In Romania, right after I graduated from high-school, I got a good job as a sales lady. Back then, there were these kiosks in fashion, selling soft ice cream by the cone and soft soda pop. I was making as much as my father was, who worked in the steel factory, a whopping $6 a month. It was three years after the 1989 revolution, when the communistic system fell, our president and his wife got captured and shot.

The work was hard, but rewarding. The best part of it all was our boss, we called him Nenea Vasile, the kindest man I’ve encountered at that age. My Chet is a great version of nenea Vasile, and I feel so very blessed to be married to him:)

Nenea Vasile, was the first man that showed me kindness. I sure never got that at home. He also seemed so gentle in his reprimand whenever we made mistakes, and we made mistakes. But the way he went about it telling us how to improve was not damaging. He also became my cameraman, a completely voluntary position, at our wedding and I silently felt so very proud that he was there, close by, like a reassurance that everything will be okay. I looked up to him more than I looked up to my own father and to this day, just thinking of him, makes my heart smile, my eyes tear up and my heart full of gratitude to God for bringing nenea Vasile into my life. If he reads this, I want to tell him a big, THANK YOU, for bringing light into, then, a quite shadowed world I lived in.

God bless:)

 

The past couple of days-more precisely, since Tuesday- I haven’t been feeling that well. I’ve had a low fever going on 10 days now, nausea is coming back, body tremors, a little neurological issues and fatigued -more than usual. Last IV was a challenge since the veins were not visible despite all the heat (heat produces vasodilation, or enlarges the veins) we’ve put on. They were hiding deep within the body, as I sat there, pale and faint feeling, having Meleah, my daughter, as my emotional support. By the third try, the nurse, went into the vein deep with great success. “I can’t remember the last time this happen to me, multiple pokes.” To be safe, to me she looks 17 years old so it must not be too long:) This is just a brief update, now moving on:)

We’ve all had ”life lessons”. Some may have been hilarious while others had quite the opposite effect. Today I’ll give you one example of a life lesson I’ve learned many years back, even if not a hilarious one. (I will have to think of a hilarious one and write about it soon:) The lesson of wrong assumptions, not believing and assumed truths.

I’ve lost a good friend due to her wrong assumptions of me and my actions. It happened a long time ago. We visited them for a few days, in Portland, were they lived. At the time, Chet and I had to make a dramatic change and were considering moving to Portland and working in the old adult home (taking care of senior citizens) business. It was a move neither one of us really wanted to do, but we both recognized that a change was absolutely necessary in our lives in order to improve it. Next day, after arriving home, we decided, on the spot, to take a trip back to Romania. I needed a perspective and going back home always brings that. Five days later we were on a plane to Romania.

A month later we returned home only to get one of the nasties phone calls of my life- so far. My friend felt betrayed, thinking we withheld that piece of information intentionally robbing her of the chance to send something back with us for her family. In vain I tried to explain the truth to her, she was having none of it. And from that day forth we became estranged. I miss the times we had together, the friendship and the times we’ve lost since then. Once I got passed the hurt, I realized how important was for me not to assume something of others and, when things seemed to go a way I may not like or understand to have a little patience. From time to time, this memory hopes back in my mind and for a moment only, I grieve what I lost, but I pray she and her family are well.

You see, when we assume something about each other without the benefit of doubt, there is only loss left behind. I though we were going to be in each other’s lives until we died. Watch our children grow old and marry and see the grandchildren, but it did not happened as planned.

I made my own share of mistakes, don’t you worry about that, and maybe I could have communicated better (I’m not known for my fuzzy, detailed style of communication). I’m more of a headliner, and I say something when I think there’s a need to say something, but most times I just don’t see the need to say anything.

I’ve learned, from my mother-in-law mostly, that other people need to hear more about my daily activities just for the sake of conversation. To this day, she’s still the one that calles me and not the other way around, but when she does we usually have a great time talking to each other. In fact, tomorrow is her B-day:) Happy B-day MOM:) I promise I’ll call tomorrow:)

Life lessons stare us in the eye constantly, hoping we’ll pay attention to them and avoid further calamities in the future. I guess is up to us in the end to either learn something or just ignore it. Have a great evening:)

God bless:)

 

If there’s anything that injured and affected my soul (mind) over the years, is the disappointment over self, deeply intertwined with a high dislike- borderline hate- of my own gender, especially the reproductive system connected to my gender.

