Category Archives: Kansas City

Kansas City, MO

My Flawed Existence

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To be human is to be flawed and to succeed by simply the act of continuing to try again. I am great at counting my flaws and I struggle some days to keep trying. I find though that I have had to stop trying to be perfect. The idea of perfection still creeps into my thoughts and I have to do the hard work to not allow it to take control. For the most part, I am glad to say, I am not trying to be perfect. I am most simply these days just trying to be, to exist with the world around me. Through all of this I am just trying to understand my own nature further, and the nature of other humans around me.

I feel that humanity hides itself under the cover of owning things, gaining power/perfection, and trying to hide our flaws. I find deep gratitude when others I interact with are also working on seeing who they are underneath the covers that mask our true selves. In our modern era, full of information and toys, we struggle harder to simply enjoy our lives. I have read various research which discusses how there are too many choices available to us, and this overwhelms our capacity to be happy.

With a world so full of so many things we often makes things more difficult than they need to be. I know that I do. I am constantly speaking with my therapist about getting in the way of my own healing. I set barriers in my life that restrict me from fully embracing the world around me. These are flaws that I have to come to terms with. They are fall-backs that when I am hungry, angry, lonely, tired, or all of the above I will likely revert to.

I have some beautiful friends that I often get to speak with by phone or enjoy over a coffee. I have a flaw of not always remembering to be grateful for them. I have the flaw of being afraid of their judgement or dislike of who I am. I worry that trying to be a simple writer/artist/barista/aspiring bohemian woman seems silly to them. I also worry that in doing so I will fail myself. The truth though is in the words I said at the start of this, and have said many times to individuals I have supported through healing. If you are trying you are succeeding. It seems too simple to be true. It seems like not a big deal and gets pushed to the side by the habits we have learned through our society.

We have to clear out all the many choices and the multitude of things that get in the way. We have to return to the simple self, who are we when everything no longer exists in our life? The biblical figure Job is a good example. The book of Job is about God proving to Satan that when Job has nothing left he still has God. I have in my life been asked in various different settings who I am when I take away the volunteering, the working for others, the trauma story, the activities I do, and the things I call myself. Through one program, You School, I was asked a number of questions that helped me dive into who I am.

Through that exercise I found a key Greek term that I have known for years, Agape (ἀγάπη, agapē). This word is found in the original Greek portions of the Bible and is one of several Greek words which translated to the word “Love” in the English language. This specific Greek word denotes the love which God gives to humanity without expectation of return. It is a benevolent love, one full of good will. When I look at my life and the world around me I find that I often focus on the trauma and the pain. It some days appears that there is not good in the world. I had the Greek Agape tattooed on my forearm as a reminder of why I exist in the world. If I have no other reason to be here, at least I can love unconditionally others.

Part of me hopes what I give to others will be returned to me by others, but ultimately it is a term that I must apply to my relationship with myself. The thing about developing myself and being aware of the world around me is that I cannot care for others if I am not first caring for myself adequately. One of the flaws I hear of a lot from different individuals is that serving others is what gives us meaning in life. I know many people who don’t face their own flaws in the mirror because they are too busy helping with their neighbors crisis or flaw. It goes back to balance, which is a common theme on my journey. Helping others can give me perspective but at the end of the day, am I helping myself?

How can we truly be human, accept ourselves, and in turn accept others, if we are so busy ignoring our own humanity? If we are so busy building walls to protect ourselves from the unknown, the dangerous, the risky, the scary? If we build the walls to keep out those things which we have learned to dislike the most we are also building walls to the joy, the happiness, the love, the true connection and relationship we could have with other people.

So here I am being all smart, right? In fact, I am saying this as much for me as anyone else. I struggle to move past the knowledge bombs I like to drop on myself, to the place where I am actually experiencing life. For so long I have watched the world around me, I have been a spectator full of criticism and judgement as I have gone along. I have failed to accept my own flaws and really embrace them. Though it may not seem like it sometimes, I am trying.

This is why I am a wanderer though, because I do not know what this looks like in the end. I wish I did, I wish I knew the outcome for myself, what I can achieve, what I will look back on at the end of my life. Often it feels like life is just happening to me, so I wander along, trying to just experience it. When I have tried to plan it often fails or doesn’t turn out how I desire. The thing about it all is that I have to find unconditional love for myself. I have to dig in roots here, I have to accept my flaws and my story.

The thing is, I keep digging, sometimes I hit rocks, sometimes its’ an easy passage, and sometimes the roots stick. That’s the funny thing about wandering, the roots start to grow in different places, but they don’t hold you back, they support you to grow more, gain more nourishment, and discover what can bloom on your tree of life. There are knotty parts on the tree, some broken roots, some storm damage, and many flaws. All of this together makes you stronger. So yes, I have a flawed existence, and that is okay, I’ll keep trying. And in trying, I will be succeeding.

Kansas City, MO

Gift in the Wound

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Life is full of ups and downs. The struggles are always real from the individuals perspective. We cannot dare to think we can compare or fully understand what another person goes through. Neither the elation of joy and happiness or the sorrow of sadness and fear. I have felt many emotions both those from my shadow and my light. Life is a duality, two things exist at once at all times. Though it is night here it is also day somewhere. Though, right now, my body is in crippling pain and my soul is crying huge tears of sorrow, I know that I will find joy and relief again. I know that these two things coexist inside me.

It has taken years of wandering, searching, listening, learning, and trying to even begin to understand how two opposites co-exist at once. In my original holistic PTSD program, Save a Warrior Cohort 018, they suggested that in my wounds I might find a gift. In my mind I have many images when I think of what this might look like. I’ve a romantic, fantastical imagination. So, when I suggest that we might all find gifts in our wounds I picture a Phoenix rising from the smoldering coals of its’ own death. The ashes remain, yet something new blooms and can live again. It didn’t erase the previous existence but built on top of it.

