Post #20 - A Resounding Secret

My parents and all my siblings are gone. Were their existence simply a dream I had?

Dance was stolen from me by my captors - my only escape from a life of abuse and suffering.

I live in a bed. The only sunshine I see comes through my window.

Yet, I have an inexplicable joy in my heart that nothing can touch or take away from me. How can that be? I tuck this secret deep in my heart. A beautiful, unveiled and resounding secret.

Post #19 - A Brightly Burning Ember

It makes no earthly sense that I should have so much joy and be able to keep on smiling in the midst of my sufferings and life-threatening health issues, does it?

That's what gives me the confidence to say with pure conviction that "I am a very weak woman who trusts in a very strong God."

This is how I cope. No, this is how I overcome. An ember burns brightly in my soul, giving me purpose. Without it, there would be no point to my existence and no reason to keep on going.

A handful of pills would release me, but I choose to cling to that rope of hope. For what is life without hope, but an empty shell.

Post #18 - A Bit of Trivia about Me in Fours

Four jobs I’ve had:

1. Cocktail waitress in an infamous 70s & 80s Miami Beach private after-hours club (Sammy’s East Side). The clientele consisted of a sprinkling of celebrities; drug dealers from South America and Cuba; well-known Italian and Jewish gangsters, and dozens of discothèque aficionados.  2. Dance instructor at Arthur Murray Studios and a private studio in Bal Harbour, Miami Beach  3. Accounts Receivable Supervisor in a medical company (I had no idea how to use a computer and no prior experience when hired at the age of thirty-eight!)  4. Receptionist in an office located at One Park Avenue in NYC while Death Wish was being filmed (I met Charles Bronson, his wife, Jill Ireland (who were both very nice) and Vincent Gardenia who was a snob and a pig).

Four things I miss the most:

1. Dancing  2. Driving  3. Dipping my foot into the ocean

4. My independence

Four movies I watch over and over: 

 1. Remember Me  2. Nottinghill  3. Pretty Woman  4. Baby Boom

Four places I have lived:  

1. Los Angeles, CA  2. Las Vegas, NE  3. NYC  4. Miami Beach, FL

Four of my favorite TV shows:  

1. Law and Order SVU  2. Mad About You  3. Friends

4. The Voice

Four places I have been on vacation: (pre-wheelchair) 

1. Ontario, Canada  2. Freeport, Bahamas  3. Disneyworld

4. Phoenix

Four of my favorite foods 

1. Anything Mediterranean  2. California Avocado  3. Brie and Bleu Cheese  4. Red Merlot and Dark Chocolate

Four things that scare me:  

1. Heights  2. Hurricanes  3. Pain  4. Wars

Four things that make me smile:  

1. Children  2. A sunny day  3. Baby animals  4. Being alive

Four Things I enjoy:  

1. Mentoring teens  2. Birds  3. Cooking 4. Meeting people

Four Things I despise:  

1. Irresponsibility  2. Lying  3. Stealing  4. Lack of integrity 

Four things I don't understand: 

1. Suffering  2. Hate  3. Why people need to lie  4. Disloyalty

  

Four things I want to do before I die:  

1. Watch my grandchildren grow up  2. Publish my book

3. Touch the ocean with my feet (that would take a miracle)

4. Author more books that help others cope with suffering and inform

Four things I can do (even though I’m paralyzed): 

1. Use my hands and arms  2. Cook  3. Love people  4. Be a friend

 Four ways to describe my personality:  

1. Self-deprecating   2. Nurturing  3. Easy-going  4. Honest

Four things I can no longer do: 

 1. Drive  2. Swim 3. Walk  4. Dance 

Post #17 - Penning My Story – Bleeding on the Pages

I was up last night until 4:00 a.m. working on the final rewrites of my book (I lost all track of time). It will hopefully be the last time I will have to return to those painful memories. My co-writer and editor, Peter Lundell, a professional ghostwriter, as well, is amazing to work with. I’m so thankful Janey DeMeo who referred me to Cec Murphey who in turn referred me to Peter. And, above all, to God.

