Defining Women Newsletter - Summer 2006, "When Life Throws a Curve Ball"

Associated Securities Corp.

Carol Akright, Certified Financial Planner and Certified Kinesionics Practitioner, is an investment manager, financial strategist, and pioneer in applying kinesiology to help people identify and fund their life dreams. A financial advisor for 22 years, she is author of FUNDING YOUR DREAMS GENERATION TO GENERATION (Advisor Press, 2006) and of numerous financial articles. Creator of the national PBS series, FUNDING YOUR DREAMS, she is a frequent guest on radio and TV. Ms. Akright is the founder of TOTAL FINANCIAL HEALTH, a wholistic program in dreamfunding and wealth creation. She can be reached at Associated Securities Corp., (505) 897-1970.

"urve Balls" are, by definition, unexpected, and usually viewed as negative experiences. We all get them thrown at us, and it's most interesting to see how we, and others, react to these changes of plan, destination, or pathway to the future. Some of us bounce back more easily than others-and that can make all the difference in how we interpret the negative experience and how much it affects our enjoyment of what lies ahead despite, because of, or in reaction to, the curve ball that is impacting our lives.
     I'll share two experiences-one of mine, and one of my 92-year-old mother's:

     When I was in my twenties I thought I had the world by the tail. I was working at an interesting career (TV news), I had already traveled to some 30 foreign countries, I'd been lucky to be in love once or twice and was feeling very fortunate-like the sun was shining down on me with beneficence and good luck. For the most part, life had gone my way, delivering up successes that I had worked hard for, but which I had assumed would be my lot in life.
     Then at about age thirty, I started thinking about having a family. I was dating a wonderful man who had told me on our first date that he didn't want children. He was a passionate, kind, intelligent fellow, with a great sense of humor-but no children? I could not imagine my future without them, as I had come from a loving home where the children (my sister and I) were greatly cherished and enjoyed. So, I asked again-but I got the same answer. So, in a muddle of concern, I did what I always do when I wanted answers: I took a class, the title of which was "Do You Want Children, or Don't You?"
     By the end of the class, I knew I did. So, with a heavy heart, I broke up with this man and returned to California, where I resumed dating a former boyfriend, the man who later became my husband. I asked him the same question, "Will you have children with me?" - and the answer I got was, "I guess I can do that." Not a resounding "yes," but a "yes" just the same.
     Some years later we married, and started immediately trying to have a baby. By the time I was 38 years old I still wasn't pregnant. So we began the long and expensive journey of fertility treatments, but to no avail. By age 43 I was really discouraged, and then one of those curve balls came flying my way. My husband's career collapsed with the downturn of the real estate market in California in the early 90's. He went from making big money, to no money at all. In his own emotional spiral downward, he said to me with grave finality, "Carol, that's it. We can't afford these treatments any longer. We're not having children. Deal with it!"
     I was absolutely devastated. Never had I envisioned a future without kids to love and nurture. I saw visions of going to baseball games, ballet recitals, filling stockings for Christmas, rocking a child on my shoulder or nursing a newborn all fading away. And I must say that to this day, there is a hole in my heart that this miracle of creating life will never be mine to experience.
     But, being the optimist that I basically am, I immediately went into brainstorming alternative family options - such as spending more time with our four nephews, fostering children for temporary time periods, and adoption. I knew that the first two would only be short-term palliatives, that what I really wanted was to raise a child from infancy to adulthood-seeing all the stages, laughing and crying with them, and nourishing their tiny spirits and characters to become people they will be proud to be.
     So, once my husband's new career was on track, and after a move to New Mexico to make that happen, I started in on my "adoption campaign," to enroll him in my new view of family life. In short, thus far, I have not been successful in convincing him to adopt small children. We began one process to adopt a teenager, but her troubled past, once we learned about it, would not have allowed the "family," in the sense I want, to become possible. We decided not to proceed with that adoption. So, at 58 years of age, I still have this dream but no children, other than a wonderful goddaughter I see often and cherish dearly.
     I guess I haven't given up my idea of creating what now still seems possible to me, an international family with a young son and daughter each from a different land, since parental age discrimination is much less of an issue in foreign adoptions. So, we'll look like grandparents-so what? They'll have us for a good 30-35 years-plenty of time to raise children to adulthood.
     There are lots of people who would say to me, "Carol, give it up. Find some other substitute for your dream of raising children-volunteer work with children, etc." My husband rolls his eyes when I tell him that adoption is what we can do now that he'll be retiring by end of this summer. But, somehow, I feel that being a mother is my destiny. Don't you have in your heart dreams and visions of who you are that just don't go away-no matter how the world throws you curve balls, or how much you are discouraged by others? Well, this is my dream still, and in my gut, I know I will make it happen.
     So, one way to deal with curve balls, my way, I guess, is to not let them thwart you from your life's major dreams. I just go into "fix it" mode, and I never, never, give up on my dreams. Some might view this approach as an exercise in futility. Well, we'll see. I'll keep you posted on this one.
     Now, for my mother: as I write this, I am on an "end of life" watch with her, in her home, often sitting by her bedside. She's age 92-1/2 this month, and she's dying, slowly perhaps, but dying, nonetheless. After a year of having a severe case of shingles, which has kept her in pain almost all the time, and for which no medications or treatments seem to work, and just having been hospitalized for pneumonia, which she cannot seem to beat, she's tired - tired of living with discomfort, but afraid of dying.
