In Memory of II 1/27

With my eyes at rest,

my breath deep and soft,

you sent me a song in my sleep -

a symphony for my dreams.

Only,

I can’t recall the melody…

or find the lyric swimming in the pink of the dawn.

And so, I pray for midnight to come -

damning the waking hours upon hours -

rushing my head to its pillow,

that I may hear your music -

the soft hum of the strings,

the low vibration of your voice.

Sharing only seconds of time in the confusion of sleep,

we are allowed to dance together again.

And as the sky turns navy – signaling night

I follow this song to wherever you are.

Follow I will, its sound,

till we meet once more forever

in the paradise that cradles your soul.

Sean

The Angel’s son,

my only one-

whose fingers will comb my hair,

whose smile does follow me everywhere.

Inside this tired soul you silently crept,

and with fragile grace

you did erase

any tears I had wept.

To keep you with me always as mine

for eternity and then more time

would be a mother’s greed and sin -

for you belong to everything made of Heaven.

Pray for Us Sinners

Used-

on hands and knees…

to mop up

the grease, the stench of your truth.

Rung out dry,

your filth fills buckets,

leaves me damp -

and Unholy.

The Story of Us

With forked tongue you speak,

coiling around lovers and lies…constricting -

two puncture wounds into the neck

of innocence.

Only a grin,

half closed, satiated eyes,

in the face of love.

A life…your reward reaped…

As you slither away.

 

 

 

10 Reasons why not to date a Sociopath

….right…

I’m not going to get into too many particulars regarding this one. Just the facts, ma’am…just the facts. The main fact to know: I’ve recently come across my first ever sociopath. Yes, I know..it’s taken a while. But it did finally happen. We can tick that milestone off my list and move on to the next one.

First, some real research regarding the nature of the sociopath. Not for the light-hearted, mind you. You may read this blog and realize you have one in your circle of “friends”, or in your family, or worse yet…in your home. (Heavens!)

Profile of the Sociopath

• Glibness and Superficial Charm
• Manipulative and Conning
  They never recognize the rights of others and see their self-serving behaviors as permissible. They appear to be charming, yet are covertly hostile and domineering, seeing their victim as merely an instrument to be used. They may dominate and humiliate their victims.
• Grandiose Sense of Self
  Feels entitled to certain things as “their right.”
• Pathological Lying
  Has no problem lying coolly and easily and it is almost impossible for them to be truthful on a consistent basis. Can create, and get caught up in, a complex belief about their own powers and abilities. Extremely convincing and even able to pass lie detector tests.
• Lack of Remorse, Shame or Guilt
  A deep-seated rage, which is split off and repressed, is at their core. Does not see others around them as people, but only as targets and opportunities. Instead of friends, they have victims and accomplices who end up as victims. The end always justifies the means and they let nothing stand in their way.
• Shallow Emotions
  When they show what seems to be warmth, joy, love and compassion it is more feigned than experienced and serves an ulterior motive. Outraged by insignificant matters, yet remaining unmoved and cold by what would upset a normal person. Since they are not genuine, neither are their promises.
• Incapacity for Love
• Need for Stimulation
  Living on the edge. Verbal outbursts and physical punishments are normal. Promiscuity and gambling are common.
• Callousness/Lack of Empathy
  Unable to empathize with the pain of their victims, having only contempt for others’ feelings of distress and readily taking advantage of them.
• Poor Behavioral Controls/Impulsive Nature
  Rage and abuse, alternating with small expressions of love and approval produce an addictive cycle for abuser and abused, as well as creating hopelessness in the victim. Believe they are all-powerful, all-knowing, entitled to every wish, no sense of personal boundaries, no concern for their impact on others.
• Early Behavior Problems/Juvenile Delinquency
  Usually has a history of behavioral and academic difficulties, yet “gets by” by conning others. Problems in making and keeping friends; aberrant behaviors such as cruelty to people or animals, stealing, etc.
• Irresponsibility/Unreliability
  Not concerned about wrecking others’ lives and dreams. Oblivious or indifferent to the devastation they cause. Does not accept blame themselves, but blames others, even for acts they obviously committed.
• Promiscuous Sexual Behavior/Infidelity
  Promiscuity, child sexual abuse, rape and sexual acting out of all sorts.
• Lack of Realistic Life Plan/Parasitic Lifestyle
  Tends to move around a lot or makes all-encompassing promises for the future, poor work ethic but exploits others effectively.
• Criminal or Entrepreneurial Versatility
  Changes their image as needed to avoid prosecution. Changes life story readily.

