What I learned during Summer vacation

I don't know what it is about August, but it has always been hell month for me. It's not just the unending heat or the way my skin bristles every time the too bright sun touches it; life tends to triple its speed in August until I'm utterly worn out. By the time August ends, I am longing to hide in a cool bath in a dark room far, far away from telephones and to-do lists.

This August was no exception. Queen Teen had two trips to Stanford, plus a muscle biopsy (more on that later). Her recovery was good, but slow, and I got to battle with three different agencies for a shower bench (more on that to come later as well). I was frantically trying to finish the new website for Medusa's Muse before I went back to work (didn't make it). And then school started; I went back to teaching and she started the 11th grade. Rick and I juggled my return to work and QT's reduced school schedule (half days for now) with our usual strategy: take it day by day and stress out the entire time. Thankfully a good friend has helped out while I continued to look for regular child care

Now it is September and we are all starting to settle in to our new schedule. I harvested the basil this weekend and am making several pounds of pesto to enjoy this winter, and this year we enjoyed our first delicious crop of table grapes from our 8 year old vines. The summer was stressful because of the changes in Queen Teen's health. But it was also oddly peaceful. When I look back on the last few months, I see just how lovely our summer was (except for that dreaded August). And I learned some very important things.

What I learned during Summer vacation.

• Tomatoes need consistent watering or their skins will crack and the fruit become misshapen. 
• All those late nights and extra hours I spent teaching are totally worth it if I can have summer off. 
• It is important to spend time doing nothing. If you fill your days with tasks and to-do's and constant business, you never have time to truly enjoy being alive. Sit in your yard every day with your shoes off and watch your garden grow while listening to the humming birds fight over the flowers. 
• Doing the above is even nicer with a glass of good wine.
• Creating a peaceful space in your home, a place where no work is allowed, is very important for mental health. This space is even more helpful if you create it in your bedroom.
• Reading a book on a Kindle is fun. 
• Going to the mall with a typically developing teenage girl is fascinating, especially when you turn that girl lose in Abercrombie and Fitch.
• Having Queen Teen's best friend with her when Queen Teen had to get her biopsy made everything much better. We should always bring a friend (and not just one of my friends). 
• In-laws who will paint your bedroom and clean your kitchen are the greatest gift there is.
• Running feels good.
• A slower pace to match Queen Teen's lower energy is kind of a gift. Stress was reduced because she wasn't begging to do things all the time, and when we did go out, she seemed to enjoy it more.
• Sharing time with a person who is ill teaches you not to take things for granted. I know we've all heard that before, but when you're caring for your child who is struggling so much just to walk or eat, you realize how wonderful each moment of your life is. This child is precious and beautiful, and her time on this Earth is limited. We don't know how long, but I know I will out live her. So enjoy the days, the accomplishments, the set backs, the laughs. Enjoy and savor each breath. We all have limited time; don't waste your one beautiful life.
• But remember, enjoying your life doesn't mean filling it up with accomplishments. The time you spend with your family is far more important than what you think you need to achieve. 
• Working with your hands, rather than only with your brain, is extremely relaxing.
• Curious George is hysterical.
• Pumpkin plants need a lot of feedings if you want to make a pumpkin pie this fall. 
• A car with air conditioning equals liberation.

Neil DeGrasse Tyson - The most astounding fact.

Neil DeGrasse Tyson is one of my muses; his intelligence and ideas are inspiring. This explains better than anything my intuitive feeling about the meaning of life and our connection to everything. Beautiful.

My definition of faith

All right, that's enough feeling sorry for myself.

I have to put a time limit on having the blues, because I can really let myself sink way down deep into the darkness. It's too comfortable in there, all safe and alone inside my depression. Eventually, I've got to drag myself back out into the brightness of the world, whether I want to or not. Besides, I've got a lot to take care of right now.

For starters, I obviously need to go back to my doctor and discuss upping my meds again. I may no longer be suicidal, but being bitter and nihilistic doesn't mean my depression is cured.

There are bills needing to be mailed, groceries to be bought, a play to write, and my book publishing company to be focused on. There is more ASL to learn and a girl named Queen Teen needing my attention. No more hiding in my room listening to Nine Inch Nails and Soundgarden. It's Spring in Mendo. The birds wake me up at 6:00 am when the first glimpse of sunlight brightens the eastern horizon. The yard is shaking off the winter frost and stretching back to life. Weeds are popping up thicker than the perennials. The worm bin is overflowing and my lettuce starts need room to grow. It's time to get my hands dirty outside.

