my left foot

Strange days indeed.

it's been so long since my last post, and so much to write.
Where do I begin?

I will start by going backwards.

Tried to ramp up the CBT the other day because i need to preach what I'm practicing...


Spoke to a friend about her crumbling marriage. Telling her to try to keep positive. That there is never rain 365 days a year. That the sun always breaks through the clouds. That for the most part, 98% of the population are not 100% evil, and that her husband has an addiction. Even if that addiction is to his "other woman" who he can't stop texting for even a moment.

While on the phone with me, she and her hubby were texting. There was some funny banter back and fourth and I was privy to the play by play.

"I said something about wanting to fondle his elbow"
(because as per the marriage therapist, they were supposed to work on "touching and reconnecting")

text back - my elbow?
text - i mean your foot. I love how uneven your toes are on your left foot.
text back - it's my right...

"What the hell does that mean? Was that meant for me? Is he texting his friend and thought it was me saying : "it's his right to see his child during a separation" !?"

"Holy crap girl! Your mind is like a rabid monkey spinning around in your head! How can you be sure that is what he is REALLY saying?"

"Well, it must be! I think i should call my lawyer tomorrow..."

"Why don't you just ask him what he means?"

text - what?
text back - it's my right foot...

We both laughed.

"See my dear, it's only about his right foot! See how the mind went into overdrive and began to fill in all the cracks of the rest of the sentence? Attaching meaning to where there was none?!"

And we laughed and laughed. I poked fun at the situation by telling her about the famous intro to the Monty Python film with the big foot coming down and squishing everything. The visual was hysterical. And at the same time - poignant. How the mind will overcompensate for a lack of information by blowing things out of proportion - a huge foot stomping on everything. People, flowers, musical notes.

A gargantuan foot - splayed toes and all...

"my mind is just running around lighting everything on fire. I can't stop it.'

"yes you can, it just takes work; but obsessive tendencies are part of our pedigree. Great grandmother, grandmother, your mother, my mother were all struggling with some form of depression. I'm bipolar. The black sheep crazy of the family, but obsessive/compulsive behavior is a part of that. it's all under the umbrella of mental illness in its varying degrees."

"well, i must be OCD then. I just keep on digging this obsessive grave deeper and deeper until I can't get out and get suffocated by these fucken thoughts."

I tried to explain my techniques: listing all the thoughts, the % of how much i believe each thought, exaggerate the worst case scenario and how much I believe that, what i know to be true, the grade of anxiety from 1-10 (at the beginning and at the end of the exercise). I extolled the virtues of finding my "touchstones" - things that make me happy and shift my thinking just by doing/watching/listening.

We were both impressed with my logic and clarity.
I'm proud that I have some of those moments sometimes.

After four and a half hours of Wayne Dyer-izing, CBT-ating and Zen-atilitaing, she was calm and at peace, and happily, so was I.


Today changed that mood.

An email: the whole time he was texting me, he was texting her! NOW WHAT DO I DO?!?!

What do you do? What can be told to someone who is living with and loving a person that has an obsessive compulsion?

I feel horrible for having given sound advice.
I feel like a flake, fake, and bullshitter for having believed my own advice. For allowing myself to try to "think well".

And as I type this, I can hear the monkey in my mind getting restless. Sharp utensils are within its reach. The once peaceful room is getting cluttered with negative images, words and scenarios. How do I tame this beast?

Scratch its belly. Keep it happy.

I try to smile, underneath my skin pulled taut over muscle twitching confusion...

nothing to lose...

nothing to lose...

I stumbled across this gallery during a blind search. I have no clue why i was so taken by this place, or what compelled me to write to them. It's now 4am. The fatigue has passed, but the itching feeling that something is about to happen is ripe in my gut. Movement. Progress. Forward propulsion. New directions in my art and the people who will see it.

Scary as all hell, but exciting as the shits...

So my email to them...
(and finally, to bed...)


As with many of my creative endeavors, my writings, as well as my photography, seem to evolve late at night, in the midst of a chaotic whirlwind of mental activity, verging on the precipice of panic and elation. So it is with much emotion and passion that I write this message to you.

My name is hpk and I am a self portrait specialist. I came across your gallery listing while updating my profile on artween.com. It was not too long ago that a gallery owner in New York City once told me that Berlin was the New York of the 21st century, and that my work would be much more appreciated across the ocean than it is in my own country. Hence, my late night web research into the European market. Perhaps it was fate that yours was the first gallery I stumbled upon during my blind search.

As an artist, i strive to translate my visions, emotions, creations into a universal language, stripped bare of trivialities, exposing the vulnerabilities of the human mind and soul. Each piece is a labor of love, and with each shutter click, a part of myself becomes infused with the final image.

As a photographer, and as somebody who suffers with manic depression, it has become a personal mission of sorts, to use my work as a springboard for dialogue, a vehicle for communication, and how through the use of art, i can hopefully foster an awareness about the stigma attached to mental illness.


And on your site, a quote:
An artist is in an unbreakable relation to his own cultural space and time. A reflection of this can always be found in the artwork, by the artist’s personal and subjective interpretation of the world around us.


I believe that i have become that artist. It has been a long road fraught with disappointments, blood sweat and tears, but as an individual who prides herself on the forever forward path of personal evolution, and it is my hope that you will see this in my work.

Unfortunately, I do not have a direct link to my artween site, but have just send you a message on your gallery site.

I thank you so very much for your time and look forward to hearing from you in the near future.

it's all about you...

it's all about you isn't it?

It always comes to you doesn't it?

disappointment

hands thrown up in the air for this one...

here are a million reasons why somebody does or does not do anything. how we choose to interpret things is entirely of our own doing.

i'm sick as a dog. now you know that.

Now I know that it's too much to ask for anything, unless it's about you.

and you're sick as a dog.

It's all about you isn't it. Always will and always will be.

And I have my own reasons why i may or may not care anymore.  And I have my own reasons why i may or may not reply to this email and how you chose to interpret this is up to you...

(note to self - No reply, no comment...)

but you knew that...

Mr. Fyst, you were right...

Mr. Arty, you were right. The painter man was spooked out by death. Wrote me a long email explaining what happened with his mother when he was small - came close to the big D word. Flipped him out. Then one of his best friend's sister died. He loved them to bits, but still could not bring himself to the funeral. Says he still beats himself up for it, has tried to change his character but can't seem to do it. Change his attitude that is.