I am HIGHLY hesitant to talk about this subject, ill equipped to write about it and quite uncomfortable. I’ve managed to ignore the growing voice within my belly the past two weeks and this is my third attempt on writing about this issue. I’ve pretended, the past two weeks, the impulse pushing me to write on this subject was simply a self-talk and nothing else, no big deal, not important, especially not important enough to reveal such deep hidden secrets about my inner struggles publicly. Like a parent with a nagging child, I became tired of constantly being reminded, that for some crazy reason you need to hear about it and chose yet again, despite my inner arguments, to put myself in a most vulnerable position (I seriously doubt my sanity at this point) and share with you a few things (even if ill equipped to do so). Bare in mind that I’ve just begun my healing process in this particular toxic past thinking and it’s an issue I’m not comfortable at all to approach. But usually, after I listen to that inner voice I’ve come to recognize as from God (some may think it’s a neurological off-beat syndrome of craziness) I end up having peace about it. I’ll ask once more the same question I’ve asked many times before:

Why do I have to talk about such intimate issues, God? I would much rather pretend I’ve got it all together and smile all the way to the loony hospital:)

Here I go.

Where did this toxic thought towards my gender came from? I can safely point out a few sources; my own family culture, my Romanian culture, the Pentecostal culture I grew up in and surprisingly, later on the American culture (the only two cultures I’ve experienced). But I dare go further into our past: the history, the stories, the evidence points out to a clear inequality between the two genders. On top of that the image of God has been linked to the masculine gender far more than not, despite the fact that a spirit does not have a gender. This is not a blog about me demanding some feminist rights, or hate speech against the male gender. Not at all, at least that’s not what I feel in my heart at the moment. This is about a wrong and clearly toxic though against myself and my personal gender that has been hunting me for too long. Somehow, along the years (mostly in my early teens) I’ve grabbed unto some wrong ideas and let it conquer and punch me to a self destructive point. (If hate and trauma produces disease in the body- something science is beginning to agree with- then you bet I’m right when I say I let it destroy me.)

I have begun a research journey in all aspects of God’s character (both female and male attributes, despite the fact that a spirit is gender less). Most ancient Aramaic writings recognized that Holy Spirit was like a Mother (feminine) and that was fairly common knowledge among the Jewish people at the time. Now there are still few arguments, so my research goes on. The more I dig the more God’s showing me that I’m asking the wrong questions. It’s not about male vs female, two camps constantly competing with each other- a personal understanding based on social and religious aspects and lessons I’ve learned from the society around me- rather, it’s about a unified merge of the two in constant good vibrations and harmonious cooperation (frankly something very foreign to the human species- just take a look around and within to see the proof). We, as a human race, would much rather live with fear and hate than learn how to see beyond those limitations and start to act like true magnificent creations of God. Free will, I say.

This issue of mine come from a pool of hurt from within my heart, hurt I did not invent it out of boredom but was dumped on me in certain circumstances. Some of those burdens, however, I’ve volunteered to carry them long after the circumstance was gone.

Why do I feel a disappointment towards self- specifically towards my gender? There’s the obvious and there’s the other side of everything; a world we don’t see, but sense it’s presence from time to time. I was allowed to see a few days ago a spiritual being, constantly moving in shape and colors, like liquid matter but it also maintained it’s form, which was of feminine appearance, no doubt about it. It was an aspect of God’s character but not the entire character of God. I was tolled: if God lives within us we sit on the throne with him, (a mix of this continuous liquid like form was God and I saw myself in the mix, part of the mix, like mixing two different colored water jars and they move together in a harmonious rhythm). I was a little startle, since it felt to me like a new age way of thinking, but I was allowed to understand that new age stuff is actually inspired from the Bible, but they (the movement) put a twist to it, making christians afraid to even get close to anything resembling that area of understanding. My advice to you is this; take what is good (as the Bible tells us to) and really pray about the others things that may not fully captivate your understanding or may not have your full approval. I know I do this myself, it’s a subject I’m walking on right now like a toddler who’s just learning to walk and has a million questions. Yet, I keep on experiencing God’s presence and he showed me things that may blow my puny mind but it sure makes me think and ask questions.