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Other Related Qualities:

1. Contemptuous of those who seek to understand them
2. Does not perceive that anything is wrong with them
3. Authoritarian
4. Secretive
5. Paranoid
6. Only rarely in difficulty with the law, but seeks out situations where their tyrannical behavior will be tolerated, condoned, or admired
7. Conventional appearance
8. Goal of enslavement of their victim(s)
9. Exercises despotic control over every aspect of the victim’s life
10. Has an emotional need to justify their crimes and therefore needs their victim’s affirmation (respect, gratitude and love)
11. Ultimate goal is the creation of a willing victim
12. Incapable of real human attachment to another
13. Unable to feel remorse or guilt
14. Extreme narcissism and grandiose
15. May state readily that their goal is to rule the world

Ahhh…so much to say about all of this. One really doesn’t know where to begin. In the aftermath of being involved with a creature such as this, it’s really hard to narrow it all down to just ten reason not to date one. I really do prefer all the reasons stated above. They are all true, as I have experienced them, but alas, I will be forgiving and keep it at ten as promised.

1. Let’s touch on Superficial Charm: Wow. They really have a knack for it. Be prepared to be sweet talked off your feet and straight into bed. Let this be your first red flag.

2. My favorite: Pathological Lying. You might think there is no way in the world someone can carry on two relationships at once at full force and energy, all the while using that superficial charm of theirs to calm down your suspicions and get you naked…but it”s possible. And they are masters of this art.

3. Lack of Empathy: My sociopath even admitted to me that he had a total lack of empathy for others. Red Flag Numero Due. But while being supplied with whispered sweet nothings (which really are just that…nothings) it was all too easy to “forget” what I had just heard.

4. This one isn’t on the list above, but it is a personal favorite of mine: hates animals and children. There is something fundamentally wrong within the brain structure of a real human being ( I say REAL because these people are mere imitations of the rest of us “normal” folk) if they can’t even look upon a bunny rabbit and pretend to think it’s cute.

5. Oh Christ, we’re halfway through and there is so much still to say. This blog may have a sequel: No concern for their impact on others…First let me say, there is no hope for this one. You can’t make one of these “people” actually give a shit about you unless there is something in it for them. It’s all about “What can I gain out of  THIS relationship, that I’m not getting out of the other one I’m already in?” Be prepared to be a victim whether you like it or not in this case. It’s all about them and their desires and needs. And once the shit hits the fan, they couldn’t give a damn about how it impacts you. They’re out of there so fast, all you see is dust.

6. Did I mention the bit about Pathological Lying? Just checking. Because this one is the dead give away, people. He looks you straight in the eye. He tells you exactly where he has been all night. He hugs you and calms your worries. A few days later, boom…the truth is staring back at you from your computer screen. If this happens even once…just once…Run. Do not walk. Run like your hair is on fire and don’t ever look back.

7. Oh, Unreliability..you sneaky little devil, you. My goodness! Suddenly there are health issues to contend with…headaches…stomach issues…sinus infections…And all in ONE week! I don’t remember which red flag we’re on..but ladies, if suddenly your sociopath comes down with the plague…a couple of times..he’s with the other woman. Yep. Hate to take your rose-colored glasses off your nose and stomp them into tiny pieces, but it’s the truth. Your sociopath is on the prowl when he says one minute he’s coming over and then three days later you learn he has come down with the something the CDC can’t even diagnose.

