love Archives - Laurell K. Hamilton

The War Does Not End at Home

To all the Veterans and those who love them,

My cousin’s war was Vietnam. I don’t know what happened to him, but from things I heard he came back earlier than expected. I don’t truly know why, just bits of my uncles talking when they didn’t think I was old enough to remember or understand. He seemed sad, that I remember. Whatever happened while he was gone it changed him, but like my uncles before him about their own wars no one talked about it at least not with little girls or women in general. It would take me years and dating men who had served to realize that men don’t talk to anyone about it, not even each other. Oh, they’ll tell stories especially if they can spin it for humor, or bragging rights, but they don’t talk about it in the way that I had assumed they did. Maybe after a few drinks, or a lot of drinks. Sometimes you drink to remember, and then you drink some more to forget. That would change over the years, but back then men were men and that meant you didn’t talk about it. My cousin lived a long life after he came home from Vietnam. He got married, had a son, and would finally die suddenly during the covid lockdown. None of us talked about his paranoid delusions or that when he was at his worst my grandmother and I were afraid of him. It didn’t happen often, but it also didn’t happen until after he went away to war. To my knowledge he never went to the VA or tried to get help from them. No veteran I knew growing up ever went there for help.

I dated a man who served in Iraq. I’m a light sleeper, so I’d wake when he started to struggle in his nightmares. I’d pet him back to sleep before it got too bad and woke him. He said he slept better with me than anyone else, but there were nights when I missed my cue, slept more soundly and woke to find his side of the bed empty. I’d get up and walk through the dark until I found him in the living room on the couch not planning to sleep, but to maybe turn on the TV and lay there, or maybe just sit in the dark until dawn. I’d coax him back to bed, and we’d try again. I lay awake until his snoring let me know he was deeply asleep, and only then would I relax and sleep myself, but I tried to keep a hand on him, so I’d feel the first hint of the nightmares coming for him.

My boyfriend went to Afghanistan before we met. There were anger issues, but I had my own that I’d spent decades in therapy learning to control, so I said, work your issues and we’ll be okay. He went to therapy, he worked his issues, it got better. I am not a veteran, my anger had nothing to do with war foreign or domestic, but rage recognizes rage. There’s a kinship to having that much destruction inside you whether you aim it outward or inward, or a little bit of both. There was one infamous Thanksgiving that he put his fist through a wall. I waited until the next day when he was all smiles, and you’d think that the tempest had never happened except for the hole in the plaster board. I told him that if anything like that ever happened again, we were done, and he was moving out. He seemed shocked, but he believed me when I said it was a hard limit and nothing like that ever happened again. He did go to the VA for help and there were questions about sleep disturbances which he knew he had, but he didn’t know all of it, because he slept through it. Only those of us that had shared a bed with him could tell him that he cried out in his sleep, but never in English, usually in Arabic. Dream or memory, it never woke him. He’d stop yelling, and grow quiet, his breathing deep and even until the next time.

I knew my best friend before he joined the military. He thought he’d be going somewhere hot and sandy but ended up in a very different part of the world. He came back and like many military men do eventually became a police officer. I’ve been his phone call when the demons come, and the nightmares don’t wait for sleep. I’ve talked him down when I could hear his pistol on the other end being racked back, knowing there was one in the chamber. I knew what the sound was the very first time, it’s a singular sound nothing else quite like it. There’s also nothing quite like the fear that rushes through your body on the other end of the phone until your fingertips and toes tingle with the adrenaline as you realize that your voice is it, all that stands between the friend you’ve known since he was seventeen pulling the trigger. Words are what I do for a living, but I’ve never scrambled so hard to find something to say or prayed so hard for the right words in my life than I did those phone calls. The relief when we were finally able to get off the phone and he unloaded his gun and gave me his word he’d put it away for that night. I’m not sure I have the words to describe that kind of relief, the weakness that comes you’re your body as your own adrenaline seeps away. The grateful tears that your friend is still with you, and sometimes the hysterical tears, because I’m not trained to do this, I’m out a therapist. What if the next time I get it wrong and he pulls the slide back, puts that live one in the chamber and hangs up on me? What if he pulls the trigger while I’m listening and the sound of that shot, the sound I’ve been dreading lets me know I’ve failed, the final failure and lost my best friend? What if, what if, what if … but it didn’t happen, we’re safe. He’s remarried to a wonderful woman. He’s happier and calmer than I’ve ever known him to be. They have a little girl. Life is good. There haven’t been any nighttime phone calls in a very long time.

