The Long Way Home

It was one of those rare, perfect, days to ride. The sun was high, shining in the cloudless, bright blue, sky. The air was warm, with no more than a faint breeze. It was one of those days that I was one with my bike, and felt the bondage of recent years broken as I rode through the Oregon countryside.

At one point I, as I passed the spot where I was hit ten years ago, my body remembered what my mind had buried. It was only for a moment, but I felt the heat of my arm lying on the highway with bits of rocks, dirt, and glass, between my flesh and the scorching pavement.

Flashes of memory, I'm not sure if they were recollections of the actual event or if I was recalling the journal entries I had written following the accident, ran through my mind, people, cars, fears, doctors, and much more.

Minutes after I passed that fateful site I settled back into riding. I felt so free, so unencumbered, so exhilarated, as I traveled the the road I had ridden many times before.

I rode for hours with the indescribable feeling of being set free. I took in all I could of the journey that day, the smell of freshly baled hay, the warmth of the sun on my face, the scent of blooming flowers wafting in the air, and the occasional sting of a bug hitting my face.

Riders know the feeling. The feeling of being one with our surroundings, and the ability to be set free of work, stress, problems, and the like. It is an experience like no other.

On the way home I downshifted as I exited the highway. I'm, not sure why these thoughts entered my mind, but I thought of when I first began to ride. I would call my father each day and ask, "Dad, when will I get this? When will it become natural? When will it become less stressful?"

His answer was that of a teacher of many things. "Teri, you'll become much more comfortable after 400 miles. Each mile after that becomes more effortless. Then one day you'll realize, after many, many, miles have gone by, that sometime in the past it clicked and became second nature."  Perhaps I thought of it because that day, so many years after I first began riding, I recognized how natural it was. I didn't have to think to downshift, I didn't have to think when to roll back the throttle, I didn't have to think about turning on my signals. I just did.

I could see Dad smiling, I rolled back the throttle and took the long way home.

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Kaleidoscope Mind

With each movement, each head turn, each tear that fell, it was if my world had evolved into a continually rotating kaleidoscope of shapes, colors, and sounds. From each side more fragmented pieces appeared and escape did not seem possible.

That which seemed real was not. The never ending bombardment of every imaginable shifting thought pushed me further into the spiraling technicolor tube of terror. I could feel the motion of the sea with each torturous turn.

My head was left spinning, not one cohesive thought could be formed. Each twist of the plot was more devastating than the previous. My eyes stung, and my head pounded, from the rivers that fell freely drenching my skin, my clothing, my sheets.

As evening crept upon me the tormenting events had not ceased and I saw only one way to clear my mind, shake out the poison, and once more see rationally, and that was on my motorcycle.

The weather was perfect. The sun had not yet set, the air was warm, and the bike would take every shred of concentration, and that, I hoped, would quell the sounds, the colors, and the shocks, of the days developments.

I exchanged my faded cut off shorts for a pair of riding jeans, pulled on socks and my boots, gathered my blonde locks into several hair ties, and headed to the garage to begin what I hoped would be a journey that would bring clarity.

As soon as I started the magnificent machine to warm up as I continued readying for the ride I felt the clutter start to settle. I zipped my fringed chaps, put on my helmet, gloves, and riding glasses. With each item I gained more mental courage.

I felt my chest heave with the deep breath I took as I swung my leg over the saddle and when I stood up the bike, put it in gear, and rolled on the throttle, even more fell into place.

I was at home, I was at peace, and my spirit was ready to soar. As I wove my way through the gorgeous Oregon countryside every thought was pushed aside except for those of the beauty of the State in which I reside and how blessed I was to be able to see the amazing handy work of my Creator.

I didn't rush through the ride. I took my time taking in as much as my mind could hold, the horses grazing, the rolling pastures, the peaked mountains, and the acres, and acres, of vineyards. Around each corner was something new to behold, and one more thing to push the chaos of the day from my being.

I was one with my bike, one with the road, and found peace within myself. The heaviness of the world had lifted and been replaced with gratitude and thankfulness. I stopped by a quaint little sidewalk cafe and had the most delicious dish of paella along with a simple glass of water. I chuckled as I listened to the conversations of those around me, and shook my head at the pretentious group to my right.

