Supplies err.....Surprise!

Breakfast of Champions

Some much needed Blogging.....err.....Bonding

I was talking to my mother the other day on the phone.

"When are you going to post some pictures of our visit?"

Uhh......

Now.

Don't get me wrong, it's been on my mind since before my parents came to visit at Thanksgiving.

Life has just been Crazy.

So today I will tell you of the bonding my mother and I experienced while decorating a Gingerbread House.

(notice the meticulous detail)

That would be me....

err...

That would be mom......

Or maybe that's something called Genetics!

Being the wonderful Grandma that she is....

She drug my father to the store where I'm sure she showed him all kinds of things that she wanted to do with the kids.

She brought home a gingerbread house and a HUGE Coloring book.

Now...

Grandma knows me well,

And she knows that I am easily stressed out by things that create big messes

(It's practically mandatory that you have two adults per kid when doing such a project.)

And bear sat next to me as we squeezed icing and poured sprinkles.

And Little Bear began decorating the front of the house with Grandma.

Eventually they migrated

(To the side of the table where GRANDPA lets them do anything)

Shake, Squeeze, Eat.....

You know....

All of the fun stuff happens on Grandpa's side.



Meanwhile.......

Grandma and I meticulously place dots in a perfect pattern.

Like mother

Like Daughter.

It was a bonding moment.

Me and my mom painstakingly trying to make the house just perfect.

While the kids sat with my dad globing big goo's of icing and enjoying a feast of cardboard tasting gingerbread and stale sprinkles.

(Bear secretly dumped 1/2 a bottle of sprinkles in his mouth)

It was a fun visit.

Stirring the Emotion Pot

Today in phoenix it’s cloudy. The trees are blowing. The dust has kicked up, and is swirling around the valley making it hazy. The rain will come soon. And just like the rain, so will my tears.

Today I am grateful for my service in the military. I don’t always feel that way, but today I am grateful that I have the capacity to feel emotions that I never would have without experiencing war and military life.

Sundays are beautiful and sacred days for me. Today was peaceful and quiet because my kids are visiting their dad. It gives me time to think, pray, and wonder about many things. Sacrament meeting was quiet. No kids to distract me from the speakers. No urging little Bear to take one piece of the sacrament, instead of his usual handful. Oh the joys of the Sabbath.

Sometimes they are extremely stressful days, but today was a day filled with emotion. The speakers spoke of gratitude. I reflected on grateful moments in my life. Life, Love, My Children, Family, Education, Freedom, Healthcare…..lots of things.

Then came Sunday school. The lesson was on Government, Citizenship, and Beliefs. It is a well loved section in the Doctrine and Covenants. (Sometimes known as the D&C) I feel personally connected to it because of my life’s experiences. I sat and listened to my amazing home teacher talk about his service and how he wants others to reverence the flag. My heart began to feel that fire. That pride for wearing the Uniform. The conflict over what I feel and what I believe began to battle with my life’s experience. I raised my hand to offer my 2cents. This turned into emotional ramblings that I can’t even remember. My mind was so filled with memories and personal opinions that I don’t even remember what I said. All I know is that I shared a part of my heart today. I felt exposed, vulnerable, naked, and uncomfortable. I think I cried for the next thirty minutes, not just a little bit of tears, but a full stream down my face.

I wanted to run. I wanted to leave the room and run to my car for some protection……

Protection from what???

I don’t know…..

Maybe people’s opinions/judgments. A few of the sweet older sisters came and rubbed my arm and offered a smile. I appreciate their kind gesture. I felt like I wanted to crawl out of my own skin and become invisible. I am afraid of judgments. I hurt because of my memories, and I don’t like people to see that I am wounded. I want to be strong. But my heart feels injured.

Purple Heart?

No,

The wounds that come from having your faith in humanity thrown into the biggest, deepest, darkest black hole. The wounds from witnessing humankind at its most evil.

War is awful.

And so are the affects of PTSD.

But I sat. I sat till the end of Sunday School, and even into 30 minutes of Relief Society before I left. That’s when I saw the storm brewing outside. I noticed it on the way to church. It was looming over the mountains towards Payson. And so….like the weather. I will cry.

