Tag: writing

Stand For Something

~ Kai Raines ~ Leave a comment

Lately I feel like all the news focuses on being against something, and against each other. Now I am against many things…like the war in Ukraine…Putin. The war in the Middle East. War in general. Terrorism in any form. Our country becoming an autocracy. Fascism. Dictators. Bombing boats because you “think” there might be drug smugglers on it. Tearing down the White House. Destroying our democracy. Trust me when I tell you I could go on and on…but I won’t.

It’s easy to be against things…especially right now. But that leads me to ask myself, what am I for? It seems like people don’t talk about that so much. Conversations are a back and forth of what someone has done and how you hate it and them…and they feel the same way about you. It is so easy to blame and argue and fight, but when do we step back, look at ourselves, and ask if we are just adding to the conflict. An ever-expanding list of things I’m against does nothing to create change or to build a bridge between people. It merely creates more distance…more animosity.

Maybe it’s easier to be against things. That way someone other than me is always to blame. If I am for something, I have to own it. There is a responsibility for me to act on what I’m for. To put action to my words…do something. Perhaps we can use the list of what we’re against to sift through and find what we’re actually for. What do we believe in…what do I believe in?

I am for democracy. I am for free speech…even when we don’t agree. The constitution. The right to vote. Equality. Diversity. I’m for a first-rate educational system…a public school system providing a quality education for everyone. I’m for a living wage. Financial assistance to help people struggling with housing or food insecurity, mental health issues, disability, unemployment, childcare…meeting the real needs of people. I’m for compassion and empathy…for putting myself in someone else’s shoes before I rush to judgement. Despite arguments to the contrary people do not get rich on government assistance…people barely survive. I am for surviving…for thriving…not just getting by. I’m for opportunities for everyone. For freedom of religion, including the freedom to not have one. I’m for a united country…for less red and blue and more purple. I’m for the truth and reality. I am for love and the power of love…to heal, to change, to transform. I’m for the golden rule…treating others how you want to be treated. I’m for respect. For listening. For hearing. I’m for equal opportunities for everyone in our country. I’m for happiness and joy. For living without fear. I’m for affordable healthcare that actually provides good healthcare. And affordable dental care. I’m for social security, Medicare, Medicaid, and programs that provide care for people who need it. I’m for the rights of the disabled. For access to mental health care and substance abuse treatment. I am for safety and security. For justice. I’m for affordable housing for everyone. I’m for the availability of nutritious food for everyone, especially children. For access to regular meals and eating until you’re full. For sharing with others because we care about them…whoever “them” is. I’m for the ability and opportunity for everyone to live the life they dream of…make all the money they want…and I’m for a sense of obligation to care for our neighbors. For an abundance mentality that understands there is plenty for everyone…and we can share out of our abundance. I am for abundance for everyone.

I know I could keep going but that’s enough for now. The point of that monster paragraph is to encourage you to spend some time thinking about what matters to you…what are you for? Find those things and be for them…be moved to care, to give, to share, practice kindness, compassion, empathy. Listen more and talk less. Seek understanding. I’m for seeking justice, loving mercy, and humility…being able to care about someone else more than myself. And I’m for love…always. Because in the end what matters is how we love people. I am definitely for that.

The Last Resort

~ Kai Raines ~ Leave a comment

Chronic pain is a funny thing…and by that, I mean a pain in the ass. Now that is funny because my ass doesn’t hurt at all. It’s a pain in my neck, my low back, my left arm and hand, my hips, knees, and feet. That’s all. It’s on my mind today because I woke up at 4 this morning. I woke up because I was in so much pain. I tried going back to sleep until 5:22 and then thought, “Fuck it” and I got up. I feel like I’ve lived a whole day already and it’s 9:53. Might be a long day.

Pain is on my mind because Friday I’m going to a new orthopedic surgeon to discuss my elbow. That is never my favorite conversation. When I fell and broke my arm, into several pieces, and dislocated my elbow two years ago, the surgeon told me that it was “reasonable” to try one more time to put a new implant in and see if it would stay in place. After that he said he would recommend removing the replacement elbow and putting nothing in its place…an arm with no hinge. He told me, if that occurred, I would still have partial use of my hand. And he said his patients that have had their artificial joint removed, without replacement, are happy with the outcome because they have no more pain.