I have in my wandering been blessed with mentoring 10 different groups of women through another holistic PTSD program, Warriors’ Ascent. I have encouraged them to find the gift in their wound even as my own gift reveals itself in my work with them. It isn’t enough to just pass the gift though. I have to live it myself. I have to give the gift in my wounds to myself. I mention these groups of women though because they too are doing the work, they too are on this journey. I’m not the lone wanderer, others are traveling too.

Daily, as I wander through the various employment, volunteering, creating, and exploring I continue to unwrap the gift in my wounding. There are days like today where the wounding is deep and crippling. My physical injuries take my peace and open the door to my mental wounding. It reminds me of how I’m different, how I must treat myself more gently, and how I have to ask others for help. I struggle to see the gift in this wound. I start to shut down both physically and mentally. I wonder how I’ll make it through the night and the next day and day after that. Less pain feels like a distant memory, let alone no pain which was eons ago. The tears stream down my face, unabashedly. I let them leave trails on my face and I feel my skin tighten as the trails dry. I focus on a sensation that is not my pain and I try to breathe.

One of the things I’ve found in receiving my gift in my wounds is that I cannot stop the feeling. I cannot numb that which is unpleasing to me. If I sent this shadow self then I will inevitably deny my light self. It is the same when I let this shadow-self run rampant it will overrun my light. Finding the gift in the wound is the first step to finding balance after and through wounding.

I want to deny that this physical pain has a gift. I rail against it, full if venom and curse words. I am tempted to sink deeper into it, to give everything I’ve accomplished and strived for up, to live in darkness. This seems ridiculous to those whose darkness and wounding doesn’t have such a hold on them. I however have lived inside my darkness for a long time now, for a long time I couldn’t see the light at all. I find an odd comfort in my pain. It is the feeling I know the best some days. If I’m going to be honest though, being able to write is my gift in the wound. It is the gift I give myself to put all of this pain and suffering into something more than just my body. It is a gift I hope I can give to others who struggle like I do. I don’t know what other gift these wounds might give me, but I will keep wandering. I will keep searching for the value, the purpose, for the next chapter of my life. In the meantime I’ll put into play all the many things I must do to care for myself. I have to force myself, but I will keep trying, because if I’m trying, I’m succeeding.

So if you too find yourself wounded and struggling I hope you can find a gift in it to give yourself. However begrudgingly you may also feel towards it. I know it exists because I have found gifts in other wounds. If not for the gifts I’ve found I would be dead. Take the journey, allow yourself to wander and search out the gifts in your wounds.

Kansas City, MO

To Begin Again

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I am afraid of the fear that I have in life. I have knowledge that protects me and acts as a shield against the power of my emotions. I wonder what my purpose in this world is. I look back on my 31 years of life and see all of the travels that I have taken. I see all of the plans I have made and not accomplished. I see the potential that I held and where that potential was not experienced fully. I see the aimlessness with which I searched for something in my life. This something is undefined, unknown to me, and feels extremely important to define. As I traveled, aimless in my search, ill-defined in my value and my meaning, I accomplished a great many different things. I often wonder how. I wonder how my journey looks to others, how it compares to their journey. I have met many like me along the way. I have met beautiful people that have helped me on my travels and given direction, insight, and wisdom. I have stood at the brink of annihilation brought about by my own hands and experiences. I found stories and people and strength that brought me back to firm ground. I looked for a word to define all of this searching and unknowing. I wanted something to name myself that allowed me to experience this journey. I found it in the depths of my tragedy and wounding, I am a wanderer.

In my life I learned in many different places that I needed to have a direction, a plan, a purpose, a mission to follow. When I talk to my inner most self, my soul-self, I find myself wanting to stand on the top of a hill on a windy day and be blown about as if I was a tree. Somewhere between what I have learned from the world and what my soul-self, my inner wild woman desires I wander. I do not know where I am going, or what my purpose is. I do not have a goal in mind, at least not one that I feel the world accepts. I have felt shame over my lack of being aligned with the world around me. I have felt not enough, less than, lacking in what allows others to engage fully in life. I have tried to fake it till I make it. In the end I come back to this wandering. I wish there was a guidebook, a path to follow in being a wanderer. That’s irony though, to have a plan to be a wanderer. Tolkien says “Not all who wander are lost.” I am a wanderer, but though I do not know the answers or have a map, I am not lost.

Though there is no singular way to lay out a plan for those of us who find our true spirits to be that of a wanderer, we will still find guidance in the stories of others. We pick and choose what applies to us and we also find that things will often surprise us in how they affect our lives. It is through the stories we hear from others and inside ourselves that determine what is next. A guide is not set in stone, it is a suggestion, it is shared wisdom. It is the reminder that though we wander, we are not wandering alone.

So this is the rebirth of the Wanderers Guide Book. It started as me telling my story. I had the audacity to think that by experiencing my life and telling my story I could make a big impact on the world. What I have learned in the 3 years since I started this blog is that it is not my own story that is important. It is the stories of everyone I interact with, and what they define their journey as. So I hope that through this Guide Book I can share the beauty, the insight, and experience of individuals’ journeys. The journey’s that bring love and growth. The journey’s that shine humanity at its’ brightest and its’ darkest. So that I may continue my wandering and that others also remain courageous in their own journey.

Welcome to the Wanderers Guide Book.

Kansas City, MO

I don’t know you, but I love you.

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I don’t know you, but I love you.

Last year a friend of mine suicided. Honestly, we were not that close but we shared this passion and this purpose that draws me close to so many people. I attended his funeral and grieved with my friends for the red-bearded giant who loved pumpkin spice lattes in the morning and Jamison to cap the day off. More than his favorite drinks he loved serving others and having a purpose. I didn’t know him well, but loved him nonetheless.

In the last 18 months I have in some way been connected to more individuals than I can count on my hands, who have taken that last resort, that last ditch option that it’s hard to back out of except on accident. When James’ suicide took my community by storm there was an outcry on social media from so many people who were struggling with thoughts and behaviors of suicide. I moved from post to post offering my support as a trained ASIST caregiver, my friendship, and most importantly my love. Some rejected my statements or thought me foolish, one girl challenged how I could love her without knowing her. Nonetheless , I love each of them. I want to tell you why I can love each of you, without ever having met you.