8. SECRETIVE YES! One of my favorites. We all have secrets, folks. We’ve all done things in our past that we will go to the grave with. The difference here, is that your sociopath man has many more secrets than you do. You’re a woman for Christ’s sake. Use your Goddamn intuition. God knows it’s the one thing we were born with that they weren’t. The sociopath keeps EVERYTHING a secret….even silly daily routine stuff. Always covering his tracks, he is. The rule here is simple: If you think he is…then he is. It’s really a very easy thing to pick up on. They mix the secret, with their charm, and a dash of a lie…and there you have it. A pretty little package of bullshit all wrapped up for you complete with a bow.

9. Lack of Remorse, Shame, or Guilt. I’ll keep this one short with an example: Say, for instance..not that this has ever happened to me..oh, no…that your sociopath has recently been caught doing what he does best: two timing. While he is covering all his tracks, he is telling you how much he misses you, adores you, needs to see you…Guess what? He’s telling the other lady the same thing. I don’t know, but that doesn’t ring of remorse to me. It kind of smacks of trying to get right back in the game again…with both of you.

10. Oh number ten. Here too soon, I am afraid. Chronic Infidelity! And that one pretty much explains itself. If you’ve taken him back over and over and over again…ask yourself: Do you feel lucky, punk? Well do ya? Because I’m willing to bet your luck has just run out.

On that note, I leave you with a farewell, because good-bye is too good a word for you…my poor lost boy.

Walt Disney Lied

First off, this is not a hate post about marriage. Just because I’m getting a divorce (finalized very soon, by the way) does not mean I am anti-marriage or ant-relationship, or anti-men. What this is all about is a theory I’ve been working on for a couple years now: Is marriage, as a political institution, still relevant?

I say: No.

Come back with me a couple million years to the times of the caveman. The caveman had two main duties: to hunt for the clan and to spread his seed among as many women as possible. The theme of that time period was survival. Did the cavewoman get angry when her partner mated with another woman. Most likely, no. Perhaps she was even relieved to see him go. She now had a baby to care for and the last thing she needed was another baby to take care. Besides, in the clan, the women supported each other. The women raised the children together, and let the caveman do his thing. Seems like a set-up I might enjoy. What I’m getting at is, there was no need for exclusive relationships back then. In fact, if they were exclusive, the human race probably wouldn’t be here today. Survival101.

Now fast forward with me a couple million years. It’s the Middle Ages and young girls are being traded like cattle by their fathers to the highest bidder. Women were married off to create alliances with former enemies, to create queens and princesses, or to just get rid of one more mouth to feed. Women were used as pawns for their families to gain a better status. Forget about love. Your husband could have as many mistresses as he wanted while his wife lolled away the hours with her embroidery. Sounds fantastic.

Here we go into the Victorian Age. In this era, women were once again sold off into marriages that were pre arranged by their parents in order to “keep up with the Joness’”. It was less about creating allies and more about money and status and gossip. Again, love is nowhere to be found in the equation. There was no arguing with Daddy on this topic. And the kicker is, once a woman was married and had children, those children did not belong to her by law…they were the property of her husband. So here we have a young woman trapped in a loveless marriage but cannot divorce or else she will never see her children again. Who’s coming with me to sign up for some of this??

Which brings me to Walt and the 20th century. Walt did something for the modern woman that no man had ever done. He made a promise. He promised that if you were a good little girl, your knight in shining armor would rescue from whatever evil had befallen you and whisk you away in to the sunset on his horse. I have a problem with this. And it’s most likely why I hate all things Disney. Even as a young kid, I could smell his stinky con a million miles away.