I had an epiphany yesterday while washing the dishes in my cluttered kitchen. All of the sudden, the concept of faith popped into my head. From my earlier posts you've probably gathered that I'm not religious. I used to be "spiritual" but even that has vanished, leaving me feeling uninspired by much of anything (depression again?). So it seemed odd that I'd be pondering the meaning of faith like that. But in that time, I created my own definition of the word.

Faith: the belief that life is fine just as it is. 

I may not feel it right now, but I have faith that the people and things in my life are good. Life is fine.

This is different from blind faith, which is pretending that everything is fine even though you haven't changed the things that need changing.

Real faith in your life comes from the understanding that you've done everything you can to solve what needed solving and what remains is life. I can not change Queen Teen, but I have done everything possible to help her. Therefore, I must have faith that she is okay just the way she is.

My definition isn't all that original; it's a cross between Buddhist mindfulness and The 12 Steps of AA. But it helps me. Taking a deep breath and focusing on faith is a very hard thing for this Type A, depressed control nut with deep abandonment issues. It's going to take me a while to really absorb my newly discovered faith in life.

And probably a little more help from my shrink too. But it's a start.

Spirit of Uganda

Queen Teen's class went to see "The Spirit of Uganda," at the Wells Fargo Center for the Arts in Santa Rosa last week, and I got to go with her. The Spirit of Uganda is a performance group made up of Ugandan children and young adults who have all lost parents to AIDS and war. They travel the globe representing the organization Empower Africa's Children. From their website:

Empower African Children is a non-profit organization inspired by success stories from more than 15 years of work with Africa's vulnerable children. Launched in 2006 by child advocate Alexis Hefley - whose work with Ugandan children has earned her international acclaim - Empower African Children's programs provide a fresh new approach that unlocks the potential of this generation through an innovative education. Its holistic approach to education provides tools for success in life, creating confident, skillful, visionary leaders.

Uganda has the highest number of orphans of any country in the world. The funds raised during the tour go to the orphanage and education program supported by Empower Africa's Children. The performance also shares the beauty and excitement of Ugandan music and dance, which I admit I knew almost nothing about.

The only things I knew about Uganda were Idi Amin,  AIDS, and the persecution of homosexuals. I didn't even know where exactly the country was located in Africa. Watching the performance made me curious, so I went on line and explored the history and culture of Uganda. With Lake Victoria as its southern border, Uganda is a part of the Nile river delta, rich with fish, game and plants. But it is a poor country, with more than 50% of the population under the age of 15 and the average lifespan for women age 52 (47 for men). These are the facts you'll get from reading Wikipedia, which could paint a mighty bleak image of Uganda, or any African country for that matter. What the Spirit of Uganda shows us is the heart and soul of the nation, not the hardship. The country is rich with resources and people. The humans who live there struggle, but also create beauty. Seeing the children dance while listening to the drums and songs helped me understand the strength of the people of Uganda, and made me want to visit there. Maybe I will someday.

As Queen Teen's Mobility teacher, it was my job to drive her and a friend to the theatre, and then arrange for them to go back stage to meet some of the performers. It's very hard for Queen Teen to see and understand what's happening on stage, even from the front row, so seeing a performer up close is really helpful.

We were guided back stage by the center's Education Program Director, who has been incredibly helpful every time Queen Teen has gone to see a show there. The performers, ages 11 through 20, were fabulous. Several dancers came out to meet Queen Teen and show her their costumes. They got really close so she could see what they were wearing, including the feathered belts around their waists and the bells on their ankles. And they talked directly to her, waited for her response, allowed her to touch their clothing and shake their hands. No one seemed nervous around a deaf-blind young woman in a wheel chair; they treated her like any other student wanting to meet performers before a show. The generosity of the young performers and the kindness they showed Queen Teen, without any hint of pity, impressed me greatly. (Here's a link from the Wells Fargo Center blog, and if you scroll to the bottom of that page, you'll see a picture of Queen Teen in her pink coat meeting the performers.)

