Forever positive is the way I will be
A choice not mine but accepting as thee
Down the road it became clear to see
The difficulty of living with HIV
I accept that I will never be free
To live my life without HIV
Forever positive is the way I will be
Regardless of my disease, I have to be me
Accept me for the person you see
Not the label society pushed on me
The woman with the power of three
Living her life forever with HIV
Being positive is a choice for me
One I had before my fate with HIV
God’s love continues to guide me
Forever positive is the way I will be
Monday, July 14, 2008
Thursday, July 10, 2008
You wouldn’t think anything good could come from a person having AIDS however; many good things have arrived from my diagnosis and one of the best was the qualification for therapy. The healing, freedom and empowerment that emerged from the sessions have been a bit surprising and exhilarating, exhausting and sad; yet all good. Due to the stockpile of criteria of either not having enough or having too much of this or that, I was not eligible nor could I afford to seek counseling or therapy before HIV entered my life. Prior to becoming a person living with AIDS, I had the same mind set as any other “normal thinking” human being walking the earth. Therapy and counseling were for crazy and mentally ill persons in need of continuous institutionalized care. This was surely not me. I lived alone, maintained a good job, paid my bills, was very independent and was the farthest thing from crazy that I could describe. Keep in mind, I did not realize the need nor understand the benefits of therapy till I was approaching forty years old, had an AIDS diagnosis and started literally falling apart both physically and mentally. I was loosing control with little explanation from the doctors, friends and or family as to what was happening or why. Was this what they called a midlife crisis? Were the genetic crazy genes from one side of the family or other starting to show up in me? I did not like what was happening, what I was feeling or where my thinking was going and I needed answers.
Little did I know the journey it would take for me to go through to get beyond the grip hold I had on the past and live for today so I could dream for the future. Little did I know how holding on with such a grip hold to past negative and destructive thoughts, feelings, people and events was literally polluting my body mind and soul? It was quickly adding to my deterioration fueling the HIV virus and robbing my soul the room it needed from my body to be able to grow. Little did I know, letting go of the grip hold I had on the past would bring about my authentic self and allow me to live as the person I was designed to be by God. This holds true for any person, not only HIV+ individuals.
My viewpoint of therapy has changed considerably over the past 5+ years. I now feel anyone over the age of 21 needs to have some form of therapy to sort out the trunk full of emotional baggage we all carry with us in life and keep accumulating. The earlier we begin sorting out what is important and hold onto only what is truly adding value and that which gives us a positive feeling and let go and discard of the junk, the better our lives will be. Mine has taken a true turn for the better since I have learned to let go of the grip hold of the past, live for the now while dreaming and planning for the future as I continue unpacking that emotional trunk of life. I can now say my emotional baggage has been reduced from a cargo freight container to an over night bag and I am still unpacking. It is an ongoing process.
Therapy helped me make amends with my father as we developed a positive and healthy relationship prior to his death a couple of years ago. I am ever so grateful for the sessions and shedding of tears it took for me to be able to allow it to develop and grow. Both of us grew in spirit and healed the emotional wounds we had been scarred with many years earlier. I now feel my father’s spirit with me quiet often and it is very comforting and peaceful. It was only in the last fifteen years or so of his life did we develop any kind of father and daughter relation. I am sure I would not have this pleasant peace with his death had I not let go of my grip hold of the past.
Therapy helped me recognize long embedded thought patterns I held onto enabling me to remain paralyzed in my thinking and moving forward with what I really wanted from life. My natural and first reaction was I do not think negative nor hold onto anything that is harming me. Boy was I dead wrong! With the help of my therapist, I now see how holding onto phrases such as “That’s just the way I am”, or “What if’s?” or how about the one we all hold onto, the “should have been” or feeding the negative thought pattern to our brain continuously tellingly it “we are not good enough”, or that we are “stupid”? No matter what we feed our brain over and over, we all have the ability to change it and make it better if we choose to. Only if we let go of the grip hold of the past can we live happily in the now.
During the course of therapy I was able to identify people that had entered the threshold of my life with both positive and negative affects. I was able to dive into the core of each relationship and unpeel the layers of laughter, hurtful words, tears of anger and joy and so forth to determine how my mind and body reacted upon each reflection. I was able to become honest with myself as to why I allowed each relationship to be a part of my life and determine if it was a healthy relationship to continue or not. I was also able to develop the emotional tools needed to make the necessary changes to clear the people clutter out of my life and release the grip hold of the past as I held onto the good. I’m still clearing the clutter.