Things that I love,

Gratitude

There are a great many things in this world that I love.

Take short hair for example.

I love short hair!

Short hair and Flannel Sheets.

I love crawling into tightly streached distressed cottonfibers.

So warm,

So soft,

Ahh......I can't wait for sleep tonight.

Sleep reminds me of.... The Stars,

I love to lay beneath them and ponder the Glory of God.

That was one thing nice about being deployed to Kuwait and Iraq.

Often times we were in such remote locations, that the stars seemed so much more amazing.

One night a helecoptor piolot gave me his NVG's (night vision goggles) and said, "here, take a look at the sky."

I was amazed at how the entire lense was filled with stars that I had never seen before.

I looked, and looked, and was amazed at how much light is in our universe that we never notice.

I definatly prefer the dry desert plains, to the hum of the city for stargazing.

I have spent a great deal of time looking out into the heavens.

Pink Cookies!

Divine

Whoever invented the pink cookie deserves all my thanks!

Watching babies sleep!

Because I think it's soooooo adorable.

I love to watch them dream, and think about how such a wonderful human being can be so peaceful in one sitting.

(And besides, my little bear sleeps in the oddest of positions)

This is one of his classics from birth.

I thought he had outgrown it,

but Monday's nap proved otherwise.

Did I mention Pink Cookies?

And Kissing.

Who doesn't love Kissing.

And Cookies!

Patience

One virtue that I seem to be working on constantly!

Yesterday was a difficult day.

I have a feeling that sometimes all of my patience is sucked out by my kids,

and by the time I reach lunch time there isn't any left.

Yesterday was one of those days.

So I called this wonderful man to come and help my frazzled self.

Unbeknown to me

He had purchased some beautiful flowers to brighten my day

Awww

I don't like to be grumpy

The flowers are beautiful and I love them!

And this wonderful man was able to help turn that frown upside-

down,

And I had a better day.

Veterans Day

Check out the new ride.

Bug and Bear call it the Cranberry Car.

I think their favorite part is the "top window"

Yesterday they suck their heads out while we were waiting in the parking lot.

What color is my tongue mommy?

Bear is definitely blue and wearing it proud.
(at least he's patriotic)

We waited for the ceremony to begin.

.......and even though you can't see me........

I read the names of honor.

I began by honoring my Grandfathers

Harvey Sorensen Lloyd

who served in the U.S. Navy during WWII

and

Ray Andelin Sr. who served in the Army

I celebrated with a free Bloomin' Onion from
Outback Steakhouse

And enjoyed myself quite thoroughly.

Snug a Bug

I experienced the most wonderful thing this morning. In the early hours of the morning Bug came running into my bedroom. He nestled in to a cozy spot beside me and promptly fell back asleep. (And so did I).

A few hours later, (much earlier than I like to be up), I was awakened by one of the most beautiful things in the world.

"Look Mommy, There are colors in the sky!"

......"Go get your glasses."

What a beautiful beginning to another year.

Yesterday was my 3 year anniversary of leaving my children's father. It's usually a rough time of year for me. Remembering the awful events surrounding my flight is painful. I usually mourn the loss of my dreams. But this year four very special people made in a good anniversary.

"I love you, my Snug a Bug Bug!!!"

-Mommy

Wrapping Paper

When I was in Kindergarten, our school fundraiser was to sell wrapping paper.

This was back in the day that you went door to door.

I remember going to the home of Linda Wilkinson,

She was a close friend of my mothers

There, I gave here my sales pitch, and I even think she bought some paper.

After that, I remember the adults laughing about what a good salesperson I was.

I wonder if they just said it because I was young and cute, or because I really did a good show as a wrapping-paper sales girl.

They had me convinced to this day that I could sell anything to anyone :)

Maybe it's just someone believing in you to boost your confidence and performance.

So last month when the little boy across the street came with his school fundraising catalog,

I decided to skip past the chocolates,

Candles,

Cookies,

and went straight for the

Wrapping Paper.

The wrapping paper motivated me to wrap some of my already purchased Christmas gifts.

(The ones up there are for you mom!)

My parents are coming to celebrate Thanksgiving with us, so I want to be ready to send all of my siblings gifts back with them.

