journey – Tell Me Your Story

My Year Of Creativity (October 2025)

Unedited

Authors note: This story begins with a continuation from my September story, if it is not read, you may feel a little lost, here is the link to that story: https://tell-me-your-story.org/2025/10/21/my-year-of-creativity-september-2025/

On October 1, 2025, I awoke at Ghost Ranch to two pieces of news: the first bit of information was not surprising: the U.S. government had shut down in the wee hours of the morning. The second fact was a text, from Kay, saying: “Sadly I have to go home. That’s the only remedy. I’m already in Albuquerque at the airport…”. The altitude was too high for my friend.

I was angry with myself for not staying at the hospital and taking Kay to the airport. Although grateful for the time we spent together, my heart broke for her. She had planned this getaway as a celebration for a momentous occasion in her life. However, my friend had given me a gift: being invited to travel with her, to this magical place, is an experience I will always treasure.

For me, the first day of October began well before the sun rose. Eventually people in the lodging around me began to awaken. The first person to greet me was one of the women from my class that had become a friend in the few days since we had met. She had traveled from Albuquerque to attend the silversmithing workshop. As I relayed that my roommate had left the ranch, my confusion over the high security in the Española hospital was also expressed. She was sorry Kay had departed. My classmate then confirmed that the bewilderment and somewhat of an uneasy feeling, from the night before at the hospital, was warranted: the unassuming town is considered to be the drug capital of the New Mexico.

Although Kay had left, I wasn’t alone. People at the ranch were welcoming and most meals were eaten with my two friend from class, one woman from Kay’s workshop, as well as various others that were met during our stay. The last three days at Ghost Ranch were busier than the first two; evening hours were spent the at the art studio.

Thursday night I finished my second piece of jewelry: a bracelet with a beveled stone:

Although, still quite a challenge, the process of setting a stone is becoming a little easier. Every time I take a class, in a new location, there are different techniques used; this time I learned to use sawdust underneath the stone to help make it sit properly.

Friday, October 3 was my last full day at the ranch. We had three hours of class that day. Knowing there was not enough time to make something big, I spent my time playing with wire. A ring was made:

This is a different type of ring for me. I am still trying to decide if I like it.

When classwork was finished, we broke for lunch then returned to clean the studio. That evening there was an art show displaying pieces form the various workshops which included: Introduction to Southwest Silversmithing, Visual Journaling, Batik, and Painting (in the style of Georgia O’Keefe?).

Pictures from the Intro to Silversmithing Class portion of the art show. My work is in the middle and those of my two friends are on either side.

Our time was almost over. I have traveled many places, in this country and abroad. The canyon, where Ghost Ranch resides, might be at the top of the list for the most beautiful spot!

Saying goodbye to my Texan friend on Friday night, I wished her well and gave her a hug. Very early Saturday morning, I bid adieu to my friend who lives in Albuquerque, also with an embrace and then was off to the airport.

The trip home was uneventful; there were no flight delays this early in the government shut down. I had time to watch two movies. One film, downloaded before leaving for New Mexico, was The Trial of the Chicago 7; it looked like a suspenseful drama. Shortly after the video started to play, I recognized the name Abbie Hoffman and realized this was based on an event that occurred shortly after my birth.

There were times while watching this historical American legal drama, that I could barely breathe. The protests that led to these men being charged were shown as peaceful. However, the people at the rally were met with extreme police brutality that created a riot. Everything about the trial was taxing and I wondered if Hollywood had sensationalized it. Apparently it was worse in real life. According to time.com,”The Trial of the Chicago 7 Is a Riveting Movie. But the True Story Is Even More Dramatic”(https://time.com/5900527/trial-of-the-chicago-7-true-story/). Bobby Seale was treated so savagely that I felt sick. You might wonder “why didn’t you stop watching the movie?”. The answer is simple: it showed a part of history. Our past should never be ignored for it is the only way to learn from humanity’s mistakes.

The next movie was a light hearted comedy. By the time my plane landed, my nerves were less strained. My husband picked me up at the airport and we talked about our lives since we had last been together. As I got ready for bed, still thinking about the movie from earlier in the day, I felt relieved that we would be in Canada for the next “No Kings ” protest. We were headed to Lake George, New York to spend time with our daughters and then on to our cottage in Muskoka for a week…

Plans sometimes need to be revised, as was evident the next day when my husband tested positive for COVID. We decided that I would head to New York on my own. Our trip to Ontario was canceled. Five days later I was on my way to Lake George. A relaxing long weekend was spent with my two daughters, the boyfriend of my eldest, and their dog.

Although disappointed that my husband and I wouldn’t be heading north of the border, the knowledge that my spaces in our home were a mess did not escape me. Between unpacking and repacking from my summer away, a trip three weeks after I returned home and then this trip, there was some organizing to do.

Traveling home on October 15th, from New York, there was also a decision to be made: would I join the next “No Kings” protests? Both the “Hands Off ” movement in April and the first “No Kings” rally in June had been attended. But this one seemed bigger and more dangerous.

