I'm Going Home

On the day I went away... goodbye...
Was all I had to say... now I...
I want to come again and stay... Oh my my...
Smile, and that will mean that I may

Cause I've seen blue skies, through the tears
In my eyes
And I realize.. I'm going home.

Everywhere it's been the same... feeling...
Like I'm outside in the rain... wheeling...
Free, to try and find a game... dealing...
Cards for sorrow, cards for pain

Cause I've seen blue skies through the tears
In my eyes
And I realize.. I'm going home.

I'm going home, I'm going home.

~ Recorded by Tim Curry from The Rocky Horror Picture Show

Dedicated to Gary Marq Baugh, with Love.

Happy

Should be happy to be loved
Happy to be
Unburdened by the thought
I could still be lonely
I think you’re the one
Everyone agrees
But some can see the face of love
And turn away in disbelief

Every time we get close
I just run
And the wind on my face
Last rays of the sun
Shine on my skin
My heart slow me down
Is all that I can feel
All that I can feel
All that I can feel
All that I can feel

Should be happy to be loved
Happy to be
With someone who knows
And understands me
I think you’re the one
Everyone agrees
But some can touch the hand of love
And pull away in disbelief

Every time we get close
I just run
And the wind on my face
Last rays of the sun
Shine on my skin
My heart slow me down
Is all that I can feel
All that I can feel
All that I can feel
All that I can feel

Should be happy to be loved
Happy to be
Possessed by nothing but
A heart that’s chosen freely
I think you’re the one
Everyone agrees
But some can feel the grace of love
And walk away in disbelief

Every time we get close
I just run
And the wind on my face
Last rays of the sun
Shine on my skin
My heart slow me down
Is all that I can feel
All that I can feel
All that I can feel
All that I can feel

All that I can feel
All that I can feel
All that I can feel
All that I can feel

Should be happy to be loved
Happy to be

Should be happy to be loved
Happy to be


'Happy' by Tracy Chapman

Learning The Art Of Being Still

Too often as we race about our day of work and taking care of the family, we forget what peace there is in silence. We become so used to everyday noise and constant motion that we become almost immune to it.
It becomes a part of our day and routine.
When was the last time you simply sat and were quiet and still?
Yes, I know...
"Who has the time for that?" you'd say.
But it is important to make time for not only does it give you immeasurable health benefits, being still also allows you to connect and hear not only your inner voice, but also the voices of your angels and spirit guides.

Meditation is a good way to start.

If you don't have time for meditation, try something simpler like sitting quiet for five minutes. I know, if you are used to running from project to project, solving problem after problem, sitting still for five minutes may seem like an impossible task.

But you can do it...

Simply find a place that is quiet and where you won't be interrupted, turn off the radio and TV and sit and be still. Make a ceremony of it, light some incense, burn some white candles (white candles are pure white light and draw the angels and spirit guides as well as loved ones who are no longer with us nearer to you) and make it a time simply for you.

Start with five minutes, if you don't make it, fine. Try for five minutes next time.
But keep trying. Once you've managed the art of being still, try to meditate and if you find that you can't stop your mind from wandering, then let it wander, for in the wandering come answers if we only pay attention. For some, a guided meditation tape may be helpful. If you are troubled by a problem or concern, pray to your angels for an answer. You may not get an answer right away but you will get one, if you just listen.

Be still, be quiet and listen...You'll be amazed at what answers will come.
Until Next time, My Dear Friends...


Love and Light to You All,
LizaBella

Thank You For The Magic

Whether you loved him or hated him, Michael Jackson was a dazzling force to be reckoned with on stage. Immensely gifted and talented, he entertained the world with his amazing dance moves and his music. We all know of his start in show business with his older brothers, 'The Jackson 5'. We know about the cartoons, merchandise and sold out concerts. We know about the plastic surgeries and the pet chimp 'Bubbles'. In fact, it seemed we knew everything about Michael...through the tabloids. Story upon story upon story...each becoming more and more bizarre.
Most of all, we knew his music...

But did we know the man?

When he died last year, I began to read about Michael Jackson; the man, the legend and the father and what I found out not only surprised me, but made me all the sadder because I had never gotten the chance to know him; as a friend and as a human being. And yes, I , like most others, judged him because of his appearance and his often bizarre behavior. I'm more than ashamed I did...

Of course, it's impossible to talk of Michael without bringing up the child molestation charges. When it first happened, because of who I am (an abuse survivor), I believed the media. But those who knew and loved Michael the best, his friends, family and his fans staunchly stood by his side in his defense.
I don't believe it now and as Michael once said in an interview, "I would rather cut off my arm than hurt a child." And knowing how Michael loved children,
I think that is true. Why? Because Michael was a child himself and he spoke their language. He was indeed a grown up 'Peter Pan'. He knew how to relate to children and he had unending compassion and empathy for those who were sick or ill.

But the accusations and humiliation that he suffered publicly before, during and after the final trial, in which he was found not guilty, was the blow that seemed to knock Michael to his knees and it seemed that he was never able to recover from it. Even then, his fans rallied behind him, in demonstrations in front of the courthouse to show their support. He became a different Michael then, a Michael who worried constantly about his children's safety and whose drug use escalated to the point where even those closest to him were worried. It is said that some time before his death, two members of his family attempted a intervention and it was discussed, but went no further.

I once watched a concert where he stopped everything so that a tech could take a bug off the stage so it wouldn't be crushed. And as the tech scooped up the bug and began walking away with it, Micheal's words could be heard ringing out, "Don't kill it...please don't kill it."

One of the things that hurt the most in regards to the media was
was all the propaganda regarding 'his love of children', making it seem dirty and perverted. That blow must have hurt Michael most of all. After it was all over, Michael vowed that NeverLand, the home that he had built for himself and was a virtual fairground for sick children, would never be home to him again and he moved his children to Paris.
Later he would move back to the states but he said often that it didn't feel like home because the house was so exposed and that he didn't feel safe.


That Michael was, most times, a sad and lonely person was a given. He had been lonely most of his life, which led him to be very shy and soft spoken in public. When he had his children, I believe that they were the force that kept him going, day after day as he went into a decline that would be impossible to pull out of.
I believed that he loved and adored his children and they, in turn, loved and adored him, because to them, he was simply 'Daddy'. Those closest to Michael say that he was an awesome father and an excellent dad. He took great care to shield, as any father would who was concerned for their child's safety, his children from media as much as he could.

