In the days following family and friends gathered around me and tried their best to make sense out of the situation. Aloucious’ God Mother Lisa told me “You will always be a Mother. God saw that you were special so he made you a Mama to a baby in heaven, you are a Mom, and no one can ever tak that away from you.” Those words brought me comfort and got me through the darkest days I know that I will see my son one day.

There are days where I let my mind wander to the land of “what if” and I wonder what he would be like today. Would he be a wild child like his Mama or be a nerd like his Dad. Would he dare to jump without fear or sit quietly on the sidelines and watch the world go by. I wonder what Aloucious would look like, would he have blue eyes and curly hair or would he look more like Scott.

People often ask where the name Aloucious Gregory came from. Scott picked his first name, the name Aloucious comes from the book Colors of Chaos. Aloucious was the main character Nylan’s sidekick and they build a civilization out of ruin. On the pages they conquered evil and fought for a better world. Scott’s first son is named Nylan, so in his mind it was only fitting to name his second son Aloucious. Gregory is my Father’s name, I chose it because I wanted my son to have the strength of my Father. I wanted him to know that the blood of warriors ran through his veins and that he was destined for greatness. We referred to our son as little bear and his nickname was to be Lucia. I had no doubt that my child was going to change the world, I was the proudest and happiest pregnant woman on the planet.

Little did I know that Aloucious would change my world in more ways than one. Aloucious gave me the strength I needed to take back my own dreams and the strength I needed to walk out of a loveless marriage. He is the reason I fight so hard for those around me and to bring a little justice to those covered in darkness. I would like to believe that Aloucious is looking down on this earth and saying to his friends “Hey look right there, that woman with the passionate heart, that’s my Mom!”

I want Aloucious to know that he was wanted and he was sent off to heaven with more love than one soul could ever hold. Aloucious will never be forgotten. I have a tattoo on the top of my right foot. It is four tiny bear prints, it is a reminder that my son is in heaven and that no matter where I go he will always be with me. My son is most likely the only child I will ever carry and that is all right by me. When the time is right I am certain God will send another child my way, until that comes I am going to live life with passion and be the most incredible Aunt Sophia could ever have. One day when she is older I will sit under the birch tree and tell her about her cousin in heaven.

If you are like me and you no longer have your child in this world, then my heart goes out to you. For we are and we will aways be Mothers to children in heaven. Our hearts are heavy, yet we love fiercely and handle this card with grace, for we know that one day we will see our children again.

Experts urge potential victims to heed the signs of danger. She says the following behaviors in a significant other could suggest he’s capable of domestic violence and even homicide: if he’s ever threatened to kill his partner; if he has ever used a weapon in an assault — or displayed it as a threat; if he has attempted to strangle his partner; if he acts obsessively jealous; or if he’s forced sex on his partner. I thought to myself “really, those are the warning signs?” Seems simple, a woman just needs to steer clear of a gun touting man with a record of past violence. That’s pretty easy.

Then again nothing is easy in this life. Most individuals who are charged with domestic violence do not have a criminal past nor have they ever been perceived as violent. Manipulation is key, more so a good manipulator is the key. The abuser may use coercion, intimidation, emotional abuse, threats, isolation, economic abuse, and /or the children to control his or her partner. He also minimizes, denies and blames her for his behavior. The core issue for the abuser is to be in control of the relationship in order to have his or her needs met. If the aforementioned tactics don’t work, then the abuser enforces his threats with physical and/or sexual violence.

When I was in college I volunteered at a domestic violence shelter in the Twin Ports area and what I learned there will always stick with me. One evening a woman walked into the shelter, at first I thought she was a new volunteer, however she looked down and whispered “I need help.” This woman was wearing designer, her hair and makeup were well-kept, so I looked at her puzzled and asked what her name was. I went through the check list and when it came to “has your partner ever hit you” she broke down in tears and removed her sweater. I’ll never forget that moment for as long as I live. She looked at me and said ” he’s careful, he only beats me in spots that can be covered up by clothing. Her back, stomach arms and upper legs looked like a war zone. Through our conversation I learned that her husband was a prominent business man in the community and a known family man. Behind the mansion door the pillar had fallen and attacked his wife each night. I asked her if she wanted to go to the police, she said “no, no one can know about this.” I asked her how we could help her and what she needed in order to leave. She said she didn’t know, I gave her a brochure and never saw her again. Still to this day I think about her and wonder if she ever found the strength to fight for herself and leave.