I love Christmas shopping.

I think I always have.

I love to give awesome, thoughtful gifts.

This year they will be inexpensive because of life's circumstances,

but they are well thought out and planned.

(sometimes a year in advance)

I love to try to find a gift that I know someone will appreciate and love.

We shall see how this year goes.

(I'll let you know in a couple of months)

If truth be told,

I absolutely LOVE expensive, crisp, wrapping paper.

(I usually purchase the cheapie kind from the dollar store)

You know,

the stuff that's on sale 50% off after the holidays.

The stuff that rips better than it stays.

Yeah,

That's the stuff I usually wrap with.

But not this year.

This year my family will be getting a little role of the best.

Not because It's crisp paper,

but because it comes wrapped with extra love,

and it helped a neighbor boy get one step closer to the prize for selling the most.

I wonder if he made his goal....

Perhaps I will ask next time I see him

Tribute to Looskie Roo, otherwise known as Loo

Isn't she beautiful! And now she is back to Blond, and lookin' great
The only sad thing is.....
That she's gone
She moved

Packed up the car and went back to Utah


I have redecorated her bedroom,
But the house is Empty and much more quiet without her giggling laughter.

Sometimes we would just laugh and laugh and laugh.

We miss you Loo!

Dancing in the Kitchen

During the time after my kids go to sleep turns into

my

STRESS RELIEF

I can be Goofy

Crazy,

Zany

and whatever else I choose.

and some nights I choose simply to fall asleep in total exhaustion.

And would you believe part of my regimen includes dancing with the mop?

Well yep, it does!!!
I crank the music up loud,
Start acting a fool,
and take out some of my feelings on the dirty floor.

I bet you didn't know that I'm a singer too?
That's right!
I dance with the mop, and sometimes even pretend it's my microphone.

I blast music from my speakers as loud as it can go and sing along to angry girl songs.

Songs like Kellie Pickler's Best day's of your life

My Favorite part is when they say, "cuz' I've been told that a cheater is always a cheater! I've got my Pride, She's got you!"

It's one of those moments when you stick your tongue out and say, "SO THERE!"

Not that it actually does anything but to bring relief to the person saying it, because the offending party could care less about their actions.

(I know it's not a very kind thing to think, but it does bring me some small amount of satisfaction)

Notice the window open behind me. I thought we should Close it because it was late and we have neighbors, but Loo informed me that if we have to smell their cigar smoke, then they should have to endure my angry-girl-song-singing.

It's a Shame I don't have an actual audience....

Oh Oh!

I feel a story coming on.

So about a year ago, I read a book by debbie macomber called twenty wishes (I think)

You do know I do have some memory difficulties at times.

So there I was reading a book about how these women made a list of 20 wishes that they wanted to accomplish. I decided it was a pretty good idea and started one of my own. I decided that I want to go surfing before I'm 30. I also want to ride a horse at full gallop and not fall off. (terrifying)

I also added sing in front of a large audience.

My wish was granted a few months later when I was in the psych ward at the hospital. I know! I know! Of all places who would think that my wish would be realized in a place like the mental hospital?

So the patients had optional evening activities, and I happened to be there on a night where karaoke was going to be the highlight event for the evening. Surrounded by old military men with mental illnesses I took the stage, which was actually the same tile floor that lined the rest of the hospital. I sang my heart out....and giggled through parts of the song. (something by savage garden) and laughed at the irony of my dream :) I sang several duets with a few of the nurses, but I wasn't familiar with all of the songs. Most of them were from a different generation.

A dream that will never be forgotten I assure you. It is too funny to forget!

Happy Halloween

The Church put on a fantastic Fall Festival the night before Halloween.

It was great.

Chili,

Corn Bread,

Homemade Rootbeer made in a black caluldren with dry ice!

And the best part of all was that they had Cotton Candy!

I la la la LOVE Cotton Candy

Bug love's it too.

Bear can't figure out how to eat it effectively or efficiently.