The news was reporting of tear gas being deployed into Chicago’s peaceful protests. Reports of pepper spray being used on nonviolent opposition were also circulating. Knowing that in my county, both the sheriff and county councilman were clearly in line with agenda of the current administration (due to videos they had posted) didn’t make me feel safe. However, having listened to Heather Cox Richardson’s political chat the night before, her words ran through my head: “if you are worried about exercising your free speech and not using it, then you have already lost it”… A resolution was made that if a friend was going, I would go too.

Thursday, while unpacking, I got in touch with friends to see if they would be around for the protest Saturday. Everyone was busy. The thought of going to the protest alone scared me. Technically, a decision had been made because there was no one to go with. Maybe I gave up to soon?

Friday morning, the words from HCR were still in my head. Really, a familiar face was what was needed, someone known that would stand in solidarity with me. There were some like minded women that I knew, but was not close to. I reached out anyway.

In the end, I showed up to the “No Kings” protest. The smiling face of my first husband’s newest ex-wife was there to greet me. The two of us stood in solidarity with about 3000 other people, which had most likely doubled from the amount from June. We were there for America, to show up for our neighbors and to speak out against an administration that is trying to destroy democracy. I waved my American flag. There was joy and unity; chanting and singing; costumes and signs.

Signs and Costumes

“Offred’s” sign reads:

Now I’m awake to the world. I was asleep before. That’s how we let it happen. When they slaughtered Congress, we didn’t wake up. When they blamed terrorists and suspended the Constitution, we didn’t wake up then either. They said it would be temporary. Nothing changes instantaneously. In a gradually heating bathtub, you’d be boiled to death before you knew it.

-Margaret Atwood

…then the dinosaurs danced.

I was happy to be part of the “No Kings” rally, and thankful to stand with someone known to me. This time there was no reason to be scared, but what about the next time? Currently, in this country, we still have the right to speak our grievances but that could change. There is more to be done. In my own quiet way I am trying to push back.

For me, the final 13 days of October were uneventful. The news continued to report terrible things: the AI-generated bombing of excrement on protestors; a temper tantrum exhibited by tearing down of the East Wing of the White House; some of the administration moving to military bases; Snap benefits running out for millions of Americans….

My spaces at home were organized. A boring necklace was made as my creative project of the month. Now that I feel more settled, November will offer more creative time.

10th Month Complete

The necklace is somewhat of a choker style, perhaps a little small. The intent was to pick up the colors of the stone from the necklace I made in New Mexico.

My Year Of Creativity

January https://tell-me-your-story.org/2025/02/01/my-year-of-creativity/

February https://tell-me-your-story.org/2025/03/07/my-year-of-creativity-2/

March https://tell-me-your-story.org/2025/03/30/my-year-of-creativity-march-2025/

April https://tell-me-your-story.org/2025/05/18/my-year-of-creativity-april-2025/

May https://tell-me-your-story.org/2025/06/06/my-year-of-creativity-may-2025/

June https://tell-me-your-story.org/2025/07/11/my-year-of-creativity-june-2025/

July https://tell-me-your-story.org/2025/08/08/my-year-of-creativity-july-2025/

August: https://tell-me-your-story.org/2025/09/14/my-year-of-creativity-august-2025/

September: https://tell-me-your-story.org/2025/10/21/my-year-of-creativity-september-2025/

My Year Of Creativity (September 2025)

Unedited

The Past

In the spring of 2018, I volunteered for an organization called “Girls On The Run” as a coach. The older group, Heart and Sole, is the one I co-led. The younger group, Girls On the Run, was led by “Kay” who was about six years younger than myself. When we first met, the younger coach and I discovered that not only were we born in the same month, but our birthdays were only one day apart.

The first season Kay and I only spoke about the running program. Spring season ended and we each went our separate ways. By the time the two of us started to coach again in autumn, my world had begun to crumble; I was trying very hard to keep it all together. At some point, early in the fall of 2018, Kay and I ran into each other in the post office. Our conversation turned from a normal, every day discussion to a realization that both of us had heavy things that were weighing us down. We decided to meet someday just to get to know each other better.

Although Kay was a pastor, and I didn’t attend church, it dawned on me that this woman could be a good friend: she was easy to talk to and we had some things in common. Between the fall of 2018 and spring of 2019 Kay and I began to go out for lunch, coffee, or walks together. Somehow, we were able to talk about anything and became fast friends. When we first started to spend time with each other, I paid no attention to the news of the country and the world. My focus was on the crises in my own family rather than current events. Kay wasn’t in the dark when it came to outside happenings and my new companion filled me in.

Our friendship took us on walks during the pandemic and (when the weather was cold outside) strolls in the mall. Sadly, Kay moved away in September of 2022. We kept up our camaraderie through texts, as well as phone calls. I still only paid half attention to the news, even when my life got better. In the summer of 2024, when “Project 2025” was the topic of many conversations, I began to take notice. Along with talking about our lives, I was now able to participate in a dialogue ,with Kay, about things happening in current events.