Up until my grandmother died last March, it had been a long time in between deaths. The last one being my best friend who offed himself in a hotel room. I wept for days, then off and on for weeks, then off and on for months. Even to this day, I still shed a tear.

I mourn the loss of one of the best friends I have ever had, mourn the loss of the possibilities for him, the lives he could have touched. The world would have been a better place with him still in it, but on the flip side, when he was on this earth, so many people were touched by his life, love and laughter, and i was one of the privileged.


I remember seeing his ashes in a beautiful burgundy box on the altar of a small chapel. Our gang sat around it - 5 on either side. His cegep family, and his blood family. Back then, the idea of cremation freaked me out; but today, my grandmother's ashes is right beside our wedding picture. She could not make it in person, but at least she was there in spirit. Technically, she is here in person, but in a different and smaller more compact version...

So that closed door is now re-opened. Happy about that, but i tread with caution. I have begun to guard myself, but begun to question wether i must now lower my expectations of my friends and their behavior and what i will accept as "acceptable behavior".

Still now word from She. Not even a  "well, bitch, if that's the way you feel, fuck you", which is what i expected. At at least that. Latest post on fb says that she's going on vacation. Posted on somebody else's post that "I'm sick too and nobody is taking care of me!"

well girl, you made your bed, now lie in it...

but it still hurts, and it hurts my attitude towards my art and myself.

I looked at my latest frame series. Not a lot of activity on it. Received one private message that said it was brilliant - and i had reached a new pinnacle in my creativity.

Really?

why does it feel like i am rotting inside? Why do i feel as if I am slipping away?

but anyway.
The hurt will eventually turn to annoyance, and from that, minor irritation. There will be a scab, but to heal entirely, i must avoid picking at it. That is why i have removed her from my news feed. Removed all her old emails from my inbox, put them into a folder called: "I don't care anymore".

Same with my father. E and i are drafting the final email. His attention span is the size of a pin head, so being concise is key. Looking for a one two punch. Then walking away from the fight for good.

It's windy outside, snow rolling by like ice capped waves. Snow. That used to equal skiing. Father and daughter time on the slopes. And that was lots of fun. But in order to move on, i must forge new memories, new experiences.

one step at a time. One hill at a time.

So mr. Fyst - you were right, as I knew you would be. I felt the same way and knew that A was a kind heart, yet tormented soul, but for the others? Well, they have their own demons to wrestle with, but there is a difference between being self centered and centering the self.

onward and upward. On the page and onto the screen our words will go.

letter to a doctor

Today, I was just so desperate.

Got a message from my G.P, that my shrink said he wanted to take my meds down by a huge chunk. I can feel the difference between 10-20mg, but 150 made me so nervous i cracked.

All the ooze just came spilling out.

It had to come out. I was rotting inside.

make of it what he will, but you know, this month being "mental health awareness month", it might be a good thing that this gets out.

Dear Dr. C

just got an email from my g.p who informed me that you advised I decrease my Welbutrin to 150mg from 300mg (i kept on forgetting to take the extra 50 mg because i had to manually split the pill, and by the time i did remember, i had started to get manic) and no Starnoc or Xanax.

I can honestly tell you that is going to be a big problem...

Since you are not at the office right now, i have reluctantly resorted to email because i think this needs to be sorted out very quickly. and apologize profusely for bothering you, but since we can't speak on the phone tonight in detail about this matter, i don't know what to do or who to turn to because I am so completely desperate, and if my mood gets worse, might have to make a trip to the emergency tonight.

I'm a) worried about going down to 150mg of Welbutrin. From 300 that is a HUGE jump for my system. And if the current 300mg is keeping me barely afloat on good days (in terms of depression), I don't even want to think what 150 will do to me. Those lows terrify me. I have tried to commit suicide in the past, and with those thoughts lurking close to the surface these past two months, would a huge decrease like that be a wise thing to do during this time?

and b) without Starnoc (with was the only thing that helped me sleep in the past, and i believe had been taking it while on Welbutrin approximately 3 years ago, and had taken it 6 months ago, and again on the night before my wedding because i had "an emergency stash) i don't see why it would be a problem now since i am still on Welbutrin, unless there is some policy about doctors giving prescriptions for getting medications over the border, or via the internet that nobody wants to tell me about directly, because up to now, i have not had any solid comprehensive answers as to why i can't take it now.

I find it beyond frustrating and infuriating that I should have to be penalized for not being able to get a medication that is readily available in the U.S but not here in Canada because somebody didn't do their job marketing it properly at the corporate level. I will call Servier Canada again this week, as well as the people at Wyeth (who are holding on to the patents but not giving information to if or when they will put Starnoc back on the market), but this time i will get all the names of people i speak to as well as everything i was told in writing (which was) "Starnoc was taken off the market - purely for marketing reasons", because when i explain my story, it seems to me that every doctor i tell thinks I'm full of it. I'm not a liar, just desperate to be able to get the drugs that help me get the sleep that i so desperately need.

as you know, Ativan and i do not have a good history. I skipped a dose one night and thought i was honestly going to die. And nobody bothered to tell me that going off "cold turkey" was equal to somebody detoxing cold turkey from alcohol or harder drugs. I had to find out the hard way.

It was beyond any word that terrifying can describe, and i never want to feel that way again. I don't want to have to take it (Ativan) on a regular basis because i don't want to be dependent on a sleeping pill, but the catch 22 is, if i need it, i will take it, but if i do take it for more than one night in a row I will have to keep on taking it because cold turkey or skipping a dose one night is not an option - so the only way to do so is to taper off. I want to take something only when i need it, and not worry about going "cold turkey" when i don't.

I hope that you understand my predicament.

And i'm not sure if I shared this with you, but, when i was on Ativan in the past, I had gone up to 2.5 mg (about 6-8 months ago ?) because the 0.5 mg initially prescribed stopped being effective. Right now, i'm up to almost 1mg. The pattern is sure to repeat itself, which once again, as stated above, the eventual outcome is not an option.

Immovane makes me physically ill, because the nausea from the metallic taste in my mouth last for 24 hours. And unless i take large doses of Trazadone (which recently, I have taken up to 2 pills a night), I feel as if i am completely stoned, clumsy, disoriented BUT not sleepy.