It's impossible to know when Michael began to use sedatives to help him sleep.
Some have said that he used them for years (right after the album 'Thriller' was released) as well as other drugs to combat chronic insomnia as well as pain.
The end result, the unbearably tragic one is that because of too many doctors, too many medications and too many 'Yes' people, Michael Jackson's 'This Is It' comeback tour would not be seen until after his death and then only rehearsal clips.
Michael died of a sudden cardiac arrest due to an overdose of multiple medications, including one used for sedation during surgery. Charges against his doctor are pending.

His gifts amazed even the most seasoned of singers, dancers and actors and he befriended many, many of them.

After two failed marriages, it seemed Michael devoted his time to not only his children, but other children around the world who needed him, giving his name, time and money for children charities.

In the last years of his life, Michael seemed even more at loss with the world and
and with himself. The pain of his childhood, which he spoke of often, seemed to have a tighter hold on him and his drug use increased.

I'm very sad Michael is gone. He was man who was so child-like, at times he seemed like a child, instead of 'The King Of Pop'. Just a big kid who wanted to have fun, to laugh and maybe play like the kid that he was...the way he said he was never able to play as a child.

Good Bye Micheal...I wish I had known you. I'm sorry for the pain and loneliness you felt during this lifetime, but I thank you for the beautiful gifts you gave the world. I wish someone...just one person would have said 'No' to you and maybe you would be here today.

You will be greatly missed and never forgotten...

Now My Friend, you can really fly...

Until Next Time, My Dear Friends,
LadiofZen

Seeing the Faces of the Mentally Ill

The picture above of me isn't a pretty one but it is a true one. Snapped by my partner at a time when I was struggling with depression, it shows me looking my worst; without sleep and exhausted and looking back into a painful past. A hopeless exercise but one that those of us who struggle with mental illness will relate to.
I don't have one mental illness...I have several. And I am still standing...despite myself and my mental disorders.

How do you view the mentally ill? What do you think to yourself when you see 'a crazy person' on the street? Is it funny or curious to watch? Or do you think to yourself, as I do, 'But for the Grace of God, go I'?

Almost everyone has someone in their family or even someone they know who has struggled with mental illness. Statistics say that one in four adults over the age of eighteen or 25% of individuals will suffer a debilitating mental illness in their lifetime. Approximately 20.9 million American adults, or about 9.5 percent of the U.S. population age 18 and older in a given year, have a mood disorder and depressive disorders often co-occur with anxiety disorders and substance abuse.

Which brings me to Stephen. I first met Stephen when he was 16 after being brought home by my son Josh, as they went to high school together. Stephen became without any effort at all, 'my other son'. He began to eat meals at our home and became a constant fixture at our house and suffice to say, I love him dearly.

That he was a bit odd was a given. He was also funny, intelligent and very outgoing. And after all, he was a teenager and trying, as my son was, to find himself.
But there came a day when I could no longer ignore the fact the he absolutely refused to eat at home and so I sat him down, face to face and asked him why.
He told me calmly and without a blink of an eye that he thought his parents were trying to poison him. Shocked and upset, I tried to convince him otherwise, but it did no good. He believed what he believed...period. I also spoke with his mother who was aware of the problem but unsure how to deal with it. She told me that since his aunt's death who had resided with them, he had refused to eat anything that he had not bought and opened himself. His mother had also shared that Stephen had been the one to find his aunt deceased on the kitchen floor and that he had been traumatized by it.

That was the beginning...

When Stephen was 17, he went to a concert and to this day, no one, not even my son who is his closest friend, knows what happened because Stephen has never spoken of it, at least not to us. But something did happen and Stephen was forever changed.
He became reclusive to the point that he refused to leave the house at all or stay in contact with any of his friends. The daily visits to our house stopped and my son, Joshuea concerned and worried, tried to help by visiting and talking to find out what had occurred that had caused such a devastating change in his best friend. But Stephen wasn't talking...at least not to Josh.
He was speaking...to the voices in his head. In his early twenties, Stephen was diagnosed with schizophrenia.

The diagnosis was for me and for my son Joshuea, devastating, as I am sure it was a hundred times more so for his parents. He was put on medication which caused massive weight gain and as the years have gone by, his condition has deteriorated because Stephen refuses to take his medication due to the side effects.

The last time I saw Stephen, which was about a year ago, his mother had come to bring him for a visit. As I stood off at a distance speaking with his mother about his condition, which was worsening, I happened to glance up, concerned that he might overhear. As I looked over and my eyes met his, I watched his lips as they silently moved while he whispered to the voices in his head that no one else could hear and I knew that while his body may have been there, his mind was a million miles away.
I went over and hugged him and looking into his eyes, I told him how very much I loved him. I told him to always remember I was there for him and to never forget if he needed me, to call or get in touch with me any way he could.
I hope and I pray he heard me.

After they had gone, I went inside and sat down and wept...for 'my other son', Stephen, who had somehow gotten lost in a foreign land with no means to get back.

Stephen continues to live with his parents and his condition continues to deteriorate.

The next time you see someone who is acting strangely or a bit odd, think twice or better yet, how about thinking thrice? And while you are at it, do your best to really 'see' that person with compassion and empathy.
Please remember that mental illness takes no prisoners. It could be your best friend or it could be a member of your family...or it could be You.

We are all ONE...


Until next time My Dear Friends,

LadiofZen

Learning To Practice Forgiveness...For Yourself

Forgiveness is typically defined as the process of concluding resentment, indignation or anger as a result of a perceived offense, difference or mistake, and/or ceasing to demand punishment or restitution.[1] The Oxford English Dictionary defines forgiveness as 'to grant free pardon and to give up all claim on account of an offense or debt'.

Sounds pretty clear cut, doesn't it? Someone does you wrong and or you do someone wrong and you just let it go, right? Wrong...
For most of us, true forgiveness requires much effort, especially when we have been hurt in some way and resentment still lingers. We say we have forgiven them and we tell those who have asked that, "Oh yes, I have let that go".
But have you? Really?

