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Yesterday’s meditation focused on forgiveness. Now I have always prided myself on never holding a grudge and not focusing on the past. Because of this, I really thought this meditation was going to be a general, more abstract practice. However, upon opening myself up to the Archangel Jeremiel, the messenger who aids in healing through forgiveness, I made a startling discover: blocking out emotions and thoughts about certain events does not equate to forgiveness.

The first part of the exercise entailed forgiving myself. This honestly makes complete sense to me. I long ago learned the lesson that in order to love others, I must first love myself. It only makes sense that works for forgiveness as well.

The first item on the list of personal sins for which I had to forgive myself was my health, or as I actually view as my weaknesses. Because I am unable to do things like I once did (train for marathons and hike mountains), I often get angry at myself and fail to see the progress I have made in a year. A year ago, I went into Myasthenia gravis crisis. I was hospitalized for a month and was put on high doses of steroids. Steroids are a miracle for crises, but they also wreak havoc on your body. I had to relearn how to walk and even shower myself. Now I am able to do housework, and I am even back to doing gentle Pilates. I am working on building my endurance. Just last night, I was able to shower without the shower chair. I have learned during this process to acknowledge my progress and to be patient with myself.

The next event that came up during this meditation was quite painful. I had to forgive myself of the abortion I had when I was 21. This, I had always blamed on my husband at the time for forcing me to chose between him and the baby, but truth be told, it was due to my inability to set proper boundaries, to see myself as my own separate person from him, that I could stand on my own two feet and make my own decisions. It has taken me this long to realize my own power and strengths, and I often still struggle with the idea I am able to function without the aid of another.

Finally, I had to forgive myself of how I treated a friend long ago. Shortly after my ex moved out, my friend moved in to help me out. Well, it was a mutual aid because she needed a place as well. However, as soon as I met someone new who offered to take care of me, I turned my back on her. I did not handle the situation properly. I was very immature and selfish.

After the exercise of self-forgiveness, I moved on to the forgiveness of others. The first that popped up was the man I feel was my first love. He was quite a bit older than me as I was a minor still. Due to not having learned to set boundaries and not seeing myself as a person apart from a partner, I allowed him to take advantage of me. However, he was an adult and did have the mental capacity to realize he was doing wrong. I realize he also had a drug problem and was battling his own demons. Through this experience I was able to begin my lessons on setting boundaries. It was a lesson I would continue to work on for a while, but it was a start.

Secondly, I had to forgive my mother. I have always felt especially angry with her for abandoning me as a child, for not wanting me, for never trying to build a relationship with me, though she often doted on my siblings. They (her and my father) even fought over custody over my siblings. I was never included in that fight. This experience taught me resilience in any situation. It taught me that family is what you make of it. It also taught me to not judge someone on where they live or where they have come from. You never know the potential on has.

There is this place that I absolutely love. On the southern coast of California, close to Malibu, there is this huge rock, a big boulder, next to the road that runs along the beach. Behind this boulder sits four or five much smaller boulders. Each one has a flat top, perfect for someone to sit and even have a small picnic. These boulders rest overlooking a small cliff where the waves continuously crash against the foot.

On any given day, this spot could be crowded, or most likely not. One could sit there for hours and never be disturbed. One could sit there all day and do nothing but feel the sun on your skin, listen to the crash of the waves, and watch the sea gulls dip and dive for food.

It has been a few years since I lived on the west coast and was able to witness this wonderful place in person. However, for the longest time, whenever I have needed to imagine my happy place during stressful times or during meditations, this is where I would go. I could easily imagine the feel of the sun and hear the crash of the waves and immediately feel calm and content no matter the situation of my reality.

This morning, I felt a change. It wasn’t a sudden change. I feel it has been in the works for a while now, though I only fully realized it today.

I was sitting in a swing looking out into my backyard. I have these huge trees towering over the entire backyard. During the summer months, these trees provide excellent shade from the scorching sun. Currently, however, their naked branches allow the muted southern sun to peak through. Also, being in the south, we are able to hear birds of all kinds year-round. They call to each other, claiming various trees as home, or just saying hello.