Why were the women in his fairy tales always  portrayed as helpless or sick until the prince comes along and fixes everything? And that, my friends, is the trap. The trap that every little girl falls into…the illusion that one day she will be rescued by a dashing young man, go to a ball and get married in a big fluffy dress, or give someone a magical kiss and poof!…there’s love of her life standing in front of her! And they always…always…”lived happily ever after”. Illusions and Lies. I got your number Walt.

How many of your friends do you know, or maybe even  yourself,  dreamed of their wedding since they were little girls? I guess this is ok. But maybe we should teach our girls to be a little more realistic. Unfortunately, there is no knight in shining armor, there is no prince….simply because no one is that perfect. No one falls in love after one kiss. Relationships are messy and hard work, like any other job. There is no sunset. There is no horse. There is just me in my CR-V riding off into the horizon.

So what is  up with the concept with marriage? Outdated? I think so. We no longer need to trade our women to our enemies to make allies. We no longer need to trade our women for a higher status. I think the cavemen and women were onto something. Maybe their situation wasn’t completely ideal and wouldn’t make the majority of us happy. But marriage itself was invented for every reason EXCEPT for love. And then Walt came along and lied to millions of little girls.

Can two people love each other forever and commit to each other without going through a “ceremony” to  prove it? Of course.  No to mention, you would be saving tons on your dream day. Yes, DAY. One day will cost you thousands. That doesn’t sound like a fairy tale at all.

Le Divorce

Doesn’t it sound so much more sophisticated in French?

ahhhhh…yes, I am putting it out there – as if you didn’t already know. My husband and I are getting a divorce. Actually, to be correct my husband has decided to divorce me….because we don’t have any more “fun”. That is all the background information you are going to get, you greedy little monkeys. True, I am airing my dirty laundry, but even a classy woman draws the line somewhere.

Honestly, this post is brought to you by the knowledge of Anne Cimerola, my grandmother, and Joe Schieve, my father…I dare you to try to find anyone on this earth wiser than these two. While neither of them have ever divorced, they do know a thing or two about a thing or two.

Joe is the hardest working man I’ve ever known. Although he may not have made millions, his work ethic is solid. And he applies this work ethic to everything…even his marriage.  The thing Joe impressed upon me more than anything, besides trying not to be such a procrastinator, is to never give up. Once you start something, anything, you never quit. I guess that is why I hung in there as long as I did with my marriage. I was wasn’t going to be a quitter. I never was before, and I wasn’t about to start now.

Now, that being said, we have a very different point of view from my grandmother to consider. Anne also never believed in quitting. But she definitely drew a line in the sand regarding how much bullshit she would take. Her famous words were always: If you’re not happy, there are two doors in this house…one in the front and one in the back. Choose one, and don’t let it hit you in the ass on the way out.

My only regret throughout all of this, is that I didn’t say those words sooner.

As for my father…when asked what he thought about this whole divorce situation, he only had one thing to say: Anne, he’s nothing but a quitter.

(now a quitter with a dodge viper.)

For the Love of a Dog (And for Uncle Joe and his Annie)

Did you know that a dog can save your life? I realize that the media is in the business of telling us the opposite: that it is our job to save a dog. But, for this blog post, for this moment, I ask you to consider that the saving of a human life by a dog is just as important. We all have heard about rescue dogs, dogs who assist the blind and those with serious illnesses such as epilepsy. But what about the everyday ways a dog can save your life…the instances that do not make it onto the six o’clock news?

My life began the very slow process of being saved on my sixteenth birthday. Lying in my bed in the very early morning hours, I felt an extra weight land on top of my covers. This was followed by much snorting and grunting until finally a very small, hairy rear end came dangerously close to my face. It was not a pig. It was a very round, very yellow labrador puppy with an even bigger yellow bow around her neck.  I don’t remember much of what happened next. There was shouting and crying and hugs and licking. And confusion. How did this happen? My parents had told me in no uncertain terms that another dog for the family was off limits: our house was crowded enough as it with humans. It wasn’t until several years later that I was told this was all the work of my grandmother. Everyone listened, rather obeyed, my grandmother’s edicts, and for some reason this was one of them: Annie will have a dog. So it is written, so let it be done….as they say.