Recently, I wrote a letter to someone who I had hurt some years ago. Because all I had an old address, I sent it to the old address in hopes it would be forwarded to her. I wanted to thank her and I wanted her to know how very much I appreciated her during the time we were friends. I had already asked her forgiveness many times as during the time I had been friends with her, I was very ill with bipolar disorder and as a result, my actions hurt her deeply but knowing her as I do, I do believe she forgave me.

The problem was...I hadn't forgiven myself. I still carried great guilt over the hurt I had caused. Yes, I was ill but that doesn't negate my actions and
I couldn't let go of the fact that I had wounded someone I had so cared about.
And I began to try and forgive myself. It wasn't easy and suffice to say that it took a great deal of reorganization of thinking. I had to honestly admit to myself what I had done and then begin to forgive myself for it.

Learning to forgive yourself for past mistakes is healing and healthy. We are all human and not a single one of us is perfect, although some of us may wish we were. Yes, I still make mistakes and because I am human, I always will. Just as you will...

But what I learned from my above mentioned friend, who was wise beyond her years and then some, the most important thing to remember when a mistake is made is to learn from it and if possible, try your best not to repeat it.

And for myself, I have learned the hard way that words hurt. They cut and they bruise and once they are spoken can never, ever be taken back. Yes, you may be forgiven but those words will always linger. So, STOP, THINK and PAUSE before you speak...most especially in anger or hurt. Because in the heat of things, the words you meant to say may come out totally different that you thought they might and irreparable damage could be done to a relationship that may mean a great deal to you.

Oh yes...and the letter to my friend? She never got it.
It was intercepted by one of her friends and I was informed of it.

And that's okay because I didn't expect a response and I didn't want one.
That letter was for her...but it was also for me. It was part of me 'forgiving myself' and closure to a very sad part of my life.
I'd like to think that what I wrote in that letter, she already knew.

And so, today I forgive myself for hurting you, my friend and I forgive you for hurting me.
And while I know you will never see this, its enough.
I did what I needed to do...for me.

Until next time My Dear Friends,

LadiofZen

The Agony of Long Goodbyes

I met my ex-husband Gary and the father of my 17 year old son, in 1989. My ex husband is an alcoholic and has been for over 30 years. And though I knew he drank when we met, the extent of his addiction to alcohol was not clear to me until a short time later. When I did realize it, I attempted to end the relationship. He promised me as he wept that that I was the most important thing in the world to him and he would stop drinking. He didn't.
Several months passed and again I decided to end the relationship and again he swore he would stop drinking. He didn't.
This happened more times than I care to admit here but finally there came a time when I simply could take it no longer and told him I was leaving him and why. He swore, as he had done so many times, that he would stop drinking and furthermore, to show he was serious, he would go into treatment to do it, which he did for thirty days.
He managed to stay sober for four months.

During one of our many arguments regarding his alcoholism, he swore if I gave him a son, he would never touch another drop, that he would never have a reason to because he would have everything he ever wanted; a woman who loved him and the son he had always dreamed of. I did...and so did he.

And later, I was told if I married him which I refused to do and in fact, had put off 3 different times by 'losing' the marriage license, he swore on his son's life that he would be a completely different person as well as a sober one.
He wasn't.

We divorced 8 months after our son was born. As the years passed and Gary's drinking grew worse, he began to fade from his son's life. Visits were few and far between and always colored by Gary's alcoholism. At first my son tried to keep in contact but after years of trying to remain close to his father and having no success, he simply gave up as his father drank on and on.

So it was with a great deal of sadness that I learned from his ex-fiancee last week that my ex husband is dying from throat and lung cancer. It wasn't a surprise as he smokes 3 packs of cigarettes a day as well as drinking everyday to excess but it was news that tightened my chest and brought tears to my eyes.
I had known that since his mother had died in 2003, that Gary's anchor in this life was gone and I had worried that his drinking would become uncontrollable. It did.

For the last several years, my son and I have literally watched as Gary has slowly, surely and with great deliberation, almost succeeded in drinking himself to death. And now after being warned over and over and over again to stop or at least slow down on his smoking, he has been diagnosed with throat and lung cancer.

This morning as I wept for my son, Jeff and for Gary, who always seemed at war with this world, I realized what agony long goodbyes are and that this had been a very long, very sad goodbye from a boy to his father and from a father to his son.

It mattered to me that Jeff might never get to say goodbye to his father in person before his death and it also mattered to me that Gary get the chance to say goodbye to his son. No, Gary would never, ever be the father that Jeff needed or wanted and now that Jeff was almost a man, he was able to accept that. It wasn't so easy for me. I had deep grief over the fact that Gary had chosen alcohol over his son as well as the pain his drinking had caused Jeff and I realized that I had to accept the situation and let go of the grief as well as the hope and dream that Gary would somehow wake up, realize what he had been doing all these many years and become that father my son had always wanted and needed. That was never going to happen and deep in my heart, I had always known. I needed to say goodbye for the last time.

And so, Goodbye Gary, Goodbye My Friend, for even through all the pain and bitterness, we were friends...Thank You for the gift of my son. Thank you for the times you made me laugh. Thank you...for just being You. I don't think you ever heard that before. I'm sorry for the pain you have endured all of your life. I'm sorry that the only way you chose to deal with it was with alcohol. Most of all, I'm so very sorry you missed your son growing up; for Jeff and for you.
I know you tried. He's turned out to be a hell of a man...You would be so very proud.

And to my son? I don't have to say much because my son and I have an unspoken understanding about his father. But I have said, "I'm so very very sorry, my son.
Life is not perfect and neither are people. Your father has an illness called alcoholism and it has affected his choices and so he has not always made the right ones...but he always loved YOU."

Until next time My Dear Friends,

LadiofZen

The Slow Death Of Empathy

Hugo Alfredo Tale-Yax, thirty one years of age and homeless probably didn't think that this day was going to be any different than any other day. He would be wrong...

Things began to go bad on that early Sunday morning on April 18th just after 5:30 a.m. on a Queens, N.Y., sidewalk.

On the surveillance camera, a woman is followed by a man who appears to be accosting her. Tale-Yax is seen walking towards the two in concern. What isn't seen is him being stabbed several times in the torso while trying to save the woman.

In seconds, the apparent attacker is caught by the surveillance camera running away. Authorities say the woman fled from her attacker.