I was going to make it. It amazes me I  have a passion that has the ability to alter perceptions, feelings, and thoughts, for the better and allow a respite from the never ending conflicts, and complications that life can throw out of the blue.

For several hours I was allowed freedom of serious thought, and it was in that time I realized adulthood is just not something in which I always want to partake.

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I'm Very Passionate About My Passions

The days, weeks, months, and possibly last several years, have been a blur of activity, some, great, some good, some not so good, and some down right horrible. The blur of time includes issues such as health problems, separation, divorce, therapy, learning, and then a wedding, and more health puzzles.

One of my passions, my motorcycle, has been on the back burner, and when I had been able to ride some they weren't the rides I love. The rides I love most are trips, not over night, not over a weekend, but fully packed bikes, little out of the way motels, rallies, pictures, and most of all, very limited technological access and total emotional connection with my fellow riders. 

Today, well today was different. My husband and I took off for a day, a long, full, day of riding, thinking, and taking in the incredible scenery of Oregon.

The second I geared up and threw my leg over my Harley I felt alive. I was incredibly overwhelmed anticipating what the day would hold. There's just something about being a woman that rides her own Harley that is more than empowering.

I love to ride, and as we rode through the National Forests of Oregon, I remembered why riding is a passion of mine. I can see more when I'm on my bike, like the hawk just above me at one point, that I could have never seen in a car. I see the blades of grass gently dancing in the wind, horses graze, and old men fish. I see the world as it was before technology took over.

On a motorcycle you pretty much have to notice more than you do in a car. There could be deer, wet leaves, loose gravel, and those pesky people enveloped in a cage that seem to like looking at their phones more than looking at the road. So with all of that in mind, you see everything.

 All of my senses are heightened when I ride. There's so much more I experience. The beautiful aromas of flowering fields, and freshly mown lawns, are only two of thousands that come to life. There's the "woodsy" smell of the forest, the intoxicating, to a biker, aroma of leather, gasoline, and sunscreen. 

As we rode along the beautiful Clackamas River I could feel the cool breeze drifting from the rushing water and wafting in the heat of the sun. Then there were the "micro climates" we have in the Northwest that amaze me. Hot, warm, cool, and cold, could all be felt in a matter of minutes while riding through the winding roads lined with towering trees.

The biggest rush I think is the feel of being on, and controlling, a machine nearly 8 times my weight, experiencing its power, feeling the bike lean as you push into the curves, the vibrations of the motorcycle itself, and knowing that I have to be in control of my motorcycle, my emotions, and my thoughts, at all times. With that comes clarity of mind.

That must sound a bit crazy to a person that doesn't ride, but with so much to be aware of, I'm then allowed to forget, for the time, the problems of daily life. I'm able to think through things I choose without the constant tones of texts, and other social media bombardment. I can see life through new eyes. I'm free, not only from the world as it presently is, but from troubles that can be pushed to another day.

Today, as every time I ride, I remember why I fell in love with riding, and I fall in love all over again each time.

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There Was Almost A Death

We were out riding in the glorious weather yesterday. A perfectly, beautiful, much needed ride. There was no cloud that could be found in the clear, sunny, Portland sky. We changed things up a bit and rode down to NW 23rd. For those of you that know Portland you know how eclectic, and entertaining, it is down there. 

On the way it was amazingly awesome being able to smell the food carts, the flowers, the fresh air, At one point the song "Stuck In The Middle With You," came to mind when I looked ahead and I saw Mt. St. Helens to the left of me and Mt Hood on my right. Great, I thought, that song will be stuck in the recesses of my mind for days. I'm still hearing it. Luckily it's a kick ass song.

For those that aren't familiar with NW23rd, summertime is a magical time. Outdoor cafes, twinkling lights, great shopping, and fantastic people watching opportunities. There all types, as usual, out and about, even a woman painting a cow, a dude that sounded exactly like Louis Armstrong and playing a sax, interesting attire, dogs, and freaks! 