Times have changed since my cousin went to Vietnam. Men are talking about their pain and their experiences in the military and out of it. The VA is slowly becoming more responsive to the damage done to our men and women when they serve. It’s not perfect and it varies greatly depending on which part of the country your VA is in, but it is getting better. If you need help, please go get it. I know it sucks that getting help from the VA can be a fresh battle which is exhausting all on its own. Hang in there and remember you are worth it, you deserve it, the government sent you to war, they’re supposed to help you afterwards, damn it. For all those who aren’t veterans or related to anyone in the military, remember the soldier is not the war, or the government. Don’t yell at veterans when you want to yell at politicians, because usually the veterans would like to yell at the politicians right along with you. Be kind to each other out there, because you never know what nightmares the other person is carrying around with them, or how hard they are fighting just to keep going. You don’t have to have been in a real war to be struggling, but think about how hard the last few years have been on all of us, then add the memories and damage of having gone to war. That’s why we thank veterans for their service. It’s acknowledgment that the government has screwed them over even more than the rest of us.

20 things I’ve learned about true love –

1. If you dread going home to the love of your life, they aren’t.

2. If you’d been happily married over ten years and people tell you, you’re lucky, it’s not luck – you’ve all worked your asses off to stay this happy.

3. Mind blowing sexual passions can last for decades, but you both have to want it, crave it, work at it.

4. Yes, I said you have to work at keeping passion alive in your long term relationships. Why does everyone think that they can work at their careers, their friendships, their family, their kids, their hobbies, but that great sex will just take care of itself? It doesn’t.

5. Find someone who is passionate about you in the bedroom and out of it.

6. Talk to each other, not just about the bills, or who’s driving the kids to soccer practice, or who picked up the dry cleaning, but about things that interest you. Bring your stories, your dreams, your goals, your fancies to each other always.

7. Get in shape together, or at least at the same time. Keep each other healthy. Or at least don’t sabotage each other.

8. Don’t go to bed angry.

9. Don’t be afraid to go to couple’s therapy.

10. Don’t be afraid to push each other outside your comfort zones, but remember to find enough comfort in your lives for you to all be happy.

11. If something is bothering you in the relationship talk about it early, before resentment builds up.

12. Remember that most big fights aren’t about the dirty clothes on the floor, the burnt dinner, the missed appointment, or whatever you think you’re fighting about. It’s about how it makes your partner, or you feel. The dirty sock on the floor can be the straw that broke the camel’s back, but it’s not the whole camel.

13. Schedule couple time regularly and make sure you both agree on what that time is used for, or take turns deciding.

14. Schedule alone time, remember each of you was a whole person before you found each other. Being in a relationship doesn’t change that.

15. Being in love should help you be more of who you are, a better, happier version of you. If you feel worse, sad, and miserable, then something has gone wrong.

16. There will be days when you’re sad, exhausted, overwhelmed, that’s normal. Being in love, even true love, doesn’t mean being happy every minute of every day. Only worry when the bad days out number the good for months. The good should out weigh the bad in a relationship, but it won’t get rid of all the bad stuff in your lives. This is true love, not a Disney Princess movie. (With apologies to both Frozen and Frozen 2.)

17. Remember to kiss and cuddle often. Both are proven mood boosters, and help keep our pair bond with our partners stronger. This is science people.

18. Try to find someone who’s level of skin hunger matches your own. Do not assume that the level of passion in the early days is normal for both of you. Discuss your expectations for passion and touching as the years go by. You’d be surprised at the number of people that assume passion will cool and that’s normal. If you both agree on that, great, but if only half of you agrees that’s a problem. I’m not just talking sex here, but literally the amount of touching, hand holding, kissing, physical affection in general.