She crouched, hidden in the jumbled thickets just outside her den, her eyes wary. She listened intently for any threat or unwanted quests. A break of twigs startled her to almost elicit a warning growl until she recognized the musky scent of her mate on the air.

Though her hackles were still raised, mostly through annoyance, she relaxed from her crouch. He was still a bit young and naïve, but held great promise. She often needed to correct his thoughtlessness, like the twig-breaking, but he guarded her well.

Though she had been reluctant to allow him to join her at first, he had worked hard to gain her favor. And in the short time they had been a pack he had grown stronger. Plus, he was incredibly loyal.

This pack thing was new to her. She could only vaguely remember a time living in her family’s pack while a pup. Even then, she struggled to follow what the other pack members did. She never quite fit in.

Her lineage was not the same as the other pups. Though they put up with her for a while, she was never really accepted. Eventually, she would leave to venture out on her own. Though it had been difficult out by herself, she felt better. And, though she was freer to be herself, she still felt like something was missing.

She would join other loners occasionally, jut to make catching prey a little easier. However, those pairings never lasted. She would always find herself abandoned by the others.

Then she came across this rather larger pack. Her first instinct was to bolt. They were not at all like the other packs she had come across. They were kind to her, almost accepting. Almost. They allowed her to follow on the edge of their territory and even allowed her to join in on the larger prey takedowns.

One evening, she realized she had caught the attention of one of the younger adult males. She was not at all sure of this outcome, so she decided to put some distance between herself and the larger pack. Though he seemed the more naïve of the bunch, he was ready to set out on his own. The older wolves watched as he followed her out of the territory, seeming to accept the younger’s decision.

The long she-wolf was not sure of his intentions to stay, so at first, she would not let him approach too closely. He kept his distance for the most part, only coming in close when she hunted. He would assist in the hunt, but always let her eat first. She felt this was something new, as all the others would always get their fill first before allowing her to eat. It had been a long road, but he eventually proved he was going nowhere. And his hunting skills certainly helped out.

As she looked back at her mate in the underbrush close to their den, he signaled they had not been followed. She ventured out of the shelter and entered the den.

She was instantly bombarded by two playing, jumping, hungry pups. She dropped their latest kill and contentedly watch them eat. As the pups finished their meal, they sleepily wandered over to curl up next to her. They were quick to fall asleep.

Tonight’s meditation was a journey to my Akashic records. My intention was to see what I needed to do to ensure I am fulfilling my life’s purpose.

By the way, this was a guided meditation. Though I was following my guide, I felt she was only a messenger, as I knew where we were going before she mentioned it.

I found myself climbing a staircase. At the top of that staircase was the most beautiful, elegant library. (Bella would have been envious!) I immediately felt at home here. There were so many rows of shelves going as far as the eye can see, filled with the most beautiful books, all unique, but exquisite in every detail.

Though my curiosity really wanted me to look at them all, I knew I was destined to find one shelf in particular. It pulled me like a magnet, though I put up no resistance.

As I ran my fingers along the spine of each book, I found the one that would aid me in my intention. I felt the heated energy pull my attention. I carefully pulled it from the shelf and reverently folded it into my arms.

I looked to my left to find a single table with two chairs on each side. It was a dark oak wood. The chairs had the most comfortable cushions. This is the moment my guide said, “This is where I leave you now. I will return when you have your answer.”

As I sat in the chair facing my shelf, I lovingly placed the book on the table in front of me. On its own, it opened for me. As it opened, it became this frame around a scene that seemed to envelope me. The next I knew:

I was floating in this pool. I could feel the cool water and the sun radiating its warmth on my skin. I heard the most melodic laugh to my left. When I looked to the sound, I found the most gorgeous man I have never seen in person. He had the blackest hair and beautiful sun-kissed skin. His smile shown brighter than the sun. He was wearing glasses without the lenses. He reached his hand to me.

When I asked him why he was there, he responded, “I am a vessel to help you answer your question.”

“What was my question?”

“Good question.”

After thinking a minute, I remembered. “Oh, that’s right! What do I do to follow my purpose, to fulfill my life’s purpose?”

“What is your purpose?” He asked with a sweet smile as he wiggled his glasses up and down.

He then asked the most important questions. “What makes you feel the most fulfilled? What makes you happiest? What do you want?”