It was also totally entertaining to watch people that wanted to parallel park behind our bikes assess the situation. They would look at the bikes, look at the space, look at us watching them, and more times than not they would decide to leave the space open. However, a few brave souls were able to park there, not touch our bikes, therefore keeping their lives. 

We grabbed some Mexican food and enjoyed it at a sidewalk table in the cool shade of a street side tree right in front of our Harleys. We saw all types walk, waltz, glide, and run, past us. Here's a fashion tip for the millennial "men." You look absolutely ridiculous in your skinny pants, loafers with no socks, and cocky attitude, but at least you'll have something to look back on, and the way you looked in the year 2016 will give you a good laugh, as it does us adults now. Trendy isn't fashion, classic is, but hey, if you want your kids and grand kids laughing at your 2016 pics go ahead. The rest of us are already shaking our heads and laughing wondering how in the heck you can call that fashion. Although I do have to admit that it's much better than the trend of having your butt hanging out of your 30 times too large pants, it still looks ridiculous.

When we decided to leave it was hot and the roads crowded. Having lived in this area for nearly 20 years I know the back roads away from the, then packed, freeway. We decided to make a stop to get ice cream. We turned into the entrance of the plaza, I was leading. A guy in a white crossover cage ran a stop sign, didn't look to his right (where I was coming from) and damn near hit me. I had the right of way, no stop sign, and thank God I watch what's happening around me. I laid on the horn and I saw him watch me in his mirrors. He pulled into a space. I stopped right behind his death mobile, stared right back at him in the mirrors while trying to calm down and figure out what to do. He wasn't getting away without a lesson regarding driving in America, or anywhere for that matter.

He watched in his mirror as we sat behind him. He tried to pull into the space in front of him to exit the lot (dumbass) but another turned into it. He knew he had messed up badly and was then trapped. Since he had no exit I pulled into a space a car away, got off of my bike, and walked over in full gear, and knocked on his window. 

I could see, through the window, 911 was on the touch screen of his smartphone. Yeah a chick on a white and pink bike is REALLY scary right? He put down window, phone in hand,  and I said (nicely...believe me, it took every ounce of self control) "You ran that stop sign, you didn't even look the other way, you could have killed me and my boyfriend that was behind me." 

His eyes grew huge (as did those of his little blonde bipeds) when he heard I saw exactly what he did and I told him of his every move, he almost killed me and to please watch what he was doing. He canceled the 911 call, he knew he was in deep shit at that point. 

He looked back and saw my BF, that looks much scarier than I, and said, "I'm so, so sorry. I was looking for a parking spot. I was only looking for a parking spot." 

Me: "A parking spot? Well Sir, is getting a parking spot worth killing, or badly injuring another person?" 

He kept glancing in his mirror at my BF, Mr. scary, old school biker with a long silver pony tail, tats and tanned. I didn't look at my BF while I was speaking to the guy but I can imagine the look on my BFs face as he waited to see if he was going to need to stop a fight. I don't fight, but the guy could have very well jumped out and tried to intimidate me. That doesn't work with this girl. My BF was probably thinking, "Oh great. What kind of mess is she going to start that I'll have to finish." I kept my cool, on the surface, inside I was fuming.

"No, it's not (trembling voice now) worth a life. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." 
 
Me: "Well maybe you'll watch next time, and I hope your kids (that were in the cage) have learned something as well. You really need to STOP at signs, lights, etc., turn your head and look before you kill someone.You didn't even slow down or attempt to look." Damn, I could have been a kid on a skateboard, a dog, a senior on a scooter, or with a walker. We had the right of way and this ignorant person did not even stop, let alone turn his freaking head to see if anything was coming.

I was proud of myself. I kept calm when all I wanted to do was smash his freaking windshield in with one of the "tools" strapped to my bike. He and I should both be very happy I kept calm and he was polite or he would be replacing the door on his cage as well as the windshield and I would be posting today asking for someone to bail me out of jail. 

Moral of the story, stop at signs and lights, STOP don't roll through, and please look both ways. I think everyone one in drivers ed should be required to take a motorcycle awareness class. Then they may be more aware and not kill one of us, a kid, someone's pet, or anyone they failed to see because they didn't look. 

