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