Another answer from God; Woman, through their abilities to give birth to a living being and their high tuned instinctual sense (6th sense) are hated by the invisible negative realm far deeper than men (but men are not that far behind). Like I said, pray about anything you read and may not agree with. My intent is not to mess with you, to confuse you or to argue with you. My intent is to bring light into any inner struggle that some of you may have, similar to my own struggles, and some of the answers I get may help you or, at least, point you in the right direction.

This is a major struggle, in me, but I sense in many women, and I’ll continue to search and walk towards healing.

God bless.

 

 

This is for my friend L and whoever else may find themselves in these words.

Why is the painful road so long? Why is it so dark, at times? Why is this road of suffering so lonely? Why me?

Questions expressed in times of deep pain and, emotions lived in times of darkness, are some of the most honest conversations we have with ourselves, God or others. There is a time to act like Superman or Wonder Woman and there’s a time to heal from all the wounds afflicted upon us. Don’t be surprised when you feel the heel of hate and stupidity kick you when you’re at your lowest, sometimes from the most unexpected of people. In contrast, don’t stop being amazed by the hand of help coming your way from the most unexpected sources. God will always surprise you when you let him. Mine came in the form of Elizabeth, a friend I will cherish for life. Yours will be different, but just as amazing. Always thank God for such a gift. Please, don’t dwell in the disappointments of perceived notions but look up, at the unknown and you’ll be amazed by the possibilities.

Why some roads are longer and darker than others? I do not have the answer to that question. There are too many variables in the question and it changes from case to case, from situation to situation, from choice to choice. But it’s not wise to fight alone (a priceless lesson I’ve learned through my dark days) and NEVER EVER, give up.

I’m happy to inform you that I’m two mercury fillings lighter since Wednesday and have noticed right away an increase in energy and better cognitive response. I do have a 100.0 fever today, but this is the least dramatic response I’ve had since I began dental work. I steer my own ship fiercely ahead in my intimate relationship with God and my close circle of friends towards full recovery and health and I never stop praying for you (even those who hurt me). A complete recovery requires forgiving your very self and walking in a balanced mental state (Philippians 4:8).

The questions thus should change from: Why is this painful road so long? To: Who will I walk this road with? From: Why is it so dark, at times? To: Who will show me the light when I’m too weak to see it myself? From: Why is this road of suffering so lonely? To; Who is my truest friend? Then, thank God for your friend. And finally, from: Why me? To; Who will I help once I’m on the other side. These alternative questions are not intent on diminishing your own suffering, they’re meant to give us prospective and something to look forward to.

God has never guaranteed me a certain number of days on this earth, but he guarantee to walk along-side me all the days I have the privilege to live on this earth.

God bless:)

I have to apologize for the original poor written style of this particular blog. It was done in a hurry, due to constricted timing, but I’ll make an attempt into fixing some of the mistakes. Also, the story- more precisely, the argument- was far longer in real life and in greater detail than presented, but for the sake of keeping your interest fresh, I dramatically shortened it.

Yesterday, Chet and I, went to a neighborhood garage sale, here in Queen Anne. It was the type of garage sale that spread over many blocks, with loads of cars on the road and people on foot. A sort of fair-event style, with tables full of used goods, chatter and activity. We’ve walked for a good couple of hours. After a while my brain became a little fuzzy- a sure sigh of fatigue- and, at one particular sale I made the mistake of handing over too much money for my purchase. My gut instinct tolled me something was off. I went over the money in my hand, a $20 bill and a $10 bill for a $15 purchase, but I could not register my mistake. The teen looked confused for just a moment, pocketed the extra and gave me back a $5 bill. We went on our marry way, but something- not quite sure what exactly at the time- bothered me for the rest of the day and well into the evening. After few hours of rest, it hit me. I lost $15. I did it with my own hands and a fuzzy mental status. Yet, my mistake nagged at me in the morning. If rest didn’t fix it, it must be addressed.

Why was I still bothered by it? It was only $15.

