Addict · Bloggess · Farmer · Life · Mother · Recovery

Sunday Morning with Coffee and Chickens

To look on my couches with sheer gratitude of the life that I have chosen, the steps that I took and continue to take on this journey is an absolute miracle for this woman.
My oldest two grandsons are sleeping, knocked out from an evening spent with grandma. I took them to a pool party where I fellowshipped, saw friends, heard the message; they swam, ate junk food and had fun. We came home to movies, popcorn, and apple juice; what a blessing.  I couldn’t have done anything any different, my path was chosen long before I walked it.  I know that without a doubt when I look at them. I am no longer that hopeless human being that chose drugs before everything, including her children; not knowing there was any other way to live.
Hi, I’m Christine and I’m an Addict! That, to me, is one of the most powerful personal statements I can make. I know now. I know I am powerless over drugs and my life had become unmanageable. That allows me such freedom. Freedom to choose life, love, laughter and live it! Boy that is what I am going to do! I will not waste another minute wondering what if? Just keep swimming Christine, it’s a journey and the destination is unknown. For that I am grateful, as I am everyday for finding a new way to live.
The Chicken Lady

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Team Irene- the College Daughter

My Irene has lost so much weight. She’s healthy but I wonder if she’s eating? I have always said to others she eats about 5 different things and 3 of them are a variety of potatoes- chips, fries and baked; oh and mashed too. That is Autism. That is her Autism because Autism is different for everyone and it changes daily. She is doing amazing at UC Sant Cruz and I keep having to tell myself that and others when they ask because I don’t know anything different and I won’t know until it hits the fan- if it hits the fan. Shit that is. Until then I just practice acceptance and faith and know that I’m utterly powerless.

I know Irene is walking everywhere on campus because Irene can’t drive or even ride a bike, mostly out of fear and I’m ok with that. This is probably why she has slimmed down so much I tell myself. She has learned the bus system with the help of her IHS worker who is bringing on another worker so Irene gets more hours a week. She must need them if they are doing this – I have to trust them.

Her hygiene I will not talk about, but she has hair growing everywhere including under her arms and I know that is a thing now with girls so I encouraged her not to worry and to do what ever she wants- I will not define her. Many of her clothes just went straight to the trash and shopping had to be done. She was home for Thanksgiving and we are on the drive back now with her dad at the wheel so I have some time to reflect and jot down a few lines.

Irene is Autistic plus as many of you know, depressive, anxiety and ADHD as well. She is my gift. The gift born in the front seat of my car in my addiction. The gift I tried so hard to keep. The gift I walked away from and thank my God for bringing me back to when I got clean. It’s never too late.

Irene won’t say if she’s hungry, she’ll wait until she can find some chips or bread; she doesn’t want to bother anyone. I saw she ordered some gourmet cookies delivered to her room- I know that was probably very exciting for her. Her bank account is attached to mine so I always know what she’s buying. She has only made it into the Mc Donald’s in Santa Cruz once her whole time at school; this was her staple at home and still her treat.

I’m taking her back with snacks and enough hygiene to last her until summer. If I make sure she has everything she needs then she hopefully won’t run out. What Irene see’s as necessary to buy and what is not are different than the usual- she needs every airport neck pillow she sees- tampons not so important. I’m hoping these extra hours with her worker are utilized to the fullest and I have a list of items to discuss with them. I haven’t even seen her room yet but if it looks like it did a few weeks ago I’ll send her and her dad Mark out to Mc Donald’s so I can get it together while they’re gone. She panics when things are moved or when people are in her space. She stays secluded but gets out to do the things she wants when she wants- the things that interest her.

Irene makes it to her classes though. I hope she is turning in assignments and studying for finals- she is so smart. I had to map things out -everything in high school daily including homework and due dates- she’s on her own now. Things her IHS worker is supposed to be assisting her with- organization and dates. She lives in her own world doing what her mind wants to. I can’t explain Irene any better than that other than a beautiful brilliant gift and my daughter.

I have heard C’s get degrees and although she has always been an A+ honors student that came at a cost. Frustration, tears, meltdowns and stress along with her picking at her skin and pulling her hair out. Her bangs are growing back out and I don’t see any signs of hair pulling- although she is always wearing a hat. A mother knows her child. She is thriving and I have to keep supporting her. I’ve picked her classes – yes again, hopefully for the last time. She was upset with me. Irene didn’t understand classes have to be picked and no longer will she just get a schedule. I finally got the IHS worker to get her to a counselor and follow up with that to map out her years for success. Irene was 1 of 200 accepted into UC Santa Cruz’s Computer Science degree program in 2019! If you put it in front of her she will do it. She can do anything.

The Chicken Lady

Addict · Addiction · Bloggess · death · Family · hopeless · Life · Life story · love · Recovery · Uncategorized

Death….

I come from a place of darkness, trapped in my insanity for so long. I smiled at you with a look of death hidden beneath my eyes; a death that was felt deep into my soul. The fire was gone. Had it ever been lit? Those choices that I made at a very young age would lead me down a road I never knew existed- it was called my life; the life that I chose. Gratefully I came to the end of the road one day and someone showed me a new way to live.

It has been seven days and a wake up since I got the call. It was my late night to work, I run a youth group and it was barely 6:00 pm on a Thursday, I still had an hour to go until I could leave. An hour to smile, to keep the youth I work with engaged, on task creating yearly action plans and mapping out goals; I even intrigued them enough to take on writing a small grant themselves with my tutelage. All the while knowing there was a dead body in a room that had been sitting most of the day.