And the show impressed everyone, including Queen Teen. She loved the drums and the dances, but got a little lost with the story telling (hard to understand when you can't hear the guy talking and both you and the person interpreting don't know enough ASL to help). Toward the end of the show, the storyteller invited us all to stand and dance with the performers. I jumped up and held out my hands to Queen Teen, who surprised me by standing, gripping my hands tightly, and dancing with the rest of the audience. She was grinning like a little kid and dancing as wild as her body would let her without falling. I kept a tight grip on her so she could lift her legs and flap her arms. When the dance was over, she said, "You thought I couldn't dance!" She was still grinning when the show ended, and she clapped as hard as her little hands could. 

If The Spirit of Uganda comes to your town, go see it.  You will be inspired and thoroughly entertained. Tell them Queen Teen sent you.

The most beautiful perspective on Autism I have ever read

This essay, written by Julia Bascom for Shift Journal, is the most beautiful and well written perspective on autism I have ever read. Ms. Bascom is autistic and writes about her experiences on her blog, Just Stimming.

Here is an excerpt from her essay, The Obsessive Joy of Autism:

image from Shift Journal

"I flap a lot when I think about Glee or when I finish a sudoku puzzle. I make funny little sounds. I spin. I rock. I laugh. I am happy. Being autistic, to me, means a lot of different things, but one of the best things is that I can beso happy, so enraptured about things no one else understands and so wrapped up in my own joy that, not only does it not matter that no one else shares it, but it can become contagious.

This is the part about autism I can never explain. This is the part I never want to lose. Without this part autism is not worth having."

To read the rest of her essay, click this link. You won't be disappointed.

Queen Teen doesn't have autism, but this essay helped me find new patience with her. Sometimes it's hard to accept who she is, when I still harbor the dream of what she could be. There are days when I'm really sick of all the challenges we have to deal with, but I'm sure her frustration is even greater. She's the one who has to live it; I'm just support staff. Sometimes it's hard to slow down and let her be herself when the world is pushing her to fit in, go faster, be "normal." But when I do, she shows me a world filled with more wonder and joy than any neuro-typical can see. This is her life and she lives it the best she can, usually with a smile on her face. She is strong and smart; don't let her visible frailty fool you. Queen Teen is a force to be reckoned with.

The fear of falling.

It was a scary couple of weeks after Queen Teen's fall. Her hand remained swollen and bruised, and even though the first set of x-rays showed no fractures, we waited anxiously for the second set to confirm. Sometimes it can take several day or weeks for a fracture to become apparent in an x-ray. Queen Teen wore a big black wrist brace and couldn't use her walker. Instead, Rick or I helped her walk.

But the worst thing was the depression. She became more sullen and moody every day. School was out for Thanksgiving break (a whole frickin week!) so there was nothing to distract her. She was mighty sick of movies after day three, and the distraction of Thanksgiving day only helped a little. By day five she was lying on her bed weeping because she couldn't find the Evil Step-Mother figurine that goes with the Cinderella. Plus, it was raining, which always puts her in a bad mood. I felt so bad for her and tried everything to keep her distracted and entertained, but when you can't even look at a book because your hand hurts too much, there isn't anything that will cheer you up. Happily, the second set of x-rays confirmed no fractures.

We all survived Thanksgiving break (mostly) and she went back to her doctor the first day of school. The doctor pushed and pulled on her wrist and hand to double check for hidden fractures or cracks, but other than a sore thumb and a couple of small bruises, Queen Teen seemed fine. She returned to school with a big grin on her face and we announced to her teachers and classmates that she was fine. She decided to keep wearing the brace though because using her walker hurt her hand without it.

Queen Teen has fallen this hard before. Three years ago she fell in the bathroom, hit her face on the sink, and knocked out a front tooth. Usually she falls about once a day, landing on her butt. Her pale skin is typically mottled with bruises, especially on her legs and feet. We've all become somewhat immune to the fear when she falls. Queen Teen curses her ataxia and gets back up on her own. Sometimes she needs help, like the day she fell into her closet and couldn't find a handhold to pull herself out. When I hear her fall in the next room, I listen closely to see if she's okay, but continue with what I'm doing. If we all didn't adapt to the worry of falling, all three of us would be drinking Vodka before 9:00 am.

But this fall felt different, because this fall scared her. Yes, she was seriously injured, which will rattle anyone, but in the days following the accident, she seemed scared to move. Not just because it hurt her wrist, but because she seemed afraid she might fall again. And I was nervous. The terror I felt when we thought she may have broken her wrist was oppressive. I still can't shake off the fear, the thought that she didn't break anything... this time. What about next time? What if she breaks her leg? She and I clung to each other a lot more than usual, and not just because of the injury or the fact that she needed more help. Our confidence in her ability to always get back up when she fell was shattered.

