Muuss-ings

You can take the girl out of New York but ...

2007-04-11T21:07:00.000-04:00

I am a proud New Yorker. By that I mean that I am a resident of the great N-Y-C, the Big Apple, one of the best and most visited cities in the world... New York City. I have lived in "The City" as we New Yorkers like to call it, for over 15 years now and, like any relationship that goes on for that long, The City and I have had our ups and downs. After all these years, I am still passionately in love with New York even if I am exhausted by the constant energy that it requires of me. It is like an abusive lover with whom you have great make-up sex; no matter how bad The City sometimes treats me, I know that I will always be lured back once again. The lows of New York can be REALLY low, but the highs... well, let's just say there is nothing like it anywhere on earth. There is a palpable energy in the everyday hustle and flow of the city streets. Yes, it can be dirty and loud and rude, but it can also be beautiful and euphoric and inspirational. Better people than I have written so many countless songs, poems, and tributes to this remarkable place (not to mention all the important movies that would never have been half as memorable without this City's landscape as its most vital character) that it feels pointless and unnecessary to espouse all of its virtues here. New York truly is a living breathing entity full of personality and faults and emotions. She is a bold chica with whom most people feel strongly about one way or another. There is very little room for middle ground or passive feelings while in New York City.

Like most of us living in New York City, calling myself a New Yorker has been a large part of my identity. I have felt more proud to say I was a New Yorker than I ever did to say I was an American. We New Yorkers take pride in our status as people living in the country's most unique and often photographed city. It is a currency that pays dividends anywhere we go and say where we are from. Being a New Yorker means having weathered extreme circumstances as if they were the most mundane everyday occurrences. For example, most of us New Yorkers have at some time:

-watched rats eat out of a city garbage can
-had someone steal our cab
-waited for over an hour for a much needed subway to arrive
-found a cockroach the size of a small bird in our bathtub
-fought a landlord over heat, hot water, rent or the like
-watched numerous "crazy" people talk to themselves on the street
-been flashed by some guy on the subway late at night
-lived in an apartment the size of a large walk in closet
-been sung or danced to in a subway car and asked repeatedly for money
-listened to two people scream profanities at each other on the street for all to hear
-packed ourselves into a subway car so tight that we have had numerous people we did not know touching us in places we wouldn't let someone we did know touch us
-witnessed or been a part of a violent crime

The list goes on and on. Yes, most of us have been through a whole hell of a lot in New York. We wear our battle wounds with pride and a shrug as if to say, "Well, if I can make it here I really CAN make it anywhere." We know whatever didn't kill us here has made us stronger and we strut a little anywhere else we go knowing what it means to say we are from New York City and how what we have experienced has changed us in ways that others wouldn't or couldn't understand.

I vividly remember the day in my early 20's when it hit me, walking in midtown Manhattan, that I lived in one of the greatest cities on earth and how I much I loved it and how it had in some way spoiled me for anywhere else. Even in my later 20's, after traveling the country and visiting all the biggest cities: Boston, Chicago, Philadelphia, San Francisco, San Diego, Seattle, D.C., LA, Atlanta and the like, I remember thinking that there was nowhere else I would want to live in this vast country of ours. And so continued my love affair into my mid-thirties and my marriage and right up to the birth of my son.

A child changes life fast in The City. The car alarms and the crazy people that used to be merely annoying become overwhelming and exhausting, and the apartment that was considered "cozy" before quickly becomes unbelievably small. Before you know it, the suburbs of Long Island don't seem quite so bad. For me, the important and difficult decision to move from this City I love so much didn't come easily and I would probably have never even considered it save for my son, Rainer, but with him I yearned for more space and my husband home more. (He is gone 11 hours a day with his commute to work on Long Island.)

The scope of this giant transition is not lost on me and it has called into question my New Yorker identity, an identity so enmeshed with my personality that I have been left way-laid at the thought of who I will be after this move. To the rest of the world moving from New York City to Long Island 45 miles away is not that big of a deal. To New Yorkers, Long Island might as well be Alaska. The "bridge and tunnel" folks, as those from Long Island and New Jersey are known, are a source of consternation and the butt of many jokes by City Dwellers. So the question now presents itself, "Who will I be when the joke is on me?"

New Yorkers are not unlike ex-prisoners or career military people for whom life on the outside is just a little less colorful or meaningful or vibrant. For these people there is always a way to get re-arrested or re-deployed so as to stay in that continually adrenalized state. Similarly, the heightened conditions of The City force some into a perpetual state of overdrive that makes it hard to live anywhere where the pace is even a hair slower or the people just a tad less colorful. So how does one live a life on "the outside?" I guess with the realization that there is in fact LIFE on the outside.

For me the identity change from New Yorker to Long Island Suburbanite and the down-shifting to a less harried life in what I will now call, in the last vestiges of my denial, the "outer-outer boroughs" is a recognition that maybe life doesn't always need to be so intense or so crazed. I have come to the realization that I don't need those giant highs and lows to feel alive anymore and that I don't have to feel like a sell-out just because I have a back-yard or a space to grow some tomato plants. And maybe after enough time has passed and I have sufficiently let go of my old lover NYC, I can find another lover in my new town of Bay Shore. Sure, the intensity of our passion might not be the same, but it might also feel good to not be so battered all the time.

