Cherishing Christmas

This is my last blog of the year. I want nothing more than to put down my phone, step away from my desk, and cherish every moment of the holiday. When I come home tonight we will go shopping for stocking stuffers, bake some more cookies, and well, do everything I have no childhood memory of doing. 

I was once afraid of becoming a parent, but now I laugh at myself. What was I so afraid of? Being a mom brings me more delight and joy than I ever could have imagined. And even in these very early months and years of my son's life, I live out the moments of childhood I wished I had. Only now, it is so much more cherished, so much more embraced, so much more... because it is a moment I intentionally give to him and share with him. Merry Christmas Everyone.

Why one family should stay together

It seems I spend a lot of time thinking about my choice to leave friends and family (of the toxic variety) behind and while that adds vigor to my position, it can take it's toll. Today, I switch gears. for the sake of privacy I will not share too many details, but I do really want to share a story of why a family (a specific family) should stay together.

So I have this friend.... we used to work together. He is what made our awful job so fun and entertaining. My husband and I remain friends with him to this day. We got to know each other pretty well. Including things about our families. I used to joke with him that he married (and divorced, but still very much loved) my mother. The stories we would tell each other it could have been the same person. They had a small brady bunch of four altogether. Some before meeting, some together, and some after. However, through all their drama, all four kids have remained together. Siblings by marriage and by blood, they are all connected in one way or another.

We know the adage, it comes in threes, I hope that is true. A family can only endure so much tragedy. My dear friend was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis last year, he has suffered its progression ever since.  I will add that even though he suffers from MS he has amazing support for himself and his children.Then, not too long ago, their children's mother passed away. Though they had their ups and downs, I know that he only endured their relationship out of true love for her and their children (all of them). And now comes number three, In the aftermath of this tragedy their family finds itself in a custody battle.

My friend does not fight this battle for himself. He fights this battle for his four children. The other two parties that want custody, do not want custody of all four of them, just this one, or those two. It makes me so angry to see people be so selfish, to not consider what they threaten to take away from these children. In their time of grieving, do they not need each other? Their brothers, their sisters, their father?

I tend to stay out of causes and/or politics, I rarely speak my mind on such controversial things. Though believe you me I do have an opinion. But today, I see a dear friend in dire need, and in his four children, I see myself. As I know what it is to grow up with a mother just like the one that they had. I wonder what my life would have been if the same had happened to me, if then I was taken away from my brother and sister, taken from my father. I can't imagine the worry that has befallen their shoulders. What concern they must bear, for themselves, their siblings, and their father.

So today, I do speak on behalf of another, in hopes that my voice will carry their plea far. That help will come to them. That these children can take a sigh of relief and know the battle is over and they will remain together.

http://www.gofundme.com/7376j0?fb_action_ids=10203399222682081&fb_action_types=og.shares

Thanksgiving and Toxic Family

This weekend brought out the first sunlight I have seen in a couple of weeks. It is funny how the weather can effect our mood so much. Not that I have been a grump for two weeks, but my spirits are definitely lifted by the returning sunlight.

With Thanksgiving just around the corner, I tend to dwell on the past more than I like to admit. My extended family is quite divided. Though I am very happy to spend this Thanksgiving with my family (the ones that still talk to each other) I get lost in thought over the family that will not be attending. Every year I wonder if someone will return to our lives, and every holiday season shop for their Christmas gift even if I won't be buying it.

Holidays can do that to us I suppose. I wonder, since I think of lost family so much this time of year, if they, too, get caught up in the same whirlwind of memories. Our family has gone its separate ways for good reason. I do believe that not having some people come is for the best. Though, I know I may be judged for feeling this way, I can only say that walking away from family is never an easy decision. So when that decision is made I think people who have not been in such a position should just feel lucky that it isn't them that had to make it.

What I do know, and what I have learned is that I must hold onto the family that I have with extra thanks. That I intend on raising my children with the intent that they will out live me and will someday only have each other. I can only instill to them the importance of communicating through their differences and finding love and acceptance of each other at the end of every disagreement. I can only imagine how my family relationships would have been if we had such habits ourselves.