Please everyone, please, look while you drive. Stay off your phones, no texting, stop when you should, and turn your head. Be safe for us all. 

Oh, and look what Chickey did to my leg while organizing the garage and forgetting I had let my bike warm up. Dumb move! 

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He Asked Me To Close My Eyes And Walk

The trees were bare as I stared at them out of my therapist's window. They had dropped their stunning, vivid green clothing of summer that had long since died. They stood silently with their crooked, gnarled arms reaching high toward the grey sky. Life giving water clung to the fingertip like twigs and branches. Every minute or so several drops would fall to the ground and soak into the rich soil in which held their roots tightly.

In the book of Ecclesiastes King Solomon tells us there is a season for everything. This is in no way a religious, or Biblical, post, but rather an analogy.

Ecclesiastes 3

1.There is a time for everything,

and a season for every activity under the heavens:

2.a time to be born and a time to die,

a time to plant and a time to uproot,

3.a time to kill and a time to heal,

a time to tear down and a time to build,

4.a time to weep and a time to laugh,

a time to mourn and a time to dance,

5.a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,

a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,

6.a time to search and a time to give up,

a time to keep and a time to throw away,

7.a time to tear and a time to mend,

a time to be silent and a time to speak,

8.a time to love and a time to hate,

a time for war and a time for peace.

We've all lived these, all of us. As I watched the liquid nourishment fall to the ground in order to feed the root system of the trees, I thought of my life over the last few years. It's been a storm for all too long. While the storm that was is still surrounding me, it is calming.

The therapist startled me out of my thoughts with a request. He wanted me to close my eyes and allow him to lead me into a "meditation." Not a hypnosis type of thing, but rather a tool for letting go of hurtful memories, thoughts, and emotions. 

I closed my eyes and listened as he led me through the woods, seeing a creek, and watch autumn leaves falling to the water. He wanted me to see the leaves as the negative, hurtful, angry, thoughts, and to watch them as they floated the creek, went around the bend, and drift away. 

I did so, but being such a rebel, I didn't walk, I was on my Harley. I asked my followers of my fan page why they rode, but I never answered. I know now. I've done exactly what he led me through while on my Harley. I hear the sounds, I take in the scenery, notice things one would never notice in a car, I enjoy the smell of the fields and of the flowers. I have no thoughts during those times, I'm in the position to be stress free. 

It hit home in a big way. I spoke to my ex husband after the session regarding our son and while doing so I felt a compelling urge to tell him some things that had been holding me captive and unable to move forward in this new chapter I'm facing. 

So many things happened in 28 years, both good and bad, and I told him of some of my earlier mistakes that helped set the scene for the years to follow, he already knew of his. He had forgiven me, and yesterday I forgave him. I don't want either of us to hold on to bitterness, hurt, anger, or resentment. That will only hold us captive to the past. The past cannot be undone, but the future can be influenced by the past, and should, but I don't want it to in a negative way. He and I spoke of the things we did in anger and hurt before, during, and after, the divorce. It doesn't mean they weren't right on either side, but things where logic ends and primal nature takes over. They only caused more devastation for our entire family.

It's so very difficult to see when you're in the midst of the storm its causes. It's only afterward, in life's events, that we can look back, reflect, and put things into perspective. It's when we see why things happened, see mistakes made that turned into mountains, and an eventual landslide taking everything in its path hostage.

Was everything good in our relationship? No. Was everything bad? No. We agreed to make peace, throw the negative emotions, feelings, thoughts, and and any item that could possibly damage us as unique individuals, onto leaves in the river and watch them float around the bend of the creek, and out of our hearts, minds, and souls. Anger and bitterness won't, can't, change a thing for anyone, it prevents healing, and our entire family needs to heal. 

Forgiveness and letting go of harmful, hurtful, emotions, feelings, and thoughts, will only heal our souls, our spirits, and allow us to move into the next chapters of our lives a bit more pulled together, a bit more peaceful. Our family has experienced each of the seasons King Solomon wrote of centuries ago, and now, the war is over and it is time for peace. 