Sit with that for a minute. No more pain…go from daily pain, that ranges from frustrating to intolerable, to none. None. Nada. Zippo. It’s hard for me to even imagine. It has been a long time since my elbow didn’t hurt. I should mention the reason for a new doctor is not because of a problem with the old one…and he isn’t old at all. My insurance changed, and he is no longer in network. That is very sad. I thought about changing my insurance back but the costs of everything would be so much higher, I can’t do it.

I got a recommendation for an “excellent” orthopedic surgeon from a physical therapist I trust. PT’s know all the best doctors…nurses do too. So, I made and appointment and waited three months to see him. Let me back up and say that my elbow has been hurting for the past year and a half. I know the replacement is loose. How do I know it’s loose you wonder. Because this has happened three other times. And those three times I have had revision surgery. The humeral component, in my upper arm, was removed and replaced…hence the term revision…in case you’re wondering…you’re probably not. I should also mention that I can’t always straighten my arm anymore because it gets stuck. When that happens, I push my arm and force it straight. It feels like trying to shift gears on your bike…but the chain is clanking around trying to connect…and the peddles don’t work until it does. My arm grinds and pops when I push it straight. Not my favorite feeling.

So, for a year and a half my old doctor has repeatedly asked me what I wanted to do about my elbow. I have always told him “Nothing.” I haven’t felt like the pain was bad enough for a surgical intervention…and that is the only intervention left. That is until now. Because now I can’t stand the pain anymore. I feel like it’s taking a toll on my body and my mental health…because I feel hopeless. Like I’ll be stuck with this pain, grinding, and popping forever. That’s depressing.

Okay, so now, back to my story…I went to see the new doctor. He said my X-rays looked “good” and my arm looked “good.” My arm is hugely swollen and it looks deformed. If that’s your idea of “looking good” then there’s a problem…we have a problem. Aside from when I broke my arm and dislocated my elbow, my X-rays have always looked fine. The loosening had never been seen until I had a CT scan. I don’t know why that is…different imaging or better imaging, I guess. I just know it’s true.

I told the doctor what my previous orthopedic surgeon said, and he looked at me like I was a lunatic. I felt as though he thought I was casually discussing having my elbow taken out…like I’d talk about what to have for dinner…as if it’s no big deal. It’s a fucking huge deal. I can’t begin to describe how big of a deal. If he had asked me, I would have told him it’s taken a year and a half to even consider this possibility. And I would have said that I’d been practicing doing everything one handed to get an idea of what it would be like. He actually said, “You know you won’t be able to use your arm because you won’t have a joint. Your arm will just hang there.” WTF!? Are you fucking kidding me? Thanks for mansplaining that to me because, dopey me, I didn’t know an elbow was important. That’s what I wanted to say but I refrained. He didn’t ask me anything. He spent all of five minutes with me before he referred me to a different doctor. He said if I needed my joint removed that would be the guy to do it. Obviously, I was a problem he didn’t want to deal with, so he sent me away.

He didn’t ask about the history of my elbow or the eleven earlier surgeries, including the three revisions and the infection that took six months and three surgeries, including several months with no joint, to treat. He asked nothing. I felt invisible and pushed aside. Disregarded. Like I was a problem he didn’t have time for…or any interest in solving. I was depressed, and it took me three weeks to even be willing to make an appointment with the next doctor.

This decision is not because of one failed elbow replacement…every replacement has failed. This is the fourth failure…fourth and final. I cannot keep doing this. This is a huge decision and it’s a painful decision…one I’ve considered for a long time. This was not an easy decision, and certainly not one I’ve taken lightly. It’s scary. I feel afraid. But I cannot live with the constant pain or continue to have my joint locking…or dislocating. My arm isn’t functioning now even with the joint.

So, is it better for me to be in constant pain, needing ever increasing amounts of pain medication. And I need stronger medication because what I have doesn’t work anymore. Is it better for me to lack sleep because of pain. Or to dread each new day because it’s intolerable. Because that’s what chronic pain does…it causes dread. Dread and fear and anxiety. It wears you down day by day…little by little.