That’s the thing with domestic violence, it goes unreported. The bruises fade, the words are hushed and the cycle continues. Women and men stay in horrible relationships out of fear. No one goes into a relationship thinking “yup, this guy/lady is going to physically and mentally abuse me.” No one does, people change and somehow a loving individual turns into an abusive controlling monster. A monster than cannot by tamed and one whose crimes go unreported. The only time we think about domestic violence is when we see murder in the headline. Otherwise as a society we turn the other cheek and think “hmm her makeup is a little thick today.” Then again emotional and mental abuse is silent, as it does not leave any scars behind. Bruises fad, however derogatory statements stay with a woman for a life time, her heart is forever hindered, and she feels less than human. At the end of the day she can still hear his voice whisper in her ear “you are not good enough, or pretty enough, you are nothing but trash.” His voice haunts her dreams and the tears they silently stream onto her pillow until she has the strength to push him out of her head.

According to the Domestic Abuse Project many women stay in the abusive relationship because: Some women are taught that it is their job to maintain the relationship and support their partners, so they may feel guilty about leaving or feel they have “failed.” In addition our culture sends the message that a woman’s value depends on her being in a relationship. Women without partners tend to be devalued. That woman stay because they are afraid of being disgraced by their communities and of bringing shame to their families. Abused women are silenced by fear and crippled by shame. They do not have the strength to seek help or to leave on their own.

We as a community can change the misconceptions and assist our sisters out of hiding and into the arms of caring strangers. Be that ear and if something doesn’t feel right ask her how she is doing. Sometimes all a woman needs is a tiny little push and you have the power to be that push. Leaving any relationship is hard and you cannot force a woman to leave, she will leave when she is ready. I know this first hand and I can honestly tell you that leaving is the hardest step in the journey.

My marriage was far from perfect, my ex husband seemed like a winner, but really he was more like fifth place. After our wedding things drastically changed. I was no longer good enough for him and I no longer satisfied him. He cheated. According to Scott it was my fault and I made him do it. Scott talked me into what was his version of an “open marriage.” He said “well this way it’s not like I am cheating on you, if you love me you will let me do this.” Scott spent a majority of his time on Craigslist and whatever sex sites he could looking for women. If he was awake he was online looking for women, he was consumed by it, and it was all he cared about. He would tell me “if you lose 30 pounds I will stop sleeping around, if you did that I’d be attracted to you.” He told me “if you don’t accept the fact that I need other women, then you don’t really love me, you don’t understand me.”

I was always the problem in our marriage and I was the reason he cheated. Scott would yell at me if I didn’t drop what I was doing and come running like a dog to the door when he came home from work. I did my best to keep our home to his standards and tip toed around his behavior. Scott was out whoring around while I sat home in tears wondering why I wasn’t good enough for him. Each day I walked on egg shells, if I didn’t greet him with the correct tone he’d yell at me. Heaven forbid if I eat something in front of him because he would often say “really, do you think you need that.” Scott never hit me, yet his insults cut like a knife and I cried in the shower at night.

During my marriage Scott never wanted to spend time with me and when we went out he always walked in front, never beside me. I was never a priority in his life and it became clear as I watched the clock tick in the ER on that fateful October day. The ER staff called him over 4 times and he never picked up the phone. He was sleeping, I watched the clock tick and I knew at 10:30 his brother would be over to walk the dogs, 10:30am turned into 11:00am, he had missed most of the ordeal. By 11:30am Scott finally picked up the phone, the staff tried to explain, he asked “oh, do I really need to be there?” WTF? What husband on this planet would question whether or not to rush to his wife’s side, mine would. That was a big red flag right there. Durring my stay at Woodwinds my ex husband was more concerned about the bill than my health. I looked over in my haze and noticed he was on the laptop trolling for women. There I was fighting for my life and all he could think about was finding his next whore. To be honest my PE and Stroke did nothing to change our marriage.

In the spring we found out that I was pregnant. The mental abuse got worse, I was apparently getting to big to quickly for his tastes. Scott told me “if you don’t lose the weight after the baby, well I am going to ask for a divorce, because I won’t be attracted to you.” Day in and day out I heard those words “you are fat, you are not pretty, you do not understand me and you don’t love me.” He would criticize everything I did and even with a child on the way he still felt the need to sleep around. We lost the baby.

