Month: February 2019

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This is Me

I am a wife, a sister, an employer, and friend. I am a person who needs to feel love, purpose, and inspiration to thrive, and someone who counts the quality of relationship as the greatest metric of success, but also dreams of accolades and fancy trips. I am someone who works the details and delves into big feelings to accomplish goals. Sometimes I get lost in myopic distractions, but I try to surround myself with incredibly honest, intelligent people who help me stay on track. I try to be aware of and continue to search for my strengths and my weaknesses. I am always trying to be better.

All these things are me and I have had the great fortune to bask in significant societal successes, but I am Mitchell’s mom first, foremost, and forever, and I want to be the very best mom I can be! Two of the many tools I use to do that is, self- care and work. In many ways, I have been building careers since I was fifteen so that I could be the best mom possible to the best kid in the world! It’s the most important and rewarding job I’ve ever had! It’s also the hardest.

I have been a professional actor, an educator, and a business owner for over 30 years, but it wasn’t until I became a special needs mom that I finally found my true purpose. It wasn’t until I had to face down the real meaning of trust, control, and the actual possibility of losing my child that I discovered who I really am.

As a performer, I learned the value of empathy and community. I honed tenacity, resilience, and failure until I became an expert in appreciating hard work, process, and success. And I realized that behaving with engagement care is often much more impactful than being right. Acting taught me to focus! To find my objective and fight for it through any obstacle, whether it be self-inflicted or circumstances out of my control. I learned from and worked with extraordinary talents that helped me develop a life long, hungry appreciation for the study of the human experience, for our stories and our connections. I learned how to hold the spotlight with awareness and humility but stride in confidence, and I came to cherish the magnificent power of relationship. As a performer, I learned how to listen!

As an educator, I learned that if we communicate with succinct compassion, people are open, kind, and capable of extraordinary things, especially children. I learned that to believe in ourselves we not only need someone to believe in us, but we also need great teachers. I learned that teaching isn’t about doing so much as understanding why and how to accomplish a goal and the ability to break down and help practice the process of learning. I spent over 25 years practicing and studying communication, development, and perspective. I learned how to lay a proper foundation of healthy expectations followed by developmentally appropriate, positive follow through. And, I learned how to break things down so the student could become independent with the skill and then make it their own. I learned when and how to be tough and when and how to be soft. As an educator, I realized that all the technique in the world means nothing if trust and communication are not built first, and I learned that although no one can take the place of a parent, often parents are not the best teachers. As an educator I helped students reach heights they didn’t know they were allowed to reach for, become aware of tone and delivery, consider others, problem solve, and think about their actions from inception to consequence. As an educator, I learned the value of work over words, of collaboration, and second chances. And I learned to never stop learning. As an educator, I learned to listen!

As a business owner, I learned that real power comes from speaking truth and setting Boundaries with sincerity and care, that nothing can replace time and experience, and that I cannot please everyone. I discovered the more clear I could be with my expectations the more successful relationships and productivity became. As a business owner, I learned to honor myself and the accomplishments I achieved over the opinions of others. I learned that no amount of money is worth promising more than I can deliver and that nothing holds more worth than valuing oneself appropriately. As a business owner I learned that everyone is coming from something and somewhere I may not understand but that unless I hold true to my mission, I can not supply the service I promise to provide. As a business owner, I learned to listen.

 

As a special needs mom, I learned that what I want is not always something I can make happen, that what’s fair is not always possible, and that grieving comes in many forms including gratitude and love. As a special needs mom, I learned that in order to help my child I first had to heal myself. And I am constantly to learn how to let go of the way I thought I wanted life to go and appreciate the moments I am given. Because, no matter how prepared I am or how diligent, no matter how kind or conscientious I am, it is not in my power to heal my son. It’s only in my power to love him, learn everything I can, find the best doctors I can, and be the best version of myself possible.