Queen Teen recovered more quickly than I did. One morning I heard her try to walk to the bathroom on her own, heard her shout "Whoa!" as she began to fall. I jumped out of bed and ran to her side, scolding her to wait for me, to be careful, to not fall down. She let me help, and for a few days I heard her say to herself, "You have to wait for help. You can't do it by yourself."

Shit... have I just made it worse by telling her she can't?

Luckily, Queen Teen isn't a girl who sits and waits for long. She started moving around her room on her own again by holding on to the furniture, and once the second x-rays showed no fractures, I let her. I had to force myself to go back into the other room and let her walk alone. She had to prove to herself she could do it, that she was safe, that she was strong. I had to clamp down on my fear that she would fall again. I had to have faith in her ability to keep getting up.

Today when I took her to school, several of her classmates came out to the car to greet her. They wanted to help. So I brought the walker to her as she got out of the car and allowed two of her girlfriends to guide her into the class. Watching them closely, my heart pounded and I had to force myself not to hover. Queen Teen walked into the class and she was quickly surrounded by a large group of friends who said hi, patted her on the back, touched her hand, asked her if it still hurt, was she okay, could they help. Her aid then entered, looking a little frazzled that she hadn't been there to help Queen Teen inside. This was where QT feel, so the staff and teachers are very nervous about having her walk into the class on her own. I understand, but I have to let her do it. And with that many students surrounding her, supporting her, making her feel safe, I know they won't let her fall.

Queen Teen knows that too. 

New Video from Heavy Load

"They call me retard.... they call me mental.... they call me special.... THAT's NOT MY NAME"

Paul Richard of Heavy Load is a contributor to the punk anthology I edited and published, Punk Rock Saved My Ass. This song off his band's new album, Wham, shows perfectly how they feel about being called "special," or anything else that labels them. You've got to see this, and pass it on

What has changed since asking for help

Well, Ty Pennington hasn't shown up at my door yet, and I still haven't won the the lottery. We're still working our assess off to keep a roof over our head and food on the table, and my car is starting to show signs of wearing out (why do my door latches keep "clicking"?). Queen Teen struggles to make sense of an increasingly incomprehensible world while Rick and I desperately try to communicate with her. Things really haven't changed much around here...

... except me.

In December when I reached the limit of my mental endurance and yelled for help, my life felt beyond overwhelming. Here it is May, and life is whole lot easier to navigate. Of course, finishing grad school helped. What I realize is that my life is hectic without school, so how on earth did I manage to fit a graduate degree into the mix? I must have been insane.

Some of that insanity has lifted, and it isn't just graduation. What has changed is the idea that I'm some kind of super hero who can do everything all by herself with one eye closed and my feet tied together. I don't need anyone, I'm a rock. Grad school showed me how much I do need help, and that it's okay to need help. It's okay to publicly announce to my friends, family and a hundred strangers that I need HELP. And by doing that, I set myself free.

There wasn't an outpouring of tangible help, like casseroles showing up on my door step or friends asking to help with the yard work. Some people I was certain would call didn't, but many people I thought would never offer to help actually did. And more of our friends and family are learning sign language so that they too can talk to Queen Teen without having to go through me all the time. And like I said, it doesn't look like Extreme Makeover is coming to my house any time soon, so I guess Rick and I will have to fix the kitchen on our own. All of that is okay. We have wonderful support from our friends and neighbors and Queen Teen is loved by everyone. We really aren't alone, even when it feels like we are sometimes. I had to admit to human frailty and imperfection in order to see that.

By letting go of always having to be on top of everything, in charge of everything, being strong and fearless all the frickin time, I have set myself free. My life didn't change, I did. And that makes my life so much sweeter. 

The next step in asking for help

After I wrote my blog post about needing more help, the response from friends was wonderful. I was particularly surprised by the offers of help from people I didn't think would respond. Not that they're insensitive, it's just they aren't particularly "kid people" and have very busy lives. I was also surprised by how many people I just KNEW would write back with offers of help who didn't. Again, I don't think it's because they're insensitive (well, a few might be), I think it has more to do with people not knowing what they can possibly do to make any difference.