Scott was in Las Vegas on the day I found out our son no longer had a heart beat. I asked him to come home, he said “no, I can’t a plane ticket would cost too much.” Friends filled Scott’s shoes, my Dad came and sat with me, Lisa made sure I was hanging in there and Sherri stood by me as I waited to go into surgery. My ex husband did nothing to get me through the darkest moment of my life. He came home from Las Vegas and expected me to be full of sunshine and rainbows. Scott told me he was going to stop with the women and focus on our broken marriage, that break lasted for two weeks.

On June 27, 2010 I sent a text to my friend Sherri and left. Scott tried to take my phone away, he shut off my credit cards, and begged me to come home. There was no going back, I had crossed the line, I took the hardest step and walked out of my mentally and emotionally abusive marriage. I had no idea what the future was going to hold, I just knew it had to be better and that I was never going to let a man control me again. Therapy helped me realize that I did nothing wrong and no matter what I did Scott would never love me. I learned to find my way, to stand on my own, and slowly I began to find the old AmandaJean.

Three years later I look back on my relationship with Scott, the warning signs were written on the walls, I failed to read them and in the end headed towards disaster. I know that somewhere inside that twisted head of his, lies the man I fell in love with. We had our moments in the sun, yet often found ourselves stuck in the storm. It took a while for Scott’s voice to finally leave my head and now I only look back on the good times. I am aware of what flags to look for and often run away from men (literally I run away) who have the same personality traits as Scott. I will give him one thing, he is one heck of a salesmen and he had everyone believing that our marriage was perfect.

If you or someone you love is currently in a physically or mentally abusive relationship get help:
DAP First Call: 612.874.7063 | 10AM-4PM Monday-Friday
Shelter: For shelter in the state of Minnesota and 24-hour crisis assistance. Day One® Minnesota Domestic Violence Crisis Line 1.866.223.1111
Advocacy: Contact DAP Advocacy at 612.673.3526 if you:
•need an Order for Protection
•have questions about the legal system and victim’s rights
•need assistance with lock changes, food, shelter, clothing and other basic needs
Sign Up For a Therapy Group:
Contact DAP’s First Call desk at 612.874.7063 to learn about and/or register for therapy classes for:
•women who have been victimized by a domestic partner
•men who use abuse in their intimate relationships
•children who have witnessed domestic violence
•adolescents who are using abuse in their dating relationships
For more information on what you can do to assist someone in need please visit: http://www.domesticabuseproject.com/

Heart disease and stroke survivors, researchers, and healthcare professionals from around the country met with their congressional representatives and asked them to allocate $32 billion for the NIH for 2014, to restore funding cut by the sequester and get NIH back on track.

The association volunteers also joined forces with representatives from more than 200 other non-profit organizations in a “Rally for Medical Research” on April 8, where they called on Congress to make research funding a national priority.

The March 1 sequester slashed nearly $1.5 billion, or 5 percent, of the NIH budget. A cut of this magnitude will reduce the number of planned research grants by about 2,300, cost more than 20,000 jobs nationwide and shrink new economic activity by nearly $3 billion. A typical NIH grant supports about seven full-time or part-time jobs, most of them high-tech. Every dollar that the NIH distributes through grants returns more than $2 in goods and services annually to a local community.

“If the NIH cuts remain in place, they will damage our fragile economy and threaten our nation’s position as the global leader in medical research,” said American Heart Association President Donna Arnett, Ph.D., MSPH. “More importantly, medical research is vital to discovering new treatments and even cures for generations to come. We must not give up the fight to increase federal support for the NIH.”

Advocates also asked Congress to fund a $35 million Million Hearts Initiative to tackle one of the nation’s most significant public health problems, high blood pressure. More than one in three adults in the United States have high blood pressure, but less than half have their condition under control. High blood pressure is one of the leading risk factors for heart attack or stroke.

MN Delegation: (from left to right) Mark Olson, Vicki Rivkin, Robert “Bobby Z” Rivkin, Dr. John Wheeler, AmandaJean B.

Nothing that is until a dark-haired brown-eyed boy walked across the parking lot of my dorm and swept me off my feet. In him I found comfort like I had never felt before. I would do anything for him and his son. We date long distance, he didn’t come to my graduation nor did he seem to care that I got my degree. I talked about going away for law school. He told me “I won’t wait for you to finish.” With those words spoken, I put hat dream a side and moved in, by Thanks Giving we were engaged. He told me “when one dream ends, another begins.” Over the next 3 years that became my motto. I set out on creating a new plan, a plan that never quieted my desire for more. I loved Nylan with all of my heart, being a mom was one of my greatest joys, I gave everything I had to my husband, and kept our home polished. Yet, something was missing, it never felt right, and I wanted something more. Durring my marriage I never put myself first. My dreams and desires were not worth keeping, they sank slowly to the bottom as my husband whispered “this is your dream now.”