Chronic pain is a challenge because other people don’t necessarily see it. I get up each day, take care of the dog, I cook meals, run errands…all the “normal” things. Someone observing me would not see my pain. It’s not like I walk around moaning and crying. I’m not big on complaining…it doesn’t help anything. But because you can’t see my pain you might not know it’s there. That’s a difficult thing about chronic pain…it is frequently invisible. Just because you don’t see my pain does not mean it isn’t there or that it isn’t significant.

I am a strong person. I know that. I’ve been through a lot of shit…and I keep going. In my family, I was praised for being strong. Praised for not complaining and for my ability to handle anything. I wanted the praise, and I wanted to be strong. And I am.

Now I’m learning it is not a sign of weakness that I need something done to help me. I’m not failing because the pain is too much to bear. I can’t take it anymore. I’ve dealt with it for over 7 years…that’s a long fucking time. Maybe my strength now is the realization that I need help. Maybe it’s finally having the ability to ask for help. To seek help. I wonder if at some point it goes from strength to stupidity to just pretend everything is fine when the pain is unbearable. Maybe that’s just denial…or fear…or both.

Chronic pain is a reality for millions of people in this country…including people you know. Chronic pain isn’t just physical pain. It’s also emotional pain. The fear. The depression. Feeling disregarded or disrespected. Dismissed…tossed aside for someone else to deal with. Told, without words, to be quiet and stop being a problem. Be an obedient and quiet little girl. Don’t make waves. Listen to the doctor…he says nothing is wrong…and his opinion is the only one that matters.

Now I doubt this doctor intended all of that…at least I hope not. He could have been having a bad day. I have no idea. But I am not just an elbow. The elbow in question comes with a person…me. And I need help. Seeing a doctor when you’re in a lot of pain, or there’s a problem…or both, is a very vulnerable position to be in. I was there because I needed you to help me.

I came to you sad and scared and I took the risk of sharing that with you. I came to you vulnerable. Don’t send me away. Don’t get me out of your office as fast as you can. Don’t mock me by imitating what my arm will be like without a joint…flailing it around, as you speak to me like I’m crazy. Understand that my pain must be fucking awful if I’m willing to consider such a drastic last resort.

When I come to you and tell you who I am, listen to me. And when I share my pain, believe me. I’m taking a risk to tell you…don’t make we regret it. Because then my pain will go back underground and remain buried until I’m willing to take another risk, if I ever am. Don’t teach me it’s not safe to trust.

In the end what matters is how we love people. Love the people in your life who are in pain. Believe them. Listen to them. Divine is the task to ease pain. Let’s ease each other’s pain…that is divine.

A New Plan

~ Kai Raines ~ Leave a comment

You know when you sit down to write your blog or finish it, and you have a plan…a perfectly good plan. Maybe even an interesting plan (you hope)…and instead of following the plan, which is what you’ve focused on, your writing takes you here….

When I was 29, I was in the middle of a divorce. My husband at the time had informed me he was gay…well, that makes it sound like we sat down and talked about it. He informed me by having affairs. Although he said a one-night stand was not an affair. I’m not sure the label really mattered. We were in a marriage counselors office, and the pastor of our church was there with us. I don’t remember why he was there, but he was a friend. The counselor began the session by asking a question, “Can we all agree that at this point (fill in name here) has not acted on his feelings?” I said yes right away. I can’t remember if my husband said yes or nothing. When she got to the pastor, he said he couldn’t answer the question. This is where you’d inject the Debbie Downer music. Seriously, where does a counseling session go after that. I don’t remember anything anyone said the rest of the hour. On the way home he confirmed that he had in fact had an affair…or one night stand or whatever the fuck you want to call it. He didn’t volunteer the information, but he did answer me honestly when asked.

Our separation began that day. I told him he had to go until he decided what he wanted. He didn’t think he wanted to be married anymore…at least not to me. Now if you’re thinking, “They’re both gay?” That’s true we are. I’ve written about it before. Look at my blog post “Gay by Design” and you’ll get your questions answered…or email me. I won’t go back through the whole story now because that’s not where I’m headed…at least I don’t think so. I’ve been surprised once already today.