In my own reflecting and healing, I have been able to identify people around me which continue to live with a grip hold on the past. Unfortunately, that is where their thoughts, desires and lives remain, in the past. They may go through the motions of present day however they are forever hording the thoughts, hurts and anguish from yester year allowing themselves to wallow in their own self pity of who done me wrongs and the way things should have been. Sadly, I know a man that is missing out on experiencing a loving relation with companionship of a lady he has known and loved for over twenty-five years; only because he refuses to let go of the grip hold of the past he holds onto. He allows his sarcasm and resentment of his victimization to rule what is in the now prohibiting possibilities of what could be in the future. I know a lady that holds onto her grip hold of the past by reminding her and others of the way things should have been her entire life. She lives with the anguished thoughts that others have done her wrong and the way things should have been according to her. She too sees herself as the victim of the past. There is a man I know that holds onto the thought pattern that he is not good enough therefore instilling his own insecurities into every relationship he enters therefore sabotaging it before it even has a chance to develop. I know others with such a grip hold on the past that it keeps them from loosing weight, kicking drugs, cigarettes and alcohol and keeps them in abusive relationships. We are all guilty of having a grip hold on the past however it does not mean we have to allow it to continue to rule our present day lives. History will repeat itself if given the opportunity so make the changes you wish to see in yourself so destructive history is not repeated.
It doesn’t take years of therapy and counseling to make changes. All it takes is the willingness to be honest with our selves and have the desire to do something about it; and to make changes. It takes the courage to take that first step outside of our comfort zones which is always the hardest and scariest step. It also takes the desire not to be a quitter so when you fall after the first step or two; continue picking yourself back up and going at it again. It does help to have someone knowledgeable and unbiased to help equip us with the proper tools in identifying the destructive and paralyzing thought and behavior patterns we have developed throughout our lifetime. Be willing to ask yourself some valuable questions and be able to look at your life with eyes wide open and ask yourself, “How’s this working for me?” “Am I living life as I desire it to be?” and “Am I willing to do something different to get the results I want and if so what am I willing to do?”
If your answer is the same as it has been with your grip hold on the past, let it go and see how your life changes for the better.
Little did I know the journey it would take for me to go through to get beyond the grip hold I had on the past and live for today so I could dream for the future. Little did I know how holding on with such a grip hold to past negative and destructive thoughts, feelings, people and events was literally polluting my body mind and soul? It was quickly adding to my deterioration fueling the HIV virus and robbing my soul the room it needed from my body to be able to grow. Little did I know, letting go of the grip hold I had on the past would bring about my authentic self and allow me to live as the person I was designed to be by God. This holds true for any person, not only HIV+ individuals.
My viewpoint of therapy has changed considerably over the past 5+ years. I now feel anyone over the age of 21 needs to have some form of therapy to sort out the trunk full of emotional baggage we all carry with us in life and keep accumulating. The earlier we begin sorting out what is important and hold onto only what is truly adding value and that which gives us a positive feeling and let go and discard of the junk, the better our lives will be. Mine has taken a true turn for the better since I have learned to let go of the grip hold of the past, live for the now while dreaming and planning for the future as I continue unpacking that emotional trunk of life. I can now say my emotional baggage has been reduced from a cargo freight container to an over night bag and I am still unpacking. It is an ongoing process.
Therapy helped me make amends with my father as we developed a positive and healthy relationship prior to his death a couple of years ago. I am ever so grateful for the sessions and shedding of tears it took for me to be able to allow it to develop and grow. Both of us grew in spirit and healed the emotional wounds we had been scarred with many years earlier. I now feel my father’s spirit with me quiet often and it is very comforting and peaceful. It was only in the last fifteen years or so of his life did we develop any kind of father and daughter relation. I am sure I would not have this pleasant peace with his death had I not let go of my grip hold of the past.
Therapy helped me recognize long embedded thought patterns I held onto enabling me to remain paralyzed in my thinking and moving forward with what I really wanted from life. My natural and first reaction was I do not think negative nor hold onto anything that is harming me. Boy was I dead wrong! With the help of my therapist, I now see how holding onto phrases such as “That’s just the way I am”, or “What if’s?” or how about the one we all hold onto, the “should have been” or feeding the negative thought pattern to our brain continuously tellingly it “we are not good enough”, or that we are “stupid”? No matter what we feed our brain over and over, we all have the ability to change it and make it better if we choose to. Only if we let go of the grip hold of the past can we live happily in the now.
