Thanks so much for coming by for this story, but the revision of Half-Breed to Metis was published in error on April 1st. It is scheduled for publication on April 18th.
Please come back then to read it, and in the meantime I hope you’ll enjoy my effort at short fiction that was published today called, “The Mirror”.
Warmest regards,
RL
While I’m off restoring my inner warrior, some friends have stepped up to bat to help me out by sharing some pretty amazing stories of growing triumphs of their own.
This guest story is from a dear friend of mine who has been, and continues to be, on a remarkable and sometimes unrecognizable, journey of transformation …
I went on my first diet in grade 5, at about 10 yrs old. I wasn’t huge; I just needed to lose 10 lbs or so – ‘to be normal’. My mom bribed me with a pair of the then popular stirrup pants because, “you can’t wear those if you’re heavy”. Of course I did it. Starved myself and lost the weight, but it only creeped back over the next few months plus another 10 lbs.
I only ever wanted to be normal. It’s been my goal for as long as I can remember. I didn’t need to be thin or beautiful, just normal. What I wanted now was for people not to stare at me as I walked through the mall. To avoid having children at the grocery store or hair salon ask their mothers, “Why is that lady so fat?” To be able to go on a bike ride or run around on the soccer field with my kids. Things that “normal” people do.
Of course, that was then and my idea of ‘normal’ has changed drastically since I started this journey…
There was never any reason for it, the constant weight gain. I came from an amazing, loving family who had high expectations of me, but nothing crazy. The truth is, I just love food and hate exercise. Always have, always will. Unfortunately, I eat when I’m happy, sad, or stressed.
When I’d go on a diet , it wasn’t just my stomach aching for food, but my heart too
.
I’ve gained and lost hundreds of pounds and had asked for help so many times, it was embarrassing. The answer was always, “Why don’t you try weight watchers and cut out the fried food.” Um, thanks for that…why didn’t I think of that? In fact, I was always an extremely healthy eater. I just ate too much, too often.
After 28 years of yo-yo dieting, using every program, supplement, clinic and cabbage soup recipe, someone gave me the courage to do something different. My two sisters-in-law, to whom I will always be grateful, finally stopped tiptoeing around the problem by stating outright that I needed medical help. I’d already known this, but I was always just too scared of what people would think to make the call.
From the time I finally did make that call, I spent over 18 months on a wait list before I was contacted again for an orientation about my options. It took another 6 months of several follow-up appointments, journaling, exercise, counselling and more before I was approved for the surgery I’d chosen.
On February 5th 2015, I had gastric sleeve surgery. I weighed 280 lbs after already losing 20 lbs by then. They cut out most of my stomach and left a pouch about the size of a banana. Yes, it was painful, but I had a goal and normal finally felt like it was within my reach.
The results since have been amazing physically, emotionally and in general growth. From my orientation of August 2014 to September 2015, I lost a total of 135 lbs, most since February 5th.
The transformation was apparently equally startling. I was surprised by the number of people who didn’t recognize me and the looks of shock on their faces was comical. Quite a few people literally did not recognize me; they thought I was my own sister.
From August 2014 to September 2015, I lost a total of 135 lbs
Shock aside, I’ve seen something beautiful happen too. When I show my before and after pictures to the people who really know me and love me, they are always surprised that I was ever that big. The one thing I’ve learned is that those people never saw the outward person that I was always embarrassed about. They just saw me.
The extended pluses: I can now do any exercise I want. My debilitating back pain is gone. I don’t need an afternoon nap. I walk in public and don’t constantly wonder what all those staring people are thinking of me. I really don’t care anymore, which is weird for me. I’ve always cared. Always worried about what everyone else thinks. I’m also more comfortable around my husband in our more intimate situations. That’s a huge step for me. I even gained the courage to apply for and get a new job.
You’d think with all this joyous news I‘d be happy, complete, & unconcerned about the future. Well, the reality is that couldn’t be further from the truth.
Despite the overall success, I have one unusual drawback. I am still constantly bombarded with hunger and cravings – gnawing, painful hunger. Like my stomach is trying to eat itself, and while I am now more able, exercise is a daily mental struggle. I wish I was one of those people who started loving it, but I’m not.
Worse than all of that, is the fear. I am terrified of gaining the weight back and having everyone know I failed. After all the amazing people who helped and supported me, is it possible that I could allow my brain to derail me?
But, in a way, isn’t this what normal is? Aren’t we all afraid of failing…no matter what our goal or accomplishment? If only we could learn and truly believe success isn’t about a number on the scale, the level of education we’ve achieved, or the amount of money we have in the bank.
And so, this is the next goal for me. Learning to be happy with Karen, regardless of how much I weigh, or more importantly, what other people think of me. This is what should be ‘normal’.
-Karen Kelt
When life knocks you onto your buttocks and it feels like you may never catch your breath or a break again, sometimes something really, really wonderful shows up.
Maybe it’s not the lotto win or the love of your life, but it gives you at least a few minutes of awesome respite. Real awe. Awe, as in the original intention of the term, reverential respect, astonishment, extra special wonder…
I know inspirations can be anything for anyone, but for me, a little gem I came across a couple of years ago was positively heavenly in its level of power and I have returned to bow at it’s rainbow-hued unicorn hooves as much as needed since.
It is the 2010 Kennedy Center’s honoring of Sir Paul McCartney. It is a masterpiece of musical powerhouses, but within that group of exceptional talent, Steven Tyler, heartbeat of Aerosmith, brought me to my feet especially.
