Still Here

This morning I woke at 6 am just as the sun was starting to rise. With everything that is happening in the world we've been staying up late and sleeping in so I laid in bed for awhile thinking I would fall back to sleep, but just couldn't. I've really needed a release as day 20 of shelter-in-place begins. It's hard to explain, but this new normal just isn't normal at all and I've been holding in so much trying to navigate it and be strong. I wasn't quite sure what to do, so I made a cup of coffee, sat down at the computer in the empty, quiet, and dimly lit house and decided that I really needed some sister time. It has been almost seven years since my best friend and older sister Crystal died. And in the years leading up to her passing, she wrote a blog similar to this one. I've looked at it from time to time, and usually could not get more than ten minutes in without completely losing it. But this morning, in this moment, I needed to hear from her. I started reading and kept going, and kept going after that, until I got all the way to the beginning. Her nearly four years of journaling was like hearing directly from her, in her own words. Often a photo would support a post and I closed my eyes to try to place myself there with her. Her love letter to her daughter, my niece Rilynn, on her ninth birthday made me realize that my own baby, the one she posted about coming to see and hold who was born one day before her thirtieth birthday, will be nine in one month! There was a post and a photo from her trip to Chicago with just her and I as we started navigating divorce together in the midst of her terrible cancer journey. I wept. And wept. She loved so hard. She fought so hard. She LIVED so hard. Once she heard that she would likely die, she traveled. To Costa Rica. And Hawaii. And Mexico. And St. Martin. And Miami. And California. She found new love. She cherished moments with her loved ones. As she would probably say, "I rallied." There were surprises too. She went and visited our paternal grandmother and her girls met their Great Grandma. I didn't know that happened; or if I did I must've forgotten again. On two of her trips to visit me in California she mentioned what she was doing while "I worked." Man, oh man. If I could go back in time, I would've quit every single one of those jobs to have a millisecond more with her. She flew to see me and I still went to work while she was there? She said things to describe the smell of the sea, her view from an airplane, the despair she felt as her body fought against her. For a moment, it was like she was still here. And it was magnificent! Life is chaotic right now. We are all doing the absolute best we can. My clinical work with clients is all virtual now, but it is a constant reminder to me that we are in this together. Each experience is unique and valid and important. I would encourage you all to spend even a few seconds this weekend finding some type of self-care, whether that be a trip back in time to "visit" with someone like I did, a Skype visit in the here and now with someone you've been missing, or start planning a trip for the future (while airfare and travel is so inexpensive). As I went to post this, a Facebook memory crawled to the top of my screen. Wouldn't you know, she was here all morning and I didn't even know it!

