My Bonus Son

 This is Maxonn.  I call him my “Bonus Son”.  I think he likes when I call him that, as he excitedly calls me “mom” in return each time.

Maxonn, September 2024

We have communicated with, and sponsored him, since he was 3.  He was born on the exact same day that our Daniel was.  They both just celebrated their 21^st birthdays a few days ago. 

Mackenzie, Maxonn, & Lori in Haiti, 2015

He will graduate with a professional degree in accounting/bookkeeping from his college on December 20^th.  He speaks, reads, and writes 3 languages – Haitian Creole, French, and English.  He sings and plays piano.  He gardens and grows his own food.  He has a strong faith.  He is extremely honest and kind.  He is hard-working and motivated and loves to learn.

He lives alone in Port-au-Prince, Haiti.  He and his family lost everything but survived the earthquake in 2010. He literally risks his life each time that he leaves his apartment, each time that he travels to school, every time he attempts to pursue a future for himself.  Yet, he continues.  By age 20, he had already had to flee his home, and his country, alone, to escape the gang violence which was overrunning the city.  

When the violence was at its worst recently, he would message me at night, lying in bed, praying for sleep to escape the overwhelming fear and anxiety he was feeling.  He would describe to me seeing classmates dead in the street that day.  He would be unable to contact his family or friends in country for weeks at a time.  Stores, banks, governments offices, hospitals – everything was closed.

Sometimes he has food.  Sometimes he doesn’t.  He doesn’t complain, but sometimes he mentions that school was not great because his stomach was hurting because he hadn’t eaten in day or two.  He enjoys teaching me how to use, cook, and garden vegetables, and laughs at my pathetic attempts to garden.  He worries about me and asks me if I have eaten when I am traveling. 

He was hit by a motorcycle a few months back.  He suffered significant road burns across his arms and shoulders.  The driver who hit him didn’t stop.  All the medical centers and hospitals have been burned by the gangs, so there was nowhere for him to receive treatment.  His neighbor tried to clean his wounds at home with soap and water as best she could, and he used herbs to treat himself.  Again, he would message me at night, as he lay in bed, praying for sleep to come so he could escape the pain.

He had a bad urinary tract infection a while back that required antibiotics.  He went to the one remaining medical center, very ill, waited in line for an entire day, only to be seen for triage and told that yes, he qualified to be seen, but that he would have to come back in 4 days for the appointment.  They sent him home with electrolyte tea.  Thankfully, he made it to the appointment – though much sicker – and was able to finally get medicine and relief.

I don’t know how he endures as he does, but each morning, he texts me a cheery “good morning”.  He worries that I don’t rest enough and that I work too much.  He sends pictures of flowers and animals there and I do the same for him.  We talk and share and laugh about life.  He thinks our chicken coop is hilariously ridiculous, as his chickens do not live in such luxury.  I gripe about raccoons, and he gripes about goats. 

Egg McMansion at our house

We both love to learn from one another.  We can go deep in our discussions, it seems at times, because we know going into them, that our communication is going to require work.  Always.  If we want to accurately communicate a message, we expect that there may be effort involved in it.  Therefore, we aren’t easily offended or defensive with one another.  Instead of assuming the worst, we assume that we have probably misunderstood and need to ask more questions.  (Side note – we would ALL do well in relationships to operate this way more.  Don’t get offended.  Seek to understand.)   

So, he asks me honestly, and I must consider, why it is that I am able to take multiple week-long vacations from work each year, but his friends who have immigrated to the US are working three jobs and can barely survive and never get to take time off of work.   

I can explain to him why I do not believe that it is sinful to get a tattoo or to curse, and why it is ok, and I am safe to be a woman at home alone all day, and he can listen without immediately getting triggered.

His life has always been hard.  He has no physical help where he is.  He reports that we are his only emotional/spiritual support.  When your entire nation is living in fight-flight, always, it is hard to survive; let alone, thrive.  Hope is in short-supply.  Frankly, as I see it, America isn’t far from that place now.

