While I Was Away

While I was away, I rested, read less and wrote sporadically.  I heard the rain more clearly, saw small daffodils in their early blooms, and ran the lake trail in sunshine just three short days after three inches of snow.

While I was away, I heard funny words sputter from the mouths of my babes tenfold, while watching them play baby, superheroes, husband and wife, and I watched him as he marched around the house in his two- sizes-too-small Spiderman costume, hands on his hips, saying, I'm not playing; Brooklynn wont marry me. 

While I was away, my three year old told me I was pretty, and has made it a daily event to crawl into my bed each day before sunrise.  Though he likes to be cuddled and snuggled and held, he hardly told me goodbye when he walked into his new classroom of six other 3 year old boys, just a few weeks ago.  He's so sweet, his teacher said, he's so snuggly.  This I know well, as I wake in the morning with my arm extended toward the headboard and a Spiderman clad toddler taking over my side of the bed. 

While I was away, I realized that having or doing exactly what I am, is exactly what my five year old wants, too.  Are you having Greek yogurt on top of your soup?  Then I want some, too.  I realized that when the boy receives a wood craft at checkout from the Home Depot cashier, that I must ask for two, because the girl believes the crafting world is her territory.  I realized that she likes to be where I am, standing on the stool as I cook, talking in my ear as I sit, motioning me to get out of bed as I wake.

While I was away, I took myself off of my anti-depressants.  I also decided to quit having a drink and no longer crave coffee three times a day.  Thankfully, I haven't an addictive personality, unless hoarding books, running and loving Jesus are addictive--I'm okay with that.

While I was away, I decided to not go back to school to finish my Masters in Teaching, but pour myself into my work in prevention.  Tomorrow, I meet with a man who has built a life around helping hurting teens, prevention and bringing an awareness to suicide.  I plan to ask him about his faith and how he shares it?  And I expect to see that in this work, the brink of devastation thick in the air, while hope rises.

While I was away, I considered shame and how debilitating it can become, how it takes lives and stirs them, shaking them upside down into a tornado of lies and fear, and how, if one can see even a sliver of hope through it, a rainbow awaits her on the other side.

While I was away, I thought about my book proposal and those few chapters that envelope a pain that I knew so familiar, and wonder how I can weave into it The Light?  While I was away, I happened upon this idea a small handful of times--"The more scared we are of a work or calling, the more sure we can be that we have to do it," and I cling to it, even in my baffled-ness.

While I was away, I grew spiritually, and have been working on the ways I can better lead.  I've considered my fear of public speaking and decided that I will no longer fear it, but embrace my unpracticed-courage.  I'm ready to be more, say more and do more, even if my nature depends a lot on solitude and not an ounce in the spotlight.

While I was away, I decided to not settle--not in this life, in circumstances, not in the plans I have for my family and the wants that I have for my children.  I contemplated friendships and what I must give to expect what I expect.  I have set my sights high and expecting a life anointed--a life where God unfolds his favor while we are guided and lead by Him.

While I was away, I lived, loved and grew; I was nourished and renewed and relieved. 

And for these things, I am happy.  For it is the times we are away, the heart grows fonder, the roots grow stronger, and the love runs deeper. 
Friends, thanks for allowing me to be away.

image credit

Thoughts on Three Things We Don't Like Talking About: Depression, Bullying & Suicide

I've been treading carefully, as of late, in my work as an Olweus Bully Prevention Trainer.  Hence the reason you haven't heard too much about that area of my life.  Last November, I gathered myself, presented myself brave and headed to Seattle to become one of 750+ Olweus trainers in the US.  It was a draining and emotional five days in the rainy city, yet I was determined to begin making progress in the area that held me down for nearly a decade. 

I was bullied, and it wrecked me emotionally for longer than I like to admit.  It changed me and I was lost in my own story for a long time.  Throughout my healing over the years, it has occurred to me over and over again that quite possibly my greatest work lies in this very sort of prevention--the main reason for Seattle and Olweus.  But just as life climbs and plateaus, so do emotions.

In the winter, I realized I had fallen into a depression.  I'd been avoiding this reality, as I was afraid of falling into such a state, after having dealt with a severe bout of depression when I was eighteen.  I recall the bleak, blankness of my life, the lack of tears, the sleep-filled afternoons; the frustration that I felt was my life.  I felt trapped and misunderstood.  I eventually pulled myself out (I think beginning to live my life without trying to please the ones I wanted to please, helped) and began to feel healthier, emotionally.