Sleep plays a big part in the regulation of my bipolar, and perhaps because i have not been able to sleep, has made me in turn, more manic. At this point, i am so completely desperate, I don't know what to do, and I'm sure it's not easy for all the physicians treating me, but I am so very terribly distraught right now, and with my mom's scan at the end of November, it's imperative that I remain calm, focused and be able to sleep, which will in turn, will allow me to be able to be calm, focused etc. If and when the cancer comes back, i can't afford for my sake, but mostly for hers, to be the one who needs an incredible amount of emotional support and/or physical care because i have had another meltdown.

And yes, I have tried yoga, acupuncture, meditation, hypnosis, Valerian root, Nytol, Tynenol PM, Benadryl , holistic/natural sleep medication, warm milk, bananas, turkey, Melatonin (which my pharmacist advised me against because of my thyroid problem), and have also asked her about SAM-E, but she also advised against it because i am on the Welbutrin and Lamictal, but aside from knocking myself unconscious, I don't know what else to do.

I will as of tomorrow, try to scramble to find somebody who will see me through the system for free because after consulting with my husband tonight about our finances, we simply can't afford to pay anybody through private practice. I had maxed out this year's limit with other "therapy/councelling/life coaching sessions" (at 175$ hour, and my yearly limit being $500) and since i am not working, or in any real shape to do so, unemployment has run out and welfare not really an option since we are "supposed to be making enough income" to survive, life seems at best, bleak. Over the years, I have been through the system many times. I know that after my first nervous breakdown some 21 years ago, the average waiting time back then was 3-6 months at best to see a doctor through the hospital. Honesty, I don't think that i will be able to last that long, (if not longer now) and that scares me, well, to death.

Once again, I apologize profusely for sending you this email, but i want you to know what is happening since you are following my case and do know me and my sorted history, but also because in my current state, am manic so can type quickly, and i can still type and weep at the same time, unlike talking on the phone - this needed to be told and don't know if i will be as coherent or in any shape to talk about this tomorrow.

If you would like, you can call me at home tonight.

I will take another ativan to try to stay calm, but 1mg will be tonight's limit, and i really hope that will be enough. If anything, my husband is at the ready to take me to the hospital if need be.

And tomorrow, I will be on a photo assignment from 10 to 1pm, and then away from 5-11pm, and Friday morning might be the best time to call me at home, but because i am (trying to) working with an organization that needs photos quickly, my computer is always on.

I'm attaching my mood charts so you can see what has been going on. In all actuality, October has been quite an uneventful month, and normally, that would have in turn, stabilized my mood. When things around me in my life get out of control, i tend to swing, but with a calm environment, my swings came out of the blue and have taken me completely by surprise and have terrified me.

Dr. C, thank you once again for your compassion and understanding of my difficult and complex situation, and once again, sincerely and deeply apologize for troubling you.

Sincerely,

HpK

5am and my letter to a friend in a gallery in New york city

September 21st, 2009

From the desk of hellophotokitty...

20

Hey Bob,

it's been a long long while.

How have you been?

well, so much has happened here, i wouldn't know where to begin, so I'll give you the condensed reader's Digest version (or at least i will try...)

mom's cancer has come and gone, and come back again. Her ordeal has been nothing short of unbelievable. When I tell people about this story, they often shake their heads and say: "ooh, she must have had some bad karma". Fuck Karma, blame it on genetics. Bad genetics.

As i think i may have told you, it started off with her skin cancer, followed by a year of interferon. Then it came back - spreading to her lungs. A serious operation which left the experience of being in one of the city's apparently foremost cancer care research center/care facility equal or greater than having your fingernails slowly pulled out one by one, while having them dipped in a vat of iodine for hours on end. An anthropologist friend of ours visited her during her stay. "I've been to Ethiopia and and some of the other poorest parts of Africa. This hospital is about as close to a third world country on this continent as you can get". So much for our shining healthcare system...

So we had hoped she was in the clear, and for a while she was, until a few months later, the cancer came back onto another spot in her lung. Her options? Let the disease run it's course or try the new immunotherapy treatment called IL2 - Interlucan 2. Simply put, the last ditch effort at cancer, and as brutal as they come. Many patients have to be put into intensive care during the rounds and some even die. Mom made two complete rounds (1 week on, one week off, x 2 - and then times another two a few months later). And a miracle of miracles - the tumors had not only shrunk, but disappeared. A medical miracle. But it took its toll.

She was well for the Wedding (yea, E and i finally tied the knot after 10 years. I had to wait a decade. He's a little slow sometimes, but has a good heart...;-) which was the most important thing. She got to walk me down the isle and do the whole mother daughter thing every mother wants to experience. It was simply the most wonderful and delicate moments of my life. And everything was perfect - the day, the weather, the food, my dress, my hair, except my shoes. E trampled all over those during our first dance - a Foxtrot, which we had spent months practicing. Well, at least they weren't more than the dress and we did manage to look good on the floor.

So honeymoon to Cuba which was another dream come true. God bless Castro - he managed to keep this pristine gem of an island unspoiled and overrun by tourists and MacDonalds corporations, but now it's anybody's guess how long before you can smoke a "Cubano" cigar with your Big Mac...

We get back and two weeks later, find out mom's cancer has come back. Again. In her small bowel and intestine. Invasive surgery pronto. She is healing well now, but once again, through the jungle belly of The General Hospital which we have come to know and love (and the food, paper pulp and glass shards have more taste than the shit over there...) she managed to overcome great obstacles, but at what cost?

All of this cancer battling has done a number on all of us. It's true that cancer touches everyone, not only the people who suffer from it. Personally, i have literally gone underground. Hiding in dark subway stations, people's basements and if i go any lower, I'll be sitting in 5 feet of dirt. But there is a strange thing going on. I have shut off my "art valve". My creative spark which once propelled me to fearlessly bare everything (literally), and march into New York City with an attitude and some hot pix into your gallery, has now all but died out.

I play your wise words over and over again in my head: "you gotta pick one thing and stick with it, be it photography, writing or cinema." Well, i have tried all three separately to varying degrees, but it has been tantamount to shitting out the North tower of the world trade center. I have never felt so constipated creatively in my life. I have put down the camera, taken up the pen, put that down to fiddle with a video camera, but nothing. And it's freaking me the fuck out.

Hmmph. This what is now looking like to be a long letter, but i will try to refrain from babbling...