This is a hard time of year for me, because it is the anniversary of how in the darkest of days in my life I was able to love someone that I didn’t even know and in the end will never truly know. I lost my baby in my first trimester. It’s statistically probable and so relatively insignificant that it occurred, in the grand scheme of things. It wasn’t a cookie cutter planned pregnancy, but none the less I found myself with child. Something I wanted my whole life. I had no idea who this life was inside me. What a good man he could be. What glass ceilings she might shatter. I didn’t need to know a thing about my baby, who I called Sharkbait, after Nemo. Just like Nemo, my baby would start out with disadvantages, but I believed he was strong, that she could conquer all. I believed that just by being I could love Sharkbait so much that it would never end.

I remember my devastation, after two weeks of hearing a heartbeat while suffering complications, to birth my almost 10 week old fetus in the dark of my room and realized I’d never hear the sound of his heart again. Sharkbait was gone and I loved him no less and maybe even so much more for the wasted potential.

When someone suicides, or simply doesn’t try in life to succeed, I find that I love them nonetheless and also so much more. Knowing this, having experienced what I have, I try each day to love every person I encounter more and more. I’m not always perfect, but I damn sure try, and no one is less off for my love.

I recall very vaguely the few days following my miscarriage where my mum flew me to where she was in Vegas at a conference, so I could be near her. It was a blaze of booze, cigarettes, and a roulette table. It was late nights sitting on a pillow in the bathroom so she wouldn’t be awoken by my sobs.

I thought I would die. I wished for it. It was a shit year full of mental health crisis from my undiagnosed PTSD (at the time) that I couldn’t acknowledge because of stigma. The same stigma that makes people not talk about suicide or miscarriage. The things that make us appear so vulnerable in its’ honesty, so we bottle them up like they don’t exist… until they boil over in the dark of night… at bar closing when we’ve had too much to drink… in whispered circles with intimate friends… in the awkward pause when someone says that I don’t know the pain of childbirth without remembering they know my hidden shame.

When I lost him I told myself the sympathetic response that we’re now taught not to say… “At least you can have more kids one day”… “ At least you’re free now from being tied down”… and the list goes on. No one told me those things, they were mine to say. Mostly other people would stutter, at a loss for words, often they still do. The empathic response I’ve been told are the ones that helped me pick up the pieces and change my own mindset. “I understand.” “Me too.” “I love you.” “I’m here for you.” The most valued response was the love I was given.

Through my own ongoing struggles with suicide post-Iraq, my miscarriage almost broke the camels back. The next year around this time I became even worse than before with my thoughts and behaviors of suicide. In the interim I’d connected to an organization that provided me the opportunity to live and serve others, I did so as a promise to the lost potential from my miscarriage. I felt I had to take on and be the potential, make my life something of value.

It wasn’t enough. The one year anniversary came and I was a mess. There were people who didn’t know my full story, and still won’t unless they read this blog. It didn’t stop those people from loving me regardless of their knowledge of me. They saved me, helped me carry what felt like an impossible burden. I still could not speak of it. Nonetheless, I was loved beyond measure.

Through multiple programs, therapies, medications, struggles with binge drinking, and not always making good decisions I have been loved regardless of how well others know me. You don’t even know what you don’t know about another person. So you have to go on faith that you love things about them you couldn’t even imagine.

We all have secret pains. We all suffer shame and guilt. We all let society and it’s stigma hold us back from the edge of living our true lives and being our true selves.

If you’ve suffered a miscarriage, have a mental health diagnosis, struggle with suicide or addiction, or even feel as if your life is happy and easy, whatever you are, whatever you do… I love you, I really do, even though I likely don’t even know you. You can take faith knowing that you are loved. You are not alone. I look for you in the street, so we can share a smile and be connected a little more. even if only for a second… because nonetheless I will always love you, the same way as after 4 years I still love my Sharkbait that never got to live, but somehow helped me find a life worth living.

Original Post on Medium.

Kansas City, MO

2am and Sober

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Sometimes I like it here, in the deep of the night. The 2am without alcohol. The alone-ness of my apartment. Everything around me is silent, except the fan on my ceiling and the low hum of the refrigerator. If I sit quiet enough it becomes like I don’t exist. Slowly without thought drinking cold water from a glass. I can feel my muscles tense and move in my shoulders as I lift the glass to my lips. The silence is almost deafening.

The small sounds are present like white noise in a mothers womb. It is as if I am encapsulated in a bubble that is safe, serene, and without emotion. My mind clears itself to match the silence outside my body. It begins to drift, not to anything in particular, just to drift. My mind samples this thought and that, but has no attachment to any of them. I consider going to bed, but I can’t, because in this moment I just am. I won’t go to sleep yet, because I want to hold on to this peace for as long as I can.

It is in this moment of peace that I plan for tomorrow. I plan to be tired in the morning, but recall this moment where I just was. I will recall how I felt a part of everything and nothing all at once. I will recall how this moment is different than the 2am’s where I drank till I couldn’t remember what time it was. How this moment is different than other 2am’s sober. This is a different moment, where I am not haunted by the dark. Where I cannot be scared by visions of my past, present, or future. It is a place where I can know that the dark is not always to be feared and full of enemies.

I think of the quote that I keep saying over and over, “Be so full that even if they take and take and take you can still be overflowing.” (Alison Malee)

It comes to me in this moment of silence, at the end of the night, when I should have been in bed hours ago. It makes me think of how just at this 2am moment I am in a place that I can refill my cup. I don’t want to be anything but a giver, and so I must continuously learn to find new ways to stay overflowing. In the moments where my vehicle won’t move in traffic and I see the shadow of the clouds shift on the trees around me. In the moments where I take a break to walk or just stand and stretch during a conversation. It is the 2am moments where I feel that I am a part of the whole big world, but nothing in it at all.