At 26 I became a survivor and little by little I started putting myself first. I was determined and created a new plan. A plan that would never ring true. I found out I was pregnant in the spring of 2010, I was filled with joy and began to plan for this new life. I spent hours debating paint colors and nursery themes. I read pregnancy books and looked into pregnancy yoga. I was happy. Happy because 6 months earlier I was on the brink of death and here I was six months later carrying a baby. This was my calm after the storm. It was decided that I would have a c-section and that I would take blood thinners during the pregnancy. I didn’t have a say in this and I wasn’t looking forward to twice daily injections for 9 months. However I knew that in the end the reward would be worth it. All of my planning went out the window the day I found out my son no longer had a heart beat. I was devastated and overwhelmed. This was never part of the plan. At that point in my life I knew something had to change. I had to find my way and figure out who I was. I only knew AmandaJean the college student and AmanadaJean the wife. I no longer knew who I was or what I wanted. The death of my son was the turning point in my beautifully broken plan.

Divorce, I never planned on it, yet it became a part of my history. I realize now that my PE and the death of my son were to prepare me for the hardest journey I’d ever take, the journey to find myself. The day I left my ex husband was the day I decided to live an uncharted life. I was terrified of failing, mostly I was terrified that I wouldn’t find myself. Terrified of falling down and that when I did no one would be there to help me up. I trip a lot and lord knows I’ve had my share of face plants. Since my divorce I have fallen more times that I can count. The City of Minneapolis is littered with potholes.

In January I unexpectedly found myself unemployed and without a plan. I was terrified I had never been unemployed in my life and I felt like a failure. I started to question my skills. Tears were heard in my voice and friends, they rushed to my side. Attorneys I had worked for in the past reminded me of how my work helped them and why I love my line of work. Lucky for me I was not unemployed for long. Within a week I was hired on as a temporary editor at a publishing company in the cities. That job ended in early April and I am not worried.

A few years ago I would have been a tearful puddle on my couch and desperately grabbing at tiny shreds of a plan. That was then and this is now, now I find joy in living an uncharted life. I can take this time to find the job I really want and take some time to just be me. Nothing in this life is set in stone. Each day we are above ground is a mystery and filled with wonderous exceptions. I’ve learned that a life lived on a vision board, is not a life lived at all. I have come to believe that fate loves to mess with a perfect plan. Maybe its fates way of giving us a slap in the face and saying “hey, while your planning you are missing out on the good stuff. You my dear are missing out on your own life. So stop the planning, throw the vision board out and just go with the flow and expect a few pot holes along the way.” That is exactly what I am doing. I am finding comfort in the beauty and meaning in the potholes.

Enter the bathroom, I like every other woman on this planet have a cabinet full of lotions, potions, and serums that I use to improve the look of my skin. I like you can barely pronounce the ingredient list on the back of the bottles. Lush is one of my favorite stores and their natural bath products smell amazing. Now I can pronounce every ingredient that’s in a Lush product and know that it is free of chemicals. So I thought to myself……..”could I make my own body scrub?”

Google told me that it was possible, the recipes for homemade body scrubs were endless. I wanted it to be simple, something that I could throw together in under ten minutes. I don’t do complicated and I wanted a scrub that was budget friendly. After doing a little research, trial and error I came up with my own scrub.

I call it: Put a Lime in the Coconut Body Scrub

You will need four simple ingredients: Sugar, Salt, Coconut Oil, and the zest of 1 Lime.

Melt 1/4 cup of coconut oil in the microwave for about 1 minute.

Add 1/2 cup sugar to the melted coconut oil.

Add 1/2 cup salt to the sugar and coconut oil.

Add the zest of 1 lime to the salt, sugar, and coconut oil.

Stir the lime zest, salt, sugar, and coconut oil together.

Spoon the mixture into a jar, seal with an airtight lid, then store it in a cool dry place.

The sugar and salt smooth your rough spots, while the coconut oil hydrates your skin. I use the scrub about twice a week and it keeps my skin super soft. Plus the hit of lime will chase away the winter blues.