How do you do it Bob? How do you keep fresh in the midst of life's setbacks and crap that gets thrown to us on a daily basis? How do you weather the creative barren dusty death valleys when you are lead into them by blind faith or perhaps a sadistic form of deliberate bad judgment in map reading of rugged territory? Do you think that we "need this" to define us or our art or both at the same time?

I have spoken to my other "artist friends" and they say something along the lines of: "oh it will pass" or the sappy: "you'll find your muse/spark/purpose soon". But what happens when you don't? Bob, I have seen your art. It's intense, vibrant, chaotic, fearless and fearful at the same time. I have a funny feeling that you must have gone through some serious shit in your time. Some serious shit that must have also brought you to the brink of a creative meltdown. What made you turn around? Or have you even turned around at all?

Sometimes I get sentimental about New York and look at the post card from your gallery, the show I was (and still amazed at having being) a part of. There is a side of me who mourns for the loss of this ballsy in-your face "i am woman hear me roar" person. And part of me wonders where the hell she has taken off to cause i know she's around somewhere. Or is she?

I guess I'm writing all this to you because i know you understand me, and the complexity of my artistic process as you have been witness to the genesis of many of my pieces. I don't want you to think I'm asking you for a psych evaluation here, (if i were doing this in person, then i would at least take you out for dinner first), but i just wanted to touch base in my own quirky outrageous vulnerable way.

Perhaps it's a rusty pipe dream, but i hope that one day, after all is said and done, and i manage to shit out an earth shattering piece of work that will give everybody who sees it a boner that will last them a lifetime, that it will hang in your gallery (not the boner, but the piece of art, although a hanging boner framed and put under glass is an interesting conceptual piece that i might just run with...). Well, stranger things have happened.

It was not too long ago that i came to New York city for the first time and was almost literally laughed out of the Art gallery, and then I blinked again and there i was, naked and under glass in your gallery, hung in a primo spot (and with a couch no less. Did I ever thank you for that prime real estate spot you bestowed on me? Well if not, so many belated thank yous.)

I find it odd how I have held off sending you this letter for a long while. Perhaps I felt strange not sending you something "new" from the hpk photographic factory of debauchery and insanity, but keep hope that somehow, somewhere i will pick up my pretty picture machine again. And when I do, you can be sure that you will be the first fucken person in the whole wide world to know about it.

so on that note, I will close this letter.

I have chosen to turn this into a letter letter rather than email. Guess getting back to my creative roots, back in the days when a pen, typewriter and a piece of paper was a civilized way of communicating to the outside world , makes me feel a little more connected in an often disconnected world.

And oh yea, I'm giving you a copy of the "gift cd" I made for our wedding guests. From a to z - did everything on it. But as much as I would like to take credit for composing "fly me to the moon" for Old Blue Eyes and other great swinging tunes as well, I'm happy to say that I'm still a retro queen at heart and pretty creative with the graphic design ideas.

Take good care of yourself Bob. Give my love to Seb and Mari and then save a little for yourself :-)

And thank you for everything, including looking at/listening/reading my stuff, but most of all, believing in me and my art.

Hpk

guardian angels exist in cyberspace.

I was getting very distraught that my postcards had not made it to the gallery in time for the opening last night. After an hour with customer service, they agreed to reprint 500 more postcards rush order and ship them off last night.

Well, I just received confirmation that they arrived safely.

a day late - well, i guess I'll make an impression ;-)

but this is what moved me.

An old friend of mine from flickr who is now on facebook posted this onto my profile.

and then, what i wrote back to him.

an end of the week blessing of sorts.

Me:

Releived that the Postcards FINALLY made it to NYC. A little late, but I guess I'm sure to leave a lasting impression ;-)

Derrick: HPK, believe it or not! -- I prayed that those postcards got to you in good hands eventually (several times). In fact, I sent my guardian angel out to make to guide those cards to you in fashionable time. And, of course, none of this ever fails!

What is interesting is that yesterday I had started to write you a wall post that was going to ask if perhaps you had gotten them yet (because I sensed in my heart that you were going to get them; my guardian angel never fails me). If you had of said "no," I was going to say, "...have a little faith, because they are going to be there soon, watch and see." All of this is true.

Then I see now that you received them. Perfect!

and what i wrote to him right after...

Derrick, you have no idea how completely floored i am that you took a few moments to pray and ask your guardian angel to help get those cards to nyc! I was gonna get all mushy gushy on my post, but thought that i would rather tell you personally. Thank you so very very much.

It's been such a long time since I have been moved by the kindness of strangers (well, you're not a stranger, but we have never "Met" per say, but you know what i mean...) that when i read this a few minutes ago, i shed tears of joy and thankfulness. I have always felt that you were a special person from the moment i saw your photos, and then as the years passed, and i got to know you a bit more, that opinion became solidified. You have such a way with words, the sentences you compose, the images you create - the kind only a caring and sensitive soul would imagine. I'm almost speechless! Thank you thank you thank you!!

Guardian angels - not many people talk about them anymore. I once had an experience when i was very young - perhaps 7 or 8. I always had a statue of a guardian angel on my bureau. She was beautiful - tall, stoic, cascading long golden hair, a shimmery white robe and delicate sparkled wings. It was an old ceramic figurine that was passed down from my mom to me. Well, one night, i awoke from a horrible nightmare and sat up in bed. Before me was the fading apparition of the same guardian angel, now larger than life - extending her arm out to me as if to say: go back to sleep. It's okay, i'm here to take care of you..." And as i try to focus on her, she slowly faded away. That night, i had the best sleep of my life. I tried to explain it to my mom but she shrugged it off as part of a dream, but i knew otherwise.

it was not until a few days after my grandfather's funeral did my mom start to believe in what i was saying. Her father had a long suffering bout with lung cancer and when he died, was skin and bones. A few days after the funeral, my mom was awake, tossing and turning, in and out of a light drift of unconsciousness when she noticed something glowing on in the curtains in front of her. She looked up and it was her father - radiant, glowing, and looking healthy and happy. He reached out to touch her shoulder, as if to say: "I'm here, i'm happy and i love you". She was filled with grace and love and as she fell asleep, felt protected and at peace. She still considers that the best sleep of her life.