Tale-Yax begins to chase the attacker but then collapses on the sidewalk.

A potential good Samaritan walks by and does nothing. So does the next person and the one after that. Over 20 people seem to notice a man hurt and bleeding on the sidewalk and do nothing.

Unbelievably, one man pulls out his cell phone, but instead of dialing 911, he takes a quick picture. Another man nudges Tale-Yax, rolls him over twice, seems to see blood, but then strolls away.

Tale-Yax lay there for nearly an hour and a half until someone called for help and at 7:23am, Firefighters arrived but it was too late for Tale-Yax, who because he saw someone in trouble and wanted to help, lay mortally injured and bleeding on the sidewalk.

Since some say that it is not unusual to see people passed out or sleeping in public in New York, some conclude it was 'just a mistake'. But others say New York isn't the first city where bystanders ignored an injured man.

Sadly, what was seen that April Sunday has been seen time and again.

In January in Seattle, a 15-year-old girl was brutally beaten unconscious and robbed by a group of teenagers while three security guards stood by and and did nothing.

In Hartford, Conn., a 78-year-old man was hit by a car as he crossed a street in 2008. The driver did not stop and 10 vehicles ( yes, you read that right...10 ) drove by as he laid in the middle of the road, bleeding from the head and injured, waiting for help.
And in 2003 in Washington, D.C., a man was shot at a gas station. Instead of calling for help, the witness finished pumping kerosene into a can, paid and drove off.

Teaching our children the importance and value of compassion and empathy is just as, if not more important, than 30 or 40 years ago. Exposing our kids to new and different people and situations through community service and helping them to understand and think critically about the media such as the incident in New York is so very important.

No one who passed Tale-Yax that day had to be a hero. They didn't have to jump into the fight. They didn't have to endanger themselves.
All they had to do...was dial 911.

Hugo Alfredo Tale-Yax, when he saw a woman in danger, chose to help and because of his courage and compassion, he died.

R.I.P. Hugo...I'm so very sorry no one helped you that day in April. Thank you for your courage, empathy and compassion.
Rest now, my friend, you did well...

Until next time, My Dear Friends...

Love and Light To All,
LadiofZen

Going For The Buzz ... Is It Really Worth It?

I have a bit of experience with alcohol and alcoholics. Born to parents who were addicted to alcohol as well as prescription drugs, I am no stranger to addiction. My ex-husband died of alcoholism.
Not to mention I am a recovering alcoholic and addict myself. I began drinking as a teenager and continued as an adult until one fateful day in 2000. On a staggeringly hot July day in Texas, I had a grand mal seizure in a swimming pool ... because I was so intoxicated. I was taken to the ER and my family was called and told that I had drowned and would not last the night. I woke five hours later, to everyone's astonishment, apparently none the worse for wear. But the message had been received. I had to stop drinking or end up dead.
I chose to live. And that was the end of my drinking.

I now consider alcohol to be as potentially dangerous and deadly as a lot of street drugs that are being sold and bartered. Alcohol destroys your health, your life and your relationships. The World Health Organization estimated in 2002 that globally 1.8 million people's deaths every year are directly attributable to consumption of alcohol. The death rate in the USA for Cirrhosis of the liver: 26,050 per year, 2,170 per month, 500 per week, 71 per day, 2 per hour, 0 per minute, 0 per second.
("cirrhosis" (Digestive diseases in the United States: Epidemiology and Impact – NIH Publication No. 94-1447, NIDDK, 1994)

And alcohol has been shown to be as addictive as morphine. The recovery rate for an alcoholic is 2%. Alcoholism is a worldwide epidemic due, I believe because it is so inexpensive and so easy to get. ?

I've known many, many people who chose alcohol as their drug of choice and whose lives were literally destroyed and I have to say it is one of the more unglamorous ways to 'chill'. There is no one more unattractive or more obnoxious than someone who is insanely drunk.
You won't find anyone who will tell you that you are a 'vision of loveliness' with bleary eyes, reeking of alcohol fumes and wearing rumpled clothes, much less with flecks of vomit on you because you decided you had to have to have that last drink, irregardless of the fact that you already had 'one' too many.

Liston to some advice, PLEASE from someone who REALLY knows...
If you drink ... STOP. If that means going to AA, seeing a physician or going in for detox, DO IT. BE BRAVE and SAVE Yourself. Do whatever You need to do to stop drinking alcohol. Yes, it is hard. One of the most difficult and tortuous things you will ever attempt. But believe me when I tell you that it will also be one of the greatest things you can do in your life for yourself, your family and your friends.
Never ever doubt the enormity of the impact your drinking causes to every single person even remotely connected with you and how immense the change will be when you take the courageous step to live your life without alcohol; for you, your family and your friends.

And if you are a friend of someone with a drinking problem, you can only do so much. You cannot make them stop drinking. But you can support and love your friend.
Don't be afraid to take a firm stand in regards to what you are willing to tolerate; "Listen, I love you but I do not love alcohol or the way it affects you. If our friendship is as important to you as it is to me, you will respect my request not to be around me if you are drinking or intoxicated."
And then stick to it and be firm.

The rest is up to your friend...

Until next time...

Love and Light To All,
LadiofZen


Some statistics on alcohol abuse from http://www.about-alcohol-abuse.com/

*
According to alcohol abuse and alcoholism facts uncovered by alcohol research, American youth who drinking before the of age 15 are four times more likely to image: doctor holding hand of alcohol abuser become alcoholics than young people who do not drink before the age of 21. This statistic focuses on the importance of drinking at a later rather than at an earlier age. This statistics also points out very clearly how abuse and alcohol go together, even for teenagers.

* The 25.9% of underage drinkers who are alcohol abusers and alcohol dependent drink 47.3% of the alcohol that is consumed by all underage drinkers.

* Every day in the U.S. more than 13,000 children and teens take their first drink. Among other things, this means that many of these teens will understand first hand the relationship between abuse and alcohol.

* Every year, 1,400 American college students between the ages of 18 and 24 die from alcohol-related accidents and injuries, including motor vehicle accidents. Traffic fatalities, perhaps more than any other statistics, point out the devastating realities that often result from alcohol abuse and alcoholism.