Present Year

I had been hoping to visit Kay late last spring and then the realization hit that it wasn’t going to work for me. One day, in early June of 2025, I received a voice mail from my friend saying that there was “an idea that she wanted to run by me”. As it turned out, my compadre had been looking at a few retreat centers where she might go, to celebrate her 25th year as a Presbyterian pastor. Among the places she was looking, was somewhere called “Ghost Ranch”, in New Mexico. Kay was inviting me to join her for this monumental celebration! There was a workshop of interest to her and silversmithing program for me. A trip was planned for the end of September. All summer I looked forward to the trip with Kay and traveling to a location that, until June, was unknown to me…

While away during the summer months, I kept apprised of what was happening in my home country. By the beginning of September, the current administration was into its 8th month. Democrats and former President Biden were still being blamed for things that were going sideways over half a year later. The juvenile words from the people in the highest office, speaking on our country’s behalf, were tiring!

For months the “us verses them” in the U.S.political news, had been gnawing at me. The name calling for anyone who doesn’t align with the ideals of the current administration was getting worse. Non-believers were (and still are) considered the “enemy from within”. One of the beautiful things about this country has always been freedom of thought, why else would we hold debates before every election? People are not carbon copies of each other….we should all be allowed to have our own beliefs without be called a “foe”.

Although being revolted with the workings of the current government in the country where I reside, traveling home on Labor Day there was tranquility. After being in Canada for almost 2.5 months, I was feeling, calm cool and collected. On the horizon was the trip planned to New Mexico with Kay. As I drove and tuned into some news, there was very little information about the “Workers over Billionaires” protests that had been arranged. Mostly, I heard about the escalating tensions in Chicago…

Ten days after arriving home, came the incident with Jimmy Kimmel and what appeared to be an attack on our freedom of speech; it wasn’t even the middle of September and I was mentally exhausted by the ever terrible news! The anticipation of the upcoming vacation, with a friend that I hadn’t seen in over three years, kept me somewhat distracted. The planned holiday helped me focus on something happy. My creative project for the month became a gift for the confidant who would be traveling with me soon (scroll to the end to see what I created).

On September 25th, with the Government shutdown looming, my friend and I met in the Hertz rental car at the Albuquerque Airport. We spent one evening and two fun days sightseeing before our arrival at Ghost Ranch.

Sightseeing

First Evening: Old Town Albuquerque

Day 1

Petroglyphs National Monument

Museum of International Folk Art

Day 2

Georgia O’Keefe Museum

Georgia O’Keeffe
Series I White & Blue
Flower Shapes, 1919
Oil on board
Georgia O’Keeffe Museum
Gift of the Georgia O’Keeffe Foundation
O’Keeffe explained that she turned to flowers as subjects and painted them “big” to capture the attention of “busy New Yorkers.” She described her flower paintings as calls to “take time to see.” She also noted that her goal was not to replicate flowers as they appear in nature. O’Keeffe takes a subject historically associated with women and the home and destabilizes the experience of looking at it. Her enlarged flower fragments and folds often leave the viewer without a stable vantage point from which to navigate ambiguity between inner and outer structures. While drawing attention to the reproductive parts of flowering plants, O’Keeffe responded to eroticized readings of these depictions as female reproductive organs by stating:
“When people read erotic symbols into my paintings, they’re really talking about their own affairs.”

*Caption taken directly from the description on the wall, next to the painting in The Georgia O’Keefe Museum*

Museum of Indian Art and Culture

Bandelier National Monument

After visiting Bandelier, we spent the night in a town called White Rock. The elevation of the town is 6,375 feet above sea level. While this is a “moderate altitude” by some definitions, people living in low altitude areas might feel the effects. Having a slight headache before bed, I decided I was dehydrated. Kay felt “off”, maybe she was also in need of some water?

On Sunday, September 28th, my friend and I arrived at Ghost Ranch: the summer home of Georgia O’Keeffe. At the lowest level we were at an altitude of approximately 6500 feet. Up first, was a tour that started at the original entrance to Ghost ranch. We drove (and walked) on the dirt road that ran along the red hills and beautiful surroundings that artist loved to paint.

When our tour was finished, we ate lunch, then heard the storied history of Ghost Ranch. The land, encompassing over 21,000 acres, was once a place where dinosaurs roamed, cattle rustlers lived and famous people visited; this place has a long and rich past. The present holds different stories: people from all over the country (and the world) come to explore the land, the classes or possibly just the stillness of the impressive landscape at what is now an education and retreat center.