 What began as a catharsis turned into a manuscript that has now become a mission. I realized that just because I am hidden away from the world in a bedridden condition does not mean what I have to say has no value.

No one should ever feel that way. Everybody suffers and each has a story to tell. I love this quote:

"Your writing matters as much as the hard labor others do. You teach us all through your words the value of helping other human beings through tragedy." author unknown

Anyhow, I never realized how difficult it would be for me to write my life story – lay it out there honestly in transparency for all to see. All I experienced – how I felt.

What it was like to be a molested, raped, then to be a captive of sex traffickers, suffer through two abusive marriages, and now paralyzed due to a rare virus I contracted while a captive.

It’s not easy to revisit an agonizing past over and over again while we edit. But, I think it’s important to share the effects that it has had on my life – my journey from misery to an abiding hope.

A row of human dominoes, toppling over, unaware or uncaring, can cause irreparable damage to a mind, body, and soul. I had a string of dominoes in my life.

I believe my book conveys all these things (without judgement) and will open eyes so that together we can help spare one another from similar fates.

No one is an island or should have to be.

Post #16 - Soaking Up Every Moment of Life

I was out yesterday, fresh air, sunshine, 90° (I love the heat) - nice. Soaking up every moment of my day of freedom, I sought out photo ops. As an avid bird lover, you can imagine my thrill when I ran into these two stately four-foot-tall sandhill cranes standing by the side of the road. They did not even flinch, but seemed to actually "pose,” allowing me to snap several shots. So cool.

Did you know that a nesting sandhill crane has a protective mate, who attacks cars in the ... He sees his reflection in the mirrors and the shiny exterior of parked cars....and attacks!

“Some moments are nice, some are nicer, 

some are even worth writing about.” ― Charles Bukowski

Post # 15 - Onism - Frustration of Being Stuck in One Body, That Inhabits One Place at a Time

Mother’s Day – one of the loneliest yet happiest day for me because I’ve been blessed with two kids, one step-daughter (my son’s half-sister), and two inherited grown children who have given me twelve wonderful grandchildren, all miles and (may as well be) galaxies away from me, hence the word “onism” from The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows. My excuse to briefly wallow a bit.

Being confined to this bed, unable to travel at all due to circulatory issues, annoys me. And each of my kids have their extended families and busy schedules which limits their opportunities to visit me.

Oh how I miss walking, driving or flying anywhere I wanted, anytime I wanted. Sigh.

Anyhow I spent this Mother’s Day at home texting Mother’s Day messages to friends and family and watching movies for hours. And relaxed. A luxury for me. Turned out to be a good day after all. My pity-party ended quickly.

My dear Michael – always thoughtful and spoiling me – bought me this yummy giant chocolate chip cookie cake and a box of chocolates. Comfort food. He always makes me feel special.

So, I shouldn’t complain. I’m blessed. Many motherless women suffer on that day and others have lost children. I’m glad it’s just one day and one day passes by swiftly.

Post # 14 - Free Falling

I am unable to travel because of my medical situation, so I have not flown since Feb 12, 2005. I remember it clearly because it was my daughter Lori's birthday and I went to handle my mother's estate for my siblings.

I enjoyed gazing out the plane's window. A close friend of mine, who flew cross-country the other day, snapped some photos for me. I particularly like this photo. It captures a wisp of cottony clouds resting in a sunshiny blue sky. If you look carefully, you can see a shadowy hint of Denver below.

One day soon, I believe I will fly away to beautiful wildflower fields and into the heavenly promised land.

Post # 13 - One Child at a Time - My Young Friend Savannah

“A sense of worthiness is a child’s most important need.” 

Polly Berends

I have a new friend now. Eleven-year-old Savannah is a bundle of energetic joy – an adorable, thoughtful moppet with a beaming smile and a personality that captured my heart. Her mom is a friend of mine and brought her over to brighten my day.

Savannah and I spent hours talking about her life in school. She’s very honest about her feelings and shortcomings, but also determined to get her education, even though she struggles a lot.