I have seen many 2am’s where it’s all hazy and exhausting and often forgotten or needed to be pieced back together. I don’t know who really enjoys that kind of 2am. I could be found crouching somewhere crying or would have disappeared all together. My feet always hurt and often my face was tight from the make-up and the cigarettes. I would drive home hoping to not get pulled over or hit anyone and it was a miracle when it never happened. I hardly felt safe, never serene, and always filled with too many emotions. It is amazing I survived those roller coaster nights. It is amazing that I was too drunk to suicide, though often the thought crossed my mind. I would pass out before I could do anything else. It is amazing I am giving that up, no matter how hard it is to not drown my sorrows.

A character in a television show was asked why he did drugs and drank. His response “I suppose it was because I did not like myself very much.” That stuck with me. I like myself very much now and I work very hard to love myself as well. There are a million reasons to run from having to like and love myself, but they are merely excuses. So when I sit here at 2am and am Sober, I know that I am breaking down my own barriers to being overflowing in my life. With this serenity and fullness comes happiness, joy, and prosperity in my life. The person that I did not like very much is not really here anymore. I don’t want to forget it, I won’t let myself, and so I write to record the person who I am becoming.

The person you are at 1:59am is not the person you are at 2am. I hope that in the change of a moment you grow and do not whither. That you find hope and not fear. That you find peace and not conflict. So stop at any moment, and pause, look around you, take a deep breathe, listen to what you can and cannot hear. Search in the moment of silence for the sensation of how you are a part of everything and at the same time nothing in this world. Just be.

Original Post on Medium.

Kansas City, MO

Take Heart, So Dear and Brave

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Dear, brave, heart, the world is not what you expect of it.

Expectations, are not what you believe of them. They are things which are made up. Expectations are living creatures that creep up on you from the shadows and lay out a specific path for you to follow. These creatures crawl around on many legs, with many forms, and many virtues. They strive to control the person you desire to be. Expectations as they live and breathe are movable things, they are fluid, and they can be rejected. Their master is those who create them, and their slave is those who follow them. For the person who understands what in their life they can control, they will be both master and slave. They will create the creature that lays their path.

Sometimes, people yell at you, when you do not deserve to be yelled at. These are the moments when others force their expectations upon you, and they feel you fail to deliver on their creations. They desire to be the master and the expectation their muse. As master and muse they crave a slave and creation. They desire a puppet that cowers to tone and volume of their yell. All the while, they do not realize what it is they are a slave to themselves. For not a single master is not also a slave to expectations. So stay brave, dear heart. For if you know what you control, then they cannot enslave you.

Sometimes, you take a step too far past the line of respect. No matter how brave a heart may be or how much they try a heart may fail with the best of intentions. Life is a progress, not a perfection. However, there are hearts that are not as brave and loving as you are, dear one. There are hearts full of shadows, scratching claws, and gnashing teeth. They wear masks and try to fool us. They do not have the best of intentions. They walk the line of respect looking for a foothold, for a thinning of the line, where they might cross. We must be wary and watchful for hearts such as these that shed not love and instead seek to lessen us. For a heart so brave and true, you know what you can control.

Sometimes, you cannot go back on your actions. This is a thing you can control dear one. However, you can choose new ones. You can choose to change how your body moves and if it hurts or heals yourself and others. Hindsight is often known to be the clearest form of sight, but it is not a vision which can be undone. You must find strength to make new choices on your actions. Promote a world where you can be who you are, and where others expectations are not your master. So no, you cannot change the past, but you can improve the future. By choosing the way in which you reach out and touch the world you can become even braver dear heart, this you can control.

Sometimes, an attitude gets in the way. Attitudes are controllable when we are paying attention to ourselves, dear one. Emotions and thoughts can spin us around like a top on a table which falls off the edge and clatters to the floor. They affect our actions. They affect our attitudes. We feel so spun up and out of control and wrapped in our own yo-yo yarn that we forget the way in which we can control our lives. Believe in something that you struggle to see, dear heart, your own ability. Allow that to untangle you. You choose how to show what is going on inside of you. You can determine what others see in you. Shine with vulnerability, honesty, and compassion. Let your attitude be not one of division, but one of humanity and equality. Let it be an attitude of love for yourself and others. Dear heart, this will be hard, but you are brave.

Sometimes, they love you when you do not deserve to be loved. What an odd thought, dear one. That you would think yourself unworthy of being loved by another, perchance for no other reason than because it is good and right to do so. Love is a sparrow that flies across the sky to the destination which it most desires. It is difficult for us to control the flight of a wild sparrow in search of its’ chosen destination. Being loved is not up to us, if we are loved, then we deserve to be loved. It is not a gift which once given can be given back. Though, there are times that you take love back. We control our own sparrows so full of love and the destination in which we desire them to land. Do not shy away from the multitude of sparrows in your heart waiting to soar to the farthest reaches or the coldest shores. For loving is about giving unto others, for no other reason than you desire to. Dear, brave, heart, I hope you soar.

Always, you should set your own expectation to move forward. You should look for what you truly control in your life, and that which you cannot. You should follow your dreams, dear heart. You should take to the sky and continue going until your life becomes one in which you know you are safe and loved. A bird in a storm does not give up, but takes shelter for the moment. Emotions come and go, so do people. Both can be equally overpowering. Dear heart, you know what you can control. The strength in your being with each beat of your muscles continues without thought. This is why you move forward, why you keep learning, and why you can make choices in your life.

The world can be cruel and will most definitely throw wrenches into the gears of your life. Sometimes, you may wonder how to end these wrenches in life that tear you up and sometimes stop your functions. You can’t my dear, brave, heart, you just cannot. It is as much a fact as gravity on earth. There are things in life which you can control, and this is just not one of those things. These other things which you can control will be the difference between a life where you are whole and overflowing or a life where you are less than you might desire because the wrenches took control. A life of greatness awaits you, my dear, brave, heart.