Thank you all for everything you've given me in this journey, thank you for understanding and waiting for me to see for myself, and thank you for not abandoning me during that long, long, storm. 

My family needs to heal, we need to make peace, if not for another for ourselves. We need to be healthy, happy, and let go of bitterness that will only cloud our futures and hold our hearts captive. 

Wow. I think I need a PhD. 

Sending love to you all,

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He Got My Mind Off Of It

Several days ago I was stung a gazillion times by swarm of aggressive wasps that pretty much put my ass out of commission for several days.

I'll write about that when the swelling is gone from my hands and typing will be easier. This is the first day I felt better so I grabbed the kid, stuck him on the back of my pink Harley and off we went.

The kid really wanted to go so he made mommy poached eggs and pancakes

 

Ready to roll

"Hey, it's a Harley."

This is more the kid's speed right now

He'll be riding ONE day

"What? You actually let me wear a little kid's helmet?"

 

Ok folks time for steroids, lidocaine, ice, and feet up.

Later, xoxoxo

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The Short of The Long Tonight

Well he found me lying in the floor unconscious, took me to the doc, another seizure. Fun times.

Then the psych diagnosed me with Stockholm Syndrome. Awesome. More therapy.

"Stockholm syndrome, or capture-bonding, is a psychological phenomenon in which hostages express empathy and sympathy and have positive feelings toward their captors, sometimes to the point of defending and identifying with the captors."

The doc is pretty freaked about the seizures. They wouldn't allow me to walk, had to use a wheelchair, but he made Harley sounds for me and pushed me really fast so I could feel the wind in my face. Can you say BEST DOCTOR EVER?

Met the woman that lives in back of me. Turns out we have A LOT in common with what we've been through.

More lab work tomorrow to check for a few things. Not gonna make light of it, serious shit going down. On the upswing I've gone from a 28 (basically size 8) to a 26-27 in jeans (size 6). Please God, don't let me lose weight in my boobs. I paid a lot of $$ for those puppies.

So tired from the seizure, gotta sleep awhile so I can do it all again tomorrow, hopefully seizure free this time.

And Susan, have fun reading. Even when you don't leave nasty comments, I can still see you're checking me out so you can burn up the phone lines with gossip. I think it's funny you have this weird fascination with my life. I guess you should, you're in the book.  Oh, and I'm not checking to see if you are reading my posts, I check my audience and stats daily, all of them. I guess some things don't change, ya know, like when you were a girl taking the "neighborhood gossip from house to house," as Denia put it. Grow up, my God woman you're almost 70. 

Enough for tonight, this chick has to sleep. Gotta be beautiful tomorrow and spread some glittery sunshine.

Delirious from lack of sleep and the seizure(s),

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Hey Strangers!

It's been a long, long, time since I've written regularly, and I so miss the cathartic effect it has on me. Many times when I go to write I might have a vague idea of what I'm seeking to convey, or a nagging question in my gut that is answered by the end of my post. My writing was part of my therapy, part of trying to understand my chaotic world.

I've had many, many, emails asking where I've gone, what's been happening, and if I'm still living. Well, here I am. Fresh out of the shower, no contacts, no make up, but I did blow dry my hair, so give me a little break will ya? You can still tell it's me, see the Texas flag and I am wearing a Harley shirt. Same girl, just a year older.

Where have I been you ask? Well, it's been quite the eventful year. Approximately one week before my 27th wedding anniversary my marriage officially ended. I've made three moves, and am about to make another one. 

Here I sit, at 53 years of age, having only worked from home part time, attempting to decipher the uncharted paths before me. I'm wondering what in the hell I'm going to do. It's been anything but smooth, but each day brings more peace. There's much more healing to work through and I need to learn to look at the world with fresh eyes. I need to gain a feeling of worthiness, and empowerment. 

For years I have been in therapy, and treatment, for bipolar disorder, type 2, generalized anxiety disorder, and panic attacks. I've dealt with trauma after trauma since my grandson died in 2004. Many of you have been through the ups and downs I've endured in my life. It was a life filled with uncertainty in everything that surrounded me. I sought solace, and escape, from the world, from life, from everyone, and everything, and I went about it in the wrong way. 

