The Moral of the Story Is...

From the "What doesn't kill us makes us stronger files..."

This time of year is very bittersweet for me as it was during this time three years ago that we kept vigil while my mother was actively dying. What was expected to take a week or two lasted nearly two months.

It was during this period that I started sensing a profound energy from the other side, as I could see my mother in her nonverbal state pull away from their summoning as she was not yet ready to leave. Yes, it was torture for all of us as we were powerless to make a difference in what was happening, emotions were in high gear, the entire family was summoned to her bedside several times with "this is it" episodes before she took one last breath in my sister's arms in the middle of the night.

Now I have learned that time of my life was setting the foundation for finally discovering who I was truly meant to be. Elements had always been there, although I didn't know terminologies or all the metaphysical concepts but it confirmed the reality that "spirits on the other side exist" and it has nothing to do with anything but sending pure love and energy to help us discover ourselves on the highest level.

This is not to say that I am "there" yet. In fact, you'd be surprised how many times I myself turn to Google to answer certain questions that I don't completely understand. But I have never known such peace, such certainty (tinged with some uncertainty when I don't take every experience as it's happening "in the moment" and fail to trust myself and/or my intuition). Everyday I nearly fall to my knees in gratitude that I have remained open, loving, understanding, willing, able... That I have met like-minded people who aspire to the same and have the same qualities, lend a hand, encouragement, and support.

Still, my life in total and the experiences of those who guide me from the other side bring the same message: It may not always be easy but by taking these lessons, experiences, and absorbing information from reliable sources--while actively applying willingness, openness and pure intent to use it for the greater good--will take me to the goal of being the best person I can be.

Although I am not a fan of lengthy blog entries or shares, I do hope you get what you need to know from this share so that you too can bring yourself closer to your highest self--especially during anniversaries or significant dates of those who have passed over--because it is then the vibrations are strongest and the connection is more "intense." They continue to teach us and we are forever a student.

Blessings always... MM

Real Love in the Real World

Since I first stood up straight without my corrective shoes during the Mickey Mouse Club, television has been a huge part of my life. Truth is that I can never get enough. The TV is on essentially from my first waking moment to when the timer switches it off after I've fallen asleep.

I started watching General Hospital when I was nine years old. The daytime drama pattern endures fifty years later: As soon as two of the show's favorite characters finally make it down the aisle, someone is in the wings to wreak havoc on their relationship.

Although they conclude more succinctly, movies aren't much different: Kismet, angst, unrequited, requited, unrequited again, then eventually into each other's arms to live happily ever after.  (No doubt some computer generated imagery will also include an explosion or alien invasion.)

Amazingly, we tend to think it's romantic to have our love lives play out like these stories: That difficult, torturous, gut-and-soul-wrenching experiences are prerequisites on the path to eternal love.  

But in the midst of all the craziness, we ignore a very basic reality: Without the intense storylines, there is no story. Without the tedious, drawn-out adventures, lots of people aren't working.

It is wise to remember—and inform our children—that Hollywood's version of romance is not reality, it is an illusion. Relationships may have obstacles and certain dramas (aka life events) will naturally occur but we don't need to cry an ocean of tears to achieve love. In fact, it's often far more organic and usually kind of simple, sometimes even boring. But that's okay.

Because, ultimately, one of life's most precious gifts is to find someone we can trust and with whom we can be our true selves. Believe me when I say that there's no script for that.

"Hot" Isn't Always "All That"

The problem with "hot" is people don't always get to see the "real you." 

Funny but true: In my "clubbing days," I'd meet a guy and go have breakfast in the wee hours. 

About an hour into talking at a diner, the guy would say to me: "YK, you're really an alright chick." 

It didn't matter to them who I really was at first blush but when forced to relate to me, only then could they tell I was a real, down-to-earth person. (This happened to me several times.) 

Point is: We are who we are and that's okay. There will always be someone, somewhere to appreciate us in depth and breadth--warts'n'all ... The right one will grasp the total you within and feel lucky to be at your side--no matter what. That's the person who is worth the wait. 

Just keep your senses keen to appreciate him/her for all they are--warts'n'all.

Mourning (My Living) Mom

As Mothers' Day quickly approaches, my mind is all about Mom (pictured at right with me in 1979 at my baby shower). With a twist. 

 

I could tell Mom for hours on end what she means to me and everything about her that is integrated into my being from my earliest memories forward. I could tell her she is one of a kind. That her graciousness and beauty and talent for entertaining and sociability put her in a class all by itself. How I channel her at times without even trying—good and bad—almost as if I'm having an out-of-body experience. That for the basic characteristics we share, we are every bit as different in others.

Not only could I tell her, I do. And continue to.

Except there's no indication she comprehends. Alzheimers has taken her so far away that we will never get her back.

When I share these more intimate details of my life, I feel like I'm exploiting Mom and my family for attention and consolation. But that is far from my intent. In fact, I often don't know what to say when people react sympathetically. I mean, what can you say? My writings are a reaction to some situation or stimuli; I share my work in hopes others can relate or find comfort/worth in my words.

For fifteen years, we have watched Mom fade away at a snail's pace. There were almost humorous incidents at first. Absentmindedness… Like not absorbing the simplicity of writing an address as simple as "1414." How do I write that? She ended up writing the words "Fourteen-Fourteen." She just couldn't wrap her head around writing the numbers. The disconnect was surfacing.

Within five years, Mom could no longer live alone and family members took turns as her caretakers.  By the tenth year, it was time for a nursing home because her needs were beyond our capabilities.  Now in her sixth year there, staff marvel at Mom's resilience and physical health. "She eats well," they say. She's practically their poster child to contradict people's fears that a nursing home expedites decline.  