And when all is said and done, I will always be the girl who lived and breathed and ate New York City in all its glory and all its flaws. And as the Brooklyn born Gershwin once wrote, "They can't take that away from me."

I Love MY MIL!!!

2007-03-09T13:28:00.000-05:00

When you think of the title "mother-in-law" your mind immediately goes to overblown sit-com characters, joke greeting cards, and late night comedian monologues. From the way the comedy world is structured, Polish people are stupid, women are all gossips, everyone's husband is lazy, and you can't like your mother-in-law. Needless to say, I think all that stereotyping is a load of hooey! (A quick shout out to my good friends Jacek, Julia and Kate - all from Poland and three of the coolest and brightest people I know!) So much hooey in fact, I am here to publicly state that I LOVE my mother-in-law!!! And what's not to love! She is bright, kind, wise, un-meddling, generous, supportive, and well, she loves me like a daughter, not an "IN-LAW". And I love her right back.

This is not a cold shoulder to my own mom. There is no substitute mommy thing going on here. None of the "My mom is mean to me so I have adopted my husband's mother" kind of thing. No, I love my own mother fervently and there is no replacement for her in my life. She is a rock star mom who is always there when I need her, just as generous, just as kind and loving. I just got this cool EXTRA present in my life in the form of my MIL and I couldn't be more grateful. I genuinely love doing things and spending time with her. My husband, son, and I even took an 8 day trip out west together with her and my also amazing father-in-law and we are in the process of a move into a two-family home with them both. When I tell people this, their eyes get wide for a moment until I add, "Oh, no, I love my in-laws. I'm excited about the move." "Really??" their eyes seem to say.

I've heard all the horror stories, read the articles in Vogue and Cosmo about dealing with the "difficult" mother-in-law, and I know how genuine that experience is for so many people. I just don't know what to say. I guess I'm lucky. Or, maybe luck has nothing to do with it. Maybe if you meet an awesome guy, like my husband, there is bound to be an awesome mom connected to him. Or - and I am not trying to give myself the credit here - I just never bought into the stereotype in the first place and made room for the possibility that we could have a great relationship.

Mostly, I think our relationship is a testament to her bravery as a parent. She was, from the very beginning, able to really let her son go into this marriage and never felt like she needed to compete with me for his love or affection. She knew that she didn't lose him to me, but rather that their relationship would shape-shift and flower into a different, more vital arena, one where their love for each other stayed the same and her role in his life could never be replaced, but that the day to day priorities in his life would have to.

I, for one, hope I have half as much of her grace and courage when my own son finds a partner.

The Medicalization of Birth

2007-02-22T06:44:00.000-05:00

To change the experience of childbirth means to change women's relationship to fear and powerlessness, to our bodies, to our children; it has far-reaching psychic and political implications.

-- Adrienne Rich, Of Woman Born, 1976

Despite what many women have been conditioned to believe by the health care profession, birth is not a medical issue. Giving birth is a natural occurrence that the medical establishment has taken over to make money and disempower women. This makes me very angry.

Most people know a natural birth is better. Better for the mom's recovery, for the baby, for breastfeeding, for having your baby skin to skin ASAP after the birth (proven to lower blood pressure for both mom and baby and promote bonding), and the list goes on and on. And a midwife/doula birth is the best way to ensure having the natural birth you want. Midwifes have been helping women have natural births for millennia. They are the wise women and sages of the ages.

The story of my own labor and birth is not told how I originally envisioned it being told. I really wanted a natural birth and even labored at home till I was 8 cm before getting to the hospital.I instinctually knew that once I got there I could kiss good-bye all my best laid plans. Needless to say,I had a very unplanned C-section that I believe I did NOT need but because of hospital red tape was "forced" or at least bullied into having. I think this happens way too often in hospital settings and with doctors either because they are afraid of getting sued or because they don't get paid to sit around and watch you labor and sometimes just get tired of waiting. The hospital environment is in itself an unproductive place to advance your labor and give birth. Here are just some of the many reasons why:

1) Fetal Monitoring.
Hospitals demand that you put on a fetal monitor the minute that you get there; the problem with the fetal monitor is that if you're looking for something to be wrong you'll find it. They've done studies that prove that the rising rates of c-sections directly corresponds to the rising rates of fetal monitor usage. Fetal monitors hurt the way you labor, as they make it impossible for you to move around and squat - they force you instead to lay on your back. Which brings me to...

2)Lying on your back for most if not all of labor.
How can you use gravity to your advantage with birth if you are on your back?!! I mean come on, our bodies weren't meant to give birth laying on our backs - for ages women have been squatting, and there's a reason for that. It helps the baby move through the birth canal. A midwife allows you to give birth in any position you feel best, unlike doctors in a hospital setting who have been trained to deliver in only one position - the worst one for the woman.