A cemetery may creep you out, however I find it peaceful and I can honestly spend hours strolling through the stones. It’s a way to learn about the cities past and how people memorialize their loved ones. One can find simple stones mixed in with the ornate mausoleums along side famous and not so famous citizens of years past. When I am not poking around in the cemetery you can find me and the muppet like dog walking around Calhoun.

The lakes are truly a treasure and one can spend an entire day dodging the suburbanite. Summer brings the suburbanite into the city. They like to feel as if they are hip and trendy. They are far from hip, they stick out like a sore thumb, and the hipsters give them the square eye. Calhoun is lined with many swim beaches and it is a sailing lake. Its fun to go down on a week day afternoon and nestle in with a good book on the beach. During the week the beaches are not as crowded and you can take in the suns rays while watching a sail boat lazily drift by.

Now I love my neighborhood I have two really cute cafes right around the corner from my apartment, a coffee shop and a pizza joint are also just a short walk away. Everyone is friendly, parking is not a problem,and the crime is practically non-existent. Best of all its quiet, you simply forget you live in Minneapolis because our little part of uptown is tucked away from the hustle and bustle of Calhoun Square.

In uptown the apartments are small and you will usually get a trendy pink tiled bathroom, a remanent of the 1960′s. At frist I hated my pink bathroom, it has grown on me. I have decorated my bathroom with a few pieces from my costume jewelry collection. It gives you something to look at while you are taking care of business and adds needed pops of color.

Pops of color anchor my living room design. I spend most of my free time in my living room so I wanted into to be comfortable and cozy. My couch is from IKEA it is the Karlstad Sofa in Dark and so if my coffee table. Truth be told my apartment is littered with IKEA furniture. What can I say it fits my budget and style. I puffy heart the Swedish and their gift of IKEA to America. The pillows on my couch and the throw are from Target. Target is my happy place and where I do my hard thinking while strolling down the isles. The gum ball machine is a vintage piece from my Father. I love mixing vintage with modern or reproduction pieces. During my travels around the globe I have amassed a large collection of nick nacks and use them as decoration through out my apartment. I love having my nick nacks on display, each one has a story and they are reminders of my journey. I also have a lot of Native American pieces, they remind me to be humble and of my heritage. I come from a long line of warriors who fought for a better day.

I rest my head next to the muppet each night. I wanted my bedroom to be simple yet quaint. Again I have pops of color to brighten my morning. Each day I wake up to Pairs. How can you not wake up smiling when the first thing you see is a photo of Paris. When it came to linens I had to keep my trusty muppet in mind. I didn’t want any thing fussy or with a tag that read “dry clean only.” If you have a dog then you know how dirty they can and will be. Cullen thinks its fun to roll on the bed when he is muddy and wet. My coverlet is from IKEA and the sheets are from Target. Both can be machine washed and they are pretty darn cozy. My dresser is lined with turtles and photos of family and friends. I have a few paintings on my walls as well. To me my room is well-organized (I love organized spaces) and cozy. I don’t know about you but instead of a monster under my bed I have a muppet. Cullen when he gets to warm or tired of my tossing and turning leaps off and curls up under the bed. The muppet is a funny one. One of his favorite words is “Nap.” He goes nuts when I ask him if he wants to take a nap. He jumps right in bed and snuggles up next to me licking my cheek as I fall a sleep.

Enough about sleeping. After all everyone knows the real magic happens in the kitchen. An well my kitchen is literally from the pages of the IKEA catalog. My kitchen is small, however I am not complaining and I make it work. Many tasty things have come out of my kitchen and many more have yet to be made. The muppet is always nestled at my feet as I cook. He loves it when we make bacon an waffles for breakfast. I always make a little extra for sharing.

I am a Minneapolis girl who is desperately awaiting the return of spring. The gray winter days have gone on far to long and it is time to tuck away the parka and snow boats. It’s a dream I know, but I have faith that spring thou late will return to this lovely city. I want to fall in love all over again with her many lakes, patios, and farmers markets. One must be tough to be a Minneapolisnite, well all you really have to do is learn the rules of “hide and go park,” having your car towed is no fun. It hasn’t happened to me yet, however I have stood in line and waited with friends. In the end it doesn’t matter where you live. What matters is that you a living large and treating each day as a gift.