19. You can grow together as a couple, or you can grow apart from each other. Choose wisely.

20. Remember that falling in love is the beginning of your story together, not the end.

2020, a decade, and a new bird

It’s that time of year again, time for the first bird of the year. It’s a tradition among birders, bird watchers that the first bird you see on New Year’s day will be a theme for the year to come. It can be the first animal you see if you’ve been up for hours and seen no birds, which happened to me two years in a row with squirrels. The moment I owned squirrel as my power animal for the year, birds appeared. It was like magic. Those two years were about trying to balance work and play. The last two years it’s been dove, and I was really hoping, praying that it wouldn’t be a third year in a row. Why, you might ask, because dove is about matters of the heart and coming to terms with Goddess energy, feminine energy for me. Learning lessons of the heart is never easy, always worthwhile, but never easy. I was ready to get a message from the universe that I’d done my heart and love work to a point where I could move on. My husband, Jonathon, and I are closer than ever and have hit that deep abiding, contentment where the fire burns low and high, but never goes out, and we know how to throw more wood on our fire and get sparks. Eighteen years of marriage and we’ve never been happier as a couple and as individuals; yay, working your shit!

I’ll mention it here before someone else asks, our other halves, Genevieve and Spike, requested to not be part of my public persona a couple of years ago. They found the “fame” part of things uncomfortable. They are private people and deserve to have their personal life be as private as they wish, yes it was a bone of contention for awhile, but if you love someone you honor their wishes, so I have. It has been difficult, because I blog from my heart, and write from heart in many ways, though I write fiction. It’s made blogging about my life very difficult and is one reason I almost stopped doing it. I don’t know how to edit my real life the way I edit my fiction. This has been some of the heart and love work of the last two years.

I’m happy to say that this year’s bird is, Dark-eyed Junco. It’s a type of sparrow, though you’d never know it to see the charcoal gray and white body, or the black upper body with a white stomach, or a mostly charcoal body, or – they are incredibly varied in their plumage. There are even different colors for different regions of the country that look nothing like the birds we see here. They are winter birds here, arriving between October to November, or even as early as late September. You know the term, snowbirds for people who travel to warmer climates for winter and then return in the spring that’s exactly what Juncos do here. We’re their winter vacation spot.

Jonathon and I saw a small flock of Juncos at the same time this morning as we made coffee and wrangled breakfast. He called out, “Junco!” I actually turned away as if he’d called it and so it couldn’t be my bird of the year. I even walked to another window and everything was hiding from me, just movements in the trees, until I realized that there was no rule, no calling dibs on a bird. Once I owned that we had the same bird of the year for 2020 then suddenly I saw the downy woodpecker and the white-breasted nuthatch on the trees and bird feeders. It’s been like that every year, until I own the first bird/animal the rest of the world is quiet, then boom – birds and other animals everywhere.

If you think that sounds too mystical, all I can tell you is that it works that way for me. Also, we’re Wiccan, as in yes modern day Witches, which is a nature based religion, so paying attention to birds and other wildlife is a part of our faith. God and Goddess speak through nature all the time if you know how to listen.

If squirrel’s lesson for me was balancing work and play, and dove was about love and the divine feminine, what does Junco mean? My husband and I aren’t entirely certain yet. We’ll be meditating and paying attention as time goes by, but I’m pretty sure it has something to do with travel, maybe even moving. The Juncos were in a flock, so it could also be about group communications. Interpreting the lessons of nature isn’t always an exact science, but then most faith isn’t that simple, add magic and it can get a lot more complicated. So here’s to 2020, a new decade, and the year of the Junco!

Holidays and the Broken Pieces

Twenty years of allergy shots and I finally have a cat. My inner five-year-old is very happy.

Do we ever get over wanting our parents to approve of us? Do we ever get over wanting that Hallmark movie moment with them? For most of us the answer is, no. No matter how old we get, or how accomplished we are. There’s still a part of us that is five and wants to jump up and down, and say, “Look at me! Look at me!” Or fourteen and wanting that word of praise on the football field, or at the science fair, or just anywhere, any time from the person who raised us.

I think this is part of what makes the holidays so stressful for many of us, that we’re still chasing our parents’s approval. For many of us it’s a rigged game, like carnival games that no matter how good you are, you can’t win. You’re never going to get that stuffed panda, or an atta boy, or atta girl from your parent. So how do you keep those unmet needs from ruining your holidays, and maybe raining on everyone else’s?

Honor that excited five-year-old. Don’t tell yourself I’m twenty-four, or forty-four, and too old to still be stuck there. (I tried that for years and it just doesn’t work.) Honor that awkward fourteen-year-old that’s still stuck under the mistletoe with no one to love. You can have more than one inner child inside you feeling lost and alone, and they’ll be different ages, so honor them all. Honor that moment that you didn’t get your needs met, or when the world collapsed around you and part of you got stuck. Sometimes it’s a true trauma, a death in the family that you were too young to deal with, but it can be much less trauma worthy to the outside world and still have hurt you deeply. Don’t tell yourself that it wasn’t that big a deal that you didn’t get asked to the Christmas dance, not if your fifteen-year-old self is still stuck there feeling unloved and unwanted. Honor your teenage self by dragging the memory into the light and telling her it’s all right. If you have romantic partner tell them about it, and let them help you comfort that stuck part of you, and maybe just maybe you can begin to unstick yourself and heal.