I have taught thousands of students, put on hundreds of musicals, developed multiple theatre schools and programs in Southern California, Colorado, and Philadelphia, including Colorado Children’s Theatre that began as a small school in the foothills of Denver and grew into four locations, earned multiple awards, and touts hundreds of success stories. I have taught professional actors, am an award-winning actor and choreographer, and a SAG accredited actress. I have studied with renowned teachers including Kristen Linklater at Emerson College, Karen Tobey, Members of the Stella Adler and Lewis Smith Academies. And I am a consultant for many new entrepreneurs trying to create a business out of creative endeavors.

My goals have changed and I am not driven by professional success but by the need to be the best I can for myself, my son, and all the parents struggling to not only survive but thrive in a world that is not yet ready to embrace everyone, especially those with special needs. I try every day to stay in the moment, let go of injustices I can’t control and practice faith.

My son is sick, and sometimes it’s hard to be his mom. Sometimes the hard times last longer than I have the capacity to regulate. But, being his mom has also been the greatest gift of my life. I am so grateful to have come this far. To have relationships that fill me up and make me feel loved and supported. I am proud of the person I have become, the person I am still becoming, the person I have always wanted to be.

I would trade it all for my son to not suffer. I would trade it all for my little boy. But I can’t. So I will love and live the best I can. Am I grateful for that too.

All I want now is to share what I have learned, to stand beside other parents who have been where I have been, I don’t have all the answers, but I will never stop searching for them, and I know I will never have to do it alone!

I am sad and scared, and I am angry. But I am strong and full of love. I am growing. I see myself and I see my child and I am floored with emotion.

I am grateful.

This is me.

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The Doctor’s Visit. A Scene From My Life

*This script is based on real-life events from the year 2018

Int. Neurologist Office – Day

Morning Appointment with Kerri, Dave, and Mitchell to discuss Mitchell’s seizures and increased behavior/emotional outbursts. The office is new and brightly lit. It is clean with a mural of a child in a tiger costume playing in the grass covering the wall above the chairs for parents. The energy is quiet and tense. Kerri and Dave sit in chairs facing the door, waiting for the doctor. Kerri is lost in space picking her lips, and Dave is on his phone. Mitchell sits on the checkup table slumped against the wall with his IPad.

The Doctor enters. Kerri stands to hug her. Dave looks up and smiles. Mitchell barely says hello.

Cut to the end of the appointment. Close up on Kerri and Doctor who are standing close together by the door. Dave is in shadow behind Kerri. We do not see Mitchell. Kerri is upset, frustrated, and scared. The appointment has provided no answers to Mitchell’s worsening condition. We see Kerri’s shoulders slump and her body droop. Kerri has just, once again, told the doctor that Mitchell can’t even get out the door without a meltdown, that he’s not living a “real” life and she doesn’t know what to do, that she is “losing” it.

DOCTOR

Kerri, you should not be getting him ready for the day, you shouldn’t even be getting him dressed.

KERRI

What do you mean? I’m his mom. That’s literally my job.

DOCTOR

Yes, you’re his mom. But right now your job should only be to love him. You should not be helping him with homework, and you should definitely not be the disciplinarian,

KERRI

(Dead Silent, then stuttering, then shaking, suddenly silent again with tears beginning to escape down her cheeks.)

I don’t even know what that means? That’s not real life. Dave has to work, or we have no health insurance. I’m it, and I’m supposed to be able to do this. How is he going to live a “real” life? He can’t function, He’s coming apart at the seems. And it’s tearing him apart too. It’s my job to make sure he’s OK! He can’t live like this, what’s going to happen to him?! We can’t live like this? How do I do this?

DOCTOR

Take care of yourself so you can be what he needs you to be right now. Just love him. And maybe right now, you’re asking too much of him and yourself. It’s not your job to save him.

KERRI

That’s exactly my job. I’m his mother! He hates me. He’s sad all the time. And these…episodes?! He has to learn that it’s not OK to be mean and violent, no matter what he’s feeling. But he can’t control it, and no one knows what’s causing it. Is this just him now? He hates me, and we’re both at each other all the time.