By mid afternoon we were ready to settle into our accommodations: a rustic adobe style building on top of a mesa. Soon our neighbors began to arrive. The women, in the rooms on either side our ours, were also taking the same silversmithing class as me. As the afternoon and evening progressed, I felt the excitement of the first days of college in somewhat of a camp like atmosphere. Most of all, the noise from the outside world was trapped outside the canyon…the destruction of our country’s political system seemed to be a world away!

Sunset outside the dining hall, as we wait to meet with the instructors and our classmates, after dinner on the first night.

Sunrise seen from the mesa: my first morning at Ghost Ranch

The next two days were busy: breakfast, lunch and dinner were all held at set times. Kay and I ate most meals together. She still wasn’t feeling quite right. My travel companion started drinking electrolytes on the advice of her classmates. Why didn’t I think to suggest this?

Educational programs were held from 9-12:00, the again from 1:30-3:30 (typically we stayed working in out space until 4). There was an option, for those in the silversmithing workshop, to return at night from 7-8. I did not work in in the studio either of the first two nights. Monday night, Kay and I along with our neighbors (who I became friends with), took the time to marvel as the sun set.

Sunset from the Mesa

*Every time I turned around, I saw beautiful textures and colors in the clouds!*

Unfortunately, by Tuesday morning my friend wasn’t feeling any better. She wanted to see the nurse, but each time she visited the health trailer, the professional wasn’t in…

On September 30, my first piece of jewelry was finished by the end of class.

The pendent on this necklace is an overlay; this is a technique where a design, cut from one metal is soldered on top of another piece of metal, I used silver for both pieces. The back was run through the rolling mill with a pattern, then once cut, soldered and finished, I used patina to make it black.

I decided to go on a hike before dinner, as there was a short, easy hiking trail close to the art center. Kay wasn’t feeling up to it, so I gave her the key to the rental car and we made a plan to meet for dinner. What should have been a three mile hike turned into about half that. Alone I walked in the majestic landscape.

Reaching a creek bed with no definitive trail on the other side, I turned back. Better to not push my luck knowing there were signs of a mountain lion and bears on the property, not to mention rattle snakes and tarantulas!

Turning back was fortunate. When I reached the nurses station, The visiting practitioner was there, I contacted Kay and immediately she went to see the nurse. Sadly, the altitude had really gotten to my friend; it was decided that I would drive her to the emergency room in the nearest town with a hospital: Española. Kay thought that going home might be what the doctor would recommend, so we went back to our room and packed up her belongings. My travel companion said that she wanted me to stay and finish my class.

Not sure I would be able to drive the five hour, round trip, to the Albuquerque airport after being in the emergency room that night, I expressed this to my friend. She said something akin to: “You are not going to stay in the emergency room with me, I know how long these visits take.” She went on to say “If I can return to Ghost Ranch I will get a a hotel room for the night”. Lastly she said “If I need to fly home, I will get a ride to the airport.

We arrived at the unassuming town somewhere around 8, it was after dark. Toting my confidant’s backpack and rolling her suitcase, I followed behind Kay as she walked through the emergency room doors. There were signs on the doors that I see in city hospitals: “No Firearms, No Weapons”. Thinking this was strange for a town in the middle of the mountains, I proceeded to go through a metal detector, setting the alarms off. Nobody stopped me.

My friend was admitted and we said our goodbyes. We both hoped that her health was okay and I would able to pick her up the next day.

Feeling badly for my friend at the hospital, I arrived back at Ghost Ranch shortly after 9 that Tuesday night….

(To be continued)

9th Month Complete

This is the present I gave Kay. The pictures were taken quickly the night before I left for New Mexico, so unknown to me they were really poor pictures! What ever I was wearing at the time, reflected in the silver of the crosses. Some manipulating was done of the photographs to make them look a little better. Only the center picture was left in color; the reflection of the hue from my shirt is still somewhat there.

**The gift Incorporated some symbolism of Christianity and the Presbyterian church:**

The Necklace
Made of 12 turquoise beads to represent the Twelve Apostles. Next there are sets of 3 beads to represent The Trinity. Each set of tree is subtly broken into 4 groups to represent the Four Evangelists.

There is no meaning behind the turquoise beads, they just felt right as I was making my selection.

The Crosses:
I learned that the Presbyterian cross is typically a Celtic cross. The first cross I made was too small for the circle to fit on. The Second one, to the right, I felt was too large and awkward. The third cross, on the left, had some issues as well, but I was able to make it work.

There is no question that this gift was made by hand!