Then I felt this overwhelming passion to tell him everything: Everything I had been wanting to scream from the top of the mountains to the deepest valleys.

“I want to make the world a better place, to open people’s minds to the beauty of the world. I want to make people feel happy, to make them feel loved. I want people to feel safe and to achieve their dreams. I love to make people smile.”

When I finished that last line, his own smile grew. “And how are you going to do that?”

I then envisioned my writing, but then I paused. Most of what I had written about had been about my past or troubles or what not.

Then, out of seemingly nowhere, I saw a floating leaf. I caught it in my fingers. I noticed its beauty. Then I knew what I wanted to write about instead! I want to write about the little things that make people smile, the background noises that bring people calm and comfort.

I returned my gaze to the man in front of me. His smile gave me a feeling of pride. He said, “I knew you had the answer.”

I returned his smile, “Thank you.”

He bowed his head, accepting my gratitude.

I was then back in the library, back in the most comfortable elegant chair at the single dark oak table facing my shelf of Akashic records. My book had closed of its own accord.

I placed my hands over my heart in gratitude. I gently gathered the book in my arms and rose from my chair. I pushed my chair in. As I started to walk back to the shelf, I heard my guide say, “I have returned to see you out.”

My son is turning 16 this year. As with many parents, this is a year of excitement, but also dread. Thinking of my son on the road is something I have put off for, well, all his life. I consider his lack of attention to my directions, the way he bumps into people and runs over feet with a grocery cart, and shudder to think how this will transfer to his driving a car. Not to mention other people on the road…

He doesn’t really have a great family history of drivers either. I remember my years of teaching myself to drive through trial and error. From the age of 17 to 22, I had a total of 6 accidents, not including a little fender bender in a parking lot that both parties agreed to forget about. So, as you can expect, I really have not looked forward to this time in his life. But then, I remember one very important moment in my life that actually changes my feelings on this situation.

I earned my driver’s permit at the usual age of 15, but I did not get my driver’s license until I was 17. My father leased a little Saturn coup, hunter green, for me to drive. I worked at a big chain retailer as a cashier to pay the car payment and insurance. It took nearly my entire paycheck. I had just enough to pay my dad $100 rent, my phone bill, and occasionally some clothes for school.

Prior to getting my license, my uncle would bring the car to pick me up from work and let me drive home. He was quite brave to do this, particularly since he had just gotten out of the hospital with a heart attack.

One Saturday afternoon, he came to pick me up from work. I pulled out of the parking lot to stop at the intersection. Now, to better understand these events, I need to help you picture the layout. This retailer was on the main highway in my town, but you could pull out the side of the parking lot to get to a traffic light in order to get on to the highway. The intersection was like a “T”, in that you could only turn left or right. Now that we have an understanding of the layout, I will get back to the chain of events.

I pull up to the traffic light. I was first in line, but traffic quickly lined up behind me. As I said, this was a Saturday afternoon, a busy shopping day.

As the light signaled for me to go, I put my foot, rather heavier than I intended, on the gas. I quickly realized my mistake as I was fast approaching the utility pole in front of me. I picked up my foot, intending to step on the break, only to slam my foot down on the gas again.

In this moment, my life did NOT flash before my eyes. Instead, everything around me seemed to slow down and come into focus more clearly than ever. I looked into the rearview mirror and saw the cars around me. Their reactions were to slow down, many aiming as if to get out of my way, assuming, I presume, I was headed for that utility pole and possibly going to ricochet back into them. I also saw my uncle beside me, face white, and arms stretched out toward the dashboard. My response to all these events were to take my hands off the wheel, thinking I had already done enough damage.

Then, the most memorable moment of my life happened.

I immediately felt this sense of calm come over me. I saw this… this… I don’t even know how to describe it other than to say it was white; but white doesn’t even quite explain the presence I saw. This presence shifted in front of me, though I could still see everything around me. It took the wheel and turned it. I watched as the wheel turned and the car turned left and perfectly glided into the proper lane. I have never driven that straight in my life to this day!!