That being said, Mom stopped speaking about two years ago. She barely opens her eyes. When pressed for a reaction, it's as if you're pulling her out of an alternate universe and back into ours. But her trips here are extremely brief; it's almost as if she can't wait to retreat back to where she lingers. My fantasy is that she's in a happy limbo surrounded by those who have passed, assuring her that wherever she is, she is loved. As naive as it sounds, it's one of the ways we who struggle to understand this mind boggling condition cope.

Friends of mine who have lost family members with Alzheimers usually lose them within five years. Why Mom continues to dwell in this netherworld, I do not know. It's not that we want to lose her; we just don't understand how it's possible someone can "live without living" years on end.

Watching the deterioration is beyond sad. Even worse is the inability—and accepting the inability—to improve Mom's status. Coming to that realization has at times caused bouts of depression and upheaval among those of us closest to her because we know the direction in which she is moving but we are in our own state of suspended animation as it continues for as long as it continues.

Not without faults, Mom's greatest failing in life was a lack of confidence in herself and her potential. She never really had an opportunity to spread her wings and fly, nor did she believe herself capable of doing so.  Still, nothing Mom has done warrants this sentence. In fact, it's not something I would wish on the most despicable of people.

So you'll understand if I give in to nostalgia this Mothers' Day and prefer to remember what was--instead of what is. If I publicly explore the overwhelming challenge of letting go of someone in slow motion as heart strings stretch beyond threadbare. 

The only solace is letting myself feel Mom's love and believing she loves each one of us to the best of her ability. Sincere and deep, not overly demonstrative but never cold, she strived to do the right thing in every situation and you rarely left her feeling anything but warmer for the experience.

I love Mom. Her legacy will always be unconditional love. She gave it, ached for it and in the oddest of ways, somehow communicates it—even in her current state.

Perhaps the greatest irony of all are Mom's words in her productive days when faced with frustration or pressure: "I just want to be left alone." I'm pretty sure this isn't what she meant.

All in A Word

My Great Grandmother Angelina Revellino used to say "Dolly* … No talka before you go, talka when you come back." It's something I've practiced all my life. Too bad there are many out there who don't.

Everyone is an armchair expert these days. They half-listen or half-read a line/comment and hastily react. They take another's inventory and think they've got them all figured out.

But here's the thing… You can't possibly know everything about anyone in a flash. Even the most open and transparent of individuals cannot be so easily analyzed.

There are many dangers in deciding to be the judge, jury and executioner of another human being. People who appear publicly confident often intimidate the insecure, who then fight for superiority by devising ways--often verbal--to control them. 

Unfortunately even the strongest individuals with a powerful persona can be emotionally left in a heap on the floor, courtesy of one key word. And I'm seeing it happen all around me more frequently. To people I care about very much.

Despite my position as a "believer," it is becoming abundantly clear that this world is not eager to change its negative path. It's just not all sunshine and rainbows. In reality, it never was—and likely never will be. But it can improve. It can be better.

People really need to step back a second, breathe, reevaluate the words BEFORE they leave their mouths and consider the impact and repercussions.

Normally I'm not much of a name-caller because I was pretty much a target in grammar school and its sting taught me that lesson. Fat kids don't usually fare well amongst their peers and I was no different. Because "Melissa" was an unusual name in the 60s, it was easy to transition the name to "Malaria." So when someone coined me as "Contagious Malaria" in fourth grade, it caught on quickly. No one was to touch me or come near me, lest they too face "the wrath of the bullies."  

Don't feel sorry for me, it's not the first time I was called a name and it certainly wasn't the last. I shed a fair amount of tears and let it keep me down for a while but there are benefits to being determined and thickheaded. So eventually I moved on and forward.

The name calling to my face and behind my back certainly didn't end in childhood. Actually it continues to this day. Now that weight is less of an issue in my life, people just find other names to call me, citing other reasons.

The human psyche is very delicate. I have a better than average understanding of psychology because of my gig writing and editing text. But even by viewing a few episodes of "Criminal Minds," it's not difficult to see that the person who seems to be in total control can become unraveled by a "final straw" (trigger).

The bottom line is that another's head is not your stomping ground. You don't like it when it happens to you. But then you turn around and do it to somebody else. It's a cycle of abuse, pure and simple.

The additional fragility lies in the reality that everybody needs to feel connected. When a target has made their primary anchor and identity related to a social media site or bulletin board or organization, it's hard to deprogram and move on if their intent and popularity there is focused upon by the jealous, mean and/or unstable.

So I say to those of you who love purely and give freely of yourselves to others with good intent: Keep the following in mind when another's words start crowding your head and inhibiting your progress.

-Most of the time, it's really not about you at all. It's about them and their insecurities.

-"What others think of us is none of our business."

-Life is a learning experience. "Take what you need and leave the rest" … "Use it or lose it."

-A thread of truth does not weave the fabric of our lives—or our future.

-Diminish the power of abuses past by refusing to allow them to continually control our today.

-Devalue the impact of words intended to hurt so you can continue your mission.

-Stay pure of heart and intent. Leaders don't follow crowds mired in negativity.

-If it was all meant to be easy, there would be no joy in accomplishing life's challenges.

-Go where there is love and support; repel hostility, negativity, doubt.

-Continue to emanate that beauty from within. It shines. It pervades. It rejuvenates and empowers.

-Stay on course; it will really piss the meanies off. Their impact dissipates with each unkind word.

*That's how Great Grandma said "Darling" in her broken English. (She emigrated from Italy and returned there before she died.)