3) The immediate and ubiquitous IV.
The minute you so much as sneeze in any hospital for any reason, they hook you up to an IV. I remember going to the emergency room for severe back pain and cramps that would later prove to be a bad UTI and the nurse giving me an immediate IV. I asked her why and what was wrong with me and she said they didn't know but regardless, I needed the IV. There are two major things wrong with an IV during labor and birth. One, the adrenaline of getting an IV slows your labor, as adrenaline stops the flow of oxytocin, which makes labor possible. And two, an IV even filled with just electrolytes and water to hydrate you is going to affect the baby's blood sugar level when they're born. Many hospitals will say after a baby's born, if they're over 8 lbs, that they need formula because their blood sugar can't handle just breast milk. Not only is that not true, but the blood sugar level dips because of the IV the mom received during labor.

4)Breastfeeding is affected negatively
Two of the La Leche principles that demonstrate the connection between hospital births or births with any drugs and breastfeeding problems are as follows:

a)Mother and baby need to be together early and often to establish a satisfying relationship and an adequate milk supply.

b)Alert and active participation by the mother in childbirth is a help in getting breastfeeding off to a good start.

How can these two things be allowed to happen within the hospital setting of tests, drugs, and doctor intervention. As my good friend Liz once wrote, "I think it's no coincidence that a lot of the scary birth stories that ended in horrible breastfeeding problems were births with lots of medical intervention. The birth stories that end with maternal satisfaction are the ones with little to no intervention." And hospitals can do nothing but intervene. Liz goes on to write, " OBGYN's are surgeons. And if there's one thing I've learned from watching SCRUBS it's that surgeons LLLLLLLOOOOOOOOOVVVVVVEEEEEE to perform surgery." Well said. You don't go to a hardware store for flowers. Why go to a surgeon for a natural, intervention-free birth!

For my next birth, I am planning a midwife VBAC (vaginal birth after c-section) at HOME. This is just my personal choice. For me, I see now that birth is NOT a medical issue but a natural thing. I know that home births are scary to some, but having been through a birth where all control was stripped from me, lived through the horrible dysfunctional world of the hospital - even armed with lots of information beforehand - I see that no matter how wonderful a doctor is, they still exist within the western medical system that is founded on treating birth and pregnancy as illnesses and women as too weak to handle them. I am choosing a home birth because it:

1) Allows labor and birth freedom

2) Promotes family bonding

3) Allows mother and infant bonding

4) Allows the mother to be more comfortable

5) Allows the baby to be more comfortable

6) Prevents unnecessary medical intervention

7) Promotes a less painful labor

8) Produces emotional well-being

9) Provides as much as or more safety than a hospital

10) Is much more convenient!

(reference- http://www.nchomebirth.com/art-whatMakesHBdiff.html)

I know that a home birth for many will not be their option. The next best thing after that... a midwife in a birthing center, although, birthing centers are in hospitals and do have the hospital culture still embedded deep in their philosophies and practices. If you are set on a hospital birth, then I just urge you to really check into your hospital. What is their C-section rate, their policy on skin to skin between mother and baby immediately after birth, even with a C- section, their position on breastfeeding, etc.? And then after you have carefully selected your hospital, get yourself a great doula! No one thinks they need a doula but with a hospital birth, they're imperative, as they're the only way to have a liaison/advocate between you and the bureaucracy of the hospital. I thought my husband and my mom could be my doula, but they just didn't have the savvy and the experience of the hospital situation to be able to advocate for me in the way that I needed during that heighten moment in my life.

If I can write one thing that people will take away with them, regardless of where they choose to give birth or how, it is to TRUST your body. You can have a drug-free birth if you want it. I'm not going to tell you that labor is a picnic - it isn't. But the minute it's over, you forget the pain, biologically and chemically. Your body doesn't allow you to remember it. My first birth experience was not at all what I wanted and I am still, 14 months later, in a mourning period over it. I mourn the c-section, the 4 hours before the nurses and doctor would let me hold my son saying I was "too tired", and the sterile hospital environment and all the crappy things that were said to me like, "Oh relax, you have your whole life to hold your baby!" I think it's appropriate to have some anger over the desire of the medical establishment to control women and their bodies. My biggest hope and wish for any pregnant woman is that regardless of how difficult, painful, or complicated your birth may be, that you have no regrets. I think that is more possible with a midwife and/or a doula. Again the wisdom of my friend Liz needs to be shared here. She recently wrote, "I strongly believe that just being a mother is being an activist. The little choices we make every day do shape our world. It can be really empowering."

some reference to check out:

Websites-
http://www.llli.org/llleaderweb/LV/LVFebMar04p11.html
http://www.babycenter.com/refcap/pregnancy/childbirth/168.html
http://www.gentlebirth.org/ronnie/homesafe.html
http://www.midwiferytoday.com/articles/homebirthchoice.asp
http://www.mothering.com/articles/pregnancy_birth/pregnancy_birth_main.html