Sadly, this darling little girl is one of 17% of children bullied in school. What makes things worse – in order to protect herself, Savannah admittedly “bullies” back. Since death and disability are abstract to most children, they don’t understand that fighting can lead to tragedy. And with so many parents, single and married, working one or more jobs simply to put food on the table, many of these children don’t get the investment they desperately need.

I discussed ways with Savannah how to handle a bully without it leading to a fist fight. In one particular incident, Savannah needed a paper to finish an assignment and a girl, (we'll call her Sam),who bullies her took it away. 

Savannah got upset and apparently said something to Sam that caught the attention of the teacher, but only after Sam pushed Savannah. And Savannah wanted to react. At any rate, the teacher told the Sam to apologize. She didn’t.

Savannah and Sam have had several altercations. Since Savannah admitted that she sometimes provokes the girl, I suggested that she apologize to her and forgive her. I explained to her that perhaps Sam needed some kindness. Maybe, her homelife wasn't all that great, so she seeks attention by "bullying". Who knows? One day they could become best friends, once they truly understand each other. And as I told Savannah, someone has to try to take the first step.

Savannah looked at me with her big blue eyes and said, “I don’t really like that,” with a curl of a smile, but she said she'd try. Then, we moved on to cooking.

Savannah loves to cook, but does not know how. I am a cook-from-scratch culinary artiste. That day I made an original chicken pasta dish with fire roasted tomatoes. I showed her how to sauté and stir the food in the pot and spoke to her about kitchen safety.

She gobbled her meal up quickly and then smiled widely. “This is delicious. Can I have the recipe? I want to cook it for my family.” So, now when I see her this Thursday, I’m looking forward to an update of her school week and if she had been able to prepare the recipe.

My heart melted when Savannah asked me if she could come back to see me. We have been exchanging emails because I’m going to burn a CD for her containing all her favorite songs. I’m choosing only the songs with positive messages from the list she gave me. I’m thankful to be given a chance to help make a difference in a child’s life. 

(Her mom gave me carte blanche to speak with her about any subject, including what I have gone through. However, I make sure to let her mother know what we talk about, as she leaves us alone to speak).

My friend thanked me for caring about her daughter. I thanked her for allowing me the privilege.

“Give children a conscious understanding of how powerful
 and important and valuable and perfect they are.” Abraham Hicks

Post #12 - A Blast from the Past

We look hot! :)

Oh my gosh! I'm in shock. My best friend, Barbi, who waitressed with me in Sammy's East Side (Miami Beach) over 40 years ago, just found me on http://www.discomusic.com/clubs-more/12891_0_6_0_C/   ~ a website loaded with classic music and all the clubs from back in the day. I also reconnected with a friend who once managed Sammy's, as well as one of my regular old-time mob patrons (who has reformed). Both are now my FaceBook friends.

Barbi said it well when she wrote in her response: "Those days would give Goodfellas a run for their money." I worked there after I left my first husband (I was rescued from traffickers when I was 21 and married at 23). I was a dreamer and even though I mistrusted all men, I wound up married anyway. It didn’t work out.

After I left him, I moved from Queens to Miami Beach and landed in Sammy's East Side (the only after-hours club in Miami). As a single mom and unskilled for any other job, waitressing graveyard and making a lucrative living seemed a perfect fit for me.

The clientele consisted of a sprinkling of celebrities; drug dealers from South America and Cuba; well-known Italian and Jewish gangsters, dressed in pricey trendy suits; and dozens of discothèque aficionados showing off their latest fashions, each trying to out-dress the other. By 3 a.m., the lounge was smoky, swarming, and reeked from a mixture of strong colognes and sweat.

And the money was crazy! Sometimes I received $100 tips simply for buying a guy cigarettes from the machine in the back of the disco.

I worked there from 1977 until 1986. Those were "not so much" the days. Scary stuff. Murders weekly outside the club. Guns lying on cocktail tables and on the bar. No one cared. Anything went, even snorting cocaine out in the open.