So, we separated. He, thinking this was a short-term problem, started sleeping on the couch at his office. It was a family run business, and his mom was his boss…and a lovely person. I don’t know why he thought this would be a quick reconciliation, but he did. I was at home with a 4-year-old, a 2-year-old, and a 4-month-old infant. So, I was bored. Lol…that would be hysterical, right!?

All of this was taking place in Colorado. I graduated from the University of Colorado, got married, and then made my home there. I always said Chicago was a good place to be from…and I was. I went to junior high and high school in Naperville, the fastest growing suburb of Chicago at the time. Before my wedding, my parents moved back to St. Louis, where my sister and I were born and where my parents grew up. Now the scene is set….

So, I was talking to my mom one day…on the phone of course…and I was stressed. Have you ever noticed how all your children need you NOW as soon as you pick up the phone? It’s a law of nature. I don’t remember what we were talking about, but my mom wanted me to move back to St. Louis and live with them. She wanted me to move “home.” I told her that Colorado was my home now and that I wasn’t going to move. I would not take my kids away from their dad…plus it seemed like a bad idea, although I know she was offering me help. I said no and she said, “That’s okay. You won’t make it out there by yourself and you’ll end up back here.” Excuse me, what the fuck did you just say? That was what I thought but I said nothing. That moment is seared into my memory, so I feel confident that this was her exact quote. Need I say this was not the best time of my life.

I was stunned. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say. In my mind I wondered if she wanted me to fail. And why would she? I got off the phone fast. I was devastated. Who says that to their daughter? Their daughter going through a divorce with 3 children under the age of 5? Why would she say that to me? My self-confidence was already at an all time low. And this wasn’t just about me. I had 3 little precious humans looking to me for security and answers to why daddy didn’t want to be married anymore. They depended on me to make everything okay for them even after their world was turned upside down. If I was okay, they knew they’d be okay. I was about as far from okay as you can be but my 3 little babies depending on me was more than enough motivation. Children take their cues from us, so I needed to fake it until I really was okay again.

So, we survived and lived happily ever after…yay. That’s not the point of the story. I’ve been reading about trauma and core language…as in what your core beliefs are that you communicate to yourself. Turns out I have a core message rumbling around in this head telling me that I won’t make it. I’ll never make it…I will always fail. At what specifically? Everything. The things that make you “successful.” In my family, a career and money were the main factors in success. A job people would ohhhh and ahhhh at and enough money to set yourself apart from others…providing a feeling of superiority. Being a “have” and not a “have not.”

Divorced with 3 babies…not a “have” for sure. A degree in psychology…but I “don’t know anything about psychology.” A master’s degree in counseling…but that wasn’t from a “real” school. A child protection worker…let someone else do that. Law degree…check. (I got one). A lawyer representing abused and neglected children…was I afraid to make money? I never even mentioned my last master’s degree. No point. Developed and ran a mindfulness program for young children…a what? So many fails. So many “not enoughs” … not even close.

I’ve heard the definition of sin as “missing the mark.” I think that may be the definition of my life according to my parents, not the sin part, but always missing the mark. Never quite got it right. Never making it…according to them.

But here’s the thing, my thoughts, my actions, my beliefs, my feelings are mine. All mine. They are my choices. No one else makes those choices for me. So, when I hear negative messages about myself, I have a choice…believe it or ignore it. Now when I was younger, it didn’t feel like much of a choice. Kids, even adults, believe what their parents tell them…because parents are supposed to know. Right? It took a long time to learn that just because they said something and they believed it didn’t make it true. It makes it their opinion. That’s all. Certainly, they’re entitled to their opinion…I wish they had not shared them so freely.

But now, now I’m a grown ass women (as my daughter loves to say) and I make my own choices. I decide what I believe about me…not my parents, not anyone else. Even though my parents are dead I still hear their voices in my head. Repeating messages of the past. The question now is how I respond to those voices, theirs and others. Everyone has an opinion. If I go along blindly with whatever the opinion of the day is about me then I abdicate my responsibility to myself. That would be failing…not making it…not succeeding. My success is not something I owe anyone, except myself. And I am the only one who knows what success looks like for me.

We become what we believe…what we think. With our thoughts we create the world. That’s why individuals can experience the same event and each interpret it differently and respond to it differently. We see differently because we think differently. We see differently because the framework through which we see the world and make sense of it is unique to each of us. We all have a story of what is real or not real, true or false, accepted or rejected. Everything we see, hear, feel, or experience goes through that story…the narration of our life…according to us.