(Breaking for a second)

I have to help him. I want him to love me again. He gets further away from me every day. I want my little boy back!

DOCTOR

I know. But you can only take so much, Kerri.

KERRI

What if this gets worse? What if he grows up and hurts himself? I have to prevent that! (closed mouthed suppressed sobbing) If he’s not OK, then what the hell do I matter? I can’t take care of myself until I take care of him. That’s what I supposed to do, take care of him! (voice rises in desperation) He still needs to be a kid; He has no life. But he needs to go to school! If he falls too far behind, he’ll never catch up. And this behavior! (throws hands up in frustration and panic.)

DOCTOR

(With tremendous kindness but also firm. )

Kerri, this is happening. You have a very sick child, and all we can do right now is go through the process.

(puts hands up in a sign of making peace)

I know we’ve been through this before, but we have to keep trying. Daily life routines will help, but you shouldn’t be the one to put them in place, Kerri, he can only do what he can do right now, and so can you. It’s too much, and if you fall apart the whole ship goes down!

KERRI

(Hopeless and angry. Feeling faint and weak, but at the same time feels like shoving the doctor. Speaks in a low raw whisper.)

It’s my job to teach him to become a functioning person! I can’t work, I don’t have a life. This is the only thing I’m supposed to be doing, and I’m failing!! I’m failing my little boy. He’s so sick!

(fully sobbing)

It shouldn’t be that hard to get through the day. I’m his mother!

DOCTOR

So be his mom and love him. Take care of yourself so you can be there for him through this. We don’t know how, but it will change. Nothing stays the same forever. Get someone to help you! You can’t be head of the house and be his mom right now. They aren’t the same job. Be his mom and love him. Let someone else be his caretaker and help take care of you too.

KERRI

(Silent. Head Down. Crying. Defeated)

END SCENE:

Except, it wasn’t a scene. It was real.

I don’t remember leaving that appointment. I don’t’ remember what tests or referrals we got or what else we discussed. I don’t know what Mitchell was wearing or where he was when his doctor and I had this conversation. I know Dave was there, but I don’t remember that either.

I do remember my mom was in town because it was Thanksgiving weekend. I do remember thinking about how much I wanted a regular holiday weekend like a regular family and feeling resentful that one of my favorite holidays was being ruined by epilepsy and my inability to cope. I remember feeling frenzied trying so hard to force the festivities, and exhausted from the futility of it all. I remember Mitchell having his bazillionth “wonky place” episode as we were getting ready to go the Thanksgiving Day Parade. He was hitting me and yelling and telling me he wanted a new mother, among other horrible things. Buddha was not himself; hadn’t been for months. I remember wondering if the Mitchell we knew and loved might be gone for good this time; if he could ever come back. Between the meds and the seizures and everything else, there was never an answer. It’s always just trial and error, and I remember wanting to scream at the sky, or anyone for that matter, just to give me an answer. One way or another, I needed an answer. The fear was killing me. The pain was too much.

I remember thinking, This is it, this is our life now. It had already been months of this, just me and Buddha going round and round between seizures and fights, and tears. I remember sitting down in his little blue beanbag chair under the grey loft bed we had no business buying him, totally defeated. I remember the physical feeling of not being able to get up from that chair for hours. I remember crying and feeling empty and stuck. I remember the family leaving for the parade and then coming back and me still in the same beanbag chair feeling as if no time at all had passed. I remember my mom saying that if I didn’t get someone to help me with Mitchell, she would see about getting me into a hospital.

I remember breaking.

And then, I remember thinking I would die before I would let anyone take me from my son. The thing is, I wasn’t sure I could do it. I wasn’t sure I could be what he needed me to be. I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to be his mom.

But thank God, I wasn’t alone even if that’s how I felt.

