Karen's Journey

They push us away in order to sabotage our relationship before we have the chance to do it to them. Because the person they trusted in their first relationship was the one who sabotaged it. This time they want to be in control of that.

Training for my triathlons through the crappy weather that was this summer, I trained for any race day weather eventuality. Biking through car wash-like downpours. Arriving home from a run just ahead of a microburst that took our power out for 11 hours. Getting to a group training venue only to have it cancelled due to thunderstorms. Cycling through rain that was being blown so hard it felt like sleet. Open water swimming through choppy water that challenged one's ability to take a breath before the next wave slapped one's face. When you're training for a triathlon, you don't really have the option to wait for nice weather. Plus if you train in bad weather, you're prepared to race in bad weather. Not that it will be fun, but you know you can do it. As it turned out, I had beautiful conditions for both races. My take away is: train for bad weather and you'll trick Mother Nature into giving you a rare surprisingly good day. Utilizing that strategy, I'v...

I don't remember when my grandmother's macular degeneration began. I do remember her as a seemingly normally sighted person. I have memories of riding in the front seat of her tank of a Ford Fairlane car while she was driving -- I was five, maybe six, sitting in the middle where there was no seatbelt, and she cautioned me that if we were to crash or stop suddenly, I was to keep myself from flying out the front window by bracing my hand and arm against the dashboard. She was a master seamstress -- I'm not quite sure when I got my first store bought dress -- I remember my other grandmother taking me to the Big N and buying me one when I was in first grade or so, probably feeling terribly sorry for me. But Grandma Whitman's sewing skills were second to none, and our dresses were top quality. We had dresses that were hand-smocked. Even in her day, no one did that by hand -- other than her. And her work was exquisite. On my first day of kindergarten, Big Sis and I wore m...

It started on a Thursday afternoon in July. Something didn't seem quite right about how I was seeing my computer screen. I occasionally have ophthalmic migraines, so I thought I must be coming down with one. Usually the first sign is realizing I'm missing a tiny part of my field of vision. I can't quite read a word or a number. It's not that there's a black spot; there's just nothing where something should be. I closed my eyes and looked for the telltale pinprick of light. It wasn't there. I looked at my screen again and tried to find an area of vision that was missing, but I couldn't pick one out. I was busy, so I shrugged it off and went back to work. The next morning I opened my eyes while in the shower washing my hair. Directly across from me was the white fiberglass wall of the tub. And a circular shaped burst of rays of shimmering light, like prisms sparkling in the sun. Great. I hadn't eaten breakfast yet and here was the ophthalmic migr...

Because it's Gorgeous. I know, groan.  But seriously. This trail never disappoints.  The kids had a great time, although Bumblebee was heard to exclaim, "More stairs! I don't want to do any more stairs!" Even though she repeatedly had to be stopped from running up them. She would have done the trail three or four times before we wore her out. This was a spontaneous trip -- a rare chance to meet up with my family in my neck of the woods. These are times when I remind myself it's not all gun-metal gray skies and snow. Reason number two to love Ithaca -- it's a vegetarian's paradise. We were hungry and needed to stop for lunch on our way back home. Yes! On the road and not needing to hit up a Burger King for lunch! I spied the Ithaca Bakery -- where it's hard to limit oneself to fewer than five or six loaves of gourmet bread. A quick left turn and we were in the parking lot where I wanted to dance a jig for joy. Real fo...

I spent ten years in an emotionally and verbally abusive marriage. Here's a small sample of the daily barrage I endured: "As soon as I have enough money, I'm going to divorce you." "You're not a good enough wife to be a mother." "How fucking stupid can you be?" "Nicole Brown Simpson got what she deserved." "If you ever pull that [trying to leave our relationship] I'd do the same to you." (every time a news story broke about a woman assaulted or killed in a domestic violence incident.) "You stupid cunt. You stupid fucking cunt." "We can't have kids until you're a better wife to me." "No one else will want ever want you." "You're the most selfish person I know." (because I went running for 30 minutes three days a week) "If you loved me, you'd spend that time helping me, not doing something for yourself." "Wake up -- I can't get t...

I was blissfully away on workation last week when all hell broke loose on young black men. I stay away from news when I'm on retreat in the mountains, so I have to confess to not having an in-depth knowledge of each case. But, I know enough to be angry and I know enough to be frightened for my son. When we were considering adoption, we knew we wanted to adopt a boy. Then we were asked about race. My initial reaction was to not adopt a child of color -- whether from this country or internationally. "What do I know about raising a black boy in America?" I said to the social worker. But as things happen, we were eventually led to Ethiopia where we brought home with us one of the cutest boys ever. With skin I just want to eat up -- the color of milk chocolate -- but a color that, once he reaches a certain age -- will put him in jeopardy just because it's not white. I was hopeful -- we had an African-American president. My son has never known a president whose skin...