Bug decided that he was going to be a "power-ranger"

Not that he even knows what a "power-ranger" is, but he saw the costume at
The local thrift store, and decided it was for him.
Bear, on the other hand, decided to go as Batman.
Ah....the joy's of reusing costumes :)

For Those Who Made It Possible

I wanted to write and thank you for the bike and the many opportunities that you have afforded me. My name is Kimberly . I am a 27 year old single mother with two small toddlers. Before joining the Army I did a few years at the local community college and worked as a cosmetologist. After two Associate Degrees I began to feel restless. My heart longed for duty and honor. A burning desire for adventure and the ability to serve my country started to swell in my heart. At the age of 19, I enlisted in the United States Army as a Combat Medic. I went to basic training in September 2001. Five days later our Nation was attacked by terrorists. The training was intensified and focused on impending combat.
In February 2003 I was deployed with my unit to Kuwait. When the ground invasion began my unit was the first medical unit in Iraq when the war started. During the beginning of the war our mission was to treat enemy prisoners of war as well as our military members. I treated all kinds of wounds and had to live with the dead and dying. I experienced all of this while constantly being under the fear of attack.
After returning home to the states I wasn’t the same. I couldn’t figure out or understand what was wrong with me. I started having emotional meltdowns. Tears would come flying out of no-where. I was angry and I didn’t know why. I started running between 20 & 40 miles a week and spent a lot of time in the gym trying to deal with my anger and depression. Seeking mental help in the military was totally taboo so I talked with a chaplain and engaged in physical exercise like crazy. I ran my feet literally into the ground and to the point where I injured them so badly that I could barely walk when I was discharged from the service.
Depressed and heartbroken I discharged from the army. A month later I went through an evaluation at the VA medical center in Phoenix. The medical examiner told me that he thought I had PTSD and that I needed to see a Psychiatrist. I was angry and upset when they diagnosed me with PTSD in May of 2005. The symptoms that had been running my life for the previous two years only turned up the heat after I was branded with the letters P T S D on my heart.
I lived in fear and was constantly afraid of the shadows, loud noises, or anything that would remind me of the military or my life overseas. I didn’t like talking about the war or my participation in it. Most people didn’t even know that I had served prior to marriage motherhood and divorce. I had a hard time accepting the diagnosis and getting help for my PTSD in the beginning. I had a lot of social and family pressure to be “myself”. And yet I was changed…..changed forever. I did what I could, and yet it always felt like it wasn’t enough.
I lived in fear with anxiety beating in my heart. I had trouble fitting in, making friends, and trusting people. My relationship with my parents and siblings began to suffer. I couldn’t understand myself let alone try to explain to them what I was feeling. All I knew was that I wasn’t the same person I was before.