My Year Of Creativity

January https://tell-me-your-story.org/2025/02/01/my-year-of-creativity/

February https://tell-me-your-story.org/2025/03/07/my-year-of-creativity-2/

March https://tell-me-your-story.org/2025/03/30/my-year-of-creativity-march-2025/

April https://tell-me-your-story.org/2025/05/18/my-year-of-creativity-april-2025/

May https://tell-me-your-story.org/2025/06/06/my-year-of-creativity-may-2025/

June https://tell-me-your-story.org/2025/07/11/my-year-of-creativity-june-2025/

July https://tell-me-your-story.org/2025/08/08/my-year-of-creativity-july-2025/

August: https://tell-me-your-story.org/2025/09/14/my-year-of-creativity-august-2025/

My Year Of Creativity (April 2025)

April was long, yet at the same time it is hard to believe May is half over. I have been traveling for the better part of a month. No creative project has been started; we’ll see what happens…

On April 1st, I decide to devote my creative work (well most of it) to a color that calms me. A little tranquility was needed because sleep, something I have always taken for granted, had been “shallow” since mid January. I had been struggling with the use of a CPAP machine, having been diagnosed (in late December) with sleep apnea. I am one of those people who has this sleep issue, not because of being overly heavy, but just because I have a small airway. The lack of sleep, in combination with the anxiety and fear that I feel due to what has been taking place in our country, was starting to weigh me down.

Blue, and shades of it, has long been my best-loved color. Although I tend to wear a lot of black, I have always found this color calming. Maybe this is because swimming is one of my favorite activities. Shades of blue can be found in many bodies of water. Where there is water, I can swim. On the very first day I began to devote myself the the immersion of blue: my first fired pot, from pottery class, was painted various hues of my favorite color:

Although I felt peaceful after my class, the ongoing news (of our economy spiraling; public institutions being dismantled; DOGE having their hands on everything; good works being defunded…) was not helping my overall frame of mind. Saturday, April 5, I did two things that helped my mood: the first activity was joining a group that was removing invasive plants in our area; it felt good to be working outside and focusing on something different than politics! The second thing I did was join the “Hands Off Movement”, a peaceful rally in our red county. Just as in February, standing among strangers united for a common cause, I felt empowered. That evening, the necklace I started in March (not blue), was finished.

I think of many of my creations as prototypes; there is always room for improvement. The clasp on this necklace is on the front, and interchangeable closures were made with different beads.

On April 7, my husband suggested we visit the Smithsonian. We hadn’t been in years. When my spouse presented me with this opportunity, I jumped at the chance. In March, the President Of The United States announced an executive order to try and make changes at the Smithsonian Institution; it was important to me to see these places, once again, before the “restoring of Truth and Sanity to American History”. The first museum we visited was the National American Museum of History; this had always been my favorite museum. Then we went to the National Museum Of African American History; the last time we were in Washington, DC, was shortly after it opened, and it was hard to get into. Unfortunately the day was getting late, so we only stayed at the second museum for a short while. As we left D.C. I was overwhelmed by how far we had come as a country and, at the same time, was filled with trepidation that our predecessors mistakes might be covered up.

April 15th, I received my second finished piece from my pottery class:

My plan for my creative project in April, was to immerse myself in learning how to make a bezel from start to finish: soldering bezel wire to a metal base, sawing the form out, filing, sanding and finally setting a blue stone. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any bezel wire.

Instead of jewelry work in the afternoons, I decided to look at a file box my father had kept for me. The early years took me back to first grade; this was the era of “Free To Be You And Me”( https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Free_to_Be…_You_and_Me). I found solace in reliving my younger years. A story was written and published in mid April:

The Dabbler
https://tell-me-your-story.org/2025/04/21/the-dabbler/

Many years ago my sister had been on a trip around the world and brought beads back. Then, a few years back, she gave them to me. At night, I worked on a necklace for my eldest sibling. The stones I chose to work with were blue; they were hard to work with as they were chipped stone of different sizes and shapes.

Meanwhile, current events continued to weigh me down. In mid April, I awoke to the news that the president decided to sunset all environmental regulations made in the last 100 years:

Presidential Action

https://www.whitehouse.gov/presidential-actions/2025/04/zero-based-regulatory-budgeting-to-unleash-american-energy/.

Presidential Action more easily explained

https://www.npr.org/2025/04/17/nx-s1-5366814/endangered-species-act-change-harm-trump-rule

Mentioning this to my husband, he politely told me he wasn’t in the mood to hear any type of political news. Respecting his request, my rant remained silent. In fact, I tried hard not to talk about anything political for almost a week…

The 4th Tuesday in April, during pottery class, I received my finished vase and painted a large pinch pot (see pictures at the bottom of the story):

At the end of that week, we spent two days with our youngest daughter Appalachia. I had barely listened to the news for 5 days. Time was spent in nature and I felt happy and relatively calm.

The day we arrived home from our visit with our daughter, we found out one of our own was touched by DOGE. A job that was a volunteer position, where only a stipend was being paid, was dismantled. I was seeing red! I was angry, but at the same time so sad. Why were good works the target of our new government? What happened to empathy?

I packed for a three day trip to Toronto, the day after the news hit home. While packing, my AirPods played the streaming sit-in of House Minority Leader Hakeem Jeffries and Sen. Cory Booker. Realizing there were still people who could make a differences, pushing against the destruction of the United States, relieved some of the feelings of the day before…they were making “Good Trouble”.