* image: college couple drinking beer on vacation In the United States during 2004, 16,694 deaths occurred as a result of alcohol-related motor-vehicle crashes. This amount was approximately 39% of all traffic fatalities. This amounts to one alcohol-related death every 31 minutes. This statistic, quite honestly, is overwhelming. Talk about abuse and alcohol---one alcohol related traffic fatality every 31 minutes and the grief and devastation suffered from these deaths is beyond comprehension.

* Here's one of the alcohol abuse and alcoholism facts and an alcohol statistic that though logical, is something that most drinkers and non-drinkers probably do not know: The 9.6% of adult alcoholics drink 25% of the alcohol that is consumed by all adult drinkers.

* Every year in the U.S. more than 150,000 college students develop health problems that are alcohol-related. This is additional evidence that alcohol abuse and alcoholism, unfortunately, are intimately interrelated to one another.

* Alcohol abuse and alcoholism cost the United States an estimated $220 billion in 2005. This dollar amount was more than the cost associated with cancer ($196 billion) and obesity ($133 billion). Though dollar amounts like this are hard to comprehend, at least they make an attempt at placing a dollar value on the relationship of abuse and alcohol.

One Step Closer to the Humanity of Equality

President Obama is slowly restoring my faith in him. With his extension of health care right's to gay partners, I have breathed more than one sigh of gratefulness and relief on behalf of all LGBT couples, myself and my partner included.

I wish desperately that it could have been much earlier for Clay and Harold, an elderly gay couple that resided in California. Their story is so horribly tragic that is shows without question why the war for equal rights for all LBGT and their partners is so vitally important.

Harold and Clay had been together 20 years. This is their story as taken from Dan Savage of SLOG News and Arts:

Clay and his partner of 20 years, Harold, lived in California. Clay and Harold made diligent efforts to protect their legal rights, and had their legal paperwork in place—wills, powers of attorney, and medical directives, all naming each other. Harold was 88 years old and in frail medical condition, but still living at home with Clay, 77, who was in good health.

One evening, Harold fell down the front steps of their home and was taken to the hospital. Based on their medical directives alone, Clay should have been consulted in Harold’s care from the first moment. Tragically, county and health care workers instead refused to allow Clay to see Harold in the hospital. The county then ultimately went one step further by isolating the couple from each other, placing the men in separate nursing homes. Ignoring Clay’s significant role in Harold’s life, the county continued to treat Harold like he had no family and went to court seeking the power to make financial decisions on his behalf. Outrageously, the county represented to the judge that Clay was merely Harold’s “roommate.” The court denied their efforts, but did grant the county limited access to one of Harold’s bank accounts to pay for his care.

What happened next is even more chilling: without authority, without determining the value of Clay and Harold’s possessions accumulated over the course of their 20 years together or making any effort to determine which items belonged to whom, the county took everything Harold and Clay owned and auctioned off all of their belongings. Adding further insult to grave injury, the county removed Clay from his home and confined him to a nursing home against his will. The county workers then terminated Clay and Harold's lease and surrendered the home they had shared for many years to the landlord.

Three months after he was hospitalized, Harold died in the nursing home. Because of the county’s actions, Clay missed the final months he should have had with his partner of 20 years. Compounding this tragedy, Clay has literally nothing left of the home he had shared with Harold or the life he was living up until the day that Harold fell, because he has been unable to recover any of his property.

Clay is now suing the county, the auction company, and the nursing home. This story should get as much attention as Constance McMillen's story. More attention. There should be protests outside the hospital and county administration buildings. And I think another phone call from the president is called for.

This story is heart-wrenching in the extreme. And sadly, this story has happened over and over and over again to gay and lesbian couples because their rights were not recognized. Basic rights that every human being should have ... irregardless of race, color or creed ... or sexual orientation.

Thank you to President Obama, on behalf of all of us.
And to Clay? I am so deeply, deeply sorry for the heartache and injustice that you and Harold were forced to endure simply because you were both so very courageous enough to love one another. God Bless You and keep you safe.

Equality, Justice and Compassion. Because We Are All One...

Until next time...

Love and Light To You All,
LadiofZen

Love Or Something Like It

...Just a question about Love? Ready? Okay, here's one; when you are in the throes of Love, do you think how wonderful it is that you are loved or are you more in awe of who you love?

Not an easy question for most of us. We all become so caught up in what Love is supposed to be, we forget how to enjoy what it is. Contrary to popular belief, music doesn't just break out in thundering soundtrack when you about to share your first kiss or have your first intimate moment.

Love is quieter, discreet, private. Don't get me wrong. I am all for passion. Passion is what keeps out hearts beating and our blood flowing and there is no greater fan of passion than I.

But the moments that mean the most between my partner and I are the quiet simple moments. Those times when you happen to glance up and catch your lover's eye across the room and you know without a doubt what she was thinking by the curve of the smile on her face and the tenderness in her eyes. Or the way she touches you in a simple , gesture of affection and you can feel her wanting of you through her fingertips, or the simple way she runs her hands through your hair absentmindedly...
The feelings that those moments cause are warm, safe ,rich and full of tenderness.

What love isn't is Obsession: an unhealthy and compulsive preoccupation with something or someone. And I have to admit, I have been obsessed with someone just as someone has been obsessed with me. It isn't pretty or healthy and is very very painful from my experience.

Just because you believe you love that 'special someone' and want 'that someone' to love you, because you feel you would be perfect together, because you believe yourself to have found 'the love of your life' doesn't mean just because YOU feel that way, that THEY do. It doesn't mean you will end up together as a couple and if the other party doesn't share your feelings, you run the chance of becoming not only someone who makes them very uncomfortable and want to avoid, but also an annoyance, as well as the pain it will cause both of you. Yes, it hurts...a lot. And yes, sometimes it feels as though you will never get over that person that you are so enthralled with. But you will, I survived and so will you.

Love or Obsession? Learn the difference because the difference will astound you...
Now that you know what Love isn't, go find a beautiful person to love and practice what Love IS...

Until Next time, My Dear Friends...

Light and Love To All,
LadiofZen

I Believe ...

... That everything happens for a reason, from the good to the bad. So with that being said, I have to admit that I am in love. I have only loved like this once before in my life and that ended tragically. I made many mistakes with that relationship and I am determined not to make the same ones with this very new relationship.