Books-
Immaculate Deception II by Suzanne Arms
Ina May's Guide to Childbirth by Ina May Gaskin
Thinking Woman's Guide to a Better Birth by Henci Goer
The Nature of Birth and Breastfeeding by Michel Odent
Silent Knife by Nancy Wainer Cohen & Lois J. Estner
The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding - La Leche League International

Soulmates in Cyberspace

2007-02-08T07:29:00.000-05:00

My husband, Matthew, is my soulmate. Now, I know how trite and overused that word is nowadays, but he truly is mine. Yes, yes, I know all about the images in storybooks, the false "ever-afters" and the need to be rescued that trip up so many people in their pursuit of a life partner. I would never say that Matt "completes me" - that terrible Hollywood movie line that made millions of women sigh and perpetuated unhealthy beliefs in what a real and lasting relationship or marriage is based on. No, I know very well that no one person can be everything to another person and that one must be completly and fully in love with one's own self before ever even dreaming of fully loving and feeling complete with another person. I know all that stuff from Relationships 101, and thus do not use the word "soulmate" lightly.

I am a woman who has done tons of work on myself, had years of therapy, and gone through the hell of self-hatred and back to find out that I am a pretty interesting and inspiring person, with my own merits and my own accomplishments. So when I say that Matt and I are soulmates, I say it with the gravity and sobriety that those words carry. I mean to say that our souls are those that most mirror and connect to each other, making it possible for us to be our best selves when we are with each other and when we are in the world, souls unfettered by the shackles of jealousy, possession, and a need for control which dominate so many relationships.

The position of soulmate was not an easy one to fill in my life, believe you me! I spent years searching for someone with a similar mix of passion, artistry, humor, and sheer nerdiness to be able to walk with me down the road of marriage, children and an unknowable future. "Okay, okay... do tell," you say, "Just HOW did you meet this soulmate - the being who most makes your heart sing and ignites your secret dreams, desires, and passions???"

I met him on an internet dating site. Yes, unbelievable, but true.

Okay, so here's the story: I broke up with a guy that I was with for three years and really thought I would marry. I wasn't even interested in dating till a year later. The relationship and subsequent break up really snapped me in half. I had no interest in internet dating but so many close friends keep pushing me towards it. Even my therapist was in on it. So finally I thought, "What the heck... it can't hurt, and if nothing else it will shut them all up."

I started by putting my profile on Match.com and after about 15 minutes had over 65 responses. I was overwhelmed, but carefully and methodically narrowed the emails down. Slowly, I started having some phone conversations with a few of these suitors and then went on a BUNCH of dates. Okay, actually a slew of them. Now I was on a mission. I WOULD meet a soulmate! I would not rest. I would tire. I would drink pots and pots of peppermint tea and thwart many obnoxious advances just to be able to hold hands with the man who could be the father of my children.

After a while, I was going on so many dates that I had to keep note cards with the guy's name, job and relevant information on them so as to keep it all straight and not embarrass myself on the date. "Tonight is Bob. He is a musician. We talked about politics and favorite kinds of chewing gum on the phone last week," I would coach myself before entering the restaurant. Something had gone terribly wrong.

Needless to say, the dates were all bad. I am not exaggerating. I mean, really, really bad. One guy's only deep conversation was to ask me if I thought I was more like Ginger or Marianne on Gilligan's Island. I told him I was like the Professor. Next, there was the guy who after hearing I was a self-defense instructor, told me that he "could kick my ass if he wanted to." Then there was the man who reached across a table, took my hands in his own, and said, "For such a pretty girl, you have such ugly hands." Oh, there are many more such horror stories, but I will just leave it at that. You all have great imaginations, I'm sure. Those bad dates went on for about 3 months!!!

I changed internet dating services and checked out Dreammates.com. It was mostly the same thing for a while, except the guys and the dates weren't nightmares; they were just "not right for me" kinda guys. Maybe it was the site change or maybe my screening process had just gotten a bit better, I don't know. Either way I was still VERY defeated and about to give up. Soulmate on the internet? What was I thinking? I told an acquaintance of mine who had suggested the internet dating thing that I was taking my profile down. She said, "Terri, don't do it! Just wait two more weeks and if nothing happens then you can take it down. I have a feeling you are close to meeting someone special." I was like, "Yeah, right... meeting a psychopath!"

I don't know why I listened to her but I did, and a week later I got my future husband's email. We had a 100% match, and that wasn't even the half of it. We e-mailed back and forth, then we talked on the phone for hours. When we met for coffee for the first time, we talked for 8 hours straight. A friend of mine thought I was abducted or dead when she didn't hear back about how it went after the first two hours. Our next dates were 12-14 hours each, and this continued for 2 months until we finally HELD HANDS! By then we were already in love with each other so when the first kiss happened later that night... well, let me just say that "knees getting weak" is not just a metaphor for people in love. It is a reality.