Steven’s initial magnificent mix is in this first link: Steven Tyler 2010 Kennedy Center Honoring Paul McCartney
But…
But…
If you really, really want to treat yourself to a show that brought the President of the United States, the First Lady, Oprah, the Sir Paul McCartney and even Sir Stoic, Colin Powell to their feet in joyous glee, watch the whole portion of that tribute: 13 Minutes and 50 Seconds of Sublime
If this doesn’t have you up in mind, body or spirit, somebody better call the coroner. You have to be dead.
RL
So, not every love story resembles the Harlequin Romance model or the Dr. Phil / Oprah recommendations of ‘healthy’, nor are they as far off the chain as the trailer park trashy gymnastics of the Jerry Springer couplings either.
Sometimes they’re the stuff of mythical proportions. Heady. Messy. Legendary – Taylor and Burton, Bacall and Bogart, Hepburn and Tracy – all grown from impossible drama seeds planted within the largest of human persona.
They’re the masters of the double black diamond slopes of emotional mountain ranges – INTENSE and tender, RAGING and nurturing, DANGEROUS and comforting Mythical Gods come to life, breathtaking to behold, and dizzily staggering to live with.
Not all are destined for fame or the full theatre; some of these lesser-sized immortals are merely just around the cul-de-sac circles, seemingly average neighbours, but just as fiery, and we knew two of them.
He will say she was unforgiving,
She will say he was unbearably untrustworthy.
He will say she is relentless wariness,
And she will say he mercilessly pushes her over limits.
He will say she is insanely focused on rules,
She will say his demands are cruel humiliations.
He will say she refuses to understand him,
She will say, seeking true empathy from him is like talking to the dead.
He will say she is every appalling name in the book,
And she will say, she loathes that he is only either angel or demon.
He seeks her adoring maternal nurturing,
She begs him to stand tall as a real & loyal hero.
She will say he burned down their home,
He will say she lit the match.
He will admit how awful he is,
She will concede that she aches for his good days.
He will say, he despises needing her this much,
She will say, she hates that she will never love another as deeply.
He will trim his beard for her,
She will grow her hair long for him.
He will kiss her neck,
She will take his hand in hers.
He will hold her face,
She will lean her head on his back.
He can be calmed only by living with the ordinary, the banal,
She can be safe only within strength without edges.
Their light has been, will be, entwined for eternity,
They will say goodbye,
1,001 times — or more.
…………………………………………………………………
Marianne Williamson said: “Until we have seen someone’s darkness, we don’t really know who they are. Until we have forgiven someone’s darkness, we don’t really know what love is.”
I’d add forgiveness does not mean having to keep anyone in your life. It means getting to your own genuine peace after exiting the dark.
Happy Love Day, to all. Here’s to the ups and downs and twists in life, regardless of the degrees, that steer us to our strengths, and hopefully, to our best love.
RL ❤
It would be crushing to write another Dejah story. Despite the privilege of being able to write about it, I wish there’d never been a Dejah Milne story in the first place. At least not the way it had to be written because otherwise the right story would say that his mother, father, and sister are still able to hold him and hug him whenever they want.
They’d be able to laugh with him, instead of at videos of his silly fun from days not so long gone by. They would be able to hear his ‘I love you too’s with his voice. They’d get to be angry with him for messing up the house, or coming home too late, or maybe denting the car’s bumper. I know they’d rather that kind of everyday eye-rolling frustration instead of coping with the anguish of his absence now, because at age 13 years, he wasn’t able to overcome the tumour that he’d carried for 10 years.
I don’t want to write those stories if it can be helped at all. I don’t know anyone who does. The problem is, that the problems that end with those stories aren’t finished yet. There are so many issues that need someone to stand up for them and in support of the cavalcade of teams who work tirelessly to end them once, and honestly for all.
These are the teams of people who have been called, or sometimes brutally and harshly forced, at a spirit level, to take charge in the parts of life that are painful, agonizing, hideous, and terrifying. That’s heroics.
They are thrown toward the front lines to take on the darkness for us. They stand and push as far as they can to get answers to the challenges that debilitate or outright steal loved ones from us. They strive to make our world better, easier, more livable.
They need little from anyone else when it’s all put into perspective. They’ve already taken on the heavy end of the fight. They’re slogging, sweating, bleeding, and crying so that the rest of us get to hang back and throw out what we are able, when we can even as, just like us, they still have to navigate the trials of everyday life.
They ask for our help, but not for things like go earn a science degree or a doctorate, or to put our lives on the line, or to organize any kind of effort beyond our ability.
Those calls are usually only pleas to be heard, for us to see what is happening, and they ask us to spend the least of what we wish to. Then they call us ‘their heroes’ for giving that bit.
Let’s get real please; they aren’t really asking for our heroics. They are asking us to share only a little of our resources to sustain their herculean efforts for our sake.
It doesn’t matter how we acknowledge that they’ve been heard. Spend your hour of time. Send your $2, $20, or your $20,000,000 if you can. Send your willingness to walk, run, dance, fast, drive, stand, or create, but whatever you do, please do not ignore these direct calls to your own soul. This is the least we can do, literally.
Look, whatever we choose to support today is directly connected to whatever is to be resolved tomorrow and in the issues in the days after that. Start by choosing one, any one cause that made you turn your face toward it for even a minute. We can all help another mother, father, son, brother, daughter and sister not have to spend another day in fear and grief. That’s kind of heroic, right?
RL
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