During the course of therapy I was able to identify people that had entered the threshold of my life with both positive and negative affects. I was able to dive into the core of each relationship and unpeel the layers of laughter, hurtful words, tears of anger and joy and so forth to determine how my mind and body reacted upon each reflection. I was able to become honest with myself as to why I allowed each relationship to be a part of my life and determine if it was a healthy relationship to continue or not. I was also able to develop the emotional tools needed to make the necessary changes to clear the people clutter out of my life and release the grip hold of the past as I held onto the good. I’m still clearing the clutter.
In my own reflecting and healing, I have been able to identify people around me which continue to live with a grip hold on the past. Unfortunately, that is where their thoughts, desires and lives remain, in the past. They may go through the motions of present day however they are forever hording the thoughts, hurts and anguish from yester year allowing themselves to wallow in their own self pity of who done me wrongs and the way things should have been. Sadly, I know a man that is missing out on experiencing a loving relation with companionship of a lady he has known and loved for over twenty-five years; only because he refuses to let go of the grip hold of the past he holds onto. He allows his sarcasm and resentment of his victimization to rule what is in the now prohibiting possibilities of what could be in the future. I know a lady that holds onto her grip hold of the past by reminding her and others of the way things should have been her entire life. She lives with the anguished thoughts that others have done her wrong and the way things should have been according to her. She too sees herself as the victim of the past. There is a man I know that holds onto the thought pattern that he is not good enough therefore instilling his own insecurities into every relationship he enters therefore sabotaging it before it even has a chance to develop. I know others with such a grip hold on the past that it keeps them from loosing weight, kicking drugs, cigarettes and alcohol and keeps them in abusive relationships. We are all guilty of having a grip hold on the past however it does not mean we have to allow it to continue to rule our present day lives. History will repeat itself if given the opportunity so make the changes you wish to see in yourself so destructive history is not repeated.
It doesn’t take years of therapy and counseling to make changes. All it takes is the willingness to be honest with our selves and have the desire to do something about it; and to make changes. It takes the courage to take that first step outside of our comfort zones which is always the hardest and scariest step. It also takes the desire not to be a quitter so when you fall after the first step or two; continue picking yourself back up and going at it again. It does help to have someone knowledgeable and unbiased to help equip us with the proper tools in identifying the destructive and paralyzing thought and behavior patterns we have developed throughout our lifetime. Be willing to ask yourself some valuable questions and be able to look at your life with eyes wide open and ask yourself, “How’s this working for me?” “Am I living life as I desire it to be?” and “Am I willing to do something different to get the results I want and if so what am I willing to do?”
If your answer is the same as it has been with your grip hold on the past, let it go and see how your life changes for the better.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
After my parents had been divorced for a number of years and I had moved away, my Daddy met and married a Christian lady named Anita. She is everything I could ask for in a stepmother. It has been Anita’s influence, lifestyle and loving support that guided me back to Jesus Christ even though it has taken me 20+ years to get here.
It has been through Anita’s example and inspiration that I have incorporated into my daily schedule time to connect with God, time to read my bible and time to remember others. Every morning in my prayers, I ask God to use me as a vessel, a tool, to spread his message and to help others in whatever way he sees fit. The morning of April 3 was no exception.
As I flipped open my daily planner, it dawned on me it was the day before my little baby dog Abby had passed away, seven years earlier. I loved that little dog more than anything. Not having children of my own, she was my child, my baby and she had epilepsy. The ten and a half years Abby and I had together are years I would not trade even if I could. That little dog brought tons of joy to my life and many a smile to my face. My love for her and other animals run deep.
Daddy and Anita live with her youngest son and his family and assist with raising the grandchildren. Last Christmas brought a surprise present from the children’s mother, a puppy! The teacup Yorkie named Romo, after the football player, weighed a total of two pounds and followed Anita around the house constantly being under foot. Like most small dogs, Romo had a big ego and an attitude to match, unless of course, he was up against the vacuum cleaner. Then he would tuck his tail and go hide and Anita would have to hunt and seek him out when she finished the floors. It didn’t take long to get attached to Romo. He was cute, little and loving and he was also the first dog I have known of Anita being extremely attached to. Anita loved Romo like I loved Abby.