In all the things that you control, just remember the basic rules. Always, if it hurts you or another, stop, turn back, reject that direction. Otherwise be you, and expect others to be them, my dear, brave, heart. Go now, walk on, take flight, and soar. Take Heart, so dear and brave.

Kansas City, MO

Be Human, Not a Box Checker

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Often in my daily life I hear a request for quantitative metrics to support actions I am doing or suggesting they take at work. When looking at metrics that is compiled there are two main types, quantitative and qualitative. Quantitative metrics is about numbers. These metrics can be easily compiled into a pie chart, a bar graph, or any number of tools available that give a simple picture of a situation. It allows a person or company to look at specific information and compare it to each other to better understand the service or product. I appreciate quantitative metrics, it gives me a good picture of what is going on. Despite the popularity of quantitative metrics, I love qualitative metrics even more so.

Qualitative metrics, or data, is descriptive in nature. It is harder to organize qualitative data into a nice clean pretty graphic that can be understood by the masses. To me qualitative data tells a story. I am a storyteller. Stories are about life, and life is hardly ever only nice, clean, and pretty. The more I hear pressure to ensure that I can have quantitative metrics, the more I begin to wonder what these metrics can really tell us. Sometimes it seems like it becomes so much pressure to have good metrics that the reason behind why we do things changes or maybe doesn’t even exist anymore.

I have coined the term “Be Human, don’t check boxes.” I seem to say it a lot in explanation for why I want to do things differently than those around me. Though I see the good of quantitative metrics I more resoundingly hear the stories of quality. This doesn’t mean that we should stop measuring the numbers and making pretty little graphics. What I mean is I believe in my life that if you are human then the boxes will check themselves.

What does being human look like?

Being human is the essence of knowing your story, listening to someone else’s story, and processing what that means. If we only ever look at numbers then we miss the real picture. We miss the things that are between the numbers. Being human is about being focused on listening. It is doing the right thing because it is for the good of another person or even just for the good of yourself. When you put the qualitative data, the human story, before the numbers you have the ability to ask questions. You ask open, Socratic, questions that allow an individual to dig deeper within themselves to find the answers that best fit their life. This is where you will learn the really important things about those around you. Just don’t expect them to fit into your nice little boxes like you may desire.

If someone took the time to listen to you and help you process information and seek your own answers, what do you suppose the survey results might look like? In my world, when someone listens, respects, and honors my decisions I attempt to ensure that they receive accolades for a job well done. If you are human and treat me as human then I will respond in kind fulfilling your need for metrics. Consider those around you that you interact with. The ones that you are drawn back to, that you become friends with, are typically the ones who listen to you and respect you. We all have issues in our lives, and some of us are trying to get over listening to the negative voices and allowing people to treat us poorly. If you don’t think that you are surrounded by people who listen, support, and respect then get out. Be human for yourself!

Being human is about kindness, caring, and compassion. Being human is about being vulnerable and building deep relationships that help you through hard times. Struggles will always come, but the more human we are with one another, the easier we can make the struggle. This is our reality, not a pie chart or a movable bubble graph, but the real heart of life that is seen through the stories we tell. We see the pain and the anguish that occurs in life and through the actions of being human we are able provide comfort. We see the joys and achievements which allow us to celebrate together.

This is why when I schedule one hour for a person, if they need two, I take it, and I work hard to ensure I value that time given to me. I slow my own life down enough to listen to what another person is saying to me. Communication is more than just the words we say, it is the words we don’t say, the way we say them, and how we act when we do this. It is the stepping stone that has built us into this monolithic society which often can overpower the human aspects of our lives. The thing which built us is most easily forgotten in the rush and the pressure of our day to day lives.

I challenge you

I challenge you to ask yourself if you are being human or if you are merely trying to check boxes? Do you slow yourself down long enough to give your child the time they so deserve and desire? Do you pause and look up to give a smile to a stranger on the street? Do you stop to consider what else is going on in a persons life when they are struggling at work? Do you give yourself time to find internal value and provide the self-care that is so important to who you are? Find questions like these to ask yourself and then ask: what would make me more human?

On an occasion I sit down with a person and I just hold space. I reserve the need to provide a response to what they are sharing. Eventually when I break the hold I ask reflective questions based on what they just told me. This allows for the individual to seek their own answers and know I was listening to them. I support them in what they are doing. On occasion those individuals dive even deeper into their story than they originally intended to go. I do not do this to cause distress, I do this because being human comes with emotions. I work to hold space for my friends and those I interact with to feel their emotions and take the time to think over what they are sharing. This is just one way in which I work to be human, instead of checking boxes.

In a society where we all work remotely and the internet is sometimes our best friend and confidant I want to reconnect with those around me. I want to develop myself and those I interact with in a way that is so normal to human nature that it creates a safe space for both of us. Not every person has intentions to be vulnerable, emotional, or even really dig deep. As part of being human I respect their right to reveal what they desire to reveal. I just want to ensure they know I am here for them, and I support them.

In this same mode I have to be human to myself. This is self-care. As I work on a project that looks to understand self-care better a friend asked me “and self-care?” I went off prattling on about the topic I am researching only to have him correct me and say, “no, your self-care?” I laughed in amusement as I responded that what kind of time do I have for my own self-care when I am so busy trying to understand how to help others with their self-care. He just chuckled back and waited for my response. If I want to be human to other people I have to be human to myself. We are actually such fragile creatures, feel free to disagree, but I believe we are. We build up these walls around us and focus on other things. No emotions for me! Though the reality is that if you numb one emotion, you numb them all. So they are all still there, you just decide which ones to let out, while the others just build up. In my needing to be human for myself I feel every single wonderful and horrible emotion that comes with the title of being human. I find ways to care for myself through this roller coaster of life, like writing.