If the hurt involves family sometimes you can share it with them and that can sort of exorcise the ghosts of past pain, but if the circumstances that caused the pain are still present they may not be much help. Or they’ll tell you, that was so long ago, why are you the only one holding onto that? Just because it wasn’t a trauma to your brother, doesn’t mean it wasn’t one to you, so honor your inner child and love yourself. Sometimes you can’t explain it to your birth family, but you, yourself can love and honor your own inner self. You can love your own inner child.

If at five you didn’t get the teddy bear Santa promised you, and there’s still a part of you that’s moping over that long ago Christmas, then go out and buy yourself a teddy bear. Sometimes literally you can parent that inner part of yourself. If that stuffed toy, or train set, or sparkly dress not being yours is still making part of you that unhappy, stop telling yourself you should be over it by now and gift yourself. Sometimes it can be that simple, and no one has to understand why that in the box mint train set means so much to you. The only one that really has to know is you and that inner five/ten/twelve year-old.

If your inner child is tired of your mother fixing your favorite vegetable every year, because it’s actually your sister’s favorite vegetable, and you actually hate black-eyed peas, then cook your very favorite vegetable and bring it with you. You know what your favorite things are, cook them, make them, and bring them yourself. I hear some of you out there saying, but I want my mother to acknowledge me, rather than her favorite which happens to be my sister. Well, yeah, so did I, but waiting for your parent to fix an issue they don’t realize is an issue, is sort of a losing proposition for you. If you’ve told your parent that it’s not your favorite veggie for years and they still can’t remember, then it’s not going to happen. I’m sorry, but you can fix your own favorite veggie and bring it, or bring the fixings for the dish and cook it there in your childhood kitchen. Think how empowering it is to not only fix your own favorite food, but to do it in the midst of all those childhood ghosts.

You do not have to wait on your family to acknowledge your pain, or your unhappiness. You can acknowledge it and act on it, because that way you are in charge of it. You can parent your own inner child rather than waiting for someone else, that puts the power to heal yourself in your own hands. You can love yourself and love your inner child/children. You can take control of it and be the adult you, yourself needs, or needed long ago. Empower yourself this holiday season and treat your inner child as if they were a real life child that could take your physical hand and look up at you. Do for that younger part of you what you couldn’t do then, and maybe it can still be the happiest time of the year.

When the Demons Come – Memorial Day 2018

Once I loved a military man. My husband and I dated him after he’d already come home with his wound and his medal. We’d go to sleep in a twist of sheets and warm bodies, me in the middle of my two men, but he’d wake in the middle of the night driven by dreams of those that didn’t come home with him. Things done and things left undone. I’d wake to find his side of the bed empty and I’d go searching in the darkened rooms. I’d usually find him on the couch not sleeping, but not wanting to wake anyone else. I’d coax him back to bed, asking him to let me hold him, even if he didn’t sleep, just come back to bed. I learned his breathing, the feel of his body, the change in weight as the demons came. If I could catch it soon enough I could pet him back to sleep. Caress him until his breathing evened out, his body relaxed beside me, and I’d cuddle back down between my two men. Some of the most peace I’d known was sleeping between my husband and our soldier. Until by the time we parted ways I missed his snoring, and had to relearn how to sleep without it.