Last winter was different.  I can't pin-point for you where the root of depression stemmed, but it took hold and created quite a struggle.  I was tired, emotional, negative, and succumbed to many crying sessions.  I woke every night for hours on end and my heart literally felt heavy at the sight of another rainy morning.  I felt sad; I felt frustrated.

I made mental lists for all the reasons I may have been feeling so blue....

• our wreck of a new house
• the rain
• my low back injury which prevented me from doing the running that I loved
• being unsure of my work in writing and Olweus
• my Husband's business partnership splitting
• taking Brooklynn out of the preschool that she enjoyed so much because the drive was too long
• feeling the financial strains of Husband starting a new business
• all of the above making me feel insecure

It was a lot for me, so I had to take hold of it and see my doctor.  I took a step back from the the things that caused me to overextend myself, especially Olweus--the area that requires much clarity and emotional health for me to do the work, and for the last three months or so, I've been feeling myself again. 

As of fairly recently, I've been hit with a handful of reminders and nudges of the work that I so desperately want to do, but I know, I have to be feeling well to do such a heart-wrenching work. 

Did you see the 48 Hours special, Words Can Kill on Friday?  Then just a few minutes ago there was this headline on MSNBC,

 Teen Contributor to 'It Get's Better Project' Takes His Own Life

It reminded me of the recent news stories of two young suicides down at round lake, and when I looked the stories up, it led me to three more names of recent young suicides, bringing the total to five in the area in the since January. 

I'm worked up.  Especially at the thought of people like the administrator that I ran into the other week, who avoided me after our meeting on implementing the Olweus Bully Prevention Program into his school.  He was on board, supportive, told me to call the next month, and then quit returning my emails.  Hassling adults, or administrators, is not my interest, so our correspondence ended there.  But it was awkward when we found ourselves in the foyer of the Human Society together the other week.  I tried to not be seen, he called me by my middle name?, and we made quick small-talk about how we were supposed to meet the year before..."call me anytime," he said.  Yeah.

But then I read daily about my dear friend, Ann, who runs Jeremiah's Hope on Facebook, named after her son, who took his life five years ago or so.  I think of him, and how she works tirelessly to show the importance of this issue--this work, to each and every person she can reach, to tell them about this potential killer that is bullying.  I think of how like me, she doesn't like to public speak, but has a message to share that is so important that she's willing to speak with her voice and hands shaking, and I'm inspired.  I'm filled with hope and care for these kids.  I'm tired of it, and it is time to be part of the change.

Jeremiah Gettis

September is Suicide Prevention Month

Today is the first day of Suicide Prevention month. 
They say you can't begin to prevent suicide unless you are willing to talk about it.

Are you willing?

Are you willing to say no when you see others mistreated?

Your no could make a world of difference. 
It would for silent, Ayle Pollack.

Choose to Stand For the Silent.
You can read more about Ayle on Fox News.

Ten Years Later

It seems I blink and it's time for a new Little Things post!  I thoroughly enjoy documenting the little things in my life and it is nice to share them with you.  I can honestly say, since I began writing these lists, I've become more positive and grateful. 

I was thinking yesterday, as I talked with a friend about God and how He gives each of us gifts and talents, that I'm thankful that God has gifted me the ability to find awe and comfort in His little things.  Just ten years ago or so, I was a completely different person, battling depression and lacking hope.  My faith was different, too.  I wasn't sure what or how to believe as far as religion went, even though I grew up in a very religious family.  I wanted to know God, but to know Him, you have to believe Him and all He has promised for our lives--and I hadn't the first clue where to begin.  I had felt so sad and broken for so long, and believed that I was less for various reasons, that I kept everything that I'd learned about God at arms length.  How could it be--that He would love me, care about me, want the best for me?  How was I worthy of such unconditional love when I didn't even love myself?

Though I have much to say about the epidemic that is bullying, today it is about the little things, and the way God pours out his love in the surroundings and people of our lives.  The little things embody hope and happiness.  They are the things that make my life overflow in an abundance of inspiring and special moments.

Recent Little Things...

~My daughter's compassion for her father, and wanting to take care of him when he is sick.  Yesterday he had two wisdom teeth pulled and some other work done at the dentist, and before Husband returned home, Brooklynn had a bed made on the couch, an icepack, a heat pack, a cup and paper towels ready on the coffee table.  I think she even had the remote set aside for him!