A few weeks later, I remember Dave found Alex and I agreed to see yet another therapist.

That was the day; things began to change again. But this time towards self-care and healing instead of defeat.

Alex came in to get him ready, keep him fed, and do my dishes. She helped him with homework and created a routine and point system for every action of his day, including a cooldown system for his wonky place episodes. She was the one who encouraged him to name the episodes, and that’s what he liked “wonky place.” Before then, it was just terror and aggression. We didn’t know what to call them.

I remember crying alone in my room…alot…for weeks, as Alex got him to do things I never could.

I remember Mitchell’s breaking point in February when we finally had him admitted because of his erratic, aggressive behaviors. We were at Lucky Strike, and he didn’t want to leave. After screaming in front of everyone, running away and almost out into the street, it took two of us 20 minutes of holding him down to get him into the cab and to the ER. We were finally admitted, and they were beginning to talk about some pretty severe measures. I remember being so deeply scared. I remember him crying. He was sad, and sorry and angry and so so very lost.

I remember feeling a little bit more able to handle the situation.

That’s when we pulled him off the latest med even though his seizure control was the best it had ever been. I remember deciding to give him a better quality of life over his improved physical health. I remember the weight of that decision but knowing it was the lesser of two evils and what we had to do. I remember the seizures ramping up full force all over again.

I remember being better able to handle the situation. I remember slowly letting Alex bare the brunt of the bad times so I could finally be the good guy.

I remember trying so hard, through so much pain, to accept the help I needed so that I could be the mom Buddha deserved. I remember all of a sudden having time and emotional space to concentrate on working through my fears and control issues.

I remember realizing how much of a toll this was taking on my husband and that he needed me too. My poor husband was a shell of himself at that point. He had a new job and needed to focus on that, and he was trying to be there for me. I realized we both had to be well to be there for each other. And so I let go a little more while Alex worked on Mitchell and my therapist helped me begin to process the trauma and grief. I was starting to accept compassion from my friends. I began to take care of me. And slowly, I began to like the way it felt to take care of me. I wasn’t feeling as guilty for what I couldn’t do, but grateful for what I could. I once again began to feel grateful to be Mitchell’s mom instead of fearful that I was the last thing he needed.

Then, all of a sudden, it was summer, and I remember feeling a little relief. I was relishing the happy, and I was feeling gratitude and love. I remember so many fun days from that summer. Fun days that were still interrupted with wonky place times, but were manageable. Or rather, I remember feeling like they were more manageable because I was stronger in myself. I remember the first time I didn’t have a big emotional reaction to one of his episodes and could walk through the steps with him calmly. I remember Alex standing up for me. I remember getting a little more sleep. I remember the warmth of the sun on my face and more peace in my heart. I began to feel proud of myself as a mom.

We got to be OK with defining a new normal, and I had more and more strength to be what Mitchell needed me to be. I wasn’t just recovering from my break, but I was building myself up stronger than before, more confident than before.

I remember beginning to get more snuggles and focusing on the love and connection rather than the daily charts and behavior control. I remember thinking how hard this was but how blessed I was (and am) to have this amazing, brave, loving boy, and to be his mother.

I remember Mitchell being happy and feeling proud too. And what a boost that was!!

I remember starting to work out again, and I remember the day I woke up and didn’t dread what the day might bring. I remember the day Alex and I started Lost and Found Moms and my amazement that I could not only be Mitchell’s mom but work again too. I remember Dave and I started going on date nights. We even spent the night away without Mitchell, over a year later, of course, but we did. It was the first time since before Mitchell was diagnosed that we had done that. And I remember sleeping like I hadn’t in years…and not feeling scared or guilty.

I remember starting to forgive myself for not being able to save my son. And I remember Mitchell being able to look at me with brighter eyes and telling me he loved me.

