Thursday, April 26, 2018

Art of Trash 2018 Wailuku Maui Hawaii

First show I have entered, and Matt made in a piece too. Really neat pieces; so eclectic and creative.

Saturday, April 21, 2018


In February of this year I had three psychotic episodes in an eight day span seemingly out of nowhere. It was the beginning of the track and field season for the high school team I help coach, and I was out for a month. Now a couple of months later with the help of my boyfriend, his family, my therapist and psychologist I have uncovered the truth of why this was happening to me, but I still don’t know what is happening to me.  I am back to the property management and landscaping job now, and back to the track but it’s one day at a time. I live on Maui, and I am on Geodon an antipsychotic medication (since Feb. 22nd) that will keep me from going back into a manic episode. It helps living upcountry at 2,500 ft elevation with an amazing view of the island, and the ocean, but while writing this I noticed the time, and had to go take the 40 mg prescribed to me by my doctors. Also, as I write this I am feeling those familiar signs of my anxiety when talking about the abuse that I experienced as a child in my home up on the hill in Santa Fe. My quads start to twitch, my palms start to sweat, and I feel the bile in my stomach exiting through my throat. I was molested by my adopted dad when I was three years old. I was born in 1976, and adopted shortly after. I was born in Albuquerque. My adopted mother always told me she never had a baby shower, so when they picked me up from the hospital they had to run to the market to pick up baby formula. Why would she always tell me that story? A lot of  the stories my entire adopted family on both sides told me were lies, or are at least tainted, because they all knew on some level what was happening to me and did nothing. When I was eight years old away at Girl Scout camp in Colorado, I had the first of several seizures. Now I believe it could have been a coping mechanism of some sort, or a result of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) perhaps. I would get as stiff as a board, and clench my jaw, sometimes biting my cheek or tongue. The seizures continued through my seventeenth birthday (a total of 5-7) with no explanation or care from my adopted parents on the situation. They had a painting commissioned of my brain, that was very distancing. I had an EEG, and MRI done and was told I didn’t have epilepsy (which has come into question again now) and to get a better diet, and better sleep. None of this was done in those rebellious years, and because my parents didn’t trust me they never helped me to get better. As a family it was decided I see a therapist at Santa Fe High. I wasn’t prepared for the work that needed to be done. I was given no tools from my adopted parents. It was a way to get out of class. I started to ask questions about the disfunction in my adopted dads family, projecting my own problems on them and no one would talk to me about anything. I remember asking my adopted dad’s younger brother once, “What happened?”, and he replied, “Nothing happened...”. I know now it was not just once that my adopted dad touched me, and over and over my adopted mom did nothing to help me. Even her family did nothing but lie to me, by not talking to me about the abuse they kept a secret from me, all the time knowing something was wrong. I am still in the discovery phase of my illness, and have to wait to see if my insurance will cover an MRI. My referral is pending to see a neuropsychologist to take what my neurologist referred to as the super SAT. What is so awful about reliving all of this now at 42 years old is the utter confusion about why this happened to me. I know now I am not responsible for the sexual abuse, and I have pardoned those people that abused me by removing them from my life in November of 2017. All the time wasted being a spoiled brat from Santa Fe; an only adopted child, has landed me right back into all those dark nights in the house I was raised in. I know now it is through movements like #metoo that I can empower myself and get my life back. I have also called the hotline to speak my truth in order to deal with this so I can never forget, but let go and forgive those people that were participants in my sexual abuse. Right now I am in the process of leaving what they did behind. Every day, I have to just let it be in the past. When I can let it go, then I will be able to forgive them, but I am not there yet, and my journey will never end because I too am a victim of sexual abuse. #metoo

Thursday, April 19, 2018

The Hapalua-Hawaii’s Half Marathon

The Hapalua Hawaii’s Half Marathon was an incredible event. I reached several goals: I started, kept running when passing the finish line, and finished strong and smiling. This is the beginning of a collage I am making that when finished will also include Matt’s number and some other important goodies that he got as a member of Team Hawaii and The Chase the race within the race at The Hapalua. More on that over at our running website.
It was empowering to take on this challenge, and I just can not thank my boyfriend Matt enough for encouraging me to take on the 13.1 mile challenge about four weeks after my first manic episode on February 15th. I love you Matt and thank you for all the therapy and support hat you continue to give to me. This collage grew to include Matt's number and some of his special gear as member of #teamhawaii2018, and as part of the media too.