When you ask for help, no matter how much you wish it would just fall into your lap, you need to have a few specific ideas for people to know how to help.

Ummmm...  I'm still not sure how to answer that question.

I mean, we need help with everything: money, sanity, housekeeping, childcare, cooking, car maintenance, yard work, pet care... everything. But telling your friend who just offered help that they could clean your bathtub for you isn't a great way to foster a good support network.

So I've been working on a list of ideas, and instead of worrying about how people will react or how unrealistic some of these may be, I'm just gonna spell it out and see what happens.

Terena's Help List

• Housework. No you don't have to clean my bathroom, but if you know any good tips, tricks, cleaning products or cleaning staff (inexpensive) who could lend a hand, let me know. 
• Yard Work. Some strong hands to help my hubby and I catch up on the mountain of yard work around here would be great, especially since Spring is already trying to arrive.
• Sanity. Send me an email just to say hello. Post a hug to my Facebook page. Call and invite me out for coffee or to a movie. Let me know when a party or event is happening. Rick and I have gotten very isolated up here in Mendo (really people, there is life above Santa Rosa!), so any little thing you can do to help us feel less lonely would be wonderful (btw, Rick could use some help just as much as me). 
• Childcare. This is a big one. I know people get really nervous about offering to watch Queen Teen because she seems to need so much care, but she's actually pretty easy. Her favorite thing is to go for a walk in her chair and get a snack. If you just want to take her out for ice cream some time for an hour so I can grab a nap, that would be great. We have respite for the longer hours and overnights, and I'm looking into another agency to provide more support. Plus, Queen Teen gets just as lonely as Rick and I do. More people inviting her out on a Saturday for a short time would make her very happy.
• On that note, the more people who learn American Sign Language the better. As her hearing has degenerated, so has her communication. Very few people in our lives know ASL, so very few people can chat with her. She doesn't know very many signs yet, but in time she will, and the more she can use her language skills, the faster she'll learn. Plus, her world will expand to include so many more people and friends. What a gift that would be.
• Cooking. Made too much Beef Stew? Send it my way. I know my food allergies make it tricky, but if you have something Gluten Free you'd like to share, we'll gobble it up. 
• Money. Well... if you win the lottery, you can pay off my house. 

Looks like I have more specifics then I realized. While I'm on a roll, I'll just throw out a few more ideas (which may be less reality based, but what the hell?)

• Could someone tell that Ty guy that I need a new house? Mine is way too small and with Queen Teen's equipment getting bigger, we're about to reach a space crisis.
• Or if not a new house, how about letting one of those designers on the Home and Garden Channel know that we need help making better use of the space we have. (ooh, I just saw that the dream house sweepstakes has begun.)
• My car is about to die (a 1995 Honda Odyssey with 220,000 miles on it). I need a new one, preferably in red.
• Rick and I still need a honeymoon. We've been married 11 years. It's about time.
• A massage, once a week, for the next six months to get grad school out of my muscles.
• A huge family with lots of cousins who live in California (rather than Louisiana or Texas, neither place I wish to move to. Sorry guys).
• Queen Teen would like another trip to Disneyland... oh wait, we're already planning that one. 
• Queen Teen would also like to fly, just like the little girl in the Tinker Bell movie "The Great Fairy Rescue." She believes that if she could fly it would change everything (I think she's right). 

Today, my orchid has even more blooms! The ones I thought were too small and would fall off have thickened until they've opened into gorgeous blossoms. I wake up every morning and look at this:

It gives me hope.

New Year's Bloom

This morning I saw that my orchid had bloomed. It was a gift from last Christmas and after a couple of months of lovely blooms, they all fell off. I figured the plant was "done," but since it was still alive, I kept it, watering it and feeding it, but pretty much ignoring it. Then eight weeks ago I noticed that it had grown a new stem, and shortly after that, tiny buds formed. I just kept watering it and feeding it as usual, and over time the buds swelled. On New Years eve I saw that one of the buds had swollen so much there was a distinct line on it. Was it going to bloom?

New Years Day, my orchid bloomed, exposing bright white, pink splotched petals. There are five more buds still thinking about blooming and I have no idea if they will. One might be ready, the others are so small they may just drop off.