Operation Introspection

I think everyone would agree that it has been a strange couple of days as we begin 'social distancing' and navigate a new world (at least for awhile). I would ALMOST say this has been the oddest couple of my days of my entire life, but that would not be truthful. This moment makes me think back on some of the other times in my life when I was aware, in some way way back part of my mind, that this is one of those periods that has been tattooed into my brain where my grandchildren and great grandchildren might ask me "where were you when the world quieted down for a few weeks/months?" Can you imagine their faces when I tell them that their Mama used a 'website' called 'Zoom' to meet with her teacher and I used a 'video' conference room to meet with my clients 'virtually' while I stayed at home and played endless rounds of Clue and Scategories? I can already cue the questions, "what's a zoom? And what is video? And what in the heck is a board game?" Instead of hearing what we actually did here they'll be wrapped up in the terms of the "old days" and how primitive this all sounds. And we will laugh and giggle together, there will be some wonder and amazement in their eyes, and they might even roll their eyes to one another and talk about their crazy old grandpa and all of his nostalgia. It reminds me of my experience with 9/11. If I tried hard enough I could force myself to remember what I was wearing as I laid in my dorm room and watched the planes hit the twin towers, from a television the weight of elephant and called my room mate from a phone with a cord to please come back because I was so frightened to be alone. I could feel the rise and fall of my t-shirt as my whole body shook. My heart raced, fast. So fast. Was something coming right this very minute to crash into me? What am I actually seeing with my eyes? Will I survive? Will they? While I remember the feeling and emotion, do you know what my eight year old asks? Why didn't you just send a "I'm safe" sticker on Facebook? Um, honey, there was no Facebook. No social media at all, unless you count live journal. I mean, was there even Wifi then? And all of the stuff that came after is now just common practice.....no liquids through TSA (who didn't even exist beforehand), an endless war in the Middle East in countries I still could never identify on a globe, and the start of political polarization that forced everyone (online anyway) into whatever corner they would be defending until the death from that point forward since everything you believed would now be worn as a badge of honor on social media. In elementary school, I had a project to interview my parents about where they were when JFK was assassinated. We were supposed to draw it into picture form (which thinking of it now is kind of morbid) but I have a vague memory of not understanding how to draw a Cadillac convertible. Sure, my grandparents drove Cadillac's but my Mom said President Kennedy's was different. I was annoyed and wanted to see a photo, but then again there was no Internet, no google where I could just hit 'images' and I had to use my imagination. And we could keep going back and back and find endless examples. It's not just milestone memories either. 'Have you ever seen a person die Grandpa?' "Yep, and part of me died along with them in that moment." 'Have you ever seen a baby be born?' "Yes, I was in the room when your Mama was born and my heart exploded into a million pieces like a firework when I saw her for the first time." My point in saying all of this is to remind us all that I believe most of us are in a vulnerable and emotional space right now. We are aware of how scary and frightening this all is, and even if we put on a brave face and say things like 'it's not that big of a deal' or 'everything will be OK' part of us is aware of the emotional impact this virus is having on us. And it's not just emotional, my restaurant job has been suspended. Millions of workers are scared about how they'll survive financially in the coming weeks and months, especially if this keeps on going this way. Your feelings are valid and important. I have moments of pure terror and fear as well. But then I am quickly reminded that the 10-days of independent study, each round of a board game, each television show I let my daughter watch because I just need a minute and don't really care that she's watched ten hours of TV today, the stocked up fridge, the void streets, the constant media news cycle pumping us full of information, social media, and social distancing will not matter a decade from now. Not to us individually anyway. And somehow that gives me some peace to make mistakes, try to stay present, binge watch good TV shows, pray for doctors, nurses, and other leaders, drink good wine, play an extra round of cards with my kiddo, call my Mama more often, and cuddle with my spouse at night. We will get through this and when we tell the story of 2020 to our kids they'll simply want to know- where were you when COVID-19 changed the world for a blink?

JUXTAPOSITION

It's been a chaotic fall and early winter. I've been working seven days a week as I divide my time between the clinic and my restaurant job to pay the bills. Yesterday was the first weekend day off we've spent at home as a family since the school year started and it was extraordinary and extraordinarily boring at the same time. I normally work at the clinic all day on Saturdays and then at the restaurant all day on Sunday, but somehow got scheduled off just by coincidence. I had begun to forget how fun Sunday morning FaceTime calls with Mom could be, followed by a homemade breakfast, some errands and shopping, then onto a rainy afternoon spent cuddling with the pups on the couch and watching old movies (Harper picked Return to Oz), a nice homemade meal, and some complicated puzzle-doing to finish up the night. Watching life through Harper's eyes is inspiring and thought provoking. Christmastime has always been a mashup of sadness and joy for me and this year seems to be the same. 2019 has been one of the LONGEST and HARDEST years of my entire life. While there have been so many positive memories, there has been a lot of pain too. My Mom's cancer battle continues as she fights for her life after an excruciating surgery five weeks ago. So many of you have reached out to her and I, and I can actually feel the love and prayers that you are pouring out and into us. Watching anyone you love go through something this horrifying takes a toll on your mental health. I wish I could offer some encouragement or insight, but most days I feel pretty hollow right now if I am being honest and forthright with you...and more importantly myself. For so much of my life I've been able to fake it til I make it and carry on as if the weight of everything was not going to get me down. In a world of Instastories and our online social resume broadcasted for everyone to evaluate and weigh-in on, its hard to keep track of what is real and what is not. But for the past three to four months, I am trying (albeit sometimes still failing) to be more aware of what is happening WITHIN me and honor those feelings as they come up. Part of what is sustaining me is my work. I took a HUGE risk and left a high paying career to chase my dream of becoming a therapist. I was never known for taking risks before this, so I think most people were surprised when I just quit and went for it. The most surprised person was probably myself as I had developed this defense mechanism of thriving on meeting or exceeding other peoples expectations. Now I know what you're thinking at this point...yes, but he must have secret money or something that somehow gave him the ability to take the leap and I really don't. Full transparency alert: We completely cashed out my 401K to pay off remaining debt and make a down payment on tuition. Currently there is $87.65 in our checking account. There is no back up plan, no secret money, no savings whatsoever. "But I just saw photos of you in NYC sitting near the stage at Hamilton and y'all travel ALL OF THE TIME and live such an LUXURIOUS life!" -yeah, thank you credit cards for a high enough limit to swipe it and hope to pay it back someday in the future. The moral of the story is WE ALL HAVE SO MUCH CRAP and things are NOT what they always seem. I love pretending, but the truth can often be brutal. But when I am sitting one on one with someone in my therapy room and I can connect with them on the painful or challenging things that are occurring in their lives all of that risk and uncertainty I took is worth it. And I know that I am exactly where I am supposed to be. I feel electricity pulsating throughout my body. Even typing about it is giving me chills. If I have learned anything from the death via suicide of my father, loss of my sister to cancer, heartache and heart break, troubled family relationships, and now another cancer battle with Mom it's that you have to still search for those pricks of light even when everything seems dark and dismal. I have a tattoo across my chest that says 'faith' in my own handwriting and links to 'love' written over my ribs. When my sister got sick with cancer, the doctor said all you need is FAITH, LOVE, and HOPE so I got a third tattoo of the word 'hope' printed multiple times starting at my sternum and going straight down my stomach all the way to my pubic bone. The words match the scar left after her major surgery, and interestingly my Mom's recent surgery incision is almost identical. This has become a constant reminder to me every time I catch a glance of myself in the mirror that tomorrow is a new day, and after the storm comes a rainbow. As we began wrapping up our family day yesterday, a coworker sent me a text asking to switch shifts so I ended up having a second day in a row to myself: TODAY! I am currently curled up in my bed drinking a sweet cup of coffee with a book right next to me that I've been dying to read and am going to have a self-care day. I have no agenda, no plans whatsoever. And that feels really really good. Bring it on 2020, I am ready for you.

