Beautiful Chaos

I am the mother of a teenage girl. I know there are others like me. I know somewhere out there, a woman is sitting on her bed staring at nothing and wondering what the hell just happened.
A teenage girl happened.
Last year, for weeks, my chest would get tight when my desk phone rang at work. I would cry on the way home wondering if there would be an ambulance or a cop car in front of my house when I pulled in.
See, I have a cutter. Some of you don't know what that is, it's a form of self medicating. Kids who have a chemical imbalance do it because pain sends endorphins rushing through their system, it's a drug. Cutters are usually bi-polar. You can rail at them and cry all you want. They don't stop. Some of them self medicate with drugs, alcohol, or sex. Pretty soon though, they all start the suicide crap. They write about it on facebook, leave notes in their rooms, threaten you with it when they are in trouble.
Here is this beautiful little person, who used to crawl onto your lap and giggle at the songs you sang them. Who would make you laugh with the way they would say words wrong or phrase things the way only a child can. There they are. They have holes in their skin and scars all over the little body you created and carried inside you. They are horribly mean most of the time and tell you they hate you.
Here's the kicker. It's not really you they hate. You are not alone. I thought I was absolutely alone. I thought I had done something so wrong, what did I do? How does this happen?
This is common. You are not alone. You are not alone. I can't say that enough. You are not alone.
You feel like a failure, and wonder where it went wrong but at the end of the day, it's not really about you after all.
I put my girl on medication, turns out it was the wrong one and it's not really helping. But I will keep trying. I will keep looking at her. I will not turn away and shut my eyes. I love her, in all her beautiful chaos. I love her. We just moved to a new school district and it has been hard on her. But you find a new guidance center and swallow your pride and take her. You ignore the looks you get from the other parents, let them judge. They have no idea. They don't know how it feels to have a child who hates herself enough to give up. Screw them. Let them look. Let them whisper.
I will keep looking at her.

Pimpin the Zen

I found a very cool podcast three months ago called Zencast. It's a recording of a Buddhist class held weekly. I got hooked on listening to it on my drive to work every morning, the main speaker is Gil Fronsdhal. It's funny how your morning usually set the tone for the rest of your day...
I think that when I spend my drive to work listening to Zen, I am more functional than when I listen to a local radio station blab about their solution to our economy. Zencast has Meditation timers and classes on Meditation and Mindfulness practice.
I love it so therefore must Pimp it.

Look out for flying gravel!

There is something spiritual about rolling out of bed and throwing on a pair of warm sweats and sweatshirt, lacing up my adidas then picking the playlist on my ipod, and taking off. The feel of my feet pounding onto the pavement as I ease into a slow jog jars my brain into action.
I can feel my muscles start to respond, at first they are grumbling at me.
I start to take catalog of all my body parts, how my feet are landing, how long my stride is, making sure my core is straight.
I start to ease into the rocking stride I have come to call "Nuetral".
My husband, a Marine, got me hooked on running and even though he never yelled the "left, left" cadence, I say it to myself when I feel like I've gotten off stride. That cadence in my head helps me get back that stride that feels like I'm loping.
So there I am, running through the town I live in with my body on auto pilot and my mind going wherever it wants to. I feel strong as I breathe in through my mouth and out through my nose, my leg muscles starting to burn as I go up the truly brutal hill at the edge of town. I feel like the air is more pure. I start to feel like anything I come up against is nothing compared to this hill.
I change my stride like I'm downshifting in my car, I lift my feet higher and push with my glutes, powering up the steep grade. There is a pasture there with some cows and one horse, it has become my habit to whistle a little warble to the horse. He lifts his head and comes to the fence to watch me fly by. On the leg home I want to stop and walk. I keep saying to myself, "Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop. I don't stop.
Yeah, this is my religion.

First time blogger

It's funny, I was talking to a friend this weekend while shopping and she was telling me about her blog. I thought to myself, what the crap is a blog? So I went home and read hers. I've heard about blogging for years and never bothered to look into it.
I read some that seemed like the person writing it was 12 and dying of boredom...
Some were great and very informative. Personally I'm not sure if putting my serious thoughts out there is going to be an easy thing for me. First of all, I don't have many serious thoughts in the first place and when I do I wanna keep them on lock down.
My head is a scary place to live in any way.
We shall see...