children in a federally funded research project. Apparently, I continued not try my hand at some simplistic renderings …here are some things I found from that year:
I worked for two years as an assistant teacher, then went back to school and received my Master’s Of Education. My course of study specialized in teaching through the arts. The idea of this program was to incorporate art into every aspect of learning. Unfortunately, I found this was hard to do in public education and in most school settings.
I had one great year, teaching Kindergarten at a day care, where I created my whole curriculum and was able to use what I learned in school. The pay was poor, the hours were long, but I enjoyed the work. At the end of the year, I moved to another state.
The year before my kindergarten position, I spent substitute teaching. For a little while, one evening a week was spent at a quilting class. Once again I found myself working with Fiber Art.
Time went by. I focused on teaching, was married and separated with a child on the way. Just before my daughter turned one, I found myself spending hours in my garden while she was with her father. Gardening was therapeutic and I had no desire to go back to teaching, thus landscape design caught my interest. The fall after my only child (at the time) turned one and my divorce was final, I started taking classes that would fulfill my need for creativity and perhaps lead to a future career.
Various projects worked on throughout the class.
I loved the classes, and did well on my projects. Then I learned the hard truth of working as a landscape designer: “You need to be able to sell yourself” and that wasn’t my strong point.
Just after 9/11, the year I took my landscape classes, I met my husband. We were married a little over a year after we met. Life went on and there was little time to think or work on my own creative endeavors. Lack of artistic undertakings didn’t phase me because, despite some hard times, I loved my life and my family.
In 2018 life took us on a roller coaster ride By mid 2019 I found myself needing a creative outlet, and I started working with beads and jewelry once again. Many necklaces were made between 2019 and 2022.
During COVID, along with the beginning of beadwork, I started crocheting a king size blanket; it was finished it late in 2020.
In the fall of 2022, I discovered a jewelry center that offered classes, My first class was a four week class teaching us how to saw, rivet and patina silver nickel. Ee could create a large pendant or key chain. With that class I was hooked!
I have continued to take metal classes and work on jewelry in my own time. For now, wearable art is my creative outlet of choice.
Many different artistic pursuits have been tried over the years. I have never stuck with one long enough to perfect the art form. This is why I call myself a dabbler. Could I call myself an artist if a focus was chosen and continually practiced? Perhaps. Maybe if my newest pursuit continues, in 20 years (at the age of 76), I will allow myself the title.
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
In memory of the victims of PAN AM Flight 103. This was originally written in December 2018 on the 30th anniversary of the Lockerbie Bombing. Today marks the 36th year of this terrorist attack…
I Remember
The fall of my Junior year in college, I left my college in New Jersey to study with Syracuse University in London. I had applied to the Syracuse program because I needed a change from my college, which had begun feeling small.
I wanted to spend a year in London, but was afraid I would be homesick. I fully intended to meet friends from my hometown and travel during Winter break. The Syracuse program gave me the opportunity to extend my stay to a year if I was happy. About two weeks in to my semester in London I decided to stay for the full year.
I loved my time in London. I cannot put into words what a wonderful and exciting experience it was for all of us who studied there. We were young, practically still children, full of hopes and dreams.
30 years ago today the dreams were taken from 35 of my fellow students. The tragedy of Pan Am flight 103 changed all who it touched. For those people who were connected to the disaster over Lockerbie, Scotland: I remember.
Pictures flow through my mind…
Traveling for the first few days of winter break with my roommate, Deirdre
Leaving London
Traveling to Amsterdam, Cologne, Munster, Brugge and Brussels
Arriving at the Brussels train station where Deirdre and I would part ways:
She to a family she knew in Belgium,
I back to London to meet with friends for Christmas.
Liz, at the train station saying “There has been an accident on one of the planes”
Me stupidly saying “was anyone hurt?”
Being told, “Everyone is dead.”
Darkness fell,
Walking from the Syracuse center after laying flowers on the steps…
Being approached by another student “Sarah, thank God…I did not know your last name, there was another Sarah from our program on flight 103.”
Slowly finding out who I had known:
Ken Bissett, who sat next to me on the flight to London and was supposed to return for spring semester…
Miriam Wolf with her vibrant hair and welcoming personality.
The others: Pamela, from Bowden; Turhan;the Cocker twins…
Feeling guilty that I had not been on the plane.
Lighting candles all over Europe, In remembrance for those that had died.
Moving through the dark. Finding light. Letting go of the guilt.
Follow the links at the bottom of this story to read it from the beginning.
This past September, as the summer turned to fall, my husband and I started forging a new path together. When my spouse met me, I was a divorced, single mother with a toddler and two cats. We are now “empty nesters” in the true sense of the word and for the first time in the whole of our relationship: our children have all flown the nest and we have no pets left to care for.
Looking back on the unexpected turn that took place within our family 6 years ago, I realize that this is what it means to be alive. Life in itself is a journey. Some people just have a rockier road to travel, before they find smooth ground. Often there will be great things to see along life’s path and then you hit a bump…
In the summer of 2023, I came across this poem by Becky Hemsley, which I feel describes the journey of life beautifully:
The family member who took us on our unexpected journey was our middle child. For awhile, we had three daughters. However, life is constantly changing. Now, five and a half years later, we have a son again. Bailey is detransitioning back to Bay; it is important to understand that Bay becoming Bailey wasn’t a lie. Our child didn’t become female because it was a “fad”. In 2019 Bay began to identify as female. The way I understand his transition to becoming female is this: The years of extreme depression Bay suffered, contributed to feelings of gender dysphoria; this caused a disconnection from his body. As a coping mechanism he began to identify with the female gender. As was explained in Part 4 of The Unexpected Journey (Summer of Loons), gender is a spectrum. For some months now, Bay has been feeling androgynous to male and this is part of why he is detransitioning. Feminizing hormones were taken by Bay, but he never underwent any gender affirming surgery. His physical detransition won’t be hard.
Over six years have passed since we found out our middle child was depressed with extreme suicidal ideation. Then, five and a half years ago, we were told we had a third daughter. Today, I am a stronger person than I was when Bay took us down this hard road. My life feels full. Our three children, all young adults, are healthy and happy. The “baby”of the family has surprised us by coming home more than we anticipated. However, the house is quiet most of the time. My husband and I have been through so much over our 21 years of marriage. Together, we continue to make our way along the ever-changing road.
To see the other parts of An Unexpected Journey, follow the links:
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.
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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….
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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…..
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