Africa

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Africa is not a place for the weak. It is dangerous and unruly and poverty- stricken. The people make an average of $1.50 a day. It is a place where instinct defies logic. It must. It is survival.  A tall white blonde woman from California has no business trying to fit into this way of life. But I was going to try to do just that.

I should have trusted my gut feeling immediately. The State Department, with all its rules, and protocol, was especially adept at making its diplomats feel a sense of loyalty toward its cause: by removing the individual from its environment and into a foreign place to serve as a liaison for information.

We looked rich compared to the native people. We were rich compared to native people. How was it that we lived in a compound larger than a village? The precedent that was set drooled of power. But, to me, it felt like it placed us in harm’s way. When I asked about the danger, the others scoffed. We were safe, they said. We were American.

However, I became apprehensive as I stepped into my new home. No one told me that there would be a panic room in my bedroom. I did not realize we would have a guard, glass shears pointing up from a barb-wired electric fence above our compound wall or three locks on the door. I felt I could trust no one; not the doctor at the embassy, not the other diplomatic wives and especially not the villagers working in my home. Trapped and powerless, I grew angry quickly. As always, anger turned into depression as depression usually does.

Diplomacy knows nothing about holding grudges. Yet, I was angry with my country for placing my family in a volatile environment. I felt a million miles away from those I loved and the truthfully, I was just that: a million miles away both physically and mentally.

It would have gone better if the neighborhood pharmacy did not sell valium over the counter. I honestly thought that I needed them to cope. After the shell shock of living abroad subsided, I became apprehensive that my husband would be traveling the majority of the time and that I would have to take random broken-down taxis to go everywhere with my two-year-old in tow. This was not going to work for me. But I did not know how to get out.

The most exciting upcoming event happened to be that my husband was turning fifty. However, he was scheduled to be in Nigeria. I insisted that we come because I did not want him to be alone on his birthday. While still living in the honeymoon phase of diplomacy, I was still a wee-bit trusting of the State Department to protect me.

When we landed in Nigeria, I learned quickly that the rule of thumb was to “duck and cover” inside the bullet proof Marine vehicle because Nigerians shoot white people. And we were rushed into the American hotel and being told clearly not to leave. I questioned why I came. But I was there and that was that.

After a nice meal for my husband’s birthday and several nights of good sleep we traveled with another doctor to Lagos. My family and I were to return to Accra. I did not feel relieved. I felt homesick. The Valium stopped working immediately and I was left to fend with myself against my anxiety. When I do not feel safe, my thinking changes. Everyone around me acted as if there was not a worry in the world. But I could sense trouble. Inwardly, I panicked and then it happened.

Boko Haram tried to blow up the UN in Nigeria. Eighteen people were dead. My husband was assigned to the situation as a crisis manager. We were escorted to the safety of the other doctor’s home while they both evaluated the destruction and if the other diplomatic families could go home.

My son and I were placed safely in a diplomat’s home where all the doors were barred shut and two large dogs could protect us. I slept mostly. Corey played with two boys that lived in the home. Finally, Steve arrived and we were going to be allowed to leave that night.

When I returned to Accra, I could not get the terrorist attack to leave my mind. I kept feeling the government did not have our backs. They would let us die. I did not care what anyone told me. I needed to get out of Africa and I needed to take my son with me.

My panic turned into a full-blown attack of anxiety that left me paralyzed. I continued to take the Valium but my anxiety did not lessen. When faced with the truth, the brain will go into fight or flight. I could no longer function. There was so much at stake. We had moved everything we owned to Africa. We had given up our cars and our friends and our life to serve this nation. But would this nation serve us? I knew it would not.

I convinced the State Department to send me home. By doing so, I had relinquished my medical clearance which would cause my husband to resign. I did not care. My safety and the safety of my child was all I could think about. I could tell that other diplomats felt I was weak as if a Scarlett “A” of sorts were tattooed on my soul. It hurt. But I could not stay. I lost control of my sanity and I needed to bear down into a cocoon of protection and security.

A year later Benghazi happened. And now more and more attacks occurred. My hunch was correct. The “War on Terror” was not over and they could not hide it forever. But in my opinion, they certainly tried.