One perfect flower has bloomed, and I'm taking it as a sign that 2011 is the year my life also blooms. I don't usually believe in signs, instead I lean more toward cause-and-effect patterns (Karma, if you will). But my orchid blooming on New Year's is too beautiful. I've put in many years of hard work and struggle, perhaps it will all start to come to fruition at last. Hell, I'll settle for graduating on time and getting a job. At any rate, seeing that bloom pushed me to stop being so blue and have a little hope for a change.

The funny thing is that I'm not an orchid person. I have no idea how this plant bloomed again. I haven't fed it orchid food or doused it with warm, distilled water like I hear you're supposed to do. It has thrived on ordinary plant food and the same level of neglect all my house plants live under. So the fact it didn't just live, but bloomed again, feels like a gift.

Btw, the picture on the wall behind the plant is by Clay Vajgrt, an anniversary gift from Rick two years ago. It felt so perfectly "me," I had to have it. The artist paints other meditating heroes (you should see his Batman!).

Happy New Year, everyone. May your new year bloom as well.

Thankful for such a full, prosperous life

And there they go again, more weeks flying by. My days are filled with learning and work, my evenings with family and home. I am weary and frantic most of the time. Some days I drag myself out of bed, unable to open my eyes until I've had more than half a cup of coffee. By 7 PM I'm ready for bed again, my brain overwhelmed with everything it's managing at once.

For all of this, I am thankful.

It's funny that I'd feel this way. Maybe it's the holiday. Today, despite my fatigue, I realized that I am this tired because my life is filled with prosperity. Not the monetary kind (that sure would be nice someday), but the learning, growing, adventuring, challenging kind. When I step away from the stress and frustration of grad school, I am able to see how much both my child and my self are thriving. The reason I am so worn  out is because of the possibilities in my life. My world has gotten bigger with more opportunity.

All I have to do is figure out how to get through this time with my sanity somewhat intact.

Happy Thanksgiving to you all. May you know your own blessings, including the ones you might think are so hidden it's a wonder you can call them blessings at all. Those are where the real riches of life lie buried.

Going to Burning Man with my dad!

(image from matt.peterson.org  )

How many people get to say that?

My father is 62 years old and loves Burning Man. He's been going for several years, and to him, it is Mecca. He's wanted me to come with him for just as long, but there has always been too much on my plate: school, work, motherhood, lack of money, lack of time...  until now. I realized that when I get my Master's degree I might work for a school district, which means it will be impossible to get time off at the beginning of the school year. And, even if I work for an agency not dependent on a school calendar, it might be tricky spending some of my valuable vacation time on "the burn." Then my dad had a heart attack on New Year's Eve and I knew now was the time. I had to go to Burning Man with my father at least once or I would regret it for the rest of my life.

My husband Rick agreed. "You have to go. It doesn't matter how much a ticket costs, you're going."

Isn't my husband the greatest?

Since my ticket arrived in February, I've been planning and organizing and saving and preparing, physically and mentally. The "playa," which is the bed of an ancient extinct lake, is a challenging and even dangerous environment. The alkaline dust will suck the moisture right out of your skin. Dust storms and 30 mph winds are common. The temperature can exceed 115 F during the day and 45 at night. Dehydration and sun stroke are a serious threat.

But there are also artists from all over the world creating incredible art and giant sculptures of steel and glass. There are fascinating and talented people sharing their music and crafts.  There is a night sky so black you can see the crisp edges of every star. There is debauchery, yes, sex and raves. And there is beauty everywhere you turn. People come and create a brilliant city in an inhospitable place that only lasts two weeks. Then it's gone, like a far away echo of music in the wind.

My car is loaded and tomorrow I leave for northern Nevada to meet my father in Black Rock City. I hope to explore the art and meet interesting people, dance under the moon and take long siestas during the hot afternoons. Mostly though, I want to spend time with my father. His heart is strong now and he'll more than likely live another 20 years, but when he is gone, I want this memory to last forever.

So if you're wondering where I am for the next week, you'll find me at 7:45 and Hanoi in Black Rock City, Nevada.

The feel of hummingbirds zooming past my head

Queen Teen and Rick flew to Austin, Texas to visit family for 10 days and since I had my last internship meeting this past Saturday, I couldn't go. Okay, I admit it, there's a part of me that was happy not to go. I would love to see everyone and I miss my girl and hubby, but the peace and quiet has been amazing! After a few days, the constant ache in my jaw and shoulders dissipated, the knot in my stomach faded, and my thoughts stopped hopping around like a drunk frog on a hot plate. I could take a deep breath and feel calm for the first time in... how long? Years?