A toxic relationship can be a friend, a spouse, a parent, anyone. And it is never okay. Whether you are bonded by blood or not, Relationships of any kind should be built on respect, boundaries, and love. This Thanksgiving I will be sitting down with my family. Family that loves and respects me, and I couldn't be happier. And as usual, when my thoughts drift to those that are not attending, I will send a good thought. I picture them surrounded by people who love them and hope that they feel as grateful for it as I do.

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow

This week's snowfall makes me reminisce about where I grew up. Mostly, thinking of how warm California is in the winter. I have no problem with a place that doesn't snow during the winter season. I do remember that it rained. Our little canyon would get mud slides that took out entire sections of our road. It could be a couple of weeks before the county came up to make repairs. 

Everyone who lived up in the woods had a piece of equipment. The neighbor down the road had a tractor, my dad had a dump truck, etc. They would go out themselves and dig out people's homes and clear the roads. I didn't realize it then, but as an adult I realize, they must have had a blast. I can think of my husband if it were him up there, just how much fun he would be having. He gets excited when I get him a small power tool, imagine a dump truck. 

To this day, I love heavy rainfall. I became accustom to the seclusion of where I was raised. Heavy rain meant the terrain would change and give a whole new experience on my next walk in the woods. I remember where  a dry creek bed was and how it would would become a stream if enough rain fell. Rain was such a peaceful time. 

Where we live now, the rain is short lived. For most of the year, it is fairly dry. This week Idaho was dumped on by record breaking snowfall. Where we may have only received a few inches (or none at all since it is still November) we received 10 inches in a single day. (And everyone says we have global warming, are we sure it isn't an ice age coming, because it feels that way) Considering the conditions, I decided to stay home with my son and stay in for a snow day. He had his first hot chocolate. I am pretty sure the word "cocoa" is the fastest word he has picked up so far. All day, "more cocoa" 

I realize from my own childhood that memories are definitely made. I think that explains why I lack a lot of memory from when I was younger. I wasn't interacted with much by my stay-at-home mother. Inside or out, I spent it mostly alone. If I was inside I had to be in my room, I only remember being out of my room when my father came home. I wonder what my son will remember when he is older. Will it be the hot cocoa? I know, I know he is 18 months old, but what if we started a tradition that the first day of snow always meant cocoa. I think that it is tradition that embeds the memory. So I decided immediately, when I saw the delight on his face with his first cup that I must make the tradition that the first snowfall will always have a cup a cocoa to go with it. To ensure he remembers. 

This weekend, I will turn his little red sled into a one-dog-open slay . A harness for our dog and a leash to the sled should make for a great time in the snow. Especially, since this weekend we are getting dumped on again by another storm and we will not be going anywhere. 

Bullying Awareness Week~ How I survived being bullied

This week is Anti Bullying week. I can't say just how happy I am that there is a time in the school year that dedicates itself to this awareness. Though bullying still occurs, I like to think this is a step in the right direction. Back when I was in school there wasn't anything like this. The policies were not enforced like they are today. I feel more confident about my child going to school now then I would have ten years ago. 

I was bullied relentlessly when I was a kid. Constantly picked on and made to be an outcast. In elementary school I lived up in the hills. I had limited neighbors and even few neighborhood kids. School was my only place to socialize with others, because when I got home at the end of the day, there was no one to interact with but myself. I do feel that this socially stunted me in some ways. Also, the kids I grew up with had a negative connotation of where my home was. It was assumed that I was poor. 

In addition, due to my home life circumstances I took advantage of the only time I had with other kids. I was definitely the chatty one. At least, in the beginning of elementary school. Which of course landed me in a lot of trouble and also trouble for the person I was talking to. Somehow at the beginning of every school year (like day one) I was set aside from the class from first to fifth grade. All the desks in a cube, I was the odd one out, set to the back, or front, or directly in the aisle with a collection of students on each side. Imagine the impact that has not just on the child being set a part from others, but also the impression it would make on the same students year after year. What does that tell them? 

It wasn't until I was an adult, it casually came up in conversation with my mother. Who then, after all those years, told me it was she who in fact went to each and every teacher and told them to segregate me from my class. All the days I came home crying for being teased over just that and she knew all along. I felt the knife go in my back. 