     My mother is a courageous woman of strong character, but none of us knows how we'll face our own death. She's working through it, talking about it, worrying about it, and yet inevitably going down the path toward experiencing it. What was the curve ball for her, because we all expect to die someday?
     My mother has had the good fortune to be healthy most of her life, until about age 85. She was only hospitalized to have her two children. She had the energy and the vitality of someone never knocked down by any major health problem. At age 85, however, things started happening. First, her eyesight started to deteriorate with macular degeneration, which has become progressively worse so that now she has no central vision-she cannot drive, nor read, nor really watch TV, all pleasures she enjoyed immensely.
     Then she had a bad fall, hit her head, and a brain scan showed a benign tumor. Later she was diagnosed with CLL (a form of leukemia), which meant her immune system was compromised, although she would not die of the disease. The last straw, a year ago, was when she came down with a severe case of shingles, which has worn her down with chronic, excruciating pain. She's had pneumonia twice in this past year, due to low immunity, and after this last episode, she came home from the hospital under hospice care about two weeks ago.
     While these physical difficulties have broken Mother's spirit and desire to keep on living, it's the emotional shock that is the real curve ball for her-one I think she will not survive. For most of her life, she lived in a safe world, where nothing changed much, where no bad things happened to her husband, children, or herself. It was a controlled environment really, and she thought that she was in control of it. Well, our health can break down for a lot of reasons-cumulative poor eating habits, lack of exercise, and stress-all factors in my mother's case. But I think the biggest stressor of all for my mother has been the loss of control-the understanding that curve balls really do happen, and sometimes we just can't do a thing to stop something like loss of eyesight, or a disease that no medication seems to help.
     Some will say that thinking we have control over our lives is an illusion to begin with; I tend to agree. But we all like to believe that we can create our destiny, direct our path in life, and we do many things where that is true - such as getting a good education, deciding to marry or not, choosing a place to live. Still, "LIFE" intervenes sometimes, and often, as with my mother, we choose not to change our day-to-day (health) habits in time to thwart the results of long-term actions, or inactions, that are detrimental.
     So what has been the result for my mother of experiencing the curve ball of declining health and independence? Depression, sadness, hurt, disappointment, and a sense of being a victim. I would never have imagined my cheery, outgoing Mom to develop such severe emotional reactions. Yes, she was always a worrier, but never like this. And the tough thing to watch is how she, at this late stage, is helpless to alter her view of what has happened to her, unable to adapt to the changes that have occurred with any sense of internal peace or acceptance.
     She quit eating, or drinking much water. She dug into her internal trench to wait for a better outcome. That weakened her even further in her ability to fight off pneumonia, or to deal with the shingles pain. She lost forty pounds, and a new swallowing problem now keeps her from eating or drinking well enough to gain back the ground she's lost. It's been a snowball effect on her health.
     Now, in her final months, perhaps weeks, I do see a lessening of the anxiety she has had for this past year. She finally said to me, "It's no good, Carol. Life this way is no good." Oh, that tears at my heart, for I am saddened that her final year has been like this and that this is what she has had to experience at the end of her life.
     So, you might say that one way of dealing with curve balls is to be in denial that anything has changed. That's what my mother has done for seven years-thinking she'll drive again, thinking her eyesight will improve, thinking the shingles will go away. Until, now, she has no alternative, but to recognize that none of those hoped for reversals of fate will ever happen. Fighting the truth of one's life is wearing, it's brutal, it's demoralizing, and yet we often do, because the alternative, acceptance of that truth, seems untenable at the time, for a time, until much, much later, when all that we can face is the truth. And that's where my Mother is now.
     Looking at this result for her, I guess what I would like to do, going forward with my own future curve balls, is what I try to do when life gives me lemons: make lemonade. Make the best of something; try to find the silver lining in the clouds. We have so many metaphors about dealing with life's curve balls, tragedies, difficulties. The other coping skill is to learn something from these tough times. What would I do differently now, looking back on those curve balls? Seeing my own father's bad health following a stroke at age 66, and now Mother's situation, you can bet I have been, and will continue to be, doing everything I can to take care of my health-proactively, from racing in triathlons to eating well, and, having bounced back from an early case of breast cancer myself, making good health a major focus of my life.
     Another lesson I've learned from curve balls is to do now the things you're putting off that are pleasures or dreams in your life. Travel now. Say important words to loved ones now. Take your own heartfelt dreams seriously now. Now. Now. Now. Time waits for no one, and your time is Now. My time is Now. "Do it Now," as the Nike ad says.
     So, if we can accept the curve balls, find the lessons in them, react proactively to the gift of the learning in them, we can still look forward to the life we have-even though it's been altered, even though loved ones may pass on, and even though certain dreams must be adjusted to make them happen. We can not only cope with what life dishes out, but we can thrive, adapt, and grow from these unexpected, perhaps unwanted experiences. Good luck with your curve balls, because one thing is certain-few of us, if any, will escape this lifetime without a few of them coming our way.
[Editor's Note: Carol's beloved mother died over the weekend of July 8-9. We send our deepest condolences to her and to her family.]