My sleep would bring nightmares instead of rest. I began to isolate and want to be in control of things around me. I was irritable and I didn’t know why. All I wanted was to be normal, to feel happy. To be the way I was before I had witnessed human nature in its most vial form. WAR leaves its marks. You may not see my wounds, but that is because they have been blown out through my heart! It seemed like the harder I tried to fight my ptsd, and make it go away, the harder it fought back.
I felt stupid and embarrassed when I would sit in a public waiting room, glance down and see a magazine with body bags and a desert background, and turn ashen white. I was humiliated that I couldn’t keep my emotions and memories behind closed doors. I would try to put a smile on my face and pretend like everything was ok. The smile began to work. I got so good at it that no one would even know how greatly I was suffering and that I was slowly being poisoned from the inside by my memories in the military.
About 5 months before discharging from the army in April of 2005 I was married. I was in love, and for a time my symptoms were not as unbearable. It did not last long. After moving to Arizona with my husband I began to see that he was controlling and abusive. His abusive behaviors only added to my ptsd symptoms.
When my husband turned to physical abuse I was able to save myself and my children from the effects of an abusive marriage through a miserable divorce. Divorce left me alone, without support and in financial distress. All three of these, along with many other stresses contributed to my ptsd symptoms. I have been unable to be employed since leaving the army.
I became extremely depressed and cut off from society. I lived in fear of the shadows and relationships with my extended family, church members, friends, and neighbors began to suffer. I would put on a fake smile and grit my teeth just to be out in public. I felt so hopeless. I became extremely self-critical and began saying to myself, “Why can’t you just get over it!?” or “It must be your fault.”
I struggled for another 3 years, and exhausted all of the resources I could think of before I was admitted to the Women’s Trauma Recovery Program for PTSD at Menlo Park California. The program was 3 months long, and extremely emotionally intensive. I learned why I react to things the way I do. I learned why my previous ability to cope wasn’t working. And most importantly I learned many of the tools necessary to support a healthy recovery.
Ashley South introduced me to cycling. She, along with Gil Ramirez and Melissa Pucket would take several members from the men’s PTSD Program riding several times a week. At first I was uncomfortable on a road bike. The physical position was nothing like I was used to. However, it felt good to be out and exercising and I began to be confident on the bike. Another benefit was feeling like I was part of something. It was exciting to challenge my physical abilities with the other men who were riding. Physical exercise makes me feel good, and riding a bike doesn’t put the same kind of strain on my feet that running does. I LOVE IT!
The therapists would give me complements regarding form or speed, and it felt nice to get tips from people who rode a lot. They came proposed the question of riding in the California Challenge with the Ride 2 Recovery Foundation. I was vaguely familiar with the ride because a friend of mine (Jake Wagner) had participated in it the previous year. He had nothing but good things to say about how it helped him in his recovery. I liked the idea, but I didn’t have a bicycle, and I knew that there would be no way that I could financially be able to afford it. Ashley, Gil, and Melissa comforted me and let me know that where there is a will, there is a way.
I was able to take spinning classes at the local gym to prepare my body for the R2R Challenge. A week before I flew to California I received my Scattante Road Bike in the mail. I do not know how or even who the many people that donated and were to make my recovery so much closer for me. But I thank you. I thank you with every good fiber of my heart. I would hug you personally if my arms could reach to all of your unknown locations. I would tell you how grateful I am for the bike. I would share with you the experiences of how riding it has helped me heal from the damaging effects of war. I would tell you how spinning pedals around, and around, and around, with NO end in sight has magically helped me feel better about myself and position in life.
On October 4th through October 10th, 2009 I was able to participate in Ride 2 Recovery’s California Challenge. It was a remarkable life-changing experience. During the beginning it was physically hard, but as my body began to adjust to the forces put upon it, my heart decided it was time for some physical exertion. On day 3 we climbed through the Big Sur Mountain Range. The ride was long, hard, and beautiful. It left plenty of time for ponderings of the heart.
After reaching the first rest stop I was physically ready for a break. An unfortunate comment was made by one of the filming crew members and I was unable to hold back the tears. Not because of what he said, but because of the reality of my life’s situation and the way PTSD affects me. I may still have all of my limbs. My body may not be laced with shrapnel. But I have felt the trauma of war. Every cell in my body has been affected by it.
A fellow comrade (Andrew Rose) tried to cheer me up. All I wanted to do was to melt into a puddle at the realization of how badly my life has been affected by PTSD. He convinced me to get back on the bike and keep pushing. I rode until my tears were so thick that I couldn’t see the road. I pulled off the side of the highway, unclipped from my pedals, walked a short distance and cried. Not just cried but sobbed. I needed to cry, I needed to sob. Most people left me alone to cry. I think they could understand in a way that I needed that emotional release. But a nice man riding with the Arthritis foundation saw my pitiful sight and went to get help from people supporting the Ride 2 Recovery.