I often have dreams of dead relatives. They never actually "Speak", just telepathically communicate. I had told my grandmother (my mom's mom) when i was about 15 that i had these dreams. Her face lit up: "back in the old country (czechoslovakia) we would consider people who were able to see the dead as special and very gifted. You have a special connection with the beyond." well, it was many months before i dreamt of her, but a few weeks ago, both my mom and myself dreamt of her ON THE SAME NIGHT!! and to both of us, revealed that she was happy and at peace (although she did make my mom work - "I'm coming to visit and I'm bringing 5 friends - I hope you don't mind!". (My mom always seems to be working in her dreams. Guess it's a capricorn thing cause e does the same... lol) And then, two weeks later, we both dreamt of my aunt and my grandmother - AGAIN -THE SAME NIGHT!! So as i get older, i realize that there are perhaps things as the afterlife - planes of energy that vibrate long after the body is gone, and that sometimes, if you are sensitive enough, or perhaps, ask loudly enough, you will get a reply.

Atoms communicate to each other. On what level still is the great unknown, and perhaps will forever remain the greatest mysteries of the universe. All of that to say, I guess you have a really great relationship with your guardian angel Derrick. And because you shared that relationship with me in an indirect way, I am so very blessed to have you as a friend in my life. :-))

I have one little favor to ask though - if you can please say some special prayers for my mother? She is still on her arthritis medication which happens to be an immune system suppressant. The battle rages between her oncologist who says to go off it (because he thinks that it suppressed her immune system so much that despite the IL2 treatments which were immune system boosters, so that the cancer was able to come back) and her g.p who says to stay on it. She is battle weary and i fear that if the cancer does come back, she will refuse treatment, or that the cancer will come back with a vengeance - brain or pancreatic cancer, which there is usually no hope for survival. I'd like to believe in miracles - that she will beat this thing, but after reading your post, I now believe in little ones, and they are the building block for the big ones. God Bless you Derrick. Than you for being so very special. oxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxxooxoxoox hpk

pen pals

wow.

I just got added as a friend from an old pen pal of mine.

Way back from, oh man, 1982?

Holy crap.

Do i feel old, but quite happy.

gotta love modern technology.

a letter from a friend way down south

Y has to be one of the most spiritual people i know. She is an incredible woman and from her, have learned so much about life.

She is a wise sage, a patient mentor and her advice on this issue has opened the door to peace and acceptance.

Thank you Y so very very much.

I am glad you wrote. I have had a rough week here and couldn't write anything positive. We have had a lot of rain here so my fibromyalgia was very bad and the pain was excruciating, and at work I don't have air conditioning which is unbearable on hot and humid days which makes me crazy working at the mental hospital! I love New mexico but it is the Third world here for the most part so all that I like about less developed places sometimes makes it hard to live here , too.

I have thought a lot about your situation with your father and I am going to say it as is. Hpk, your father does not behave like a mature adult, he behaves as if you owe him something all the time. He is what is called in the mental health world, a person suffering from a narcissistic personality disorder. they always feel they deserve more than others and feel they should be praised, noticed, entertained, honored for just being alive, and they feel they should do nothing to deserve that, and when they don't get the attention they want, they get vindictive.

Check the Wikipedia entry for narcissistic personality disorder. My mother was like that, and also very physically and emotionally abusive, and the only way I can think of dealing with her memory is to remember that she couldn't be an adult, a stable mother because she had a very serious personality disorder that she wasn't willing to work on to be a better person. Without having met your father, but having heard of his behavior from your mom and you, I think I can safely say that he also has a personality disorder and is not willing to be humble, forgiving, or self critical to make peace with his own life and family.

It's a shame, but that is his karma and his choice, and at some level, we chose to be born to an inadequate parent or (2 in my case) because we needed at a karmic level to learn about independence, to think in more creative ways, to learn about a certain kind of suffereing and be there for others who also have similar karma. that is how I deal with the situation, and I still grieve for parents I never had, the childhood or adulthood love and life direction I never had, but I try to accept it and look at my survival and my good relationship with my husband as a blessing and success and try to make peace with it.

I am especially grateful for your mother's presence in my life because she was an older female friend that listened to me, was present as a friend, and genuinely liked me through the years when I lived with a deep sadness that I wasn't loveable because my own mother didn't love me.

You have a wonderful man in your life, your husband, and it is all right to be a parent to each other spometimes as well as a spouse. Nathan and I are like that with each other, and we value each other espcially because we will forever be refugees from our strange childhoods, and we talk about the childhoods and youth we could have had if we had met each other earlier, and this fantasy is also very healing with us.


I will call your mom, tonight. I think of her all the time. I really don't understand why she is going through this. I don't know. god does work in mysterious ways and everyone's life path and spiritual journey is mysterious insome ways. i don't know why suffering happens. i wish i did. this is a very deep question, all I know is that I try to remind myself to be grateful for being alive, being alive one more day and to enjoy beauty.

I really think you need to connect with a cancer support group as a caretaker, you need to share your burden. And yes, most people will duck when things get rough, and yes I have experienced it in my life many times.

It would be good for you and E and your mom to look at finances, long term plans, Plan A and Plan B, and Plan C, to evaluate what you all can live with, what you can't, what is your bottom line, at least as you can identify them for now (because life does change all that as well), so that you feel empowered by having discussed the undiscussables! There is big relief in that as well; check all the programs, services, obligations etc around your situation. That is also something a based cancer survivor group might help you with.

change skins

augh.

I'm throwing up my hands for this one.

It seems like there will be a never-ending who hurt who first cat and mouse game.

I mean hello - the man is 67 years old. Grow the fuck up!

His email was like a kick in the face, transporting me back, 30 years ago when i sat at a table across from him. It was the final settlement of the alimony child support fiasco. I had moved in with my boyfriend, and he and his wife deiced to pay a visit. Turns out it was a fact finding mission, not a friendly drop in - according to my father (through his lawyer), since i was living with somebody now, there was no need to pay child support. So he began the process of claiming that he was going to sue me for all the back child support/alimony payments.

it was ugly - even more disgusting than the divorce. I was 20 years old, just recovering from a severe breakdown, sitting in front of a man who called himself my father. His eyes dead, black, not the brown i had remembered them to be.

Back room discussions between lawyers finally ironed things out.

He would continue with the original agreement as stipulated in the divorce papers 19 years ago. Child support until my 21st birthday.