I am so thrilled to be in touch with Barbi . . . she identifies with me like no one else can. We spoke on the phone today. During our conversation she mentioned that she noticed that I had a death wish. She was right. As a traumatized young woman, I always struggled, battling with suicidal thoughts. An burning ember of hope and my love for my children kept me alive.

Poar #11 - Breathing Fresh Air - For One Beautiful Day

I breathed fresh air on Wednesday and soaked up some sun on a stunning 85° day. I drove my wheelchair a few blocks, then through the Lowe's parking lot. (Michael met me there with the van so I could enjoy a little jaunt). We needed a new dryer. Our seven-year-old, irreparable Whirlpool developed an appetite for some of my favorite towels and an expensive throw rug, shredding them to unidentifiable objects. C'est la vie.

During the drive home (actually only across the street from our condo), I was swept away by these stunning white puffs floating in a crystal blue sky.How luxurious! 

Post #10 - Sometimes, I Just Need to Escape

Cocooning myself in bed, with the covers over my head while listening to sad, poignant songs relieves my emotional and physical pain. Far better than the self-harming I have done in the past to escape the agonies of my life. Music soothes my soul.

Post #9 - Way Too Many Hospital Stays

I'm so bummed. I have to go back into the hospital again because I need antibiotic infusions to kill these infections. If it hadn't been for the heartless negligence of one nurse I would have been done with the infusions, but she let my IV go bad because she cut off the fluids that kept my vein open.

(I have spent the better part of four and one-half years in hospitals since 2009 and have no desire to go back).

I reported her today. In order for a phlebotomist to find a vein, they need to use an ultrasound machine. And, the only place on my body that they can use is my left arm. Veins collapse in my right arm as soon as a needle touches them, and both my legs have blood clots.

It too two techs to the first time, and they could only find one available vein deep inside my left arm.

Had that nurse kept that vein open or at least made sure an ultrasound IV team came right away, I could have finished the IV antibiotic that worked. Instead, I was sent home on Cipro, which doesn't work at all with these drug-resistant infections I have.

I want to cry. I see my infectious disease doc on Thursday, He is so pissed off at the staff in the hospital for putting me through this again. Most likely I will be re-admitted Friday or Saturday unless my doc can come up wit some kind of solution.

(Unfortunately due to the expense and the danger, I cannot get IV infusions at home). Please pray. I'm so sad.

My only hope is that

 "This too shall pass . . . " ;

 but not quick enough.

Post # 8 - As March 25th Approaches, My Heart Crumbles

        

Me, Kathy, a cousin, brothers Bobby and Billy

      March 25 is my younger sister Kathy’s birthday. I scrolled through various personal gift websites. I love sending her sentimental gifts.

         I was nine years old the day Mom brought Kathy home. She looked just like my Thumbelina doll, wiggling in my mother’s arms. I loved helping Mom dress her. Mom even let me help bathe her in the kitchen sink.

         We were a family of six, living in a four-bedroom colonial. My baby sister and brother shared a bedroom until Kathy turned two. Then, Mom moved her into my room to sleep on the bottom half of my trundle bed. What joy! We cuddled together on my half of our bed, often falling asleep together. I mothered my precious sister until circumstances separated us when she was eight.

*******

         Yesterday, I picked up the phone to call her, and then realized she wouldn’t be able to answer. For over a week, I had been feeling depressed, not really knowing why. As I hung up, a wave of grief and tears overtook me and my heart shattered into pieces once again.

     I had forgotten, as I often do, that Kathy passed away last November, 2014, after a long and extremely painful battle with Stage 4 lung cancer.

         Every time it hits me, my mind numbs. Even though I believe with all my heart that she’s alive and safe in the hands of God, I miss her terribly.

         The place some of us call Heaven seems millions of miles and lifetimes away. I know her reunion with Mom, Daddy, my precious younger brothers, Bobby and Billy, my dear Aunt Tina, and my fun-loving cousin Frankie thrilled her.

     Although I’m not anxious to leave this earth yet, I’m antsy to be with them again, someday soon.

     Wishing you an early Happy Birthday, sweet Kathy. Bear hugs and kisses all over your face. I’ll love you forever and cherish the gift of every moment we spent with each other.