I love a military man, he’s my best friend. I knew him before he put on a uniform, and I’ve known him ever since. He trusts me and I trust him. He trusts me enough that he knew he could call on the day that he had his gun in his hand. He didn’t tell me he had it, I heard the metallic clack-clack as the slide went back on the gun. There’s no other sound like it and I knew it meant he’d put a bullet in it and it was live. I knew he was sitting there on the other end of the phone with a loaded gun. I remember the spurt of fear, the panic as I thought, what do I do, what do I say? First, I told him I knew what that sound was, he’d known I would. No bullshit between us, no lies. I knew he was sitting there thinking about it, but I trusted him enough to believe I was his call for help, not his suicide note. I heard the slide go back again, knew he’d ejected the live bullet. I breathed a sigh of relief and kept talking. I tried doing the whole, all you have to live for speech. I tried to be comforting. The slide went back again. And that was it, I called him names, I asked how could he do to me what his friend’s death had done to him? How could he make his family feel the pain of loss he was feeling right then? I used some more colorful phrases, some of which he’d help me prefect over the years. I got angry at him, fuck softness and hand holding. If this was it, we were both going down fighting. I heard the slide go back again, and I yelled at him some more, that we weren’t doing this again, and he agreed. He put the gun up. I told him if he took the easy way out and I didn’t, then I won. I’d be the better man. What military man wants to lose to a girl?

I love another military man, and the demons wake him, too. The loss of his brother in arms haunts him. I’ve held him while he railed against the loss. I’ve held him while he screamed his rage at those that didn’t come home, and why was he alive, why him and not them? I helped hold him and finally screamed myself, until he could hear me. That I was glad he was alive. That I was glad he was in my life. That his brother would want him to live. That his lost friend wouldn’t want him to die with him, but to live, and to keep on living.

Memorial Day is to honor the dead who have fallen in defense of our country and our freedom, but we don’t just lose our soldiers to the violence of war. Every day twenty veterans commit suicide. Every day an average of twenty of our brave men and women that have served in our armed forces take their own lives. Every day, not just Memorial Day, not just Veterans Day, but every day.

We need to lower these numbers. We need to figure out how to help the men and women that we send to fight our battles for us.

If you, or someone you know, may be considering suicide, please reach out.

Veterans Crisis Line

Call 1-800-273-8255 ext 1

Or text 838255

Mission 22

http://www.mission22.com

Battle In Distress

http://www.battleindistress.org

Tragedy Assistance Program for Survivors

http://www.taps.org

Searching for the Perfect Pub Date and Happy Beltane!

Okay, the date for Crimson Death has changed again to October 11, 2016. I’m 99.999% sure that is the final on sale date. My editor at Penguin Random House told me days ago that they were changing the date so I could announce to all of you before they put it up on line. Media Minion Jess and I had a great idea to do a sort of Alton Brown explanation with a white board and props, but I’ve been trying to actually finish writing Crimson Death. So the cool announcement didn’t get made on our end. Jonathon says that we’ll make it on Monday if we want to try to do the cool props and such. If I’m still writing furiously on Monday then maybe that won’t happen until after this book is complete and the fun video will be more a “how this part of publishing” works. Until I was a bestseller and hitting #1 on a semi-regular basis I had no idea that a publisher plans placement of a “big book” like a general plans a battle. What other big books are coming out at the same time? What other books that are similar are coming out and when? The Publisher’s reps talk to the bookstores about physical placement in the stores. If the author is doing a tour, especially a big one, what other authors are on tour and what stores are they doing? We routinely follow each other around the country on tour just like musicians follow each other, and for many of the same reasons. That’s just a few of the considerations that go into picking a release date for what the publisher calls a “big book,” which seems to mean a book that they think will sell lots of copies, have a chance to hit #1 on The List, and has a wide audience appeal.
Also, this blog is going up on May 1st which is May Day, or Beltane. Think of it as Wiccan Valentine’s Day except without a saint having to give up his life to name the holiday. So Merry Beltane, everyone! Sadly, Hallmark does not have a card for this holiday. Wiccans’, and most pagan faiths, have eight major holidays a year – eight! Think of all the cards we’d send and merchandise we’d buy if corporate America embraced us as viable consumers. But I think that is a blog for another day. May the day be full of joy for you and everyone that you love in your life! That includes yourself, because love begins in your own heart and then spreads outward.