I have witnessed more than my fair share of death. Some would even say I may have been the cause or catalyst to a few, but I know that was addiction and their choices. Sure I gave them the first one, maybe even at times the last one- at least one that I know of. I didn’t know then what I know now. I played a part in so many lives that I ran through for so many years and yes, I still play a part. The reasons why we continue to do the work, so we can continue to identify the issues. I always say, as long as I am not doing an issue I will always be OK. That part is true; but sometimes I still do not want to feel. So much lately I have not wanted to feel- yet I am so happy I get to.

As soon as the last parent drove away with their child that Thursday night I was in my car. I knew the paramedics had come and gone, there was still emergency services there- the Firemen. Everyone was standing in the drive as I flew in and parked the car at the neighbors, there were so many cars everywhere. I knew the neighborhood would be glued to the windows watching in the darkness curious. My friend, my best friend; it was her house. She had called me. We had just spent the most beautiful weekend away at the ocean and had only been home a few days and this. Reality was back of what life is like.thumbnail

Julie was walking around arranging things, I joked on how clean the house was. I knew this mattered at this moment. The moment so many people were walking in and out, looking through the house, asking so many questions. I am sure all the questions had been asked a million times by the time I arrived. It was almost time for a million more. The coroner had not even arrived yet. The call had been made by 3:00 pm, it was now at least 8:00 pm and the coroner had not even arrived yet. He had probably been dead since at least 10:00 am. The facts are not out yet, the autopsy results are not in, and the time of death had not been called. I knew the how he died. So did Julie, she was just not willing to say and it was not my place to assist at that moment.

My assistance was just to be there. To hold the woman who at one time disliked me. To be there for her, it was her son who was in my friend’s house; he had only been there 10 days. I had only spoke to him a few times, through the walls of the rooms as I made my way through the house. Jacob had cleaned the house so immaculate. Jacob. His name was Jacob. I will not tell his story, although I know it. I will not tell Loretta’s story, although I know it. I will tell mine.

The coroner finally showed, it was our turn. Our house was the third on the list for pick-ups that night and by the time they left there were even more bodies to gather. This was our turn, it was Jacob’s turn. The questions started all over again. Now his family were giving the history, the present was obvious. More time was given with the body, the goodbyes before the morgue. That time seemed to drag on forever. Julie made jokes with me in the living room. I knew this was her way of dealing with the insanity of the moment in her home. All I could do was listen, a few times I said shhhh Julie, not so loud.

Finally the moment came, the moment I had missed with all the death that I left in my wake. The moment they struggled to bring his body out of the room to the stretcher. Jacob was already wrapped in the plastic zip-up bag, it was white. I imagine his toe tag was on under there as well for identification. There were a lot of bodies that night for a Thursday we were informed. He was wrapped in a white sheet around the plastic bag, for the purpose of lifting and grip. That was so apparent- Jacob was 31. Then came the fitted burgundy cloth that covered the body over so the neighbors glued to their windows with the lights off while they watched could not see. The coordinating commands. Turn, lower, on three, lift. One side first to set the wheels and ensure he was steady before she lifted the other side- go. Set the wheels. Roll out, step one, step two, set. I closed the screen door behind them. Loretta asked me to close up the bedroom, she couldn’t go back in- I did. I gathered her things and put them by the door. She was tired. Her tears I had wiped, I had held her, comforted her. What else could I have done?

Today I have to get to school. I teach. I teach a variety of things to help our youth make better choices and I have to get to class so I must go. This week has been rough, these past seven days have been rough. The flood of memories from death have not stopped. I am so grateful I have chosen to live.

The Chicken Lady thumbnail (1)

Addict · Addiction · adoption · Bloggess · Childhood · Family · Life · Life story · love · Mother · Recovery · Uncategorized

Nothing But LOVE….

When I was young, so long ago, I was hardened by love, the misconception of what it was, and what it looked like. I was hurt many times by those who claimed to love me and even those who I thought were supposed to love me the most at a very young age- family. I had lost the ability to trust anyone.

Of course the skills that I had learned, the coping skills, surviving skills, and so on would harden me. I numbed myself and shut down my heart and my spirit, putting in and losing the ability to stop for anything or anyone, not even my children. I didn’t know that is what was happening at the time; I still at that point thought I was having fun. I’m getting ahead of myself….

At the age of 20, I had stopped for a moment and come up for air, I would do that on occasion. It might look like I had my shit together, maybe a job, a smile. It was all an illusion, a mask I wore well, just one of them, for a very long time. I’d had my first child, almost making it to the altar, and even learned another lesson before I even made it there with his father. My ability to show love was gone and I know that now. I can’t even imagine what it looked like back then. I would be unable to show love for another 20 plus years, true love. That was my part.

The sweetest man entered my life back then, he loved me. He loved my son and me. He wanted nothing but to love us, together. I could not even fathom that, certainly didn’t trust that, and honestly didn’t even understand it. I was pregnant with his child and he knew. What would that look like? It was time to run and running is what I was good at.

I created another lie, I was good at lying, that’s what we do. This lie would last me 20 years. I gave birth to his son, having told him long before that I had lost his child. Using that loss as just one of the reasons to never see him again. The hole in my spirit was just a little larger and would continue to grow due to my own choices.

Today is that young mans birthday, October 30, his name is Alex, and he found me on Facebook several years ago. He had some questions, that is all he wanted from me, answers of which I gave him. It’s absolutely amazing how my HP works, I had found his father just a few months earlier. Being open to the process and willing, I was able to let that secret go that I had held onto for over 20yrs. I am a Bio-Mom, that is all.