I went to the coast with my dear friend, Jody, and stayed at The Howard Creek Ranch B n B, an eclectic, beautiful property tucked between the ocean and a thick grove of redwoods. Built in 1879, the rooms are in the old farm house and the redwood coach house, both crammed with antiques and odd treasures. Hummingbirds battle for the garden, which overflows with flame-red, yellow, ice-blue, and white flowers, nasturtium, berry vines, and roses. Fat, friendly cats curl up in your lap when you sit to read in the sunshine. The inn is run by an older couple who serve you a hearty breakfast every morning. There's a narrow swinging bridge across a creek choked with blackberries, and at night you can hear the ocean crashing back and forth on the beach. It is my favorite place on the Mendocino Coast.

Jody and I spent three days there, lounging, going for hikes, talking, eating, and writing of course. I finished an essay that had been haunting me for months, and started working on my play again. By the time I got home after all that relaxing, I felt as if I'd been smoking dope on a hot beach. My head was fuzzy and the world seemed strangely distant. Walking into my house, the silence felt as loud as a rock concert. There was no Queen Teen shouting "Mom!" as I walked through the door, no husband cussing in the bedroom while he works on another computer, no dog bounding at me in greeting (she was at the kennel), no roar of a dishwasher or radio. Everything was still. I went to bed early with a book and breathed deeply the solitude.

Is it possible to have stress withdrawals? I'm so used to the pace of the last 2 years of grad school, of being mom and wife and keeping a roof over our head and food on the table and running a publishing company... feeling calm was bizarre. I soaked up relaxation like a starving person and now felt fat and lazy on it. But God I wanted more! Give me more calm and peaceful days, more silence. Let me get sick on it until I turn into a lump in the hammock with a book stuck on my nose. I've done constant stress, I'd like to try constant calm.

Saturday was my last internship meeting and during class our teacher explained the certification test and the master's exam. After listening for half an hour, the fog lumbering through my mind cleared and I felt the tension return to my jaw and shoulders. Ah, there it is... the churning knot in my gut. The fear lapping at my ankles. Then when she told us how much the fees for those exams are, I felt a rush of adrenaline flow through my body, chasing out the last bit of lazy still wrapped around my bones.

Back to normal once again.

But now that I know what calm feels like, I wonder if I can duplicate that feeling during my normal days? Can I learn to hold on to the feeling of sitting quietly in the garden at Howard Creek with a fat, black and white farm cat curled up in my lap and the hummingbirds dashing around, fighting for the best blossom just inches from my head. Even though I could feel them flying past me so close their momentum created a breeze on my cheek, I wasn't startled. I watched them and smiled. They are so like me, like all of us I suppose, zooming around and fighting for a crumb of pollen from the best blossom, not able to see the beauty of the flower they're fighting for.

Bourre the dog is back, worn out from playing with the dogs at the kennel for four days, and Queen Teen and Rick will be home on Tuesday.  I have several tasks to get done before then, and an awful lot of studying to do in preparation for my master's exam. But the bigger goal is to remember to stop and enjoy the flower I'm fighting for, rather than being a humming bird all the time.

I'll Stand By You

For Queen Teen, and to all our children.

Gratitude. Bah Humbug.

I've been feeling an awful lot of that "humbug" feeling lately. The holiday season is upon us again with all its demands on our time and dollars, heralded by the turkey trumpets of Thanksgiving. I'm too busy and worn out to do the holidays this year! And then I started reading how grateful everybody is, which made me roll my eyes. Oh joy of joys, here we go again. Once a year we all haul out our blessings list and start sharing. Whatever.

This anti-Thanksgiving grumpiness was getting out of control, so today I FORCED myself to think about what I'm grateful for. Come on, Terena, give it a try. You're reacting to the demands other people create around the holidays and how they should be celebrated. Really, Thanksgiving is a relaxing and friendly holiday; all we do is share food with our loved ones and think about what makes us thankful.

After taking a deep breath I proclaimed, "I can do that."

So here's my list of what I am grateful for:

I am grateful that my daughter still knows how to laugh despite all the annoying doctor appointments and therapies and the endless blood tests.

I am grateful she is growing and learning and becoming more beautiful, inside and out, every day.

I am grateful that we've managed to keep our house this long, even though we're both unemployed.