Later that afternoon, I was talking to my mother on my cell phone when the land line phone rang. Thank goodness for caller ID for I could see what looked like my Daddy’s cell phone number appearing. I did not answer and allowed the call to go to voice mail. Within a few minutes, I finished my conversation with my mother and checked to hear the message I thought my Daddy would have left. I was a bit surprised not to hear a message however; sometimes he doesn’t leave one. I double checked the number to ensure I had noticed it correctly. That is when it dawned on me it wasn’t Daddy calling but it was Anita’s cell phone number that appeared instead. Their cell phone numbers are one digit apart. By now, I was getting a little puzzled since Anita barely has time to look after three grandchildren with hectic and different schedules, a son and daughter-in-law, a husband and tend to a rather large household, give time to her community and serve God much less have free time to have idle chit chat with me or anyone else. Needless to say, her plate is full and over flowing and she deserves and is in much need of a pampering vacation. Knowing this, my first thought was something had happened to my Daddy yet I was questioning in my mind if something like that were wrong, why didn’t she leave a message? I had been meaning to make time to call for it is easy to allow the days to slip past without contact; allowing our busy schedules to come first. I dialed her number. When she answered, I told her I noticed she had called a few minutes prior and was returning her call. After a pause, she said she had not called me. A little taken back by her words, I told her that her number appeared on my caller ID not more than a few minutes before and asked if Daddy could have called me on her phone? She said no, no one had called me as far as she knew and her phone had been with her the entire time. We both sat in silence for a moment when she said, “It was God calling you because he knew I needed someone to talk to.” Instantly I could hear her tear-strained voice. My heart leapt as I as she told me about Romo.
Anita had let little Romo outside as she had many times. Even though great measures had been taken to ensure the holes and escape routes in the fence were repaired so Romo couldn’t escape, he did. That afternoon, he found the one and only hole in the fence that lead to the neighbors’ backyard housing two really big, mixed breed dogs. The dogs are playful and not at all viscous. When they saw Romo come through the fence, they probably thought it was a toy and wanted to play with him. Being the big and clumsy dogs they are, while being playful, somehow Anita’s baby Romo died.
Immediately Anita ran over to rescue Romo’s body but it was too late. While she was knelt down gathering Romos lifeless body, the big dogs didn’t have a clue anything was wrong and continued to be playful while jumping up on her. The dogs did not intend to harm Romo or Anita. Romo is now in Heaven and Anita is unharmed other than her very broken heart.
Did God call me to ensure Anita had someone to talk with that knew and understood the pain her heart was feeling that afternoon? Did God call to give me comfort in knowing Abby was one of his animal angels and she was with Romo as he crossed over the Rainbow Bridge into doggie Heaven? I may never know how the series of events happened that afternoon or why. You might say it was all coincidence and I accept that. For to me, coincidence is God and yes, I believe he does call us.
Christine ~April, 2008
It has been through Anita’s example and inspiration that I have incorporated into my daily schedule time to connect with God, time to read my bible and time to remember others. Every morning in my prayers, I ask God to use me as a vessel, a tool, to spread his message and to help others in whatever way he sees fit. The morning of April 3 was no exception.
As I flipped open my daily planner, it dawned on me it was the day before my little baby dog Abby had passed away, seven years earlier. I loved that little dog more than anything. Not having children of my own, she was my child, my baby and she had epilepsy. The ten and a half years Abby and I had together are years I would not trade even if I could. That little dog brought tons of joy to my life and many a smile to my face. My love for her and other animals run deep.
Daddy and Anita live with her youngest son and his family and assist with raising the grandchildren. Last Christmas brought a surprise present from the children’s mother, a puppy! The teacup Yorkie named Romo, after the football player, weighed a total of two pounds and followed Anita around the house constantly being under foot. Like most small dogs, Romo had a big ego and an attitude to match, unless of course, he was up against the vacuum cleaner. Then he would tuck his tail and go hide and Anita would have to hunt and seek him out when she finished the floors. It didn’t take long to get attached to Romo. He was cute, little and loving and he was also the first dog I have known of Anita being extremely attached to. Anita loved Romo like I loved Abby.
Later that afternoon, I was talking to my mother on my cell phone when the land line phone rang. Thank goodness for caller ID for I could see what looked like my Daddy’s cell phone number appearing. I did not answer and allowed the call to go to voice mail. Within a few minutes, I finished my conversation with my mother and checked to hear the message I thought my Daddy would have left. I was a bit surprised not to hear a message however; sometimes he doesn’t leave one. I double checked the number to ensure I had noticed it correctly. That is when it dawned on me it wasn’t Daddy calling but it was Anita’s cell phone number that appeared instead. Their cell phone numbers are one digit apart. By now, I was getting a little puzzled since Anita barely has time to look after three grandchildren with hectic and different schedules, a son and daughter-in-law, a husband and tend to a rather large household, give time to her community and serve God much less have free time to have idle chit chat with me or anyone else. Needless to say, her plate is full and over flowing and she deserves and is in much need of a pampering vacation. Knowing this, my first thought was something had happened to my Daddy yet I was questioning in my mind if something like that were wrong, why didn’t she leave a message? I had been meaning to make time to call for it is easy to allow the days to slip past without contact; allowing our busy schedules to come first. I dialed her number. When she answered, I told her I noticed she had called a few minutes prior and was returning her call. After a pause, she said she had not called me. A little taken back by her words, I told her that her number appeared on my caller ID not more than a few minutes before and asked if Daddy could have called me on her phone? She said no, no one had called me as far as she knew and her phone had been with her the entire time. We both sat in silence for a moment when she said, “It was God calling you because he knew I needed someone to talk to.” Instantly I could hear her tear-strained voice. My heart leapt as I as she told me about Romo.
