i think she honestly believes she's not that bad

"This is what she'll do." "Maybe I wasn't paying attention to her. That is where the quilt comes from." "I don't know what to do anymore, but if she knocks on my door I'm going to feed her."

Titles
My Condition
Some of Her Behaviors
From this Day Forward
Hit a Rock Bottom
Accountable
A Different Path
Tough Love
Never Get Better
Healthy Consequences

With all the power in the world, nothing could stop Ryla. No one but herself. Dan was the only one to help her to see that. With all the magic in the world, with all the earth shaking power God himself held, it came down to hearing Ryla say those precious words. Help me. So, he did.

I don't remember the pain as much as each day goes by and as each night's sleep washes through those tough and lonely memories I thought I would drown in. Now that I see those events could have been approached differently. I couldn't find the healthy way to deal with my pain and my loss. My first husband and I were in love at one time. We were in love and we loved life. We loved life so much we thought living it to the fullest meant partying until the sun went down. Sexual encounters in dangerous places. Leaving out cares and responsibilities to chance by running off. What we didn't know, but that I see now, was that we were self destructing. He and I were not looking to each other. We were not deeply lost in each other's gaze or in the heart of a soul mate. We were surrounded by all the things that would make us forget that maybe we made the wrong choice, maybe we weren't happy, and just maybe our searching gaze for the next high or the next drink meant running farther and farther away from our problems. When I would get angry I would accuse him of never loving me. I wish I could just say what I did was always due to a lack of self esteem. And if you ever asked me I would tell you I felt that sincerely. Feeling good about myself was impossible. So often addiction is blamed on the addict and blamed on self esteem. Just pick yourself up. That's what bootstraps are for. If you've never been an addict, then you will never know the source of addiction. Abuse. Family problems. A history of drug or alcohol abuse. Mental illnesses that can be stacked from here to the moon and back. Behavior. Economic situations. We forget to empathize. To look beyond our own tendency to blame. Shame is a strong emotion.

bebe

I Remember Saying...

I remember saying I want the ups and downs of life. I was a fool. I don't want the downs. The downs are so despicably lonely and cruel. They care not for what you love or what you dream of. The downs think everything you have is theirs and ready for their taking. The downs find what you cherish and ruin it. The ups may celebrate you, but the downs murder you.

The fact that life is hard is "supposed" to be a testament that life is worth living. I disagree. I want boring.

How can something so sweet and innocent be taken away from me, or should I be asking why? I am ready to just roll over and die. It would beat continuing to feel abandoned and deserted by God, by the universe, at the loss of my companion.

I hate the downs and all their terrible suggestive treatment that says I really should be grateful for what I still have. That would be fine, if I didn't mind all along giving it up for someone I love. Things mean nothing. Love means everything. Should I be grateful that is gone from me?

I haven't been divorced from my feelings. I have been smothered in them. I am drowning in them. I am dying in them. They fill my lungs with cold stinging release that may comfort me just a little as I numb to the pain I feel is so unfair and so undeserved. I shut down. People reach out, and as I reach back, I see myself shutting down. There is an opportunity, and I couldn't hear them because I'm drowning inside.

I once saw a woman on TV documentary showing her life as an alcoholic. She sat smoking in her backyard. She drank little vodka bottles. She cried and cried. She mourned and mourned. Her children were taken from her custody and no visiting allowed. She was overcome with the guilty knowledge that she was all to blame. Haze filling the torpid summer air, curled up in backyard lawn furniture, she sobbed, "Where are my babies? Where are my babies? Where ARE my babies? WHERE are my babies? Where are MY babies?" The sobbing went on and on. All sense of propriety and neighborly noise control forgotten. This woman had been disconnected, though by her own hands, from pieces of her heart and soul. Her children were clearly removed for a reason, for their safety and health. To save them from pain. The mother, the alcoholic was consumed with the pain of it all. She drowned in it as she did her wine. She pushed people away when they cared for her, when they worried for her. They provided opportunities. She turned them down. Why? Because, and I know now, it feels good. It actually feels good to hide from healing. It is like a drug of it's own. It becomes an addiction. Instead of feeding off of positive energy, you leech on it and create negative energy to dwell in. You seek out the negative.

I feel good just wallowing in the worst days of my life. I want to keep people at a distance. They won't understand. They say they do, but until they feel a loss, or remember a loss they had, they know I have to dwell. If only for a while.





So here I dwell. Leave me be.








Listen to Never Think.

Dear Stephanie

Dear Stephanie,

I remember first meeting you mere months ago in November when Matthew Restall was speaking. I remember the first thing you said to me after introductions was that you were going to try and make it to my panel paper presentation. I thought to myself, "Wow, why would she do that?" I know why though- you are such a sweet and generous person. Just hearing about me from Bob I'm sure was what made you want to view my presentation, but it made me smile a bit that Bob would even share about me at all. Then you were very welcoming at that Mesoamerican dinner you held and over the days of the conference. It was a tremendous help to me and probably more than you know, though I think I tried to tell you. I just knew from being around scholars just like you that this was an area of profession that I would be happy moving forward in. I was not jaded or oblivious to the trials and hard work it would require, but I thought if I could do it as passionately as you do then I would be happy. I was always testing the waters for my future as a scholar, and it had so much more to do with the people than the books and journals of endless information. Though I get a lot of enjoyment from reading and learning, it has been most rewarding when I am sharing them with you.