Then the presence dissolved, and I returned my hands to the wheel. I had this unnatural calm that I felt like in my mind I should be panicking but I felt that I had no reason to panic because I had been taken care of. During this time, my uncle began to express his fear by reminding me he had just gotten out of the hospital. “DO YOU WANT TO GIVE ME ANOTHER HEART ATTACK?!”

I realized then he had not seen what I had or he would not have been so worried. I could not even react to his question. I was still looking around trying to understand how we had gotten out of that situation.

I have often been asked in my life how I can be so sure there is something bigger than us, whether it be God, Allah, or whatever. There have been many instances in my life, both before this event and since, where I have felt protected. This particular instance, I saw with my own eyes. I still can not tell what it was, but it is enough to know that there is something.

TW: domestic violence

I was born on March 23, 30-something years ago (a woman never tells her age, right?). My mother had just turned 16, and my father was 23. They weren't married yet, but would be a month later. I would find out later that was because my father wasn't entirely sure I was his and wanted to make sure I was at least "the right color".

You see, I was told that my mother already had one child that was around two by the time I was born. His father was black. My father said he didn't want to get stuck with a kid that wasn't his. Shortly, after I was born and they got married, my brother would be put up for adoption. Often times later, I felt he got the better end of the deal.  

A few days after I was born, my parents dropped me off at my great-aunt and uncle's house. They wanted to go to Kentucky with my father's mother to the horse races. I've been told they would return to get me for a few days here and a few days there, but for the most part, and particularly after one fateful incident, I stayed with my aunt and uncle for most of my life.

This was my mother's mother's twin sister. She was never able to her own children, but always somehow wound up raising everyone else's children. She had raised my mother and her siblings for awhile when they were younger as well.

Apparently, a few months after I was born, my mother and father moved into a trailer a block or two away from my aunt and uncle. One evening while I was with my parents, the power had gone out all of a sudden. My parents were convinced someone had cut their power lines on purpose so they went rushing to my aunt and uncle's house. When they arrived, my aunt and uncle asked where I was. They had forgotten me. They both refused to go back because they were too afraid someone was there. My aunt went and picked me up. She said, "You was just sittin' in the baby swing, just a singin'. I brought you home, laid you on the couch, and that's where you stayed."

When I was old enough for school, I went back to live with my mother and father, who now had two girls, 3 and 1. I did well in school as I was already able to read. Every Friday after school, I would call my uncle at work to come pick me up so I could go home to them. I would be returned after church on Sundays so that I was ready for school the next day.

My mother and father were still quite immature then. They would often go off at night and leave me in charge of watching my sisters. I was five when my sisters were 3 and 1. I remember once the neighbors reported them because we were outside playing while they were gone. My mother and father punished me for being outside and told us to always stay inside, lock the doors, and never answer the phone when they were out.

My parents always had a turbulent relationship as well. They fought with each other often. I remember one time when they were fighting, and my mother was threatening to leave. She and I were in the kitchen cleaning up, while my father was in their bedroom with my two sisters playing on the bed. He was bouncing them, and they really seemed to be having a lot of fun. I kept hearing them all laugh and wanted to play with them. My mother told me that if I went in to play with them, she would leave us all. So for awhile, I resisted going in. But, after awhile, the laughs were too irresistible. I remember standing in the door looking in. My father looked over at me and said, "Come on! Come play."

I told him I couldn't because if I did, Momma would leave. He said, "Aww no she won't leave. Come on."

I finally could not resist.

The next thing I remember while being bounced on the bed, my mother coming to the door, looking me in the eye, and saying, "Okay, I'm leaving."

The next day, I remember being held back by my father's sister, crying and telling my mother that I was sorry for playing. She was crying but turned to walk out the door.

She would return later at some point. I don't really remember the time frame. We had moved to another house in a different part of the city. I had a brother about this time. We were six years apart. I remember changing his diapers, feeding him, and giving him his bottle. I used milk out of the fridge. I didn't know anything about formula. I remember taking pride when people would ask if I was his mother. Again, I was only six and seven.

This was around second grade. I remember one time in class, we were talking about hygiene. Our teacher asked us all if we were brushing our teeth twice a day. I told her we didn't have toothbrushes. Shortly, after this, I remember we had bulk packs of tooth paste and tooth brushes left at our house. It would take me years to connect those dots. I brushed my teeth religiously though.