Her name would be Heidi. My mother picked her out of the litter because at that time she was the smallest and that seemed like a very safe choice to make. Later, Heidi would make it to nearly ninety pounds. Like all pups, she started off in her crate in my bedroom, by then end of the first night, she was sleepy soundly under my covers, nosing her way underneath my arm. This pattern of her always having to be touching me continued throughout her life. If she wasn’t leaning her body into mine as we either stood or sat next to each other, she made sure she had a paw either on top of my foot or my knee. Heidi claimed me. I was her territory. I had never in my life felt needed by anyone before. It was a beautiful feeling.

Of course, we had our rocky spots in the beginning. She was easy to house train, but the amount of pure energy a lab has is impossible to train out of them. I’m on my second lab now as I write this and have completely given up on the hope that they can be taught to not jump, lick people excessively, or not to hop up on the counter and eat an entire pound of cheese…plastic casing included. I’ve learned not to mind these things. I look at their jumping as a greeting, their licking as kisses….but I have no answer for the cheese incident. The Dog Whisperer would be very disappointed in me.

Every night, the two of us would walk….and walk some more. Sometimes we didn’t come back for two hours. I was unaware of time and responsibilities when we were together. Being alone with her and just enjoying her company was my first lesson in living in the present moment. I can remember moments with Heidi that were the most serene, happy times of my life: sitting in the backyard with her in the summer, still in my pajamas, drinking my coffee while she leaned her big warm body against mine, looking at the flowers my mother had planted…sitting next to her on a hill at the top of our favorite park…my arm around her back, our heads resting against each other. And then there was the swimming. If there was a body of water nearby Heidi would find it. She swam uncontrollably until the last summer of her life. There was nothing better than taking her and a ball to the Delaware River and watching her dive after it again and again. She would swim until the point of exhaustion.

I never slept without Heidi. This was difficult for my husband to accept in the beginning of our marriage. My solution was pretty obvious: a king sized bed. There was no way I was inconveniencing my dog after all the nights we spent together. She made me feel safe. And I just couldn’t accept moving her to the floor: neither could she. So, Rick, as patient and wonderful as he is, moved over literally so Heidi could take her place next me.

She was fiercely protective of me. God help that garbage in the middle of the sidewalk that would appear once in a while when we took our evening strolls. She even pushed my mother in law away as she leaned in to give me a hug and kiss goodbye after a visit. Heidi had her reasons for behaving the way she did toward certain people. And I trusted her instincts. She ignored other dogs completely…but watched people very closely.

When Heidi passed away, she was thirteen. The family was on vacation in the Outer Banks when we received a phone call from the neighbor caring for her: for no reason he could determine, she began declining rapidly while we were gone. She had stopped eating and drinking and could not not be moved from her favorite spot on the living room floor. The twelve hour ride home from the Outer Banks was nerve wracking. Would I make it in time? Would I have to decide whether or not to put my best friend down? Fortunately, for me, I didn’t have to make any of those decisions.

Heidi did wait for me. Within forty five minutes of returning home, she took her last breath in my arms. How lucky, how blessed I was to be there with her at the very end…as well as at the beginning of our life together. My father and I carried her in a blanket and placed her in the my mother’s SUV. We drove in the middle of the night to a Vet hospital and had her cremated. Just a few weeks ago, I finally let go of her ashes. My daughter helped me spread them around our back yard. When she asked me why we were doing this, I told her: this way whenever we are in the yard playing, she will be with us. And whenever we are asleep in our beds, she will be out there watching over us.