Life, Death, and Fiction

I’ve been having fits with the current book I’m writing. I’m over 500 pages in, over 200,000 words, and usually by this point in a book I’m writing as fast as I can, just to keep up with myself, but not this time. I’ll get a productive day, and then the next day it’s like all my momentum is gone. It’s like throwing a punch at the heavy bag without rotating your hips. You’re still going through the motions, but you’re leaving most of your energy somewhere else. Today I figured out what was wrong, someone is going to die.
I’m a writer of mysteries, police thrillers, with relationship growth and a huge dose of the supernatural thrown in, so there are usually dead bodies and a villain to stop. I like my fiction neater than real life, so the good guys usually triumph and the bad guys get punished, sometimes they get punished to death, which works for me in fiction. Like I said, it’s neater and more black and white than real life, at least in some areas. I try to make my vampires, zombies, and ghouls as realistic as possible, so there are also huge gray areas where my characters struggle with moral dilemmas and balancing work and relationships. Crime busting can be very hard on couples, or threesomes, or fourples, or any family arrangement.
I love my world and my characters, so why is this book dragging its heels? Because I have a character on stage that is in the hospital. I know what’s wrong with him, and I’d planned on saving him, but . . . I realize now that it may not work. He had another close call a couple of books back, though anyone reading the book wouldn’t have realized it because the moment in the climatic fight scene where he might have died didn’t make it into the final draft. When push came to shove, I couldn’t do it.
I’ve had this problem before where I’d planned on killing off a character, but we realize that I, and my main characters, would miss him. The most famous example of this to me and my fans is that I planned to kill Jean-Claude off at the end of the third book in the Anita Blake series. That’s right, the sexiest vampire on the planet, and now king of them in the United States in my world, though I didn’t see that one coming either, was supposed to die at the end of The Circus of the Damned. But when the moment came, I couldn’t do it. Anita and I would have missed him. I wanted him dead because he was taking over my series and stirring it in directions I hadn’t planned on, but I let him live. I was right on him taking my series to places I hadn’t planned on, or wanted to go. He was a very strong character with very definite Ideas about what should happen, and when, and with whom. It would be a very different series if Jean-Claude had died so early, and maybe I wouldn’t be writing the twenty-fifth book featuring him and Anita. Who knows what would have changed if I’d followed my original plan; so I’ve had this happen before, but never twice to the same character.
I knew he was slated to die at the end of a novel, and I flinched. He’s a good guy, we like him, what harm is it that he’s still alive? Well, he’s changing the game on me, not as profoundly as Jean-Claude did, but he is impacting my plans for the other characters and the world in general. If I leave this character alive, will it have as profound an effect on my series as Jean-Claude’s survival did? If so . . .do I want that? Or do I want to stay with my own over-arching plot line for the series? How much freedom do I give my characters? How much do I play god? He’s destined to die, should he get a reprieve?
I find myself regretting every time I kill a character off. I miss them. I miss writing them. I miss what the rest of their story might have been. It’s not even just major characters that I miss, even the minor-major ones, make me think, “If only . . .” I hate regrets, and unlike real life I have so many chances to undo it. I could write the death scene and then get up tomorrow and rewrite it so that he makes it. It’s one of my favorite things about writing fiction, I can always fix the mistakes tomorrow. In real life there aren’t take-backs, or do-overs, at least not for death. That’s about as final as we get in real life.
I’m going to break for lunch, but when I come back I have to decide. Does this character live, or die? Do we lose him forever? Or do we save him a second time? It’s bugging me a lot that this is the second time he’s come up on the chopping block. It must mean something to my subconscious that this same character keeps almost dying. Does it mean I’m uncomfortable with him? I was with Jean-Claude back in the day. Does it mean I don’t know what to do with him on paper? That he’s getting in the way of other characters that are staying? Maybe, maybe not? I don’t know, I really don’t. All I know for certain is that when I get back from a late lunch it’ll be go-time, and he will either live, or die.

The least wonderful time of the year

Christmas used to be my favorite holiday of the year, but that was awhile ago. I realized this year that I hate Christmas, the whole Christmas season, but unlike Dr. Seuss’ Grinch I don’t want to take the holiday away from everyone else, I just want free of it myself.

It’s Winter Solstice, the longest night of the year and the reason for all the celebrations near that astrological happening is that our ancestors were afraid that the sun might not return. They were an agricultural people that understood that without the heat of the sun, they were pretty much screwed, so they threw a party to invite the sun back, to wish him back to life and strength so that we could all live another year. It was the rebirth of the sun long before Christianity made it the birth of the son of God. I get throwing a great, big party to keep our spirits up. It’s like whistling in the dark when you hear that scary noise. We celebrate Winter Solstice because in the darkest, coldest part of the year we need to light a few candles against the dark, eat good food, drink strong spirits, visit with friends and family, play games, tell stories, and do all the things that make us feel positive and less afraid of the darkness. If that’s what the holiday was actually about, I could get behind that, even enjoy it, but that’s not what Solstice, Christmas, Yule, Hanukah – pick your holiday – has become.