Anita had let little Romo outside as she had many times. Even though great measures had been taken to ensure the holes and escape routes in the fence were repaired so Romo couldn’t escape, he did. That afternoon, he found the one and only hole in the fence that lead to the neighbors’ backyard housing two really big, mixed breed dogs. The dogs are playful and not at all viscous. When they saw Romo come through the fence, they probably thought it was a toy and wanted to play with him. Being the big and clumsy dogs they are, while being playful, somehow Anita’s baby Romo died.
Immediately Anita ran over to rescue Romo’s body but it was too late. While she was knelt down gathering Romos lifeless body, the big dogs didn’t have a clue anything was wrong and continued to be playful while jumping up on her. The dogs did not intend to harm Romo or Anita. Romo is now in Heaven and Anita is unharmed other than her very broken heart.
Did God call me to ensure Anita had someone to talk with that knew and understood the pain her heart was feeling that afternoon? Did God call to give me comfort in knowing Abby was one of his animal angels and she was with Romo as he crossed over the Rainbow Bridge into doggie Heaven? I may never know how the series of events happened that afternoon or why. You might say it was all coincidence and I accept that. For to me, coincidence is God and yes, I believe he does call us.
Christine ~April, 2008
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
My Friend Insomnia
About twelve years ago I awoke at straight up three in the morning to the silence of the house. The glow of the street lamp post shone through the bedroom window illuminating the room; providing enough light to walk around without stumping toes or banging into furniture. After numerous tosses and turns, I decided to stop fighting my sleepless night and go ahead and get up. After all, what was a couple of hours prior to the alarm going off anyway? Tossing the bed clothes back I got myself out of bed ensuring not to step on the dog curled up asleep on the rug tossed by the bed. At least one of us could sleep I was thinking. As I entered the kitchen, my wits were still in bed as I stood in the middle of the floor scratching my head contemplating what to do at this time of the morning or was it night? Whichever you want to call it, it was still pitch black outside, other homes were dark, the stars were twinkling bright, the cars on the freeway were almost nonexistent and you could hear the sound of crickets chirping in the yard. It was even too early for the early morning edition of the newspaper to be delivered. As time has gone bye, I have grown to think of it as early morning, not the middle of the night.
Scratching my head must have stimulated my thinking enough to make a pot of coffee which came almost automatically as if I had awoke at my usual time. I grabbed a book feeling assured I would get sleepy and could head back to bed after a cup of hot coffee and a few paragraphs. I put the coffee on to brew and headed for the bookshelf. Reading is something I have been fond of all my life yet never really appreciated my love of it till I meet my friend Insomnia. I scuttled back to the kitchen to capture the fresh aroma of the coffee brewing as I could smell the aroma floating in the air of the small kitchen and breakfast nook. It had never dawned on me how refreshing and full of body the rich; delicious coffee smelled. I have drunk coffee most of my life and till that morning, never experienced the engulfing aroma and the pleasurable sensation my nostrils were breathing in. In the years prior, my coffee making consisted of the unconscious motions of going through the process like a robot yet never experiencing the full essence of what the coffee smelled like.
I poured my coffee and took my usual position on the couch, curled my legs under and cozied into the corner leaning right towards the lamp on the side table; opened the book and began reading all while sipping my coffee. Sip after sip, I could taste the coffee in a manner I had never tasted it before. I could taste the freshness of the coffee beans and analyze the flavor as it swept over my taste buds awakening my mouth to the warm sensation. Had I drank coffee for over thirty years to only now be realizing this delicious flavor and aroma? It is after all, the same brand I have drank from the beginning of my coffee sipping days as a little girl sitting with my Great Grand Mother. Could it be that I had never taken the time to get to know what was inside the coffee cup I had used for the last however many years? Was it only then on that morning that I truly became aware of the full bodied flavor of coffee? Could all of these questions be because of my new friend Insomnia? At that time, I wasn’t even aware I had a new friend much less how much I enjoyed sipping coffee as opposed to gulping it down without benefiting from truly experiencing the taste. I had always looked at it as a drink people drank in the mornings to stimulate the get up and go in them. Not a delicious flavorful experience as I had that morning. Strange things occur in the early morning hours.