Despite all this, his greatest desire for his life is to somehow work and earn money to help care for his family.  He reports no hope for this to ever be possible for him in Haiti, and we see truth in what he shares.

When he doesn’t hear from me for a day or two, he worries that I have forgotten him.

When I don’t hear from him for a day or two, I worry that he is dead. 

(There’s something striking to me about the similarity of effect in our lives between those two situations.  The panic that they create within each of us.  Love and Connection matter…. just as much as the physical provisions.  Anyway…)

We met with an immigration attorney a while back, did all the research, considered all the costs, and applied to serve as a sponsor for Maxonn to apply to come to the U.S. under current legal provisions for him to do so.  The hoops to jump through were many.  They are complex.  It is a teeny-tiny shot in the dark that it will ever happen – even though we were required to assume legal and financial responsibility for him to come; even though we have housing and all necessary provisions for him to come; even though he speaks the language and has skills to offer; even though we, as a family, have been through the immigration process before with our adoption and we were licensed foster parents for years and have all the security clearances. 

It isn’t a simple thing to do.  It’s a desperate, last-ditch effort that people take to save their own lives or the lives of their family members, to escape poverty and violence and war and a life of hardship and pain. And it is LEGAL.  They are doing what they are asked to do in an attempt to find help, any help.

These are people.  They are sons and daughters, mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters.  They are friends and family.  They are not monsters or rapists or murderers.  They are human beings.

It is sad to see and hear some of the hateful things that people are saying about Haitian Immigrants.

It is terrifying for me to think that if Maxonn is approved and gets to come and live with us for a bit, that we might be facing a repeat of the experiences that we had when we brought Markos here.

More racism.  More hate.  More ignorance.  More fear.

Frankly, I don’t know if my heart can take that again.  Yet, it is also terrifying for me to think of Maxonn dying before he ever has a chance to live. 

So, we choose Love.  We choose Hope.  We choose to focus on learning and growing and sharing.

We can work together.  There are solutions.  Choose to be a part of them.

Stop spreading lies and hate.  Please.  For my Bonus Son.  

Please Check Yourself!

Friends, it is high time that we ALL fully recognize something:

Society and the culture in which we were born and raised has conditioned and trained us to believe, behave, and respond in ways that are harmful to us and others.

 

If you do not do the difficult work of fully investigating your beliefs, your attitudes, your emotions, your fears, your triggers, your behavior, and your patterned responses, then you WILL unconsciously harm yourself and others whether you ever realize it or not.  

Cultures change slowly. Beliefs change slowly.  Physical changes are slow to manifest. Mindsets are slow to shift.  You have ingrained patriarchal, colonialist, racist beliefs embedded in your DNA, in your nervous system, in your beliefs, your responses, your fears, unless and until you actively root them out.

 Let me share a story with you.

  I took our youngest son to the dentist yesterday. 

The hygienist walked out to the waiting room, called his name, and he went back to the exam room with her while I stayed in the waiting room.

When his cleaning was over, she walked him back to the front and called me over to the desk with them for us to check out.  She handed me a prescription for a special toothpaste, explained that some of the enamel on his teeth is breaking down again, that he isn’t brushing his teeth good enough, and that he needs to come back again to have another area repaired.

I replied with something along the lines of, “OK.  I can’t say that I’m surprised.”, while he piped up with, “I’ve been doing better. I have! I’m going to do better.”

She continued, “Yes, well, he really needs to do better.  I asked him back in the room, ‘Doesn’t your mom ever say anything or get on you about brushing your teeth?’”

<screeeeechhhh>

Whoa.  Hold up. 

She just said,“I asked him, ‘Doesn’t your mom ever…..?’”

Excuse me??!!

Wait?  It’s MY responsibility to ensure that this other human brushes his teeth on a regular and consistent basis??  For how long?  For all of eternity?

Perhaps I should note, for you, the reader:

My son, whom I had at the dentist, turns 18 years old in less than a week.

He has received years’ worth of instruction on the importance of brushing his teeth.  He has studied bacteria in school.  He has been seeing a dentist every 6 months, at least, since he was 4 years old and came to live with us. 