“No farewell words were spoken, no time to say goodbye,

you were gone before we knew it, and only God knows why.”  - Author Unknown

Post #7 - Finding Comfort in the Midst of Frustrating Times

There was a time when I could do the above

Up until a few weeks ago, although primarily confined to bed, I was allowed to get up for short periods to wash my hair and shop at Walmart, Publix, or Fresh Market (a real luxury for me).

However, my physical situation has worsened quite a bit. Now, getting out of bed can lead to a serious infection, possibly another digital amputation, or another hospitalization; none of which I am eager to experience again. Per my cardiologist, wound care doctor, and foot surgeon, I must stay in bed. Not happy about this at all.

I want to feel the sunshine on my face; not just see it through my bedroom window. I can’t cook, which drives me a bit crazy. I'm an avid gourmet cook-from-scratch home chef. I enjoy cleaning, putzing around the house, and I have mounds of paperwork that require my attention, all of which I cannot accomplish lying flat on my back.

I find medical setbacks terribly frustrating and quite exasperating.

 So, before I make myself insane just lying here, I need to find the positive in my latest imprisonment.

Hence this list:

1. I can still use my hands to write, blog, surf the net, and chat.

2. I love the colors of my walls and the way I decorated my room – in stylish eccentric/eclectic. It soothes me and stirs my creativity.

   

 

A better shot of my idea of an English garden on a budget :)

3. I am blessed to have the distraction a flat screen TV and a DVR

4. My media player is packed with over 100 of my favorite tunes

5. See this five-pound shake weight? I have the strength to lift it and exercise while in bed

6. My loved ones kindly serve me all my meals

7. It teaches me how to find contentment

The things I can’t do fade a bit when I focus my thinking and energies on what I can do. It’s not always easy, but it certainly is necessary.

“Find a place inside where there's joy,

and the joy will burn out the pain.”

Joseph Campbell

Post # 6 - I'm a Lucky Girl

If not for the constant reminder of those days that smacks me in the face as soon as I open my eyes each morning, I may have found the strength to put this all behind me.

Molested at the age of twelve, raped at fifteen, and sold to human traffickers at the age of eighteen, contracting Tropical Spastic Paraparesis – ultimately confining me to my bed. Humiliation, guilt, and shame kept me silent. 

My passion, dancing, stolen from me.

When I was fifty-eight (five years ago), I became suicidal due to years of trauma and nightmares. I had no desire to speak to anyone face to face so I reached out to the internet seeking help. No matter what time of the day it was, there was no one that I could talk with, so I sent out emails or filled out forms.

The only website that responded to me sent me an email asking me for a donation, hardly the way to open up a victim's heart to want to have any further communication.

Informative websites such as The Polaris Project only provide referrals. Unable to find a site that offered a live contact twenty-four hours a day only led me to more hopelessness.

People have mentioned that my faith should be enough. They lack understanding. Then, a friend suggested that I "vomit" all the horrors that lived inside of me onto paper. I did. It has put me on the road to healing.

I realize now that I am a lucky girl. Less than one percent of human trafficking victims are found. I have made it my mission to add my voice to the many other voices fighting to end human trafficking and sexual violence.

I pray that my soon-to-be-published book will not only enlighten many of the domino effect that trauma wreaks on a life, but also give hope. Now, by the grace of God –    

Nothing    will    silence    this    woman’s   voice   again.

"Your writing matters as much as the hard labor others do. You teach us all through your words the value of helping other human beings through tragedy." author unknown

Post #5 ~ Where Can I Run When the Only Place to Flee Is Inside My Head?

Seems like I’m trapped on a never-ending rollercoaster ride; never liked them as a kid; terrified me so much, I always threw-up. 

Yesterday, I received a devastating email that sent me spiraling into a well of depression.

How I’d love to escape – go for a dreamy, care-free drive through a verdant countryside or – take a leisurely stroll on a sun-kissed beach, listen to the seagulls song, hear gushing waves crash against jagged rocks – sink my feet into squishy, golden grains of sand, and let the salt from a rush of sea spray tickle my tongue.