In the end, I knew my gut feeling had been right all along. I was not safe in my travels abroad. But this mattered not, now. I was home. I was safe and I would always trust my sense of knowing where I was safe and where I was not, for the rest of my life. It was a valuable lesson to learn. My dignity was sacrificed to ensure my sense of well-being. My life was saved in return. I believe it was a fair trade. However, my world view darkened through that experience and it is only through my appreciation of the beautiful human spirit that I am persuaded to find pleasure on this earth.

Some may believe I was weak, but my character rescued me. Sometimes instinct is not pretty but such is life. And I am here to tell the tale so others may awaken their sense of self and know the world is not what it seems.

Instability

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I have heard people will decide to make changes when they are finally sick of being in pain.  Long-term  suffering can come in any form. Strife within a relationship, jobs, or  health issues throughout  time will cause a person to walk close to the edge without even knowing it. Throughout those days, I secretly promise myself that I will be happy, once again, when my problems go away.

There are also times of rejoice, in the middle of suffering, through an ordeal, that creates a sort of denial that the problem ceases to exist. Alcohol can give you that for 4 or 5 hours. Sex: a good 25 minutes. Dating a man who doesn’t love you can be a great escape from the problems that lay low in your head for many years.  But for me, just getting involved with someone else’s problems allows me to vicariously believe that I am solving my own.

No one would say I am a quitter either. I will do everything I can to not deal with a problem that is too painful to comprehend. The year of 2016 was a problem of money for me.

Due to being totally f*cked over by a private contract company working with the Department of Defense, my family and I went from having money to not having money in less than three months. We did have savings. We did have investments. We did have credit. We were not stupid or reckless or living outside of our means. We just got screwed on a job deal and no money was coming in to pay the bills.

Without a job, home, or stuff, we carried on. My familiarity with being broke played into a false sense of confidence that I would be really good at finding creative ways to stay afloat. But we were just not ready for what smacked us over the head: a symphony of bats playing the most hardcore drums, pounding, slamming and drowning all other thoughts out of my head. We were in trouble.

I have many traits suited for survival but not enough traits to actually thrive. I am friendly, charismatic, intelligent and persuasive. I am well-liked among my peers and grocery clerks and doctor offices or anywhere I do business. But there is one trait within me that weighed so heavily into my life that it crept into all my relationships and  lessened any chance of me being consistent. That flaw is called instability.

In general, people have a sixth sense about those of us who are not stable. It makes them uneasy. It creates a shadow of mistrust among the closest of allies. People want to give you the benefit of the doubt but an unstable person brings much more stress to a situation than not.

Plus, I never knew I was not stable because I never knew how to be stable. My solution was to freak out, stop eating all together, give up daily bathing, call everyone in my support system and tell them everything that I feared pertaining to the crisis at hand. Eventually, I would muster some strength to eat again and slowly I resurrect back into an able-bodied person willing to look problems head on.

Yet on that day in May, when I had a writing assignment due, my child became sick. I felt a great amount of pressure to do it all despite my frailty in that moment. My blood sugar was low and my blood pressure was high. And in the middle of Hobby Lobby, I began to have a panic attack.

First, my lawyer called to say that Mercedes Benz had backed out of the deal to get caught up in payments and wanted their money now. I was already in the hole several grand for the month and the month was nearing a close. I simply told him we would deal with it or we would give up the car.

I was beginning to become accustomed to giving back my stuff at that moment. Earlier that year, I pawned my beautiful chocolate and diamond wedding ring to pay the rent as well as my diamond earrings and a semi-chipped Fire Opal ring that I added in as token. If we were going to lose our cars than so be it.

Then the second call came in. It was my husband explaining we needed to buy a large business related item that day or there would be trouble. My internal hole began to expand. And if I could have, I would have jumped in, let them cover me with dirt, and then all the hell would be over.

But my son was there, as was the case, and he began his normal series of demands as we become closer to checkout. I told him no. He asked why. I said because and the conversation remained in this circular argument throughout check out.

Without being able to stop, I began to cry frantically in the car on the way home. I knew I was upsetting my son. I just could not stop. And in my mind I thought “I cannot do this another day. Not one more single fucking day. This is too unstable for me. I can’t get my writing done. I can’t care for my son. I can’t even make myself food because I am such a wreck.”

So I explained to my son exactly what I did not want to tell him. The solution. We were going to have to leave our perfect little mountain retreat in Montana to seek new opportunities. And by doing so, pain would ensue.