Albert I love you! After many years your only question to me when I told you I had given birth to your son was, “are you ok” and “do you need a hug?” Boy did I. I will always love you for that! Today I know what love is honey and I have nothing but love for you!

That young man wanted nothing but answers, then he left our lives going back to his own, and I am ever so grateful to have been alive to give him those answers.

The Chicken Lady67187599_10156729123094926_8665854504098332672_n

Addict · Addiction · Bloggess · dating · dating life · Life · Life story · love · Recovery · single · Uncategorized

The Ridiculous Life of Dating: Swiping Left or Right….

I have the cutest little nook in the back with the chickens now. There is the small mosaic green coffee table and the two red farmhouse chairs that I love to relax on that have traveled with me to three different homes, however will stay at this one when I leave as a gift as I no longer require their use- yes I am already planning my next move. No one sits on the other red chair anymore, it’s just me with my feet perched up while the chickens mill around under me. Well sometimes the roommate sits there too, but our lives are so full it is rarely that we sit together anywhere. I have a spot I can write at that looks out the window to the chickens; it’s a bit un-comfy since the chair I sit at is really just a stool. I prefer just to write in bed with my laptop up on a rather large pillow with the window open just listening to the chickens while Hermes that fat cat stares their way, I don’t need much.

This brings me to companionship. Do I need it, do I really need it? Yes- I do. My companions for now are those chickens, my friends, the cat and the Fellowship that I love so much. I lost my dog Snoopy a while ago but don’t want to get into that right now, for now we are just going to talk about dating. The ominous life of dating at 50. It is very funny I find so hold on and grab some coffee.

I am not sure if I am ready for dating yet? It seems to be very complicated or very easy- whichever way you look at it. Do I swipe left or right? Actually, apparently, I don’t even need to swipe at all. It just comes my way- the offers. Abundant is the word I will use. The propositions have come from everywhere; Florida, Costa Rica- oh Florida will come here by the way and I should really give it a try, Costa Rica just wants to offer me time in paradise where he lives for a week or two. Kentucky wants to fly here to get to know me better; although we actually have met in person I am not ready to know him any better over dinner just yet-yet.

Dinner, I have gone to dinner with a friend. An old friend who was willing to just let it be a dinner with friends- even though years ago that was not his intention. He appreciated the shutdown I gave him when I said I was having coffee with someone back then, he didn’t understand it- he thought it was just coffee. It wasn’t just coffee, but it has become that. He let me know he valued that in a woman and always remembered that about me. So when he appeared there in Southern California with dinner I became willing. Willing for something new and that is to say yes more often. Yes!

Well yes- maybe. It is still mainly no. No to every Tom, Dick and Harry in my inbox. No to the married man we all know. That was a surprise! You never know who is thinking what about you? Did he really think I would say yes to just a weekend getaway no one would know about? I guess he did, that is how much he knew me. I am not her. She, many years ago, would have went. She would have chosen to escape this life and those feelings months ago when the offer was made- even if it was just for a moment. I am not her! I thought we were friends?  I wonder what your friend would have thought about that?

So back to the swiping. I have a dating coach. She has been in retirement for several years, but graciously made her presence again. She suggested Bumble, Tinder, Plenty of Fish and Cream Cheese and Bagels, or was it Coffee and Bagels? I said yes to a month; Biker Planet, sure why not- just one month there too. Facebook even came out with a dating app and it was as if they knew I would be dating again. That was a funny. I am very funny in my own little head to some- even if that some is only me. I make me laugh and smile better than anyone, it just took me a minute to get back there. I am there again and have been for some time.

Let’s chat about Coffee and Bagels, I am pretty sure I was the cream cheese. I think they are a bit elitist? Most from the bay area of the state of California where I reside. If I say yes, we can hang out and even hit the Apple party in November or was it Google? This wonderful app even gave me pointers on how and when to respond. Not too fast now, wait a day or two and the reasons why behind the push notifications. Let’s not forget when to make the first move and to check in and why. Very handsome men in all the apps I have seen, in the past few months I have seen plenty. Biker Planet- Wow. Now I am not too superficial whatsoever, but really. First of all let’s live in reality, I attempt to on a daily basis. All I will say about that app is it was a waste of my time that I will never be able to regain.

Facebook dating has been the most amusing. It was as if it happened overnight and the hounds were released. I can take a pretty picture, but do you see me? Do you know what I am like? No one really knows deep down what I am like- I myself am still learning all the deepest secrets my heart and mind have locked away. The years of torture I endured at my own hands will be the reasons I move out of love. I shed a tear just then while clacking that out; it is wonderful to feel.

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So with the Facebook dating eventually came the people we may know in common, that was only a matter of time I am sure- those Fellowship people. I deleted Facebook dating too within the week. I don’t need Facebook to help me figure out who to date next. I have my friends all over the place making suggestions and offers- people they may know. They deserve the love I have and the very best; how sweet they think that is me. Some of those offers are not bad either, I am just not ready yet.

The yet. I will be ready one day; just not yet. I don’t know when? Waiting for me is all I will be doing for a while and for someone who I find intriguing to ask me out this time. What does my life look like right now?  Work- work on many levels. The internal work, the work- work and the financial work to get me where I want to be one day. As I clack this out I have a grant proposal I am writing simultaneously for my organization on another doc- I am the lead writer now. A little too late and that is OK as well. Also a grant I am researching for a private organization because I have begun freelance writing. I am capable of many things.