I dare you to evade it forever, for it will find you. It will creep up in the night and you will find some sort of substance or task to build a wall right over that emotion. If you practice self-care and embrace the human that you are, then the walls won’t be as necessary. We won’t try fitting people into boxes anymore. Though quantitative metrics will still be alive and well… Though there are people who will continue to count the beans… we won’t need to focus on checking the boxes, because by being human they will already have been checked.

So today I dare you, how will you be more human?

Kansas City, MO

Suicide: When No One Answers

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A few months ago I had my 31,642nd breakdown (actual number may vary), while climbing into an MRI machine at the KCVA for what felt like the millionth time. They stopped the scan, pulled me out of the machine, and handed me tissues. I told them that I was only there because I’m a good little sailor and the doctors wanted it. The thing the tech said next sticks with me, “You’re not in the military anymore, no one can give you orders, only do this if you want to.” It’s amazing how this one sentence helps me deal with thoughts of suicide, when no one answers the phone.

I drew this over the weekend as I thought about the mental health of myself and those I love.

I really, really, really fucking care that people are killing themselves. Yes, three really’s were necessary. I care so much because I have found a life that I love, despite struggles with suicide, and I want others to find hope and a life they love. Sometimes I care so much because it’s a little selfish. If there aren’t people that care this much then how do I justify continuing to live through the darkness that comes over me. I wonder if life is worth it when people suicide. I pick up my phone and I reach out to so many people, looking for someone to hold my hand or just listen to me cry. I try to vary the individuals that I reach out to, because I don’t want them to give up on me when I give up on myself. More often than not I get loving texts telling me they are unavailable, but give many fucks about me. They say I love you, I miss you, I want to see you soon. I reread the texts over and over thinking about seeing them soon, or hearing their voice. I wonder, what do I do? What do I do when no one answers the phone? When it feels so dark and so alone and I can’t seem to contact a person who is available or no one answers my calls… what then?

I have to remember that I am not in the military anymore, so I get to make my own decisions. Whether you were ever military, still are, or never were, just know; you get to make your own decisions too. Having thoughts of suicide is not unusual, more people than you think deal with them, including myself. You get to make decisions for yourself, so if you are thinking of options to deal with your thoughts, before choosing suicide, here are some alternatives to try:

What do I do when no one answers, and I’m at the end of my rope?

I could call 911 on myself

This seems an unlikely decision, but if I don’t know that I can live through the next 5 minutes and the 5 after that and so on, then I should pick up the phone and call. If I can safely navigate to an emergency facility, that is also an option. Likely though, if I’m in a dark place, I shouldn’t drive a car. I shouldn’t be alone if I worry that I can’t trust myself to make life-saving decisions. If I already have a plan I should also not be by myself to go through with that plan, so I can call for emergency help.

I could call the National Suicide Hotline and talk to someone

1–800–273–8255 (1 for veterans) Text Home to 741741 Chat Online

Calling a hotline is a pretty safe anonymous thing. If you don’t desire to go to a facility or call 911, then these are the people to call. They will help you find other ways to go. They will listen, really listen, as you share what is going on and what you desire for yourself. Use the information in this poster to contact them.

I can put down the drugs and alcohol

Using substances that alter your body chemistry may seem like a great idea, but it doesn’t help you have peace of mind and make decisions that are healthy for you. If you can’t stop, then go to a hospital to get help to stop. They have options to help you come down off of a substance safely. If the easiest way to stop is to lay down and go to sleep, try that. I stopped drinking for a whole year of my life because it was my go to cure, it was not an answer. It was terribly hard, but now if I am struggling I work really hard to not drink as a crutch. I got help and relearned how to manage my life and alcohol, instead of it managing me.

I could take a shower

Showers are a great way to calm down the body and the soul. It also helps you get ready to go to sleep. Some people say that eating an orange in the shower is an enlightening experience, maybe this is a chance to try that. If an orange isn’t available, maybe a banana or some celery and peanut butter. Maybe your thing is a bath with the computer propped on the toilet playing Mad Men on Netflix. I like to brush my teeth and then shower to calm down. Finding routine activities to care for yourself can help your mind and soul feel more at ease, as well as your body.

I could eat something

Have you eaten today? I often find that when I am struggling with thoughts of suicide if I eat something it helps regulate my body. You would be surprised how many times when I am struggling emotionally it is correlated with a lack of food in my system. Even if you think it won’t help, what’s the harm of cleaning all the potato chips out of the cupboard?

I could drink a glass of water

Last fall I was having a really rough go of things and I called a friend in panic because I thought I would do something stupid instead of facing the stressful Annual Training I had starting the next day. She was patient and kind and said “When did you last drink a glass of water?” I didn’t know. She said “Go drink a glass of water, the full thing. Don’t chug it, just drink it. When it’s gone, call me back.” I found this suggestion extremely helpful. It calmed my breathing and I was able to refocus myself on doing other ideas on this list. I didn’t call her, she got a text instead, telling her I was doing better and what my next steps were to stay safe.

I could create

Often when I am at the end of my rope I start drawing, painting, writing, or whatever creative thing fulfills my need to release the pressure built up inside me. Maybe you play music, sing along with the radio, or like to rearrange your furniture. Find a way to express yourself that also shows kindness to yourself. If you don’t like it the next day, chuck it, hide it, whatever works.

I could workout

Working out could change the chemistry going on in my body and help ease my mental discomfort. Certainly, it can be distracting with some loud rock music blaring in my ears as I beat the shit out of my stationary bike or exercise ball (yeah, my workout equipment is LAME). You could go for a walk, or a run if you are in a safe neighborhood too. I am also a big fan of doing yoga off of YouTube to help find some semblance of gravity in my moments that I am ready to float away forever. Do you want to borrow my Insanity DVDs? They truly define insane… and are practically brand new!

I could try meditation or mindfulness

I also love YouTube for this one. Or one of many apps, Headspace and Insight Timer are two that I have heard a lot about lately. Look for videos or podcasts on meditation or mindfulness. This one is unique and I have some friends who get a good kick out of it: F*ck That, An Honest Meditation. There are also more serious ones out there that can help with any number of emotions or getting to sleep.