Why would I avoid the solution? Because it required literally moving mountains. And I was…I was tired. But this would be the last day. I was tired of the instability more than I was tired of the pain.

The key to being stable is not anywhere near as hard as I thought it would be. It is simple. Be stable. Just do it. No matter what. No matter what stay stable. Life keeps going and so would I. I would fake it until I owned it. But I was going to be stable. Not for my son or my family, but because I needed to be stable to thrive.

Such clarity opened my eyes significantly to other areas of my life. I worried a lot. I looked too deep into every situation and found a reason to be afraid. I thought people did not like me or that my opinion meant very little. In actuality, people were always saying how much they liked me and asking me for advice in their own lives. The disconnect between my inside and my outside freed the hot mess inside of me for many years. But reconnecting would beckon me to strive to align with my highest self and empower me in ways I knew existed somewhere within myself.

The missing piece for my life was that I needed to be stable no matter what happened. I could not speak rudely to people just because I was in a panic. I could not justify erratic behavior because I was afraid any longer. I had to get it together.

Some of the simplest solutions for our lives biggest problems are not living in some divine matrix. The truth  is the most profound answers can be found straight in front of our nose. It is up for us to open our eyes to see them.

 

How To Spot An Alcoholic

Of course, we all know the easy way to spot an alcoholic: red face, preoccupation with alcohol, unable to stop drinking once started etc etc. But today I am going to share with you some insight on characteristics of an alcoholic you may not know. Keep in mind, that what applies to spotting an alcoholic also applies to spotting a relapse because drinking alcohol is only a symptom of a greater problem inside the heads and hearts of people inflicted with the disease.

  1. Anger and resentment- This is nothing new to someone who is in AA. The whole book is written around this subject. Alcoholics have a pattern of being angry and resentful. Often, if I am on social media and I see someone with hostile posts I instantly become suspicious. Alcoholics are triggered by what they deem to be unfair acts against them especially when it comes to close relationships. The disease makes it very difficult for the alcoholic to not take someone’s actions personal. However, in recovery we learn that even the most atrocious acts of unkindness are not personal and we are taught to believe what other people say about us is none of our business.
  2. Comorbidity- Almost all alcoholics have secondary afflictions of the spirit, mind and body that manifest prior to the age we begin drinking. I suffer from anxiety and depression. Always have. In recovery, we are bonded by identifying in each other the same twisted personality traits. It seems like everything we feel is to the extreme. Alcoholics are extremely sensitive. In alcohol we look for relief in caring so much about anything and everything.
  3. Big Plans but No Follow Thru- The brain of an alcoholic is very different than a person who is not inflicted. The pleasure centers of our brain are not naturally full and it takes action every day to get into a pleasurable space. Alcohol replaces action in a way that we think of a big ideas, sometimes brilliant ideas, that are never completed due the fact that the intake of alcohol gives us the same reward response as if we had actually followed through on goal or a task. For example, when I want to write a book, if I drink I most likely will never write the book because alcohol makes me feel as if I had already done the work. This is why in recovery action is far more important than thought. Someone in relapse will begin slowly not to accomplish anything that is important for daily functioning and in the grander scheme of life.
  4. A Track Record- This is very hard for alcoholics to see. We feel things are happening to us. That we are just unlucky. It is very difficult for an alcoholic to link their drinking as a consequence of what they choose. An alcoholic does not have to be drunk to make bad decisions. Once again, drinking is only a symptom that masks what drives a person to be reckless, irresponsible and sometimes very foolish. And the next thing we know we have multiple situations transpiring at once but cannot figure out why. For instance, we get in fights with significant others, our bills are not paid or we lack money, our health deteriorates and we stop doing things that we usually love all at the same time.  When someone is in their disease it is almost impossible for them to be accountable because their disease wants more alcohol. I know that is hard for a normal person to understand but it true.
  5. Unhealthy Boundaries- I am not sure if our inability to have healthy boundaries starts in the family of origin who is likely full of other alcoholics or if it is just the nature of the disease. But alcoholics do not have healthy boundaries. They are often promiscuous, codependent and often expect others to do for them what they should be doing for themselves. They are abusive and they let themselves be abused. They do not know where they begin as a person and others start. This is very hard to master even in sobriety because our extreme feelings and thinking tend to create scenarios both in our heads and in our lives that cross lines of respectability and human decency.
  6. Great Senses of Humor- Recovering alcoholics know how to laugh at themselves. They are usually very funny with off color remarks and ideas. The way we view the world is quite different than a normal person and we are not afraid to embrace that side of themselves because they are usually rewarded by other people for it.
  7. Moderation in Moderation- Alcoholics are all or nothing thinkers. Balance is just not in our vocabulary. If we eat, we eat a lot, if we exercise,we exercise a lot, if we love we love far too much and we don’t see much reason to change.  We have a history of doing everything in our life to excess. Once again, we have a blind spot. We are unable to match our thinking with our behavior. We do not see the link unless we are practicing being mindful. I do not think being moderate ever becomes easy for someone even they have years of sobriety. That is why it is helpful to go to meetings, have a sponsor and be able to tell on ourselves. Otherwise, we slowly or quickly unravel into some sort of extreme.
  8. A Need to be Special- Alcoholics almost always feel that they do not fit in. Because of this, they have a desire to be more “special” than their peers. They truly believe they are superior because of it. But at the same time, being special creates distance which in turn breeds loneliness. One of the greatest things I learned was to find the similarities I have with my fellows if I want to feel fulfilled in my relationships.