The most important thing I have written lately is my resume and my Statement of Qualifications; not my dating profile- although dangit that looks pretty good and I am not giving up there. I have interviewed, have practiced my interview and am even interviewing again this week. I am hopeful. I am hopeful on many levels. I will just keep going and growing. I have made it to fifty, my children are all off on their own and the young child is soaring at this very moment in college with her own independence; an independence I am learning to embrace myself. The dreams I am making happen and will never stop conjuring up. I am loving the new horizons; no matter what. So as I intended to continue on with this dating adventure and quite possibly discuss San Antonio I will have to save that for next time. Maybe when I return? Now the house has just filled with love as so many faces have mingled in for a meal while the music plays in the background. I am present today- so I must go.

The Chicken Lady Coffemeetsbagel_logo18

Addict · Bloggess · Childhood · Life · Life story · Mother · schools · students · Uncategorized

Schools in America…

The coffee is brewing as I clack on these keys and I can hear a few sounds stirring from the chicken coop. I love the fact that the chicken run is right outside my bedroom window and I have no screen, it also allows for Hermes my big fat cat to jump in through the middle of the night at his leisure and snuggle with me. Hermes the cat has gone from a farm cat, to a city cat and now an alley cat and he still loves me. I am not sure if he loves all the sounds that come with the fast paced area we now live in, however he has adjusted with time. He knows to stay away from the dogs that we share a home with- he is so smart, I wish the chickens learned that too. I had to clip some wings to ensure the ladies did not fly over the fence again- I have eight hens- four young girls and four just a month or two older. No one has lost their life yet and no one is laying either, however that will change with time as well. The street is just a few houses away, it is a rather busy street and in the wee hours of the morning when I rise I can hear just a few cars swoosh by. The sound I love the most is the train. I prefer the silence mostly- birds, chickens and the coffee brewing. But if I had to hear different, the sounds of the train take me back to a time when all I could do was dream of what life was like. Life is good now. Life will always be good as long as I’m floating on this earth. I digress as usual.

Yesterday I had the pleasure of doing what I love to do most for my organization- I went to school. As part of my “Other Duties as Required” I get to deliver lifesaving programs to students in California schools in hopes that students gain some valuable information to make better choices for their futures. The information delivered varies on the grant-funding that I also have the privilege of honing my skills on, yes one of those other duties still. I love what I do.

As I was wrapping up yesterday’s program and thanking the students for their participation while asking the proverbial questions attempting to invoke some last minute thoughts before my departure as I gathered up my end of presentation evaluations- the overhead speakers came on- lockdown. Teachers we are on lockdown and please implement lockdown procedures. I looked around as the entire room shifted.

The teacher who I had been with, who was just laughing with me for all the technical issues we had for the day involving the incompatibilities with our equipment (she was a Mac user and I am not), rushed to the door and grabbed a cover which she then slipped over the window while she hit the lights. In moments she had directed us all into an adjoining room. I had been in the production room for the day, cameras and a make shift studio where the students practiced their media skills creating the school weekly news. The adjoining room was what seemed like the editing room, computers and cabinets everywhere with extra lighting stands lined against the back wall.

Doors were shut and all cabinets were immediately opened. The cabinets were tall free standing against the whole wall for optimal storage of all the equipment we were surrounded with. We were told to get on the floor and be quiet- the lights were off remember and in the back room there were no windows. It was dark. Just then the intercom went off again- lockdown, this is not a drill, and then there was nothing but silence.

As the teacher looked at me from across the dark room I could see all the high school kids I had just been joking with before while I tried to keep them involved with the presentation on their phones. All you could see was the dim lights that came from the windows of the outside room that penetrated the glass that separated the rooms and the lights from phones. I just sat there.

I will not exaggerate whatsoever on the time that passed- well over ten minutes. Ten minutes without another sound. The thoughts that race through your head. Seriously! This is it? This is how I go? What’s happening outside? What’s going on? Where are my kids? What will I do? All of that happened in moments. I chose not to send a text to the family group chat, I chose not to panic anyone. I did get one of those random texts from a long ago high school friend myself at that time. So I did respond to him about the current situation of events as he was sending short videos of his ride. I let him know they would have to be watched later- I was busy. Would later come?

At roughly eight minutes into our sequestered event there was a loud bang that echoed through the wall I was against. On the other side of that wall was the longest hall that I had walked down to gain entrance into the class that I was in. Where did the sound come from? Was it in the room with us? I couldn’t tell, I really couldn’t. The teacher whispered asking if one of us made that sound and the student nearest to me apologized. He had inadvertently leaned against something that fell from the wall and that was the bang. I looked at him through the darkness and laughed as I told him how much he scared me. We were immediately hushed.

Minutes later the intercom came on again- lockdown over. Other words were said but I really had no clue what they were. I got up, listened to the teacher apologize for keeping me so long after the day had ended and I left. Walking out the classroom door was eerie. That long hall was empty. The can from the janitor who cleans up at the end of the day with all the brooms and bags was just sitting lonely in the middle of nothing. As I kept walking and hit the corridor doors I entered the main enclosed campus area that led to the outside area. The students were everywhere and the chatter was endless.IMG_5654

I still don’t know what happened, I am not a news watcher. Was it even news worthy? The police were outside, but they were outside when I entered for the day. It is commonplace for police to be at schools today unfortunately – I know because I am constantly in school. So funny because when I was a student myself I was never in school. It just wasn’t my thing.