As our lawyers passed around the papers to be signed, i passed him a paper with all the names of my current doctors. Three psychiatrist, an endocrinologist, gynecologist and a general doctor all agreeing that i was in fact, suffering from a severe hormonal imbalance, and severe Premenstrual dysphoric disorder (PPMD) and manic depression. My "fits of crying and depression" were not in my head, and were not tools to "manipulate" him into giving me more money. They were real.

I said this, pointing to the list of doctors and their phone numbers.

"every one of them said you can call them for details. Every one of them said they would be happy to explain all of this to you. My problems are not "in my head". They are real."

Without blinking , or looking up, he snarled:

"well, if i asked my doctor when all my problems started, they would say they all started when you were born!"

and that was all he said.

He stood up, pushed the chair away, shook his lawyers hand and bolted for the door.

We all sat there - mouths gaping wide open.

Stunned.

In shock.

did he just say that?

His lawyer began to apologize profusely, sincerely disturbed by his client's outburst.

What could he say? What could we say?

Our lawyer took me into her office, and gave me a big hug.

"He's just an evil man. In all of my years of practice, i have never seen anything as despicable as this. I am so sorry this had to happen."

I was in shock. My mom was in shock.

We sat in the car, running the scenario over and over in our head for days.

Days turned into weeks. Weeks into months, and then into years.

And then one day, it just happened.

I learned to let go.

I woke up and told myself that he did what he did for some strange alien reason that i would never understand (which turned out to be his psychotic wife who always believed i was out to steal him from her) and that holding a grudge was only poisonous to me. I had to accept and love him nonetheless.

So then i opened the door to forgiveness. Opened the lines to dialogue.

And one day, out of the blue he called. Left a long message on my phone. He had cancer, had beat it, was retired, and looking forward to reconnecting.

And we did, and it was wonderful. Finally, as adults, we were able to talk, laugh. I had my father back in my life again. Not as my father per say, but a wounded man who was happy to reconnect with a young woman he had once loved dearly. A part of him. He a part of me. Associated by blood lines.

Blood is thicker than water.

but after months of spotty correspondence, old patterns re-emerged again. "Yea, we will get together, come up north", but something would always come up.

Here we go again.

I was the 11 year old girl, sitting on the stoop of her front door. Tiny suitcase in had, waiting for dad to pick her up for a nice weekend up north.

he never came

"I forgot..."

I forgave, moved on. Accepted and then let go.

Life went on.

Then one day, the nasty email from facebook.

"I'm entitled to know what is going on because I am your father.."

whaaaatttt???

I wrote back, calmly. Logically, giving all the facts.

His reply, short and sweet. Something about he suffered pain of loneliness, and that certain people and situations kept me away from him.

cryptic.

I moved on, opening the door to dialogue. Besides, i wanted him to be a part of the biggest day of my life. He was still my father. Not a very good one, but still one.

It was pleasant, but that was it. He only came up to me to say goodbye at the end of the night. We laughed, took a few photos and that was it. The joy of the day overshadowed the awkwardness of that final exchange. But I was still happy he came.

Then the lovely email - a day after my honeymoon.

Another kick in the stomach.

Then the news mom's cancer had come back.

Sucker punched again.

wounded and weary, knowing that another boxing mach would begin soon - round x with cancer treatment. Not again, fucken cancer. Can't you stay away?!

so i replied. Trying to be as honest as possible. What did i have to lose anymore?

Dad,

All i can say is that i'm so very sorry that you felt the way you did. It was in no way done to hurt anybody. I was very saddned and very depressed when i got this email a day after my honeymoon. I didn't know what to say - what could I say after all? I think sorry would not be enough...

You know, not having you in the wedding party was such a tough decision. I was very very confused and it caused me many sleepless nights, but please try to see this from my perspective, please try to understand - if things were different in both of our lives and i had to make decisions on how our lives would have turned out - we all would have been a happy family - both mom and dad walking me down the isle, but the reality of it all is that mom has been all alone to raise me all by herself for the past 30 years. I could not make you a bigger part of this wedding without causing her a lot of pain, and because of everything i have seen her go through first hand, and all that she has done for me and seen me go through, i felt it was my way of thanking her for taking care of me and loving me so much. She was involved right from day 1 - driving me to every store in the city, spending late nights with me making the invitations, planning, and all while in between, doing her il2 treatments. Lots of stuff happened so quickly - it seems like i blinked and the day was over.

It was a hard decision but i hope you understand that as an adult, people have to make difficult decisions in their life, and this was one of them...

And the day really went by so quickly - it was hard for me to get to everybody. People were coming up to me to talk, i really wished you had taken a moment, taken me aside and had a nice father/daughter chat, wished me well, and told me how pretty i looked, because every girl wants to hear that from her dad on her special day - regardless of the situation. But I want you to know, that despite the way things turned out, I was so very happy that you came, and yes, i too wish we could have taken some photos together - but you know what? Nobody got family photos. I have none of us with eric's parents or with you or mom, so don't feel left out. Somebody was supposed to be looking out and making sure all of this got done, but it happened. We can't go back in time and change it or be angry because of it.

but alas, things happened the way they happened. We live and move on.

i think there are a lot of unresolved issues - and the wedding was not the place to talk about them. I know we need one on one time so we can really talk. Email is so hard, and not very personal.

In an email long ago, you wrote: Some situations and some people had kept you away from me

what did that mean exactly? I was always there, always waiting, hoping that we could reconnect, and i hope that we still can.

hpk

Mom had her operation. Another hell experience in the hospital. They didn't give her medications to her for 4 days. Prozac, synthroid. Anti depressant and thyroid medication. Two very important meds. She was going through serious withdrawal. You don't come off cold turkey with prozac. It can make you lose your mind.

Seriously...

She was let out of the hospital too early, without any dressing on her 30 inch incision across her belly. No follow up appointments. Nothing.

She got sick, the wound seriously infected. Rushed to the hospital again.

The never-ending saga.

Then a reply.

Mute and dazed, i walked away from the computer. E was away on business and knew that re-reading this would drive me insane. I fwd it to him and waited for his call.

He came back. We talked. I cried, yelled and cried some more.

I had no more strength. Fighting for my mom in the hospital with incompetent and insensitive staff, seeing my poor mother suffer again drained me. And now this.

Thank you for your email.


It still does not change or lighten up my hurt.