Shelby Smith-Sanclare, Ph.D. is a Business and Personal Coach who works with individuals and organizations to break preconceived patterns and create new and innovative ways to blaze ahead in their strategic thinking, decision making, and action taking. She brings experience and training in the fields of research, training, strategic planning, environmental design, organizational management, and business consulting. Shelby is a CoachU graduate and a member of the International Coach Federation. She has lived abroad working with both locals and expatriates in making business and personal life choices. Contact her at (505) 237-2005, or email her at .

sn't it just like Life to sideswipe us with the unexpected?
     I'll be rocking along with the flow and be pretty happy with what is, or at least think I'm managing pretty well with the various problems and activities at hand. Then, out of the blue comes an event that blows me out of the water. The car won't start and I have a meeting to get to in 15 minutes; I notice a large puddle of water right below the water heater outlet, and in all that confusion my indoor cat escapes and heads for the mesa. In the distraction, I twist my ankle on a pebble, fall, and tear a gash in my knee and my pantyhose. Suddenly my life seems to fall into chaos and all the little nagging things that had been pushed way in the back of my mind come face-front and add their input to the situation.
     Another "sidewinder" that also seems to break down our defenses and balance happens around work situations. For example, you have a deadline; three crucial pieces of information from others are missing, and your computer starts sending you funny messages just before the screen goes blank. Nothing that you do seems to get responses from your colleagues, the computer has lost all your files, including the current project, and just then your boss announces that some Quality Assurance reps. from the main office are here for a spot inspection and they are starting with your section.
     If the above seem harmless enough, think about the ones even closer to the heart. You become gravely ill or a dear relative or a friend becomes ill or dies unexpectedly. The company you work for and have your pension invested in suddenly declares bankruptcy, closes its doors, and announces that the pension funds you were due to receive in another three years are gone - along with your job.
     There are no glib answers or palliatives for situations like these, and saying,
     "Change is the only constant in life" doesn't quite cut it, either. So what can I offer to you or me that can help build the resiliency and momentum to move through such circumstances?
     Notice that I didn't use words like, "avoid," "overcome," "circumvent," or "dodge." These events are "Life with the capital L." They happen. If we try to avoid or ignore them, they don't just disappear. We are called to do something with our thoughts and feelings as well as with our actions.
     While there are things to do in those crisis moments, the eventual answer lies not in the moment of crisis but before, and if we are fortunate, we have prepared ourselves long before such events occur. Here are some questions to answer:

Do you daily practice some form of meditation, contemplation, prayer, or quiet time free from any distractions? Are you able to go to that calm, still place at will, even when there is hustle and bustle of daily activities going on around you? A meditative practice of five to ten minutes a couple of times each day can be enough to re-center and refocus.

Are you aware of your breathing and have you developed a habit of deep breathing? The difference between anxiety and excitement is just that one deep breath away, and we tend to breathe shallowly or hold our breath in a crisis.

Have you acquired some type of talisman that you keep close at hand, that acts as a physical reminder to stay centered and focused? Perhaps it is an amulet or worry stone, prayer beads, a necklace, your watch, or even a place you can tap on your arm or head that you can touch in moments of stress.

Are you willing to experience all of your feelings and not distract yourself from or avoid the more unpleasant ones? Anger, fear, and deep sorrow are not pleasant to experience, but practicing how to recognize, acknowledge and work with them - not against them - is vital to our well-being.

Have you learned to distinguish between your thoughts and your feelings? It is enough to simply feel what we feel. We tend to complicate and stay stuck when our thoughts begin to attach themselves to the feelings. Guilt, worry, blame, and those always, nevers, shoulds, oughts, and can'ts, that tend to be part of each sentence we are telling ourselves, act as anchors to sink us further into an emotional tailspin. No wonder we want to avoid such combined thought-feelings!

Have you practiced recognizing the difference between what is actually true about a situation and what your mind is telling you that may be false - or at the least merely a misaligned interpretation of it? Here's a hint: if you are saying something about the future, you are predicting, not stating the truth about the current situation. If you are saying something about the past, you are dredging up past experience to attach to the current one, and they are distinct from one another.

Have you practiced being willing to take action or to sit with inaction - even when that alternative may be extremely difficult? Of course, the wisdom is in knowing what to do in the situation, but a clue is that the action comes from conscious choice rather than from an unconscious reaction or compulsion.