Well as I made my way to the parking lot I passed groups of students sharing how they were scared. How they were texting their parents how much they loved them. No one knew what was happening outside as we were locked down inside. Where had all the football players and outside students been rushed to? I heard students talking about how they were shut indoors, in the office and in classrooms. I kept walking to the lot. Parents were already there. Many I am sure had been there to pick up kids and just got swept up in the moments.

The moments no one thinks about when you wake in the morning, when you get ready for the day. When you try to figure out what outfit you will wear or what you will do in the evening when you get home. When you make your plans for the dreams you want in life that swirl around in your head.

Sitting in my car in that lot I finally texted my family. It was frightening. I let them know where I was and what happened and of course that I was OK. I turned the key on the ignition and I left. I shed a few tears on the way in amazement. This is what school is like today. This is what life is like today in schools all across America.

My hats off to that teacher, to the administration and to all schools across the US of A. They had knew and it was obvious they had practiced and been prepared for such an event. Do we pay them enough for this? Is this part of the job description today of teacher’s across America? Does this fall under “Other Duties as Required?” It does today.

The Chicken LadyIMG_5655

Addict · Addiction · Bloggess · Family · Life · Life story · love · Recovery

God’s Will….

It is a beautiful cloudy morning, the chickens have been fed, the kid- the 18 year old gorgeous Autistic gift of mine- is sleeping in the bed we are sharing until this week when I return her off to college for the year comes and the cat has been loved on. I drank the coffee and spoke to the voluptuous spirit that I live with. Life is beyond good.

I have been processing so much lately- thank God I do that with others. I should have processed that text message first with others, I didn’t.  If I had it never would have been sent. The why I sent it no longer matters, the day I sent it- September 11th did. I just wanted to not go another moment without someone knowing that I loved them with everything I had and I wanted to wish them the best in life. Not to leave a word unsaid- just in case. I want to be able to go on and not turn back and I will. I wanted nothing in return, just to be able to be in their presence with no ill will- no weird stuff in the air. See we run in these circles and chances are high we will constantly see each other. That was the “why” just so you know. Nothing more.

It wasn’t time yet, it was time for me though and that my friends is not God’s will -that was Christine’s will. More than likely why it didn’t turn out the way I had hoped and had expected? Ah- expectations. The only one I had was to hold his hand one last time and look into his eyes to say I loved you and good-bye. I didn’t even try. I do still love you and always will. I have no resentments, I have nothing left for you; nothing but love for what once was and some of the most beautiful memories of my life.

I knew I should have walked away when I got there. That cold stare behind the glasses- I knew.  I am so thankful I stayed though. As much as it hurt, it was the clarity I needed one last time. Kind of like a drug I guess? Tough to let go but you know when you’re done you’re done.

I get to go on and learn from what I did wrong, there was so much. I will do better next time. Not with him. There will be someone one day. I will bear my soul again, share that part of me I never want to share with anyone. If you don’t love, it’s because that voice doesn’t let you love. If you don’t enjoy your life, it’s because that voice doesn’t let you enjoy it – Don Miguel Ruiz. I will love. I will enjoy my life. I am so full of love and life!

I get to do some healing work, some inner work. I get to not dwell in the past- I get to live for tomorrow. I get to close that chapter of the book I no longer wish to read. I get to not pick it up again, not even to look at. I get to surrender it all and let it go.

I return to God’s will for my life though in amazement of the past three years and know none of that was God’s will for me. That was all Christine’s will, every bit of it! What a lesson learned. The moments I scoured through his Facebook page, watched his timeline, read what he wrote, grabbed that ticket to Sturgis and even when I asked him to coffee. That was all me. None of it happened by chance, none of it happened with God, it happened because I wanted it to. Maybe I forced it to? So in the end it should come as no surprise that it didn’t work. If it was meant to it still would be- no matter what- regardless of the “whats.”

If you think it is so ridiculous to be talking about God so much, for me, it took a bit- almost 11 years. I have never had such faith as I do right now. Leaping and landing wherever it takes me knowing I made the right choice. Nothing has ever felt so true, to bend like the reed and not break. To journey on and leave when I only wanted to stay. Walking away from a place where you are not valued nor heard will be the easiest hard thing you ever do! I know this because it is true for me.

Funny thing is it took some serious pain to find my God. To give up and hit my knees to take the pain away- to just let me sleep and cry no more. Just for today, just for tonight. The lady in my life who has the most beautiful spirit ever always says, have you prayed for them? Well through this I have. I finally became willing to pray for them all. Give them everything in life and more! Let them not waste another moment in anger and soften their hearts, OK soften his. I am so blessed! No matter what I am so blessed. That is the best gift and lesson of all. My spirit and my love are the gifts and I will never let anyone take them for granted.

The Chicken Lady

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Addict · Addiction · Bloggess · dogs · Family · Farmer · Life · Life story · love · Recovery

He Rescued Me….

It took me many years to understand what love is. Countless hours and many tears. Most of those tears were self inflicted with the choices I chose to endure for the interpretation of what I thought love was for so long. What I thought I deserved. What I thought I was worth. I was very sick in the disease of my addiction for many years to know any other way.

Gratefully that changed when I found a new way to live through the 12 step program that I actively participate in. I say actively because for me it takes a daily application of spiritual principles followed up with some traditions to live the way I do, lest I fall into the pit of despair – which is my old ways of thinking. In turn that brings up my old ways of speaking and reacting too, but I digress.