The last three days of April, I traveled to and from Canada, with one day in between (to attend a remembrance for a family friend who had died). The necklace was finished the night before I left for the memorial service:

The large blue pinch pot made and the stages:

My Year Of Creativity

January https://tell-me-your-story.org/2025/02/01/my-year-of-creativity/

February https://tell-me-your-story.org/2025/03/07/my-year-of-creativity-2/

March: https://tell-me-your-story.org/2025/03/30/my-year-of-creativity-march-2025/

“The Earth is the only world known so far to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand. It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience….. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we’ve ever known.”

– Carl Sagan

The Ever-Changing Road

Finale of The Unexpected Journey

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:

This poem has been shared with permission by Becky Hemsley.
To see more of her work go to
https://www.beckyhemsley.com/about-3

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:

Part 1: https://tell-me-your-story.org/2022/08/26/the-beginning-an-unexpected-journey-part-2-of-the-summer-that-could-have-been-idyllic/.

Part 2: https://tell-me-your-story.org/2023/02/01/on-thin-ice/

Part 3: https://tell-me-your-story.org/2023/07/13/standing-at-the-edge-of-the-world/

Part 4: https://tell-me-your-story.org/2024/06/29/the-summer-of-the-loons-the-beginning-2/

Part 5: https://tellmeyourstory369820890.wordpress.com/2024/06/30/the-little-things-prologue-2/?preview=true

Part 5, chapter 1 https://tellmeyourstory369820890.wordpress.com/2024/07/01/the-little-things-chapter-1-chasing-joy-2/?preview=true

Part 5, chapter 2 https://tell-me-your-story.org/2024/04/20/i-didnt-break-chapter-of-the-little-things/

Part 5, chapter 3 https://tellmeyourstory369820890.wordpress.com/2024/07/03/dark-days-chapter-3-of-the-little-things-2/?preview=true

Part 5, chapter 4 https://tellmeyourstory369820890.wordpress.com/2024/07/04/then-the-quiet-the-little-things-chapter-4-2/?preview=true

Part 5, chapter 5 The Ground Beneath My Feet: Chapter 5 of The little Things: – Tell Me Your Story

Other related stories:

https://tell-me-your-story.org/2024/06/24/the-trip-of-a-life-time-the-summer-that-could-have-been-idyllic-2/

https://tell-me-your-story.org/2023/06/08/the-last-place-i-wanted-to-go-2/

The Ground Beneath My Feet: Chapter 5 of The little Things:

Part 5 of An Unexpected Journey

(Unedited)

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:

Part 1: https://tell-me-your-story.org/2022/08/26/the-beginning-an-unexpected-journey-part-2-of-the-summer-that-could-have-been-idyllic/.

Part 2: https://tell-me-your-story.org/2023/02/01/on-thin-ice/

Part 3: https://tell-me-your-story.org/2023/07/13/standing-at-the-edge-of-

the-world/

Part 4: https://tell-me-your-story.org/2024/06/29/the-summer-of-the-loons-the-beginning-2/

Part 5: https://tellmeyourstory369820890.wordpress.com/2024/06/30/the-little-things-prologue-2/?preview=true

Part 5, chapter 1 https://tellmeyourstory369820890.wordpress.com/2024/07/01/the-little-things-chapter-1-chasing-joy-2/?preview=true

Part 5, chapter 2 https://tell-me-your-story.org/2024/04/20/i-didnt-break-chapter-of-the-little-things/

Part 5, chapter 3 https://tellmeyourstory369820890.wordpress.com/2024/07/03/dark-days-chapter-3-of-the-little-things-2/?preview=true

Part 5, chapter 4 https://tellmeyourstory369820890.wordpress.com/2024/07/04/then-the-quiet-the-little-things-chapter-4-2/?preview=true

Other related stories:

https://tell-me-your-story.org/2022/07/23/the-trip-of-a-life-time-the-summer-

that-could-have-been-idyllic/

The Last Place I Wanted To Go…

Then The Quiet: The Little Things Chapter 4

Part 5 of An Unexpected Journey

(Unedited)

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:

Part 1: https://tell-me-your-story.org/2022/08/26/the-beginning-an-unexpected-journey-part-2-of-the-summer-that-could-have-been-idyllic/.

Part 2: https://tell-me-your-story.org/2023/02/01/on-thin-ice/

Part 3: https://tell-me-your-story.org/2023/07/13/standing-at-the-edge-of-

the-world/

Part 4: https://tell-me-your-story.org/2024/06/29/the-summer-of-the-loons-the-beginning-2/

Part 5: https://tellmeyourstory369820890.wordpress.com/2024/06/30/the-little-things-prologue-2/?preview=true

Part 5, chapter 1 https://tellmeyourstory369820890.wordpress.com/2024/07/01/the-little-things-chapter-1-chasing-joy-2/?preview=true

Part 5, chapter 2 https://tell-me-your-story.org/2024/04/20/i-didnt-break-chapter-of-the-little-things/

Part 5, chapter 3 https://tellmeyourstory369820890.wordpress.com/2024/07/03/dark-days-chapter-3-of-the-little-things-2/?preview=true

Other related stories:

https://tell-me-your-story.org/2022/07/23/the-trip-of-a-life-time-the-summer-

that-could-have-been-idyllic/

The Last Place I Wanted To Go…

I Didn’t Break: Chapter 2 of The Little Things

Part 5 of An Unexpected Journey

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:

Part 1: https://tell-me-your-story.org/2022/08/26/the-beginning-an-unexpected-journey-part-2-of-the-summer-that-could-have-been-idyllic/.