Thoughts of our pending wedding raced through my head and mostly I was pretty darn excited to have someone to come home to at night. To have someone who understood how far I’ve come and where I was headed. Charlie knew me better than I knew myself and would tell the bartender “The lady will have a crown and coke, light on the ice with a twist of lime.” When a man knows your drink of choice, he’s a keeper. Most of my problems were solved over connect four and whiskey. Charlie trusted me with reviewing his memos and briefs. He would tell me “AJ this is going to change the world, please review it and check my spelling.” Charlie was a damn good legal writer however his spelling skills needed polishing. Together Charlie and I made the perfect team. He was a successful litigator and I was one hell of a paralegal. Together we created the life that dreams are made of.

Soon the weekend was upon me and I was rushing around getting ready for Charlie’s return. Shopping lists were completed, the Ivy Staff came over and cleaned. Cullen was set and I had started looking for someone to take over the lease on my uptown apartment. My IKEA filled apartment was to be packed up and stored. Each morning I awoke to the voicemail light blinking on my phone. Charlie always left me voice mails when he was out-of-town. On Valentine’s day he left me a long one. The words are forever etched into my memory. “Hey babes, its 3AM my time, 2AM your time, which means you are fast a sleep plotting your world domination. I just wanted to let you know I am all packed and ready to come home. In you I found my home. My world doesn’t make sense unless you are in it. You baby are the reason I breathe, you are the reason my life makes sense. I love you. Happy Valentine’s day love.”

In that moment I knew Charlie loved me more than anything in this world. He called me through out the day to tell me that he was being delayed and hat he was going to take the red-eye. Our last conversation was around 4PM, he was driving back to the city. We talked about his day, how the trial went and if he thought he had won. Charlie asked me how I was, about Cullen, and my day at work. I told him that I was ready for him to come home. Home, never sounded so good he said. I could tell that he was smiling. We said I love you and hung up. I went about my evening and drifted off to sleep around 10:30pm. In my heart I knew Charlie would be boarding the plane and coming home. Home. That Minneapolis would truly be our home. Little did I know, that Charlie would not be coming home.

At 6:05PM east coast time Charlie became the fifth car in a multi vehicle crash. He was air lifted to a nearby hospital and under went emergency surgery to relieve the pressure on his brain and spine. He was unconscious. His mother got the call from the state patrol around 8PM and she rushed to the hospital to be by his side. The Doctors said it wasn’t good and she knew she had to call me. Minah couldn’t bring herself to do it, Charlie’s brother called me and broke the news. I fell to the floor and prayed that he would be all right. The earliest flight they could get me on was the late night red-eye.

On February 15th I went to work and acted like nothing had happened. I was dying inside, yet I knew in my heart that nothing I did would change the fact that Charlie was dying. Bad weather would delay my flight till the morning. At 2:55AM on February 16th my phone rang, in my heart I knew what it was. Minah could only whisper “I am sorry.” In that moment I knew he was gone. Charlie died while in surgery to relieve the pressure on his brain. At 3:15AM his heart gave out.

If only I had known that February 7th was the last day I would see Charlie alive. Maybe I would have chatted a bit longer, gave him an extra hug, and played that morning round of connect four. Then again I wouldn’t have changed a thing. Because I know he died knowing that I loved him with all of my heart. I can die knowing that Charlie died loving me. Love never dies, it is the legacy we leave behind. I may not be able to see Charlie or hear his voice, yet I know he is always with me. He is the voice that whispers “you can do it” on cloudy days, Charlie is pushing me along as he knows a woman like me deserves to be in love and happy. One day Charlie will see to it that I bring a child into this world and he will smile down on a little girl named Charlotte Rae, his namesake.

It has almost been a year since Charlie died and I finally have the strength to let go. To let go of what could have been and to say hello to my present. Losing someone isn’t as hard as the letting go. Letting go was the hardest part of my journey. To me letting go felt like I was turning my back on Charlie and the life we had. It meant saying goodbye one last time and waking up from the land of what if. I had to let go of the past so I could let someone new walk into my life and fall in love all over again. Charlie would want me to move on and to be happy again. Charlie would want me to live life to the fullest and to love with all of my heart. An because of that I am able to finally let go. To let go of a beautiful broken dream.

That is what makes life beautiful, beautiful because we do not know what tomorrow will bring. Each day is uncertain, it is up to each one of us to live it like its our last. To love with our entire heart and to do whatever we can to make this world a better place.

“Heaven knows that I ain’t perfect I’ve raised a little cain and I plan to raise a whole lot more.”