I am grateful for indoor plumbing and heat.

I am grateful for my friends who stand by me and Queen Teen no matter what, and who are not afraid of her disabilities.

I am grateful for Whole Foods Gluten Free Peanut Butter cookies.

I am grateful that my car passed 200,000 miles and still runs so well.

I am grateful that I'm in grad-school learning a trade that will not only provide me with a good paying job, but will be beneficial to others.

I am grateful to the internet for allowing me to share my thoughts and read the stories of others.

I am grateful for my husband who loves me and supports all of my wild ideas (a small press?!) and who chose to be Queen Teen's dad even though he knew she was disabled and would need a lot of extra help.

And I am grateful that my husband and I have the same, dark and twisted sense of humor. It keeps us going.

After I wrote this list, I realized that I have a great deal to be grateful for, from the mundane (I'm grateful for a washer and dryer in my own home) to the global (I am grateful I don't live in Afghanistan). Even though life is difficult right now, with so many challenges there are days I literally have to bury my head under a pillow to scream, I still have so much in my life that is good and joyful. Okay, I get it. This is why people write down their blessings and focus on being grateful. The hard, scary, weary times can quickly block out any feelings of happiness in a day if you let them. By remembering what is good in your life, the bad times lose some of their power.

It's what Thanksgiving is about. I'll try not to forget that.

Go ahead and write your own list, and if you want to share your gratitude's, I'd love to read them.

How can I Help?

I watched Obama's acceptance speech last night, stunned and weeping with joy. This is an incredible moment in history and I am so thankful I'm here to see it. Think about it. When I was a baby, Martin Luther King Jr was murdered. 40 years later, a black man has been elected to be our president.

His message, though, is important for us to grasp. We can't rest on our laurels and wait for him to "fix things." With two wars, a global economy on the brink of collapse, and anti-America sentiment vocally high, we all need to step up and ask, How can I help? Everyone must work for the change we desired when we voted for Obama. Even people who voted for McCain did so because they believed he was the best person to lead us out of this darkness. No one person, even one president, can get our country back on track and prosperous. It takes a village.

What can you do? Here's an example...

'Good Samaritan' saves crying woman's foreclosed home


Tracy Orr sat in the back of the room and prepared to watch her foreclosed home go up for auction this past Saturday. That's when a pesky stranger sat down beside her and struck up a conversation.

Tracy Orr faced losing her home to foreclosure when Marilyn Mock, a stranger, stepped in to buy it.

"Are you here to buy a house?" Marilyn Mock said.

Orr couldn't hold it in. The tears flowed. She pointed to the auction brochure at a home that didn't have a picture. "That's my house," she said.

Within moments, the four-bedroom, two-bath home in Pottsboro, Texas, went up for sale. People up front began casting their bids. The home that Orr purchased in September 2004 was slipping away.

She stood and moved toward the crowd. Behind her, Mock got into the action.

"She didn't know I was doing it," Mock says. "I just kept asking her if [her home] was worth it, and she just kept crying. She probably thought I was crazy, 'Why does this woman keep asking me that?' "

Mock says she bought the home for about $30,000. That's when Mock did what most bidders at a foreclosure auction never do. Watch why a woman would buy back a stranger's home »

"She said, 'I did this for you. I'm doing this for you,' " Orr says. "When it was all done, I was just in shock."

"I thought maybe her and her husband do these types of things to buy them and turn them. She said, 'No, you just look like you needed a friend.' "

"All this happened within like 5 minutes. She never even asked me my name. She didn't ask me my financial situation. She had no idea what [the house] looked like. She just did it out of the graciousness of her heart, just a 'Good Samaritan,' " Orr says. "It's amazing."

Not many of us have the cash to buy someones home back, but there are things we can do every day to help our neighbors, even something as simple as dragging the garbage cans out to the curb for the little old lady with arthritis who lives across the street. Our own food cupboards hold less than last year, but if we each give just one thing to the food bank their shelves won't be empty. Actions small and large are what it will take to create the change Obama talked about.

Queen Teen is currently going through her clothes and toys to find the things she doesn't play with or wear anymore so that "another child can have something new." This is a person who doesn't have a clear understanding of who the president even is. All she knows is that she wants to help someone.

Regardless of who you voted for, lets keep the flame alive and help Obama bring about the change we all hunger for, one tiny step at a time.