As luck would have it I lifted my face from where I had been crying into my knees to see John Wordin, the founder of Ride 2 Recovey. He held out his hand to me and picked me up out of the pile of gravel that had been soaking up my tears. Logical sentences were hard for me to form, because my mind had taken journey to the past. It hung there with the memories of the soldiers who had died and would never be able to participate in something so incredible. I thought of the civilians who had innocently been affected by the invasion. I also thought of my life and how it will never be the same. I am so grateful for that time to ride to the final rest stop in the vehicle. It gave me a chance to cry. Not only to cry, but to talk with Ashley about how I was feeling. Sometimes all I need is for someone to listen. I got back on the bike and finished the ride to the hotel with two other riders. It was nice to have the support of another combat vet, and also a celebrity as we rode the last several miles into town. We stopped to see the sea lions camped out on a beach, and prayed for Scott Cohen’s father who was having medical complications.
Another healing experience came in the town of Solvang. Solvang is a quaint tourist town that is absolutely DIVINE! There was a dinner, entertainment and an auction held in honor of the Ride 2 Recovery participants. Many people from surrounding areas came to participate and raise money for the cause. During the ceremony they pulled out an American flag that contained only 48 stars. The colors were not as crisp as they would have been years ago, and the white had dulled to cream. It had been used to drape the coffin of a veteran who had served in WWI. The national anthem played. My heart kept tune as my eyes flowed with tears. I was touched. I was touched, and I was angry. How dare they play music that has that affect on me? I hated it! Why did all of these people have to die for the “cause?” Angry and bitter I wanted to run back to the comfort of the down pillows and fireplace in my hotel room. At least there I could cry alone. I did not want to face the positive emotions associated with so many painful ones.
The lodge was filled with supporters. People who wanted to show their love and support for what we were doing. I didn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe it. There was no way these people could really care about us? Or could they? No! I wasn’t going to allow myself to believe that someone could truly care about me. They had to have some kind of ulterior motive. Some sort of personal gain, but there wasn’t. I was confused and I cried to Ashley once again. She challenged me to go and ask someone personally why they were there. In a spirit of defiance I was going to ‘show her’. I picked my target. I chose the beautiful woman with the short blonde hair and red boots.
I went over and straight out asked her. “Why are you here?” “To support the cause.” She replied. We then proceeded to have a conversation about why she volunteered to help. Her story was so touching that it brought a different kind of tears to my eyes. She was there out of love. Love of the memory of her late husband. She was there for US, not for herself, not for duty, gain, or obligation. I found that she had a heart of gold. She asked a little bit about me and I told her I was participating. We laughed together, cried, and embraced each other. We exchanged information and still keep in touch. It was healing for me to not just believe, but to actually know that people care about the wounded warrior on a personal and individual basis.
Ever since the ride I have been able to better manage some of my PTSD symptoms. I still have hard moments, but I have the bike that helps diffuse my anger as well as give me a sense of accomplishment about myself.
For the people who made it possible for me; You made a difference in my life, not just somebody you didn’t know, but Me. Someone real who has been suffering for many years with the after affects of war. Weather you gave financial support physical support or emotional support, it was still support appreciated by me. Often times we don’t see the rewards of our donations so today I offer my thanks. Thank you so much sounds so cliché, and does not do adequate justice to my feelings, but I want you to know that You changed the life of someone who has been suffering. II am truly grateful for the opportunities and experiences that you have provided for me. I have shared a few experiences of how they help me heal, but those are just the beginning. The stories will continue as I use cycling as a way to become involved socially again.
Every time I clip in to the pedals on my bike and feel the rush of the wind in my face I heal. The wounds in my hear need to be exposed to the air to heal, and the bike makes that possible. I don’t know how, or why, or the science behind how which chemicals released in my body make it easier for me to cope with PTSD. All I know is that cycling works for me. It helps me remove the splinters lodged in my heart. For me biking is not a onetime thing. I am hoping this will be a lifelong therapeutic outlet for managing my PTSD and depression. I hope that many others will be able to benefit from the cycling programs at the PTSD programs in Menlo Park, CA, as well as in the Ride 2 Recovery Foundation. Please continue to give support and allow more veterans the opportunity to heal.
My time in the WTRP at Menlo Park gave me hope. Hope in myself and my abilities. Hope in humanity. And hope for a better future. Cycling gave me a goal. Something special to work towards. Something to pull me out of patterns of depression. A way for me to connect with others in a social environment in my local community.
I have to say that thus far this year may have had some hard times, but overall it has been my BEST year of my life since experiencing the trauma of combat. This bike, these memories, these opportunities, combined with the continued physical challenge will forever change my life. I am able to live a fuller, more active life because your compassion. Thank You, Thank You Thank You!
Love Always,