He has long since been capable of brushing his own teeth.  Brushing his teeth is now, and has been for some time, HIS responsibility, not MINE. 

And, quite frankly, as a woman who has spent years in therapy trying to heal from a lifetime of this sort of unfair, untrue, dishonest, patriarchal, abusive bullshit, I take offense at the mere suggestion that it is, in any way, MY fault or responsibility.

Don’t worry.  I didn’t trigger.  A year ago, I would have. 

Instead, I simply laughed and said, “whoa, whoa!  I assure you that his mother has, in fact, taught him about the importance of brushing his teeth and reminded him over and over, for years, about doing so; but he turns 18 years old next week.  He is an adult now.  This is on him, not me.  If he wants to avoid having to come back to the dentist, then I guess HE will need to learn that HE needs to brush his teeth better.”

 Now, was that hygienist trying to guilt me into believing that it is my fault, that I should do better, that my son bears no responsibility in this, that he shouldn’t be held accountable for his own failures?  No. 

But is that what she was implying with her words?  Yes.  She was simply unconsciously repeating what she has been trained to do without thinking her words through. She was simply continuing her own generational trauma and patterns of the past.

The saddest part of this whole thing, for me, is this - what do you think she has unintentionally taught her own daughters, if she has them? 

How do you think their mental health has fared, believing that they are responsible for other people’s choices, other people’s behavior, other people’s refusal to do their part, when they have absolutely NO power to control any of those things?

After years of therapy and study and finally breaking free from a lot of the lies of this co-dependent, patriarchal, colonialist society myself, I can tell you what they’re probably dealing with.  Stress, anxiety, panic disorder, physical illness, autoimmune disease, fear, anger, resentment, isolation, addiction, abuse.

You control you.  And only you.  Make good choices for yourself.

They should control themselves.  And only themselves. Let them make their own choices. 

Then, be honest with yourself and hold yourself AND them accountable for the choices that have been made.

Truth. Honesty. Accountability. For ALL.

 

#dothework

#codependencykills

Growing Pains

 

I keep seeing a sentiment on social media that I feel like we should discuss. 

It is this idea that, as loving human beings, we are supposed to somehow prevent all those people around us, whom we care about, from ever experiencing any unpleasant emotion or feeling. 

That is a LIE.  That is not our job.  That has never been our job.  It will never be our job. 

That would harm them. That would harm us. 

We are not perfect, nor do we control others; therefore, this is also an impossible task.

It is NOT loving or kind to prevent someone else from experiencing pain or discomfort that they experience as a result of their own actions, decisions, and choices.

I know that many of you grew up in codependent, or otherwise unhealthy environments.  I know that many of your churches and your teachers and your parents and your religious books and lots of things in this culture told you otherwise, but those messages are lies. 

Pain and discomfort are necessary. We have to learn how to sit with our feelings.  How to feel the unpleasant ones, and cry the tears, and yell and scream when we need. Our feelings and emotions are messengers to our bodies in this world.  They are how our souls and our bodies communicate and work together to give us, in our rational/logical mind, a true assessment of our reality and bring us into wholeness - body, mind, and Spirit - all working together as one body.

If you involve yourself in someone else’s life so much that you prevent them from experiencing pain or discomfort, you are getting in the way of their growth.  You are keeping them stuck.  You are an obstacle for them to overcome in reaching THEIR potential, THEIR purpose in this life.

Pain, discomfort, and negative feelings are a necessary part of life.  They are the tools of learning.  They are how we gain information about our environment.  Without discomfort, there can be NO GROWTH.  EVER.

This is one of my all-time favorite graphics: 

I like it because it reminds me that ALL growth is going to FEEL scary!  There is NO avoiding that. ALL growth is going to be uncomfortable.  I mean, if you leave your ‘Comfort Zone’, you should expect 'dis'comfort.   (As my pre-teen self would have said, “uh, duh!”) 