I promise you that although I was searching for one, I never really believed deeply that soulmates existed until I met Matthew. It all sounds so corny I know, but now there's no doubt in my mind that they exist. Our first date was 6/1/03, first kiss 7/27/03, we were engaged 11/23/03, and married 8/21/04. And our beautiful son arrived on 12/15/06. Every day with my family is just an amazing gift. It is phenomenal to think about where I was and that I almost never met this man because I was going to give up or not even post on ad on-line. I can't imagine my life without him now.

I know many people are skeptical about on-line dating, and I think that is with some good reason. I know it is difficult, time consuming, and sometimes even costly. Going out to eat a few nights a week can take a toll on your budget for sure. I know also that there are a lot of "bad" dates out there in the way of meeting the "right" person. I know there are risks and vulnerabilities, but when you juxtapose it with the abundance of blessings and love and trust and true companionship that could be waiting there for you if you risk it, then it is a no-brainer. Really! If I can meet my soulmate, on-line no less, then truly anyone can. Most people know me as a very picky, intensely passionate, opinionated, and high-strung woman with a past full of bad relationships and some icky baggage. How liberating it is to be loved despite it all or, even better, because of it all. Matthew has taught me that.

On the eve of Valentine's Day - a holiday invented to sell greeting cards and stuffed bears and make single people want to jump off buildings - I say to all the singles out there desperate to find their soulmate, what do you really have to lose? A little dignity? A few Friday nights? Just make your profile honest and specific. Everyone is looking for someone who is nice and fun. Go deeper than that! Oh, and talk and/or e-mail with anyone BEFORE you agree to meet them. My only advice. Beyond that, try to stay positive and have fun. A soulmate in cyberspace? Anything is possible. Truly.

Spiritual Solutions

2007-02-06T13:13:00.000-05:00

Baha'u'llah, the Prophet founder of the Baha'i Faith wrote, "The earth is but one country, and mankind its citizens." How badly are the people of the earth in need of these words now. All around us is war or the threat of war. Prejudice, economic imbalance, and old grudges prevent the world from advancing along spiritual lines. So many present day conflicts feel like the Hatfields and McCoys on a grander scale. Who knows any more who started it or who is right? All we know is that there seems to be no end to this on-going madness.

As a woman, a Baha'i and a survivior of rape, incest, and physical abuse, I consider all war, violence and murder wrong. I see both sides of the conflict in the Middle East and elsewhere and believe each are counterproductive and unjust. On both sides, innocent people are killed for a senseless purpose, a fight, it seems, over land that will one day be their grave. In this age, we need to be more globally minded and less nationalistic. The world IS one country. And what happens to one in our global community happens to all. War is not the answer to the problems the globe faces. Spiritual problems call for spiritual solutions. And whenever you take a side, you are biased.

Many acquaintances I tell these things to scoff and say that there are just some evil people in the world who only understand violence, threats, and fear. These acquaintances believe in government as the punitive parent, and are proponents of retributive justice and "an eye for and eye." One of my heroes, Gandhi, said, "An eye for and eye leaves the whole world blind." Yes, and now we are blind and stumbling. How will we ever find our way towards true justice, forgiveness, and peace in this manner?

I have survived the incest of a father and numerous rapes and still I believe in other answers. I do not believe in capital punishment. I do not believe in jail alone as a means of dealing with predators. I think I became a social worker because I believe very strongly that anyone can grow and change. Despite what I have survived, I still believe, as Anne Frank did, that people are basically good, that they are just hardened and hurt by the world. Some people allude to a connection between global and domestic violence when they ask me, "After all that you have suffered, why don't you, of all people, believe in retaliation, punitive justice and revenge?" Yes, rape and sexual abuse are a microcosm of war, and having survived many such wars, I see even more clearly how futile and damaging those wars, on any scale, can be. Despite everything I have weathered, I still believe that change and peace and trust can happen. I will not let those experiences harden me or allow me to hate. I will not become infected by the violence I have lived through, because then I am never free of it.

Still others accuse me of being a Pollyanna. They say that prayer alone cannot solve the world's problems. My answer to them is that spirituality and prayer are not the same thing. I do believe very strongly in the power of prayer and meditation to shift the energy in the universe, but I also recognize that this is not enough. Peace is active. It is not just about prayer and waiting. Gandhi accomplished much and never became the violence he spoke out against. Peace will not be possible as long as everyone waits for the first step to come from someone else. It needs to come from both sides. Peace is not just a lofty concept, but a tangible possibility we all should be moving towards. War is for those with no more ideas or too little energy and faith to believe in something new, something beautiful. Violence simply gives way to more violence.

My son Rainer makes my hopes for the world grow even deeper. What kind of world can we bequeath to him? The brilliant light in his eyes and the innocence in his smile are what make me yearn even more profoundly for peace and renewed understandings between people. His energy, focus and possibilty make me even more passionate about finding spiritual solutions to the issues that we, as a planet, face. I want Rainer to see the world - and all its peoples - as his human family, and be able to live happily without the threat of war and hatred. I know most people want that, too. The question is, what is the most effective way to get there? Certainly the same methods will bring the same results. Isn't this the truest definition of the word insanity? Lennon and Ono were right - war really can be over, but only if we really want it.