But, I can’t.

Chained to my bed with deadened legs, I’m unable to move. So, when I’m hit with bad news or in stress-overload, I’ve nowhere to escape but into my mind. Often, like today, I simply shut down; listen to depressing music and hide my head under my covers for hours – one of my safe places.

Other times, I rebel against the sadness; blast tunes on media player from my laptop, close my eyes, and dance in my bed until the misery fades away.

I search for God during those dark moments and cannot find Him. I run through a spinning maze in my head, which has no road signs, and lose my way.

Then, suddenly, I’m enlivened. An intangible joy pushes it way through my gloom and a force outside of myself strengthens me once more. Even when I try to resist, that joy and strength overpower me in an inexplicably beautiful way.

I’m myself again. The little girl inside is comforted and I’m able to press on. Hence, this post – And so I do.

"Hope" is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune without the words
And never stops — at all....”  ~ Emily Dickinson

Post #4 ~ Nightmares, Dreams, & Imagination

Where is that lovely place we go when we dream?

I don't know where it is or what I do, but I can walk, 

and it’s just lovely.

Not one night passes by that I don’t dream or have a recurring nightmare. I walk or dance in each one. Sometimes I wake up suddenly, believing that I really can walk, so I try to get out of bed. Initially, it always surprises me that my legs won’t move. For those brief moments, I forget that I’m paralyzed, until reality sets in again.

It’s surreal and always reminds of the things I miss most like driving, dipping my foot into the ocean, slipping into a shoe, and, of course, dancing. Oft times I feel like a spectator of my life, floating above my body while watching the traumatized little girl within me longing to be freed. 

It may sound odd, but it is that little girl who is writing my book. I’m at the end stages of a final rewrite with my editor – five long years of reading and rereading my life’s story. Each page I reread provokes a trigger. They unexpectedly pellet me, making it difficult to control them.

But, I’m learning. After a few therapy sessions, I began to understand the subtleness of triggers. Writing occupies most of my time and has become a healing balm for me. So, when I wake up from a dream or nightmare, I write it down and file it away in a lockbox.

Many times, I drift away into my imagination. Right now, I’m going to grab a picnic basket, brimming with bittersweet dark chocolate, creamy brie cheese, a bottle of a rich red Merlot, and a crunchy savory biscotti – settle on a cushy patch of soft grass, rest my back against that lovely verdant, shade tree, and drink in the stunning scenery surrounding me. Care to join me? 

Post #3 ~ Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

Maddie & Maggie

     One of my BBFs took me Sunday out to do anything I wanted to do.  We went to a brand new mall near my home. It is so classy! I haven’t been in a mall since the early 90s.  

     I’m not supposed to be out of bed for more than a couple of hours (per doctor’s orders due to circulatory issues), but this was a special occasion. Maggie, (who is also my amazing physical therapist), knew I never have a chance to do anything just for fun, so she invited me out on Sunday. I am in safe hands with her.

     She brought along her charming fifteen-year-old daughter, Maddie. Maddie is an adorable accomplished pianist and singer, volley ball player, and a all-round bubbly young lady. I cannot put into words how much spending time with Maggie and Maddie thrilled my heart. They are so kind and full of life.

         I also basked in the beautiful 74◦ Florida sunshine in front of the mall for a few minutes. It felt wonderful to taste fresh air and catch a ever-so-slight tan.

         We strolled through several stores shopping for hats and clothes for me. I love wearing hats, but gave all mine away after all those surgeries that left me bedridden. I figured I’d never have a chance to wear hats again. But, now I’m not so confined. I venture out to doctors’ offices and the grocery store. So, I bought these two hats:

     Then, Maggie bought me ice cream, a real treat for me (I’m on a perpetual diet). I luxuriated in a cupful of three decadent flavors: cake batter, coffee, and chocolate truffle. Heavenly!

     I thoroughly enjoyed our Girls’ Day Out on Sunday. What great therapy – soup for my soul! I’ll never forget that day. Thank you, Maggie and Maddie! You’re the best!