ME!!!

Copyright (2009)

Night Sweats

Three nights in a row now. Definatly not a fan of bringing the stress of the day to dreamland. Things just get all mixed up. No Fun, No Fun, No Fun!!!

Ask me how I'm doing?



Not well.......



Oh, don't get me wrong, I look just fine on the outside. Infact for church today I will probably have on a lovely dress, a smile, and a hint of coordinating make up.
I'm not so sure that the squishy heart and the scrambled brain would show up on the outside.

Some times of the year are just hard.....And we are entering the HARD time of year for me.

Back on the Bike

Even though some people may think that I am mechanically inclined.....let me assure you that I am not. I may have driven all sorts of cool military vehicals, and I know the difference between a phillips head and a flat head, but after that things are in inches and millimeters, and then I just begin to wonder why America just HAS to be different from the rest of the world. I can't even remember the conversions of how many cups is in a whatever....(fractions in math were not one of my stronger topics)

So......Now the application of mechanics.....I had to reassemble my bike :( Don't worry, it only took me two days and all I had to put on were the wheels, pedals and handle bars. Kids got in the way a bit with me saying "be careful bear, or it will chop the tip of your finger off." I don't know why I really care if they do quote-un-quote "dangerous things." Because I really enjoyed flipping my bike upside down and spinning the pedals as fast as I could. I even played some make believe game about spinning straw into gold. (probably had to do with the Rumpelstiltskin phase) I would prop my bike upside down and crank those pedals as I ran a raw potato against my rear tire. I thought it was a perfect way to peal a potato. Nothing like tire grime spinning on the tread of my tire against the skin of one of Mom's Potatoes.

Creative?

I thought so.

Well anyway.....I reassembled my bike, and learned that the wrench in my tool box with the 9/16 printed on it does not match the size of the piece on the bike pedal with the same 9/16 on it. The wrench was much to small. Luckily I found one of these.



Genious????.....oh whoops....can I spell genius

I know, I know....hold your applause!

And Viola! My bike was complete.

I took it for a test run today and had a great time. I miss riding with other people. The time seems to go by so much faster when you are with someone. Maybe I will find some cool people around here to ride with. (I'll keep you posted)

Torture

When I was quite young my beautiful grandmother put a picture similar to this up on her refrigerator. I have never forgotten it. (I am secretly rooting for the frog!)

Why torture?

Because that is what I feel inside sometimes. The wounds are still so real. The pain may not manifest itself in the form of scars. You may not be able to see physical signs of my wounds. That's because my wounds have been blown out through my heart. The tissue is still tender, raw, and trying to heal. The wounds are so deep that sometimes it's even hard to breathe when I am flooded by tears of memories.

Maybe that's how I can tell that I still have a heart and caring for humanity. Because I still mourn when I hear of tragedies that are close to my own life's experience. (Death, Pain, War, Torture, Abandonment, Injustice, & Fear to name a few.)

I thought things would be different after this ride, and some things are....Don't get me wrong. But there are other things that are still trying to heal. I can't believe I did something so amazing :) The Ride to Recovery was truly remarkable. I think that physical activity will play a big part in my recovery.

Thursday was my first day back to school. I was anxious and nervous about the normal stuff that comes up. My mind went blank when it came time to introduce myself. (sounds ridiculous, but I think I froze for at least 5 seconds with an um....) I mean really? Who can't introduce them self? Where did all of this social anxiety come from? I mean Come on? I played the piano and played in recitals for years. I sang with my family from the podium in church. I have been in choirs, given speeches, led soldiers with confidence. You would think that the butterflies in the stomach over a personal introduction would have migrated south for the winter. But No....The Butterflies of anxiety found me, along with the thunder cloud of impending doom storming over my heart.

Throughout class I made a few sarcastic comments and laughed. After all I am in an ethics class, and THAT subject just begs for satire sarcasm and laughter. There were several witty comments and enjoyed the first few hours.

I was doing alright until the subject of business ethics turned to U.S. Governmental ethics, Geneva convention, Cuba, torture, wife beating (and where it is socially acceptable), and other subjects that make my skin crawl. Not only does my skin start to shiver, but that's when my memories rush in. The ones where I have experienced tragedies first hand. And with that rush comes melting of that Ice around my heart that I use as a protection. That ice then forms itself in tears that flows down my face like a river.

I wanted so badly to raise my hand and say something, but the frog hanging on to my throat was making it very difficult to talk. (It may have been wringing my neck as shown in the picture above). I did not want any more attention added to the tears. So I stayed and chose not to raise my hand.