(For information about the Baha'i Faith - www.Bahai.org or www.bahai.net)

Until Now

2007-01-08T13:30:00.000-05:00

I have a deep need to help the survivors of incest. I know first hand how overwhelming it is to deal with the ghost of childhood sexual abuse. It can make you feel as though you are losing your mind. Other than excavating all the gunk from our past through therapy, the next best way I have found to heal is to help other survivors. I have built my life around this principle and mission.

My need to help others who have felt as helpless as I have felt is far reaching and ubiquitous. As a director and actor I have acted in a one women show that I have written called "Anatomy of a Doll" which deals with the incest and abuse I suffered as a child. I have performed this show at many places for many survivors and at various theaters. I have also directed the show "Changing Violet" about the authors struggle with abuse and incest. This show has had a NYC run and is currently looking to tour schools and universities.

I am also a self defense instructor with the company Prepare (http://www.prepareinc.com/). Prepare offers personal safety and assertiveness training which is for everyone but really therapeutic for survivors of incest and rape. They conduct on-site programs at corporations, for community organizations, and schools as well as classes at their own site. The program was a very important thing in my healing process and it feels good to give back to others the training that I received. It is much more geared towards the ways in which women are targeted for violence and where women have their strength. I really think the women's classes are unique and that every women should have this training.

I am also a licensed social worker with a LMSW who has worked with teens and adults in group work capacities as well as individually. I hope to do more work in this area, but having a child has slowed me down a bit. :-)

Essentially, I have surrounded myself with jobs and careers that enable me to be a part of the healing process of others. This has enriched my life.

Today, a woman I have never met emailed me after reading my bio on line. She reached out to me as a fellow survivor and asked what worked for me and how she could heal. This was a profound moment for me. This is how healing happens. Survivor to survivor. Experience to experience. One person's soul to another's. This is how it works in all twelve step programs (addict to addict), at La Leche League (one mom to another), and between victims, survivors, and thrivers. What a miracle it all is! What a joy to be a part of that legacy- to turn pain into momentum and healing.

Months ago I wrote a prose/poem after thinking about the whys and wherefores of my own history of abuse. "How and why could so many bad things have happened to one person, " I asked myself? This is what I came up with...

BECAUSE

Because I wore a low cut green blouse that showed my cleavage.
Because the way I walked was overtly sexual without ever meaning it to be.
Because I openly flirted with him at the party.
Because I didn’t think I had any other worth.
Because of my raised eyebrow, wry smile and sarcastic mouth and no one could ever tell what I really meant.
Because everyone at the party saw me sit on his lap and interlock my fingers behind his head.
Because when I passed out in the senior dorm room, I forgot to lock the door behind me.
Because after he snuck into the room, he whispered in my ear, “You know you want me.”
Because he never hit me.
Because I deserved it.
Because I had slept with so many other people, including some of his friends and had woken up many nights in filthy sheets not even knowing where I was.

Because the second time I forgot to lock the door again.
Because at one time, I actually thought of sleeping with him.
Because he was a childhood friend of my ex-boyfriend
Because that evening he made me an elaborate Italian meal with very expensive wine
Because he was bigger than me and I was so tired, just tired of fighting.
Because all I said to him as he pinned my arms above my head with one hand and removed my clothes with the other one was, “please let me leave my socks on.”

Because the third time I was sloppy drunk.
Because I had passed out in her bedroom.
Because when I asked her why she was doing this, she said because she knew I wanted her to.
Because she brought me gifts the next day as if it had been a date.
Because she said she loved me.
Because afterwards we were still friends for a while.
Because I didn’t know a woman could rape you.

Because the fourth time I was stone cold sober and still didn’t scream or fight him off.
Because there was a fourth time.
Because there was never a weapon.
Because I let him walk me home at night even though I knew it was a bad idea.
Because it was in a public place.
Because I didn’t scream when he pushed his fist in my mouth and then his penis.
Because I didn’t struggle, bite him, or scratch his face.
Because before it happened I thought he loved me.
Because I was scared shitless.
Because I didn’t feel a damn thing.
Because at one time, I had given myself to anyone who could give me drugs, so what did it matter if someone just took me.
Because, if I did want to report it, it would have been his word against mine and he was wealthy and white and powerful.
Because there was an overlapping image of my childhood fear and of him pressing down on my head and I had no idea what time it was or how old I was anymore.

Because I blamed myself.
Because the deep shame of it held me silenced in its grip for years.
Because, after everything else that had invaded me, how could this one last violation matter to anyone… to me…
Because of deja vu.
Because my mind went missing when it happened and I only held shreds of memories in the fleeting corners of my mind.
Because I can’t remember all the details of it, like a car accident, I only have the screeching of brakes and then the hospital afterwards, big gaping holes in between.
Because what difference does it make if it was 4 rapes or 4,000, no one would believe me anyway.
Because who gets raped that many times without it being their fault.
Because I was used to it, used to being a target.