One of the weekends after church, or maybe it was during the summer, because I remember it was night time. I remember sitting in the back seat of my aunt and uncle's little brown car. I leaned up and told them, " I don't want anything bad to happen to Momma and Daddy, but I wish I could live with you." My aunt sighed and said, " Well, maybe if you pray for it."

Shortly after that, my mother left for good. It was a difficult time period. My mother had left my dad, but was working and living somewhere in town. At this point, my dad worked for my grandmother, who owned one of the taxi companies in town. My dad had found out my mother was working at one of the competing taxi companies.

My dad had me call her one morning to ask for a ride to school. She said she would come. As soon as I got off the phone, I started to get my sister and I ready for school, but my dad said to stop getting ready, that I would get in trouble if I was ready when she got there. I was immediately nervous.

When she go there, she looked surprised to see me not dressed. She told me to hurry and go get dressed. I just looked at her so scared that she had actually come. My dad came rushing in the room and slammed her against the door. He told her to get out of the house. I would blame myself for calling her there for years.

I remember once shortly after she left, school had just gotten out. All of us kids were playing in the front yard. My dad sat in a chair in the front doorway watching us. The power had been turned off for a few days. I saw my dad crying. I wanted to help him so bad but didn't know how.

It all started when I was three, maybe four years old, but it continued well into my teen years. Sitting on my great-aunt and uncle’s bed, listening to him play his guitar for as long as he would let me.

My uncle was my favorite person in the world. He was about 5’4”-5’5” with red hair, a big round belly, and nearly always had a smile on his face. My aunt told me he played in a band when he was younger, but that was before he started working at the plant working 12 hour-shifts 3 days on, 3 days off. He would still make time to play and sing for me.

It would start with us all finishing up dinner, most of us watching TV and after he took a bath. He would come out of the bathroom and start clipping his nails. As soon as he started that, I would run to his room to get comfortable on the bed. He would come in and get his guitar out of his closet and start tuning. At times, he would record himself on cassettes and would let me sing along with him.

This would continue even after my siblings came to live with us, too. My siblings would follow me and do what I did, but they would quickly grow tired of just sitting there and start horse-playing. That would signal to him to put his guitar away and I would secretly resent my siblings a bit.

As I have mentioned before, I have Myasthenia gravis. I am what is known as Seronegative. I’ll explain all that in a bit; but, first, I just want to note that I am in no way an expert on this disorder. I can not even say I am an expert in my own body’s representation of this disorder. I am constantly learning how to deal and handle the symptoms, as well as the treatments. And, just FYI, no two MGers are the same. We all present differently, some of us even more so. 

According to the National Institute of Neurological Disorders and Stroke –

1Myasthenia gravis is a chronic autoimmune, neuromuscular disease that causes weakness in the skeletal muscles that worsens after periods of activity and improves after periods of rest. These muscles are responsible for functions involving breathing and moving parts of the body, including the arms and legs.

The name myasthenia gravis, which is Latin and Greek in origin, means “grave, or serious, muscle weakness.” There is no known cure, but with current therapies, most cases of myasthenia gravis are not as “grave” as the name implies. Available treatments can control symptoms and often allow people to have a relatively high quality of life. Most individuals with the condition have a normal life expectancy.

All that sounds incredibly complicated. Basically, as most of us who have MG have learned to explain that its very similar to Multiple Sclerosis (MS), except where your body is attacking the nerves in MS, our bodies attack the muscles. It’s a bit more complicated, but that’s the easiest way to explain it to where people understand it.

Some have *only* ocular MG, where it only affects those muscles around the eyes. I say *only* not to diminish its effects, but as a comparison to the generalized MG where your entire body is affected. Either way, its usually diagnosed by blood tests that are used to detect certain autoantibodies. I say usually. In an already rare disorder (fewer than 200K US cases/year according to the Mayo Clinic), a special few have no *known* antibodies detected. These cases make diagnosis and treatment a bit more difficult to attain. We lucky few are known as Seronegative.

To put that in perspective, one of my treating neurologists who had treated MG patients for over 40 years has only had two seronegative patients. That two includes me...