Because I have Bipolar Disorder, and am an adult survivor of abuse as well as having come from a very dysfunctional family, relationships take much more work for me than the average person.
I have to constantly remind myself to trust. To stand still while my lover begins to know me inside and out. And to allow myself the joy of feeling loved and loving in return.
Is it easy? Yes and no. Yes because I so adore this special person in my life and no because I have to address knee jerk reactions that come up for me frequently and process them to avoid certain reactions that could cause misunderstandings between myself and my partner.

And while I have shared very important issues such as my medical disorders, the fact that I take three daily medications to control it and that I have to see a psychiatrist every month, there are certain issues regarding my past trauma and my childhood that I have not shared yet but when the time is right, I will because I know now that it is important to do so to establish emotional intimacy and trust. I used to believe that sharing my abuse and trauma would cause too much distress and so I chose not to share with anyone. I kept that part of myself private and closed off, resolutely refusing to share with anyone that chose to come into my life.

And then came K who taught me that if your partner truly loves you, she will gladly carry your burdens along with her own because you would do the same for her. That sharing your mind is just as important as sharing your body, if not more so. And that allowing yourself to be loved is vital to being loved.

So Thank you K...for the gifts you gave me. I couldn't see them then in the haze of my grief but I see them them now in all their glory and I am so grateful to you from the bottom of my heart for your strength and compassion in loving me. You taught me so much. And I so dearly wish I could have understood then what I understand now. But know that I cherish you and your gifts with all of my heart.

And while I could not understand why we both had to go through what we went through together then,
maybe I do now. Because maybe the gifts you gave me were meant for the love I am with now.
Thank you GG for your unending patience and compassion. Thank you Bren for being my sister, in heart and soul.

And to my new love? And you know who you are. Be patient with me and I know that you will, as I strive to love you and allow myself to be loved by you. Know that one day I will share everything with you, I promise...

Love...ain't it grand?

Until next time, My Dear Friends...

Love and Light To You All,
LadiofZen

In Praise Of Eccentricity

I am an eccentric. Yes, I admit it. In fact, I love that my friends consider me unique, if a little different at times. And I have to say that most celebrate that trait about me.
A definition of eccentric : a person with an unusual or odd personality
bizarre: conspicuously or grossly unconventional or unusual;
character: a person of a specified kind (usually with many eccentricities); "a real character"; "a strange character"; "a friendly eccentric"; "the capable type"; "a mental case"
not having a common center; not concentric; "eccentric circles"

Being an eccentric, I love the unusual, the different or the extreme. And I love other eccentrics as well. It's as though we speak the same language and we celebrate each other's eccentricities
and character. I'm not sure if I was born eccentric or just became one but I am definitely not of the norm. And I've come to learn that a lot of people who suffer from Bipolar Disorder are considered eccentric to their families and friends as well.

My son Joshuea is a perfect example of an eccentric. As a child, he had very few friends and most children considered him odd. The fact that he had a genius IQ didn't help. In fact, it hurt.
He wasn't into sports or school activities. He read...a lot. And what he read, he remembered.
And it wasn't just that. He read everything he could get his hands on. When he was sixteen, he asked for a Fender Stratacaster guitar for Christmas and then proceeded to teach himself to play guitar by ear and to play so well, it became clear he was musically gifted. When he turned seventeen, suddenly he had a huge following of friends who considered him a guru of sorts. They came to him for answers to their problems, they asked his advice and deferred to his judgment. And they celebrated his uniqueness. And it seemed that overnight, he not only belonged, he was cherished. The years of being an outsider were gone. He became an amazing musician and formed a band and began to play clubs. He also began to write screenplays.

And even though I am blessed enough in my life to have family and friends who celebrate the unique and quirky person that I am, I know that there are other eccentrics in the world who are not lucky enough to have someone in their life to not only accept them just as they are but relish the uniqueness of their character. And that, to me is very sad. Because most, if not all eccentrics are brilliant and gifted as well as very creative and artistic. Some are wonderful poets and writers, some are musicians, others are artists. There are eccentrics in the field of medicine, science and yes, even politics.

Some eccentrics have made a major impact on the world because of their unique ability and bravery to step outside the box and view the world with a different eye. Examples such as Einstein, Dr. Patch Adams, John Lennon as well as Sigmund Freud. And they have done it because of the strength of their belief in themselves and their convictions and worried not a whit about who it offended or what people said. All because of who they were. Because they were eccentric. Because they were unique...

So I say raise your glass, bong or pipe to the eccentric. Celebrate being unique, quirky and different. And if your an eccentric, I say Welcome, My Friend to a Very Elite Club. The Club of Eccentricity. Cherish yourself and the other eccentrics in your life because you will be the ones that can and will change the world...

Until Next Time, My Dear Friends...

Love and Light To You All,
LadiofZen

Chelsea King

Chelsea King, as most of you have heard on the news, disappeared after going for a jog in a San Diego park. While family and friends worried and and thousands of friends and volunteers searched, many wondered and worried what had happened to the seventeen year old Chelsea.
Her car was found in the park with car keys and cell phone inside.
Chelsea King was young, beautiful and an honor student at her high school. Thousands of people who had joined the search, then mourned the Poway High School honor student at a candlelight vigil Tuesday night.

Brent King thanked supporters on the lawn of St. Michael's Church in Poway.

"She's my angel forever," he said.

Five days after her disappearance, her body was found in a shallow lakeside grave in the very park where she had vanished. Thirty year old John Albert Gardner III has been arrested and charged with her death and rape or attempted rape. Gardner is a convicted sex offender who served five years of a six year prison term for molesting a thirteen year old girl in 2000 and is also suspected of a December attack on another female.

Chelsea's death was horrible and sickening in the extreme because it did not have to happen.
How long before the law and courts understand that sex offenders cannot be rehabilitated?
How many more women will we lose this year? Next year? And the year after?

Chelsea's life, so full of promise, was cut short in the most beastly way by a man who should have never been let out of prison in the first place. An animal of a man who preys upon women and who will always prey upon women. It's in his brain, part of his nature and who he is. A beast...
You cannot change that. You can only lock the beast up and away so that he doesn't harm anyone else. Or you put him down.

I pray he gets put down....

RIP Dear Chelsea and know that we mourn your loss, your beauty and your life of promise.
God Rest your soul...