Because of my father.
Because of him.
Because he spent years grooming me for it.
Because by the age of 5 he taught me to greet all of his male friends with a hug, a kiss, and a new dirty joke.
Because by the age of 8 he taught me that the most valuable thing I could learn in life was how to be a good and always available lover.
Because by the age of 12 he was talking me through how to give “good head.”
Because it felt as though it was supposed to happen.
Because of the incest.
Because when it happened again my body just steeled itself and waited, once again, for it to be over.
Because it was easier to wait it out than to fight; waiting it out being all I had ever known.
Because my body reacted, a mutiny against my mind and desires.
Because my body had always betrayed me.

Because of my mother.
Because she didn’t protect me.
Because she helped me learn to keep it to myself when she seemed to not notice.
Because society doesn’t protect women and the courts and the lawyers and the people would have re-victimized me again and again.
Because we live in a “blame the victim” world.
Because I was a walking cliché in a world of clichés and I didn’t want to be just one more.

Because of my brother.
Because I was afraid and wanted to live, if for nothing else, for him.
Because of my brother’s smile and the way he loves cats.
Because he would never see me the same way again.
Because no one would see me the same way again.

Because of my family.
Because of the constant violence and denial and hopelessness that had been pounded into us from the time we were six.
Because it all seemed so normal.

Because of me.
Because I thought I was a bad child.
Because I never knew to hope for more.
Because violence felt so intimately wrapped up in love.
Because I didn’t know any better.
Because there is randomness in life and it could have happened to anyone.
Because everything happens for a reason and for some reason it was meant to happen to me.
Because I was meant to grow from it and teach.
Because of it all…
Because of none of it.

But mainly because of my father.
Because of him…
I have been raped again and again and again and again
and never told and never fought back and never really lived

Until now.

Since the writing of this poem, I have found an even greater peace. I now know how to fully release it all and heal on a deep level...

By telling.
By helping other survivors.
By breaking the cycle with my son.

I will always have a bone-deep need to help others because of my own experiences and my life is richer because if it.

Oh the places you'll nurse....

2007-01-02T14:04:00.000-05:00

Hi all! Just back from a whirlwind tour of many western National Parks with my husband, in-laws, and one year old son. This trip just confirmed how much easier, stress-free and just out and out fun nursing a toddler is on the road. No bottles to bring, heat, or keep chilled. The milk is always fresh from the tap!

On this amazing trip, I was thinking about the diversity of places that I have been able to discretely nurse my hungry, tired, or fussy son. So here is a short list of places I have nursed... from the mundane to the picturesque...Enjoy!

PLACES I HAVE NURSED

1. in the airport
2. on the plane
3. at the Hoover Dam
4. in numerous hotel rooms
5. while hiking (in a sturdy, soft carrier)
6. on sofas
7. in restaurants
8. at the Grand Canyon during sunset, sunrise and the middle of the day
9. at Bryce, Zion, Arches, Canyonlands and many other National Parks or National Historical Sites
10. while typing this blog
11. while eating a grilled-cheese sandwich
12. in the park
13. in bed while sleeping
14. while writing emails to friends
15. anywhere my son was hungry, tired or fussy

I guess my purpose in writing this blog entry is to break the stereotype of the nursing mom who is chained to her sofa, unable to do anything except generate milk. I have felt so much freer to just grab my little guy, throw him in a front facing carrier and let him nurse happily while I go about the business... or in this trip's case... the recreation of my day. There is so much misinformation out there about breastfeeding; so many stories scaring women into believing that their body will not be enough ("you won't make enough milk", "It will be too hard, painful", etc) or that they will have no freedom. The truth is your body is more than enough and the freedom of nursing vast and filled with endless possibilities if you have the patience and creativity to persevere. In the final analysis, I guess I am just too damn lazy to deal with heating, mixing and maintaining the temperature of bottles. Viva La Boob!!!

Zen and the art of breastfeeding

2006-12-21T17:19:00.000-05:00

Most of my days are harried. There are always dishes to do, meals to make, diapers to change, phone calls to take, emails to send, and errands to run. Even the best and most enjoyable part of my day- the part that involves my son Rainer- can be exhausting. We play, we eat, we struggle to get down for naps, we read books, and he tries to redecorate the apartment while I follow him and try to put things back into place. I sometimes wish I had a pedometer to track all the walking I do in a single day just following him about. I bet you I walk the equivalent of 8 miles a day!

There is, however, one part of my day that is consistantly relaxing. So relaxing in fact that I can only compare it to a spa trip, a massage, the after sex glow or a shot of tequila(not that I have had any in the past ten years but I have a memory!). What is this amazing event? Nursing sessions. Yes, those few stolen moments with my crazy toddler when we sit in a darkened room, his body stretched across mine nursing are some of the most relaxed, spiritual, happy, and meditative parts of my day. I might go as far as to say of my life, as I am one of the most high-strung and constantly busy people I know. But it is that incredible. While nursing, I relax more deeply than I ever have, come to bigger realizations than I might have before, and am more centered and spiritually open than I thought possible for myself.