The blog I began to help others gain the confidence to take control of their world, and not allow it to control them, ended up being some of the best therapy I could have ever asked for. You, yes you, have helped me see myself through new eyes. However, being in the eye of a storm is not conducive for writing logically, so I had no choice but to stop. 

For years I ran. I wasn't sure from what, but the running continued until recently. I was running from demons I couldn't, wouldn't, see. They were creatures my doctors tried, year after year, to get me to realize for myself. They hoped my eyes would be opened and my marathon would stop. I could then catch my breath, see my world differently, and deal with the monsters I had buried deep within my soul. Ones that were too painful to face. They finally convinced me, although BD2 is a piece of the puzzle, "severe PTSD" is the major piece and I need to deal with fitting into my therapy, into my life, and into my treatment.  

When I was down you encouraged me. When I wrote something that to me was normal I would get tons of emails and messages thanking me for saying, admitting, what others hadn't, or couldn't admit themselves. They told me they had no idea they weren't alone in their feelings. Those messages were life savers for me. The people that wrote me helped unseal my eyes. They helped me see that the way I was experiencing the world wasn't the norm, it was outside of the lines. I've never been an "in the box" person, and that's ok, but you all have helped me realize that I wasn't seeing things correctly myself. I'll never fit into others preconceived notions of how a person should be, I'll always have an adventurous spirit, but now I can work on seeing the correct way of living in technicolor. 

Yes I have tattoos, yes I ride a Harley, yes I have piercings, yes I'm outgoing and friendly, and you know what? That's ok. If people have a problem with those parts of me, it's their problem not mine, and that's ok. 

I'll be writing of many of those monsters. I need to confront them, get them out, give them a name, and rid them from my life. I also need to be respectful of others, and their feelings, while being transparent enough to, hopefully, help others to avoid the same rolling boulders my family and I have endured. 

xoxoxoxo

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If You Don't Understand

Yesterday was an incredible day here on the West Coast. Those of us that live in the area know that before about June days like we experienced can be far and few between. It was one of those days you have to take full advantage of if you ride a Harley.

There are so many times I'm asked why I do what I do, why I ride a motorcycle. Yesterday was a perfect example of why I choose to. There's something about being in the open air, wind blowing on my face, and feeling free, as we cruised the perfect, sweeping country roads we were on.

Riding past sawmills with the smell of freshly cut wood wafting through the air, watching as eagles soared above, and smelling the scents of springtime, are experiences a person can seldom, if ever, have while traveling by car.

We rode through rolling farmland, beautiful rivers lined by gigantic evergreens, small towns, and centuries old graveyards. All would have been nothing but a blur in a cage. However, on a Harley every sense, every sight is one with you.

Riding the country roads provide perfect sensations for a biker, sweeping curves, straight stretches, seeing the newborn farm animals at play, and other bikers riding past. Having a windshield on my Heritage, and wearing a full face helmet, I was spared from being pelted by bugs on my face, my boyfriend wasn't so lucky. It's springtime and the flying creations are plentiful, and hurt like hell when they make contact with your bare skin.

At one point we stopped along the road, and walked over to a grassy patch in the shade. It was the perfect place to lie down for a moment, stretch out, and breathe in the fresh spring air. As we looked through the bountiful needles of the massive evergreen trees into the bright blue, cloudless sky, we saw the moon staring back. It was a site that would have been missed had we not been on bikes.

We stayed there a bit talking, laughing, living in the moment, before mounting the bikes once more to make our way home. Meandering through farmland is mesmerizing, and then came the Interstate that led us back to where we live.

That's another thrill. Rolling back the throttle, hearing the pipes, and flying down the perfectly paved road for miles. Much more caution comes with that part of the ride. Cars were everywhere, not many see bikes. They're too busy on the phone, blasting their radios, or in their own bubble, and the thoughts that they alone are entitled to the road.

The danger vastly, in my opinion, lies not with riders, but with people that don't use turn signals, don't look before changing lanes, and attempt cutting in between bikes obviously riding together.

Riding is something that is my time to think, not to think, to see, to enjoy, and to be free of modern technology. It's my time to live.

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