I can be taught to believe certain things. I can be told all sorts of stories. And I can experience a lifetime of challenges or successes. Ultimately, the only thing that’s real and true for me is what I tell myself. What I believe is what I make real. That is what is true for me. I am the only person with the power to change the story that I have created about my life. Only me. I created it. I can change it. It is a tremendous act of self love to tell myself the truth…to tell yourself the truth. It requires awareness on my part. To know myself well enough to know what’s true. And the wisdom to know that what’s true today may not be true tomorrow…because I am always changing. You are always changing.

I want to be more…more kind, compassionate, loving, understanding, flexible, open, present, aware. I want that for me. I want that for you. Because in the end all that matters is how we love people. Love yourself enough to know yourself. Love other people enough for them to feel safe in sharing who they are. And believe them when they show you. Whatever the question is, love is the answer…always.

Missed Opportunities

~ Kai Raines ~ Leave a comment

I was talking to my sister the other day, and I don’t remember why, but she asked me if I remembered a book we had as kids that was about a girl who wanted to be a ballet dancer. She wasn’t able to be a dancer because she had some sort of health problem. My sister didn’t remember the health problem…I didn’t remember the book. That is until she described a page where the girl was kneeling on the coach and looking out the window as her friends rode their bikes. But she couldn’t join them. I remember that one image. I remember that she was sad.

My sister wondered why my mom would have picked that book for us. The 60’s was not exactly the age of disability awareness and inclusion. I don’t think she was a champion of disability rights. Or that she was particularly sensitive to the needs of the disabled. She used to refer to my dad as a “cripple” …sooo…. However, my mom had a heart problem from complications of rheumatic fever as a child. She had a damaged valve and because of that she was limited on her physical activity as a child.

So, I wonder, could she have given us the book as a window into her life as a child? I don’t have any idea…and I never will. If she was sharing herself with us, she needed to provide more information. I’m guessing for my sister and I it was an interesting book, and we had varying degrees of sadness for the little girl. My sister would have been the one to remember the ending, but she doesn’t. It may remain a mystery…unless I track down the book. Look out google.

My mom loved sports. She liked football and college basketball, but she LOVED baseball. She loved the St. Louis Cardinals. We lived in Chicago when I was young, and I remember going to Cardinals v Cubs double headers as a kid. My mom was an encyclopedia of baseball facts. She remembered games, players, coaches, managers, owners, playoffs, trades, botched calls, and specific plays. She was a wealth of knowledge. I remember Ozzie Smith because he was my favorite Cardinal. And hot dogs were the best at a baseball game…kind of grosses me out now but I was young. For my mom’s 90th birthday we took her to a Cardinals game against the Rays, here in Florida, and she had a hot dog…mustard, relish, and onion. She was happy.

My mom would have loved to play sports, but she couldn’t because of her heart. When she was young there were not many options for girls. Schools didn’t have competitive teams. She might have been happy to play baseball on the playground with the boys, but she couldn’t. She must have been so frustrated. I also love sports. My opportunities to play were nothing like today but I played basketball, softball, and swam competitively. I can’t imagine what I would have done without those sports. I did play football with the boys in the backyard, and I had a basketball hoop that I was at all the time. I wanted to be Oscar Robertson. There were no women players for me to look up to at the time. I would have given anything to play in the WNBA.

Maybe my mom identified with that little girl in the book. Always being the one on the inside looking out. Wanting so much but never having the chance. Maybe that’s why she bought it for us…because she was that girl.

When I graduated from law school my mom told me she always wanted to be a lawyer. What?! I never knew that. I don’t remember her ever talking about a career she wanted. I figured she wanted to be a mom…and to devote herself to her amazing daughters. Right?! She told me she always wanted kids. My dad said if it wasn’t for him, they would not have had any children. I don’t know what was true, and I never will.