I could go to sleep

If you go back and read my first blog on medium you can understand a small picture of what I went through on my first tour overseas. One of the things I contribute to making it through that deployment was the idea that if I go to sleep then maybe tomorrow I will wake up and it will all be different. Every night, every time I thought of doing something stupid, I would tell myself this and I would crawl into bed. The next day it was often the same shitty thing in the same shitty place. One day I woke up and they said I could go home finally. Even after I came home my adjustment was rough. I would do the same thing, just go to sleep, and have hope that tomorrow would bring new things. What I can tell you is it doesn’t cure the issues to just go to sleep, but it does allow your body and mind rest so tomorrow you can do something different to change your life.

Hope for tomorrow

Sometimes you can only plan for a second or 5 minutes at a time, sometimes you can only hope for tomorrow. That’s okay, because tomorrow you can find new resources to help you further. You’ve drank a big glass of water, you’ve eaten some food, you’ve showered, you’ve called for help, and you’ve cared for yourself by reading this blog and trying some of the things listed. It doesn’t matter if you still have thoughts, but I hope that you have found hope for tomorrow. Tomorrow you can find a mental health provider to help you or a program that can provide new opportunities to be you.

Take this opportunity to make a decision for yourself. One that is kind to yourself, and shows love, even if you don’t feel it right now. Know I’m loving you. If you’re stuck, reach out, even to me… this cheesy but serious blog writer. I love you and I don’t even know you yet, please stay here with me.

❤ Vic

Kansas City, MO

Remember 3 Months…

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My fortune from Oct 11, 2016

I received the fortune pictured here while out with my coworkers for the monthly Birthday lunch at Bo Ling’s in Kansas City. The food was fine, but this fortune was even more memorable: “Remember three months from this date! Your lucky star is shining.” For 3 months I have had this sitting on my desk, reminding me of the future to come. Every once in a while I would tell my coworkers the date that this fortune should come true and we would imagine what the day would hold. I think my coworkers thought it was a joke at first when I said I was marking my calendar for 3 months from October 11, 2016. They had only known me a month and they rapidly found out that I am a high-spirited very-imaginative free spirit.

As the 3 month date drew closer I kept asking what people thought would happen. At this point I had dressed up as multiple characters for work and randomly brought sweet treats and gifts. We were all hoping for something spectacular to come on January 11, 2017. Secretly in my head I was conspiring to meet the love of my life and get married or come by some windfall that sets me up for my career. I imagined being gifted something exciting or getting a raise. I thought maybe something special would happen at work, or we would find an answer for a client that solved their problems right away.

So I woke up on January 11, 2017 and as I performed my new morning ritual with an extra bounce in my step I applied make-up, which is not often a work day task. I packed my lunch, made my cup of coffee, and made sure I was wearing pants (I may occasionally almost go to work in PJs). I drove to work listening to Tribe by Sebastian Junger, which is quite inspiring. My day started off with clients that are looking to improve their lives and working alongside some coworkers that I think are just fantastic. My AmeriCorps partner was wearing an outfit similar to mine. I only now regret not taking a photo together to show off. I had a lot of things to accomplish today and not too heavy of a schedule. As time went by I accomplished much, but time was going slow. My partner and I did our regular team download and brain storming (aka Coffee Run). We all ate lunch together and problem solved together. We laughed together and we joked about what was so special to come. Our supervisor was out of the office today, but that never makes much difference, so that didn’t seem too special.

I even showed this note to the cashier

As the day wore on the team consensus was that I needed to play the lotto. The thing about that is that I have only ever played the lotto one other time and I was super embarrassed when I had to ask how it worked at the gas station as I bought the ticket. I have always earned my luck, it’s rarely been just handed to me. So my co-workers were kind enough to explain the process and then upon seeing my still confused face they wrote down specifically what I was supposed to ask the gas station attendant for. I said that I would hold the note and read it verbatim. That is exactly what I did.

In addition to the normal work day I trouble shot some travel details for a Team Rubicon Applied Suicide Intervention Skills Training that we have coming up soon in Omaha. The task was stressful, but came out perfectly because team work makes the dream work and I love my TRibe. I chatted with a guy on Tinder that seems really nice, funny, and has great eyes! I felt good in my body because it’s Day 11 of not smoking. My apartment is clean, I rode the stationary bike (finally), and I took the time to meditate. I have said my prayers and read some books. I even treated myself to a delicious pizza. I used a new face wash that makes my face feel so soft.

So here I am, 30 minutes till the end of January 11th and I don’t think that as I crawl into bed anything really spectacular or different than usual will occur.

For $8 all together I let my imagination hope for something big to happen

The results for the Power Ball and the Missouri Lotto came out and I did not win at either. The gas station attendant had pointed out that if I had brought the fortune we would use the numbers on the backside. I left the actual slip of paper at my office. Tomorrow, just for fun, I will compare the winning numbers to those on my fortune. I also played a scratcher, and won nothing. What I find all the more amazing is that nothing matched, not a single number, on any of them. I suppose if luck is real and there is a zombie apocalypse I will be the first bitten.

But as I said, I have never just been given luck, I have always worked for it. I am not disappointed however in how today turned out. With the new year I have been dreaming of adventures in foreign places doing new things. This yearning was not fulfilled today, but in looking for my shining star I paid close attention to every aspect of my day. This allowed me to really invest in myself and my actions to try and make every moment the best possible moment. This is the idea behind setting goals, and we just need to believe it with as much imagination as me and my coworkers paid attention to January 11th.

Everyday can be a metaphorical January 11th because we can make it that way. The things I listed that happened today I was able to find great amounts of gratitude for them, knowing that in reality it was unlikely I would win the lotto tonight. I have hope for great things in my life, and you know what? I am going to keep this fortune on my desk and set a note in my calendar for 3 months from today. I don’t think my lucky star will ever stop shining, because I work hard for it, but… just in case… I will “Remember 3 months from today.” I will dream, I will hope, I will imagine, and I will keep making my own luck.