I haven’t really explained how Hedid saved my life. At sixteen I was already heading into a deep depressive state. My grandmother was the first to see this. Against all of my mother’s objections to having a dog at that time, my grandmother held firm. Her answer was simple: Annie needs something to love, right now. Something to take care. A reason to leave her room and a reason to smile. My grandmother saw that I was in very serious trouble emotionally and mentally. The only thing she knew how to do was to give me a reason to keep living. I’m not saying that Heidi cured me of my depression. Obviously that’s not true because I’m still great friends with my therapist. But she did introduce me to the idea of love, and the power of it. She gave me a reason to get out of bed…even if it was to just feed her and clean up after her in the yard.

I can’t accurately explain the bond between a dog and a human. All I know is that it is powerful and deep. There is nothing the two of you would not do for one another. Let’s put it this way: I have an escape plan in my head for all kinds of scenarios…fires….break ins…natural disasters. You name it. First priority are my children…must get them safe first. Then comes my dog. Poor Rick. I just hope he has enough common sense to make it out of a fire alive, because after I rescue my dog, I’m not going back in.

I know there are so many homeless dogs out there right now who need our help. But there are just as many helpless humans out there who desperately need the love of a good dog.

An (Islamic) Affair to Remember

France: First let me express my immense disappointment in you. I, as probably the rest of the educated masses, thought you were a progressive, intelligent, tolerant country. After all, America and her Constitution were designed with your help. We would have lost the Revolution had you not showed up in the eleventh hour. But your recent decision to make it illegal for women of the Islamic faith to wear the veil in public, is hardly forward-thinking at all. In fact, you have just taken your country a huge step backward. Shocking, because I never would have expected this from a country that was once the hot spot for so many philosophers ahead of their own time.

In any case, one tiny positive thing came out of this horrible decision of yours. I was reminded of a friend I had once…eleven years ago, before being a Muslim automatically meant you were an “evil doer” and before I had ever heard of the term “The Great Infidel”.

Her name was Amna. We worked together as counselors in a residential facility for abused and neglected children. I remember when she joined our staff. She was tiny. Whenever a tiny woman joined our group, (such as myself) we all took bets on how long she would last. These kids were big and most of them were angry. And they had every right to be. Amna surprised us. She was strong…physically and mentally. She didn’t take any back talk, either. But there was one thing she was better at than the rest of us. Amna had a way of being eerily calm in the face of danger. She could talk anyone down off a cliff. We all agreed: Amna could stay.

Our friendship began in the break room. Amna was extremely outgoing and could not tolerate silence from a person sitting across the table from her. She wanted to know everything about me and in return she told me everything about herself. She answered every awkward question I had for her like we had known each other for years instead of just a few months. I wanted to know where she was from. Amna laughed and said “America, of course.” Her parents moved here from Pakistan before she was born. One day, I got up the nerve to ask her why, if she considered herself “American”, she still wore the veil covering her hair. She surprised the hell out of me when she rose from her seat in the break room and locked the door. Since there were no men present, she took off her veil and revealed long, thick black hair that fell to her hips. I asked her why on earth she would want to cover up something as beautiful as that. Amna was physically beautiful to begin with, but she turned into a Middle Eastern supermodel in front of me in that room when she revealed her hair. She tidied up her hair into her veil again, and told me that it was her own decision to wear it. Both her older sisters and mother had long given up the veil. Amna believed in showing her faith to the outside world. She said it served as a reminder to herself for what she believed in.

I envied her. What did I have to show for myself and my beliefs? Nothing, except too many books collecting dust on shelves and a “Save Tibet” bumper sticker. There was nothing about me that showed everyone I was a Buddhist or an Activist. I did have my ACLU card, but short of taping that to my forehead, I looked just like everyone else. Amna was special. She was brave in her decision to stand apart from everyone else. It is safer to hide and blend in with the masses. Just admit it, you do it too.

Amna was set to get married within the next year. Her fiancée lived in Australia. No, her parents did not pick him out of a line up for her. She chose him herself, even though they had never met. Amna didn’t buy into the idea of marrying just for love. There was so much more to making a marriage work besides just love. She was looking at the bigger picture. He was a doctor, she was working on her Masters degree in Social Work. They were compatible. I asked her if her fiancée had any idea how opinionated and tough she was. We all joked that this poor guy had no idea what he was getting himself into by asking her to marry him.