Until next time,

Love and Light to You All,
LadiofZen

Finding My Father

I lost my father at the very young age of seven and throughout my life, I have longed for a father figure in my life. Psychiatrists say that fathers are very important for a young girl's development into a woman and the type of father she has will shape her future relationships with the men in her life. And the same with mothers and sons.

As I became a young woman, I found myself drawn to older men, not in a sexual way but in a way that mystified me because I didn't understand it. But drawn I was; to my much older boss, my college professor, the next door neighbor. It wasn't until I was much older and had gotten divorced from my first husband that I came to realize why I was so drawn to older men and what a true father was.

My ex father-in-law was the complete opposite of my real father; steady, reliable and dependable. I had never known what a father was as my real fyather was not equipped to be there for me as a child. And so after searching my whole life for a father figure, my ex father-in-law stepped in and became the father I had never really known.

Edward was Polish, had a heart of gold and had been a cook in the Navy for over twenty years. After his stint in the navy, he worked at an auto salvage yard and hardly ever missed a day of work. Many were the nights we would have long conversations that lasted hours on the deck. The convesations were wide and varied ranging from how the brain worked to his memory at the age of four of people being loaded onto trains by the Germans to the vastness of the solar system to the reality of Angels. We became very close.
He supported me and my decisions but never hesitated to tell me his opinion if he didn't agree with something. He told me often what a good mother I was, how intelligent I was, how he admired how I carried myself. His compliments to many were few and far between so when he made one to me, I was extremely touched and proud and took it straight to my heart because I knew he meant it sincerely.
And I respected him because of the man he was. He was there for his family and made sure they were taken care of. And I began to love and adore this gruff old man and to think of him as as my father and he often told me that he loved me and that I was his daughter. Every morning I would stop by before work and have coffee with him before we started our day and it seems that we never ran out of things to talk about. I often asked his opinion on many things and he would give it honestly and sincerely. And I always followed his advice.

And so, my search for a father came to an end and I had the father in my life I had always longed for...for six years until a massive heart attack took his life. And I lost a father once again, only this time, I felt as though I would die from the grief. I had lost the only real father I had ever known and it was an unbearable loss for me. It took years to get over and I still miss his presence in my life profoundly. I like to think that Edward watches over me and that comforts me and governs my behavior to a great degree.

I raised both my sons without their father's presence in their lives and while it causes me sadness I cannot begin to describe, somehow I feel when the time is right, Edward will send someone to be a father figure to both my sons and hopefully it will be a wonderful man just like he was.

Because what I've learned is it is never too late to find a father and it's never too late to be a father. And as a therapist once told me, "If you can't live with the family you have, then you make your own family."

I Love You, Edward...Thank you for being my father and allowing me to be your daughter.
You couldn't have given me a greater gift...

Until next time...

Love and Light To All,
LadiofZen

The World As I See It...

The vision of the world has changed vastly for me through the years.

There have been times when I saw no light, no hope, no me.

I spent my time looking back at hurtful times and regretting decisions that I had made either by my own choice or because I had no choice at all. Resentments set heavy in my chest because of the mental illness I had inherited from my parents. I felt sadness and loss as heavy as though the feelings were a thick cloak I wore around my shoulders. And I grieved for the person I was and the person I could have been.

Those days thankfully, for the most part, are over. I'm grateful for so much these days that is hardly seems worth the time to look back with regrets. Don't get me wrong, I still do sometimes as we all do but it is a rarity  and not nearly with as much sadness. I understand much more than I used to about life and how easily we can get locked into viewing only the bad and forgetting the good stands right beside awaiting a glance, an acknowledgement that it does indeed exist.

My sons are a such a joy to me on a constant daily basis that the old pain of not having ten children and living in a shoe, seem irrelevant.

I have wonderful friends that I love dearly.

Not to mention a dog the size of a horse who is the smartest and gentlest of any creature I have ever known and three cats with their own distinct personalities. My sons, my friends, my dog and my cats...they are my family.

And though I'm not living as exactly as I would like, I realize that your life is what you make it. 

I never believed that old saying. I never believed that you could have any power over your life.

I do now. I know now that everything is a choice from getting up in the morning to living your life with joy, hope and love. I understand that truth is most important and that honesty is always the best policy, although at times it may seem difficult in this 'graceless age'.

And that laughter is indeed very good for the soul.

And I know that I am much stronger than I ever believed I could be, that I am intelligent and that I have gifts no one else has. Am I being conceited? No, I am believing in my self and there is a difference.

And I am unbelievably grateful for the people that have come into my life. Some have stayed and are with me still, some have stayed awhile and moved on and some were only with me for a moment but all of them, every single one, taught me something and left me with a gift

.

And so, I guess my message to you would be that 'Choice' is or should be one of the most important words in your vocabulary because it determines not only who you are but who you can be.

Someone who loves and is loved, who lives with joy, wonder and hope and believes that anything is possible. Because, you know what? 

Anything is...

Until next time, My Friends...

Light and Love To You,

Ladiof Zen

The Glories of Friendship

“A friend is someone who understands your past, believes in your future, and accepts you just the way you are.” Anonymous

Friends are essential to be healthy and well rounded. We all need friends, every single one of us and I have had different types of friends in every stage of my life. In my teenage years, my friends were, like me, in a stage of rebellion and so we rebelled with drugs, alcohol and rock and roll as well as no holds barred behavior. In my twenties and thirties, because I had a child, my friends were most often other mothers who had children and shared interests. Now as my youngest son approaches eighteen and is almost grown, my friends have changed once again.

Of course, there are the special friends, the ones you've known almost your whole life, like Cher who I've known since I was thirteen and who I babysat and diapered and our friendship is over thirty five years old.

I love Cher dearly and she is like a daughter to me.

Jodi is a friend who is intelligent, gifted and so extremely funny that she will invariably cause me to laugh out loud frequently. She is also supportive, loving and thoughtful.

And there is Sue, who no matter how much time elapses between long distance phone calls, the conversation seems to pick up right where it left off from the previous phone call and with the conversation always ending with 'I love you'.

Carol knows me inside and out, celebrates the quirky person that I am and who loves me anyway.