I haven’t really written anything in some time. If I write it is usually about life. My life. I tend not write about the same thing in a million different ways thinking to myself that it is something new. It’s not. Especially if the same people tend to read your material once written. It can turn out to be the same regurgitated rhetoric in some new shape or form, just another day. Writing in some ways is about healing. I hope to continue to write and I always hope to continue to heal.

Today was a hard day. I had to make a decision to put my first love in this new way of life down. My dog Snoopy. Sure I love the kids and yes I love myself, but the truth of the matter is I didn’t even know what love was until the age of 42. Hence the reason for the tattoo on my left shoulder as a subtle reminder.  Snoopy was a good dog. He was a rescue dog. He was our family dog and ultimately my dog.

Snoopy was a Beagle, my big fat Beagle. I spent countless hours and days scouring kennels all over Northern California from my cubicle for what would eventually be him. His given name was Tonka. We all showed up together and spent some time with him before making the decision to bring him home that day. I never knew how old he really was, maybe three or four? Irene quickly changed his name to Snoopy and he never answered to Tonka again.

The kennel gave me his folder and a few stories. Snoopy was a returnee to the them. Even after being micro-chipped. Apparently he escaped from his new owners and was found roaming the streets of Auburn before being taken to the kennel again. The new owners refused to pick him up and they said never answered their phone. How sad for Snoopy.

Snoopy never left me. He never ran from me. He loved me and he loved my home. I loved my home. It was safe I suppose for him? He had an entire back forty to markup daily. There was always something new, especially when I decided to bring home chickens.

They say, as a joke, get a plant. If you can keep the plant alive you may be ready for something else. Well if you want to know about unconditional love, get a dog. Get a rescue dog. Furthermore, get a Beagle. They are absolute emotionless dogs. His face always looked so somber. He was not a jumper and never really a barker unless food was involved. Actually that was a habit he picked up near the end. He was not too old to pick up new tricks.

Snoopy rescued me. He gave me something to care for. Someone to love. I loved him and he loved me right back with no expectations! I stayed in there until far after the end. It was so quick. They didn’t say it would be that quick. They did say it would be painless. He was in so much pain. I don’t think I will get another dog. I think I am done for a while. With so much I am done.

Yesterday I made a decision to let all my worldly possessions go. I didn’t mean this one too! I may let it all go, but I will keep this.

The Chicken Lady

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Addict · Addiction · Bloggess · Life · Life story · Recovery

The Gifts from a Coffee Date….

Well it has been just over thirty days since my relationship with a man I sincerely thought I would have spent the rest of my life with came to an abrupt halt. I don’t regret a moment, not one. I am truly saddened by the end result which garnered more than a few tears. However I am finally returning to the tears of joy that seemed to be, at the time, only tears of sorrow. Those tears are as if- I am guessing- what death would be like? My best friend is gone. Vanished in a moment is the person I shared everything with. The hopes and dreams for a future with him are wiped away. In truth I had stopped sharing everything some time earlier. I no longer felt the safety he had once provided in me. The safety of my soul and heart. The voice I once loved so much had turned to hurt with a tone I could not fathom to take any further.

I am not sure how a person I loved so much forgot how to speak to me with kindness? Stopped caring completely how he treated me at all. All I know is how it made me feel day in and day out. How I could no longer take “it” the “it” I speak of varies I suppose from person to person, for me I have had too much of it in my lifetime to bear anymore. The constant walking on eggshells. Is this going to be a good day?  Those feelings of dread and despair of what my phone would say at any given moment. In actuality is was only a horrible eight days out of 1,095- but who’s counting? Those eight days washed away so much, the last four I will choose to remember- for now.

I finally chose to delete every memory from my phone and with a click of a button I deleted that person from my social life as well, my social media life that is. It is funny because prior to that relationship the social media life was the only life I lived. He changed that. I guess I changed it by asking him out to coffee that day?

I gained so much from him. I gained the freedom to go out and live life, not just from a computer screen. To stop watching it go by! To take chances! I took a chance with him and I will never regret it. He wasn’t the first man I asked to coffee- he was the second. The first was many years earlier and a state or two away?  I wasn’t ready for coffee then yet anyway, possibly the reason it never happened.

Well this did happen. All of it happened. The chapter is closed, the page is turned and the life goes on- my life. My next coffee date happened sooner than I had expected – just days later and to my surprise happened on my birthday. A young lady named Jayden asked me out to join her parents and her for coffee and I said yes. She had no clue it was my birthday. No one did. I knew though and my God knew and what a gift it turned out to be.

Jayden is my biological daughter. She is my gift and the best gift ever. I have been given many gifts but this one took me by utter surprise. How could a women completely block an entire year of her life out let alone delivering a baby? Rather easily actually. The desperation and degradation I had allowed in my life at the time and the violence as well made it easy to block entire months and years out.

The life I was living was no life at all. I was in hell, a self-imposed hell. The insanity, the way I spoke to the man I was spending my life with and the way he spoke to me I choose to not to write about now and definitely not repeat- ever. Would you believe I left that man and dug deeper into insanity with another? I did. Have you ever wrapped your hands around the hands of the person you loved with everything in your soul holding a gun to your head saying pull the trigger? I would marry that one!

It was my life I was constantly trying to take out. I no longer wanted to live it and since I couldn’t kill myself with drugs and I had tried, I am sure he could do the trick. I remember well the plans- suicide by cop. It would be my overdose that saved me from that twenty-two hour standoff, my overdose and God.