Do you exercise daily? A time out with a brisk walk can help to clear one's head and burn off some excess adrenaline at the same time. Then, an answer to the stressful situation may become apparent.

Do you eat nutritiously and sleep well? Nothing fortifies us more for a surprise occurrence than to be fully nourished and alert. The body, then, has the reserve to endure a period when we loose our appetite or can't sleep for a day or so while working through the situation.

Are you practicing saying "Yes" to the challenges of change and letting go-even change you don't like or didn't want? I'd like to paraphrase what Lama Surya Das has said about letting go. He cautions that when we hold on to what is slipping through our fingers by gripping too hard-as everything does eventually-we must be careful not to get rope burns.

     Yes, all the above do sound like the advice your family physician or mother might give or have given you. They are time proven and important skills for the mind-body balance when Life is surprising us with that sucker punch to the gut.
     The last thought I have is one that comes from all the great spiritual traditions: let go and trust that everything is perfect in each moment. If we are being asked to let go of what we think it "ought" to be and examine the situation for what it is, then right action, or inaction, and the strength to do just that perfect thing then leads us to the next step on our journey. That may mean going through a grief process, developing a new strategy for action, or merely listening quietly in support of someone else.
     Your strength and courage in these crisis moments may surprise you. More than that, it will give you the assurance that you can respond to future events with more care and confidence. This is what training and preparation are about. These are the tasks of the hero writing history, moment by moment.
     Yes, you are making history and may you avoid too many rope burns along the way!

Lenann McGookey Gardner is a Harvard M.B.A. and independent management consultant specializing in improving companies' sales and marketing results. She works with smaller businesses, as well as large companies, worldwide, and she also coaches individuals to higher levels of professional accomplishment and satisfaction. Call Lenann at 505.828.1788 when you want to grow your sales by closing the most desirable, highest profit business. Lenann is a winner of the American Marketing Association/New Mexico's Professional Services "Marketer of the Year" award, and is profiled in the 2006 edition of Who's Who in America. Visit her on the Web at www.YouCanSell.com.

CURVE BALL? LIFE THREW ME AN ATOM BOMB!
our members of my immediate family passed away over the last year.
     In answer to your question, two were older, and two were not.
     One was a suicide - a much-loved, charming, handsome man in the prime of life, who was married to my dear daughter, and was the love of her life.
     A fifth member of my immediate family has just been diagnosed with leukemia. And an opportunistic infection that had nothing to do with the leukemia, but did have to do with his chemotherapy-compromised immune system, tried to kill him, too.
     On the one-year anniversary of my Dad's death - the day, I had decided, that our "year from hell" would end - I found myself in the Intensive Care Unit of the UCLA Medical Center with an inert person, the leukemia sufferer, who could have died in my arms and it would not have surprised me one bit.
     He has since recovered. He's normal. And he's looking forward to the next round of chemo.
     But I feel like a punching bag!
     Now, I have a business. I have obligations. I'm a serious, focused human being. But it's impossible to have gone through all of this and not missed a beat.
     I missed several beats. But I'm going on.
     What have I learned?
     Life is a series of challenges. (Duh.) There is the potential for happiness, despite the pain; in fact, I think the presence of pain in one's life makes one appreciate the joyful aspects of life all the more. I really do believe that!
     There are strategies we can adopt. Most of them involve stopping crying in one's soup, and getting OUT. Even for the worst, most terrible crisis - the suicide - there is an organization called SOS (Survivors of Suicide), where other shocked people come, empathize and truly understand.
     It's possible to focus on LIFE. The dead people are ... dead. But there are living people who need support and interaction. My daughter and I volunteer at a local organization that provides childcare to homeless small children. We work, one morning a week, with homeless infants. They're alive. And they don't have pleasant circumstances for their lives. We try to make their living a little more pleasant, and hope that, while the babies are with us, their parents will get the jobs, earn the income, and find the housing they so desperately need, so that "our babies" will grow up in stable homes, rather than sleeping in shelters, in the back seats of cars, or on relatives' floors.
     It's helpful to get grief counseling. There are therapists who specialize in this. And they help you grieve, experience your loss, and start to conceive your life without the lost loved ones.
     It's essential to keep moving. I have to go to the gym, and if I don't get there, I get on my treadmill and RUN. Getting physically tired and sweaty doesn't just give me cardiovascular benefit, it also gives me stress relief.
     And it's OK to do nice things for myself. I get massages a couple of times a month. I get my nails done weekly. I make time for the occasional pedicure. I connect with my friends, who are scattered geographically, more often than before. And I ask for their help.
     I took a class called, "So You Want to Be a Torch Singer". And I sang in public, in dangly earrings.
     I write poetry, on the computer, fast, and when I read back through it, I see the progress of my feelings. I help put on wonderful memorial services, where the people I love are remembered, laughter happens, and we think of them with joy as well as sorrow. I've become very skillful at writing eulogies and obituaries, and I don't run away, much, from my feelings of loss, nor from my feelings of love for those who are gone.
     Loss has always been a part of my life - my mother died when I was a tiny girl. But I've been fortunate that, since then, there have been no major, unexpected deaths in my family. Till now.
     When life threw me, and my family, this "curve ball" of a year, we learned that we could lean into each other. I appreciate them more. I feel more vulnerable - especially since I'm having yet another birthday tomorrow - but I'm happy with what I'm doing with my life overall, and I'm looking for opportunities to be helpful to other people, whether as a consultant or as a friend.
     I didn't ask for this curve ball, but I am learning from it. And this dose of reality probably makes me a more effective consultant, who can understand even more about my clients' challenging life experiences after having lived through this tough year myself.
     If you would like to help support the organization where my daughter and I are volunteering, please send a check to:

Cuidando Los Ninos
P.O. Box 12786
Albuquerque, NM 87195.

     Cuidando Los Ninos, which means "Caring for the Children", is a 501(c)(3) not-for-profit corporation, so your contribution is fully tax-deductible. CLN provides childcare for homeless infants, toddlers, and preschoolers, and services to their parents to help them get into housing. 74% of the homeless families who finish CLN's program complete it in housing and giving back to society by paying taxes.

Janet L. Hall, owner of Alternative Wellness Center in Albuquerque, is a Certified Kinesiologist, Certified Herbalist and Emotional Facilitator. Her success and reputation for helping others have brought her clients worldwide. She is a consulting Kinesiologist and nutritional counselor for various organizations; a facilitator for Life Change Integrations; a health and well-being author for various websites and magazines; and teaches and facilitates kinesiology, herbal and emotional courses. A member of Energy Kinesiologists of the U.S. and the American Herbalists Guild, she has also appeared on public stations KNME-TV/Channel 5 and KUNM Radio, 89.9-FM.

If you wish to comment on this article, or if you would like a life empowerment & change integration to increase the enjoyment of your journey, contact Janet at (505) 294-WELL (9355), or e-mail her at .

hen bad things happen to good people, they say that it can bring great pain, but with it, the greatest of gifts. My story is quite like that. Fourteen years ago, May 30, 1992 (the day of my thirty-second birthday), tragedy struck in the worst way. It was to alter my life and my children�s lives forever.
     We discovered that my husband was missing early that day. By 6:00 that evening, we had some family and friends out looking for him. The day turned into night and at 10:45, I held a picture of him in my hands. I put it to my heart, and something inside told me he would not return. How I hoped that this message was wrong! He was a painter. He owned his own company, and had developed great artistry working with special finishes. He often worked in very high places and the thought occurred to me that perhaps he might have fallen; but because he had several jobs going on simultaneously, I didn�t know which job location he might have gone to.
     I tucked in my two older children that night, and assured them that he would be home soon. I stayed up all night going over all his records trying to find out what job he was supposed to be at that day and talking with a policeman who knew us. About 4:00 in the morning, one of the people who had offered to search for him knocked at the door. My mother, who had graciously stayed with me throughout the night, let him in. I was in our rocking chair, nursing my 10-month-old son. I quickly stopped and rushed to the door, anxious to hear news about my husband.
     I don�t think I will ever forget the words I heard next. �We found him, and it�s not good. He�s dead.� I could feel the shock like a wave coming over my body, starting at my hands and engulfing my entire being. Feeling the awful tingling sensation, that seemed to be taking my breath, I gasped and fell to my knees on the floor, my baby falling with me. My mother reached out and caught my infant�s head in her hands. I was still gasping and started to cry, but with a sudden jerk, I caught my breath because I had to know what happened.
     �W-was it an accident...d-did he fall?� I managed weakly. His answer was, �No, he killed himself.� By then, my brother had come into the house and I begged him to tell me this man was wrong. I began to scream out, �NO! NO! NO! He has kids! He has kids! He wouldn�t do that! I know he wouldn�t do that!� I turned frantically to my mother begging her to tell me it wasn�t true! I grasped her face in my hands pleading with her to tell me it wasn�t so! I don�t know how my mother ever endured that painful moment with me, but I love her so dearly for remaining at my side.
     My husband had rigged his vehicle to cause carbon monoxide poisoning, and had taken a bottle of pain/sleeping pills that had been prescribed for me for a car accident injury from which I had not yet recovered. He had had a long history of depression, yet an outcome like this I had never even considered, dreamt, or imagined. It was not possible. How could a hard-working, sweet and loving man, who loved his family and dearly cherished his three children, make a choice to leave life?! It was absurd. It stunned everyone who knew us.
     The rest of those who had been looking for him began to arrive at my house, and the noise was sure to awaken my other two children. My sister arrived and said, �I�m so sorry, Jan, but you�ve got to tell the kids; they�ll wake up soon and walk into all of this, not knowing.�
     The walk down the hallway felt like I was walking to my own death sentence. My legs felt like lead and I could hardly move. How was I going to tell my two beautiful children that the one person they adored in the whole world, who played with them endlessly, was never going to be with them again? It was beyond words to describe the pain that would soon be inflicted on an innocent 11-year-old boy, who was his father�s constant companion, and on the beautiful nine-year old girl who was �daddy�s princess.� And what of my tiny, 10-month-old toddler who couldn�t understand, nor speak his grief?!