I worry that my mom felt like her life was filled with missed opportunities. Or that it was filled with second choices…or third choices. I guess I don’t need to worry now but it’s sad. It’s sad to think of all the frustration she must have felt. It’s sad to be one of the daughters who may not have been her first choice. And it’s sad she didn’t fight for herself. I know opportunities were not the same but there were schooling options for her, especially as we got older. She had choices. They may have been limited but she had them. I wonder why she didn’t advocate for herself. Maybe she did and I just don’t know. She was pretty vocal about what she felt she deserved and didn’t get. Or in what ways other people didn’t give her what she wanted, so I feel like I would have heard.

I wonder what it would be like to feel like your life was a missed opportunity because there was so much you wanted but it was all just out of reach…and you believed there was nothing you could do about it. I don’t really know. I have limitations in my life due to disability and chronic pain, but I don’t feel like I’ve missed out on life. I’ve been married (more than once), had children, gone to school, earned advanced degrees, experienced multiple careers, and met many wonderful people. There are things I cannot do but those are not the things that define my life. My life is full of experiences and opportunities and lots of people I really love. There may be things I would have done differently, but I consider my life well lived…well living…I’m not dead yet.

I’m sad for my mom today. Sad to think she didn’t have the chance to reach her full potential. Or to become fully who she was meant to be. And sad because she missed the chance to feel proud of herself. Proud that she had done something that really meant a lot to her, because being a wife and mom were not those things. I think in the end those missed opportunities weighed on her…on her self-esteem.

All that makes me eager to follow my dreams, even when they seem like a fairy tale. To take chances and try new things. To bring awareness to all the areas of my life. To live intentionally. To make my choices where I have them and not be content to let life happen to me. Seize the day and all that shit. And to love freely, fully, generously, and always. Because in the end all that matters is how we love people. The lovers, the dreamers, and me.

Becoming Who I Am

~ Kai Raines ~ Leave a comment

I’ve been thinking a lot about purpose…my purpose, other people’s purpose, the country’s purpose, the world…so much thinking going on in this head of mine…all the damn time. I believe that my purpose is to become who I am. That’s my mission. Become fully who I am. I think that’s everyone’s purpose. Their personal purpose. People can have other purposes other goals. Purposes bigger than themselves. My beyond myself purpose, as in what I’m meant to do, is to help people heal, have healthy relationships, and become the best version of themselves. To use my pain to help others in pain. To turn traumas into triumphs…that’s super corny. How about…to use every experience, good or bad, for an evolution. An evolution into our complete and beautiful selves. Life can be so hard but even in the difficulties there are opportunities to learn and grow…for transformation. Like a caterpillar reduced to goo in order to become what they are meant to be, a butterfly. The butterfly is in there…waiting to become. We are all waiting to become.

Now to become who I am, I have to know who I am. I often say that in order to be loved we have to be known. And to be known we have to be seen. We don’t let people see who we are unless we trust them. Trust that they can accept what they see and that they can handle us with gentleness…like you would a baby. When I worked in child protection I had to remove a baby from his mom because of substance abuse. The mom brought her son into me voluntarily because she could she knew…she understood what her son needed. While I was waiting for the foster parents, I held that infant in my arms. My workplace tended to be busy, kind of loud, and fast paced, but I couldn’t be any of those things with an infant in my arms. I told coworkers we should all hold babies everyday. We couldn’t hurry or raise our voices, if we had to focus on the baby first. Everything else would be secondary. Everyone who worked there would have been less stressed and a better human because of it.

Now back to my point…although I do love babies. That is not my point. Just as we want to be handled by other people tenderly and gently, like a baby, we need to offer that same softness to ourselves. I never want to scare or startle a baby. It would be cruel to make them cry intentionally. But I can be cruel with myself. I am not going to let anyone else see me and know me if they are cruel to me. I will keep myself hidden and you will see a shell of who I am. I will protect myself. I do the same thing dealing with myself. I don’t always see fully or know myself because I am harsh with me. I am impatient. I expect myself to know everything and be perfect. How’s that going for me? Not great. But what would I see with tenderness? With unconditional acceptance and love? If I handled my fragile heart like I did that baby in my arms.

I love to read, and I am usually reading 4-5 books at a time. I have categories of what I read, health, politics/history, spirituality, abuse recovery/personal growth, and something just for pleasure. Well…I read all the books for pleasure. For a long time, I thought I’d come across THE book, the one that would answer all my questions and make me feel whole and complete. It would fill in the holes I feel in my life…not my life so much as my person. Gaps in my development…gaps I perceive. Holes where I feel something lacking…something missing.