We moved mid junior high. Living in a small town in Idaho was no easier. Although, I will say that I was very optimistic to start over. Needless to say, the damage was done. My concept of making friends was skewed. Also, being in such a small town, cliches had been formed and bonded well before my arrival. Outsiders, especially Californians, were not welcomed. 

Bullying continued, not just relentlessly mean girls, but boys, too. I can remember being "white washed" by five boys a grade up from me my freshman year. White washing, for those who are unfamiliar, is being shoved in the snow and kicked around unable to get up and get away. They added de-pantsing me to white washing. Making it very cold and humiliating. 

No one stepped in. No one said stop. Blank mindless bystanders. My mother's solution was to move me to a small private school. I was safe from kids bullying me, but is there ever a place without a bully? I have discovered the answer is "no". My bully at this school (which was really a double wide of about thirty kids from k-12) was the owner of the school herself. A tiny, yet nasty and vile, woman. The things I would say to her now, well am sure, may have already been said. At least I hope so. 

Okay, my bully ranting is almost over. I just want to get to the good part and probably the most controversial part of this post. That is, how I survived being bullied, what I know now that I will pass down to my son long before he encounters the same problems.  I eventually transferred back to the town high school. Again, running from a bully, this time my mother had maybe the best idea and took the best action as a parent she ever did. I only wish it had happened sooner. 

She enrolled me in boxing. Now that's not so crazy these days, but this is 1996 mind you. It was unheard of back then. I was only supposed to learn a few moves, but I fell madly in love with it. I could take a punch to the nose without even a flinch, and it turns out, I was a lot stronger than I realized. To keep up with boxing I made an outrageous move, according to my high school principal anyway. I joined the boy's wrestling team. Even more, I signed up for boy's weight lifting. I became the strongest, toughest girl I knew. 

What's funny, I never got to put it into practice. I know most people may read this and think that I resolved violence and bullying with more violence and bullying, but it is quite the opposite. Just the knowledge that I could fight back gave me a confidence and warded off all future attacks. No one touched me ever again. Granted I didn't all of a sudden get invited into a cliche or anything. But who wants friends like that anyways? 

Those days are long behind me, and as my book may indicate I still dealt with bullies into adulthood, but I'll be damned if anyone put their hands on me again. The truth is ever bully I encountered after that, though adulthood brings more psychological abuse, I fight. I fight back. I fight hard. 

What you do with your kids is your own decision to make. If you have a child who is being bullied, I just want to tell you, that enrolling them into something that teaches them that they are strong, they will stand a fighting chance. 

Tea & Poetry Book Club: Nina C. Palmer Takes a Journey Through The Trees

I don't know that I will ever grow accustomed to the praise I have received in the last year. Whether that praise be from family and friends, or complete strangers that took the time to look into what I have accomplished. I don't think that I want to either. There is a sense of humbleness that comes with doing something so vulnerable and displaying it for others to see and judge.

I can only say that I feel incredibly blessed to have received the support that I have thus far. Not that every attempt to reach out has been accepted. Plenty of poetry journals have rejected my submissions. I tell myself, that I haven't tried them all, that my voice, my work will find a home. Discouraging as it may be, it is days like today that take me just a little further into optimism.

Tea & Poetry Book Club is a great book club, composed of amazingly wonderful people. I feel very blessed today that they have featured my book on their Facebook, Twitter, and blog. When you take a chance on someone you give them hope. Today I have hope that my words will reach just a little further and hopefully speak to someone who needs to hear those words. I do not seek fame or fortune, only to have cleansed my soul of the torment I had carried with me throughout my life. Now that I have, I feel I know the way, the path that leads to the light. My hope is that Through The Trees guides others to the happiness that they deserve.

Special thanks to Tea & Poetry Book Club for an amazing feature of my book. You have humbled me with your kind words and I am forever grateful. Thank you.
Tea & Poetry Book Club: Nina C. Palmer Takes a Journey Through The Trees

The Poem That Inspired A Book

Falling in love can be terrifying, especially when we have come from heartache. Although, without that heartache could we truly appreciate or even simply recognize love at all? Life is about perspective. It can be difficult to change when our emotions seem to be fully in charge.