So, anyway, back to social media.  This is Pride month in the U.S.  The concept originated after the Stonewall riots, a series of riots which began on June 28, 1969, when police raided the Stonewall Inn, a gay bar in NYC.  Pride marches began the following year, and the movement spread to include parades, festivals, and national recognition, celebration, and support of the LGBTQ community throughout the month of June.

Over the course of this past few weeks, I have seen the following meme posted a lot.  Posted it myself actually.   Then, I watched the comments flood in on various sites and pages, criticizing the meme, accusing posters of being juvenile or cruel, etc.  

The basic argument? 

‘Why would you want to make someone feel uncomfortable.  That’s so mean.  Why would you want to hurt people like that?’

Answer:  Because your logic is flawed.  Because what you are describing is actually called “enabling”.  Because feelings need to be felt, not numbed, ignored, or avoided.

Sometimes the most loving thing you can do is make someone uncomfortable.  (“Friend, I love you, but I am really worried about your drug use.”)

Sometimes people NEED to feel uncomfortable in order to grow! 

Sometimes people believe lies.  About others.  About God.  About the world.  About themselves.

Sometimes the only way for someone to be corrected and to grow is for them to feel a little sting of discomfort as they realize their errors.

Sometimes the truth hurts.  That doesn't make it less true.  That doesn't mean you can ignore those parts.

The avoidance of all pain and discomfort in life breeds sociopathic narcissism.  If someone’s emotional intelligence is lacking all ability to self-reflect and deal with the hurt of their own imperfections, then there is no way for them to ever grow. 

Don’t do that to the people you love. 

Speak truth.  Have uncomfortable conversations.  Make yourself uncomfortable sometimes, and you might just watch yourself soar with growth!

 

~Growth is painful. Change is painful. But nothing is as painful as staying stuck somewhere you don’t belong.” – Mandy Hale

 

Peace!

Lori

If Not Now, When?

I have struggled with anxiety for my entire life. 

In the first grade, I remember being shuffled back and forth between the top reading group and the bottom reading group, because I was super smart and received straight A’s on all my written work, but I barely spoke, so the school didn’t know what to do with me.

In the third grade, I began to learn the flute.  I played all year and loved it, until I was required to stand up in front of the school at the end of the year for the recitals.  Then, I quit.

In elementary school, I was a Brownie for a year.  I made new friends in my little troop and loved it, until I was required to go door-to-door and sell cookies.  Then, I quit.

Country girl here.  I was also in 4-H for a while.  I won ribbons at the fair for various endeavors and loved learning about nature and animals and the sleepaway camps, until the end-of-the-year required speeches.  Then, I quit.

When I chose a major in college, I chose one, first and foremost, based upon whether it would require me to stand in front of others and speak, and/or if it would require me to stand in front of others and defend a dissertation or a thesis.

Every job I have ever applied for has taken into consideration the avoidance of public speaking.  Interestingly, only a few have taken into consideration what I wanted to do or that which makes me happy.

Every decision and every path were in some way directed by, or affected by, this fear.

I have always loved to sing.  In the shower.  In the car.  Alone at home. But, never around others.

Even after Eric and I had been married for years, if I unexpectedly noticed that he had come into a room and was listening to me sing, I would feel panicky.

I was a double major in college for my undergraduate degrees – Psychology & Sociology, with a concentration in Corrections.  My Master’s degree is in Human Resource Management.

I studied people. I understand people and human behavior pretty well.  Yet, I used to feel terrified to be around them most of the time.

Social anxiety is a mental health condition where you experience intense and ongoing fear of being judged negatively and/or being watched by others.  I knew this.  I had studied it.  I was treated for it for years to no avail. 

PTSD and C-PTSD (Complex PTSD) can affect anyone who endured trauma in their lifetime, resulting in social anxiety and/or a number of other issues.  We live in a culture that is traumatizing to many - women, minorities, individuals raised by narcissistic parents, individuals raised in high-control religious homes, people raised in poverty or with unmet needs, etc.  Most of us have endured trauma at some point in our lifetime.  Trauma isn’t always what you think it is.