I have not found that one book. The one with the answers. The one that shows me how to put the puzzle of me together into a final picture. Nothing more to do because it’s complete…I am complete. All the pieces are there, and they fit so neatly. I will never find that because no such book exists. The answers for me and about me, are already here. They are in me.

When I read books for personal growth I am not putting something into me to make me better. Make me more. I am awakening something already there. Something hidden or buried. Unattended. Neglected. I am realizing nothing needs to be added for me to be complete. Something needs to be freed. So much of who we are gets buried. Buried by time. Buried by trauma and pain. Buried by loss, fear, or neglect. Or by refusal…refusal to accept or understand. Or buried by success, wealth, power. Whatever we experience that causes us to forget or reject who we are.

In our search for ourselves we take on false identities because we learned from an early age that what we see before us is not enough. Not good enough. Not smart enough. Not healthy, skinny, funny, determined, capable, or whatever enough. We seek an image of who we think we should be. Who we believe we need to be. An image forced upon us. I cannot find me in a coerced image. I will not love me if I don’t know me. And I will not know me if I don’t see me. I cannot see me as long as I force an ideal upon myself. An ideal I know innately is not me…and never will be. I am seen when I allow my broken and beautiful self to be uncovered. My perfectly imperfect me.

Love demands that we become who we are. Who we are meant to be. To come fully into our isness…or my meness. To fully inhabit the person that is me. We must see ourselves as we are…all the damage and imperfections. See ourselves with kindness. With compassion. See so we can know…so we can love. See without the external cosmetics I use to disguise the flaws…the parts that scare me. Me without fear. Me without conditions. Me with complete acceptance. Me in all my messiness. The broken and beautiful me. The me that steps out of the goo of transformation…and is ready to fly. The freedom found in just being me.

We already have everything we need. We can stop the search. Relax and appreciate the goo. Because in the end all that matters is how we love people…that includes ourselves. In fact, it begins with ourselves. Let’s give ourselves a big helping of love and see what we can see.

Three Things

~ Kai Raines ~ Leave a comment

Now here it is, already 2025…20 days in and I am still not ready. The year went so fast and so many things did not go how I planned…I hate it when that happens…and so I have been dragging my ass into 2025, a little bit kicking and screaming. My resistance reminds me of a quote I read, from someone, that said, “I never let go of anything that didn’t have claw marks on it.” That is an exact description of me…written by someone who does not even know me. If you read my blogs, you are nodding your head right now because you know. You know it’s true. If you don’t follow me, see what you’re missing? Also, it’s time to start…Now! Please.

One of the things that did not turn out the way I planned was the presidential election. I was ready for a President Harris. I feel like I am living in backwards world, where being a dishonest, arrogant, hateful, convicted felon paves the way for you to become President and being an honest, compassionate, and intelligent woman gets you nowhere. So, as the inauguration is taking place, I am reminded of 3 things I did immediately after the results of the election:

I joined the ACLU and signed up to volunteer.

I bought all my grandchildren, (ages 11 to 20) a copy of the US Constitution and told them to read it. I instructed them to learn what their rights are because they may not have them much longer.

Finally, I told my son and his fiancé to get married now. They want to have a big, beautiful wedding and that is a celebration I am eager to be a part of. Planning that takes time…and I’m not sure how much time there is after January 20th. I suggested they get the marriage license now and get legally married while they still can. The supporters of Project 2025, with the cooperation of the Supreme Court, aim to reverse marriage equality. To which I’ve been known to say, “Just try and get my marriage license from me.” I don’t think you can un-marry people or nullify marriages…not legally anyway. But that may not matter. Clarence Thomas has already said that marriage equality needs to be “revisited” by the high court. There is an Idaho case working its way to the Supreme Court right now that seeks to redefine marriage as between one man and one woman. That is happening as I write.

Of my many grandchildren, one said she would keep the constitution in her purse, and one sat down and started reading it…I don’t play favorites but come on, he sat down and started reading immediately. I am a proud grandmother.