~The surprise parcel of housewarming books from my dear friend, Ann.  I've spoken of her before, as I met her at the Olweus Bully Prevention Conference last fall. 

Her son didn't make it through his abuse before he took his own life. 

Even through the subject of bullying takes on a very personal meaning to Ann and her family, she is an ambassador of hope, and her kindness speaks multitudes of the very person she is.  She is a gift.

~The smell of campfire.

~A sunny Fourth of July forecast ahead!  It usually rains here in the great state of Washington on the Fourth.

Piecing together bits of our home and finding inspiration for the one-days...

~Camping.  I. need. a. camping. trip.

You too?

Would you like to join The Little Things series?

I host every Thursday and would love to have you join!

You can link up on my right sidebar, and please do visit the others who share their joy!

xx, Cassie

image via pinterest

Today is Pink Shirt Day

Today is International STAND UP to Bullying Day.

Since this cause is one that is near and dear to my heart,
and since my work lies in Bully Prevention,
I leave you with this. 

These kids are awesome.

To find out why this cause hits close to home,
feel free to read this, this and this.
I'll be back wearing my pink shirt.

-Cassie

YouTube originally seen on Poppytalk

questions of merit and clarity.

October is Bully Prevention month.

Two and a half weeks ago, I returned home from Seattle, where I took part in four days of Olweus Bully Prevention Program training.  In all, I was away for five days, and they were the longest, mentally draining, at times emotionally exhausting days I have experienced since before having children. 

While on my train ride to the north, thoughts of what ifs began to unearth from the deepest pits in my mind.  Will they ask why I was there, and if so, could I answer effectively without any quiver in my voice?  Had I healed enough, and was I ready to teach on this issue that for so many years bound my heart in rivets of lies, and caused me turmoil so great that I was unsure if the depression would ever allow me to be normal again?  I wondered if I was qualified to sit in a room with teachers, principals, administrators, even authors and those who follow their names with M. Ed. , Ed. D?  Would the emotions heave onto my heart and make speaking unbearable, or would I want to leave all together like I did in college while the other soon-to-be teachers talked frivolously and ignorantly about teens and rights of passage?

Suddenly, I was questioning if my own experience had any merit, if my heart for the kids who deal with such issues matter enough, or if my personal experience is enough to get my foot in the door, and in front of the teachers who may or may not think their school has a problem, or in front of the teachers who really don't get paid enough to act as social workers on top of their long list of other teacherly duties, but who feel it their ethical obligation to know how to intervene when they witness or hear of peer abuse among students.

When I realized what was happening, I consciously pulled myself from the negative self-talk of pre-destined failure and inadequacy, and looked north.  I set all the had-beens aside and moved my mind from the realm that I've lived, and away from the feelings that still manage to creep in like the coldest gusts of air that move in from some distant door left ajar, to keep moving; to press on in these moments of not enough answers, and embrace them, and accept them as part of reaching my destination.

God knew I needed some reinforcement, and offered clarity in the softest voice.  We had just been shuffled around into new tables of five and were to begin the next exercise.  After a few quiet moments of reflection, we were to share any experiences of bullying or being bullied in school, and what it felt like when we were at that age...The table leader shared her most vivid memory and then asked me if anything had come to my mind?  For a moment, I floundered.  I have stories falling out of my back pockets, the question was really, which one to choose?  I grappled for a moment, finally choosing one that would suffice.  You'd think I'd be okay with making an example out of myself, especially at a bully prevention training, since I do quite a bit of writing on the subject, but divulging such experiences to strangers, on the spot nonetheless, was quite uncomfortable.

After a short break, the woman who had been sitting next to me returned to the table and said, "I think that was really brave of you to share your experience."  I was surprised and caught of guard to be called brave, and thanked her.  Then she told me that her son had committed suicide four years before as the result of having been bullied.  I was stunned.  Her words pierced my ears and heart in an instant, yet she told her truth with such blatant honesty in the softest voice.  She continued to talk, and I attempted to add in where I could, to be polite, but really, I felt as though I'd slammed into a wall.  You don't know how much you don't know, until someone unexpectedly hands you unfathomable pain, in one sentence.  We exchanged a few more words, briefly explaining each our passion on the subject of bully prevention before the session began again. 