I'll make it short, like your comment, "as an ADULT, people have to make difficult decisions in THEIR LIVES and that things happened the way they happened." You certainly made yours.


In closing, I truly wish you and your mate all the best.


Dad.

I guess that was it.

or that is it.

There is no solution to this never ending fight.

He is now dead to me. How anybody can do this to their own child is beyond my comprehension. Grow up old man. You will forever be under the iron thumb of your so called wife. She got you to tie your tubes, she will make you cut the strings with your only daughter.

You are made for each other.

so i try to walk away, not looking back,

not looking back.

“To change skins, evolve into new cycles, I feel one has to learn to discard. If one changes internally, one should not continue to live with the same objects. They reflect one's mind and the psyche of yesterday. I throw away what has no dynamic, living use.”

~Anais Nin

a letter to a friend with news on mom and reflections on the "c" word

I have to make this short, it's been a long fucken day

Surgery went well - they got the shit out - including her appendix.
They are pretty sure it was the cancer coming back - she said something weird: "I might have to retire - the cancer is aggressive, and it will come back again and i'm okay with that..."

Every time i hear this it makes me think of resignation

"Yea, but your tumors - the others that they thought were the "end all of your life - the last batch - shrunk and disappeared..."

"yea, you're right..."

Its so hard to be fighting for her.

I know that i will have some fighting of my own to do soon too. It will only be a matter of time until I get something to do with skin cancer - my chances are now up to 85% that i will get it in my lifetime (it also runs in families) - both parents with cancer, the shit that is up with my cervix (they found abnormal cells - see the doctor in september...) if something happens to me, i won't be able to take care of her...

fucken hell. the mind is starting to spiral again.

not good.

but i don't have cancer yet, and she is on the road to recovery, but i can't help but have all this shit hang in the back of my mind all the time....

anyway sweetie - sorry to sound like a downer.

I need sleep - long day today followed by another 2mrw.

It's so hard to be positive when you are so tired.

Why is that so?

If being happy takes so much effort, how can being happy be a good thing?

Doing my silly monologue thing.

Dangerous when i find myself starting to sound like Carrie Bradshaw mind melting with Camus...

fuck logic

Fuck logic

here is a letter to a friend.

I am so upset right now and hate having my eerie ability to act on my gut questioned.

I will have to go through my archives to find ALL THE TIMES (and yea, there were many) that i did act on my 'intuition" and amazing things happened. But this time, Mr. Logical had to ruin the day.

Mom goes in for surgery 2mrw to remove the mass.

I was shocked when she said: "you have to take this trip. Even if i have to take a cab to or from the hospital before/after the surgery, so be it. You have to go..."

and this is my mom...

so here is the email i sent to Y, the woman who many months ago, out of the blue, while holding my hand and feeling my energies, told me that I had to go to Lake Placid, because there was something there for me. This is the same woman who has told me and my mother many times of many things that without a shadow of a doubt, have come true.

Mystic perhaps?

Or as e would say - "lucky guesses"

but one guess is lucky, 20 is more than luck...

and lake placid - what were the chances that e would have to go there?

And of all places in the U.S - there???

Hi Y,

thank you for getting back to me. I passed along your email to my mom. She is in prep mode - right now she's at work and 2mrw she goes into surgery 1st thing in the morning. We are all very stressed. The doctors have been very supportive of her and she is getting the best care. Her new surgeon is so wonderful and the moment i met him, i had such a wonderful feeling. i know she is in good hands.

She will have to take another unpaid leave, which is pretty disturbing as she has run out of paid medical leave time. And it's tough too - I don't think either of us has had time to grieve the loss of her mother/my grandmother. it was her death, my wedding and now my mom's next surgery. Cuba honeymoon was a Godsend. Without that, i don't think i would have been able to survive this next journey.

Speaking of journey...

I need your advice.

The man just got an invitation to go to Lake placid for a business seminar/trade show. This came up completely out of the blue, and of course, I flipped when he told me because i remember your telling me that you had a feeling that lake placid was the place for me to go (that time we sat on my mom's steps when you felt my palm/energies). I told my mom - she said: "Go. Even if i have to take a cab to and from the hospital. If Y said to go, you have to go!"

I feel the same way. As does she still.

But e on the other hand, is not really sure.

He's trying to make excuses for me not to go - "ah, it's business, you'll be bored and stuck in a hotel room" and his latest: "we can go another time"...

but I have been telling him - IT"S NOT THE SAME THING!

but alas - a skeptic is always a skeptic, and now he has me doubting my gut feeling which is telling me to go.

But would it be the same thing if we go another time?

I feel that this chance is like a gift of fate - and that perhaps something will happen, perhaps not, but i don't want to not take this chance. In my experience, if i act on something that feels right - then something usually comes out of it. But if that instance/coincidence is changed in any way (like e's wanting to 'reschedule") - it just won't be the same.

Y, please tell me i'm crazy, but without e being able to take me down on this trip, it just wont happen - whatever is to happen.

You can't 'reschedule" fate! Am i right?

E will have to leave on monday so that does not give me much time to make a decision. I have been quickly looking into alternative ways to go down there but there are none. The amtrack route or the buss routes don't stop there, there are no planes that fly there and there is one transfer buss point and it will take 5 extra hours. I don't know what to do.

What is your gut feeling??

I have been feeling so lost, and weep all the time. I feel that i am running out of options, time and faith.

Photography has become painful - a grim reminder of something that i had once loved so much but is now giving me grief because every avenue i have taken in terms of getting my work out there has closed in my face. The same with film and writing.

I don't have much energy - and with trying to be supportive of my mom, it leaves me empty - both emotionally and spiritually. This void has become my cancer....

I'm so sorry to have to end this on a sour note, but i am such a mess right now, i can't even type any longer.

if you can get back to me before next week, it would be so very much appreciated.

and yes - i need to come down and see you and N. Your kind kindred spirits would be just the kind of prescription for a wear soul that the doctor would order.

take care of yourself and we will talk soon

and so the saga continues...

I don't know what to say...

I was beyond "floored" when I got this.

E and I had just come back from an AMAZING vacation in Cuba (God, I love that place) - sun, sand and good times. We were both well rested (it took E a big longer - he actually had two conference calls, or attempts at conference calls - not to mention that my cell bill is going to be over 500$ for sure, and only really began to relax mid week) and came back refreshed and tanned. We had never been on vacation together before - never a "real" vacation that didn't involve camping or "rolling work into a vacation" tip, so this message was such a ice cold welcome back home.