She is the type of friend who will offer to drive forty miles to take me to the doctor or bring me 'get well' food when I am sick, keeps my secrets close to her heart and who I can tell anything to.

Carol is one of my dearest friends and because I know I can trust her with anything, she knows more about me than almost anyone. She never judges, is always there for me and I can always rely on her to answer a question with honesty.

There are many, many others who have touched my heart but these are the four that stand out at the moment. I am so grateful for their friendship and I'd like to think that I am as good a friend to them as they are to me. Friendship isn't a one way street. You have to be a good friend to have a good friend. It's as simple as that.

When my beloved mother passed away a few months ago, I was touched and surprised at how many people sent their condolences but it was Carol, Caz and Jodi who were there standing by my side as I struggled to face the loss of a parent. As depression overwhelmed me, these woman stood steadfastly at my side, offering support and love and yet giving me enough room to grieve. That is a true friend and a great gift...

Since I have become older and hopefully wiser, my choices for friends have become much more selective in terms of what I can offer a friend and what they can offer me. I know that I don't have room in my life for someone who chooses to remain stuck or mired in their own misery. That is a choice and if you choose that, I won't be by your side, stuck in the mire with you. That isn't to say I won't gladly carry your burdens along with my own because I will just as I know you will carry mine but living joyfully and in the present is also a choice and the type of person that I choose to surround myself with. Nor will I be embroiled in drama. Life is simply too short and there are too many other things I would rather be doing than acting as a bit player in the 'great play' of your life.

Friends are a gift that we give ourselves and my friends are indeed gifts to be celebrated and cherished.

I am more grateful than they will ever know that they have chosen to be part of my life.

My life is all the richer because of them.

Friends...what would life be without them?

Until next time...

Love and Light To You All,

LadiofZen

Hated (1994)

Hated is a documentary by Todd Phillips of the life of legendary punk rock musician, GG Allin and a more disgusting or disturbing man you will most likely, never know. Utterly and completely insane; he was as crude and violent, as unpleasant and untalented a musician as a person could possibly be.

His behavior was so utterly obscene, it was not even to be believed by the most hard core of punk rockers.  One of his favorite things to do on stage was to urinate and defaecate and then eat his own feces and drink his own urine. Yes, you read that right. He also hurled it at the audience.

He was so violent and so devoid of human empathy, it is said had he not been a musician, he most easily could have been a serial killer. He was known for assaulting his own audience and more often than not, he was beaten up or arrested before his shows even began.

His shows usually ended with him naked and covered in blood after gouging and cutting himself and  members of the audience were always encouraged to perform oral sex on him.

It was often said that attending one of his shows was like going to a freak show.

His behavior often overshadowed his music which was by many standards, raw and forgettable .

Although he did have a cult following, local critics and police were so enraged by his antics, it landed him in jail no less than 50 times.

His personal life was just as disturbing. Often thought to have severe mental disorders which were made, no doubt much worse by his acute addiction to drugs and alcohol, in 1989 he was was arrested for the torture and rape of a woman in Michigan. He was accused of burning, cutting and raping the woman as well as forcing her to drink blood and Allin denied all charges, insisting that it was mutual and consensual, and surprisingly to a degree, the judge agreed and reduced the charges to felony assault and Allin served about a year and a half in prison.

Allin's life ended as memorably as he had lived it. On the night of June 27, 1993, he went onstage at a club in New York City. Two songs in, the power went out and Allin sailed into the crowd where he proceeded to destroy anything in the club that he could get his hands on. Allin went out into the streets, naked and covered in blood and feces and so did the crowd as Allin attempted to embrace his fans who were reveling in the street. Allin ended up at a friend’s apartment where he died of a heroin overdose in the early hours of June 28. Although dead, his partying friends continued to pose with him and take pictures until one of them realized something was not quite right and called the paramedics. Allin was pronounced dead at the scene. He was 36.

The photo above shows Allin lying in his coffin. He is dressed in a jacket and jock strap.

Todd Phillips documentary on the man is nothing short of brilliant. It does not judge the man or his music, but documents a phenomenon. Phillips looks at GG with unflinching honesty and does not sugarcoat the reality of a most disturbed individual who continuously lashed out at the world around him.

If you like documentaries and are interested in how they SHOULD be done, you should honestly check out Hated, which is a serious and honest look at the psychopathology of the insanity of a lone outsider, but be warned: it is graphic.

Until next time...

Love and Light To All,

LadiofZen

Laughter...

 

I love to laugh. I mean, really laugh. People and friends have told me that when I laugh, it is rich and full and from the belly. And I love persons who can make me laugh, in spite of myself. Make me laugh and you have a friend for life. I'm an extrovert and so outgoing, that I find a grin or a chuckle almost everywhere I go and with everyone I meet. Many is the time I have been speaking with someone in person, online or on the phone and laughed out loud in sheer delight at what was said.

I can't help it...I love to laugh.

Which is a good trade off for when I cycle down and things don't seem so funny anymore. Then it's an effort to simply get through the day, to do the necessary things that need to be done for my sons and for the house. I was born with this disorder, although there is some debate on whether I was born with this disorder or this disorder was caused by events that occurred in my childhood. But no one, not even physicians are certain or for sure. As years passed and I began to try to learn about this illness, one of the first things I discovered was how to be pro-active in terms of my own medical care.

I googled medications and learned about their effectiveness and side effects. If I found a medication that I believed might make a difference, I brought it up to my doctor and we would discuss it and make a decision on whether it would be helpful for me. But medication can only do so much. I also realized that therapy would be helpful in getting past the trauma I experienced and so for five years, I faced the past, sometimes flinching and sometimes with anger and tears but I faced it and got to the other side.

The rest, I found, was up to me and that is when I began exploring different avenues to help myself to lead a fuller and happier life. My disorder is only a very small part of who I am, not the sum of who I am.

 I began to study meditation and now meditate for and hour and a half a day. I make an effort to get enough sleep. I work out every day. I make sure that I always have medication on hand and try to be very conscientious on when it is to be refilled. I eat healthy.

And...I laugh. A Lot...

What is the old saying?

"Laughter is the best medicine".

And you know what? I really believe it's true...

Smile, grin or laugh...for any reason or for no reason.

It makes the day unbelievably bright...

Until next time, My Friends...

Love and Light,

LadiofZen