Perhaps this is where the saying "time heals all wounds" comes from. With given time, our emotions change and fade and lend way to a new perspective. This is certainly true for me. I have had my heart broken or at least I had thought so. I realize now mostly my hopes were dashed. I experienced great disappointments. The fact is with a little perspective you realize how wrong someone is for you. I would kick myself over how upset I would be over someone who clearly didn't feel the same way about me. Phsst, why bother with them? In fact, they did me a favor.

Enough disappointment can bring one into quite a pit of despair. Doubt and fear are strong adversaries to hope and courage. However, it is a choice. Down to the sheer chemistry of the matter, our emotions do not rule our thoughts. It's the other way around. What we think is what we eventually feel. That was an important lesson for me.

Hope is all one really needs and good perspective. I see now that my love is stronger than I thought it could be simply because of how much I appreciate how much I am loved. I only can love and appreciate this much because of the heartache I suffered in my past.

I hope that encourages someone to pick themselves up and press on with the hope that true love is just around the corner.

Fear

It seemed so long ago that I was afraid

Fear was my ruler and he was ruthless

It only took but a dashing man to my aid

To free my heart and it became boundless

And so I followed this dashing man

An adventure began at once

With all my courage I took his hand

And left ruthless fear in the dust

The deserted ruler left to demise

Over my shoulder he will sometimes leer

But I find these days I am more wise

No longer a stunned and frozen deer

I send him back with bark and bellow

To his dark and fruitless lands

The trail he leaves behind is yellow

Painted by the tail he drags

My dashing man still at my side

Together fear will not live here

For he is banished countrywide

In a land that will not be ruled by fear

To write about our journey or my journey?

So the month has begun and I have been trying to write a little something every day. I figure at some point (hopefully, this week) I will begin a rhythm with writing my next book. I look at my next book in two different ways, which may be the culprit for my writer's block. Reaching The Castle Wall is about the journey to finding true love.

On one hand, I can write about efforts I made to find prince charming, all the frogs I had to kiss. I do want to have some diversity in its content. I do not just want it to be love poems. I have found stirring up the heartache of the past to be rather difficult. I am in a very happy place and just can't seem to connect to those old feelings. I figure I can use actual fairy tales as a means to at least focus on empathizing with that heartache.

On the other hand, I could write about what happened when I found my prince charming, and our journey. He started as just a friend, and stayed just a friend (albeit, my very best friend) for about six years. Once we decided to be more, or more so, admitted we were in love, things moved very quickly after that. We figured dating was for people who didn't know each other and wanted to be sure they were right for each other. We already knew each other so very well. We had no doubt. A month later we bought a house together and about four months after that we were married. This June will be year five.

So I have a choice to make. I can either focus on writing about our journey, or I can dig into the past and write about my journey. In the meantime, I am composing a list of writing prompts. This book is to be based and inspired by actual fairy tales. Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, etc.... I won't write so much about the story of Rapunzel (for example) but perhaps how I relate to Rapunzel. I will reference a tall tower or a long braid, almost just hinting at who inspired the poem. Also, some of the keywords will simply be from that era kings, queens, crowns, dragons, moat, swords and armor.

I am open to suggestions if anyone has a favorite fairy tale or references I should consider (poison apple, glass slipper, golden thread, etc...) I am sure there are a number of words I am not even thinking of.

Like the oil painting above? There are a few more here, I got it from this site: http://www.buzzfeed.com/samimain/gorgeous-disney-ladies-as-if-they-were-oil-portraits#2qpit42

Halloween Traditions

Happy Halloween Everyone! The big day is here! I felt my page needed a little holiday update. I am so excited to dress up my little boy in his dragon costume. This will be the first year he can actually walk himself from house to house. Though he only knows about five words I am sure expressions will speak for themselves. A cutey like him is going to get a lot of candy. With my mother-in-law on candy duty, I will be able to walk the block as well and take lots of pictures.

So glad Halloween fell on a Friday. I usually work a half day from skipping lunch all week. There is a pot of soaking beans calling my name at home right now. I figure 1PM to 7PM is a good 6 hours of cooking and we should be able to enjoy a big bowl by the time trick or treating starts.