On shitbook, unless somebody creates a "subject line" for a message, only the first few lines appear in the "from" line. So there I was, all excited about this nice note from dad, which quickly turned into sobs of anger and frustration.

Seriously - what the fuck?!

I suggest that you read the following entries to really get the gist of what is going on. After you read part 1 and part 2 you will have a new appreciation of how confused I am as how to reply.

HPK,

Your wedding was a dream. Your beauty and E's personality were the tops. The location and setting were "A" class and once again I congratulate the both of you.


Something was out of line and hit me hard. As I was not any part of your wedding, I wondered why..... was I invited.


I have to express my deep hurt feelings as I felt so much like an outcast.


No pictures of you and I were taken. Not even one.

I was not even part of "The Family Reception Line " to meet all of your guests. At that moment...... I felt like leaving......, but decided to say as I had to much respect for your wedding day.


Your comment to me on the reception line "THANKS FOR COMING" as if me ...DAD, was considered as a GUEST. That hurt ..the most.


Not once did you come personally to see your Dad and talk for a bit.


I refer to my email of the of March and your reply in which both our us had suffered enough over the past 30 years and the mending time as GROWN ADULTS were in process and turn the pages of the past and begin a new loving one as Father and Daughter.


I was hoping for this change to be and you had a chance to mend things together at your wedding...... obliviously it was far from your process and now I realize the true picture.


30 years is a long time to carry a grudge , and life must go on through many more tough hurdles and ever so passes by so quickly.


You made your choice and I accept your decision to keep your "Father of the Bride", regardless of the past, out of the pictures on this truly special daughters marriage occasion.


So...... as I now will turn another page in my life with you, I wish the both of you Happiness.

hello mr. president?

I found something that caught my eye in some bridal magazine, so I thought I'd investigate.

"Send your invitation to the President and get a signed reply" *

What the hell? I said to myself.

So during the past two weeks, in-between mania, depression, hallucinations, excitations, good and bad vibrations, I sent this off.

I'm not hoping for much, but was pleased as punch when the UPS tracking number said that my little package (invite, rsvp card, letter, and Lounge Cd extraordinaire!) made it into the Big House.

very cool

So here it is - my letter.

Pass the box of kleenex!!

Monday, May 11, 2009

(26 days and counting…)

Dear President Obama, and First Lady Michele,

It is with great pleasure, and such excitement that my fiancé and I are able to send you an invitation to our wedding!

As a Canadian, I must say, your last visit here, however brief, inspired our country on a political level, but most of all - on a personal level. A feeling of transformation, of renewed hope in these times of despair, conviction to overcome obstacles, and vision for a harmonious future can now be within reach during your upcoming terms as President.

With so many pressing issues across the globe today, it must seem that the world is resting on your shoulders as the eyes of millions look to you for solutions and guidance – but I have no doubt that your courage, compassion for humanity, belief in what is just and true will bring about many positive changes.

I must say, President Obama and Mrs. Obama, it is such a great privilege to be able to send you an invitation to our wedding; and as model married couple, your deep love for each other is so very beautiful and has become such an inspiration to my fiancé and I.  Having been together for already 10 years, E and I know how important it is to be supportive of one another. Having both parents on both sides live with cancer, we have become each-other's rock of Gibraltar.  I can't even begin to imagine how many years in politics must have caused strain on your marriage; but every TV interview together, you show such patience, kindness and support to one another which is just so refreshing to see.

I would have no doubt that a trip to Montreal at this point in time would be out of the question as the potential re-emergence of the swine flu, instability in the financial markets, and the volatility of the middle east, your need to keep abreast of these events takes precedence over an unknown Canadian couple’s wedding, but knowing that you will in some way, be connected to our special day is a great honor and blessing.

When my mother was diagnosed three years ago with an extremely rare and highly aggressive form of melanoma, having undergone countless surgeries and several rounds of chemotherapy (the last round being IL2 – the most difficult and often last resort of cancer treatments), the doctors gave her a 10-15% chance of survival after one year.  Having a loved one, especially a mother, diagnosed with cancer is an incredibly painful, lonely and sad moment.  I’m sure you must have felt much of what I had gone (and still go) through after your mother's diagnosis.  But when my mom heard about your stepping into the political spotlight, she confided in me:

“K, a few hours after Martin Luther King Jr. had been shot, you were born. The world mourned and a dream of a black president, for many, had died. But within this moment of sadness, the beginning of your little life brought me so much joy.

Many years later, the first time I hear about Barack Obama’s campaign, listened to him speak, I had renewed faith that someone like him would carry on MLK’s dream. My birthday being the same day as Dr. King, and you being born on the day of his assignation, I feel there is such serendipity and connection with this senator from Illinois, that I intend on living long enough to see him become President.” 

And when the last set of projections from CNN came in, we both wept tears of joy. That night, we celebrated her strength and courage in her battle with cancer, and the dawn of a new and transformational era in world politics. The words of MLK echoed in our minds and hearts – his dream was coming true.

I apologize if this letter is long winded (it’s not everyday that I get a chance to write to the President of the United States!) and even though I have no expectation that you would make it down to Montreal for our “big day” (and besides, this venue alone would be a logistical nightmare for your secret service, and police escorts, not to mention that feeding your entourage might difficult on our small budget) but knowing that somewhere in the White House, you your beautiful wife, might be reading this letter, enjoying our “easy listening lounge” CD, and knowing that we will be making a toast in your honor – a toast to your success, safety and health for you and your family, will be putting a smile on our faces a mile long.

And if you ever happen to stop by Montreal on your next Canadian visit, my future husband, my mom and I (can you tell we are such huge fan of the Obamas ?) would be absolutely delighted to show you the sights and savor the unique French Canadian cuisine (if you like Beaver Tails, and enjoy a good burger every once and a while – a "Poutine" which is a dish of french fries slathered in sauce and cheddar cheese curds would be well worth the gastronomical adventure).

Have a wonderful day and thank you again for taking the time to read our letter.

(and we sincerely apologize for the date on the RSVP card – we could not get to our graphic artist to change it to a later one…)

Sincerely Yours,

 K & E

* had I seen this earlier, I would have invited the Queen and the Pope as well...