     We later found out that when I had held his picture to my heart at 10:45 that night, this was the approximate time he had died. I often say it seems so long ago, yet it can, at times, feel like yesterday. I have learned so much since then. My children and I slowly learned to turn tragedy into triumph, but it felt like the longest, most difficult road to recovery. All in all, I think almost every perspective we ever had about life has changed.
     Our bodies were not made to experience shock, trauma and grief. Those things go against everything that keeps us healthy. When it is at an extreme level that our body cannot process, the mind stores the information, and the energy it takes to store the information takes away from our being currently present to life. The pain was so deep, so great, and so intense, that I went into shock and remained there for several years. And it seemed, sadly, that my three children lost both their parents that day. My desperate condition would continue for quite some time.
     Each morning, when my hand fell across the empty pillow beside me, even before I opened my eyes, I sobbed inside. �This just can�t be real. He wouldn�t do that!� I thought. �It can�t be!� I begged God endlessly to wake me from this terrible dream. I felt it was more than I would ever be able to bear.
     I felt deep abiding guilt for not knowing, for not having helped him. I had loved him from the depths of my soul, cherished him beyond words. We had been married for 16 years. He was my high school sweetheart, and we had married when we were both 17. It took me a year to even think about removing his things from what had been �our� room.
     Guilt all but consumed my very breath each time I looked at my own children, that I did not somehow save their father for them. I felt I had been bared to the world, and was nakedly exposed, suddenly ashamed of my very existence. In my spiral down into a deep depression, I felt I was not worthy of life because I had failed so greatly.
     I had had a car accident just a few months prior to his death and my body was in constant pain. My emotional state intensified the pain, making it intolerable. I could not eat because I had just had jaw surgery for TMJ. Even crying hurt, and gave me an unbearable headache. One medication after another was prescribed for me: anti-depressants... sleep meds... pain and anti-inflammatory drugs... anti-anxiety pills... and digestive meds. I remember thinking, �I�m breathing - that means I�m alive.... but I feel like the living dead.�
     Inside my head, I believed I had no hope of recovery. My heart seemed to die the day my husband did. I believed that my life was over and felt it down to the depths of my soul. My parents saw to it that someone stayed with me each day. Even when they themselves were exhausted, they would make the long drive to where I lived and back home again late at night, or would stay over, bless their souls. But nothing was enough. I was hospitalized many times for depression and anorexia. Those days are a blur, and I truly can�t recall several of those years. The medications kept me in a zombie-like state. You would think that they would have helped ease the pain inside, but it seemed nothing would take it away.
     Within a few years, my oldest son turned to drugs to try to numb the unforgettable and constant pain. My daughter was lost in anorexia and attempted to take her own life. It was a miracle she survived. Her older brother found her when it was almost too late. My little one constantly carried his daddy�s picture all over the house and with each person who entered, he would show the picture and though he could not speak, you could see the questions as well as the sadness and grief on his little face: �Where is he?� What happened?� He needed desperately to understand. After all, Jim had been the kind of father that all the children ran outside to meet, squealing with delight when he would come home from work.
     As a family we felt disconnected from each other and from our community, who could not relate to suicide. All of the children were separated, even from each other, in their own world of guilt and pain, because each of them thought he or she had caused his death. The oldest thought he surely caused it because he didn�t go to work with him that day as his father had asked him to. He had wanted to attend a party with me. After that, he couldn�t stand to go to parties.
     My daughter had had a silly little squabble with her father the night before - about what, none of us can even recall. She all but stopped speaking, and became partially catatonic. People, shocked by his death, remarked that maybe it was the responsibility of having a third child that threw him over the edge, when he�d had to claim bankruptcy the year before. I was constantly plagued by their questions: I was the adult, why didn�t I see it? Though things appeared as they always had - he would have bouts of depression and then seem to get over it for a while - I beat myself up endlessly for not knowing that he was potentially suicidal. All four of us were literally drowning in a sea of pain.
     I finally connected with a wonderful therapist through the �Survivors of Suicide� group. Her life had been cruelly invaded by suicide as well, but she was healed. She could love life again and had such a kind, sweet, heart. I was not just another patient to her. She personally showed me she cared and, having experienced such pain herself, truly wanted us to survive.