October 22, 2009 I was taught a tough lesson. Fate taught me that you can either face a problem head on or you can just deal with it. The difference between surviving and dealing is strength. It takes strength to fight back. I could have taken the woe is me route, but that’s not my style. I took the fight tooth and nail route. Survival was my only goal and I dealt with my PE and stroke head on with all cylinders burning. Failing meant life or death. I chose to live that day. I chose to not only survive but to thrive. If I had chosen to deal instead of survive my story might be different.

I like you, have my good and bad days. On bad days I ask myself “Are you having a stroke? No? Then this is not the worst day of your life.” Those words give me perspective, if I am not lying in ICU fighting for my life, than hell I am doing all right. My now former coworker once asked me “Do you ever have a bad day? You are always so positive and cheery?” Truth: I rarely have a bad day. Each day I wake up and grudgingly turn my alarm off is a blessing. Each day that I am standing above ground is a gift. I am living on borrowed time and I am not going to waste it on petty small things. This is my third chance at life and I’ll be damned if I spend it crabby. The fore mentioned is the difference between dealing and surviving. People who deal don’t realize how precious time is and they spend their days wasting away. Survivors thrive because they live each day like its their last and live until their heart bursts wide open. An that is why I never had a bad day. I can’t change the past and my future is best left up to fate.

I have to believe that my stroke and PE are part of some grand plan. I am a firm believer that the good Lord never gives us more than we can handle. I’ll never know why it happened or what my life would be like without it. There are days I wish for my pre PE and stroke life back. Then I think about all of the things I have done, places I’ve traveled, and all of the people I have met. Without the PE my story would be different. My PE and Stroke gave me the strength I needed to mourn the death of my son and it was the final whisper that got me to walk out of my loveless marriage. It allowed me to realize that I had the strength to handle anything and as long as I believed in myself I could never go wrong.

PE and Stroke will not define me. They are only a part of my story and they will not control my life. As a thriving survivor I can rewrite the story and bring a new definition of PE & Stroke survivor to the world. I can bust down stereotypes and help people realize that they affect more than just the elderly. I can stand up and fight for all of those who lost their lives so I could live mine.

Through out February there will be Heart events around the twin cities. When you see a young woman sitting at the American Heart Association table or someone with Survivor on their name tag ask her “What’s your story.” Do this and you will be pleasantly surprised by her fighting spirit and her desire to prevent other women from experiencing her fate. That is the difference between a dealer and a survivor. A dealer curls up and hides in hopes that tomorrow will be normal. A survivor stands up because she knows “No woman deserves to fight alone.”

For the past ten years I donned red on National Wear Red Day. I wore it in honor of my cousin Emma and for my Father. I wore red as a reminder that heart disease knows no age nor gender. Red was my color and I wore it proudly. To me I was making a difference by sharing my Father’s and Emma’s heart stories. To me I was giving back for the second chance that my Father was granted.

My Father’s name is Gregory James. He is the son of an Irish woman and a Ojibway Indian. He is one of 13 children who grew up on a farm outside of Lake City Minnesota. His childhood was far from perfect, his Father was always to drunk to care and well his Mama, they only love he knew was the back of her hand. If you ask him about his childhood he will tell you “I survived by staying one step ahead of my Ma.” He never sugar-coated his life for my sister and I. You see my father was diagnosed with ADHD in the late 50′s. My Daddy was considered a throw away and no one ever thought he’d amount too much.

With only a 10th grade education he set out to conquer the world. He got a job in Minneapolis, lived in the YMCA, and learned that life was tough. Somewhere between Minneapolis and meeting my Mama he earned the nick name “Animal.” I’ve heard stories, but my Father has yet to deny or confirm the tales. Since he was barely making it in the City he returned to the tiny river town. As fate would have it he would fancy a female dump truck driver named Sharon. My grandfather played match maker and before long they were married.

My father is a laborer. He knows nothing but factories and nursery fields.Yet he was gentil and kind. Always lending an ear, a helping hand and playing with my sister and I. My Father was sort of like a stay at home Dad. Often my Mama would work double shifts which left my Dad with two tired and hungry daughters. Our dinners consisted of steak, baked potatoes, and watered down Koolaide. He would also get us up and ready for school in the morning.

Fast forward about 18 years. My father was the proudest man in town. One daughter had just finished college and the other was just starting. This is when the bottom fell out. I knew the day my parents dropped me off at college that it would most likely be the last day I saw him alive. He had fallen on ill-health and with no insurance he did not go to a doctor. One can tell when the soul is slipping away. On February 8th my father was admitted to the hospital, in March 2002 he was taken to St. Mary’s hospital in Rochester by ambulance. He arrived barely clinging to life. This, this killed me because I was away at college. My Father aways told us “When all else fails pray.” I just fell to my knees and prayed. I asked God to take me instead to give my father one more chance at life. The odds were not in our favor. However each day he got better and better. We soon learned that he had suffered Ventricular fibrillation which lead to cardiogenic shock.