Part 2: https://tell-me-your-story.org/2023/02/01/on-thin-ice/

Part 3: https://tell-me-your-story.org/2023/07/13/standing-at-the-edge-of-the-world/

Part 4: https://tell-me-your-story.org/2024/06/29/the-summer-of-the-loons-the-beginning-2/

Part 5, Prologue: https://tellmeyourstory369820890.wordpress.com/2024/06/30/the-little-things-prologue-2/?preview=true

Part 5, chapter 1: https://tellmeyourstory369820890.wordpress.com/2024/07/01/the-little-things-chapter-1-chasing-joy-2/?preview=true

Other related stories:

https://tell-me-your-story.org/2022/07/23/the-trip-of-a-life-time-the-summer-

that-could-have-been-idyllic/

The Last Place I Wanted To Go…

The Little Things, Chapter 1: Chasing Joy

Part 5 of An Unexpected Journey

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:

Part 1: https://tell-me-your-story.org/2022/08/26/the-beginning-an-unexpected-journey-part-2-of-the-summer-that-could-have-been-idyllic/.

Part 2: https://tell-me-your-story.org/2023/02/01/on-thin-ice/

Part 3: https://tell-me-your-story.org/2023/07/13/standing-at-the-edge-of-the-world/

Part 4: https://tell-me-your-story.org/2024/06/29/the-summer-of-the-loons-the-beginning-2/

Part 5: https://tellmeyourstory369820890.wordpress.com/2024/06/30/the-little-things-prologue-2/?preview=true

Other related stories:

The Trip Of A Life Time- The Summer That Could Have Been Idyllic

The Last Place I Wanted To Go…

The Little Things: Prologue

Part 5 of An Unexpected Journey

This past November was a difficult….

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:

Part 1: https://tell-me-your-story.org/2022/08/26/the-beginning-an-unexpected-journey-part-2-of-the-summer-that-could-have-been-idyllic/.

Part 2: https://tell-me-your-story.org/2023/02/01/on-thin-ice/

Part 3: https://tell-me-your-story.org/2023/07/13/standing-at-the-edge-of-

the-world/

Part 4: https://tell-me-your-story.org/2024/06/29/the-summer-of-the-loons-the-beginning-2/

Other related stories:

https://tell-me-your-story.org/2022/07/23/the-trip-of-a-life-time-the-summer-

that-could-have-been-idyllic/

The Last Place I Wanted To Go…

The Summer Of The Loons

Part 4 of An Unexpected Journey

Unedited

I hear the loons calling again this summer; that lonesome, haunting cry that only this bird can make. Have you heard it? In the summer of 2019, I heard the mournful wail of the waterfowl at all hours of the day and night; it was strange. I remember this so clearly, it sounded as if the loons were echoing the sadness inside my soul…

Play this video to hear the loon call three times.

Four years ago, at the end of June, my husband and I took our son (Bay) to a residential treatment program in Los Angeles. The weekend was a quick trip out and back from the east coast. We left early on a Saturday morning and came home the next day. Arriving home, exhausted, we had new information. We would need to be out in LA more than we had thought: being physically present was extremely important. Family therapy could be on Zoom, if need be, but it would be beneficial if at least one parent was in person as many weekends as possible. Saturday mornings, in treatment, there was group therapy: first the parents of the residents would meet; then everyone who was in attendance that day would gather for a “multi-family” group. After the second session of “group”, we would have lunch and visit with our child for a few hours. Until the afternoon that we dropped off Bay, we weren’t truly aware that the whole family needed to participate in the healing process.

My youngest daughter was due at camp in Ontario, Canada the weekend after we dropped off Bay. The camp is a little over an hour away from where we spend time each summer. Early in the week, my husband and daughter packed up the truck and drove north and west to our cottage. Saturday June 29th, my husband dropped our 13 year old off for a fun-filled month away from us. The next week I was at home with our dog and two cats. During this time, I looked for the cheapest round-trip flights from Toronto to Los Angeles, booked accommodations, cleaned house, and took some time each morning to run or swim. I was bone tired.