Most importantly, my son and his now husband got legally married on December 29th! I am so happy for them and so relieved. I’m not sure if straight people can understand how important it is to be legally married. If getting married was a given for you, I guess you might take it for granted. But if you have been denied that right, it is huge…HUGE! To be recognized as a married person…no special rights, just equality. It is something I did not think I would see in my lifetime. To have your marriage vows honored for their importance in your life and in our society. Being a family…legally a family. That is important shit right there. That is a right I fought for and that is a right I will continue to fight for. Maybe the President will find out that someone in his life, that he loves, is gay and he will reconsider. Or maybe he will grow a heart…him, the Tin Man and the Grinch. Maybe he will learn some kindness and equity. Maybe he will grow to see beyond dollar signs and what benefits him and his cohort of billionaires. Maybe, maybe, maybe…unlikely, I fear.

So where am I going with all of this? I wish I knew. I am tired, frustrated, and terrified. The future seems more unknown than normal…and more out of control. So, what to do, besides meditate, pray, volunteer, give money, educate myself and others, and hope. It seems like conditions are ripe in this country for hate, violence, domination, and fascism to run rampant over the rights of the non-elite. Even President Biden warned of a growing oligarchy right here at home…just like other autocracies. Fuck.

We all know the saying, “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” In some ways this is killing me…killing all of us…our collective spirits for sure. What I have always believed about this country and the rights guaranteed to us in our constitution has been completely blow the fuck up. And although they, the new autocracy, may not see it now, this will destroy their supporters as well. I fear we are all headed over a cliff, many voluntarily, and most leaving claw marks as they try to resist…as I try to resist. This is a proper place for claw marks. You cannot destroy other people and be unaffected. You cannot create bigotry, fear, and hatred and remain undamaged…or untwisted. And there are some fucking twisted people running things now.

Although I do believe that difficult circumstances can make us stronger, I prefer to believe that what doesn’t kill us makes us kinder…or it can make us kinder. We must cooperate to become kinder…we have to learn from our circumstances and allow ourselves to seek kindness as a character trait. I must understand, we must understand, that what we do affects other people and the choices others make impact us too. We do not live or move or act in a bubble. Our actions have consequences. Our inaction has consequences as well.

I have been re-reading The Four Agreements” by Don Miguel Ruiz. In the book he discusses the term “domestication” which seems particularly relevant right now. From birth we are taught what to believe and how to act. We are rewarded for “good” behavior and punished for “bad.”  We learn to seek rewards and fear punishment. We learn our lessons and bury our own opinions or beliefs. We are afraid of the consequences of disagreeing or forging our own path. And so, tamed and trained we become compliant. Silent and compliant.

If ever there was ever a time in our history not to blindly follow, comply or agree, it is surely today. Today is the day to wake up. Wake up to the new form of domestication we are experiencing in subtle and not so subtle ways. The push to doubt what we see with our own eyes. To accept lies as the truth, “alternative facts” right? To hate anyone who is not like “us.” “Us” being white, wealthy, heterosexual, Christian, republican, and if you are male, all the better.

As I have said before I am trying to live “off the edge.” The edge being a chronic, low-level anxiety that seems to be my neutral…waiting for the next catastrophic or traumatizing event to occur. Today is not the day to lose my feel for the edge. For me, our nation is on the edge. The edge of what exactly I’m not sure…although it does not feel like anything good.

The best I have to offer myself or anyone else today is to take a deep breath. Breathe deeply and feel yourself grounded wherever you are. In this one moment, in that one breath, I am okay. For one breath you are okay. That is all we have, one breath at a time…for the next 4 years. We must wake up and remain awake even when other forces strengthen their attempts at domestication. No one gets to decide what I believe. They may have when I was younger but not now. I am who I am. I believe what I know to be true…what I see with my own eyes and what I hear with my own ears, what I investigate, study, and learn. Guided by my spirituality and the golden rule.

I cannot come off the edge today, or even in the near future, but I can remain attentive and aware of what is happening…in me, around me, and in the world. I can be aware and engaged. I can continue to breathe and be engaged…even when it’s hard…even when it sucks. That is all I have for now…breathe, stay grounded, stay engaged, and most importantly, allow this world to make me kinder…to make us kinder. Even when it seems impossible. Because in the end all that matters is how we love people. Choose love…every time. Love will win. It always does. And be kind…please. Now more than ever.