Back to Life, Back to Reality

It has been a whirlwind summer and today we all go back to our regular routines. Harper is now in her third week of third grade and tomorrow I begin the final Practicum Clinical part of my graduate school as a student therapist at a counseling center here in Hollywood! It's hard to think that in a few short days I'll be assigned my first clients with the honor (and also responsibility) of becoming their counselor. We had a very short summer as Harper's school got out in late June and went back in mid-August. We all took off for Reno, Nevada in the first week of August for our annual pilgrimage to the Lahontan Reservoir. This was my twelfth adult trip out to the lake and I couldn't help but reflect at all of the memories made on this tiny area of Northern Nevada. When you are out there and take a few minutes to breathe, you see a million stars and I become flooded with millions of thoughts too. I'll never forget the first trip when I was twenty-one and re-meeting the entire O'B family; I was filled with nerves so my sister Crystal and her daughters who were 3 months old and 2 years old came out for support. It became our tradition and in the years after, so many other important people in my life joined in on the fun. When Harper was three months old, her aunt was in a car accident on the way to the lake and I can remember being so frightened. The year Michael Jackson died we all screamed out in disbelief as the news came over the radio. Bocce ball, jet skis, tree swings, boating, tubing, and let's face it LOTS and LOTS of drinking too; it's hard to imagine a meaningful summer and not associate it with that trip. This year, those same girls who were three months and two years came out, except now they are fourteen and sixteen years old and the most vibrant, hilarious, witty, smart, kind, and truly beautiful young women. And while it's been six years that their Mom has been gone, they are so filled with her amazing spirit, zest for life, and man do they look (and sound) just like her too. We all returned to LA together and the girls (my nieces, Harper, and I) went on a Hollywood tour and spent a day at Six Flags before Mom arrived from Detroit. It had been many years since Mom got to see my nieces and she's been battling cancer since the beginning of the year. She's been focused on her recovery and being well enough to enjoy the trip, and man-oh-man did we ever enjoy our time with her. We all spent a day in Santa Monica followed by a long weekend in Palm Springs with friends and family before Harper started school. My poor baby was so exhausted by the 12-day-non-stop-extravaganza that she ended up missing the majority of her first week of school due to a gnarly virus. Grandma Kim (Harper's other grandma and my Mom's best friend of many years) joined us and they took care of their sick girl and Mom and I went to a taping of Will and Grace (sooo fun) and the following night Sabin took her to a movie premiere with Jamie Foxx, Michael B. Jordan, and Bree Larsen! She really got the full Hollywood experience and it was so awesome to see her feeling better and kicking cancer's ass. This was my first birthday celebrated with my Mommy since I turned 17, and it was so sweet and awesome to have everyone together. We played lots of card games, had tons of laughs, and I am still in awe of her fighting and determined spirit. Mom left and a two days later my friend Kellie and her family arrived from New Jersey. Another Hollywood tour day followed by another amazing weekend in Palm Springs (can I just move there already?) happened this weekend, sitting pool side and enjoying the company and presence of those I love so deeply. My mantra this summer has been "BE HERE NOW" and I even had it printed on a piece of art in my living room for a frequent reminder. Next month we've planned a trip to the Poconos to celebrate another great friend and in February I am reuniting with my crew from college after many years of distance and life simply happening. A few lessons I've learned this summer: 1) Sometimes BEING HERE NOW isn't very fun, but it's still important. 2) Try to breathe a few deep breaths and appreciate what is in front of you right now. 3) I am human, I will make mistakes. 4) Mental health is important. Don't skip sessions with your therapist in months filled with so much stuff. 5) Take a few seconds to be GRATEFUL for what you do have. 6) Take a few seconds to be MINDFUL and set INTENTION for what you need. 7) Tell people how much they mean to you and how much you love them. 8) "If you can't love yourself, how the hell you gonna love someone else?"-RuPaul. Onward to regular life, meal prep, working, and getting stuff done.