This is one example of how I process issues that bother me. First I rest. Then, if not gone, I know I have to take care of it right away, otherwise it will fester and it will become worse.

Carmen, it’s only $15. Is it the loss of money that bothers you?

Not really.

Than, what is it? Thinking.

The fact that my brain was tired and I was confused.

Why were you confused?

Fatigue.

Is that rational.

Yes.

Why?

Battling this autoimmune issue.

Than it’s normal. Thinking.

I’m still bothered.

Why? Walking as much as you did it’s a sure sign of improvement and of health. You should be celebrating. You should be happy.

I should, yet I’m not. What is it? What is it? Thinking. ( I must address right about now a few things: I do battle with a certain amount of guilt over my inability, at the moment and for the past three years, to go to work an bring in an income, as well over the high amount of money my regular treatments require. I was taught to provide, always. Unable to provide, means being an useless eater, thus removed, by all means, from among the living- a Marxist education.) Than I heard the small whisper.

“Getting healthy does not mean allowing some of your old thinking to return- being hard on yourself by expecting such perfection from yourself. Leave that old and unhealthy type of thinking and belief behind and embrace the new health in front of you.”

That was it! The old perfectionist, the one not allowing me to make mistakes without a prolonged self-beating that lasted far too long-years in some cases- was trying to take the wheel again.

About a year and a half ago, during some of my weakest moments, God showed me something hard to swallow. Just how harsh I’ve become agains my own self over the years and how fast I had to let go of such impractical and twisted thinking. And I did, at least partially. Apparently, old habits die hard, and old instincts try their very best to fill the old holes of thinking. Recognizing it, it’s the first step to recovery. And most of the time, healing is not needed only in the body but in  the emotional/mind level as well. Over my recovery time I became very greatfull to my heart, brain, guts etc for working so hard to make me healthy again, and now that success is real, it will be absolute suicide to go back into beating them down with unrealistic expectations. Us, Eastern Europeans in general, have very high and unrealistic expectation of ourselves. Those expectations both injure and help us. Finding a good balance is the key.

Once I realized the core of my unease (see how far the core of the matter was from just loosing $15?), I remembered God’s lesson of being kind toward myself, dropping the unrealistic expectation and just going back to trusting Him. So I’m working towards that goal, and sharing this with you is part of it.

Have a blessed day.

Alin

Iaca ma fudulesc (pentru cei care nu vorbesc moldoveneste asta inseamna; a te mindrii:) si eu o leaca (traducere: un pic), cu frate-miu, Alin, care, incepind de azi, behaie (traducere din vocabularu lui Alin, inseamna; a cinta), pe linghispiru de teatru (vocabularu lui Carmen si Alin, inseamna; scena), opera, din doua in doua zile pe perioada lunii Iunie si o mare parte a lui Iulie. Asta-i eveniment c-am barosan (traducere; mare) atat pentru orasul Ulm, Germany, cit pentru Alin, cit pentru noi, care pe linga el, ne bagam in seama:) Amu daca as avea o paleta imensa sa ma palmuiasca si pe mine in citeva minute de aici pina pe primul rind de scaune, as fi acolo, cu un buchet de trandafiri rosii , care i-as arunca pe Alin la final, in timp ce el se inclina in fata aplauzelor noastre, la-s tuca (traducere; saruta) un pic pe obraz si pe urma m-as paleta inapoi acasa cu parul in toate directiile de la viteza vitezei:)

Amu, teatru sa face afara, si daca ploua au palit-o actorii/ muzicienii care vor fi uzi pinala chiloti cu machiajul stropit pe fata. Dar te mai uiti? Azi, una din cintare-te nu sa simtit ghini (traducere:bine) si iaca asa Alin o fo promovat si el, ca de, ar fi si cazu si a cantat baiatul nostru de i-a plesnit bucuria-n el, si ca atare, in noi. Dar in el mai mult:)

Linkul si ca atare titlul, va duce direct la interviul cu conductorul, Timo Handschuh, si printre imaginile din interviu il ve-ti vedea si pe Alin. Interviul e pe nemteste dar Alin nu:)

Va doresc o saptamina frumoasa, atat voua cit si mie;)

Domnu cu noi, toti.