It was a very long year, but I made it through stronger than ever, and Mitchell did too. I remember feeling like I wasn’t failing at being his mom. It felt like I was beginning to let go of some of the control I needed to have all the time, the control I thought I needed to have to save my son, and I remember feeling more able to go through the changes of this crazy life with more acceptance and gratitude.

I remember telling Mitchell, “Buddha, I love you more than anything,” and him saying it back!

END

*This was, of course, not the end, but a moment in time. The moral of this play for me is to remember that accepting help is not a weakness, but a sign of strength. That I am more able to be the person, the parent, I want to be when I accept what I can and can not do. And that I am the mom Mitchell needs me to be, because I will never give up on him…or me.

 

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The Dark Truth

I can’t always explain how, but I know if something is true. I feel it, and those feelings help me live with ease and openness of heart. When I know something is true, I feel less afraid and I don’t try to control actions outside my behavior as much as I do otherwise. It feels like I’m not lost and alone on an endless lake just trying not to drown when I live in truth.

Truth is my buoy. I have lived my whole life working toward being open and honest with myself and others. The only rule we did not break growing up was the “be honest” rule. I am vigilant in awareness and welcome all input that will lead me to the truth. I survive to live in truth.

Or do I?

I think I might be a liar.

‘You know what’s wrong with the truth? It’s fricken hard. ’You know what’s wrong with trying to find a truth that works for everyone? It doesn’t exist. ‘You know what’s wrong with bringing only light to the world in the name of honesty? It’s pretty much a lie.

We want to be happy, so we search for the truth. Or, we want to be happy and do everything in our power to avoid the truth. And no matter how our psyches and societies try to convince us otherwise, we usually think we are doing it right. But there is no one way to be happy any more than there is one truth, at least not one we are all ready to know. And I am no different.

Depending on how you chose to see the world, as it throws you recklessly against its limitations we, at some point, have to shit or get off the pot and decide on a working truth. I choose to be connected and to believe in the constructs of law, the biological need for community, and the accepted limits of right and wrong. I choose to live toward compassion and communication rather than aggression and war. For me, the animal impulse to move forward in spite of fear and failure is just as true as my desire to heal and fix, the need for touch and console. Those choices are just as true as my grave knowing that the moments I feel most pure and divine are in moments of love. I live for love and truth.

But, like life, the truth is messy and hard to purely articulate. And often times, it is elusive. I desperately want to know why. Why is my son sick? Why are we collectively cruel to one another? Why are we so primitive that we feel it easier to push love away rather than welcome it? Why can’t I relish the moments of gratitude every second of every day instead of hiding behind fear? Why don’t I lose my shit more often, it feels like I’m given ample opportunity? Why am I so weird?

I am not usually this heady or maudlin, but here I am. I guess I am bordering on teenage existential bullshit, but It’s because today, for the first time maybe ever, my rage escaped… and it felt fan-fricken-tastic. And now I’m questioning some important ideals I thought up to this point were entirely true.

(Don’t worry, I didn’t hurt anyone emotionally or physically.)  Image result for smiley emoji

Today I settled into a deeper part of myself, a part of myself that feels giddy with confidence because the shield of goodness I wear around my grossness cracked open. Something old and raw surfaced in me today, and it was…affecting.

I never doubted that the world is full of magical beauty and goodness, of miraculous, lighted spirit. But along with the light, the world is dark with hate, indelicate stupidity, and ridiculous greed. The world is full of ugliness I never admitted was real because I never could admit that I held a piece of that ugliness in me too.

But today, I saw myself in a whole new light, and I loved it. I wasn’t ashamed and I wasn’t scared. I am empowered! Today, I have the courage and confidence to sit with the truth that darkness is not the opposite of light, as I knew it to be just yesterday, but it’s own ugly truth.

I think people are capable of so much more than we think we deserve; and every idea I have, every breath I am gifted, every action I take centers around the impulse to heal pain with love. But I am not living up to my full potential if I hide rage and confusion behind purpose and healing, and only justify meanness and wrongdoing with compassion. It’s not the worst trait a person could have, but it is a half lie.  Because I am also disgusted. I am hurt and scared, and I am pissed!