Half Way Done

It's hard to believe that we are just now at the half-way mark of the year 2019. This has been one of the longest and most challenging years I've faced as an adult and somehow I am holding onto a small piece of optimism for the second half. I am learning (literally and figuratively) so much about human behavior and why and how we act and behave certain ways. Why is it that in crisis and stressful events so many people lose their minds? Turns out there is a biological and physiological explanation. Even when armed with the scientific understanding, it still doesn't help much in regular every day life. Especially when some people thrive in chaos and truly don't want or are incapable of getting and keeping help. Somehow when someone you love deeply is presented with a terminal illness, everything else seems so minor and trivial. I've begun focusing on putting my attention where it counts and attempting to be more present in the moment and not allow these distractions to, well...distract...me. So much of my past was based on gut-reactions and internalizing and evaluating every single thing placed at my feet. I am a "fixer" and "peace maker" and "decision maker" and someone people looked to for answers and direction. I'll still be those things because they make up who I am but with the pressure of being a full time student, worker, dad, husband, and the list just goes on and on, I honestly don't have the time or mental capability to balance it all so I just take each day as it comes and keep my focus on the relationships that are reciprocal. I love Brene Brown (seriously watch her Netflix special TODAY if you haven't already), and I remember her in a podcast several years ago talking about the gas-fillers and the gas-takers. We all need people who refill our emotional and spiritual tanks and whom you do the same for. Gone are the days for me where I give and give with nothing in return and feel depleted...I'll allow my future clients to pay me for that energy, thank you very much! Speaking of future clients, I was selected to begin my work with real clients in September at a community clinic in North Hollywood! I digressed, but in my regular non-therapist work, I want to laugh a lot. I want to have real-authentic conversations and look you in the eye, preferably over a glass of nice wine. I want to play Nintendo into the wee hours of the morning with my husband as we jam out to Katy Perry or Kirk Franklin or whomever. I want to reply to sweet and thoughtful text messages to a mother-in-law that I never dreamt would even message me to begin with. I want to send funny mi-mojis to my niece and remind her how much she is loved. I want to swim in pools with friends, drag my feet in the sand, barbecue on the back patio, wake board at lake, sleep under the stars. I want to have picnics in the park with my daughter and dogs and watch her read her Hamilton books with so much joy and wonder. And for the first time in a long time, I am going to do just that. Here's to Act II of 2019, bring it on!

A Birthday Love Letter

I never really paid that much attention to birthdays before I met you. Of course, I celebrated and had parties and such, but it didn't really FEEL like that big of a deal. To be fair, I had trouble FEELING much of anything at all. Then I met you, my love, and then I got see someone every day who lives each moment like it's their last. Laughs. A lot. And just like that, I was forced to see how beautiful life can be when you take the wheel and jump in the drivers seat. You are inspiring, and it isn't just me who feels that way. Part of me is jealous and anxious that everyone loves you so much. I'd love to steal away all of that positivity and energy and warmth and keep it all to myself. Somedays I do. But you are the most YOU sitting in the middle of a large circle of people, smiling and joking and criss-crossing the energy back and forth. It's like watching the most brilliant Broadway musical the way you can captivate anyone who gets the pleasure of interacting with you. You're confident, but not cocky (well....most of the time). You're charming but not a pushover. You're emotionally present without being overly emotional. Sometimes I just sit back and watch as you navigate the walkway of a mall or enter a building or meet someone new. You slightly arch your back and walk in with such confidence, no matter what you might find inside you know who you are and you aren't willing to sacrifice THAT for anything. I have to be honest, sometimes when you're home alone with our girl, I watch the home video cameras. Not because I am trying to spy, but just the way you look at her and treat her with dignity, lovingness, and joy makes my heart burst. You fill her glass of milk about 3/4 full as to not spill, but also so that she gets the right amount to drink. When it's early in the morning, you just lay there and pretend to sleep but I see you constantly checking on her and watching in amazement at the person she is. With her, you, and I we can take on the world. You are my world. Thanks for always reminding me that we get this one shot at life. You are my teacher, a constant source of strength. It's hard to remember life without you, when I see pictures from before you I think you might be in the

other room and that's why you're not there. You've given me new life and on this day, just like every other day, we celebrate your life. Thanks for always being you! -AJFR