Then at the conference dinner, sitting at the president's table, I told Bob I recognized your name from the Wired Humanities Project website that I had actually visited a lot. I thought of applying for a position there. He told you, you did a fist pump and said "Yes!" From then on I was so excited about the opportunity to stick around you, learn from you, and gain some great experience.

I want to apologize for not giving more time in the end of the year. I hope, if possible to give WHP more time as the summer goes on. I really saw the internship opportunity you offered me as a safe haven away from the stress of getting good grades, of doing papers, and reading endlessly. Though that is all fun, it is stressful. I could just learn about Mesoamerican history on my own terms. I was reluctant because I didn't know if I would like Mesoamerican history, but the VMA gave me an opportunity to find the niches that made learning fun for me. I loved just coming in and getting some experience (whether you thought it was tedious or not, I liked it). I know the value of tedious work too. I still learned and never minded.

I love to hear your project plans for the young women and Oaxacan history. The folklore aspect made me realize I could still apply folklore to a history career. The lines between disciplines can blur in a complementary way, and though I'm all over the board in some ways, I see them all as crucial pieces. I see you doing the same thing and I follow your lead.

Your input on my thesis was beyond generous. I found all the little comments and revisions to be a really big help. Your comments were always opening my mind to other possibilities. Especially knowing how busy you were and how hectic life gets, it was a true gift to have your voice in my thesis project. I felt like you were the missing piece, since I had been studying women and you being a California native, I felt like you "got it" and it clicked. Sometimes it wasn't easy explaining all the jumbled mess that went on in my head, but I felt like you were instrumental in helping me articulate those hard-to-articulate ideas. Your insights and questions made me really think. I want you to know that the comments you gave that I wasn't able to incorporate I still researched on and found out all new information on. The added layers of meaning and comments only helped prepare me for my future. I feel confident getting ready for a graduate program. Though I'm nervous about getting in, I know when the time is right and I do attend a program I will be ready because of people like you who invested time, attention, and kindness in my education both as a historian-in-training and a person.

Thank you for your help with Katy too. She loved every second of WHP and talks about it all the time. I really think you honestly showed her a future career with maps and culture that she will pursue. She didn't know what she wanted to do or what she could be passionate about until she met you and worked at WHP.

You are so passionate about your students and about everyone you meet. I have never met such a generous person. You really give so much of yourself. You are also one of the busiest people I know too. You lifestyle is always putting in 110% of yourself, and I just want you to know, that although others at the university may not see it, I see it and I appreciate it. I am so glad I did another year of school and had the chance to get to know you.

T

To my Professor

Dear Bob,

It can be said that my education was one of the most enjoyable and fulfilling journey through the college experience of anyone I know. And so many friends and family say it was because of me, but I tend to disagree. It was a combination of the subjects, my excitement for them, and those who shared my excitement. The first time I really talked to you at your office hours you were not your happy and pensieve self. Though at that time I did not know you, I presumed you just didn't like me. That, of course knowing me, did not disuage me from pursuing conversations with you, because as it were, your class piled on the reading like I'd never had before and I was overwhelmed. I don't know if it showed, but I really didn't think I could read it all. I learned early on to get to know the professor of the class. Week one was for studying the professor, their teaching style, and trying to recognize what they want me to get out of the class. You were quiet, thoughtful, and at unexpected times completely hilarious. That was a tough term for me. I experimented with the play you assigned for Spiritual Conquest class and you approved. So often I had not received that kind of response when it came to trying something new and creative. I knew then that maybe I should stick around this guy. It might be good for me.

Of course, knowing that I needed a mentor, but that I hadn't been advertising that fact, I was aware of my own needs and plans as a student. So in a way I was interviewing you for the job. You did a fine job indeed. I knew I was looking very determinedly to the future of being a professor, a scholar, and an all around history geek. I needed to find someone who shared a similar verve for all things history with an open mind to other subject that had by then picqued my interest. I needed training, and I was the Skywalker to your Obe One. I have a way of busting down the door into people's lives and at times am unapologetic. I live my life that way. I'm loud, extroverted, curious to a fault. In some ways you reminded me of Kristopher; you were optimistic, funny, and somewhat quiet. I had learned to speak to Kris, while realizing the trampling nature my personality can take on, and I think it helped prepare me for talking to you. At our high school we were assigned to write a legacy. What was our legacy, what did we want to be remembered as, and what did we want to leave behind. Of course, being me, I said with the spit fire of a proletariat party leader in front of my class that I was going to leave a mark on every life I encountered whether good or bad. At the time I was even more flaboyant, tempestuous, and outspoken (if you can believe that). Kris stood before the class and said he wished it all to be the same as if he had never existed. I was personally insulted and immediately took issue with him. He shortly learned about my temper, but in the long term, I know he will learn what I see you have learned. A non-outspoken person can make dramatic and powerful impacts on the lives they encounter as long as they stay true to their strengths. You and Kris share the strength of being two of the most genuine people I have ever met. I appreciate that about you above all.