By the time my coffee cup needed refilling, I had read a good amount of pages and was beginning to get into the content of the book. It was information I had heard most of my life but never really took the time to explore, till that morning. You see the book my hands gravitated to while standing in front of the book shelf in the wee hours of that morning was the Bible; King James Version of the New and Old Testaments. Closing the book and marking my page, I grabbed my empty cup and advanced towards the kitchen with some questions as to what I had just read. These were only the beginning questions as my quest began that morning for the true God, the truth to my own spirituality and to reclaiming my bond with self, my parents and what family ties I had left. Did my new friend Insomnia have anything to do with this? Years have gone by and I have now read the Bible three times cover to cover and still have questions.
By the time I refilled my coffee cup, my little dog Abby was awake and needed outside to take care of her business. Not knowing what may be lurking in the shadows of the yard, I decided to slip my house slippers on and proceed outside with her. After all, it was dark and I was a protecting mother. The early morning air was warm; the night sky clear of clouds as the neighborhood slumbered quietly tucked away in their perspective beds. As Abby sniffed around the yard and did the thing that dogs do, I sat on the step of the porch my Daddy had built and waited for her. Soon my attention went skyward to the brightness of the stars and the blackness of the background they were shining against. The moon was but a sliver of light in the northern sky almost directly overhead. I had watched the stars and observed the moon over the years but there was something about that morning and the presence I felt internally that had an affect on me. Somehow, I felt more connected and aware of the vast sky filled with so many twinkling lights and the energy emitted from the night sky as I sat outside in the quiet; taking in the beauty of God’s Universe. It was that morning my consciousness began an elevating process of my inner thinking, my inner being, my inner essence of self. It was at that moment, I started becoming aware I was merely a small particle of the grand plan and the world was not all about me. I look back now and can thank my new friend Insomnia for introducing me to this early morning beauty and the pleasure I now seek in meeting my old friend on the porch step most mornings each week.
Abby and I sat on that step for the longest time that morning. Contemplating the thoughts going through my mind and trying to process and make sense of the inner feeling I was experiencing. There was a calming yet awareness as if I had flipped a switch and something started a transformation process. Abby had crawled into my lap and curled up to nap till I was ready to make a move. She was such a little baby.
Upon entering the house, I noticed time had passed rather quickly since I had been awake and the alarm would soon be going off at its preset time of Five a.m. As I walked past my desk, I flipped on the computer as I headed to the bedroom to quiet the alarm that was now buzzing and screeching obnoxious sounds as it blared from one speaker while George Jones sang He Stopped Loving Her Today from the opposite speaker. How appropriate this scene was. For the first time, I was aware that this was the mood, the energies which greeted me on a daily basis and welcomed me to the world. I did not like what I felt with such racket going on. What had happened to the peace and comfort I had experienced only a few minutes before? I liked that feeling and wanted to have it again but for now, I had to precede with my scheduled day filled with meetings, traffic and the usual ya-ya of living and dealing with people in the everyday world. A part of me kicked into robotic mode as I checked email, showered and ventured into the concrete jungle and conducted business as I knew it then. I was hoping the loss of a couple hours of sleep would not affect my performance and clarity that day.
My friend Insomnia happened to pick the one morning of the week I had the longest scheduled day to enter my life. I barely made it home by Seven p.m. with barely enough energy to prepare something to eat, spend some quality time with Abby and check email, snail mail and phone messages. I crawled between the sheets a little before the nine o’clock local news and do not remember falling asleep I was so exhausted. Surely my new friend would not visit two nights in a row.
Again, I awoke at three o’clock in the morning to the same silence, lighting and scene I had the previous night. For whatever reason I woke up, I poohed it off to the natural sensation alerting me my bladder needed empting. I did make note the time was the same as it was the night before yet headed back to the cool crisp sheets I had crawled out from prior to Mother Nature calling. Rubbing my sleepy eyes, I was quickly becoming aware that a part of me wanted to get out of bed and have the same experience with the coffee, the Bible and the early morning sky as I had previously. How silly that would be when I knew I needed to get the other two hours of rest for the usual recommended amount much less try to recoup the two hours sleep I had failed to get the night before. I tossed and turned for about fifteen minutes and decided to stop fighting it. With that, I started the same process I had the previous morning and had the same wonderful experience with a bit added. For you see throughout the years, I have learned to make the most of my time with my new found friend from that morning long ago. Over time, our visits have brought with it an understanding and deeper awareness of what that time represents and how I allow it to affect me. I started listening to my body and paying attention to the natural highs and lows I experienced throughout any given day. I had always known I was a morning person yet never realized how much I cherished the early morning hours. The hours prior to the rest of the country awakening and the buzz of the craziness in full force starts.