Mom's Cancer Battle Update

I spent a full week with my Mom as she battles Stage III Rectal Cancer. It’s been overwhelming, terrifying, challenging, beautiful, and harmonious all at the same time. I feel like 2019 has perhaps been thirty-six months long so far, when in reality it’s only been two. I arrived to Detroit last Saturday with my posse in tow, my amazing and supportive husband and my big blue eyed girl that makes everything better. Honestly, preparing for the trip, I had no idea what to expect. Mom is under a rigorous chemotherapy and radiation regimen that will last five weeks. The first week included chemotherapy that is attached to her and distributed over the course of a week. By the time we’d arrived, the first week was over and this mysterious chemo attachment had been removed. I was so excited on the flight from Los Angeles to Detroit, but I was also worried. I had been to see my sister along her cancer journey and every time our eyes met I was presented with a different version of cancer. Would Mom be unable to walk and talk? Would her hair be falling out in clumps and how could I possibly explain this all to a seven-year-old whose only exposure was her dying Aunt. ***Sidenote…would you believe me if I told you Chicago Midway does NOT have a Starbucks?!?*** When we first locked eyes, Mom looked like she’s always looked. Hopeful, and funny, and determined. I was so cold and shivering that I really didn’t take the moment to really LOOK at her. It just seemed like a spring break trip and the fam jam and I had arrived for a fun visit. I got to visit with my Aunt Colleen, who is my Godmother and someone I have laughed with endlessly my whole life. We all made small talk and tried to navigate the range of emotions we’ve all been feeling, but it was nice to be there. To physically see for myself what the heck was going on. My Aunt Donna, Mom’s best friend since childhood, met us at home with a home-cooked meal of Spaghetti and Meatball...man-oh-man must she know my daughter well...and we enjoyed visiting and talking and laughing and maybe a few tears of crying. I am terrible with expressing emotions. When I feel that tickle in my throat that leads to a cry, I know the perfect remedy to make it subside. Swallow hard twice and keep it moving. I kept looking at my Mom. I would stare for a few moments when she’d engage with someone else so she couldn’t see me stare and really observe. “What’s actually happening in there?” I’d ask myself and try to figure it all out. Sunday night I got to visit with my Gramma; we did the math and I think it’s been nine years since I’d seen her. She is beautiful, always has been and always will be to me. We share something so special, I can hardly put it into words. And my wonderful Uncle and his beautiful wife, they’ve all been so amazing as Mom navigates this crazy and scary and wild journey. A few things I know for sure. 1) Cancer absolutely sucks. 2) You only get one family and you need to treasure every moment...even the difficult, uncomfortable, or crazy moments. 3) Your Mom is way stronger than you know...she carried you inside of her body for 40 weeks (or 42 in my case) and is a superstar. 4) We can only be our own authentic truth of a self and expect nothing in return. The week with Mom was hard at times. I hate to see anyone I love so very sick. But, I have to be honest with everyone including myself. I didn’t know what a fighter she was until I saw her face to face. She can somehow prepare herself for battle day in and day out for radiation, knowing it would wipe her out for the rest of the night. Illness is a strange thing. The evenings and nights are much harder than daylight; it’s almost if God also has to sleep at night too or something? Isn’t it that way with most illness though, not just cancer? If I could take some of the pain away I would in a heartbeat. I’ve always loved being in charge and calling the shots, but with illness you don’t get that luxury. You have to take each hour, or minute really, as they come and just go with it. As Mom's treatments are daily at the same time, I watched as dozens of other fighters arrived while I waited in the lobby. So many people are fighting with no one; they too find the strength to fight even without support. I wanted to hug them all and offer to drive them or come cook them a meal. Mom's oncologist says the ones who have the most success are surrounded in love of family and friends, and she has that in spades. My husband is my superhero. As we watched my sister leave this earth together and again now as my Mom battles this awful disease, he is always there steadfast in hope and reminding me that no matter what it’ll all be OK. I have no idea how this journey ends, but I know my Mom is strong, I am hopeful, and somehow someway this’ll all work out and teach us something at the same time.