The Winter Holiday season has become a billion dollar industry. It has become the time when a lot of businesses make the majority of their profit for the year and the only way they can do that is by us buying things from them. Now, there’s nothing wrong with that, I am a great fan of capitalism, being a capitalist myself, but the pressure to buy gifts, the perfect gift, and find that perfect gift year after year is a lot of pressure. The message that somehow if you don’t spend enough on your family, especially the children, that you’re bad parents. I love Santa Claus, but for those parents that can’t afford the big gifts, it is an ideal that leaves a lot of small children across the country disappointed on Christmas morning.

And let me just say now, I feel totally cheated by years of Hallmark and Folger’s Coffee commercials, because life is almost never like that, or at least my life wasn’t. These commercials, and others like them, are the romance novels of family life; they set unrealistic expectations that leave most of us feeling like there must be something wrong with us because we aren’t that warm, that loving, that perfect.

Real life is never perfect. It’s not supposed to be. So let me strike a blow for all of us that are struggling this Christmas morning with reality versus what we wanted the day to be. It’s okay that your dinner wasn’t perfect. It’s perfectly human to burn at least one dish, or have that turkey a little dry, or whatever went wrong with the big meal. Take a deep breath, let it out slow, and tell anyone that complains that next year they get to cook the dinner.

Did you not find the perfect present for everyone on your list? Me either. It’s okay, your friends and family love you anyway, and anyone who doesn’t love you because their gift didn’t meet their standards, why do you care? If they only love you for what you buy them, I’m not sure that’s love. Love really doesn’t have a price tag. Do the best you can, and then enjoy the day with your family. It’s about the people, not the things, try to remember that.

Now, if part of the problem is the family, that’s harder. If your family is not a positive in your life, then you do not have to spend the holidays with them. There, I’ve said it, if your family is toxic to you and spends most of the time criticizing and cutting you down, then you don’t have to stay and keep listening to it. If your family is so awful to you, or each other, that the idea of spending it alone sounds better, then do that. There really are those of us who have had points in our lives where spending the holidays alone was less stressful, or even less frightening, than spending it with our birth families. If you are in that place in your life, honor it. It is a privilege for your family to see you, not a right. Privileges have to be earned by good, loving behavior. Please remember, that if you only visit them when they are loving and good to be around, but they’ve never, ever been that, you may never see your family again. Are you okay with this? If so, then rock on, and enjoy your solo and less stress-filled holiday. If you are not okay with it, then ignore all this advice, good luck, and God speed.

This is supposed to be a holy day, regardless of what exactly that holiness means to you, it is still supposed to be a celebration of joy, light, love, and hope. Instead its become an emotional meat grinder for a lot of us. I want to like this holiday again. I want to feel hopeful that life can be like those tear-jerkingly happy commercials for more than a moment at a time. I want to feel a connection to community, family, and faith that’s in all the TV specials, but that seems scarce in real life. I want to really believe this is the most wonderful time of the year instead of the most stressful. I’m not sure how to get back to the wonderful and out of the stressful, but I am going to try. Here’s to next year, hoping it will be better, happier, healthier, less dramatic, less traumatic, safer, gentler, more happy excited than adrenalin pumping excited, productive, loving, hopeful, helpful, and just all together better. Blessed Solstice! Merry Christmas! Happy Hanukah! Merry Yule! Damn it!

Happy Thanksgiving 2015!

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! To those outside the United States of America its just another Thursday, but for us it’s Turkey Day! A day for family, food, and gratitude. What are you thankful for, is the question asked around our table each year. I try to pause frequently and make lists of what I’m grateful for, so I thought I’d share some of that list with you today.