This list is not extensive. But it can tip a person off to know if someone has a problem with an alcohol problem. I usually can spot someone right a way. However, it is seldom useful to tell a person that they are alcoholic. An alcoholic usually can figure this out on some level and either desperately tries to hide it or is willing to seek help.

In Hipocrisy We Stand

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Have you ever noticed we have a National Day every day? There is a National Holding Hands Day, National Sex Day, National Siblings Day, National Donuts Day? National Best Friends Day? And as far as I can see it never stops. Does no one find this odd? Sometimes I feel like I am the only one.

United States is not  democratic nation  it is a Republic. This shouldn’t be news to anyone unless you were born after the flag salute became vile. And one should know that a Republic nation is ruled over by governmental law whereas a Democratic nation is ruled by the majority .

It is kinda sneaky of the press, our government and the corporations keeping us distracted to look the other way. It seems Democracy and being Republic has changed drastically as the government gains more and more power without ever telling anyone that is it one of the most inefficient governing power in this country.

But let’s look at this closer…first, the “powers that be” cause division. That has obviously happened. But it is important that we remain in conflict rather than staying aware of current topics.  Today’s subject  could easily be Putin capitalizing on Ukraine’s weakness or how poorly the Iranian Nuclear Deal is being managed by our top leaders. Yet,  we are being flooded with news and commentaries  about transgender issues instead. I do believe that transgender issues are important but do they really trump the 20 trillion we owe in debt to other countries? A debt so large we will never be able to pay it off in our lifetimes: clearly not under this Republic controlling the democratic majority.

But please don’t forget National Jerk Chicken day is two days after the Fourth of July. We really need to celebrate more.

Freedoms are slowly being replaced by rules. And unfortunately our vote only counts in theory. The Super Delegates and the Electoral College actually elect our leaders. But don’t worry we can talk about the Zika virus all day and all night to replace the reality that we have no voice left in this country.

Now that is good propaganda! Keep people fearful, while arguing with each other as they celebrate our new National Holidays based on twitter feed and possibly a push from the people who do not want you to hear the news.

One thing I learned living overseas as a US Diplomat’s wife is the public has no idea what is really going on. We are numbers,  populating inside machines that spy on us in order to decide for us what we should know versus what is really happening.

The big news is that employment went up one and half percent and our GDP has been raised. But there is no mention that the debt raised as well and that the people who figure out the percentages of employment do not include those who have given up on searching for work and or those who are partially employed. But on June 27th Rainbow Day is coming. And if you are lucky you will be able to gorge on National Ranch Day too.

Did you know that there were tens’ of thousands of videos where people were burning the Koran the day of the Benghazi attacks? The very reason we were not told it was terrorists and we let our people die. And the Egyptian filmmaker blamed for the evil film is still in jail over other reasons?  People are being thrown under the bus left and right and the news conflicts itself but its all right because National Wait Staff Day keeps us excited about life.

Think very careful on what you are being shown.  Ask yourself why now? Is there something they do not want me to see? The answer most likely is yes.That is what you can do for your country. Keep it real. Don’t let this self-made fast-paced world overwhelm you enough where you can’t see anything straight. That is the biggest danger to us as a nation in the end after all.