But, all of a sudden, that doesn’t bother me because, all of a sudden I see evil in the world not as a journey to salvation unmet, but as a pure fact. Or, I see that it can be both. Like the sun on a lake reflecting sparkled ripples or hiding in shadows, the darkness is not in spite of the light but with it. They stand alone as much as they are dependent on the other. Today I am equal parts rage and love. Today is real because today I want to hurt and heal. I won’t, but I want to. And for the first time in such a very long time, if ever, I feel whole.

I am not afraid the shadows will consume me or turn me bad. I am not scared of my failings or my darkness. They are mine as much as my profound love and belief in the magic of it all. I am not granulated throughout the centuries and universes as I wish I were and I love it! I don’t have to be what I am not, because I opened the door to raw, raging anger and the feelings of injustice and pain. I am here at this moment with a new truth, a truth where the light and the dark are not concerned with their maker, only with being seen. And, I see them each. I have space for them both.

At too young an age and not deserving of it, I was shown shame and blame. I knew myself to be bad because I was not good enough to deserve love from many whose only job it was to love me. In primal need to control my failings, I buried dark feelings. I went on to try to save everyone, not just my family, not only myself but everyone. I neglected my true anger and fear, my desire to burn all the ugliness down to ashes. I wanted to be reborn without surviving the fire. That was my truth. A truth I believed unchangeable. (At least not until  I was good enough, perfect enough, and selfless enough. I’m still waiting for that to happen!)

And so the fire raged hotter and darker in me every year, hidden under my “goodness” until it finally began to destroy me. The drinking, the dreams, and the pretending was all an act to stop the truth that pain and rage aren’t handed out only to the weak, but to everyone. Today I learned that the darkness is real.
I hated the darkness in me. I wanted to be only light, not the weak, unworthy thing I knew myself to be. But, I wasn’t weak, and I wasn’t wrong. I was just never allowed to be dark and angry. I wasn’t allowed the scary feelings that were raging around inside my little redhead for fear of becoming them.

Today, the valve opened, and I was ready to feel something new. I took a good look at that dark truth, and I saw the lie. Even in my darkest nights, I denied the dark. It wasn’t until I realized that I could have darkness in me without becoming evil that I finally begin to surrender. I stopped pretending I was only good.

“…if we don’t learn to honour our aggressive emotions with equally aggressive action, we will most likely fall ill in mind and body.” 

-Dr. Nick Baylis

The truth is, the darkness is as much a part of me as any light, just as there is good in many people who are filled with hate and pain. I don’t wish for others to hurt, and I will still help whenever I can. But I want to rage in a fury, and rail against my hurts, I want to name them and not be ashamed to vanquish them with all the passion I have inside me.

I know I am good. I know my choices are mine as are my actions, and I know that those actions leave ripples in the world around me. But my feelings? They are mine alone, and I will rise with them in confidence. I will no longer be afraid of my darkness. I have faced the world’s uncaring control, and I have survived. I know I don’t have to drink it away, I don’t have to pretend it away, and I don’t have to make myself into something I am not. And I know that those incapable of loving me back, of facing their own truth, are perhaps wounded birds that need to be nursed back to health as much as they are toxic, scavengers of light. But I know too, that I am strong enough to welcome the darkness without falling into it.

Today, I have a new truth. I will dress my darkness in shadow to my light. I will work to highlight my bruises just as I will reach to brighten my shine. And I will live more thoroughly than I have before. I think I might even be happier!

The truth is, we all must find our own truth.

I want to live more fully in love, more generous in giving, and now I will because I will no longer deny the darkness. I want to see how I come out. I want to see what happens next, what I can do. I wonder what I will be? I may not end up as clean as I once dreamt of being, but I will take action with good intent, I will work to live in awareness, and I will be true.