We are coming up on the one year anniversary of the massive donation that enabled KINDRED to get off of the ground. It changed my life. That cannot be over-stated. Even the computer I am typing on right now is a result of the success of the campaign. Far greater than the monetary gain, it gave me courage. Nobody understands how afraid I was to do this and I had no idea what would happen. The gesture sent out a universal re-enforcement of this being the path I was, although I didn’t realize, looking for.
August is traditionally a hard month towards the end. My mom’s birthday is August 29th and it’s very challenging not to miss her and be sad about it. Last year, things went in a very interesting direction. In the morning, I had a session with my therapist at the time. I told her how the only way to change course is to choose to view the day an a celebratory way. I would not cry and I would only mentally flip through happy memories. While driving home, I had a moment where I was completely present to the feeling of empowerment I was enjoying. It made me think of it making her happy to see.
It’s amazing how the brain works. It replays patterns that it has repeated numerous times. I feel slightly sad. But nothing is wrong. In fact, there’s more going on than ever before in my life. We’re actually putting together our post production. Finding someone to do a rough cut, find an editor who is more seasoned that this first time director, finish storyboarding, pray for our grants to come through and raise money just in case on top of getting my kid ready to start high school and trying to live a healthy life.
Do I wish my mother were here? Of course I do. We had a complicated relationship but we adored each other. For a long time, she was my whole world. But I am living in the present and in the present, she has been gone for a long time and lives on through her wise-ass grandchild. If I miss her this much, no matter how much in perspective I have it, is nothing to what actually being abused and abandoned by your mother must hurt. What must the day they associate with their mom must feel like. I’m lucky for my pain because it came from love.
Love is a topic on my mind a lot recently. How I show my love for others and how they show it for me. I am blessed to have a couple of the best friends anyone could hope for. And I did have a family that loved me all the way, even if it was only for a little while. For a time, I had a house and fireplace and family and friends always hanging around. I had the money to do what I wanted and I was very generous but had no real understanding of what generosity meant. It’s like the difference between buying someone lunch and seeing that they school themselves in a trade that allows them to buy their own.
I am lucky. Not only did we hit the Indiegogo lottery so to speak, I’ve had the privilege of experiencing real love in various forms. Between me and my parents, me and a handful of very special lovers, me and my friends and most importantly, between me and my son. The purest love and feeling of God was holding him as a baby. Smelling his head, kissing his toes. It was natural, automatic and immediate. He became the most important thing in my world. I can’t understand people who abuse that purity. Not like I have any business being the purity police, but I can insist that is what all children deserve. The purity of unconditional love. Love builds strength, strength builds confidence and confidence changes the world.
Being involved with KINDRED and the cause of foster care reform; I have never felt more confident in my life. But I still have my moments, we all do. nothing strong enough to pull me away from the vortex of living my purpose, but I am much more sensitive than people realize. I think I care too much about being liked. Silly I know. That’s the kid inside me. Besides, if someone doesn’t genuinely like me, I don’t want them around anyway. And how good can their taste really be? I’m not perfect but I try. Finally, I am not just on the world, I am in it.