With the many nights of sleeplessness throughout the years, I have grown to utilize my time to be constructive and make it work for me rather than against me. Not only do I enjoy every sip of coffee more, I take that time to connect with God, read, sort out my thoughts and sometimes exercise. I have grown to relish my early morning time as my spiritual time. This is the time I talk to God, hand him my problems, and make decisions about the day or my life without outside influences and noise pollution. It is the time of day I am the most creative and full of ideas. The time I want to write stories and letters. It is the time of day I come alive from my core being and connect with my maker. It is as if God awakes me so I can have time for Him without pushing him to the bottom of the list. It is the time of day I feel he walks the earth checking on his children and whispers in their ears their assignments for the day. It is this time of day in which I grow all while discovering, shaping and molding the authentic woman and human being God intended for me to be. Without this daily connection I feel lost and out of sorts. Without time spent with my friend Insomnia, my days are not as centered or full of life and spirit as they are on the days my friend and I share a cup of coffee. Thank you, Insomnia for becoming my friend.
Scratching my head must have stimulated my thinking enough to make a pot of coffee which came almost automatically as if I had awoke at my usual time. I grabbed a book feeling assured I would get sleepy and could head back to bed after a cup of hot coffee and a few paragraphs. I put the coffee on to brew and headed for the bookshelf. Reading is something I have been fond of all my life yet never really appreciated my love of it till I meet my friend Insomnia. I scuttled back to the kitchen to capture the fresh aroma of the coffee brewing as I could smell the aroma floating in the air of the small kitchen and breakfast nook. It had never dawned on me how refreshing and full of body the rich; delicious coffee smelled. I have drunk coffee most of my life and till that morning, never experienced the engulfing aroma and the pleasurable sensation my nostrils were breathing in. In the years prior, my coffee making consisted of the unconscious motions of going through the process like a robot yet never experiencing the full essence of what the coffee smelled like.
I poured my coffee and took my usual position on the couch, curled my legs under and cozied into the corner leaning right towards the lamp on the side table; opened the book and began reading all while sipping my coffee. Sip after sip, I could taste the coffee in a manner I had never tasted it before. I could taste the freshness of the coffee beans and analyze the flavor as it swept over my taste buds awakening my mouth to the warm sensation. Had I drank coffee for over thirty years to only now be realizing this delicious flavor and aroma? It is after all, the same brand I have drank from the beginning of my coffee sipping days as a little girl sitting with my Great Grand Mother. Could it be that I had never taken the time to get to know what was inside the coffee cup I had used for the last however many years? Was it only then on that morning that I truly became aware of the full bodied flavor of coffee? Could all of these questions be because of my new friend Insomnia? At that time, I wasn’t even aware I had a new friend much less how much I enjoyed sipping coffee as opposed to gulping it down without benefiting from truly experiencing the taste. I had always looked at it as a drink people drank in the mornings to stimulate the get up and go in them. Not a delicious flavorful experience as I had that morning. Strange things occur in the early morning hours.
By the time my coffee cup needed refilling, I had read a good amount of pages and was beginning to get into the content of the book. It was information I had heard most of my life but never really took the time to explore, till that morning. You see the book my hands gravitated to while standing in front of the book shelf in the wee hours of that morning was the Bible; King James Version of the New and Old Testaments. Closing the book and marking my page, I grabbed my empty cup and advanced towards the kitchen with some questions as to what I had just read. These were only the beginning questions as my quest began that morning for the true God, the truth to my own spirituality and to reclaiming my bond with self, my parents and what family ties I had left. Did my new friend Insomnia have anything to do with this? Years have gone by and I have now read the Bible three times cover to cover and still have questions.