I’m thankful for:
My sister, Pilar, who is with us this year, but will be moving out of the country soon. We don’t know when she and I will be together again. We’ll SKYPE and text, and call, but its never the same, so I am very grateful that my little sister can be with us for a few days.
Our daughter, Trinity, who is in college now. She’s with us this year, and doesn’t have any plans to move out of the country, but I’ve learned that plans change, and we’re happy she’ll be with us this year for sure.
My husband, Jonathon, who keeps making me believe that maybe there are romantic soulmates, after all.
Genevieve and Spike, the other halves of our domestic arrangement. We’ve lived together over a year now, and I think we’ve all learned more about ourselves, about love, and about what it takes to be in a committed relationship.
That I am polyamorous and have the chance to try for relationships as complex and rich as the ones I have in my life.
That I am a writer, and earn my living doing what I was born to do. I am even grateful for my deadline, because it helps keep me focused and motivated.
That it is a sunny, warm day after so many cold and wintry ones.
That Jonathon’s family is going to be able to join us for the meal today. We will think of those we have lost, but do our best to be truly grateful for those that remain.
For friends close at hand, and those faraway, who make life richer and more bearable.
For my best friend, he knows who he is, we are each other’s 3AM call, and have seen each other through divorce, the loss of parents, lost loves, found loves, illness, injury, and the dreams that get us through.
That I am healed enough to be back in the gym.
For the health and safety of those I hold dear, for as one professor in college used to say, “We are all just temporarily able bodied.”
I hope today finds you surrounded by people you love, and that includes yourself. If you are alone today enjoy your movie marathon, or your book of chose. For those who are into sports, enjoy the game, as for me and mine we’re watching the dog show. Okay, they’re recording the dog show so I can watch it later, because I have to keep making pages on the new book, so you can all read it next summer. May we all be truly grateful for the blessings in our lives.

Choose Joy

Choose joy

Yesterday was a hard day. I had a serious fight with someone I love. No fight gets as vicious as one between loved ones because we know each other’s weakness, and the painful spots, so we can drive the knife in deep where it counts. Fights with people we care about are the worst for that reason and because if it’s bad enough you can irreparably damage the relationship – forever. There came a moment of decision.

I could hold a grudge and make things worse, or I could choose joy and give the person who hurt me a chance to redeem the relationship. I chose joy, they worked their issues, and it was good. It was so much better than holding onto the resentment and anger would have been. A grudge leaves no room for joy, or healing. I chose to try and to believe we could work things out and today is a much better day. But I did not choose blindly and it took the other person, who was part of the negativity, to work their issues and risk being vulnerable enough to come to me with renewed effort. I did the same, because no matter who is right, or wrong, it usually takes both people in a fight to cause it – even if only a little on one side. Don’t keep score; heal, do better, talk, communicate the shit out of how you got into the bad moment and what you can do to get out of it and onto something better.

Please, notice above that I didn’t forgive and just accept the apology and go on. We both worked the issues that had led to the fight and talked about it. We talked about it until the discussion is almost as hard as the fight, but without the talking and the willingness to work the issues involved, forgiveness doesn’t work. Yes, you read that right. Forgiveness is empty if the person you’re forgiving keeps doing the same hurtful things over and over again because that means they didn’t mean the apology. Or, if they only mean the apology when they are in the middle of the fight, or see the pain they’re causing their loved ones, but then they go right back to the bad behavior – they aren’t sorry. Or they’re not sorry enough to change the behavior causing the problem. If that’s the case, then you’re screwed. Your only choices are to either settle for being dragged into their painful drama forever, or to walk away. If people won’t work their issues, you can’t work them for them. You cannot carry another person’s burden without depriving that person of the lessons they’re supposed to learn to become the best possible THEM, they can be. Look at it this way, if you keep rescuing the princess, she never learns to rescue herself. Or, if you keep putting up with the ogre’s horrible behavior, he will never turn into the handsome prince, because you’ll stay with the ogre. Its hard work to become a prince, or a self-rescuing princess, or a princess if your ogre runs to the feminine sort, or a self-rescuing prince – its freaking hard work to change yourself. People seldom do it for real, they do just enough to get by and then the old habits come back. Old habits, even self-destructive ones are strangely comforting, because they are the known, the familiar. The unknown and the unfamiliar scare the hell out of most people, but if you let the fear of the unknown stop you, your life is automatically limited. Is that what you want, a limited life? No? Then you have to forge ahead into the unknown, explore new worlds, new possibilities, because when the old habits lead you to the same bad places, bad relationships, dead end jobs, unhealthy bodies, the only way to find a better place to be, better relationships, a job you love, or one that supports you and your family better, or both, and/or a healthier body, is to try something new. Don’t let old habits, old pain, old issues, old fears, old unhappiness win! If you and your loved ones are willing to do the work you can find new, healthier habits, heal the pain, work through the issues that are stopping you, conquer the fears, and find yourself happier!

Choose joy, but understand that joy takes work. Decide to be happier, healthier, more productive, whatever you need in your life, and then be willing to do the work to make it happen. Choose Joy, and then work your ass off to get it, and keep it.