My Father had survived. At 50 he became a survivor and we were blessed with his life. The past eleven years have not been easy. As a family we have had our ups and downs. My Father is not the same man I grew up with. His memory has faded, he is no longer able to work, and a good day is when he does not repeat himself 300 times. Those days are hard to come by,yet we don’t complain. Each day we have him around is a blessing. His first granddaughter turned one on the 27th and he was so proud. Seeing them together makes my heart happy. Yet, I am reminded that there are thousands of Granddaughters who never got to meet their Grandpas. An that breaks my heart.

What breaks my heart even more is knowing that there are children who never got the chance to meet their Aunt. Heat Disease, Strokes, and Heart Attacks are robbing children of their Aunties. To me my Stroke is nothing compared to my Father’s courageous battle against Heart disease. Because of my Father my life was saved. If I had never volunteered with the heart association I would not have been aware of the symptoms of a stroke. Through my dedication to my Father my life was saved. We are living proof that research can and does save lives.

My Sister, My Mama, and I urge you to wear Red this Friday in honor of someone you love. Sophia would also like you to wear Red because she loves her Grandpa and Auntie very much. If that is not reason enough please wear red in honor of My Father’s niece Emma. Wear red in her memory and for the tomorrows she never got to see.

I walked into the Marriott feeling a little out of sorts and was quickly cheered up by the hundreds of women I met. Familiar faces received hugs and high fives, hell I gave out hugs to people I just met. (I am a huger) Nothing, not even work was going to ruin the event for me. The room was filled with contagious energy and it empowered me. Soon I was all smiles, greeting women, and handing out information at the AHA table. I was able to connect with survivors over stress balls and share my story with those who support us. It was funny when the Merck reps walked by and they over heard me talking about my stroke. A gentlemen asked me “What caused your stroke?” With a sly smile I replied “Well, Sir your product did.” He gave me the craziest look and I repeated my self “Sir the ____ ring did. It’s funny how Merck supports women and then turns around and manufactures a product that almost kills them.” He took his stress ball and slowly backed away from me.

I even got to meet one of my Father’s nurses from the Mayo clinic. I thanked her for helping my Daddy get better, because of women like Katherine he survived and he will be celebrating his 11th heart anniversary. It brought tears to her eyes. She said to me “I always remember my patients who come in, in the roughest shape and somehow they walk out a few weeks later on their own.” I told her that he is alive, is doing well, and that he is one extremely proud Grandfather. The Mayo clinic will always have a special place in my heart, for they gave me my father back.

I am going Red because no woman should fight alone. Survivorship can be a long and lonely road. When you are young, you never think “I am going to have heart disease, a stroke or even a heart attack. You live your life, work your job, and love your family with all your heart. Until the day comes where something isn’t right and your gut is yelling for you to see a doctor. In that moment whether it be in an operating room, ER, or clinic your world comes crashing down. You stop breathe deep, cry a little, put your big girl pants on, and you walk right into survivorhood with a smile. We are women and we breathe life into every step we take. None of us deserve to fight alone. Together we can take on the world and one day our world will be free of heart disease.

Each one of us has a story to share. Heart disease knows no bounds and it can touch anyone of us at any time. My family got involved because of Emma, I jumped my little heart out, learned CPR, and because of my Father my dedication to the cause was strengthened. I never thought in a million years that I would be the very survivor I was advocating for. So the next time you look into the eyes of a woman realize that her heart has bruises and that she was touched by heart disease. I had an easy road, I am proof that early intervention works. Every second counts when you are having a stroke. Every second becomes the difference between living and dying. I was lucky I had mine in the perfect place, I had my stroke right in the ER. I thank my lucky stars that I am alive and I fight like hell for those who lost their lives. Those women paid the ultimate price and because of them I live my life with purpose.

On February 1st I am going RED for: Emma Beaulieu, my niece Sophia, my sister JammieLeigh, my Mama, my Daddy, my dear friend and mentor Gerry Nolting, and mostly for all of the women whose lives were cut short by heart disease. Together we can make a difference, together we can save lives, and change the world. Won’t you join us?