It all started about 5-6 years ago. I was living in beautiful Southern California. I was incredibly active (this was during the whole p90 craze). I was actually training for a 39.3 mile walk for charity in addition to my normal training. After some of my more intense training sessions, I noticed I would start to have trouble catching my breath, though I was getting plenty of oxygen, and I would just be incredibly tired, and not just the normal after-workout tired.

When I spoke to my family practice doctor, he suggested I had exercise-induced asthma. It sounded plausible, and it did not mean I had to stop my activity, just maybe relax on the high-intensity stuff. The albuterol treatment never seemed to work, but if it got bad enough, a course of prednisone steroids often helped. Something I would remember later.

Another thing I noticed around this time was that my right eyelid was starting to droop a little. And here’s where I am always reluctant to dive in because I have always felt a little vain, but I feel I must get over that. To be honest, my eyes have always been an attribute I have been quite proud of, particularly after my children were born. People would always say they had my eyes, and follow that up with saying they had the most beautiful eyes. So when people started saying I looked tired, or ask if something was bothering me because I was smiling like I used to, I started to worry a little bit.

What did I do at this point, you ask? You assume I went to the doctor, right? You see, that would have been the smart way to handle this. Nope! Instead, I did what I am sure every doctor hates. I googled “droopy eyelid”. What I read told me that insurances tend to think of it as cosmetic (I read vanity) and will not pay for repairs unless your lid droops enough to obstruct vision. So I thought, okay, I just need to stop being so “vain” (there’s that word again) and just deal with it.

Fast forward to Fall of 2017, we are now living in a small town in Florida. I am on my way to volunteer at our church one morning, driving into the sun, when my eye completely closes on its own and refuses to open back up. Now, luckily I was just around the corner, so it didn’t cause an issue driving. I actually did not panic. I have to be honest. I felt a little bit relieved. Inside, I was thinking, “Well, at least now I can get my eye fixed.”

My next step was going to see an ophthalmologist. I had recently attended a women’s health conference and remembered one of the presenting opththalmologists. He was really funny, and he had kind of reminded me of Seth Green a little. I had the hugest crush on Seth Green back in the Buffy the Vampire days, so that was apparently enough to spark confidence in this doctor. (My husband thought this was hilarious, but was willing to go along with it.)

In that appointment, the doctor, after doing his examinations, said he would be happy to help me fix my eyelid problem, but he wanted me to have some tests run first, just to rule out Myasthenia gravis.

I am sure my reaction was comical. At the time, I had never heard of such a thing, and remember feeling dumb with my immediate response, “Ummm, what is that?”

He actually reassured me so that I didn’t feel so dumb, but emphasized it was important that I get tested because, untreated, it could be life-threatening. At that point, I remember asking, hoping he would again help me not to feel so dumb, “So, I guess I should not have waited two years, huh?”

This time, he did not make me feel any better. “Yeah, probably.”

So off I went to get tested.... I recall all that new adventure in the next post.

1"Myasthenia Gravis Fact Sheet", NINDS, Publication date March 2020.

My name is Piper Cheris. Welcome to my blog! For the longest time, I have had people tell me, "Oh, you should write that down!" or "I'd read a book about your life..." or "You really need to write..." So I finally took the not so subtle hints, and I decided to take the plunge into the world of blogging...

Let's start off with a little background info: I am a 30-something millennial, or, as one of my favorite comedians Iliza Shlesinger calls it, an elder millennial. I am a wife and mother of two (teenage boy and preteen girl). I love nature, travel, reading and music. And yes, I am happily enjoying the kpop bandwagon! Proud Monbebe-Carat here! Fangirl with me, why don't you?

I have a degree in Psychology with which I hope to do something at some point. I am one of those weird people who love learning, especially about other cultures. I love to talk with people from all different places and backgrounds to learn their stories, what makes them tick.

A few years ago, I was diagnosed with a rare autoimmune disorder called Myasthenia Gravis (MG for short, because, honestly, who doesn't get tired from saying that name over and over again?!), and even within that community I have a rare presentation in that I am Seronegative. So all those years of wishing for a unicorn really paid off....  That's been a real walk in the park, let me tell you. I will cover what all that means in other posts.