The lines we draw and the boundaries we enforce only work if we follow them. Ultimately it was those lines that I allowed this past relationship to cross that I had to choose eventually not to blur again and to leave for good. I know what it is like to love someone so much and to leave. My spirit was hurting. I had allowed it and I refuse to allow it again. When they say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree- well that all made sense in the end.

Watching someone you love become so filled with furry and anger, by every move that you make. Unwilling to look into your eyes and see the woman he loves is in fear is not how I choose to live anymore. I have lived that life before. The gift from that experience is knowledge. I no longer want to live like that. I am grateful for all the experiences that the three years with him gave me, mostly the awareness of I have so much more life I want to live.

The Chicken Lady

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Addict · Autism · Bloggess · Childhood · Family · Life · Life story · Mother · Recovery

The Box Folder….

It has been some time since I have written with the presence of chickens in my life; it has been some time since I have really written. It is not for the words failing to be there, however a lack of time. Life has a way of catching up and taking hold. Maybe it is the change of the season, maybe it is the change of moving in with him, maybe it is the kids growing up, and maybe it is me growing up too. Time and change is the one thing that is consistent no matter what happens in our lives though. So with the addition of chickens once again into my life, our lives now, I find myself slowing and taking a look around at what is important- the balance.

This past holiday week has been one of a serious change; I did not cook for my family. I went to Michael’s parents and took my youngest daughter Irene who is seventeen in tow with us. My older children survived and did let me know it will not be tolerated again next year. They had to endure a side of the family they have not before, my daughter in-laws. No one was on time, the food was two hours late, there were no left-overs to be delved out into the various store-bought to go containers for everyone to take home never returning and the deserts were so different. Mom where were you? At least they knew where I was. I am not lost in my addiction and for that we are thankful. I digress.

The Thanksgiving feast with his parents was a bit different too. The food, the company, the conversation, the kids table. I have not had a kids table since I was a kid myself. I have always had the longest Charlie Brown table ever strewn together pushing back the television and coffee table to make way from one end of the kitchen to the other end of the living room. Those who came were always welcomed, even the family I never invited that found their way to the table from my mother’s invite.  Irene sat with me and the adults. I am not sure if she wanted to sit with them, the answer was no thank you when they offered- she was fine. She is always “fine.” The “them” was the kids and Irene may have been the youngest of them all still in high school.  The just graduated and off to college kids who were all very chatty with smiles and talk of the latest adventures from college to work, along with several of the very older kids with scandalous adventures of their own. I am sure the conversation was fun and exciting, it sounded that way from where I sat at least and at one point I even longed for the kids table.

Irene sat alone on the couch prior to dinner with her headphones, laptop, phone and her game just in case one died and she had no choice but to use the other. Now at the first mention I would be attending dinner with his family mine said what about Irene, I knew she would survive. No matter if she were with me or them she would be ok and the truth is with less younger toddlers running rampant around the house I knew the better option for her was with me. Why? Autism.

That one word seems to sum up so much of our lives, of hers. Of course for the added bonus we get Depression, ADHD and Anxiety because why not. Someone has to do it right? Not everyone understands this and that’s quite alright. Usually most grasp the subtle nuances Irene delivers, some do not. The way she does not look you in the eye, she does not even look your way while you may be talking to her or vice versa. There are still those that just don’t get it and “it” is the idea that she can just go jump into a conversation and start asking questions. That is not Irene. That more than likely will never be Irene either. The subject at the adult table had led to this and Michael’s brother in law insisting Irene go talk to his children at the kids table immediately because they knew everything she needed to know about math and college. Now this may be true. Once again this is not something that would be happening. Instead Michael’s sister jumped into the conversation saving Irene from embarrassment, not that anyone was aware that was happening. I was.

I had noticed Irene excused herself to the restroom. Her escape. Her refuge away from people, from loud people from nosy people from pushy people from people. Not that the adults were any of that, however I am aware of how my daughter perceives the world; how she perceives me. Her refuge. A quiet place; and this place in this house was the bathroom that I would have to check on her momentarily as to not draw attention to her disappearance. When she reappeared her face was bleeding on her forehead below the hairline and on her nose. Irene had taken away her thoughts and embarrassment by picking at herself and I am thankful it did not go too far this time. That she had the ability to stop and return to the table. I think the only person to notice other than myself was Michael’s sister Leslie; she never said a word but I could tell with a look she was aware.

College. Now all of this conversation started because my Irene is on her way, it is that time. It is the time that all parents work for, they hope for; that their child who is so brilliant and bright, so successful, so young with the whole world at their fingertips can go away to any college in the country and have any future they want and work for. In fact all day today we have spent with college applications, taking brief diversions for Christmas tree decorations and pizza not to mention a few tears with the pressure she must have been feeling to be the perfect child with the perfect grades to get into college for her pushy mother. I left her alone to answer a question and oh my goodness if I told you what she wrote I could be arrested. Her mind all I can say has no limitations, no understanding of what she says and how she says and writes it can affect her life- she has no filter. Irene with all the academic brilliance she has holds no understanding of the real world and how it works or that what she writes could limit her entrance no matter how perfect her grades are.