What makes this all happen? If I didn't know any better, I might assume that it was all just about rest, finally getting a second to sit in the dark and allow my body to come to repose. But I do know better. I know it is about much more than that. I know how magical breastfeeding really is in every way, including physiologically. Yes, breastfeeding in and of itself is a calming act. Sitting or lying down several times a day while you are snuggling the baby you love is sure to make even this hyperactive person slow down. But the most high-strung of us may need nature's other little benefit...the drugs. Oxytocin and prolactin anyone? They should market this stuff. I really don't know how mothers who don't nurse do it. I for one need those drugs daily.

Okay, this is the way it is described on breastfeeding.com. "Your baby's sucking stimulates nerve endings in the areolae, which send messages to your hypothalamus and pituitary gland (in your brain), causing them to start releasing oxytocin and prolactin, breastfeeding hormones that will begin to calm and relax you." Tell me that isn't cool?! Nature really knows what the hell she is doing!

So beyond the physical and emotional benefits- the bonding, the higher IQ points, the protection against allergies, asthma, eczema, gastroenteritis, ear infections, obesity and diabetes, and the antibodies which offer protection against tons of viruses- you also get the relaxation benefits too! I couldn't be happier.

So maybe the next time you hear someone say, "I need a drink" or "I need a vacation", you can tell them what they really need... to breastfeed! :)

Rainer's third granny - an apple named Smith!

2006-12-19T19:31:00.000-05:00

My son Rainer and I had a lovely morning together yesterday! We SHARED a granny smith apple! Nothing earth shattering or mind blowing... just apple sharing. It was very cute. After reading one of his books that has different kids dressed as adults in different professions, he flipped back to page two where the little "farmer" girl was eating an apple and smiled and pointed to her. Then he pointed at the apple and said "Yum" (a new word of his) and did this lip smacking sound that he does when he is hungry. I quickly got out a perfect organic granny smith apple and took a bite and made a sour face. This made him laugh and then he took it and bit into it and made HIS sour face and we both laughed. From then on he took bites and then held it for me to take bites while we read books and played. He shared this apple with me alternating bite for bite the whole time! When he would hold it for a long moment and forget about sharing, I would make MY lip smacking sound and he would give me more. It was simply the best! Might sound silly, but it really was.

Yesterday for the first time in a long while, I was just happy to be a mom and be home with him. I didn't need to be or do anything else. The dishes could stack up, the house could go to pot, and the emails stay unanswered. And I didn't feel the pressure I usually am surrounded by that tells me that I should be MORE than just a mom. That crazy voice that makes me feel as though I am not fully realizing some kind of potential or something. Yesterday, I could just enjoy him and enjoy the gift of being in the presence of this amazingly beautiful and open soul. What an important job I have! Raising a human being. I could just allow myself to feel happy and lucky and blessed to be with this child every day who teaches me so much. Will this feeling last? I don't know, but for now I have rediscovered that I am happy. I quess I always have been but just didn't allow myself to fully take it in and acknowledge it. As if I didn't have the right to be happy being 'just a mom." As I wrote that last line, Rainer blew a fart on my leg and laughed... guess that is my cue to go play again! Maybe this is how one gets their own childhood back.:-)

My son's one year birthday and reflections on the year

2006-12-12T17:31:00.000-05:00

I know this will sound cliche or predicable or whatever, but I simply can't believe that my son will be one year old on Friday. It seems as though just yesterday I was carrying him home from the hospital in a green and orange striped hospital blanket listening to the sound of his breathing.

My son Rainer is just more than I could have ever imagined. He is vibrant, inquisitive, bright, funny, soulful... and mine. Well, as much as he can be anyone's. He truly is his own person, body and soul. I had been thinking about the connection of belonging and children one day after hearing so many moms in my circle of mommy friends refer to "my son" or "my daughter." I was thinking are they ever truly ours? I wrote this poem after thinking about all of this as he was sleeping for the first night in his own room.

2:06 AM

you are asleep
in the new room
across the hall
miles from me
while I caress the
impossibly flat shell
my belly
as
the great moon of your face
rises inside
the pool of my eyes

the minute you were
formed
a germ
floating in the
cosmic ocean
of my womb
you were
not mine

floating freely
you developed into
an element of the world
a fragmented
promise of yourself
surfacing ever so
gradually
away
from me
your mother

my child:
the prickly truth of
your becoming-
you were part of me
yet
never really were.

4/26/06

Well, until next time...

2006-10-18T21:58:00.000-04:00

Getting started

2006-10-18T21:08:00.000-04:00

Well, I never thought I would want to have a blog but nevertheless, here I am in the Blogisphere! I am hoping this will be a place to keep far away friends of mine connected to my life, make business connections, share about upcoming creative events that I am involved in, and get out some of my ramblings... or should I call them "Muuss-ings?" So enjoy! I hope to hear from you all soon!