Make your own fortune and mark the calendar. What are you going to hope for? What are you going to work towards to create your own luck? I know you can do it! Good Luck!

Original Post on Medium

Kansas City, MO

A New Year, New Day, New Moment

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Photo found at: http://bit.ly/2j62K0k

I woke up on January 1st 2017 in a haze from going out the night before. I was reminded of the person I used to be and as I chugged water to shake the hang over out of my head I thought about why I worked so hard to not be that person. Every year I hope that January 1st will come and I will be sprinkled with magical fairy dust which makes me thinner, healthier, and happier. Basically not me. And nothing has every really changed. This January 1st I woke up with a sense of knowing that I am clinging to now, ten days later. It feels prophetic and immense in nature. It is a sensation that I can only describe as hope for the future in a way that feels very alive like a roaring fire inside of me.

Instead of holding my New Year’s (over)celebration against myself, I forgave myself. I opted to choose love towards myself as I tried to discover where my cell phone had gone the previous night and how I had made it home. I reminded myself that I won’t be perfect and will sometimes let myself down. I don’t want to be perfect, sometimes being imperfect is more fun… but only if I can forgive myself the next day. Otherwise it is an unbearable reality that threatens my whole self.

In 2009 while I was training to go to Iraq I jokingly bummed a cigarette, lit it, and smoked it. The exhilaration of a change in chemistry made me smoke a second, then a third, eventually buying my own packs and cartons. I swore I would quit when I came home from Iraq. It was easy to make an excuse, I mean for goodness sake, I was at war. Even my parents made that excuse for me. I came home and swore I would quit. I kept smoking. I went to Afghanistan and smoked several packs a day. I proved I could quit mid tour when I stopped smoking for 5 weeks to prove a point to someone. At the end of that 5 weeks I decided to start smoking again. I don’t think I forgave myself for smoking, I just made different and better excuses. Then I just owned my failure and said I had no excuse except I liked the taste of a cigarette with coffee and the burn of the smoke in my throat. Even that was an excuse to keep punishing myself.

When I woke up ten days ago I didn’t just forgive myself for partying too much the night before. I forgave myself for everything that has been the last 8 years and it has taken 10 days to understand.

There are two kinds of people at New Year’s, the kind that make resolutions and the kind that say resolutions are worthless. I heard a lot from both sides coming up to New Year and I didn’t make up my mind about what my goals for 2017 would be until I woke up on the 1st. Those who make resolutions choose to side with hope for themselves and for the future. Those who say resolutions are worthless side with doubt, also for themselves and for the future. I am sure that many will say they have different reasons, but when it boils down to it, don’t you think that sounds right? Setting goals is the difference between hope and doubt. Even trying and failing year after year, a person still chooses hope. Several years ago I stopped trying.

I have been trying to get back to myself. More so, I have been trying to find the me that I don’t recall knowing, the person that I love and trust. Not the person who punishes myself with bad choices and negative thoughts. I started trying a few years back, not because it was the 1st of the year, but because I knew that I could not continue unless I found a different answer than the ones that I gave myself. I work with programs like Warriors’ Ascent not just to help other people but also to continue helping myself. As I help and encourage others to meditate, do yoga, and practice introspection I still struggle. I don’t expect that they won’t struggle still and always. What I have seen in the last several years that trying is hope and it can bring new life and new breathe to a person. I have kept going, sometimes in a direction that feels like I am pushing a boulder up a hill. I have time and again reminded myself that there are answers I don’t yet have and I have to keep going. In high school I used to run, but ever since Iraq I don’t like running, likely because I feel like my whole life is running without a goal in sight.

The thing is that looking back on the years there have been many moments like January 1st 2017. It is a moment where something I have been searching for clicks. Something that I have been trying to understand or grasp or learn just suddenly makes sense and I find a sense of ease. The boulder disappears and my journey becomes a little easier. I pray for these moments. I pray that I move from knowing how to make my road a little easier to doing the actions that get me there. So I stopped.

Photo Found at: http://bit.ly/2iDNFjb

I did not go to the store for a pack of cigarettes. I told myself 5 more minutes. For Christmas my parents gave me a book called Getting There: A Book of Mentors where Michael Bloomberg says “If your mind starts to wander to past events, the only advice I can give you is don’t go. Just stop it! Think about something else. If you divert your attention, your mind won’t immediately go back to the unpleasant occurrence, and when it eventually does, simply stop thinking about it again. That’s how you quit smoking. You don’t have to stop for the rest of your life, just stop for five minutes.” He then goes on to say at the end of 5 minutes if you want a cigarette, wait another five minutes. When I read this it really started to turn some gears back into place. Whatever you think of Michael Bloomberg, his words are true. I have been using this idea to interrupt my panic attack for a couple years, but never thought to apply it elsewhere in my life.

It’s a New Year, each day is a New Day, each 5 minutes is a New 5 Minutes, and each moment is a New Moment. In a moment of time the gears finished moving back into place and as I forgave myself for one evening, that would normally disrupt the whole course of my life, I somehow started forgiving myself for everything. It’s been 10 days without a cigarette, no e-cigarette, no nicotine anything, just me and 5 minutes at a time. Just me and forgiving myself and truly starting to treat myself as if I love myself. But it didn’t happen in only one moment, it happen in a million moments that built up overtime and altered my course. It is the multitude of moments and minutes and days and years that keep moving forward to continue choosing life over death.

Each of these 10 days that I have not smoked I have spent those 5 minute intervals (the length of a normal cigarette) thinking deeply about loving myself. I have started a list of how to love myself better. I have left plenty of blank space on the list for the future ideas. I have started meditating again, am sleeping better, feel better, and am falling in love with myself.

I hope you find inspiration and seek the 5 minutes or the moments that bring you hope for the future. Happy New Year! Happy New Day! Happy 5 Minutes! Happy Moment!

Original Post on Medium.