Which brings me to the box folder. Throughout my navigating the world and advocating for my daughter with all her disabilities learning about resources and what I need to do to ensure she has all the opportunities anyone in this world has and that includes the best college experience at the best college she can get into and grasping the fact myself that no matter how brilliant my child is the reality lies in the actuality that I cannot send her across the country because I need to be able to get to her just in case. In case she needs me, in case she melts down- just in case. That’s it. I am quite aware of the facts and they are without a doubt no matter what; Irene will more than likely live with me for her entire life. She does not have the ability to navigate the world on her own. The world is too dangerous for her to understand and she needs protection. With all her academic achievements she does not understand the value of a dollar, how it is worked for and how it spends. How she can say no and yes that might even mean with her very own body- those are my fears for my seventeen year old child who I hope one day can go away to college to earn a degree and just experience that life. For even just a moment if that’s all she gets.

The box folder is the woman who works folding boxes. She has a master’s in English literature and she folds boxes for a living part-time with an organization that sends a shuttle bus for her that picks her up in front of her parents’ home and delivers her at the end of her day back to her parent’s home. Her sister told me her parents sent her to college to give her something to do for a few years and when she was done the fact remained that all she was capable of doing with her master’s degree was to fold boxes. I am sure she is the best box folder out there!

Am I pushing her? Irene. All I want for my child is happiness. That is all. She wants to go to college, she wants to live in a dorm, she want to do things away from her mother like other people do. I understand. I want to give her all those things too; most importantly I want her to be safe. It is my job as her parent to keep her safe. I get to do that today. What a gift that I get to be present for.

The Chicken Lady

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Addict · Addiction · Bloggess · Family · Farmer · hopeless · Life · Life story · Mother · Recovery

I remember vividly what it was like to be so hopeless….

To just not want to be! Not there with him, not there with me! One more time with a busted face. In the situations that I got myself into, those one more time here I go situations. I was not a victim, I was a product of the life that I chose.

I remember though that last drive in the field with him. That out in the middle of nowhere, off the dirt road in the country farming field drive. Yep- I thought that was it. He did love me in his way and I loved him in mine. The sick individual that I was who had all but succumbed to the disease of addiction. I remember just listening to him go on and on about me of course; what I was and what I was making him do to me. What saved me that day was my God. One more time. When the farmer drove out to see who was in his field I stared at him through the truck window blankly.

Please see me is what my face said without a word. See me! You will see it one day I hope in a missing persons report, maybe on television- have you seen her? They might be able to reconstruct my body with the bones that have been found. I don’t know how long it will take them to find me, I don’t know how long it will take anyone to notice I am gone. Those are the thoughts that went through my head on that day. He did look at me, almost as if he knew what I was thinking. He drove back around and stared at us as he drove out of the field as if to say to him- I saw her.

That farmer probably would have been the only one to wonder where I was. I had been gone for so long. Gone from my family, from my children, from life. I was a shell of a human being with no spirit in her whatsoever. I had become a machine who was capable of the most outrageous sort of nonsense that always ended in pain. Pain was my friend however, it was the only thing that stayed with me throughout the years. What I knew to be true in my life. Pain.

Within twenty-four hours though the pain was just too much to bear. I could no longer hide my heroin use from him which made everything worse than what it already was. If I could just use a little more to take me away. Just one more. Just for a little bit. All the other drugs we used were ok, but not this one, not with him. As he walked around the truck telling me all about myself he never noticed- he couldn’t see. All those stashes I had, all the pills the booze the this and the that. I took it all. I just wanted to not be there. I wanted to be anywhere but there.

I was supposed to stay in the truck and not move. That was my mission while he went in real quick. It felt like forever and I was falling out. I just needed to move- my head was spinning. I made it to the corner store, they knew me well in there. I remember seeing him drive the other way- he never saw me. The last thing I remember was the clerk asking me if I was ok and the next thing I remember was her.

She asked me if I knew my name. She asked me if I tried to kill myself. I nodded yes. With tears rolling down the corner of my eyes as they are now and the ventilator tubes down my throat, iv’s everywhere I nodded yes. She bent down and whispered into my ears,”honey don’t say that, you don’t want to go where they are going to send you if you say that, I am going to ask you again.” When she did I said I shook my head no. I called him when it was time to be released but he did not answer. Of course not, he did not know the number. The only other number I knew was my mother’s.

She picked me up, it was less than those twenty-four hours again. I could barely walk and couldn’t stay awake for sure. She wanted to talk to me but that was not possible. She didn’t know. What she saw was the hospital release, with all the drugs and mom called the police. She was always calling the police on me, from the age of 13 she had been calling them. This time was different though- they took me. With all her screaming and crying not to take me, they took me. Once again that was my God. Removing me from a situation I might not walked away from.

I went down for a 45 day commitment for failure to pay child support on those children I had abandoned. Within two weeks Richard would be held up in a hotel on Richard’s Blvd. no less for a twenty-two hour stand-off with every law enforcement agency around including the ATF shutting down the local freeway. I watched this go down from my cell to the best of my ability until they took me out of my cell for that recording. He was willing to come out and surrender if he could speak to me- that wasn’t going to happen, but they were willing to relay a recording. So I did. I started it off with the gun he has is mine and any crime used with it before this stand-off was mine as well. It ended with tear gas and you can imagine the rest.

Shortly after my release that time I was introduced to detox. I needed it. It would not be my first, but it is what it is and it took what it took. I am grateful for those times in my life. They have made me who I am today. Many people I knew from those days said when they saw him on television with the stand-off they knew I was dead already. He had killed me they thought. He must have killed me otherwise I would have been there with him in that hotel room. What I know today is if I had been there- he would have.

Did I mention I married him? I did. Or at least I did just as soon as I could and that would take a little bit longer. That is not today’s story though.

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