Almost a week later, I loaded the minivan with my bags, said goodbye to our cats and put our dog, Murphy, in the back of the mini van. Driving on only a few hours of sleep, I surprisingly made it to our summer home without incident. That evening, all through the night, and the days following the loons were calling; it seemed they never stopped the their haunting cry…

On July 4th, we left the mournful sound of the loons at the lake. We had an early flight, from Toronto to Los Angeles, the next morning. July 5th, several hours after we left Toronto, we arrived in LA; family therapy was to take place in the afternoon. Once we arrived at the residence, we sat in the counselor’s office with our son. By the end of our family session, we were no longer sitting with our son, but with our daughter; the pronouns Bay was using were “she” and “her”. We knew back in April that Bay experienced gender dysphoria, not because he communicated this to us, but instead told a doctor in the emergency room; it was written on his discharge paperwork. Until that day in LA, we didn’t really know what that term meant for our child. Gender dysphoria is distress at the gender that was assigned at birth. People who have gender dysphoria are often depressed with suicidal ideation. We were grateful our teenager was able to explain that he was actually a female and share with us the start of his gender exploration. In our minds, Bay was still our son. The pronouns hadn’t changed for us yet ( as reflected in this segment of my story).

Our middle child wanted to”come out” to his sisters and grandparents in his own way. So, for the time being, my husband and I were keeping a secret from most of our family members. We also learned that Bay was trying to decide on a new name. I told him that when he chose another name I would mess up. The correct pronouns would come with time, when I got in the habit of using them. There were tears all around, but this was our child and we would love and accept him for whomever he was.

The next day, Saturday, was family visitation. We went to the parent group in the morning; it was extremely helpful to hear what other parents were going through with their children. I am not sure how much I contributed. That summer I could barely get out my words without crying. Bay didn’t want to do much with us on Saturday afternoon. He said he was “annoyed and sick of us”. We were sure he enjoyed his past isolation at home, so connecting with his parents was low on the list. My husband and I felt saddened as we watched the other families and their dynamics; everyone had something they seemed to share: music, games, etc. Bay wanted to do nothing. In the past, Bay enjoyed playing games with us. He was no longer interested. That Saturday, our child really just seemed to wish we would leave. From over 2000 miles, I heard the call of the loon echoing in my mind.

On Sunday, my husband went back to Canada; I flew to San Francisco to stay with my sister and her family. During my time in Northern California, I was still emailing and talking on the phone to therapists at the treatment center. I recently found two emails I sent that week.

One of these email’s was to Bay’s therapist. Another was to a clinician at the center who’s background work is in gender and sexuality (this man was the reason Bay was here); to protect the counselor’s privacy, I will call him “Khalid”. During the time I was in San Francisco, my sister, a therapist, was a great comfort and I did confide in her. Also, one of my closest friend’s had come to stay at my sibling’s house, to spend time with me. I told her about Bay’s exploration of gender. While I was in the City by the Bay, I was given the space to talk about what was happening in my life or not say anything at all. I chose to share. The loon’s mourning call was softer but still lingering within me.

By late Thursday morning, I was headed back to LA. I met with Khalid on Friday morning. My learning curve about gender identity went way up that day; some of the things I’ve learned have taken place over the last four years.

When I said to Khalid in my email ” I don’t see any feminine qualities in him/her….” I was viewing Bay through the gender standards that society has impressed upon us.

Late Friday afternoon I had family therapy. Saturday morning was spent at Bay’s residence going to groups, having lunch and visiting. The morning of July 13, Bay came out to to the multi family group; the amount of support and acceptance the people gave her stopped the reverberations of the loons that were so far away.

Sunday morning I left Sunny California and flew to Toronto. I was utterly exhausted, and felt sure that it must be draining to be in therapy and working the healing process everyday. Perhaps this is the idea of intensive therapy: you let negative thoughts and habits flow out of you and try to fill your mind with a more positive ways of thinking and coping.

After six hours on the plane (in addition to all the time before and after the flight), I was finally in my minivan heading north, toward our summer home. I felt the loons circling my thoughts. I was weeping when friend reached out by text (I was using Siri to read and answer). He asked: “How is your son?”. I answered: “I no longer have a son.”. At that moment I realized I was in mourning. My child hadn’t died, but I was grieving the loss of a “son” and an idea of what I thought my life was like…I arrived late in the evening to our cottage. As I lay trying to sleep, I heard the mournful sound of the loon beckoning me to join it’s cry.

To see Part 1 and 2 and 3 of An Unexpected Journey, follow the links:

Part 1: https://tell-me-your-story.org/2022/08/26/the-beginning-an-unexpected-journey-part-2-of-the-summer-that-could-have-been-idyllic/. 

Part 2: https://tell-me-your-story.org/2023/02/01/on-thin-ice/

Part 3: https://tell-me-your-story.org/2023/07/13/standing-at-the-edge-of-the-world/

Other related stories:

https://tell-me-your-story.org/2022/07/23/the-trip-of-a-life-time-the-summer-that-could-have-been-idyllic/

https://tell-me-your-story.org/2023/06/08/the-last-place-i-wanted-to-go-2/ 