Trauma-informed therapy and treatments can make an incredible difference in your life.  They have mine.  Trauma lives in the body, not the mind.  Treatment approaches must take that into consideration to most effectively treat it. Traditional treatment approaches of the past are not as effective as trauma-informed therapies for this sort of thing.  EMDR, Tapping and other therapies can be far more effective.

8 years ago, I made a decision to go back to therapy so I could pursue singing.  I don’t know what finally made me decide to do it – a deep longing… or a growing sense of running out of time, maybe.  The thing is – I know music is meant to be shared, and I know that joy is found in connection.  And, I knew that I loved music and I wanted more joy and connection.

And so, in my mid-40’s, I decided, if not now, then when? 

 At that time, I sent Eric a short cell phone recording of me singing one verse of a song as a birthday gift to him, because he had begged me to sing with him for decades.  I practiced it for hours and recorded it about 10 times before I finally had one that I could stomach enough to send.  By the time I sent it, I was literally sweating, crying, and shaking.

When I first began practicing with a band, sometimes I would disassociate so much that I couldn’t remember the practice the next day.

When I first began performing with a band, I couldn’t do it without a lot of ‘self-medication’.  (Good thing alcohol tends to go hand-in-hand with rock concerts, I had Xanax, and medical marijuana is legal.)

When I first started singing, I was always stuck in fight-or-flight on-stage. One of my best friends took a pic of me at a show once and I swear it looked exactly like this:

We laughed and she said, “I was so happy to catch that look! That’s my favorite Lori-look!!  That’s your ‘I will cut a bitch’ look.”  (Clearly, I’m more of a fight person than a flight person.)

I suspect it will be a lifelong battle, me vs. my nervous system, but at present, we're getting along.  I don’t need extra medication anymore.  I no longer obsess about perfection. I remember practices now, though lyrics are still a struggle sometimes.  I still have RBF a lot, but once-in-a-while, you might catch me smiling. 😉 That panicky feeling is mostly gone, and now I can sing in public like I can in the shower.

Today, we began advertising my first solo gig with Pocket Cookies.  Not only am I standing in front of people singing, I am also writing and singing originals, and for the first time in my life, using my voice fully and without reservation, without fear, and without constraint.  Hallelujah!

For many years, I convinced myself that “it’s not worth it” to push through and deal with that fear.  That it would never change.  That that feeling would never stop taking over my body. That it was too late.  

I was wrong.  It’s worth it!  It’s never too late to chase your dreams.  It’s never too late to tackle your fears. 

Don’t give up!  Do the work!  You’re worth it! 

Let's Talk -- Over Here, In a Safe Space

I've been feeling a shift in my Spirit lately, encouraging me to start to organize and be more conscious with my writing again.  (Long story to come at some point, but, other than sharing on Facebook occasionally, I've been on a little writing hiatus.)

Over the years, I have used my writing for a variety of different purposes. I have published devotionals for women, maintained a blog to document our international adoption, am writing a book about my deconstruction from evangelical Christianity, write poetry and song lyrics, and have created and maintained numerous organizations' websites, newsletters, and bulletins. 

Regardless of the context in which the writing was being used, however, the underlying purpose for me has always been the same - sharing in order to help others.

I want to share with others.  

I want to share what I have learned.  I want to share what I have experienced.  I want to share what I have seen.  I want to share what I feel.  I want to share what I sense.  I want to share my fears and my hurts and my pain and my love and my joy and my excitement.  And I want you to do the same, because we are all connected.

What affects me, affects you.

What affects you, affects me.

We are all in this world together!

We need each other!

Let's share and be open and learn from one another!  That's the best way.  We have to work together, or we will tear ourselves apart.

Friends, speak your truths.  Lift your voices.  But also, consider other perspectives.  Listen to others' truths.  Hear all the voices.

It is my hope that this space will allow me to share things from my life in a safe way that allows people to choose if they want to receive or not.  

Love must include choice.  It is my hope that my open and honest sharing about my experiences and lessons learned in this life are received as gifts of information, a sharing of life for the purpose of learning and growing together.

These are my Earthly Offerings.  

Accept or reject them as you wish.  

Peace,

Lori