Amna was going to make a stop in Pakistan, to visit extended family before meeting up with her fiancée in Australia, where they would live permanently. We kept in touch while she was gone through letters and phone calls. She was staying with an uncle of hers on 9/11. In the days following that disaster, I walked around in a haze, as did most of the world. After a week or so, Amna’s face leapt into my mind out of nowhere. I made several unsuccessful phone calls to her uncle’s home trying to reach her. The line always seemed to fail. No one would answer. Finally, one day, there was a voice on the other end of the phone. I asked for her. To my relief, she was there. But it wasn’t the calm, brave voice I was so used to from all of our conversations. She was afraid. It was too obvious. She didn’t know if she was ever going to make it to Australia, now. She painted a picture of chaos. Everyone was now suspicious of any person who “looked” Muslim…making travel almost impossible. At the time I phoned her, she had been sowing her and her mother’s jewelry into her clothes. I couldn’t believe Amna had been reduced to this….a stereotype. All I could tell her was to be careful and that everything was going to be fine. She told me that in a few days, she was going to try once again to leave the country. That was the last time I heard from her. No more letters. No more phone calls.

In Arabic, Amna means “safety”.  I’ve spent many years with her name in the back of my mind….hoping that it lives up to its meaning for her sake.

President Sarkozy, you have reduced  brave, intelligent, steadfast Islamic women, secure and happy in their beliefs, into a stereotype. No one could talk Amna out of giving up her veil. In my opinion, small and insignificant as it is, you are a disgrace to the idea of democracy and everything your country once stood for.

Things My Grandmother Taught Me: Look Them In The Eye

“For God’s sake, Annie, stand up straight. Never look down at the ground.” It was Sunday and we were just leaving Mass. I was hunched over as usual…my shoulders rounded forward. (From my education in yoga I now know that people take this posture in order to protect their heart from any pain. These people live in fear and close themselves off from love.) For many reasons, I was hiding from the world….folding myself in half so no one would notice me. This was unacceptable to Anne.

Anne walked perfectly straight, shoulders back…her heart available to anyone who might need it. She did not walk in fear. After all, what was there really to be afraid of? She had looked so many situations dead in the eye. She was powerful this way…with just one look.

Anne never walked folded in half by fear. She did not bend to an abusive father…he had met his match in her. Instead, she straightened up and protected her brothers and sisters from him, hiding them in her room when he came home from the mines. She squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye. I wonder what he saw there. My guess is power. Toxic people can smell weakness in others. Then they prey on them, like a hawk diving to the earth for a mouse. Anne’s father could not sense weakness in her. He could not prey on her. I suppose that’s why he never had any real use for her. And that was fine with her.

Anne knew about heart-break. She  lost a sister at a very  young age (Philomena), she would also lose two children, later. She went four years without seeing my grandfather’s face because he was in Europe fighting in the war. And though they loved each other madly until the very end,  she admitted he was never quite the same when he returned home to her. And yet, in every picture I have of her she is smiling…not  a bashful, timid smile, but a brazen “just dare me to look away” smile.

Looking someone in the eye, especially during a difficult time, might be the hardest thing to do. But it must be done. You must walk straight. You must square your shoulders and hold onto the ground beneath you like it is prime real estate and it is in your name. This is what Anne taught me: Look them in the eye and they cannot ignore you. Look someone in the eye and you are a force of nature. Look someone in the eye and most of the time, that is all you will need to do to be heard.

This is the sad truth about your life: most people you meet throughout it, will try to take advantage of you somehow…try to invade your space and breach your boundaries. Don’t bow your head and eyes to the ground. Don’t submit. Once you begin the process of giving up, it will never stop. Do what Anne did. Look into someone’s eyes and dare them to make you look away. You will always win.