I was still stunned.  After a few more minutes, the reality of the heartache and the loss and the passion that sat next to me, caused my heart to wrench.  I wanted to release the emotions that had filled my chest in an ongoing sob.  I wanted to make a quick exit and return another time, when the emotions and the reality were detached from the program and the workbooks, but I couldn't.  So I gathered myself up with thoughts of her strength.

Meeting Ann, was a blessing, and an undeniable connection was made.  Her story and her strength encourage me in my journey and in my passion for bully prevention because it is kids like her Jeremiah that no longer have their voice to stand against bullying, but who deserve to be stood for.  It is these kids and those who are currently dealing with peer abuse who make it easier to pray for more courage, confidence, persistence and tirelessness to do this work, to prevent others from having to deal with peer abuse, and make something of the memories that would otherwise remain the colorless time in my life.   

You can stand for the silent too, and read more about Jeremiah's Hope here.

October 22nd is Jeremiah's Hope for Kindness Day.  

In memory of those who have dealt with peer abuse and those who are still dealing with peer abuse, please wear yellow.  It was Jeremiah's favorite color.

via

I have a date

 with CNN for the next five nights.

Tonight begins the week-long focus on school bullying.

Last week, there was the college boy who committed suicide after his

sexual encounter with a man was streamed live online.

Earlier today there was this.

Both stories nearly broke my heart.

Ty Smalley was only eleven when he took his life.

His father said it right when he said,

"you want to know what bullying and suicide is all about,

you talk to the people and the family who it effects the most."

Because I have my own story of being bullied,

stories like these

make me so angry.

It bewilders me that children are so harsh, and the events are so continuous

and without intervention, that in some cases,

it leads to death.

For those who don't choose death,

many chose silence,

and the silence can be extremely detrimental, too.

In my experience, my silence built the foundation for major emotional distress.  

Because talking with my bullies directly about the hurt they were causing me felt out of the question,

and because I silently agreed to "forget about it" as soon as they went on to high school and the regular degradation they had caused ended, I never learned to deal with the emotions that it caused--effectively.

Instead it left broken emotions at my feet.

Sadness. Anger. At times Rage. Staggering relationships. Depression.

When bullies target,

it causes an immense amount of stress, loss of confidence and sense of safety.

Unfortunately, these things last far past the actual bullying itself.

years. decades.

It did for me.

You can

Stand for the Silent

on their Facebook page.

Watch CNN.

It's important.

Times here.

go get it.

My meeting yesterday was a success.

It is a wonderful feeling to know that wherein your life has led you,

there is purpose.

The principal who I met with yesterday,

wants to implement the program.

His being on board with the cause--

{bully prevention}

instills in me confirmation

and confidence.

To know that I can give on a community level

instills a reward

that is priceless.

When I injured my back five months ago,

my plans to run the Portland Marathon

were tossed out.

At first, it was only an annoyance,

I figured my back would heal in under a week,

and that I'd hit the pavement again.

But it wasn't that easy.

Each time I thought I'd had adequate rest,

and the strains had healed,

I'd go out to run

and find my back pulling and straining again.

I paid visits to my chiropractor regularly,

and

underwent serious therapeutic massage.

When I say therapeutic, I mean

fist-clenching pain.

During this time, I was also doing quite a bit of writing.

My mission was to put the painful past onto the page;

to write it out;

to have it written in effort to sort, to understand,

and to heal;

to help others heal.

Then my back issues flared up.

How do you focus in two drastically different areas

when each feels like it requires

WHOLE HEART?

 I recall being in the shower one day,

when I thought,

I wonder why I haven't thought to pray about my back issues?

I am the praying type, so for a moment, this boggled my mind.

My mind moved along to my next thought,

tucked far behind the obligations, stresses, and daily redundance that consumes--

because you know there is a lesson in this back pain.

Then the following dawned on me--
You can't run two marathons at once.

I am not capable of writing a book proposal,

advocating for the broken,

running a marathon,

let alone a household,

while raising two toddlers.

My life is not meant to happen this way.

I am a passionate woman, but passion can only

be spread so thin before it moves into insanity.

It took some time--a few more runs that threw my back into further strain,

before I really began to let up.

The lessons I'm learning aren't only

FOCUS,

but

DISCIPLINE

OBEDIENCE

and

FAITH--

faith that when something is off--

when you are moving against the grain

in one way, shape or form--

there is a lesson which needs acknowledgement

or greater attention.

Next month is the Portland Marathon.