     This woman fought for my family! She fought for us to live, even when life was too painful for us to care to live anymore. She tried endlessly to reach my heart and instill a desire for life again. She took me as a client, knowing that I had no money because the life insurance proceeds were denied us due to the suicide. My sweet father was funding anything he could for me, but the costs were extreme. My therapist went above and beyond her professional responsibility in so many ways. She helped me to heal and has supported, encouraged, and mentored me for the last fourteen years. My children and I will always love her dearly, and it is beyond words to describe how we feel about her.
     In addition to my caring, supportive parents and this incredible therapist, I am so grateful to my wonderful best friend for helping to keep me alive by calling me on a daily basis. Despite all of this support, however, my body began to break down rapidly. I remember feeling as if the pain was crystallizing in my body. What a remarkable thought that was, because we soon discovered that I had gallstones and my digestive system refused to work. Soon, I had gallbladder surgery. The next thing I knew, I was being told I had breast cancer.
     I think I felt a small sense of relief: finally, here is something that will end my pain. Death, from anything other than suicide, sounded like a blessing... until I thought of my children. I had been so terrified that something might happen to my children! I realized that I could not bear one more thing. Suddenly, my focus changed. My children could not go through that! At that moment, I felt a shift inside. I would fight to the end, to never see them go through premature, untimely death again. It was a definite wake-up call!
     My brother, of whom I am so fond, came in from out of town, where he lived, and upon seeing the state I was in, dragged me off to a Kinesiologist. I felt her warmth and caring, and she gave me hope. She helped wean me off the medications, and a hint of �me� began to appear. I was amazed that she could �listen� to my body using Kinesiology and help me physically, but also know what my thoughts and feelings were, which I could not express. I felt her grace and it touched my heart - a heart that had been so closed off for so very long. She expressed faith in me and encouraged me. She spent extra time with me at the expense of her practice. She treated my whole being and soon, I was free of cancer.
     I will never forget all those who were part of my recovery and they will remain dear to me forever. I became a Kinesiologist through the Department of Vocational Rehabilitation, which paid for my schooling (I had been on disability), and began to search the world over for emotional therapies. After all, I had three children who needed my help to recover as soon as I was able! Today, I have three grown children who have recovered, are beautiful human beings, and who assist me in my clinic to help others who are ill, depressed, lost, or wounded and hurting, just like we were. I have also been blessed with three more beautiful children (grandchildren, that is!) and now, life, to me, is the most precious thing I could ever have.
     My practice has been successful for almost ten years now, and I love my work. The kids and I have a passion for helping people not only survive, but live and thrive! I think back on what made the difference for me: first of all, the love of family and others, along with a very skilled and special therapist. The medication that kept me alive, and which was necessary for a short period of time, also seemed to prolong my condition. I could not pull out of it. When I received alternative care for my whole being � mind, emotion and spirit, along with love, support and a lot of positive reinforcement - that was when I came back to life and brought the children back to life with me.
     If I had it to do all over again, I would trash the idea that my life was over! I�d get rid of the negative beliefs that it was my fault somehow, and that I�d never deserve to be loved again! All those beliefs were working to end my life, and my body was finding a way to help the process along by developing cancer.
     If I had to do it all over again, I would start the alternative care immediately and work on my entire being. After all, it was my entire being that had just been crushed by trauma. I was devastated - physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually and socially. My experience shows that working on healing all levels of our being at the same time is the true meaning of �wholistic� healing. It is the way of the true alternative practitioners: to find everything the person needs and the quickest, most powerful route to healing.
     Unfortunately, people go through many different types of tragedies in life. By telling my story, it is my hope that they too, will not give up and will find what they need: to recover and be supported by loving people, such as those who came into my life. My experience has taught me more that I could ever relate in this article. What are the most important things, you might ask? Gratitude and passion! Gratitude for the preciousness of life! And, the passion to live with joy every moment of every day! The logo I chose for my clinic is of a picture of the sun rising above the clouds and the words �Rise Above!� I am living proof that you can rise above adversity. It has become my passionate life mission to help others do the same through my clinic.
     For any of you who love poetry � these poems have meant so much to me over the years:

     Though nothing can bring back the hour,
of splendor in the grass, glory in the flower,
We shall grieve not, but rather find strength
in what remains behind;
Thanks to the human heart, by which we live,
its tenderness, its joy, its fears,
To me the meanest flower love can give,
is thoughts too deep down for tears.
                              William Wordsworth
And then the day came when the pain to remain the same,
                                      became greater than the risk it took to blossom...
                                                                               Unknown author

Jane Blume

Desert Sky Communications

Jane Blume

Jane Blume, editor/publisher of our Defining Women newsletter, celebrates 40 years of professional work in communications this year. Jane founded Desert Sky Communications in 1989 to help businesses, non-profit organizations and individual entrepreneurs "get the right messages to the right audiences." Desert Sky's services include public relations, marketing and advertising strategies and execution; writing and editing; corporate identity; photography; facilitation; and innovative radio programs. For more information, call Jane at (505) 294-1976, email to or visit www.desertskycommunications.com.

think it's fair to say that every one of us will be thrown at least one curve ball in life - and more than likely, we'll be on the receiving end of several.
     While I've generally had a very good life - with a long-term, happy marriage, two wonderful children and their spouses, great friends and colleagues, and a thriving business - Phil and I have had our fair share of setbacks and losses. Both of our fathers and other relatives we've been close to have died... we've lost jobs that we've liked or contracts we've wanted... our children have experienced disappointments... people we've known have been murdered... and Phil has been hospitalized for job-related depression, to donate a kidney to his brother, and for surgery for prostate cancer.
     Along the way, I've learned three important lessons about what to do when those curve balls come.
     Lesson Number One: Reach out for help, support and advice. Each time Phil went into the hospital, I notified our family and close friends because I knew I would need them in one way or another. When we traveled to Minnesota (where we had once lived for eight years) for both the transplant and prostate surgeries, I'll never forget how comforting it felt to stay in the homes of old friends; to have trusted friends take care of our children while we devoted our attention and energies to dealing with the transplant surgery; and to have our son escort us when the prostate surgery was scheduled.
     As my father lay unresponsive in a Brooklyn, New York hospital due to a massive and ultimately fatal stroke, my sister and I took some time to visit with a friend of hers who had known my family for years. We told a lot of stories and shared a lot of memories that made us all laugh and cry, and the experience strengthened me, particularly, to face the inevitable.
     Lesson Number Two: Acknowledge your grief and mourn your losses. If we do not go through a process such as this (which I admit can be, and usually is, very difficult), the unacknowledged pain can come back to haunt us sooner or later. The pain will manifest itself either physically or emotionally.
     As an example of what can happen: in 1981, I was laid off from the position of public affairs director of a non-profit, community radio station in Portland, Oregon. It was a job that I loved and with which I had achieved many successes over a four-year period. The day after I officially left my position, I came back as a volunteer to do the weekly radio show I had created. It was a mistake to return so quickly because I felt totally disoriented as soon as I walked in the door. Four years elapsed before I could summon up the courage to go back into the job market.
     Fortunately, I learned that second lesson: in August of 1994, I was not offered the permanent job as general manager of our local public radio station after giving the place my heart and soul and accomplishing much as interim GM for two years. I was exhausted and disheartened when I left, and chose to simply rest and spend a lot of time in bed for the remainder of the year. When I re-opened Desert Sky Communications the following January (I had closed it down to concentrate on this difficult, demanding job), I was able to face the future with some real confidence.
     Lesson Number Three: Take care of yourself as much as possible. In March of 1986, Phil was notified that his employment contract at a hospital in Portland, Oregon would not be renewed when the contract expired at the end of the year, and I was laid off from my exciting job with an opera company five months after we learned that devastating news (which is what eventually led us to move to New Mexico). As you can imagine, we went through many stressful moments - and I spent quite a bit of time taking long walks around our neighborhood to (fortunately, successfully) fight off anger, sadness and depression.
     When I wasn't hired to run the public radio station on a permanent basis, and even though I believed that a critical part of the selection process had been handled unethically, I rejected the suggestion that I file a lawsuit. I sensed that a legal action would consume all of my time, prevent me from getting on with my life, cause an enormous amount of stress, and might make me persona non grata at the station. Instead, I took the long rest I described above and re-opened my business when I felt totally renewed and refreshed.
     Today, Desert Sky Communications is doing quite well (New Mexico Business Weekly has ranked it the Number Three PR firm in the state), and I remain involved with the radio station, hosting programs there on a volunteer basis.)
     Although it might be tempting to "muddle through" all by ourselves when that curve ball hits, it is not a course I would recommend. No person "is an island," said the poet John Donne. While we all need to spend some time alone recovering from what has happened, in the end, we all need to reach out to others. One day, you will need help; and one day, someone will need you.

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	"So, one way to deal with curve balls, my way, I guess, is to not let them thwart you from your life's major dreams. I just go into "fix it" mode, and I never, never, give up on my dreams. Some might view this approach as an exercise in futility. Well, we'll see. I'll keep you posted on this one."
	"I'll be rocking along with the flow and be pretty happy with what is, or at least think I'm managing pretty well with the various problems and activities at hand. Then, out of the blue comes an event that blows me out of the water. ... Suddenly my life seems to fall into chaos and all the little nagging things that had been pushed way in the back of my mind come face-front and add their input to the situation. "
	"Life is a series of challenges. (Duh.) There is the potential for happiness, despite the pain; in fact, I think the presence of pain in one's life makes one appreciate the joyful aspects of life all the more. I really do believe that!"
	"Our bodies were not made to experience shock, trauma and grief. Those things go against everything that keeps us healthy. When it is at an extreme level that our body cannot process, the mind stores the information, and the energy it takes to store the information takes away from our being currently present to life."
	"While I've generally had a very good life - with a long-term, happy marriage, two wonderful children and their spouses, great friends and colleagues, and a thriving business - Phil and I have had our fair share of setbacks and losses."