Speaking at graduation was a point in my life, much like the Ethnohistory conference, where I believe my own path was shown to me. I received some kind of confirmation from the universe that, Yes I was headed in the right direction. Here was the supportive family that loves me that came to witness my goodbye to a chapter in my life. Here were classmates I recognized as more than just peers I argued with or for in class, as they truly were like me in their fear and excitement for some unknown future destination. Finally, here was my professor of two years, a remarkably short time I must say, who I had bonded with and formed a special connection with. It was a gift your friendship and mentorship.

I stayed my fifth year largely because of you and I don't know if I ever told you that. There was of course other things at play, such as Kris in a five year program, my November anxiety attack about applying to graduate programs, and a general lack of that sense of closure I thought I would feel approaching my graduation. I could have graduated the Spring of '08 quite easily, but you knew that. Although I can say without shame that I am an over achiever, I prefer to imagine that I knew my limits and I always strived to push myself to those limits. To challenge myself to grow as a student, as a scholar-in-training. I was testing myself to see if I had what it would take to be a scholar. Though never lacking in confidence, I did have doubts. I didn't know what I would study or where, so it made sense to slow down a bit. I needed to test the waters. I needed to train, and by the time I had resolved to stay before starting the Missions of California class, I decided I wanted you to help train me. Again, I have a way of busting down the door, and I don't know if I ever made it an option for you to decide if you wished to fulfill that role. It just felt right staying, while graduating didn't. I had yet to meet my threshold, my tipping point, my point of burn out and utter exhaustion; and for some idiotic reason I pursued that end and I am still paying for it in energy, though I never regret it. I couldn't have done a fifth year, as I did it with all the bells and whistles, without your support. Thank you for all the introductions to famous rock star historians at the conference. Thank you for wanting to be at my panel- it was enough to know you wanted to be there when you couldn't. Thank you for taking me under your wing (I'll miss that wing...). Thank you for reading my ridiculously long thesis as many times as you did; it pained me to send it off every time knowing me strength has yet to be succintion and conciseness. Both my parents are long-winded and I married a man of few words so I don't know how short I'll ever really make anything. I always work on it though.

I never knew I would write a thesis more comparable to a book in scope, but that is how I live my life. I can never be accused of not going big. But I also just let it happen, and everytime I lost sight of my thesis I would pick up a book and learn something knew. I had never had an experience before when I was reading pages and pages of all kinds of books and it didn't feel like an arduous task but some kind of adventure. I suppose that naivite may fade as my youth will, but I hope it doesn't. It was more than learning about Harrye and Helen, I learned humility, self-control, diligence, patience, and self-forgiveness through writing my thesis.

My mother always taught me to follow those opportunities that would be challenging and rewarding and worth far more to my life experience than I could ever imagine. To be open to those opportunities. Your steady encouragement was essential to not only my undergraduate degree experience, but also to my future academic career. I never felt judged for just being me. Thank you for that. That is not always the case. I knew I could blossom under your belief in me. I needed independence, a lot of it, but reinforcement. Although I am not gifted with much modesty, I was not looking for someone to dote over me. I wanted honesty and fairness. I knew and as I still know in my life, that any sort of recognition for my achievements is only as big as my ability to find the gift that they are without people confirming it so. I feel like the accolades for a job well done at the end of my degree was when I was least seeking people's approval, and I never had to seek yours really. I knew the fact that you read ever page of my thesis was enough to know you cared about my studies, about me, and about my future ambitions. Not all professors give the time and attention you (and Stephanie and Dianne) have given to me. It is a gift but one that I sought out.

The real confirmation was when you asked me to speak for graduation, and I stood in front of my family, my class, my professors, and you to say, "You guys gave a lot to me and I won't take that for granted." In the end, I didn't compromise my values or bend my boundaries to be the best at something in school. In the end, I didn't lose sight of the real goal of pursuing a passion through challenges and obstacles. I didn't lose sight of the gifts I was given in the end. I didn't forget, even when I sometimes wanted to, that I wanted all the challenges for the sole reason of making me a better person and training me to be a better scholar. I'm not done training of course. Never will be. I had one of the best college experiences because of the opportunities I was given. Bob, thank you for those opportunities.

I feel like this letter shys away from saying goodbye. In all honesty, (with your permission before I bust down the door) I hope to still have you around in my life for many years to come. So I don't want to say goodbye. I still have stuff to learn from you. I value our friendship and your mentorship, and I simply refuse to cut that cord.

Thank you for introducing me to Stephanie too. The opportunity to be an intern for her continued to be one of the really fun experiences I had amidst the chaos and pandamonium of my last year. You two are a powerful force together and I continue to hear from all sorts of students, professors, and from some of your colleagues at the ASE conference that you both have made a huge impact with your generosity and welcoming philosophy.

Finally, thank you for being you and for you letting me be me. I send my best wishes.