By the time I refilled my coffee cup, my little dog Abby was awake and needed outside to take care of her business. Not knowing what may be lurking in the shadows of the yard, I decided to slip my house slippers on and proceed outside with her. After all, it was dark and I was a protecting mother. The early morning air was warm; the night sky clear of clouds as the neighborhood slumbered quietly tucked away in their perspective beds. As Abby sniffed around the yard and did the thing that dogs do, I sat on the step of the porch my Daddy had built and waited for her. Soon my attention went skyward to the brightness of the stars and the blackness of the background they were shining against. The moon was but a sliver of light in the northern sky almost directly overhead. I had watched the stars and observed the moon over the years but there was something about that morning and the presence I felt internally that had an affect on me. Somehow, I felt more connected and aware of the vast sky filled with so many twinkling lights and the energy emitted from the night sky as I sat outside in the quiet; taking in the beauty of God’s Universe. It was that morning my consciousness began an elevating process of my inner thinking, my inner being, my inner essence of self. It was at that moment, I started becoming aware I was merely a small particle of the grand plan and the world was not all about me. I look back now and can thank my new friend Insomnia for introducing me to this early morning beauty and the pleasure I now seek in meeting my old friend on the porch step most mornings each week.
Abby and I sat on that step for the longest time that morning. Contemplating the thoughts going through my mind and trying to process and make sense of the inner feeling I was experiencing. There was a calming yet awareness as if I had flipped a switch and something started a transformation process. Abby had crawled into my lap and curled up to nap till I was ready to make a move. She was such a little baby.
Upon entering the house, I noticed time had passed rather quickly since I had been awake and the alarm would soon be going off at its preset time of Five a.m. As I walked past my desk, I flipped on the computer as I headed to the bedroom to quiet the alarm that was now buzzing and screeching obnoxious sounds as it blared from one speaker while George Jones sang He Stopped Loving Her Today from the opposite speaker. How appropriate this scene was. For the first time, I was aware that this was the mood, the energies which greeted me on a daily basis and welcomed me to the world. I did not like what I felt with such racket going on. What had happened to the peace and comfort I had experienced only a few minutes before? I liked that feeling and wanted to have it again but for now, I had to precede with my scheduled day filled with meetings, traffic and the usual ya-ya of living and dealing with people in the everyday world. A part of me kicked into robotic mode as I checked email, showered and ventured into the concrete jungle and conducted business as I knew it then. I was hoping the loss of a couple hours of sleep would not affect my performance and clarity that day.
My friend Insomnia happened to pick the one morning of the week I had the longest scheduled day to enter my life. I barely made it home by Seven p.m. with barely enough energy to prepare something to eat, spend some quality time with Abby and check email, snail mail and phone messages. I crawled between the sheets a little before the nine o’clock local news and do not remember falling asleep I was so exhausted. Surely my new friend would not visit two nights in a row.
Again, I awoke at three o’clock in the morning to the same silence, lighting and scene I had the previous night. For whatever reason I woke up, I poohed it off to the natural sensation alerting me my bladder needed empting. I did make note the time was the same as it was the night before yet headed back to the cool crisp sheets I had crawled out from prior to Mother Nature calling. Rubbing my sleepy eyes, I was quickly becoming aware that a part of me wanted to get out of bed and have the same experience with the coffee, the Bible and the early morning sky as I had previously. How silly that would be when I knew I needed to get the other two hours of rest for the usual recommended amount much less try to recoup the two hours sleep I had failed to get the night before. I tossed and turned for about fifteen minutes and decided to stop fighting it. With that, I started the same process I had the previous morning and had the same wonderful experience with a bit added. For you see throughout the years, I have learned to make the most of my time with my new found friend from that morning long ago. Over time, our visits have brought with it an understanding and deeper awareness of what that time represents and how I allow it to affect me. I started listening to my body and paying attention to the natural highs and lows I experienced throughout any given day. I had always known I was a morning person yet never realized how much I cherished the early morning hours. The hours prior to the rest of the country awakening and the buzz of the craziness in full force starts.
With the many nights of sleeplessness throughout the years, I have grown to utilize my time to be constructive and make it work for me rather than against me. Not only do I enjoy every sip of coffee more, I take that time to connect with God, read, sort out my thoughts and sometimes exercise. I have grown to relish my early morning time as my spiritual time. This is the time I talk to God, hand him my problems, and make decisions about the day or my life without outside influences and noise pollution. It is the time of day I am the most creative and full of ideas. The time I want to write stories and letters. It is the time of day I come alive from my core being and connect with my maker. It is as if God awakes me so I can have time for Him without pushing him to the bottom of the list. It is the time of day I feel he walks the earth checking on his children and whispers in their ears their assignments for the day. It is this time of day in which I grow all while discovering, shaping and molding the authentic woman and human being God intended for me to be. Without this daily connection I feel lost and out of sorts. Without time spent with my friend Insomnia, my days are not as centered or full of life and spirit as they are on the days my friend and I share a cup of coffee. Thank you, Insomnia for becoming my friend.
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