So I turned my mind to the sound of my breath and tried to focus on slowing down the diaphragmatic pull in my belly. Ah......It worked. The tears still streamed, but at least my mind was distracted from so many of the awful things that I have experienced.

The tears that just don't seem to stop when I wish I could just push them back. I don't want other people to see the hole that life's tragedies have left in my heart. I want it to close. To heal. To stop hurting. I am on my way, but the journey may be long. Thanks for joining the journey fellow readers and family members. This is it. This is the real day to day moments of my pain.

The lecture in my class was on different theories about ethics, and whether or not people are born with morals and values, or if they are acquired through life experience. I am still trying to believe that there is good in humanity!!!

So I am going to go with the debate that we are all children of God born with the Light of Christ! I think that our spirits yearn to feel things that are spiritual. Faith is not only a feeling, it's something tangible. It's real! I know because I have touched it, along with hope and love. The purest form of love is Charity. (Deep in the center I know it to be true) even if my life's experiences have shown different results to my hypothesis. My story has shown me suffering. So where is the Joy? It comes when we are trying to be like Jesus. Learning to serve others. I really and truly believe that people want to be good and to show love and kindness to their fellow men, women, children, animals etc.

There may always be corruption in this world, and it's so easy to get sucked into the negative.

The discussion may have been hard, but I will persevere! I have Hope for the future.

Not only that, but my prayers were answered when dear Paula answered her phone.

I love you!

Day 7

The final day began with a beautiful breakfast at the Marriott Hotel in Ventura Beach

On your mark....

Get Set....

GO!!!

Can you believe I was part of something this awesome?

Professional riders,

Celebrities,

Wounded Warriors,

Veterans,

and

Supporters.

It was miraculous.

I was amazed at all of the support dedication and love.

It's an amazing thing to be a part of.

Thanks for the opportunity, I hope to be able to participate again.

At the time the water looked cold but inviting.

One of my goals is to go surfing before I turn 30!

It almost happened in San Diego the day that I came home.

But....Loo and I were anxious to come back.

Maybe next year when the water is a more comfortable temperature.

Some people from an arthritis foundation were also doing a long ride.

Isn't the tandem a totally romantic way to go.

One friend who was very special to me rode her bike with her husband to the court house to be married in their matching white jersey's.

Completely creative, and lots of fun memories :)

Miss ya Sam.

I made it to the rest stop.

The man behind me and to my left is known as Doc.

It is an honored title and one that does not come easily.

He is even thinking of changing his legal name.

Amazing!

A man who is missing a leg, being pushed by a buddy, being pushed by a man with no hand.

Motivational?

Absolutely

Where else can you find such camaraderie?

I chilled out a little way's back rockin' the socks.

They also served as my motivation.

(Can you tell I like to be a bit different?)

Unique.

Individual.

Both words that I enjoy.

Ooooo La La

Me in action!

And again.

The group stopped about 5 miles away from our final destination.

The goal was to have everyone ride in together.

So I ate a powerbar, cheesed it up for the camera with Kristen,

And pet the dog Wendy

who is in training to be a service dog for someone with PTSD.

The dogs receive some of their training at the VA hospital in Menlo Park.

Patients with PTSD help to train the animals as part of their therapy and also recover.

It's amazing how an animal can tell your mood and help through emotional rocky spots.

I was able to spend time with

Gabe,

Autumn,

Huff,

Verde,

Vegas,

Venudo

and

Wendy who is shown above!

Other members of the PTSD group who rode!

Bear was waiting for me at the finish line with his patriotic sword (flag) in hand!

Anything in the form of a straight line is a sword to Bear.

(must be a boy thing)

Love does prevail over violence.

I love to be engulfed in his adorable hugs.

Bug was very exuberantly waving his flag for me as I rode in.

"Hurry Mommy! Hurry, I want to snug on you!"

(I'm in the middle waiving my hand)

And run to my boys for the much needed Love.

And there we have it.

Success!

The bike ride was awesome, awe-inspiring, healing, remarkable, challenging, and amazing all wrapped up with many other adjectives.