A smidge of envy may fall upon me as I rise that morning

of 10/10/10,

but then I'll consider my current whereabouts,

and think of the steps that I've made toward my advocacy

and see that they are big steps--

steps that I wouldn't have made

had I been researching gels, sweat-wicking clothes and

speed strategies.

Then I'll consider the future,

and the reality that the Portland Marathon isn't going anywhere,

that it will return again in 2011,

and quite possibly,

I'll be able to give her a shot.

Until then,

the focus and the discipline is paying off--

in the most magnificent way.

"You Got a Dream... You Gotta Protect It. People Can't Do Somethin' Themselves, They Wanna Tell You You Can't Do It. If You Want Somethin', Go Get It." ~ Chris Gardner

(The Pursuit of Happiness)

a bold step in my journey

Tomorrow morning, I meet with a prior teacher of mine,
 who is now a local high school Principal.
On our agenda:

the issue of school bullying.

I haven't talked about it much, besides vague references here and there, and brief mention of it on my sidebar, so today, I'd like to share with you the details.
Currently, I am taking the appropriate steps to become an Olweus Bully Prevention Trainer.
My desire is to help schools reduce and overcome what school bullying has become today.

In the eighth grade, I was severely bullied.
It occurred regularly, with everything happening short of being punched in the face.
I think about the emotional abuse I endured, and have often wished I had been
physically beat up, rather than emotionally beat up. 
Unfortunately, there was no choosing in this matter.
My belongings were stolen, threats became the norm, my locker vandalized, the bathroom walls were scrawled with my name more than naught, my gym clothes covered in slurs.  
I was voted Valentine's Day princess at the school dance with a handicapped boy voted Prince, and my first crush only paid me attention over the telephone and off school grounds.
I took an F in PE because I was scared to be in the locker room,
and I was unsure of going places because I wasn't sure who I might run into.
I was taunted, belittled, and most of my friends dropped off the map, afraid to be bullied, too.
They eventually came back around after my older bullies left for high school, which left me both relieved and conflicted.

Before that year I was "normal,"
outgoing, the student body vice-president of my elementary school.
After that year, I was a shell, afraid, insecure, broken,
and later numb to everything that had ever worried me.

In the years following,
I managed to pick up the pieces and move along as one does in life.
But the brokenness never disappeared, and the scars remained in my mind and in my heart, affecting my relationships, my trust, and the love I was able to give and accept.  I was entirely different than I was before that year--expecting the hate, the abuse, the dislike, assuming my worth was somewhat disposable if they--whoever they were at the time, chose.  Unfortunately, the effects of this abuse didn't end with a school bell.
This way of thinking trapped me in and out of depression over the next ten years or so. 

It was during the time that I was pregnant with my daughter that I finally put my foot down.
I thought if I am going to bring new life into this world,
I have to bring her into what is
 right and true.
It was the mother's love that I felt for her even before she was born, that helped me see the way that my mother cared for me, and how she ached as I dealt with my brokenness. 
It was then that I realized I needed to be better for myself and for my daughter,
before I could teach her about
happiness--the fundamental of life.
But there is no happiness where there is no truth.

It is both amazing and troubling to realize how damaging words can truly be.
The school-age is an especially vulnerable age when small things are huge,
and when
what is petty to us adults has the chance of becoming magnified in young eyes.
They are years which are capable of inspiring or hindering souls.
In my case, those years placed rivets on my spirit,
and it took many more years to break free.

In the last four years or so, I can say that I have broken the surface and made significant progress in uncovering the issues of self-worth, and to a large extent, the self-hatred that I carried with me over ten years.
It has taken much faith, self-talk and the reminding of myself that I am not the things that I believed I was after that cruel year, but am and will be everything that I want to be.
I've had to remind myself that what was screamed were lies,
and of the truths that I know,
in effort to keep my experience in perspective.

Today, my perspective is that my experience
is part of a larger plan.
It is driving me into an advocacy for change
and to give help and hope.
I believe my greatest work lies in what was my greatest challenge.

When I was younger, school bullying was taboo;
teachers thought the best way was to let students work it out,
children were afraid to tell their parents with worry it would get worse.
Children are still afraid to talk.
However, we are learning this approach is not effective,
and not talking is driving some, who are hopeless, to the edge.

Tomorrow morning, I will share some of my story.
In the past, it has been only shared with those close to me.
Tomorrow, I will share in effort to help;
to help others understand, and
to help those whose lives have been
bound by rivets and lies,
and encourage them into living life in
truth and happiness.

weheartit