So today's question is: do I keep my bean stew recipe a secret or "spill the beans"? .... I've never been good at secrets. I just get too excited. My husband gets his Christmas presents the first week of December. So my beans, this will be year number three. How many years before you have a tradition?

Anyways, I take two bags of black beans and soak them overnight, then I rinse and drain them, refill the water and start the pot on the stove set to boil. I settle in a couple of good sized smoke ham hocks, chop up a whole red onion, once it hits a boil I reduce to simmer, and let is stew for hours.

Towards the end I add a few spices and flavors. A little Worcestershire sauce, tablespoon or so of minced garlic, salt, and pepper, all just to taste. This recipe is best kept simple. Oh, and one more thing, I buy a bag of bacon ends crisp them up and throw them on top of my bowl with a little shredded cheddar cheese. That's still simple right? I think so. Ham hock melted off the bone mixed into creamy black beans, there is nothing better on a cold Halloween night, or every night the next week after for that matter. After trick-or-treating we will fire up the fire pit and make some s'mores. Ending the perfect Halloween night.

I am going to do a slam :[

Well, it's official. I have signed up on nanowrimo.org with intent of writing quite a bit next month. Does poetry count for a month designated to novel writing? Probably not, but I think a goal of heavy writing all month is a good idea. It will be refreshing to really get into my current book. I gave myself a deadline for finishing. It has to be ready and published by Valentine's Day 2016. That gives me well over a year, to write, have it edited, some illustrations, and publish. I am excited to see what I come up with this time. Most days, I agree with the quote above. Everyone's poetry is so different from mine. I suppose we are all very different and it just seems like I stand out because it is my own writing.

At the co-book signing I shared the audience with two other writers. We all had a common thread in our writing but were all incredibly different in how we wrote and spoke. I know I haven't followed up on how my first signing went, that is simply because I didn't want to think about it till now. The truth is it was absolutely terrifying. I got myself so worked up with nerves, I am surprised I even got through it. I shook like a leaf, I had a hard time looking up at everyone. It was awful.

On the other hand, I had such support from my family. Sometimes putting yourself out there can really surprise you. They really came through for me.  I think my main issue wasn't just sitting in front of others and reading, it was the intro I had prepared. For the first time ever, I spoke openly about my childhood, about the verbal and emotional abuse I endured and recovered from. I didn't think that would be as difficult as it was. I wonder if there will always be a sense of shame that accompanies that history, or if I will ever truly just accept its happening and be able to speak about it as if I wasn't speaking about myself.... perhaps that is the key to future readings. Pretend I am talking about someone other than myself, but then what would happen to the emotion in the words I am reading?

I guess we will find out. I have decided that I will do a poetry slam in the next month. Listening to the other poet/author, who is a veteran when it comes to slams, I feel I have now an idea of the style and tempo that would be suited for such an event. I thought to myself as I listened to her, "I need something far more gritty than flowers and trees." I have had a little something I thought would be appropriate for a slam and after listening to her I think it will suit very well.

I look forward to your feedback....

It's titled "Triggered"

I doubt myself now

Seems my way is truly lost

For so long you told me who I was

And who I am to be today

I live in this doubt

I question everything I say and do

Nothing is without rhyme or reason

So few are moments of self acceptance

Who is this person you made me to be?

Tell Me! What did you want for me?

Was it truly just to serve you?

Indentured to your every need

Floundering without your voice

Slumped without your backbone

Is this really what you want for me?

To only live as you say

What mother wants this for her child?

What Queen births slaves?

The whip cracked along my back

And scars that still remain

My finger is always on the trigger

It seeks only you and I find you

In every person I meet

And they become my victim

I love them never as you did me

A true love as it is supposed to be

And yet I anticipate that you

Will come creeping out of their mouths

And I am always ready for you

With my finger on the trigger

And then it occurs-it happens

The moment when I think I see you

In an expression or a phrase

I hear your voice. I pull the trigger

…… And shot the one I love

He looks at me in shock

He is appalled that I could do such a thing

He is betrayed

And no longer knows me

I don’t see you now

Your face could not hold such hurt

As one who truly loved me

I only see the pain I caused the one I love

He was never you

Your voice, your way

Never came from him at all

It came from me

I aim with my finger on the trigger.